Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

when someone she thought she could trust was a traitor. Her impotence

stoked her fury. “You don’t know me. A roll in the hay isn’t exactly a

great judge of anything.”

Wes jolted. She didn’t run from reality, she never had, and Evyn

was making their reality very clear. Last night was a physical encounter

and nothing more, and really, why would she think it was anything

more. “So we keep doing our jobs.”

“No reason it can’t be that simple.” Evyn shrugged, relieved to

settle back into her comfortable pattern again. “We aren’t the first two

people to spend the night together and then go back to business as

usual the next day. In fact, around here, it’s more business as usual than

not.”Wes might not have indulged in battlefield trysts, but she knew

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plenty did. Evyn apparently had. “No reason for last night to change

anything.”

“Right.” Evyn quickly turned to switch on the TV. “None at all.”

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chapter twenty-three

Senator Russo received a text in the middle of breakfast. The

alert read HK1. He’d been waiting two days for this update.

Setting his fork aside, he swiped his thumb over the banner alert and

read the five words that sent a swell of satisfaction streaming through

him. The item is in hand. He deleted the message, wiped his mouth

with a pressed linen napkin, and said to his wife, “I’m sorry, my dear,

I need to return this call. The car will be here in half an hour. You’ll be

ready?”

He wasn’t really asking, but his wife seemed to do better with

the stresses of campaigning when she could cling to the trappings of

civility she’d been raised with. She wasn’t fond of public appearances

under the best of circumstances, and even less so now that his speeches

increasingly drew protesters from some liberal leftist group or another.

He’d assured her this was expected when someone with his strength of

conviction and popularity engaged the people and spoke the truth. Her

Southern belle sensibilities would have annoyed him more if her family

name wasn’t helping him to carry the Deep South.

So he played the game she needed, as long as she did as he wanted.

She understood she had to be by his side during these events—he was

running on a family-values platform, and she was the figurehead of his,

naturally. Thus far he’d managed to keep the whole issue of his eldest

daughter’s absence from the campaign trail in the background. Nora had

spun Jac’s history as a war veteran into some very positive press while

simultaneously downplaying her sexual escapades and questionable

choice in partners. Since Jac had made it plain she wouldn’t take part

in his public appearances, that was the best they could do in terms

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of damage control. Fortunately, he had another daughter, a younger,

feminine, wholesome daughter who didn’t have any choice about

participating.

“Yes, of course I’ll be prompt,” his wife said quickly, an altogether

artificial smile failing to erase the anxious shadows in her eyes. “I’m

looking forward to it.”

“Wonderful.” He smiled. “Wear the blue suit. It looks good on

camera. And goes so nicely with your eyes.”

“Thank you,” she said, her attention on her plate. “I will. Yes.”

He strolled toward his study, mentally reviewing his remarks for

the town meeting Nora had scheduled later that morning in Nevada. He

wanted to use the community forum to demonstrate his solidarity with

the American people and distance himself from the recent emphasis by

members of the press on his private wealth. He might live differently

from most Americans, thanks to his wife’s family money, but he was

still one with the people. He unlocked his study door and walked in,

pleased with the way things were going for the moment.

Once behind his desk, he unlocked another drawer, removed a

disposable cell phone, and called Hooker. “I got your message. No

problems, I take it?”

“I made the exchange for the amount we agreed upon. I’ll have it

tomorrow. None too soon either.”

“You’re certain of its authenticity?”

“As certain as I can be,” Hooker said. “It’s not like I’m an expert

on this sort of thing. I’m mostly the courier here.”

“Courier or not, I’ll hold you responsible for any malfunction.”

“You’re not the one who’ll be sitting with this stuff in his

refrigerator. It gives me the creeps,” Hooker snapped. “You hired me to

broker the deal and run interference between the players. I fulfilled my

contract. Once this is out of my hands, I’m done.”

Russo clamped down on his temper. As insubordinate as Hooker

could be, he had excellent contacts, he got the job done, and he was as

trustworthy as any man in his profession. The election campaign was

just getting started, and he’d need Hooker’s services again. “You’re

right, of course. What news do you have from DC?”

“Not much. So far the transition hasn’t been a problem.”

Russo grunted, irritated by the unexpected speed with which the

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usually slow White House bureaucracy had replaced the WHMU chief.

“The inevitable disruption may work to our favor.”

“If we move fast.”

“Then by all means, let’s move forward.” Russo glanced at his

desk calendar. December was more than half over. Soon the holidays

would be in full swing. “You have his itinerary?”

“Updated as of this morning.”

Russo smiled. “We might want to advance the timetable.”

“I just need time to brief the deliveryman.”

“Very good. I’ll be in touch. And nice work.” Russo disconnected

and locked the phone back in his desk. His plan was bold and some

would say extreme, but they lived in extreme times. The American

people had become complacent, with economic woes taking center

stage in the public’s awareness and fading memories of a terrorist attack

smothering patriotism. The public needed a wake-up call, and nothing

stirred national fervor like an attack at home. The time was ripe for the

right leader to lead them on the path to moral redemption and renewed

power. He was ready.

v

“Please fasten your seat belts, we’re beginning our descent into

Washington Reagan National Airport,” the flight attendant announced.

“Hey,” Evyn said softly. “Wes, we’re landing.”

Fuzzy-headed, Wes opened her eyes and concentrated on orienting

herself. Airplane. Cramp in her shoulder. Her cheek on Evyn’s shoulder.

She pushed up quickly. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. You went out fast as soon as we were airborne. You

needed the rest.”

“I slept most of the morning.” Evyn had booked them a late

afternoon flight, and after they’d taken turns showering, Wes had fallen

asleep watching CNN. She’d awakened after noon on top of the bed with

a blanket over her. Evyn had covered her while she slept. Remembering

that small gesture made her shift in her seat until their bodies no longer

touched. She wasn’t used to relying on anyone, and discovering she

liked the feeling of being cared for wasn’t entirely welcome. Especially

when the caring came from Evyn.

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“How are you feeling?” Evyn asked.

“A little stiff,” Wes said, stretching out in the cramped space. She

didn’t want Evyn to worry—or to think she needed looking after. Evyn

had done enough. “I’m okay. I think the downtime this morning really

helped.”

“You were shivering this morning—still chilled?”

Wes couldn’t answer that question. Physically, she felt warmer—

the pervasive cold that had lingered in her body long after Evyn had

pulled her out of the ocean had finally disappeared, but a glacial

throbbing had taken up residence in the center of her being. She ached

inside in a way she never had, even when she’d been a child uncertain

of the future, even when she’d been physically and psychologically

depleted after weeks in the desert. The closer they came to DC—the

nearer the moment when she and Evyn would go back to being only

professional colleagues—the more pervasive the sense of loss. She

didn’t regret the decision. They couldn’t work together and be anything

more than colleagues, even if they’d wanted to be more. And Evyn had

made it clear what they’d shared had been an isolated occurrence.

Wes had made hard decisions all her life and accepted the

consequences, even when they hurt. Pain wasn’t deadly—even though

this hurt as much as anything she’d ever experienced. “Thanks for

handling everything. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t.” Evyn’s voice shook. “I wanted to do everything

I did—including last night. You know that, don’t you?”

Wes covered Evyn’s hand where it rested on the armrest between

them. “How could I not know? You speak beautifully with your

body.”Evyn caught her breath. “You always surprise me in the most

amazing ways. No one has ever said anything as wonderful to me

before.”

“Then they weren’t paying attention.” Wes smiled, steadfastly

refusing to think of the other women Evyn had known. Jealousy was

a foreign sensation and, rationally, totally unfounded. Irrational or

not, she still didn’t want to imagine anyone touching her. She seemed

to have lost the ability to reason when she’d first become aware of

wanting to kiss her.

“Maybe I was the one not paying attention.” Evyn searched her

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memory for a time she’d felt this connected—and feared it so much. She

gripped Wes’s hand. The lights of DC came into view. A wave of panic

slid over her—she couldn’t help feeling as if they were running out of

time, as if she was about to lose something vital without even knowing

it. “Wes—I don’t want you to think last night wasn’t special.”

“I don’t think that. Why would I?”

“I know you must think I do that sort of thi—”

“Whoa—hey. What I think is that we both wanted last night to

happen.”

Wes’s hand was so warm, so damn perfect in hers. Evyn wanted

to reverse the clock—start the last few days over. She wanted to keep

Wes safe, she wanted to take her out to dinner when they weren’t both

exhausted, she wanted to make love with her when they weren’t hurt or

displaced or scared of losing their fragile connection. Hell. She wanted

to date her, maybe more—something she hadn’t wanted with anyone,

possibly ever. “I think I fucked this up.”

“No, you didn’t,” Wes said. “You gave me everything I needed.”

The lights of the tower flashed red across the sky. The runway

lights glowed brighter by the second. Another minute and they’d be on

the ground. Evyn willed time to slow. She needed a little more time—