“Yes,” Dana said, careful to keep her tone neutral. “I can see that.”

“Cameron.” Valerie crouched down, her shoulder touching Cam’s. She rested her rifle against the boulder that provided them partial cover.

“Hello, Valerie.”

“How long has it been?”

“Thirty-two minutes,” Cam said without looking at her watch. “Is everyone secured at the lodge?”

“Yes. No secondary force?”

“None that I’ve seen. I have a feeling he plans to deliver her to whoever wants to use her as a bargaining chip. Otherwise, he would have taken her out already.”

“I agree. Up until today, his agenda has been assassination, not kidnapping.”

Cam registered the pressure of Valerie’s arm against hers and felt an infusion of strength—unsought but freely given. Her next breath came just a little easier. “Any ideas on who’s pulling his strings?”

“Foreign interests—probably working with Bin Laden, or allied factions.”

Cam’s stomach spasmed and she swallowed back a wave of nausea. She agreed. The stakes had been raised. Matheson was probably

exactly what he appeared, a deranged but clever domestic terrorist whose alliance with those with far more destructive allegiances had turned him into a lethal adversary. “Recommendation?”

“Two four-man teams, flash-bangs followed by rapid entry.”

“We have three hostages at risk.” What Cam didn’t have to say was that a rescue attempt would likely result in casualties. Even given the five to six seconds of overwhelming disorientation Matheson was likely to experience in the chaos created by a million candlewatt flash of light and a 175 decibel bang, he was certain to open fire. Probably indiscriminately. The assault team would have body armor, but none of the hostages would. “He’ll try to take them out.”

“If we let him leave here with her, her chance of survival drops drastically. Right now, he’s on our turf and he’s outgunned.”

“He’s counting on us not launching a counterattack. He’ll kill her if we do, and he knows we know it.”

Valerie said nothing. Cam wondered if she would make a different decision if the hostage Matheson was most likely to kill wasn’t her lover. She didn’t know. How could she? All she knew was what she felt right now. Helpless. Powerless. Afraid.

Blair listened to Matheson talk, her mind rebelling at the insanity of his diatribe. How could anyone believe that mass murder was justifiable for any reason, let alone love of God and country? She had to remind herself that of course he didn’t make sense, because he was a madman. The frightening thing was that he didn’t look or really even sound crazy, until she absorbed his message of hatred and bigotry. She shivered, not from fear but revulsion.

Dana was amazing, drawing Matheson out with her questions and attention. Somehow she managed to engage him, making him feel as if what he had to say was very important. As if he were very important. As Blair watched and listened, she could see Matheson warm to his topic. His voice and face became more animated. He was truly terrifying in his utter sense of righteousness.

As they talked, Blair realized that Matheson’s focus, even his body position, shifted more and more toward Dana. She had a feeling that Dana knew it too, and suddenly, she understood exactly what Dana Barnett was doing. Dana was making herself the target.

Blair suddenly feared Dana would try to draw Matheson’s fire to give Blair a chance to get away. She couldn’t let that happen. And it wasn’t just Dana she was worried for. Paula continued to bleed and appeared to have lapsed into unconsciousness again. They were running out of time. Time.

Cam wouldn’t wait much longer, Blair was certain of it. Cam would come for her, and when she did, she would be in danger. Too many in danger. Women she loved, men she respected, people risking their lives for her. No more. No more.

She took a breath, emptied her thoughts, prepared herself. She felt calm, at peace. This was right. As it should be. No one should stand between her and evil.

It was her fight, as it always had been. She was not going to let one more person die because of her. She would take him on herself before she let that happen. She eased along the sofa until she was poised on the end closest to him. The distance between them was about six feet. If she pushed off hard and fast and launched a flying kick, she would offer less of a target and she might be able to take him down before he got off more than one shot. If he hit her, the shot would probably be in her leg or shoulder—with luck, nowhere lethal.

Chapter Twenty-five

Cam’s cell phone rang. “Roberts.”

“We just received a call,” Lucinda Washburn reported, “demanding the release of fourteen so-called political prisoners who are slotted to be transported from Afghanistan to a U.S. military holding facility in two days.”

“Were you able to triangulate the location of the caller?”

“No, but it wasn’t Matheson. Our language analysts all agree this man is Middle Eastern.”

“What did he say about Blair?” Cam struggled with the frustration of being out of the loop. She hated relying on bureaucrats and desk jockeys. Lucinda was a great political strategist but she wasn’t a field operative.

“He said…” Lucinda’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “He said we had thirty minutes to agree to his requests. Once we agreed, he would wait twelve hours for us to release the prisoners.”

“If you refuse?” A trickle of icy sweat ran down the back of Cam’s neck. Despite the freezing temperatures, her hair was soaked with sweat and she had to keep rubbing her forearm across her face to clear her vision.

“Blair will be executed.”

Cam knew it was coming but she still felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. “That doesn’t make any sense. Matheson walked into a situation with no exit, and without Blair, he doesn’t have a chance of getting out of that cabin alive.”

“It’s possible that Matheson and the individual negotiating for the foreign prisoners have different agendas. They may not be following the same game plan.”

“Which makes the situation here all the more volatile.”

“We don’t have time to provide backup for you, other than the members of the president’s advance security team who are already out there. I can call Tom—”

“No, I don’t want them involved. I told you, we have the people.” Cam squinted through the glare at the cabin. It looked empty, and yet it held everything. Everything. “Let me know if there’s any further communication.”

“Cam,” Lucinda said, her voice losing its tight formality. “The president and I trust you to get her out. Whatever you need to do, get her out. Get them all out.”

“I will.”

Cam disconnected and said to Valerie, “The president has thirty minutes to agree to a prisoner exchange.”

“Will he?”

“No.”

Valerie touched Cam’s sleeve. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Cam laughed hollowly. “Blair would chew his butt off.”

“I would imagine.” Valerie tightened her grip on Cam’s arm. “Matheson will have to move her. She’s his way out of here.”

“Yes.”

“I want you to relinquish command to me now.”

Cam’s jaws clenched. “You know I can’t—”

“You know it’s what should be done.” Valerie’s gaze was steady and her eyes kind. “Trust me, Cameron, and let me do this for you. For both of you.”

“They’re my people,” Cam whispered, wishing she could will herself into their place.

“I know that, but she’s your heart. None of us can think clearly when our hearts are at stake.”

“I have to go in.”

Valerie smiled. “Of course you do. And you will.”

Cam hesitated for what felt like an eternity, agonizing with the decision that would change the course of her life. And because she hesitated, for even a single heartbeat, she said, “Take the lead.”

Matheson interrupted his monologue to Dana when the phone in his jacket pocket started to ring. Watching Blair, he smiled as he answered. “Yes? I see. Forty minutes, then. Godspeed, Colonel.”

Blair didn’t dare risk looking in Dana’s direction, and since Matheson’s automatic was now pointed squarely at her own chest, she held her position. Sooner or later, he was going to want her to get up. Then she would have a chance, probably her only chance.

“It seems that your father doesn’t think you’re all that valuable,” Matheson said.

Blair grinned with satisfaction. “I guess he said no to whatever you wanted.”

“Call your girlfriend.” Matheson tossed his cell phone to Blair, his expression one of distaste. “I have a message for her.”

Blair hoped her hands weren’t visibly shaking as she punched in Cam’s number.

“Roberts.”

“It’s Blair, Cam.” Blair wanted to say, It’s me, darling, I’m all right. Don’t do anything crazy. But she kept her voice neutral because she wouldn’t give Matheson the satisfaction of listening to anything personal between them.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, but Paula is hu—” She gasped as Matheson wrenched her hair back and yanked the phone from her hand at the same time. He pushed her down onto the sofa and held his gun on her.

“Listen carefully,” Matheson said into the phone. “In twenty-five minutes I want one of your armored vehicles in front of this cabin. Don’t tell me you can’t get it down here, because I know you can.”

Blair could barely make out the sound of Cam’s voice, but just hearing the strong, steady timbre gave her hope. She strained to catch a few words.

“Too much…snow on…between here…parking lo—”

“You forget, I know what those vehicles are capable of. Twenty-five minutes. Back it up to the cabin with the driver’s door level with the porch stairs.”