“I hear the Christmas buffet for staff is a big event.” Wes thought ahead to the president’s schedule—no trips planned until after New Year’s. No State events during the holidays either. The largest gathering of staff and press would be in two days.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Jennifer smiled.

“Well, I’m sorry you’ll be working part of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day too.”

“You’re in the same situation, right?”

“I’m new in town, remember? I didn’t have any plans, so working isn’t that much of a hardship.” Wes wasn’t really sure how convincing she’d be suggesting a personal interest. She didn’t have a hell of a lot of practice—make that no practice—getting up close and personal with colleagues or anyone else. Except with Evyn—being close to Evyn hadn’t taken any effort at all. Last night isn’t over.

“Well,” Jennifer said quickly, “like I said, my plans fell through too. Maybe that’s a sign.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Apparently, her skills weren’t as bad as she thought. Jennifer’s eyes sparked, and color rose above the vee of her pale-blue cashmere sweater to her throat. “How about we catch a late dinner when our shift is over tonight. Unwind before the last-minute Christmas Eve duty.”

“If you don’t have any plans—”

“I don’t, but even if I did,” Jennifer said, her smile slow and seductive, “I’d change them. I’ve been hoping we’d have a chance to spend some time together.”

“Then I’d like that. Tonight, then?”

“Yes, perfect.”

“Shall I meet you somewhere?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place for a drink after work, and we can leave from there.”

“All right. That sounds perfect.”

Jennifer smiled that suggestive smile again. “It does, doesn’t it? See you later.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Jennifer left and Wes sagged back in her chair. When she was sure Jennifer wasn’t returning, she called Cameron Roberts and reported the conversation.

“Report to the briefing room before your shift ends,” Cam said. “We’ll wire you up.”

“There’s something else,” Wes said.

“Go ahead.”

Wes slid Len O’Shaughnessy’s toxicology report out from under the file folder. Nothing had jumped out at her until she’d looked at the tissue analysis. “Colonel O’Shaughnessy had unusually high levels of potassium in his cardiac muscle. Enough to cause cardiac arrest.”

“Enough for us to investigate his death as a homicide?”

“Postmortem levels might vary depending on when they were drawn—and he was given a lot of drugs during the resuscitation. This isn’t hard evidence, I’m afraid.”

“Your opinion, then,” Cam said.

“If someone had wanted him out of the way,” Wes said, “I’d say they succeeded.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Blair set her book aside when the door opened and Cam walked into the apartment. Cam looked tired, and she never looked tired. She always seemed to have endless energy and incredible stamina. The only signs of fatigue were a crease between her dark brows and a tightness around the corners of her mouth. Blair saw the stress, even though to anyone else Cam would appear as calm and centered as always. “Did you catch any sleep?”

“I grabbed a couple of hours in the ready room. I’m okay.” Cam leaned over the sofa and kissed her. “Morning.”

“What’s going on?” Blair grasped Cam’s hand and pulled her down beside her. Draping her legs over the arm of the sofa, she shifted until her head rested in Cam’s lap. Blair tugged Cam’s shirt from her trousers and kissed her bare abdomen. “Have you eaten?”

“Coffee and half a chocolate doughnut.”

“That’s not food.” Blair settled back, and Cam stroked her arm beneath the edge of the threadbare USSS T-shirt of Cam’s she wore to bed. The light touch was gentle and reassuring and exciting all at the same time. She never realized how much she missed Cam until she walked back in the door. The scent of her, just looking up and seeing her nearby, filled her with comfort and a peace she’d never known she wanted. “You’re not supposed to deal with everything alone any longer.”

Cam sifted Blair’s hair through her fingers, soothed by the silky softness. “I’m not. I promise.”

“But?”

“I can’t help wanting to protect you.”

“I know that. I love you for that. But it’s a two-way street, right?”

“Yes, it is.” Cam sighed. “I think we may be honing in on our leak.”

“Who is it?” Blair kept a tight rein on the anger blazing in the very core of her. Disbelief and outrage stoked the flames. She wanted to strike back—and not being able to focus her rage only fueled her fury.

Cam gave her a capsule summary of what she’d reported to Lucinda. “If I’m right, there may be an attempted assault soon.”

Fear licked around the edges of Blair’s consciousness, but she pushed it away. “How? When?”

“I don’t know. Guesses are all I have.”

“Your guesses have always been good.” Blair sat up and faced Cam, her knee sliding over Cam’s thigh. She kissed her. “I know you’re doing everything that can be done. It’s not all on you.”

Cam nodded. “I know. I’m just...things are starting to move and I’m preoccupied. Sorry.”

“You’re also not giving me much in the way of details.”

Cam smiled softly. “Noticed that, did you?”

“Really, Cam.” Blair shook her head. “Who told you to keep me out of the loop? Lucinda?”

A spark of humor lit Cam’s dark eyes. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Uh-huh. Okay. And exactly why aren’t you following Lucinda’s orders?”

The humor disappeared but the darkness remained in Cam’s gaze. “Because I want you to be safe, and you can’t be safe if you don’t know what’s going on. I think Lucinda’s wrong in thinking you’ll be safer if you’re away from the action. We don’t know what’s coming, or where it’s coming from, and the only way to be prepared is to hone our defenses while we work out an offensive plan.”

“Meaning?”

“If your father’s the target, and I believe he is, you should limit your time with him.”

“That’s not going to happen. If my father’s the target, then I want to be with him. That means more agents, more surveillance, more protection for him.”

“That’s exactly what Lucinda wanted to avoid—both of you in the line of fire.” Cam stroked Blair’s jaw. “She loves you, you know.”

“I know. So why are you telling me anything at all?”

Cam circled the back of Blair’s neck, feathering her fingertips through her hair. “I’m telling you because I don’t think anywhere is safer than any other place, right now. And since you won’t abandon your father, you need to know what the potential threats are, to best protect yourself.”

“And you know I’d kick your ass if you kept this from me.”

Cam grinned again. “That too.”

“So tell me what you think I need to know.”

“I will.” Cam kissed her, a slow exploration that melted the tension in Blair’s body and settled the disquiet in her mind. “As soon as I say a proper good morning.”

Blair slid her hand under Cam’s shirt and stroked upward to her breasts. “Not too tired?”

“Not tired at all.”

*

Just before 1800 hours, Wes finished writing a prescription for one of the groundskeepers who had severed the tip of his little finger while attempting to clear ice from his snow blower. He hadn’t been able to find the missing piece of tissue, so Wes had shortened the bone fragment beneath his nail and closed it with a local skin flap. A week of antibiotics and a protective splint ought to be all he needed. His finger would be a little bit shorter, but he should have no functional deficit. He was lucky. She walked down to the treatment area where the PA on duty with her was splinting the digit. “Here you go. Stop by in two days for a bandage change. We’ll get the stitches out in a week or so. How does it feel?”

The groundskeeper smiled. “Doesn’t bother me at all. Can I go to work tomorrow?”

“Is there work you can do one-handed, because I don’t want you taking that splint off.”

“I’ll manage.”

“The splint stays on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right, then you can go back to work.” She clipped the prescription to his chart and went back to her office to finish her notes and shut down her computer. Five minutes later she headed for the briefing room she’d been in that morning. When she walked in, Evyn was there, sorting through an array of equipment on the table.

“Hi,” Wes said, eyeing the small receiver and attached wires. “What’s happening?”

“The director asked me to suit you up.” Evyn looked up. “You need to be wired.”

Wes loved the hazy purple of Evyn’s eyes, a sure sign her emotions were running hot. She hoped she was the cause—even if the timing was bad. Even if that turmoil in Evyn’s gaze was annoyance rather than attraction. Anything was better than the indifference and distance Evyn was so adept at hiding behind. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just take off your shirt and loosen your belt,” Evyn said neutrally, her attention back on the equipment.

Wes removed her blazer, folded it over the back of a chair, and unbuttoned her shirt. She tugged it from her pants and laid it with her jacket. She opened her fly and pulled up the bottom of the silk tank she wore beneath her shirt.

Evyn held up a slim black box about the size of a deck of cards, only thinner. “This audio transmitter is small enough we should be able to secure it inside the waistband of your trousers in the middle of your back. Unless you get...cozy, it won’t show.”

“I’m not planning to get cozy.”

Evyn grew still, her expression flat and closed. “Really? How do you plan on extracting personal information if you don’t?”

“People tend to relax in a social situation, even when it’s not intimate. They talk about their schedules, what they plan to do the next day, where they plan to go. Any of those things might help us pinpoint a potential exchange point.”