Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

by the moist, lush surface of her lips. Her lips were full and red and,

as she recalled, very kissable. She raised her gaze and saw that Louise

had been watching her, probably reading her mind. She grinned and

Louise’s smile widened.

Louise was attractive—shoulder-length pale blond hair, straight

and perfectly styled, unlike Wes’s windblown canvas of golden browns

and summer highlights. Louise’s eyes were mahogany, completely

different than the intense green of Wes’s. They looked nothing alike—

Louise was sultry and sensuous, Wes was intensely sexual, physically

commanding. And why was she thinking about Wes when another

woman was sending her come-and-get-it signals?

She wasn’t just off her game, she was completely without one.

True, she hadn’t really thought about any kind of date in weeks, maybe

a few months, but it’s not something you would forget. Bicycle riding

and all that. She kissed Louise softly. “If that’s an invitation to return,

I accept.”

“Good. But you’re not leaving just yet.” Louise tugged Evyn’s

shirt free from her pants and slid her hand underneath to skate her

fingers over Evyn’s belly.

Evyn’s muscles contracted into a tight knot beneath the teasing

caress. Her breath caught. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a

voice warned her off, but she ignored it. She was single, after all, and

this was what she knew. Louise scratched her nails rhythmically up and

down the center of Evyn’s abs and then dipped her fingers beneath the

waistband of Evyn’s pants. Evyn gripped the edge of the counter, her

thighs trembling, and kissed her again.

After all, why not?

• 95 •

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chapter twelve

Wes woke up a little after 0500 and turned on the television.

The city had received over six inches of snow during the

night, and the mayor had declared a snow emergency. All federal offices

were closed, but she didn’t think that extended to the White House. She

ordered a large pot of coffee and an American breakfast and showered

while waiting for it to come up. She’d had an aide send her clothes

down from her previous quarters, and they’d been waiting for her last

night when she’d returned. She’d have the rest moved down when she

had time.

In keeping with the less formal WHMU protocol, she dressed in

tailored black pants, a thin black leather belt, low black boots, and an

off-white open-collared shirt. At 0600 she flagged down a cab in front

of the hotel and instructed the driver to drop her off at the northwest

gate. “You work there?” asked the cabbie, a friendly young woman

with red-rimmed eyes. Judging by the empty coffee cups and fast-food

wrappers in the front seat, she’d been driving all night.

“Yes,” Wes said. “Long night?”

“Yeah, but the money is good so I’m not complaining.” The

cabbie maneuvered down the single cleared lane in the middle of a

two-way street, swerving around abandoned cars and piles of snow.

Fortunately, the streets were nearly deserted—snow-covered cars

clogged intersections and narrow side streets. The trip usually took

fifteen minutes. Today was closer to forty-five, but she was still early

for her meeting with Evyn when the cabbie let her out.

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“Thanks,” Wes called. “Have a safe one.”

“You too.”

The cab’s wheels spun, then caught, and the vehicle sluiced away.

Wes nodded to the officer at the gate and showed her ID. “Can you

point me to my office?”

“Ground floor, halfway down on the left.”

“Thanks.”

Wes hung her coat on the wooden rack inside the door, sat in

the leather swivel chair behind the desk, and took stock. The room

previously occupied by Len O’Shaughnessy had been cleared of

personal effects and now resembled every duty office she’d ever

seen—the bookcases and desk were wood, not metal, but even so, they

had an institutional look to them. The nicely framed prints on the wall

were generic renditions of American historical events that had taken

place in the region surrounding the capital. The titles in the bookcases

were standard medical classics—Harrison’s Principles of Internal

Medicine, Schwartz’s Principles of Surgery, Chance’s Introduction

to Biochemistry. Next to them, white loose-leaf binders were neatly

labeled with black script: trauma protocol, acute surgical conditions,

medical emergencies, toxic exposure, poisoning, and so on down the

line of emergency situations. She’d have to review them all.

The computer was running and she booted up. O’Shaughnessy’s

password had already been swept. Her name appeared with a prompt

to enter a password. She chose one, repeated it as directed, and was in.

She clicked a desktop icon for an e-mail program, and a list of e-mails

appeared in the in-box. Generic messages appeared from various White

House departments—the press corps, communications—and, at the

very bottom, one from [email protected] She looked at the recipient

and smiled at the [email protected] Apparently someone was taking

care of the details. Hopefully they’d arrange for quarters for her soon.

She opened Evyn’s message.

Good morning, Doc. I’ll wait for you in the ready

room—it’s in the basement of the OEOB. Thought you might

be running late due to the nasty weather. ED

Wes checked her watch. She still had time, but none of the other

e-mails looked important. Since the WHMU was set to run without her

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until she officially took charge and entered the rotation, she had nothing

else to do. Good morning, Doc. I’ll wait for you…

A rush of unexpected pleasure warmed her. She closed the mail

program, grabbed her coat, and went in search of the ready room,

Evyn’s slow smile playing through her mind.

v

Evyn poured a cup of coffee and dropped onto a sofa opposite

a widescreen TV in the ready room where she and the other agents

hung out between shifts or while waiting for Eagle to go out. She had

the place to herself and was glad of it. She wasn’t feeling talkative

and definitely didn’t want to spar with Gary about where she’d spent

the night or what she’d been doing. She hadn’t had time to go home

after waking up at Louise’s to discover the city buried under snow.

Fortunately, she’d had a change of clothes in her car—she always

did—although the blue long-sleeved polo shirt and dark khakis weren’t

what she usually wore to work. Gary’d take one look at her and know

she hadn’t been home—he knew by now what she packed in her go

bag. She closed her eyes and tuned out the news anchor, leaving her

alone with her thoughts. That was a mistake. Her internal third degree

was almost as bad as Gary’s would have been. She hadn’t had a one-

night stand in months, although maybe one-night stand wasn’t accurate

since it wasn’t the first time she’d been with Louise. The whole evening

had come out of nowhere, and she wasn’t usually impulsive when it

came to women. When she wanted company, she found it, but it was

always planned. Not last night. Why had she stayed when her mind

was only half in the moment? Louise didn’t know her well enough to

notice. At least she hoped Louise couldn’t tell she’d drifted away a few

times, very nearly starting to think of someone else before she’d caught

herself. Hell. That was just low. She’d never done that before and didn’t

want a repeat.

The door opened and Wes Masters walked in, looking just as

good out of her uniform as she had in it. She walked as if she was

still wearing her dress blues—confidently, her expression unhurried,

untroubled, and sure. Looking just as good as she had for the briefest

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moment last night when Evyn had imagined how that tight body would

feel covering hers.

“Morning, Doc,” Evyn said, feigning a cool she didn’t feel,

conscious of her own slightly rumpled appearance. At least her clothes

were clean. Still, a niggle of unease burrowed in her belly, and she

wondered if Wes could tell she’d come straight from a bed that wasn’t

hers. Not a one-night stand exactly, more like a legitimate date—second

date, even—and she’d made plans to see Louise again later in the

month, schedules permitting. Evyn’s skin prickled at the thought. She

didn’t do repeats—well, she hadn’t in a good long time—but Louise

had been fun, sexy and passionate, and completely undemanding. When

she’d said she had tickets to a holiday show and invited her to go, Evyn

couldn’t think of a single reason not to say yes. So she had.

“Have any trouble getting in this morning?” Wes asked.

Looking up with a start, Evyn stood, wondering how long she’d

been daydreaming and if anything showed in her face. “No. You?”

“Got a cab. No problem.” A faintly puzzled look crossed Wes’s

face and was quickly gone.

“Ready?” Evyn heard the curt tone in her voice and consciously

relaxed her shoulders. Wes was too sharp not to pick up on her tension,

and she didn’t intend for Wes Masters to have an inkling of what was

going on in her head.

“Absolutely. Can’t wait to get started.”

Evyn laughed at Wes’s dry tone. The uneasy churning in her

stomach disappeared and she smiled. “I’ll just bet.” She walked to the

door and locked it. “Take your jacket off.”

Watching Evyn sort through a gear box she’d placed on the table,

Wes shrugged out of her jacket. “Shirt too?”

“Ah, no,” Evyn said, busying herself untangling the lines for the

earpiece and wrist mic Wes would need to wear. She hadn’t thought

of Wes naked for all of five minutes, and she’d really like to make it

ten—years—or so before she had to squelch another image of Wes’s

tight body sliding over hers. Her thighs twitched. Hell. She held up the

radio. “This clips on the back of your pants. Turn around.”

Wes complied. “I’ll be on your channel?”

“That’s right.”

Evyn secured the radio with the minimal amount of contact

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possible. Even clothed, Wes had a great body. Unclothed, she’d be

incredible. She smelled really good too—kind of woodsy and crisp,

like the breeze on Whitley Island before the storm had rolled in. Clean,

sharp, exciting. Evyn stepped away before her skin burst into flames.

“That’s it. You can dre—put your jacket on.”

“That’s it?”

“You need something else?” Evyn asked around the knot in her

throat. Maybe she ought to move up her date with Louise. This hair-

trigger arousal thing was new and damn annoying. A little regular sex

might put a lid on it. “Ah…any questions?”

“Nope. The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be done,

right?”

“That’s the theory.” Evyn searched for a hint of resentment or

anger or resistance but found only the cool, confident tones she’d come

to associate with Wes’s approach to everything. Her body cooled off

and her head started working again. Game time. “Let’s go test it.”

“Where are we headed?” Wes asked, matching Evyn stride

for stride as they left the ready room. A trio of black SUVs waited

outside.

“The James J. Rowley Training Center—but we just call it

Beltsville.”

“What are we—”

“If you’re not in the president’s vehicle, you’ll be one behind it,”

Evyn said as they climbed into the rear of the second car. “Ordinarily

you’d have your own field-trauma kit, but you can use our FAT kit

today.”

“If I’m expected to use this equipment for any reason today,” Wes

said, “I’d like to see what’s in it before we leave.”

“You’ll have what you need if anything comes up. You can

customize your own later.”

Evyn settled next to the big guy Wes had seen at Whitley Manor.

He extended his hand. “Morning, Doc. I’m Gary Brown.”

“Wes Masters.” Wes shook hands and settled across from him and

Evyn. The cloak-and-dagger treatment was already starting to get old

and she’d just started. She understood she needed to know how PPD

operated, but she didn’t see why she needed to be in the dark. “So, will

I have to pass the physical before I get to play with the big kids?”

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Gary coughed and looked out the smoked-glass windows. To

Wes’s surprise, Evyn colored faintly.

“Can you?” Evyn asked.

As a matter of fact, she’d just had her annual re-quals and part of

that had been a fitness eval, but that had to be in her records. Which

Evyn had undoubtedly seen. “Well, I do spend an awful lot of my time

at a desk, but pushing papers around can be pretty tiring.”

Evyn grinned as if Wes’s sarcasm pleased her. “No sit-ups for you

today, Doc, but I hope you can run.”

• 101 •

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chapter thirteen

The first blast rocked the vehicle about forty-five minutes into

the trip. All Wes could see out the window was a tree-lined

road and a brilliant flash of orange somewhere ahead of them before

a cloud of dust—or smoke—enveloped the SUV. The vehicle swerved

hard right and she bounced against the door frame. Pain shot down her

left arm. She grabbed for the medical kit at her feet with her other hand

and held on.

“What’s the situation?” she shouted over a series of deafening

roars. The road beneath the heavy chassis vibrated.

“Rocket attack,” Gary yelled back.