Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

attempt. What if he crashes and you aren’t there?”

“You’d rather I let one of you die despite how unlikely the worst-

case scenario is?”

“Bingo.” Evyn pointed a finger at her. “That’s it in a nutshell. We

have to assume the worst-case scenario every time and act accordingly.

And if you don’t believe that, then you don’t belong in your job.”

“I guess you’re going to decide that, aren’t you?”

“Not all by myself,” Evyn said, her voice losing its faintly teasing

edge. “You admitted yourself, you’re an academic—and it isn’t a

classroom out there.”

“That’s what this is really all about.” Wes took a slow breath. “You

don’t think I should have this job, do you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Peter Chang would be your choice.”

Evyn colored. “Not my call. That doesn’t figure in the equation

and never did.”

“If the medical team feels the same way, it’s a problem. I can’t

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allow such a vital unit to be destabilized due to politics and personal

loyalties.”

“Look, those people are all military. They’ll follow orders.” Evyn

sighed. “We’re on the same side here, Wes. I just need to know you

have a clear idea of what the game looks like before you get to play.”

“Fair enough.” Wes couldn’t argue against being prepared. Evyn

held all the cards, and for the most part, she agreed with Evyn’s call.

“What’s in store for the next inning?”

Evyn just smiled and shook her head.

v

Evyn shrugged into her windbreaker, grabbed her go bag, and

headed out. She thought about stopping by Wes’s office but vetoed the

idea immediately. Her job was to see Wes got a crash course in the

way PPD operated, and she wasn’t about to apologize for the way she

did it. If Wes was pissed about the way the sim had gone down—well,

she’d just have to stay pissed. Not like they had to be best friends or

anything.

“Evyn!”

Evyn spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. Speaking of

friends. “Hey, Pete! You’re back!”

“Yep.” Pete wore a bulky down parka, and his straight black hair

was covered by a dark watch cap. He pulled off his cap and ran slender

fingers through his hair. “I picked a good time to take a few days’

leave.”

“Yeah—you missed the worst of the storm. You working

tonight?”

He nodded. “Anything happening?”

“No, it’s been quiet. Emily is shift leader tonight. She’ll fill you in,

but he’s not scheduled for anything.”

“Good. I could use a little time to catch up on paperwork.” He

looked around and moved closer. “How’s the new chief settling in?”

Evyn thought about Wes leaning against the lockers while she

dressed, and the way Wes’s gaze occasionally glided over her body.

She liked the direct way Wes had looked at her, as if she’d appreciated

what she saw and wasn’t going to hide the fact. There’d been nothing

flirtatious or suggestive in Wes’s behavior, but Wes had noticed her,

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and remembering the flicker of heat in Wes’s eyes made Evyn’s nipples

harden. Glad to be wearing a coat, she said casually, “A little soon to

tell. She’s got the creds for the job.”

“I know,” Pete said. “I met her briefly at the wedding. She seems

nice enough.”

Nice. That wasn’t exactly the word she would use to describe Wes

Masters. Intense, focused, honest, uncompromising. She supposed those

things made Wes nice, but they also made her incredibly attractive. And

if that wasn’t enough, she was gorgeous. The morning’s fantasy popped

back into her head. Okay—kill that picture right now. “How do you feel

about her getting the job?”

Pete shrugged. “I don’t mind not having to deal with the

politics.”

“That’s very political of you.” Evyn nudged his shoulder with

hers. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll just see how it works out.”

“Yeah. I guess we will.” Evyn waved good-bye and pushed out

into the flat gray afternoon. As much as she liked Pete, she didn’t want

to see Wes fail. Right now, what she really wanted was to see Wes

again. When she was around her, she felt electrified. All of her senses

were so charged, she thought she might start humming. She hadn’t been

this keyed up during the night she’d spent with Louise. That had her

worried. Whatever the strange effect Wes had on her, it was something

she’d never experienced before. Reason enough to keep a safe distance.

Fantasies, though, were harmless.

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chapter fifteen

Lucinda dropped her pen on her desk as the door from the Oval

Office opened and Andrew walked in, a little after eight a.m.

She stood. “Mr. President. I—”

Andrew closed the door. “I’m alone, Luce. Don’t get up.”

Lucinda came around the front of her desk and gestured to the

chairs on her way to the coffee credenza. “I thought you were in a

budget meeting.”

“I was, but we’re not going to move on anything at this point.

Richard wants to wait until after the Iowa caucuses. He thinks we may

have more support than the numbers are showing right now.”

“Well, Richard is the campaign manager and he knows numbers,”

Lucinda said, pouring them each a cup of coffee. She handed one to

Andrew. “I think as soon as Russo starts showing his true colors, we’ll

see a huge swing from the independents in our direction.”

“That would be the best-case scenario,” Andrew said, accepting

the cup as he leaned back in the chair, balancing the saucer on his knee.

“Blair called this morning.”

“Ah,” Lucinda said, sitting beside him. “I briefed Cameron on the

situation.”

“Mmm, I gathered. Blair was a bit peeved she hadn’t been read

in.” Lucinda smiled and sipped the coffee. “Just a little bit peeved?

She is mellowing.”

Andrew laughed. “I don’t think I’d use that word, but she’s

beginning to accept some of the politics.”

“Do you think that’s age, or is she just bowing to the inevitable?”

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“Blair?” Andrew smiled, his voice warming. “You’ve known her

all her life. Do you think she’ll ever bow to anything?”

Lucinda pictured the wild teenager, and the angry young woman

of just a few years ago, and the incredible, strong, focused adult Blair

had become. “No, she will always take things by the throat. It’s one of

the things I love about her.”

“Me too,” Andrew said softly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to

you about.”

Lucinda set her coffee cup on the edge of her desk and turned to

face him fully. He was still as handsome as he had been when she’d

joined him during his race for the governor’s mansion almost two

decades before. Clear-eyed and strong, with an inner kindness that had

not been blunted by politics. “What’s worrying you?”

“I tried to talk her out of coming along.”

“I thought you might. I take it she disagreed?”

“Vociferously.” Andrew sighed and loosened his tie. “I couldn’t

deny that her presence has always made a difference in my election

campaigns. The public loves her, and she grabs the attention of the

younger voters. They rally around her because she’s so smart and strong

and doesn’t care who knows how she feels.”

“She’s her father’s daughter in that.”

“No small amount of that comes from you.”

“And her mother,” Lucinda said softly.

“Yes. And her mother.”

“Blair won’t run from danger, and unless we change our plans

to bring Cameron inside, there’s no way we’ll convince Blair to stay

home.”

“We could do this without Cam,” Andrew said. “I’m not happy

about involving her either.”

“Andrew,” Lucinda said, “Cam is the perfect person to investigate

the source of these leaks. She has no political affiliations, other than

her loyalty to you. We can trust her completely. And she’s very, very

good.”“Jensen briefed me this morning. Although the threat level remains

unchanged, the soft intel we’re getting shows a heightened probability

for hostile action.”

Anxiety squeezed Lucinda’s throat, but she kept her voice even.

They’d faced the worst together—his wife’s death, attempts on Blair’s

life, threats against the nation abroad and at home. She would never

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let her fear for him show. “All the more reason to start looking hard at

those around you.”

He stretched his arm out between their chairs and she took his

hand, closing her fingers around his broad, strong palm. He squeezed

gently.“I knew you’d say that,” Andrew said. “And I know you’re right.

I know you’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”

“Blair will be safe,” Lucinda said firmly. No matter what she had to

do, she would see that was true. “And so will you. You just concentrate

on winning this election.”

The president laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

v

A tap sounded on Wes’s partially open office door and she clicked

closed the autopsy report on Len O’Shaughnessy. “Yes?”

The door swung open and Peter Chang appeared in the doorway.

She knew from the duty roster he’d been on the night before. She also

knew from her early-morning review of the night’s logs there’d been

no major emergencies. One of the chefs had sliced his hand and needed

stitches, a delivery man was evaluated for a wrenched shoulder, and a

staffer in the press room had come down for something to help with her

stomach flu and learned she was pregnant.

“Commander, come in,” Wes said.

“I just wanted to say hello,” Peter said. “If you’re busy, I don’t

want to interrupt.”

“Just trying to get a handle on the operation. Have a seat.”

Peter pulled a straight-backed wooden chair from against the

wall in front of her desk and sat down. He was dressed in a tan blazer,

light brown button-down cotton shirt, and khaki pants. His tie was thin

and black with no pattern. Conservative. As close to a uniform as he

could get without wearing one. Wes sympathized. She felt vaguely

uncomfortable working out of uniform, especially when she passed

military personnel and officers from the Uniformed Division of the

Secret Service at every junction. Without the symbols of her rank that

had come to define her, she felt displaced, a lot like she did in this

strangely skewed new medical terrain.

“Anything I can help you with?” Peter said.

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“You can tell me if you think there are any protocols that need

updating or reviewing.”

He shifted ever so slightly in his seat, a tell indicating her question

had caught him off guard and made him a little uneasy. She couldn’t

imagine why the question would make him uncomfortable, but her

radar pinged—something was off.

“I can’t think of anything,” Peter finally said. “I know Len—Dr.

O’Shaughnessy—reviewed everything himself. Once in a while he’d

update some of the pharmaceuticals used in emergency protocols, but

he pretty much left the management of acute problems up to the team

handling the presenting problem.”

“So the same injury or medical condition might receive different

treatment depending on which team handled it?”

Peter shifted again. “Well, management is pretty standard, so I

don’t think anyone really deviated much.”

“How often does the team get together—for debriefings or case

review?”

“Our schedules can be pretty irregular—we’re not usually all

around at the same time. For Len—well, you now—especially. When

the president is traveling, Len almost always accompanied him, which

might mean he was detached to the president for weeks at a time.”

“Meaning there wasn’t really any unit Q&A.”

Peter hesitated. “Not per se, no.”

“Okay, thanks. That’s helpful.” Wes could see right away that her

idea of running a unit was completely different than the laissez-faire

attitude of her predecessor, and probably his before him. No one would

conceive of running an emergency room without standardized protocols

that everyone adhered to, departmental review of case outcomes, and

regular morbidity and mortality conferences. And yet this unit, which

not only cared for some of the most important individuals in the world,

but several hundred high-level staff and countless visitors, had only the

barest degree of internal organization or accountability. She planned

to change that and doubted anyone would be too happy about it. She

leaned forward on her desk and folded her hands. “Anything else you

think I should know?”

“No,” Peter said quickly. “It’s all standard stuff.”

“Yes, well, I gather that around here, standard means pretty much

a constant state of readiness.”

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“I guess that’s true.” He kneaded his jacket between his hands.

“Like most things, there’s a whole lot of preparing for situations that

never happen.”

“Let’s hope that continues to be the case.” Wes stood. “I should

have a new rotation schedule available for everyone in approximately

a week. Until then, everyone should continue with the rotations as

previously posted. If I’m needed at any time, my pager is listed with

the operators. I left my cell phone number on the board in the clinic

AOD office last night. Otherwise, carry on.”

He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

She returned the salute. “Not necessary in private.”

“Hard habit to break.”

She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Peter disappeared into the hall, and Wes sat back down behind her

desk. He didn’t seem to harbor any resentment, at least not outwardly.