Oath of Honor

I’m great. The sex was great—I don’t guess I need to say that.”

Wes zipped up, not bothering to button her shirt. Evyn looked

spooked. Uneasy. Almost battle shocked. “Why don’t you sit down? I

really will make some coffee.”

“I need to go. It’s late.”

“Evyn, I’m not asking—”

“You don’t get it, Wes.” Evyn shook her head. “I don’t do

serious.”

“Okay,” Wes said, the familiar ache settling behind her breastbone.

“Is that what this was? Serious?”

“I don’t know what this was,” Evyn shouted. She pushed her hand

through her hair, wanted to pull it out. Wanted some real pain to block

the awful dread in the pit of her stomach. “No, that’s a fucking lie. This

was amazing. You’re beautiful, sexy as fucking hell. And you make me

crazy. I can’t afford to be crazy.”

“Tonight was my fault,” Wes said.

“The hell it was,” Evyn said sharply. “There’s no fault here, okay?

It was just…I don’t know—hormones. Pheromones. Something. God, I

can’t be anywhere around you without wanting you.”

“Which I take is a bad thing?”

“I’m sorry.” Evyn looked around the room as if she had never seen

it before. Her gaze settled on Wes’s face. “You deserve a lot better than

this—” She waved at the door. “More than a fast fuck.”

Wes swallowed the pain. She didn’t beg. Ever. Not for anyone or

anything. “Look, let’s not make this an issue, okay? We’re adults, we

acted on instinct, we both wanted a fast fuck, as you say. Now it’s done.

We’re over it—we move on.”

Anger flared in Evyn’s eyes and Wes nearly buckled under a wave

of need. She wanted Evyn naked. She wanted to be inside her. Evyn

made her want things, things she’d never thought she needed, things

Evyn didn’t want or need from her. “If you’re sure you don’t want

coffee…”

“No, I’m good,” Evyn said.

“Okay then.” Wes turned away, busied herself getting Evyn’s coat,

settled herself. “You’re okay to drive?”

• 224 •

Oath Of hOnOr

Evyn took her jacket. “I’m fine.”

“Good night then.” Wes opened the door.

“’Night,” Evyn said softly and slipped by without touching her.

Wes turned out the light and walked to the window where her

mother thought she should put a plant. Evyn was a dark shadow

disappearing down the street. Now she knew. Being alone with Evyn

Daniels was dangerous. She understood just how dangerous now and

wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

v

Lucinda answered her phone on the first ring. “Washburn.”

“I thought you might still be in your office,” Cam said.

“We’re two days from Christmas Eve—busy time around here.”

“I know. You got a minute?”

“Where are you?”

“Outside the door.”

“Come in.” Lucinda replaced the phone and got up. A muscle in

her back reminded her she’d been sitting too long. She rubbed it quickly.

Cam walked in, closed the door. She wore jeans and a black crew neck

sweater—unusually casual for her. Cam looked tired—her eyes were

clear, but dark circles shadowed her cheeks. Her always carved features

looked sharper, knife edged, and Lucinda realized she was seeing Cam

on the hunt.

“Sorry to show up unannounced, but I didn’t think this could

wait,” Cam said.

“You have something?” Lucinda asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Lucinda’s breath caught on a wave of excitement. They’d all

been casting in the dark for weeks, too many bits and pieces, too many

fragments of facts and non-facts to shape into a coherent pattern.

Directionless in the face of unseen enemies, she was left impotent and,

deep inside, afraid. She couldn’t afford to be afraid. Andrew refused to

be intimidated, to be deterred, and she needed a clear head and clearer

vision to see that he was safe. “Tell me.”

“I’ve requested field reports on anything that might remotely

be connected to a potential attack and run probability algorithms on

• 225 •

RADCLYfFE

everything I can think of,” Cam said. “Another aerial assault, dirty

bombs, a lone gunman, a group attack.”

The matter-of-fact tone in her voice chilled Lucinda to the core.

“As has Averill, I’m sure.”

“Right. And neither of us hit on anything with greater than random

probability.” Cam paced to the windows overlooking the gardens. Her

face in the cast-off glow of the walkway lights was marble smooth

and stone hard. “So I started looking at everyone who surfaced in

connection to suspicious events. I’ve got a flimsy…” She laughed and

shook her head. “Whatever is flimsier than flimsy, that’s the connection

I’ve got.”

“Any connection is something more solid than what we have

now.” Lucinda joined Cam by the windows, squeezed her arm. “You

are the best there is. I trust your instincts—I trust you with Blair and

Andrew. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Cam rolled her shoulders, blew out a breath. “One of the

technicians with regular access to a missing biocontagion at a Level

Four lab outside Atlanta is from Idaho. Went to a Christian college

there. So did Lieutenant Jennifer Pattee.”

“So you think they might know each other?” Lucinda struggled to

see a connection.