“I’m not pining. I’m pissed off.”

“Okay.” Diane stroked Blair’s leg, then patted it. “So. Tell.”

“Lucinda had the bright idea of assigning a reporter to cover the wedding, and Cam agrees.”

Diane frowned. “You knew you were going to create a buzz. After the press announcement this morning, I’m surprised you don’t already have a news van parked in front of your building.”

“I do. Three of them.” Blair grimaced. “Fortunately, they can’t come within thirty feet of the entrance, so all they can do is yell questions. This situation is different.”

“What, Lucinda promised some reporter a one-on-one? You’ve done plenty of interviews before.”

“We’re not talking an interview,” Blair said glumly. “We’re talking a member of the wedding. She’s showing up tomorrow and she’s going to be with us all day, every day, until this is over.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“And you agreed?” Diane got up to refill their glasses. “Why?”

“I didn’t agree. Lucinda ordered it and Cam backed her.” Blair waved Diane and the wine away. She hadn’t even finished half a glass yet. She hated being at odds with Cam. For so many years, anger had fueled her life. Her resistance to the restrictions imposed by her father’s career had actually invigorated her. Certainly, her rage had inspired some of her best paintings. Since Cam, she had learned to compromise, and the new balance in her life had led her in surprising new directions in her art. She didn’t resent the changes, but there were times, like now, when she needed Cam to take her part. And it hurt when she didn’t. “You know what it’s like saying no to Lucinda.”

“But that’s not what has you drinking wine on my sofa in the middle of the night.”

“It’s silly, but I want Cam to care about the wedding like I do.”

Diane wrapped her arm around Blair’s shoulders and hugged her. “Congratulations. I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you say that you wanted something from a lover before. Other than hot sex, that is.”

Blair laughed. “That’s one thing I never have to request from Cam.”

“Don’t gloat.”

“You should talk,” Blair teased. “If wanting something from her is such a good thing, why does it feel lousy?”

“Just because we want something doesn’t mean we’re going to get it, or even that we should. But we rarely want things from people we don’t care about, and you never let yourself care before.”

“You already know I’m crazy about her.”

“I know,” Diane said, “but that’s not the same thing.” Diane rubbed Blair’s shoulder. “But she probably can’t read your mind, so you’ll have to tell her what you need.”

“It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t.”

Blair sighed. “Besides, she’s not going to change her mind about the reporter.”

“Cam doesn’t strike me as the type who likes publicity any more than you do. Why is she going along with it?”

Blair said nothing.

“Aha. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Cam thinks it will make security easier because we’ll be able to limit my exposure. Fewer press conferences, fewer interviews. You know the drill.”

Diane laughed. “You don’t really expect Cam to say no to anything that’s going to keep you safe?”

“I am safe,” Blair said vehemently. “Have you looked outside your door? Hara will be there until I come out. And there are more downstairs, outside the building and in the car.”

“Well, I happen to be glad about that. I wish Valerie had people following her everywhere she went.” Abruptly, Diane stood and strode to the balcony doors. She wrapped her arms around her body as if she were cold. “I know the lack of privacy is horrible for you.” She spun around, her eyes fierce. “But you have a team of experts to keep you safe. No one is protecting her.”

“I’m sorry,” Blair said softly. “I should be grateful, and I’m not. And you must be sick with worry over her.”

Diane pushed her fingers through her hair and heaved a deep breath. “I want to believe that no one cares about her or about what she might know any longer, but it’s hard. I know that agents like her have very little connection to one another, and almost no one except their handlers even know who they are. But every time she walks out the door…”

“You’re afraid she won’t come back,” Blair said, voicing their shared nightmare.

“I can’t tell her because she already thinks I’ll be better off without her.”

“God, they don’t get it, do they?” Blair said in exasperation.

Diane laughed. “Which part? That if we’d be better off without them, we wouldn’t be so terrified of losing them?”

“For starters.” Blair held out her hand and Diane took it, settling beside her on the couch once again.

“So,” Diane said. “Tell me about this reporter.”

“The only good thing about this,” Blair said, “is that she’s not any happier about it than I am. Dana Barnett. She’s—”

“The investigative reporter? I’ve seen her on television. God, she’s gorgeous.”

Blair leaned back and regarded Diane through narrowed lids. “I thought you were off the market?”

“Off the market, yes. Dead and buried, no.”

Blair laughed. “She’s very good looking. She also seems tough and smart and doesn’t want this assignment. So maybe she won’t bother us very much.”

“She can bother me all she wants,” Diane muttered.

“Well, don’t expect me to run interference. I’m out of practice.” Blair nudged her. “And don’t forget that Valerie is armed.”

Diane smiled. “I never thought I’d say this, but I really can’t imagine being with anyone except her. God, that is terrifying.”

Blair leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

Paula Stark rubbed her eyes and picked up the most recent stack of intelligence reports in one hand and a cold cup of coffee in the other. She sipped absently while scanning the memos from that day’s summaries, focusing on the sections that had been highlighted by Iggie Jackson, the acting communications coordinator while Mac was in Colorado. She paid particular attention to anything mentioning Andrew Powell, New York City, the Midwest, patriot organizations, or Blair. Five of the twenty pages were devoted to excerpts from newspaper articles, Web posts, speeches, or other responses to the official White House press release regarding the upcoming wedding. All of the usual suspects were represented—fundamentalist Christians, the Roman Catholic Assembly of Archbishops, the Anglicans, and any number of other religious institutions opposed to gay marriage—but what interested her most were several statements from patriot organization leaders. She circled one from Randolph Hogan.

“Something interesting?” Cam asked as she dropped into a swivel chair next to Paula.

“One of the right-wing paramilitary guys posted a blog blaming Blair for the decline of…just about everything. The family, the church, and the state of the nation.”

Cam frowned and held out her hand. She read the excerpt and handed it back. “He’s on our list of possible Matheson contacts.”

“I know. I got the update from Renee while we were in Washington.” Stark set the stack of papers aside. “Coincidence?”

“What do you think?”

“I think all these guys are in bed together. On the other hand, if he’s got ties to Matheson, he’d be pretty stupid to make a public statement like this.”

“Ego often trumps judgment,” Cam noted.

“It would be nice to have someone inside his camp.”

“Maybe we do, but the FBI has not been forthcoming about their sources.” A muscle bunched along the edge of Cam’s jaw. “And apparently they didn’t get the directive about interagency cooperation.”

“It’s going to take a while for everyone to adjust to this new hierarchy,” Paula said. “I’m not even sure who I work for anymore.”

Cam regarded her steadily.

Stark grinned. “Well, I know who I report to, Commander.”

“Nice save.” Cam laughed briefly, then her eyes grew serious. “We’re going to have serious chain of command issues in Colorado. You know about Tom Turner?”

Paula frowned. “I do now. He called this afternoon to tell me his people were on the ground out there. Coordinating with Mac and Ellen. He was very friendly and made it sound like we’d all be one big happy family.”

“Tom’s priority is POTUS, and it should be,” Cam said. “My concern is Blair.”

“So is mine.” Paula sensed Cam waiting, and she had no problem replying to the unspoken question. “My job is to secure the welfare of the first daughter. Nothing takes priority over that.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

“No problem, Commander.”

“I take it you’ve been briefed on the new member of the team joining us tomorrow?” Cam checked the plain-faced clock on the wall. One a.m. “Today, I should say.”

Paula pointed to a folder. “Dana Barnett.” She hesitated, judging her next words. She did not want to tread into personal territory with the commander, but she needed to know what kind of trouble she was looking at. “I don’t imagine Egret is pleased.”

Cam smiled wryly. “I didn’t know you were given to understatement, Chief.”

“We’ll handle it,” Paula said confidently.

“I imagine you will.” Cam stood, her eyes weary. “Probably better than I have. Good night, Chief.”

Paula watched her go, wishing she knew how to ease her burden. Then she reached for the last of the security bulletins, because they all had their parts to play even if they didn’t understand this new stage they’d been thrust upon.

Chapter Six

Friday

A little after six, Cam got up from the sofa where she’d fallen asleep a few hours earlier and walked into the kitchen. She had slept in a T-shirt and a pair of flannel boxers, and the apartment felt cold. Cold and empty. She contemplated making coffee, but sat at the breakfast bar instead and read the note that she’d read three times when she had returned from the command center the night before.