Arrogant Americans. The bearded man's eyes sparked with indignation, but he answered quietly in lightly accented English, "We are."

"What about the others?"

"They await only the final instructions to move into place."

The redhead passed a single sheet of paper across the table. "These are the flight details."

The targets weren't listed, but he knew them. New York City, Washington, DC, Chicago, Los Angeles. And a very special one of which his bearded "friend" was unaware.

After a moment of studying the printout, the first man lifted surprised eyes. "We understood it was to be sooner."

"The personnel for one of the critical flights were changed. If Hydra command wants all six targets, this is the date." The second man's tone was condescending. They were on his turf, even if it was their show. They'd come to his organization with an offer to combine resources for a preemptive strike that would send a message once and for all that in America, the true Americans were coming to power. Ultimately, their groups might have different agendas, but a blow to their common enemy would strengthen them all. Allies today, enemies tomorrow. That was the way of war.

"When my leader gives the word, we will not hesitate." The bearded man carefully folded the sheet of paper listing the departure times and flight numbers of the airplanes that would carry him and his brothers to glory.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T he Suburban slowed as it passed the security gate and proceeded to the first family's private entrance. Blair leaned across the seat and touched Cam's arm. "Will you be at your apartment?"

"Tonight?" Cam inquired. She'd dismissed the auxiliary agents who had accompanied them to Paris at Dulles, and her core team had the night off. The White House security patrol would be responsible for Blair's security while she was at the White House, as they were for the president when he was in residence. It wasn't an arrangement Cam was particularly fond of—she considered the White House security patrol to be essentially gatekeepers, not security agents. But politically, she had nothing to say about it. "I'll be there tonight. Will you be staying here?"

Blair nodded. "I don't know how long this meeting with Lucinda will take, but I'm hoping to catch my father later. I haven't seen him since before we left for Paris."

The vehicle had stopped, but since she and Cam had made no move to get out, Phil Rogers remained behind the wheel on the other side of the privacy panel. Nevertheless, Blair lowered her voice. "I'll miss you. I've gotten used to having you in my bed at night."

"I know." They had a certain amount of freedom when traveling, and even home in New York, because Blair's security team existed for one purpose—to protect her. The agents were trained to look the other way where the private lives of their protectees were concerned. Even when that included sleeping with one of them. Still, she and Blair valued their privacy and tried to shield their personal relationship from too much scrutiny, which meant there were times when they could not reasonably find a way to be together. This was one of those times.

Cam sighed. "It's getting so I can't sleep well without you."

Blair smiled. Although Cam's discomfort was the last thing she wished for, she was enormously pleased to know that she was not alone in hating their forced separations. "I'll call you as soon as I can after the meeting with Lucinda."

Cam raised an eyebrow slightly as she shook her head. "I'm coming with you for that."

"What?" Blair sat up straighter.

"If Lucinda Washburn wants to talk to you about your relationship with me, then I want to be there."

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Blair said immediately. "The last thing we want to do is keep underscoring the fact that you're both my security chief and my lover. I don't want to put you in the spotlight."

"You can't put me in the closet, Blair," Cam said succinctly. "Lucinda knows who you're sleeping with. My superiors know I'm sleeping with you. The president of the United States knows that we're lovers. There's no closet big enough to fit all that."

"I'm not trying to put you in the closet, Cameron." Blair was jet-lagged and bone-weary from the constant stress of deciding how much to reveal about her personal life, and to whom. Her words had come out more sharply than she had intended.

"Then what are you trying to do?"

"Protect you." Blair reached for the door handle. "That is something you understand, isn't it? I'm certainly supposed to understand it when you've decided to stand between me and danger. I'm even supposed to be happy about it!"

Before Blair could step from the vehicle, taking with her their last chance for privacy, Cam reached out and caught her arm. "Blair, wait."

Because she already missed her, and because she knew her heart would ache for the rest of the night if they parted this way, Blair stopped. With a sigh, she settled back into the seat. "God, sometimes you make me so crazy."

"Then we're even." Cam rubbed the bridge of her nose and then ran her hand through her hair. In a calmer voice, she said, "If Lucinda Washburn or anyone else is going to dress you down for your relationship with me, I want to be there. We need to deal with that together. If we're a couple."

If we 're a couple. A couple. Blair regarded Cam intently, searching her eyes for the answer to the question she was afraid to ask. This time it wasn't enough to see the determination and the caring in Cam's eyes. This was something so essential to her soul that she needed to hear the words. "Is that really what we are? What you want?"

Nothing ever defused Cam's temper faster than the slightest hint of insecurity in Blair's voice. The moment they'd met, she'd fallen in love with Blair's strength and her indomitable will. To know that anything, but most especially something about their relationship, could shake that certainty was like a fist in the gut. She extended her hand and took Blair's. "I love you. You're my life."

For an instant, Blair closed her eyes. When she opened them, even the dim light inside the vehicle could not hide the shimmer of tears. "I can't say no when you say something like that. No one has ever been able to reach inside me the way you do."

Cam lifted Blair's hand to her lips and kissed it gently before rubbing the backs of Blair's fingers against her cheek. "That's because I'm the only one who belongs there."

"It's true, and it still scares me to death." Blair spoke softly, almost to herself. Then she straightened and fixed Cam with a steady gaze. "You'll have to be careful with Lucinda. She's used to chewing out the Joint Chiefs and assorted cabinet members before breakfast."

"I shouldn't think she'd be any worse than the president's daughter before coffee."

Blair laughed out loud. "You do like to live dangerously, don't you, Commander?"

"Let's say I enjoy living life with you." Cam merely grinned as she pushed open the door and stepped out before extending her hand to Blair. "Shall we?"

With you, anything. Blair slid from the Suburban and linked her fingers with Cam's as she gazed up at the White House. Another fragment of her life slipped into place as she walked up the stairs to the entrance with her lover.

"Just one minute while she finishes this call," Lucinda's harried assistant said to Blair as he fielded three other calls at once. "She wants to be interrupted for you."

Three minutes later, he waved Blair and Cam into the chief of staff's office. Lucinda was behind her desk, her reading glasses hanging on a colorful braided cord around her neck. She looked up at the sound of their entrance and then regarded Cam with an intense stare before turning her attention to Blair. "You might prefer that this meeting be private."

"No, I don't prefer that." Blair reached out and took Cam's hand once again. "You know my lover, Cameron Roberts. Cam, Lucinda Washburn."

Cam quickly squeezed Blair's fingers before stepping forward to extend her hand across the desk. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

Lucinda, a formidable woman in her mid-fifties wearing an impeccably tailored suit and just the right amount of expensive but understated jewelry, stood and returned Cam's handshake. Then she walked around the side of the desk, gesturing to the small seating area. She took the chair opposite the sofa, allowing Blair and Cam to sit together. Then she once again focused on Cam.

"Are you interested in marrying the president's daughter, Agent Roberts?"

"Lucinda, what the hell?" Blair sat forward indignantly, her eyes blazing.

The chief of staff gave a nonchalant shrug. "Just one of many questions I have."

"Our private life is none of your business." Blair had known Lucinda Washburn since she was a child, and she'd often been intimidated by Lucinda's power and status, not only within her father's political machine but also within the small social circle of family friends. She rarely had occasion to argue or take issue with Lucinda, even though she sometimes resented the woman's central position in her father's life. A position that she never seemed to occupy.

"First of all," Lucinda said mildly, "you don't have a private life. Not for at least the next three—God willing, the next seven — years. Secondly, even if you did, it is my business. Everything that impacts on your father's position is my business."

"I fail to see—"

Cam's deep voice interjected quietly, "A year ago I never could have imagined loving anyone the way I do Blair. I haven't thought about marriage, but I believe in it as an institution. And I love the president's daughter, so the answer to your question is yes."