“Here you are, dear,” Amanda said, holding out an envelope. “Your itinerary and tickets. You’re expected at Ms. Powell’s in the morning.”

“Pretty sure I’d be going, weren’t you?”

Amanda smiled beatifically. “Of course. You were my first choice.”

Crap.

Matheson walked carefully along the narrow rows between the plain white headstones, leaving his son’s grave behind. When he reached the banks of the Potomac, the hallowed ground of Arlington Cemetery stretching out behind him, he stared across the water. The Lincoln Memorial and the White House stood opposite him just beyond the river. Symbols of freedom and national pride, now tarnished by those who had forgotten what had made the country great. The most powerful nation on Earth made impotent by laws enacted to protect the unworthy, financially and morally bankrupted from supporting the weak, the ignorant, and the debauched. It was time to return to power those who rightfully deserved it, to reward the sons of those who had built this great land. When he showed the people the mockery their leaders had made of their heritage, when the pretenders were unveiled as nothing more than puppets for perverts and thieves, the true patriots would rise again. And he would have justice.

Chapter Five

As the plane touched down at Teterboro Airport across the river from Manhattan in New Jersey, Cam noted the two hulking black shapes with bright halogen eyes idling on the tarmac. She couldn’t see beyond the tinted windows of the Suburbans, and she considered how easy it would be for someone to intercept the assigned vehicles on their way to the airport and replace them with identical vehicles filled with hostiles. That would, of course, assume a break in communication had gone unnoticed somewhere along the approach route. How long would it take to make the switch? Thirty seconds? Would a burst of static and less than a minute of patchy radio communications signal to anyone back at the command center that something had gone wrong? Could Blair walk unsuspectingly down the stairway from the plane and directly into a fusillade of bullets?

“Just sit tight for a second,” Cam murmured to Blair and unbuckled her seat belt.

“Cam?” Blair called after her, but Cam had already edged her way up the aisle.

“Who do you have on the ground?” Cam asked as she dropped into the seat next to Paula Stark.

Stark folded the week’s itinerary she’d been studying and slid it into the inside pocket of her navy blue blazer. Without the slightest hesitation, she replied, “Phelps, Edwards, Ramsey, and Wozinski. Problem, Commander?”

“I don’t want Blair to disembark until you’ve verified the identities of everyone in both vehicles.”

Stark regarded Cam steadily. “That’s standard procedure.”

“I know.” Cam blew out a breath and looked past Stark out the window. The runway lights created sharp, flat circles of white interspersed with inky blackness, like so many pearls on an ebony chain. “And I know that you know it. I just—” She lifted her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

When Cam started to rise, Stark, in a wholly uncharacteristic move, restrained her with a hand on her arm. Cam could count on one hand the times Stark had touched her, so she sat back down and waited for Stark to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said this to you, but I’ve always believed it,” Stark said, holding Cam’s gaze. “You’re the best Secret Service agent I’ve ever seen. None of our training prepared us for what happened in September, but you made the right calls and probably saved all of us. If you ever have a feeling something’s not right, I want to know about it.”

“Even if it’s just nerves?” Cam said self-critically.

“It’s not nerves, Commander. It’s instinct.”

Cam smiled faintly. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this to you, but I believe it. You’re the right person to head Blair’s detail.”

Stark blushed and, for the first time, looked down. “Thank you.”

“There are some things you need to know about Colorado. Let’s talk when we get back to base.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What was that all about back there in the plane?” Blair asked once she and Cam were settled in the back of the Suburban. Greg Wozinski, six-five and two hundred fifty pounds of blond-haired, blue-eyed beefsteak, managed to appear invisible as he occupied the facing seat in the rear of the armor-plated SUV. His expression was impassive and he might have been deaf for all the reaction he gave to their conversation. Nevertheless, she kept her voice low. She leaned into Cam’s body and kept one hand on Cam’s thigh. “What happened?”

“Nothing important,” Cam said.

“Stark doesn’t usually keep me strapped in that long after landing. Did you tell her to do that?”

“I don’t tell Stark what to do.”

“You’re hedging.”

Cam took Blair’s hand and held it against her middle. “I would have asked her to do it, if she hadn’t been planning to already. Your security is going to be doubled until after the wedding.”

“It could hardly be any heavier,” Blair said tightly. “I’ve got people with me all the time. And let’s not forget, soon I’ll have my very own personal reporter.”

“That hasn’t been confirmed.”

“Oh, please. Lucinda has decreed it.” Blair leaned her cheek against Cam’s shoulder. “I love her. I really do. But I can’t believe I let her use me the way she does. Is nothing sacred?”

“For Lucinda? Yes. The presidency.” Cam kissed Blair’s temple. “But she loves you too.”

“That doesn’t stop her from manipulating my private life.”

“She doesn’t see any difference between the personal and professional.”

“I used to think that about you,” Blair said.

“For most of my life that’s been true.” Cam shrugged. “It’s that way for most agents.”

“If you had to choose between me and your duty…” Blair shook her head. “Never mind.”

“You. I’d choose you.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m just tired.”

Cam released Blair’s hand and slipped her arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “We’re all tired. But you can ask me anything you need to know, anytime.”

“I don’t want Dana Barnett inside my life.”

“You’ll be safer this way.”

Blair pulled away. “I’ve already got all the security I need. You said so yourself.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Forget it. Let’s just forget it. I already know how you feel. You agree with Lucinda.”

“Yes,” Cam said, feeling a barrier settle between them. On this one issue, Blair’s safety, she would never compromise, no matter how much Blair needed her to. Not even when it drove a wedge between them.

Diane held open her apartment door and peered at Blair, who’d arrived unannounced. Seeing Blair in tight jeans and a tighter black sweater, with her hair down and a wild look in her eyes, Diane was reminded of old times. Old times when Blair was unhappy and looking for trouble to take her mind off her troubles. What was different was that Patrice Hara, one of Blair’s Secret Service agents, stood just to the left of the door with her back to the wall in a position that gave her a view up and down the hallway to the elevator and the stairwells. In the pre-Cam days, Blair would have given her spookies the slip. “Hello, darling. You do know it’s after midnight?”

“The night is young.” Blair tossed her leather jacket on the chair as she crossed Diane’s living room to the minibar tucked into one corner. She pulled a bottle of wine and a corkscrew from underneath and set about opening it. Diane’s platinum blond hair fell loose to her shoulders and, barefoot and wearing pale blue silk pajamas, she looked ready for bed. “Am I keeping you awake?”

“Of course not—I was reading. I still keep New York hours.” Diane settled onto the arm of the sofa, watching Blair curiously. “Since you’ve gone domestic with Cam, you’re the one on a DC schedule. Up at an ungodly hour and no carousing until dawn anymore.”

Blair paused, the wine bottle suspended in one hand as she looked around the apartment. “I didn’t even think to ask if Valerie was here. I can’t get used to you living with someone.”

“She’s not here. And I’m not living with her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s still…at work hardly seems to cover it.” Diane walked over to the bar, picked up an empty wineglass, and held it out. “And even if I were cohabitating, you can drop by anytime. What’s going on?”

“Cam is working late too.”

“That’s nothing new.”

Blair filled their glasses and sipped from hers. “We have a new member of the wedding party.”

“Really? I was about to tell you the same thing.”

“You tell first. I think your news is probably better than mine.”

Blair flopped onto the couch and propped her scuffed brown boots on the gleaming wood coffee table.

Diane curled up beside her on the deep red sofa, drawing her legs up beneath her and turning sideways to face Blair. “I got an e-mail from Emory. She’s coming into the city tomorrow for some kind of grant meeting and she mentioned she was going to spend a few days here before heading out to Colorado. I invited her to get together with us while we put the finishing touches on the wedding plans. Do you mind?”

“No, that’s great. I like Emory.” Blair stared moodily into her wine. “I’d offer for her to stay at my place, but who would want to stay there? I don’t even want to stay there.”

“I already told her she could stay with me, but she said she was fine at the hotel.” Diane tapped a polished fingernail on Blair’s knee. “What’s Cam done, sweetie?”

“What makes you think it’s her?”

“You’re fretting. Lucinda annoys you. Nosy reporters make you swear. I have even been known to irritate you now and then. But only Cam makes you fret and pine.”