"You can't intend for Grant to take him on herself?" Blair said when Cam finished outlining the basics of the plan.


Cam shook her head. "No. Once we establish rapport and convince him that he really is speaking to you, we hope he'll reveal something to help us trace him. Some reference to location, some historical fact -- something to give us a fix on his physical location."


"And if that doesn't work?" Blair asked quietly.


"Then we'll set up a meet under the pretext that you don't want anyone else endangered, and lay a trap for him that way."


"He might just lay a trap for -- me," Blair stated.And he lays his with bombs.


"He might," Cam allowed. "But we'll have dozens of agents securing the area, and if he's anywhere near the meet site, which Ryan assures us he will be, we'll have him."


"What about Grant?"


Cam's stomach tightened but her voice was sure. Uncertainty could not be entertained once an operation was underway. "She'll be wired and armored and hopefully she won't get close enough to be in any real danger. We just need her to leave here as you, in case he's watching the building, and to be visible approaching the meet location."


Blair was silent for a moment, then she asked, "Who's going with her as back up?"


"Savard," Cam said. She met Blair's eyes and added softly, "and me."


Blair stood abruptly and walked to the far side of the loft, her back to the room, looking out the tall windows toward the park. Cam sat for a moment, her good sense warring with an uncomfortable need to make Blair understand. She stared across the room at Blair's rigid back, telling herself that she should simply go back to work and do what needed to be done. But if she did, she knew that she would only be bringing part of herself to the job. The other part would be wondering about Blair, and that fact aggravated her almost as much as the cold silence in the room.


"Blair," Cam said quietly, crossing to stand behind her. She did not touch her, because the anger was nearly a palpable barrier between them.


Blair held up a hand, not turning, her voice harsh and clipped. "Don't, Cam. Donot tell me it's safe or any other such fairy tale about the brilliant planning of our security agencies. I know the track records."


Cam did touch her then, because she had to. She was finding that distance between them was harder and harder to bear. She didn't want to think about what that might mean, particularly not now. She rested her hands very lightly on Blair's waist, stepping near but not trying to hold her. "Everyone agrees that the risk is low."


Blair made a faint choking sound that might have been a laugh, or a sob. She turned abruptly to face her, pushing Cam's hands away. "Just when did you start thinking that I was stupid, Cam? Before or after we fucked?"


"Goddamn it, Blair," Cam growled, trying hard to hold onto her temper, "I know damn well you aren't stupid. The risksare low."


"I suppose you think that it wouldn't occur to me that Jeremy Finch is dead and you were almost killed once already? Or do you think I've simply lost my mind?"


"If anyone has lost their mind, it's me," Cam snapped, her dark eyes flashing with fury. "And itwasn't when we fucked. It happened the first time I walked into this room and you had the arrogance to come on to me like I was some rookie you could lead around by my proverbial dick."


"Well, that didn't work very well, did it?" Blair seethed, looking pointedly at Cam's crotch and then back to her face. "And it has nothing to do with the particulars of your anatomy."


"Actually, it must have worked," Cam said with irritation, running a hand through her hair, tousling the dark locks into the disheveled look that Blair found so sexy, "because I haven't been able to make a single decision since that morning without worrying about you."


Blair stared at her, remembering their first meeting and her surprise at discovering that her new security chief not only wasn't intimidated by her but actually seemed intent on working with her. "I never asked you to worry about me," she remarked, the sharp edges of her rage softening as she looked at her.


"I know that," Cam said, her voice intense, "but I do." She waited a beat, and then said even more quietly, "I didn't want you to care."


"I know that," Blair whispered, and added even more softly, "but I do."


They both moved at once, closing the distance, slipping into one another's arms.


"I'll be careful"


"Be careful"


Cam kissed Blair's temple, murmuring, "I'll wear a vest, and I'll have Savard. She's good. We'll have plenty of backup nearby, too."


Blair pressed her lips to Cam's neck, feeling her blood pulse through the arteries just under the skin. So fragile. She took a deep breath, forcing the fear away, burying it deep inside.


"She'd better be as good as she looks," Blair threatened, "or I'll be forced to hurt her."




Chapter Thirty-Three

Cam leaned over an array of printouts on the table in the glass-walled conference room, talking to Patrick Doyle and working hard to ignore her intense dislike for the man.


Just get the job done and make sure Grant is well protected in the process. That's all that matters, she reminded herself.


When Doyle failed to respond to one of her questions, she glanced up from the transcript of the last communication with Loverboy and caught the FBI agent staring past her out into the main area of the command center. The look on his face was a startling mixture of displeasure and something that looked very much like lust. She turned and followed his gaze and when she saw that he was looking at Blair, her simmering anger flared hotly into fury. The way he stared at her was almost an invasion.


"Do you have a problem of some kind, Doyle?" she demanded.


"You don't seem to have much control over her, Roberts," Doyle said derisively. "She shouldn't be down here."


"It's not my job to 'control' her," Cam said as evenly as she could. "And there is absolutely no reason that she shouldn't go anywhere she likes."


He turned and studied her as if she were some strange life form. "Civilians complicate matters, Roberts. Especially civilians with opinions - and friends in high places."


"I'm not concerned about anything that Ms. Powell might have to say to anyone about anything," Cam remarked. She folded up her notebook and turned to leave.


"You might change your mind before this is all over," he called after her.


She closed the door without looking back. She threaded her way through the desks and the mountains of monitoring equipment that seemed to grow in number and complexity every day. Their working space had been adequate for routine day to day matters, but now that Doyle's team had practically moved on site, and Lindsey Ryan was staying to monitor the Internet communications with their UNSUB, and the ATF bomb squad was coming and going with information about the latest analysis on the bomb fragments from the park, the room was crowded with people and makeshift workstations.


Nevertheless, the communications station at the far end of the room remained somewhat insulated from the rest of the activity. Everyone knew that Felicia Davis should not be distracted. Mac was with her most of the time, primarily to retrieve any data that she might need to respond to Loverboy. At the moment, Blair was leaning down over Felicia Davis, speaking to her with a serious expression on her face.


It was the second full day of the operation, and there had only been sparse e-mail exchange between Felicia Davis, posing as Blair, and Loverboy. A temporal analysis of his previous communications revealed that he sent a message nearly every day. Frequently it was only a few words or a single line. Lindsey Ryan hypothesized that he not only needed to satisfy his own compulsion to communicate with Blair, but he wanted to prove that hecould reach her. His skills extended beyond bomb making and marksmanship, and, despite all attempts to thwart him with shields and aliases and rerouting her mail servers, it never took him long to track her down.


Blair tolerated his messages because she refused to give up her own access to the Internet, and in an oddly understandable way, she had not want to be cut off from him either. She would not live in a cocoon as if nothing were happening. She wanted to 'hear' his voice if he was threatening her.


As Cam drew near, she heard Blair say, "I'm the best one to do this."


Immediately, Cam's stomach began churning uneasily, because she had a feeling she knew what Blair was talking about. She had defended Blair's presence in the command center to Doyle, and in fact she believed precisely what she had said. Nevertheless, she had hoped that Blair would stay away, if only because the tension and uncertainty was wearing for all of them, and she wished to spare her that. But in her heart, she had expected something like this.


Blair straightened and nodded to Cam, her face revealing none of the quick pleasure she took in seeing her. "Good morning, Commander."


"Ms. Powell," Cam said warmly, stopping behind the chairs occupied by Mac and Felicia Davis. "Is there some way I can be of service?"