“Being back here—it’s hard not to think about what happened.”

Blair caressed Cam’s face. “I suppose it would be foolish of me to think you’re ever going to forgive yourself.”

“It’s not about forgiveness,” Cam said. “I need to understand what went wrong, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“I get that part,” Blair said. “But I also know you’re blaming yourself.”

Cam laughed sharply. “Since I was in charge, that seems appropriate.”

“See? You’re starting to piss me off.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Cam ran her hands through Blair’s hair and cradled her face in her palms. She traced her thumbs over the arch of Blair’s cheekbones. “I love you. It doesn’t matter to me who your father is or what claim the world has on you. You’re the woman I love, and that means I need to keep you safe.”

“Oh, Cam.” Blair kissed her softly, then shook her head. “I love you for exactly the things about you that drive me crazy.”

Cam grinned. “I think that works in my favor.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Is it time for that shower?”

Blair bit Cam gently on the chin. “You think if you cloud my brain with sex I’ll forget that you’re beating yourself up over something that wasn’t your fault?”

“I know you won’t let me get away with feeling guilty for long.” Cam wrapped her arms around Blair and turned them over in bed until she was lying on top of her. “I know you love me and you want to protect me.”

“That seems silly, doesn’t it,” Blair said. “Me protecting you.”

“No, not at all.” Cam rested her forehead against Blair’s. “It makes me feel safe. The only place in the world I feel safe is with you.”

“Don’t make me cry, Cam.” Blair’s voice was hoarse and her hand trembled as she ran her fingers through Cam’s thick dark hair. “You’ve been hurt too—almost killed more than once. I can’t stop seeing every single bruise and scar, even when I close my eyes.”

“Blair, baby,” Cam said soothingly.

“No. Don’t tell me about facts and figures and how it’s a one in a million thing you’ll ever be hurt again.” Blair’s smile softened the harsh edge to her words. “I understand the risks. It’s a new world now, and I know there’s no looking back. I understand that we all have to do what we can to make it a safe one.”

Cam was quiet a long moment. “I was thinking one of the first things we need to do is get married.”

Blair laughed, some of the heaviness in her heart lifting. “Well, I’m glad that’s on your agenda, because we have a date to do just that in just about ten days.”

Diane Bleeker bolted upright in the center of the king-sized bed in her Upper East Side condo overlooking Central Park. The space beside her was empty, and with a gasp, she threw back the covers and swung her legs to the floor. She was nude except for a pale peach camisole, and she shivered although the apartment was warm. She grasped a navy silk robe from the bottom of the bed and pulled it on as she rushed down the darkened hall. She didn’t bother turning on lights. The early gray light filtering through the double glass doors from the living room balcony was enough for what she needed to see. Valerie.

Heart sinking, she surveyed the empty living room before yanking open the closet next to the front door. Valerie’s coat was there, but the last time Valerie had vanished in the middle of the night, she had taken nothing with her.

“Diane, I’m here.”

“Oh!” Diane clutched her robe closed and spun around. Valerie stepped inside from the balcony and closed the doors behind her. She wore an oversized cotton shirt closed with a few buttons between her breasts. Her legs were bare. “God, darling, you must be freezing.”

“I’m fine,” Valerie said.

When she gripped Diane’s shoulders carefully and kissed her, her hands were cold but her lips were invitingly warm. “I can’t seem to stop frightening you. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t frighten me.” Diane rubbed Valerie’s forearms, wishing that she could warm the cold place inside her. She’d never been more aware that love was not always enough, and she alternated between feeling angry and helpless. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Just restless.” Valerie forced a smile, which she expected Diane could see right through. In the four weeks since she had almost been killed by the same fanatical “patriot” who had tried to assassinate Blair, she’d been haunted not by the near-death experience, but by the fifteen years of her life she had blindly devoted to an organization she could no longer trust. Recruited into the Company right out of high school, she had assumed an identity that had been painstakingly created for her, and over the years she had been many people. So many people that she wasn’t certain there was anything of her left at all. When she awakened in the night from her never quite sleeping state to find Diane slumbering innocently beside her, she was tormented with the absolute certainty that she did not deserve this woman’s trust or her love. Cameron Roberts might have orchestrated both her death in an explosion in the Atlantic as well as her subsequent rebirth as an OHS agent, but that didn’t mean the Company hadn’t targeted her for elimination. Even someone as powerful as Cameron Roberts could not protect her from a shot in the dark on a deserted street or an ice pick slipped between her ribs in a crowded subway. In some part of her mind, she had always expected death to come that way, swiftly and unexpectedly. She didn’t fear her own death, but she was terrified that her mere presence in Diane’s life placed her in harm’s way.

“If you tell me what’s wrong, I can help you,” Diane said quietly.

Valerie caressed Diane’s cheek and kissed her again. “I’m not certain I should be here. It might be better if I stayed in a hotel for a while.”

“Because?”

“Someone may be looking for me.”

Diane drew a shaky breath. “Someone may be trying to kill you.”

“Diane,” Valerie said gently.

“There’s no point pretending otherwise. I know you might still be in danger.” Diane took Valerie’s hand. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t. I need to get ready for the briefing.”

“I keep forgetting how ridiculously early you people start your day.” Diane forced a note of levity into her voice. “Then come into the kitchen while I make coffee.”

Valerie followed her, and in comfortable silence they ground coffee, filled the coffeepot, and took down cups while waiting for the coffee to brew. She had never shared such simple domestic moments with anyone in her life. She had never lived with anyone, never had a long-term relationship, never been in love. She had loved another woman, one woman, and loved her still, but not with the consuming need that she felt for Diane.

Valerie leaned back against the counter and Diane put her arms around her waist.

“You told me that Cam hasn’t been able to uncover any evidence that the Company or anyone else is looking for you,” Diane said. “You said the cover story of you being killed in the boat explosion would be enough. Especially with your handler gone.”

“All of that is probably true. Henry was the link between me and whoever he reported to up the company food chain, and with him dead and the cover story Cam put out about my death, I might just be a line item on someone’s tally sheet.” Valerie knew the hole in the argument was that her handler might have given her identity away, but she wasn’t going to frighten Diane over things she couldn’t change. “So with everyone in the intelligence community focused on finding who was behind 9/11, I’m probably not on anyone’s to-do list.”

“But you don’t believe it?”

Valerie looked away.

“I know it’s hard for you to trust me—”

“No,” Valerie said immediately. “I do trust you. It’s just that—listen to yourself. You’re standing in your kitchen talking about handlers and targets and cover stories.” Frustrated and angry, hating the weakness that kept her in Diane’s life when she knew, she knew, it was wrong, Valerie plunged a hand through her short, thick red-blond curls. She’d cut her hair, she’d changed the color, she was wearing green contact lenses to cover her blue irises—another new identity, another new history. But at heart, she remained a cipher, even to herself. “Is this really what you want in your life?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Diane snapped. “Because I’m tired of answering it.” She gave Valerie a small shake and forced her to meet her gaze. “I love you,” she said with slow emphasis on each word. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

“Any of it.” Valerie closed her eyes and pulled Diane close. They were very nearly the same height, and she rested her cheek against Diane’s. The scent of Diane’s perfume lingered ever so faintly along her hairline. She’d gone to sleep countless nights dreaming of that fragrance. “I don’t have a clue why you love me.”

“Well, I’m tired of telling you.” Diane kissed Valerie’s mouth, then moved to her neck. “So I’ll have to work harder at showing you. Come back to bed. The coffee will keep.”

Valerie laughed softly and abandoned good judgment, letting Diane tease her into surrendering, for the moment.

A stocky young redhead sipped coffee from a tall paper cup as he stood at the window of his rental unit watching Blair Powell’s building. Directly across the gated park that occupied a square city block, the lights came on in Blair Powell’s loft. Shadows flickered behind the drawn curtains of what must be the bedroom. To the casual observer on the street, her windows appeared to be like all the others in the building, but he knew they were constructed of bulletproof glass. The doorman who stood inside the double doors in a topcoat and uniform was also a private security agent. A Secret Service agent would be stationed behind the desk. Secret Service Agent Cynthia Parker had been at that post when his brothers-in-arms had burst through those doors a little over two months before, firing automatic weapons. According to intelligence reports, the female Secret Service agent had killed one of his compatriots before she’d been gunned down. They had expected casualties upon entry, and one death was excellent. They hadn’t anticipated that Cameron Roberts would fire on her own agent without a moment’s hesitation. They had always planned for Secret Service Agent Foster to die during the assault, but not before he had assassinated Blair Powell. They had underestimated Cameron Roberts not once, but twice. That could not happen again.