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.”
“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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RADCLY fFE
“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.
He did seem uneasy, though, but that might just be because he didn’t
know her, and she had taken the job that presumably he had wanted.
Or maybe she was reading too much into the situation because Evyn
thought Chang deserved the job and not her. Evyn.
She hadn’t thought about her while she was working, but every
time she stopped, snippets of their conversations would start up again
in her mind. Along with that split second of gut-wrenching horror when
she’d thought Evyn was mortally wounded. Evyn was so certain of
what should be done and why. In order to do Evyn’s job, that kind
of mindset was probably necessary. She understood. She even agreed,
while another part of her mind questioned.
All Wes could hope was that her orders never conflicted with
her training, but ultimately, she would follow orders, regardless of the
consequen
ces to others. Even Evyn. She shied away from the idea of
leaving Evyn wounded, without the care that might potentially save
her life. She thought of Evyn’s body fresh from the shower—sleek
and smooth and strong. Beautiful. She was trained to read a person’s
body with her hands—to feel the presence of injury and disease in the
disruption of the pattern of skin and muscle and bone. She experienced
the world through her senses, and Evyn filled her senses. The whisper
of Evyn’s skin beneath her fingers that day in the ambulance left her
wanting more. Seeing Evyn naked after her shower, she’d ached to trace
the tantalizing curve along the edge of Evyn’s shoulder blade down the
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Oath Of hOnOr
slope of her back to the hollow above her hips. She’d imagined heat
and supple—
“Captain?”
Wes jerked and looked across the room. Jennifer stood in the
doorway, a half smile on her face. Her hair was down, a luxurious
sweep of soft midnight waves. Today she wore forest-green pants and a
V-neck sweater in a lighter shade of green. Low brown boots completed
the outfit. Her figure was small but full, perfectly proportioned.
“Something I can help you with, Lieutenant?”
“A few of us are going out to eat at the end of shift. Would you
like to come?”
Wes quickly considered the advisability of fraternizing with her
new team. If she didn’t go out with them, she might appear standoffish.
If she did, she wouldn’t know the players or the power structure. She
didn’t usually fraternize with colleagues, and socializing with team
members before she’d taken firm command wasn’t a good idea. And
there was the glint of interest in Jennifer’s eyes, no small matter. Wes
had thought she’d noticed it the first time they’d met, and now she
was sure of it. Jennifer’s invitation might be a little bit more than unit
camaraderie.
“Thanks, I’d like to, but I can’t tonight,” Wes said. “I’ve got a
million things to review, and I’m still finding my way around this
place.”
“I understand,” Jennifer said, disappointment clear in her voice.
“Some other time, then?”
Wes smiled. “Yes. Definitely.”
“Good. I’ll let you get back to work.” Jennifer backed up. “If you
need help with the files—”
“I’ve got it for now. Thanks.”
“See you then.”
Jennifer turned and left, leaving Wes alone with charts and
protocols, the stuff of her life she knew well—and thoughts of Evyn
Daniels, something new and entirely different.
v
The round white clock hanging behind the red Formica-topped
counter sported a dented chrome rim resembling a hubcap and a faded
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RADCLY fFE
Harley symbol in the center. The black hands shaped like handlebars
read six forty. Hooker’s contact was ten minutes late.
He looked around the roadside diner, studying the faces. At six
thirty on a weeknight, the place was nearly empty. The locals, mostly
farmers, ate early, and the truckers wouldn’t start arriving until midnight.
The militia go-between who’d arranged the meet hadn’t given him any
info other than the location—he’d said the contact was spooked about
dealing with an “outsider.”
Who the hell knew what a bio-disposal technician looked like?
Two guys in oil-stained work pants and denim shirts with the sleeves
cut off midway up tattooed biceps sat at the counter slurping coffee and
uttering occasional monosyllables while working through enormous
steaks and mounds of potatoes. A young woman, barely in her twenties
if that, slouched in a booth with a glass of tea and a red-and-white
cardboard boat of fries slathered in cheese. She ate slowly, making each
fry last three bites, as if the food might be her last for a while. Probably
a runaway—her face was worn with fatigue, but her eyes were too
focused for her to be a junkie. Two men in white open-collared shirts
and dress pants occupied another booth—probably businessmen on the
road. No one paid any attention to him. He finished his coffee, slid two
bills on the counter, and walked outside.
The Georgia heat slapped him in the face, momentarily taking
his breath away. The change from the biting cold in Chicago was
disorienting. Like the diner, the gravel lot was mostly empty. A few
cars clustered around the far corner of the restaurant, where someone
sold ice cream from an open window. Several people, mostly women,
stood in line with children in tow. No one paid any attention to him.
He’d come all this way for nothing.
As he walked to his car, he glanced into the small grassy lot on
the far side of the building. A brunette in a floral sundress and strappy
sandals sat under a tree at a picnic bench, an ice-cream cone in her hand.
She smiled at him, holding his gaze for just a second longer than was
typical for a lone woman who wasn’t a working girl. Hooker walked
over.“Good day for ice cream,” he said.
“They make the best vanilla bean around here. You should try it.”
“Maybe I will. I haven’t had an ice-cream cone in a long time.”
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Oath Of hOnOr
She was early thirties, eyes as black as her hair, small and pretty. Built
too. No wedding ring. In fact, no distinguishing anything—no jewelry,
no flash. Attractive, but not someone who would draw attention.
“Probably too cold up north for ice cream,” she remarked, catching
a line of vanilla dripping down the side of the cone.
The quick flick of her tongue caught him by surprise and his cock
got hard. He shifted slightly to hide the fullness in his trousers. “You
got that right. I guess this doesn’t feel hot to you, though, does it?”
“No—this is the best weather of the year.” She smiled. “Sit down,
unless there’s somewhere you have to be in a hurry.”
“Not really.”
“Just get in?”
“That’s right.”
“Here on business?”
He nodded.
“What is it that you do?”
“I buy and sell things,” he said.
“I imagine you find all sorts of interesting things.”
“You never know what you might come across.”
“You’re right. Sometimes things turn up you never expect.” She
bit into the cone and a fleck lingered on her lip.
He had the urge to suck it off. He spread his legs a little wider to
give himself a little relief. Something about this woman had him juiced
up, and that was unusual. He had no trouble enjoying himself with a
woman when he wanted, but when he was on the job, he rarely got
distracted. “I’m always on the lookout for unusual items.”
“I might have something you’re interested in. If you’re looking for
one-of-a-kind items.”
“Really? Rare items are at the top of my list.”
“Those things tend to be expensive, though.”
“I never mind paying what something’s worth.”
“And then there’s tran
sportation, the authentication, all of those
things figure in, don’t they?” She crossed her legs, her sandal dangling
from her toes. “What would you pay for something no one else could
find, delivered in perfect condition? Something rare, unusual.”
“Fully functional, one-of-a-kind?” Hooker leaned his arms back
on the table and crossed his ankles, taking in the vehicles parked in
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RADCLY fFE
the lot. None were close enough for audible scanning, and he didn’t
think their conversation could be picked up from the building. If she
was wearing a wire, it was well hidden. Her clothes were tight enough
that hiding the receiver would be difficult. Nothing he’d said could be
incriminating, but he still needed to be careful. “I’m used to paying for
the right product. Half a million isn’t out of range.”
She took another bite of her ice-cream cone. “Two.”
“The item would have to be extraordinarily rare, in perfect
condition, and, in order to avoid the competition trying to duplicate it,
completely untraceable.”
“Guaranteed.”
“Then I think we can do business.”
She smiled, her gaze slowly moving over his chest and down his
body. He couldn’t hide his erection and didn’t bother.
“Now that I’ve had dessert,” she said, “I’m ready for dinner. How
about you?”
“My evening is free.”
“Not anymore.”
• 126 •
Oath Of hOnOr
chapter sixteen
The phone rang at 0530 and Wes grabbed it before the second
ring. “Hello?”
“We’ll pick you up in half an hour,” Evyn said. “Pack a go bag and
wear field clothes.”
“What would that be when I’m not wearing a uniform?”
Evyn laughed. “How about jeans and a shirt? And a light jacket.
Oh—and pack for overnight.”
“Doable. Anything else I should know?”
“Now, Doc,” Evyn said, a teasing note in her voice. “Haven’t you
figured out the routine yet?”
“I’m ever hopeful.”
“Good attitude. See you in thirty.”
Evyn rang off and Wes hung up the phone. She’d been up for an
hour, reading through some of the WHMU protocols she’d downloaded
to a thumb drive and brought back to the hotel with her. She’d worked
all evening and finally turned in at 0200—and couldn’t sleep. She didn’t
usually have trouble sleeping, but she’d lain awake in the dark feeling