Faithful Service, Silent Hearts

by Lynette Mae

Disclaimer: The following story is an original work. It’s a story of awakening, young love and the power of the human spirit. The story unapologetically contains erotic lesbian sex, so if that bothers you, then don’t read it.

Devon James is a young military intelligence officer learning that finding love under any circumstances is difficult. But when your love is expressly forbidden by regulations and you are pursued by a relentless zealot, it can seem impossible. When Devon's assignment takes her to the war torn Middle East in the early days of terrorists targeting Americans, then things really get interesting.

The characters are fictional and any similarity to individuals living or dead is purely coincidental. All military operations and missions portrayed are fictional and the subjects previously declassified. As to my personal interpretation of events? I’ll let you decide what’s real and what is pure imagination.

In all seriousness, this story is dedicated to all the brave lesbian and gay members of the U.S. military who sadly, must still serve silently.

Feedback welcome at: lkb533@verizon.net

Chapter One

March 1982

A dismally cold drizzle beat a steady rhythm on the canvass portable awning above their heads. The taller woman dressed in an immaculately pressed military uniform reached out to grasp her sister's hand, her eyes falling briefly to the swell of her sister's abdomen telegraphing the life growing within. A life for a life. As if hearing her thoughts her sister slid her hand to her round middle.

"

evidence of a life well lived that will be rewarded in heaven

" the priest was speaking.

Evidence? Not usually. Devon was only five, her sister seven and her brother two, when dear old dad walked out the door and never returned, leaving his former high school sweetheart with nothing except three kids, overdue bills and no money. After that, her mom started drinking, smoking, yelling and hitting. Her sister took on the role of protector, doing her best to keep her younger siblings out of the line of fire when mom's wrath escalated into physical assault. Mostly though, the damage inflicted was invisible as the venomous words sliced into their psyches, eating at their confidence from the inside like acid. Even at twenty three years old, words like 'idiot' and 'stupid' stung the ever-raw wounds on her heart like a pound of salt poured on a fresh six inch gash.

"

the blessings of children are our hope for the future

"

Blessings? Devon stared at the grey sky, her thoughts drifting. She doubted that her mother ever thought of her as a blessing. Thunder clapped in the distance reminding Devon of the sharp snap of the leather belt just before punishment was exacted for any number of offenses. Climbing trees and tearing her dress again.

Whack. Playing baseball with the boys and skinning her knee when she knew she was supposed to be playing Barbies inside with the girls. Whack, whack.

Writing Devon + Jean on her notebook outlined with a heart. Bam! That one earned her a split lip and an order to leave as soon as she turned eighteen.

"

W e commend our sister's soul. Lord, bless these children for the loss of their mother and comfort them in their sorrow. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen." The priest concluded, making the sign of the cross over the mahogany casket. Devon and her sister stepped forward to place single red roses in the center of the highly polished wood.

Her sister wiped away tears that streamed down her cheeks and Devon was surprised to feel stinging in her own eyes. What was that about? The reverend approached with a sympathetic expression on his face. "I'm very sorry for your loss, God bless." He said taking each woman's hand in turn. "If there's anything the church or I can do

" He forced a thin smile.

"Thank you, father," Her sister answered. Devon said nothing. What could she talk to him about?

"I'll wait for you at the car," she said almost to herself. She snugged her hat onto her head as she stepped from under the canopy. The rain had finally stopped, the sun intermittently burning through in flashes of light, quickly doused by the fast moving clouds before peaking out again. Devon made her way through the rows of headstones to the waiting limousine, having no inclination to endure the disingenuous words of comfort from the remaining mourners.

She held the rear door of the huge black car open for her sister and brother in law to enter ahead of her before climbing in and closing the door behind them.

Devon stared out the window as they drove in silence. When they pulled up in front of the house, she recalled the last time she had ever tried to talk to her mother about anything that mattered to her. It was the last day of her Christmas break in her senior year in college. Devon was excited about graduating in the spring and had started thinking about the military as a career option. Maybe it was the prospect of having a steady income with the opportunity to travel and see things that she never thought possible growing up on the poor south side of Pittsburgh that attracted her to the idea.

"The Army? You?" Came the acrid response, "This may be your stupidest goddamned idea yet. You won't last a week and then what? W hat kind of job is a History degree gonna get you anyway?" Devon felt herself shrinking under the contemptuous stare, feeling like the small helpless child she once was. "You'll never amount to anything. And by the way, they don't exactly condone being a queer, do they? Just don't think you can come back here when they throw your ass out." W ith that, her mother got up and walked to the liquor cabinet to get the bottle of Seagram's 7.

That response had struck Devon like a slap in the face. It stung in her heart, but she realized now that it also fueled a new certainty inside of her. She remembered looking steadily back into her mother's face and seeing no encouragement whatsoever. She opened her mouth to retort that she had gotten her degree; the last semester was a formality because she already finished all the requirements, but knowing that her mom thought that history was a useless major, she clamped her jaw shut.

At that moment, she told herself that she would go, and she would stick it out, no matter what. The calmness of that decision was soothing to her soul. Many days she wondered if she had made a mistake, but now, she felt only the certainty that she had done exactly the right thing for her life. She wouldn't change a thing.

Now she felt a sense of purpose as though she was beginning to find her place in the world. Professionally at least.

Her sister was speaking. She forced her attention back to the present. "I'm sorry Leigh, what was that?" Somehow they had gotten out of the car and were now standing at the front gate.

"I said you seem different. I can't explain it, but when you got off the plane you were so confident. Yes, that's it." She nodded in affirmation settling the question

in her mind.

Confidence! Imagine that. It was a new and exhilarating feeling to Devon. Devon knew inside that she felt different. Stronger. Not just physically, the military had given her a confidence that she never had before. Her whole life, she felt insecure, like she didn't fit in somehow. Her mother never quite knew how to build confidence in her kids; it was just something they had to learn for themselves. Probably because she lost her own self-worth when the domestic dream she convinced herself she'd been living disintegrated in the cloud of dust kicking up behind the wheels of the sixty-eight GTO as her husband sped out of the driveway for the last time.

Devon stared down at her shoes, wondering why today that new found self-assuredness eluded her, "Well, I wouldn't go overboard," she replied, "I still feel like that lost kid sometimes

" Her voice trailed off.

"W ell, you have done things no one in our family has ever done. You're the first college graduate, and now," her fingers trailed over the ribbons on Devon's chest,

"my shy little sister is an Army officer."

They walked inside the house that they had spent nearly their entire lives in. All the old furnishings and her mother's collection of cheap glass trinkets were exactly where Devon remembered. Devon thought she should feel some pangs of emotion, maybe the urge to find just the right memento to remind her of her childhood. Strangely, the air in the house felt suffocating. She felt nothing but a desire to run back to the new life she was building. Her life.

"You can go through the house and pick out anything you want, Dev." Her sister was saying.

"No. You can have everything. Keep it. Sell it. Whatever, Leigh." Devon said without emotion. She would stay long enough to help her sister pack up the house and not a day longer. She loved her sister more than anyone in the world, but something was missing inside Devon and she knew without a doubt whatever it was she wasn't going to find it here.

Her company commander told her to take her time returning, she could take the next airborne school if she didn't make it back in time. Devon didn't want to wait.

She had a plan. Completing Officer Candidate School was a huge accomplishment. Very few enlisted people were offered the opportunity to become officers.

Airborne training was not common for women and would make an impressive addition to her resume. The upcoming intelligence school in Boston was only offered to the top percentile of each class. The life she dreamed of was within her reach.

Three days later she boarded the military transport plane bound for Airborne school at Ft. Benning, Georgia, eager to put the past behind her and embrace her wide open future.

Chapter 2

September, near Boston, MA

Lieutenant Devon James stepped through the double doors into the officer's barracks. Removing her beret as she entered, she stuffed it into the side pocket of the left leg of her camouflage pants. A loaded duffle bag was balanced on her right shoulder and a manila envelope containing her orders tucked under her arm.

"Excuse me," she addressed the young private seated at the desk, who had been staring at a TV screen.

Recognizing the lieutenant's bars on her collar the private bolted from his chair, immediately snapping to attention, "Yes ma'am!" it came out as a sharp cry.

"Relax soldier," she said easily, dropping her bag to the floor in front of her. Devon was still unaccustomed to the rank structure that required enlisted personnel to jump into a rigid pose and salute. In her mind she was still just like them. He saw the kindness in her eyes and forced himself to stand easy.

Devon slid a copy of her orders across the desk to him, "Can that log tell you where I'll be bunking?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'll get that for you."

Devon eyed her new surroundings; typical military standard drab décor. She sighed as she leaned forward on the counter, running a hand through her hair, realizing for the first time just how tired she was. A quick check of her watch confirmed the reason. 2015 hours. Her marathon day had begun at 0430 with a ride to the airport on a cramped shuttle, followed by several flight delays and an unscheduled stop to transfer planes in D.C. Consequently, she arrived in Boston four hours late. Her eyes burned and she rubbed them with her thumb and forefinger wishing this kid would hurry up so that she could finally get some rest.

When the helpful young man turned back to the lieutenant, her eyes were closed, so he allowed himself an appreciative gaze at her. The gold lieutenant's bars were subdued and stitched into her collar, usually indicating some kind of tactical training. The butter bar lieutenants right out of OCS always wore the flashy pin-on rank insignias. His eyes flipped to her right chest and shoulder area and sure enough found the airborne wings and ranger sleeve patch.

He noted her tan muscular forearms that extended beyond the rolled up uniform sleeves. She had a simple beauty to her long angular face. Her hair, although somewhat disheveled from her hands raking through it, still maintained a professional appearance. W hen the piercing blue eyes popped open he blushed and looked away.

Not noticing his reaction, Devon asked, "Did you find it, private?"

"Yes, ma'am," he stammered, "you will be in room 214, with Lieutenant Gray." He moved around to the front of the counter to grab her bag.

"I've got it," she placed a hand on his arm to stop his advance.

"If you're sure, ma'am," he looked uncertain.

"I am. Thank you." W ith that, she slung the duffle bag back onto her shoulder and headed for the stairs.

Once on the second floor, Devon found her assigned room was at the center of the hall, and unlike the other rooms, the doorways to it and the next room faced inward, toward each other. She stopped momentarily at the closed door, aware that the room may be occupied. The white card to the right of the door read, '1LT

J. Gray', below that was a blank line, where she presumed her name would now be added.

To be polite, she knocked softly and paused. Hearing nothing, she leaned forward to insert the key into the lock. The door suddenly swung open, causing Devon to lose her balance and nearly tumble into the room. A strong hand grabbed her firmly by the arm preventing the inevitable embarrassment that would have ensued. That was a graceful entrance, knucklehead.

"W hoa, you okay, there?" the voice was a buttery smooth southern drawl. Devon glanced up somewhat flustered, pulling her arm away quickly, probably too quickly. It was more of a jerk that Devon instantly thought must have seemed rude.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, unable to hide the frustration in her voice.

"Okay," the other woman dragged out the word, backing up a couple of steps and raising her hands in the air, "Sorry."

Devon forced a smile to hide her embarrassment. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry," She knew she had made a tactical error in her curt response; after all, this woman did outrank her. Her eyes unconsciously moved to the silver bars on the other woman's collar that trumped the gold ones on her own.

"Ma'am?" the accent drew the word out making it seem much longer than one syllable painted with sarcasm. "How 'bout you grab your bag and come back in and we'll start this all over again?"

Devon nodded, still feeling off balance, but relieved that the LT didn't seem to take offense to her brusque behavior. She retrieved her bag from the hall and dropped it beside the empty bottom bunk, while her roommate closed the door. Upon turning around, Devon was pleased to see a warm smile and outstretched hand advancing across the room.

"Hello," a bright smile complimented the melodic tone of her voice, "I'm Jillian Gray, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

Her soft brown eyes sparkled with flecks of gold as they met Devon's with a welcoming look. She had thick auburn hair with matching golden highlights cut just above shoulder length that framed an even featured face. She stood about an inch taller than the blonde. Devon took her hand, delighted by the firmness of her grip and captivated by the depths of her warm brown eyes.

"Devon James," She smiled widely in response. Her gaze drifted to the expressive mouth, feeling a strange heat spread through her from the point of contact with Jillian's hand.

"My pleasure, Devon. W elcome." Jillian realized she was still holding Devon's hand and quickly released it. She indicated the chest of drawers on the other side of the room, "That one is empty, if you want to unpack."

"Thanks, I want to get out of these boots," Devon replied. Devon changed out of her uniform into a grey sleeveless t-shirt, with ARMY printed in dark green block letters across the chest, and a pair of dark green drawstring shorts. The women engaged in light conversation as she unpacked her bag and made up her bunk.

Jillian explained that she was in her second month of school, a class ahead of the one Devon was about to start.

"Did you get a chance to eat today?" Jillian rose to move toward the refrigerator, "I don't have much, but would a sandwich do?" She pulled two beers off the door, holding one out to Devon.

"Thanks," popping the top, she took a long drink, savoring the taste as the cold beverage went down easily. "I grabbed a bite on the way here, so I'm good."

"So, where are you from?" Jillian asked.

"I grew up in Pennsylvania; my sister still lives there," the junior lieutenant responded, taking another long pull on the beer. "And by the sound of that accent of yours

I'm guessing Tennessee, Kentucky maybe?" she raised an eyebrow and gave Jillian another quick flash of her bright smile.

"You're right! Kentucky. How'd you know that?" Her eyes sparkled as she returned Devon's smile.

"I had a friend in basic training that had the same accent, so I figured." She shrugged.

Jillian was struck by the simple explanation because what it meant was that this woman was someone who actually listens. No doubt she had probably plenty of time to talk with another recruit in three months of basic training, but she had only been here a couple hours and was able to discern the dialect. She had a good ear. Clearly, if she had been selected for this training, her test scores were in the top 5 percentile of the candidates. Attentive and intelligent.

For the first time, she really looked at the new lieutenant. Her five foot ten frame was tightly sculpted muscle, her face beautifully handsome and that thick, wavy blond hair just begged to have fingers run through it. When Devon looked deliberately back at her, meeting her stare openly with achingly beautiful ice blue eyes, Jillian was suddenly flushed and cleared her throat.

"W ell, I guess you must be exhausted from your long day," she managed.

Devon looked at her watch, surprised to see that it was past midnight. She couldn't remember the last time she had lost track of time, really enjoying a simple conversation, particularly with someone she hardly knew. She wasn't used to letting her guard down with strangers and she wondered why tonight was different.

During her entire life, she had only had one really close friend, and with the exception of her sister, she pretty much kept to herself. But, hitting it off with Jillian was definitely a good thing because they would be sharing this space for maybe six months, and Devon was happy that they seemed to be compatible.

"Yeah, you're right, it has been a long day," she agreed. Devon stood up and felt her fatigue in every muscle. She grabbed her toothbrush, soap and a towel, heading for the bathroom.

A short time later, they killed the lights and the newcomer was asleep nearly as soon as her head hit the pillow. Jillian lay on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling, smiling as she replayed the evening in her mind. She pictured the attractive blonde who occupied the bed below her, feeling a warm comfort inside that she couldn't explain. Maybe it was the cute way she had fallen into the room when she arrived, or the easy conversation and the way she listened so intently, or maybe it was those excruciatingly beautiful blue eyes

Jesus. You really need to get laid this weekend. Jillian decided it was best not to read too much into a first meeting, better still not to lust after the new lieutenant, even though she was drop dead gorgeous.

#

First Lieutenant Jillian Gray walked smartly across the large expanse of the 'quad', an open grassy area about the size of a football field. It served as the common area between the tall buildings lined with large satellite antenna dishes where training classes were conducted and the shorter buildings to the east that served as the housing areas. On special occasions such as class graduations, or promotional ceremonies, the area also functioned as a parade ground. It was just before five p.m. and the sun was starting to sink low in the western sky.

She was thinking how glad she was that the week was over, looking forward to the weekend and some well deserved relaxation and who knows, just maybe a romantic rendezvous. Maybe that hot little red head will be at the club again. Lost in her musings of possibilities, Jillian didn't hear the jogger approaching from behind. She jumped as she was slapped on the back unexpectedly.

"Hey, you!" the now familiar muscular form pulled up from a full run to match the other woman's stride. "Got out of school late, huh?" Devon asked through deep breaths. She was finishing her run, and her skin was shiny with sweat, droplets clung to the tips of her hair above her collar and her tank top molded to her torso as it absorbed the moisture.

"Yeah, I had a project to finish," Jillian's stare lingered a moment on the bare skin, flush from her workout. She resisted the urge to touch her finger to the large bead of sweat running from under Devon's ear down the muscle at the side of her neck.

Devon nodded. They walked a few moments in silence. "I guess you'll be heading into the city for the weekend?"

"Yep, that's the plan," Jillian returned, "I have a friend who wants to take me for a night on the town."

"Sounds like fun." Devon said quietly.

In the three weeks since she had arrived, Jillian had gone away every weekend. She never said where she went, just 'the city'. The younger woman tried to hide a wave of disappointment, thinking about another solitary weekend. Devon found Jillian totally engaging, relishing her quick wit and sense of humor on display nightly. They talked about everything and nothing late into the evening as their companionable first meeting developed quickly into a friendship. Devon had been used to a somewhat solitary life and it surprised her to realize that she missed Jillian when she was away.

Jillian mulled over Devon's obvious reaction to the mention of her weekend plans. She enjoyed spending time with Devon, so it wasn't that she needed space.

Quite the opposite, many times she fantasized about that gorgeous body molded to hers on the dance floor or sharing a private joke in a truly unguarded moment away from the base. Yeah, there were lots of worse things than having such a great looking woman accompany her on a weekend of fun.

She wanted to ask Devon to Boston, but there were just so many things to consider. She wasn't absolutely certain that the athletic, somewhat solitary new lieutenant would even be comfortable at the establishments that Jillian frequented on her weekend trips. Then there were the others to consider. If she was wrong about the cute second lieutenant, she would put them all in jeopardy. It was one thing for her to take the risk on her own, but entirely another to involve her friends. Then again, her radar usually didn't miss much, and she was sure that she had caught those blue eyes watching her with a bit more interest than the average female.

"W hat are you thinking?" Devon's intense eyes were questioning as Jillian let out an unintentional chuckle at her thoughts. Oh, yeah, I'll bet you are a blast. She drew in a deep breath, savoring the wicked thought.

"W hat?" Devon asked again. She had to smile at the devilishly playful expression on Jillian's face.

"Nothing," her face masked over, recovering from the momentary lustful lapse. Suddenly, trusting her instincts, Jillian plunged ahead.

"W hy don't you come with us?" She watched the blue eyes dance, but Devon's face was still cautious.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense," she insisted, "It's all settled, and my friends are going to love you."

"Thanks!" Devon's brilliant smile appeared, "I just need a few minutes to shower and throw a bag together."

"Okay, I'll go round up the gang and let them know you'll be joining us. With that, she hurried off down the hall, calling over her shoulder, "Be ready in thirty minutes." Chapter 3

The group's Friday night regular spot, Rumors, was a small pool hall located at the east end of what the locals called the combat zone. Lagrange Street, just outside of Chinatown and about a mile from Boston Common, teemed with exotic nightlife as the group of women made their way to the pub.

Devon had never experienced such a place. Street performers lined the sidewalks along with hustlers, gamblers and assorted other street inhabitants. Male and female couples walked proudly, arms around each other's waists, drag queens and kings smiled in acknowledgement of their group as they walked by. The sights and sounds all around her fired Devon's imagination. Her head was on a swivel trying to look everywhere at once. Devon was fascinated by the scenery and amazed to feel her heart pounding with excitement.

Claiming a wooden table large enough for six at the back of the bar, they settled onto stools. A thin, rather butch looking redhead wearing a low cut very tight black t-shirt and a white apron fastened around her waist approached the table. "W haddayahave ladies?"

They ordered two pitchers of beer with six glasses. Jillian observed Devon with amusement as she stared wide-eyed in astonishment at the surroundings. When the beer arrived, the women raised their glasses, toasting the weekend ahead. All of the women were attending advanced training on the same base, but some were in different courses and had not previously met Devon before tonight.

Jillian, who was seated next to Devon, obviously was the quasi-leader of the group. She directed much of the conversation and it was clear that the others placed a great deal of stock in her opinions. Devon noted that a few of the women regarded her suspiciously, and she thought she heard a brunette at the end of the table ask the red head next to her if 'James was okay'.

"How about a game of pool?" Jillian cocked her head toward the nearby tables, flashing a devil may care grin that Devon felt in the pit of her stomach. She immediately accepted, anxious to escape the scrutiny of those seated around the table. She never played pool before, but that didn't seem to matter at all while she basked in the pleasure of Jillian's individual attention.

"Everything okay?" Jillian asked while she applied chalk to her cue stick.

Devon tipped her chin back toward the table, "Is everything okay with your friends?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I don't know, they just seem like

well

I don't quite fit in." Devon's eyes were clouded with discomfort that pained Jillian to see.

She wanted Devon to have a good time, but she understood the other's hesitance. So much was at stake, their careers, their reputations; everything depended upon the utmost confidentiality. She wanted so much to come right out and say it. To tell Devon that it had nothing really to do with her; it was just the fear of being discovered. Jillian had hoped that something would come up in conversation on the ride up, or at least by now. Christ, doesn't she realize there are no men in this bar? Military careers and lesbians, actually all gays, weren't supposed to coexist, at least not according to the rules. Maybe I was wrong to bring you.

Shaking off the haze of doubt, Jillian thought about the reasons she had invited Devon along, aside from her physical attraction to her, of course. She had never heard the woman mention any men in her life, in fact she didn't say much about her personal life at all, with the exception of bragging about her new nephew.

Jillian had often seen the not so subtle glances from countless GI's as they walked around the base, but it was as if Devon didn't even notice them. At school, the guys milled around, like sharks circling prey. As the weeks went by Jillian increasingly felt the urge to drive a fist into the face of the next one who made a lewd comment to the others whenever Devon was out of earshot. Even now, among her friends she felt the overwhelming urge to protect Devon. Maybe it was the fourth beer starting to have an effect on her judgment, but for the second time in a day she decided to trust her gut.

"Don't worry about them, they'll be fine. Ready to play?" she indicated the pool table, grinning broadly at her opponent.

"Is it too late to tell you I've never done this?" Devon said sheepishly.

"Really?" Jillian's eyes flashed with decadence, "I would be happy to give you a private lesson." Seeing a flicker of mischief in response as their eyes locked, Jillian had an odd feeling that they weren't talking about billiards anymore. A second later the look had vanished from the blue eyes and Devon turned her attention to the table.

Jillian efficiently racked the balls and then demonstrated how to break. She called stripes and began methodically working her way around the table, skillfully making four successive shots. Her student watched intently. W hen the teacher missed the next shot, and it was Devon's turn, she tried to line up her first shot.

Years of practice told Jillian that the angle was hopelessly wrong, but she let her try it so that she would see what happened. The green ball sailed across the table harmlessly.

"Oh, I really suck at this," Devon laughed.

"Time for that lesson," Jillian smiled. "May I?"

"Please," Devon held out the stick with her left hand.

"No, you line up a shot and we'll start again." Jillian instructed.

Devon bent at the waist and leaned over the table pointing the stick toward the cue ball. She felt Jillian step close behind her, thighs pressing lightly into the back of her own. Reaching around Devon's shoulders she placed her hands lightly over the other woman's to grasp the cue stick. Devon felt Jillian's breath in her ear and on her neck, sending a shiver throughout her body.

Softly, Jillian said, "You draw an imaginary line through the cue ball into the ball you want to hit and line it up with the pocket. Can you see what I mean?"

Her lips were a whisper away from Devon's ear. Another inch and she could run her tongue along the outer rim and Jillian fought the powerful urge to do just that.

Devon's scent was sending urgent signals to her erogenous zones. Unconsciously she pressed closer to Devon's back. Pulling back on the pool stick together, they knocked the solid orange ball into the side pocket. Both women laughed out loud.

Jillian's head swam as she stood. Her entire body tingled in response to the contact with Devon's. Her voice was tight, "Great shot."

Devon leaned a hip on the corner of the pool table to steady herself. The beer was making her lightheaded, she was certain. She rubbed a hand over her face and breathed deeply to clear her head of the intoxicating feeling. When she looked up again, Jillian was standing directly in front of her, their faces inches apart, the soft brown eyes studying her with concern.

"You okay?" The southern twang always got to Devon and a grin pulled at her lips.

Jillian stared as Devon's lips curved into that smile. Smiling at her. When their eyes met, Jillian felt herself falling into deep pools of blue and she grabbed the table on either side of Devon's legs to control the urge to kiss her fully right then and there. The air in the inches between them was alive and charged, heavy like the feeling of an approaching thunderstorm. Jillian watched the blood pulsing forcefully in the vein of Devon's neck. Neither woman moved, transfixed in the heat of the moment, breathing the same air.

Somewhere deep inside Jillian registered a powerful feeling that was altogether foreign to her. The attraction was beyond physical-no, attraction was physical, plain and simple. So why did this feel

different? Stop it. She silenced the voices in her head. Pushing upright again, Jillian sucked in a deep breath and stepped back, desperately needing her mug of beer.

Confused by the abrupt withdrawal, Devon asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she replied a bit shakily, "I just need another beer." With that, she moved back to the safety of the large table filled with other people.

Watching Devon follow to rejoin the group Jillian grasped her mug with both hands, afraid that she couldn't keep from touching that soft skin again when Devon sat down next to her. To the Kentucky woman's surprise, Devon slid her stool closer as they joined in the raucous conversation going on within the group. No one else could see their legs slightly touching beneath the table.

Before the end of the night, Devon was pleased to feel that the group had begun to accept her. What she didn't realize is that the women had observed those moments of contact between she and Jillian with amused interest. They took note of the flustered look about the usually cool, confident Jillian Gray whenever the new girl was near. The women also noted that Devon was neither overly eager nor uncomfortable with the group's obvious sexuality; she quietly assimilated without effort. The buzz that had filled the room was strong enough that each one of them felt it and realized that they had a good feeling about their new friend.

But for Jillian, the feeling was beginning to take on a much deeper meaning that excited and frightened her to her core.

#

Saturday night was dance night, and the lively group of women entered the night club, moving to the pulsing beat even as they stepped through the entrance. The group threaded their way through the huge space, packed tightly with more women than Devon had ever seen assembled in one place. Just as she had the previous night, Devon was wide-eyed taking in the myriad of sights and sounds around her.

"Hey, Devon, new kid on the block buys the first round," the brunette who had been cautious of her the night before called in a friendly tone. Her name was Julie and Devon had learned from last night's conversation that she and Jillian had met in ROTC, and had for a time, been an item.

"Not a problem," Devon grinned at her. She liked Julie. "So what's everybody having?"

After getting several orders for beers, and assorted mixed drinks, Julie took pity on Devon, and offered to assist her at the bar. Julie was twenty six, roughly the same height as Devon, with a slender build, dark green eyes and shoulder length brown hair. She fixed Devon with a serious but friendly stare as they stood at the bar awaiting service.

"So what gives, kid?"

"Excuse me?" Devon was puzzled by the question and her attention was divided as she attempted to get the bartender's attention.

"You family or what?" still, the question made no sense. The music was loud and Devon couldn't understand.

Leaning in closer to Julie so that she could hear, she asked, "I'm sorry, did you ask about my family?"

Julie waved her hand to disregard, she was obviously getting nowhere, this one was a tough nut to crack, that's for sure. Watching the fair haired lieutenant capture the bartender's undivided attention ahead of many others holding dollars out for service, she shook her head and grinned. She has no idea the affect she has on women.

Jillian made her way back to the table after dancing several fast songs with a hot brunette who had been making eyes at her all evening. She was all smiles and sweaty from the aerobic workout of the dances. Leaning into Devon with her left shoulder she grinned sideways at her, "Having fun?"

"You bet," Devon returned the grin. Tonight, it seemed her senses were heightened. Somehow the little details that she never noticed before seized her attention.

Like the way she was acutely aware of the gold highlights in Jillian's eyes that danced in the flashing lights of the club, or the way she tossed her head back when she laughed, exposing that long column of her neck. Powerless to look away, Devon blushed slightly. She reached for her beer, taking a long slow drink, her eyes riveted on Jillian.

Jillian returned the steady gaze fixing on those impossibly beautiful eyes, allowing her gaze to drift over Devon's face to her full lips. A stray lock of light curl was hanging above her left eye and Jillian reached out slowly to brush it back. She detected no movement from Devon at her touch, save the slow rise of her chest as she took in a deep breath, and her eyes that seemed to turn a bit deeper blue. Jillian leaned forward intent on placing a feather light kiss on the soft lips when the brunette she had danced with earlier suddenly appeared next to her.

Devon looked at the woman and then back to Jillian. Her eyes were guarded now with no hint of the welcome that Jillian was sure she had felt a few seconds ago.

Devon's withdrawal stung and Jillian hesitated. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Just like that, everything shifted and the moment was lost.

"C'mon, beautiful, you still owe me another dance," the brunette prodded. W ith that she tugged Jillian back toward the pulsing lights of the dance floor.

From the dance floor Jillian stared over at the table where Devon and the rest of her friends were enjoying the evening. The dark haired woman in her arms nuzzled against her neck and rubbed a palm against her chest as they swayed with the music. "Mmm, you feel so good," she murmured.

Jillian focused her attention on the woman in her arms. The woman's hands roamed freely under her t-shirt until her thumb stopped on her nipple and began flicking it lightly. Jillian felt a swell of arousal between her thighs and her nipples stiffen under the exploring touch. She could absolutely spend some quality physical time with this beauty. Running a hand through the long dark hair as she felt the brunette's thigh sliding between her legs making her muscles twitch, Jillian looked into hungry eyes. Yes. This was the distraction she needed. Raw physical attraction to take the edge off.

"How 'bout you take me back to your place?" her dance partner purred.

As she considered the proposal, Jillian's eyes fell on Devon's long lean form that she noticed was now standing with her back to the table, watching them. For the first time in memory, she couldn't bring herself to accept the advances of a more than willing, very pretty woman. Jillian stepped back from the embrace, "Sorry, I can't tonight, maybe some other time."

"That is a pity," the dark haired woman pouted.

Jillian left the dance floor, making her way back to the table of military women. Her hormones were raging. Her brain hurt from the onslaught of confusing thoughts and desires. She felt exposed, like her skin had been peeled back removing any protections. What the fuck was wrong with her? She moved to the safety of the opposite side of the table from where Devon stood. There was no way she was going to allow herself to examine what her reactions really meant. Jillian Gray didn't do emotional connection.

Julie had been watching Jillian and Devon's unspoken intensity all weekend. She smiled to herself recognizing the wanting glint in her former lover's eyes when she looked at the attractive new addition to the group. But, the fact that she didn't bed that gorgeous brunette-now there was something shocking. Her gaze traveled down the table and saw Jillian's eyes fixed on Devon. How long before she realizes she is falling for that hot little thing?

Chapter 4

The following Friday night, Devon and Jillian were working furiously to clean and polish their room for the monthly Saturday morning mandatory inspection. Jillian despised these weekends because they interrupted her standing plans for a weekend off the military base, those rare hours where she could relax and be herself.

Nobody in Boston cared if she was a lesbian. In fact, she found the company of many women who were quite pleased to learn that they were exactly what she was looking for. Jillian didn't see anything wrong with her weekend trysts. She always ensured that her partner for the evening was over eighteen, and she'd never had the slightest bit of trouble finding a willing collaborator. But, here they were, wasting a perfectly good Friday buffing the floor and shining shoes.

"Jill, what's up? You're awfully quiet tonight,"

Devon was putting the final polish on the floor using a towel under the buffer pad, pleased that the resulting shine was smooth as glass. She noticed that Jillian was edgy all week. Devon was starting to worry that she had done something to piss her off. It seemed like it started after they left the dance club in Boston last Saturday night. Did I imagine that she was about to kiss me?

"Hmm?" Jillian looked up from the collar brass she was polishing. Devon's normally bright eyes were troubled. Guilt welled up inside Jillian knowing her mood was upsetting Devon, but her own inner turmoil was getting the best of her.

"I asked if you were okay. You've been pretty quiet this week." Devon repeated.

"I'm fine." With that Jillian returned to her polishing, thinking about her feelings, and frustrated by the truth that whenever Devon was around she couldn't concentrate on anything. She was angry with herself for allowing her attention to this woman to result in such uncertainty within her. No, she couldn't talk to Devon about this. Actually, she felt a sudden need to put some distance between them for her own sanity.

"I'm gonna get some fresh air." With that she grabbed her keys off the nightstand and walked out the door, leaving Devon staring at her back as she strode down the hall.

Jillian automatically found herself entering the adjoining dormitory and taking the stairs to the third floor. She lightly knocked at the first door on the right. Julie smiled brightly as she opened her door to find her friend standing there.

"Hey," she gave the other woman a warm hug, "c'mon in."

Returning the hug Jillian stepped inside the room identical to the one she shared with Devon. Looking around at the various personal belongings and photographs on display, her eye was drawn to one of her and Julie the day they graduated from ROTC. Immediately an image of the two of them making love sliced into her consciousness, making her stomach tighten and she immediately pushed it away. That seemed like a lifetime ago and they were too good of friends now to go there again.

"Want a beer?" Julie was extracting two bottles from the refrigerator and Jillian accepted one gratefully.

They shared an uneasy silence for a few minutes as Julie watched her auburn haired friend closely. Her brown eyes were darker than usual and she had a distracted, tense air about her, as though she was a dry twig ready to snap. She sat looking down at the beer bottle, picking at the label with her thumbnail. Julie could see that she was troubled, and she was fairly certain she knew what or rather who was causing her such consternation.

Finally, Julie decided that she would have to be the one to ask. Pulling her chair close enough to place a hand lightly on her friend's knee, she said gently, "It might help if you talk about what's bothering you."

At first, Jillian started to protest. She opened her mouth to tell Julie she was fine, just a bit tired from too much partying, but when she looked into those emerald eyes, she couldn't lie. After all they had been through together Julie was the one person in the world who could read her like a book. She stood and walked to the window, drawing a deep breath, unsure of exactly what to say.

Julie sipped her beer and waited quietly. A few moments later Jillian turned to face her, leaning back on the window sill. She drained her beer, set the bottle beside her and folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes moved from Julie's face to a spot on the wall behind her as she spoke.

"I wish I knew where to begin, Jules." She said just barely above a whisper.

"Anywhere is fine," Julie responded kindly, "You know you can tell me anything."

Jillian nodded, opening her mouth to speak, and then stopped again. Her brown eyes were so awash in confusion that they appeared to be melting.

Julie decided to take a chance. "Is it Devon?"

Jillian visibly tensed at the question and for a moment Julie thought that she said the wrong thing. She held her breath waiting for the other woman's response.

At length, the confused brown eyes found the steady green gaze, drawing strength enough to continue. After a shaky breath, she began, "This is so not like me, Jules. W ell, you know that."

Julie's expression remained calm and reassuring. Jillian plunged ahead, "I can't stop thinking about her. W hen we're not together all I think about is what she might be doing. I can't concentrate on my work. What's worse is when we're together all I want to do is touch her." Her voice broke. Julie wordlessly encouraged

her friend to keep talking with a nod and a slight smile.

"I

I don't know what to do, I am not used to this. I'm the roll in the hay fun girl, right?" She raked her hand through her hair and shook her head. When she saw the flash of hurt in Julie's eyes, she immediately wished she hadn't come. She knew that she had hurt this woman, precisely with her refusal to commit, playgirl behavior. The fear of commitment then had driven Jules away and now Jillian was reminded of the pain she caused and she felt ashamed.

As though reading her thoughts, Julie absolved her, "We were never meant to be Jill." Jillian smiled sadly, grateful for the other woman's ability to forgive.

"So what do you want to do?" Jillian walked to the refrigerator and retrieved two more beers, opening Julie's for her.

"I don't know. Hell, Jules, I don't even know if she's a lesbian for Christ's sake. What am I supposed to do, just ask her? What if she isn't, then what? Will she keep quiet? Oh, this is so fucked up." She rubbed her face with the palm of her hand then stalked across the room trying to burn nervous energy.

Raising her hands to shoulder height and turning in a circle she continued, "Did you see me last week, Jules? I couldn't even sleep with that gorgeous woman that was falling all over me. What's happening to me?" With that she flopped onto the small tan loveseat in the center of the room and pulled a long drink from her beer.

In fact, Julie had seen the signs. It was obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain that Jillian was falling head over heels for the newest lieutenant on the base. At first, Julie had been wary of the newcomer, after all, none of them could be too careful. CID, Criminal Investigations Division, was always looking to expose individuals that they suspected of being homosexual, especially if you were training in a field requiring a security clearance. But, so far, Julie had no reason to suspect that the lieutenant was anything but what she appeared to be-friendly, fun, a bit naïve maybe, and definitely hot.

"So why did you ask her to come to Boston with us? You must have had a reason, Jill," Julie's tone was a bit harder than she intended, but Jillian had to think this through.

When her friend didn't answer, she said quietly, "Jill, I know why you do what you do. You think that not letting people into your heart will keep you from getting hurt again. I can't understand how your family-or any family could turn their back on their own daughter. I know that's why you stay

avoid relationships, but

don't turn your back on the possibility of happiness without even knowing what might be there."

She paused, and carefully finished, "That's really what this is all about, right? She's gotten under your skin. Otherwise you would have already slept with her."

"Do you think I'm crazy?" Jillian's voice was hoarse with emotion. Julie had cut to her inner demons as only she could.

Julie crossed the room to sit next to Jillian. She wrapped an arm around her shoulder to pull the auburn head down to her chest and gently stroked her hair.

"I think you try so hard to appear that you don't need anybody that you almost had yourself convinced. Trust your instincts, Jill. You'll know if it's right."

Jillian looked at her friend in wonder, "How did you get to be so smart?"

Julie gave her a crooked grin, "I read a lot of fortune cookies." Laughing, she playfully pushed Jillian, "Now get out of here and talk to that woman. I have a feeling it will be worth it."

#

He stood in the shadows watching as his subject exited the dormitory to his right, knowing who she had been visiting. So predictable. The minute he saw the two names on the roster in January he knew it was inevitable. He had to admit the two dykes had surprised him, however. In the six months he had been watching they had displayed only friendly platonic behavior. No matter. He had enough 8 x 10 glossies of the two of them in what he could still spin as intimate moments.

That, coupled with the sightings at various clubs in Boston would be more than enough.

That bitch Gray had given him everything he needed to run her out on a rail; a thought that brought a sneer to his pudgy face. His boss told him to make a case on her and move on. But he couldn't give it up. He knew that biding his time would be profitable. Patience was a virtue and it was surely going to pay dividends this time. Out of nowhere last month, a new blonde appeared with the rest of the deviants frequenting those houses of sin in Boston. He scrambled to make identification and to his glee discovered that she was the new resident sharing Gray's room. This is going to be too easy.

Gray climbed the stairs, disappearing inside the adjoining building. The investigator's eyes moved automatically to the second floor window in the center. Lights were on and the shade was up. Is it Christmas? He took a chance and lit a cigarette, careful to cup his hand and conceal the glowing tip. Minutes passed. He didn't care how long he waited. He knew he had Gray. Julia Marks would be easy to flip. Devon James was the next target in sight.

Chapter 5

Walking back across the quad, Jillian thought about the conversation with her friend. She looked up to where the window to their shared room overlooked the open field, knowing as she approached, that she was nearing a moment of truth. She could openly admit to a physical attraction toward the beautiful blonde; who couldn't see how great looking she was? W hat unnerved Jillian is the fact that she never wanted to touch anyone as badly as she wanted to touch Devon and it literally terrified her when she thought about doing it.

She spent so many nights lying awake listening to the soft breathing coming from the bunk below her and imagining what it would be like to hold her while she dreamed. In the morning, if she woke first, she would lean over the side and watch Devon sleep, feeling an ache in her heart. But, she reminded herself all of this build up could be nothing more than wishful, unrequited longing. Julie was right, there was only one way to find out.

When she reached the center of the hallway, she saw that the door to their room was slightly ajar. Remembering that the floor was freshly buffed, Jillian removed her shoes and pushed the door open quietly, stepping inside. Devon was sitting on the medium green velour couch with her chin resting on her knees that were pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She was wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt with cut off sleeves revealing the swell of the side of her breast beneath her raised arm.

Jillian stood anchored to the spot for a few moments, her eyes taking in every inch of the woman seated across the room, her heart beating wildly in her chest. If Devon heard Jillian come in, she didn't show it. She stared out the window at the night.

"Hey," the southern drawl softly broke the silence. She grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator before crossing the room to sit next to Devon on the couch. She opened both bottles and handed one to the woman sitting beside her.

When she got no response, she started again, "You okay?" she shifted and leaned her head at an angle to look at Devon's face. Staring directly into the pool blue eyes, Jillian searched for a welcoming sign. "Mad at me?" she grinned sideways, but held her breath waiting for a response.

Devon smiled in spite of herself, "I thought I'd done something to piss you off." She shrugged.

Shit. "Is that what you thought? No, never...I

just

." Jillian's words failed her as she became desperately aware of how close they were. She felt the points where her body touched Devon's; her hip against a muscular thigh, her elbow slightly touching her side. She locked her eyes on Devon's allowing all of her emotion to show. Jillian would give anything if Devon could see into her heart; to know the depth of her feeling. She didn't want Devon.

Devon was an aching need.

"Please. Don't ever think that." Jillian struggled to speak around the emotion squeezing her throat, "I just last week

I wanted to-"

At that moment, Devon reached out and put a hand on Jillian's left thigh. It was an innocent gesture of encouragement in response to whatever Jillian was struggling to say. The heat from Devon's hand sent a shockwave coursing into Jillian's body. Rational thought was short circuited when unmistakable desire flashed in the inviting pools of blue.

Devon held her breath suspended on a thread of expectation. That intensity was there again constricting her chest. Just like at the bar when she thought Jillian might kiss her. She had only kissed two girls in her life, but she recognized the attraction within her. But, never like this. Desire had a name. Jillian.

Jillian reached out to cup Devon's cheek and in the next second leaned in claiming soft full lips with her mouth. A small cry escaped her throat when she felt Devon's lips part slightly and an exploring tongue search for her own. The kisses were lighting fires inside her that flared hotter and faster than Jillian had ever experienced. She was fast approaching a place where self control would no longer be an option if she wasn't careful. Her head swam and she ignored the thumping pulse between her legs. The look in Devon's eyes made Jillian's insides clench almost painfully. It took every ounce of will to pull back from the kiss.

Devon stammered, "W hat's

wrong?"

"Nothing." Jillian gasped for breath. "I need you to understand." The moonlight streaming through the window danced in Devon's eyes making Jillian swallow hard trying to do things right. "I

don't want you to think that I see you like all the others," she said in a choked whisper. Her dark eyes intensely focused on Devon's,

"Don't you see?"

That glimpse of vulnerability revealed in Jillian's eyes shot a flood of desire through Devon that made her stomach flip. Never before had she wanted-no needed anyone's touch on her skin. The way Jillian was looking at her was pure hunger, so incredibly sexy that Devon had to kiss her. The meeting of their lips was like a tiny spark flaring into a bright flame. The fact that she had never made love with anyone didn't matter, she wanted this.

Jillian felt as if the entire world tilted. Reality as she had known it disintegrated into pleasures that she was feeling as if for the first time. She took Devon's lips ever so softly, caressing them with her own, lightly teasing the tip of her tongue. How long the delicious torment lasted, she had no idea; Jillian was consumed by the taste, the smell, the softness around her. Devon's breathing became heavier and she pressed her hips against Jillian in an unspoken plea. Jillian stood on unsteady legs, helping Devon up off the small couch and guiding them both to the bottom bunk.

Laying her gently on the mattress, she stopped momentarily to search the blue eyes, "Still okay?" as if I could stop. When Devon nodded, she reached beneath the cut off t-shirt to sweep an open hand along the flat plane of her stomach upward until the taught, hard nipple pressed into her palm. Squeezing and kneading the full breasts, she drew soft cries from Devon. Their kisses became more urgent by the second and Jillian slid her leg between the muscular thighs. Devon groaned into her mouth at the sensation.

Jillian pushed her thigh tighter against Devon's center only to feel her hips shift slightly away as hands pushed lightly on her chest, breaking the contact of the kiss. "Jill, wait

"

Mind and body on sensory overload, Jillian barely registered what was happening at the shift in Devon's body, but the words finally penetrated the raging storm that enveloped her brain. Wait?! Fuck. She forced her body to slow and breathed deeply, leaning back to look at Devon with concern. Jillian definitely did not want to screw this up. What she saw in Devon's expression was doubt mixed in with yearning and although she had never wanted anything more in her life, Jillian stopped.

She held her breath, waiting, with an inferno of desire burning in her gut. "You okay?" she finally gasped. Oh my God, I'm dying here.

Devon whispered so softly that Jillian strained to hear, "I never

" she dropped her eyes, murmuring, "I've never done this."

Jillian let out the breath she had been holding. Briefly, she wondered just how cold the shower would have to be to put out the fire in her body. Devon stopped her withdrawal with strong arms tightening around her neck. She pulled Jillian's face so close that she could feel the warmth of Devon's breath against her lips.

"I don't want you to stop," she breathed, "I just don't want to disappoint you."

The mixture of need and uncertainty swirling in the blue eyes following the confession shot a renewed bolt of desire through Jillian. She reached up with a trembling hand to reverently touch the side of her beautiful face, humbled by the trust that Devon was offering.

"You could never disappoint me," her voice quivered with emotion. When Devon looked as though she was going to speak again, Jillian silenced her with a delicate touch of her finger to her lips.

Time slowed. Nothing else existed. Jillian replaced her fingertip with the soft brush of her lips. A fleeting contact promising more. The sound of their mingled breathing seemed to echo through the room. Her smoldering gaze slowly dragged over every inch of the beautiful face and lower. W hen her eyes reached the collar of Devon's t-shirt she slid her hand under the bottom edge along the smooth muscled contours of her stomach. Gently, she coaxed the garment up and off, baring tantalizing breasts to her feasting eyes. Jillian delicately trailed her fingertips along the same path, memorizing the contours like a blind woman reading brail. Finally, when she could no longer contain her desire to taste her, Jillian's lips began a silent worship of the pristine beauty.

Jillian returned to the soft warmth of her mouth, kissing her fully, stoking the flames into a raging fire inside of her. W hen Devon's eyes opened, the ravenous look in the deep blue sent Jillian's blood racing to the junction of her thighs where her own need was demanding her response.

"Oh, God, you are so beautiful, so very beautiful," she whispered through a kiss. She unbuttoned the front of Devon's jeans to reach inside and the welcoming wet heat on her fingertips made Jillian's head spin.

Devon stripped the shirt off of Jillian, freeing her firm tight breasts. She caught one lightly between her teeth and the resulting vibration from a moan against her lips thrilled her. When she felt Jillian reaching into her jeans to touch her, Devon thought she would burst into flames under the exquisite caress. Jillian's kisses left her breathless and the touch on her sensitive tissues was maddening pleasure that Devon wanted to feel forever.

They desperately tore at the last remnants of clothing to remove the final barriers between their bodies.

The gorgeous landscape of Devon's body stretched out before Jillian. She painted kisses from her sensual mouth, down the valley between her breasts, across the muscular abdomen all the while circling lightly her heated swollen center. She took her time and focused because all that mattered was Devon's pleasure this first time. Jillian recognized that her desire for Devon was far more than physical. Her soul screamed to know this magnificent woman completely. W hen Devon cried out and jerked under her, she moved inside her carefully, letting her lover's body adjust and pull her in as she was ready. Devon moaned as Jillian entered her, rocking against her as Jillian began matched the thrusting of her hips.

Devon couldn't think. She could only feel. Every nerve ending inside screamed as Jillian filled her. She was soaring, flying toward the edge of oblivion with Jillian's fingers encased within her. Jillian's tongue was relentless

yeah

driving her steadily

just don't

pushing deeper

stop. Devon's mind exploded in blinding

white ecstasy.

Jillian felt the pulsing tremors of Devon's climax pulling her in. She watched, mesmerized, as the pleasure washed over Devon's face. Devon's eyes were flickering blue flames that bored into her, glazed wild with passion. The irises were like starbursts, exploding in more shades of blue than Jillian had ever thought could exist.

Jillian stilled as powerful emotion gripped her heart. Devon's pleasure became her pleasure, shooting through her depths with dizzying speed. She held them both there on the precipice and then with one last push drove them both over the edge of sanity.

Chapter 6

Loud, deep voices intruded on Devon's peaceful slumber. She tried to roll over, but was unable to move her legs. Blinking awake, she felt Jillian's warm body pressed against her left side, her left arm wrapped around Devon's waist, legs still entangled. Smiling, she pressed a soft kiss to the rich reddish brown hair that spilled across the side of her lover's beautiful sleeping face.

The voices came again from down the hall, Devon frowned wondering what was going on so early-"OHMYGOD!" She jumped upright, causing Jillian's head to fall back to the mattress abruptly.

"Hey!" Came a protest from the bed.

"Jill, get up, now!" Devon was already grabbing uniform pants and two green t-shirts from the closet, throwing one at the woman in the bed. Suddenly realizing what was going on, Jillian scrambled out of the sheets, pulling the shirt over her head as she moved.

"Fuck," she swore aloud, "How close are they? Can you tell?"

"They fucking sound like they're right next door!" Devon snapped, and Jillian laughed.

Scrambling under the bed to pull the sheets and blanket tight for the inspection, Devon responded, clearly irritated, "W hat's funny? This is not funny, Jill."

"I'm sorry," Jillian tried to suppress another chuckle, "I have never heard you swear before, and it just struck me

" She broke into laughter, even as she buttoned

the front of her uniform shirt.

Devon shot a warning look, but somewhere inside her eyes smiled back. "W ell, maybe it's a little

"

They heard the footsteps approaching their door, just as they finished lacing up their boots, looking at each other, checking for stray strings or lint but finding none. Although they were waiting for it, the loud knock at the door made them both jump.

Jillian, as the ranking officer, opened the door for the company commander, a tall lean man with black hair cut in a flat top and dark, nearly black eyes. "Good morning, major." Both women stood at attention as he examined their uniforms, his back to the rest of the room. Devon's eyes fixed on something they had missed. Directly behind Jillian, wedged in between the metal bars and the mattress at edge of the pillow was a pair of white briefs. This was a critical moment, because a failure at inspection resulted in having to repeat the next Saturday, therefore no weekend pass.

The major finished his inspection of their uniforms, and turned his attention to the room. He noted the high shine on the floor with a pleased grin. Devon's eyes met Jillian's and she looked at the offending, out of place fabric in the bed frame. Her eyes jumped back to Jillian's desperately trying to make her look at the bed.

She saw a question in the brown eyes, but no movement. When his back was completely to her, Devon risked pointing her finger indicating for Jillian to look.

Glancing quickly, Jillian saw the problem, but could not get to it without being seen. She shrugged almost invisibly at Devon.

"So how is my star runner this morning?" the major was asking as he surveyed the rest of the spotless room.

"Sir?" Jillian was caught off guard by the question.

Turning back to face the two women, he looked directly at Devon with a friendly smile. "Last Wednesday, Lieutenant James? Major Thompson is very used to winning that PT challenge. I was extremely pleased at the way you outlasted his captain in the final leg of the race." He crossed the room as he said this and extended his hand to Devon.

"Thank you, sir." She smiled. It's not that I'm that good; I'm just too stubborn to quit.

"No, thank you, lieutenant, that is the first time all year our company has won. Finally, I didn't have to buy his drinks at the officer's club. Boy was he pissed."

He turned to walk out, and then his head leaned to the side, as if something caught his eye near the bed. Devon's heart sank. He sees it. Standing still momentarily then slightly shaking his head, he strode toward the door.

"See you at next week's run lieutenant." With that he exited the room.

Both women exhaled loudly as soon as the door closed, then automatically broke into gales of laughter. Jillian pulled Devon's briefs from the rail and tossed them at her head.

"That was a close one." She giggled, "I've been through enough of these to know he doesn't miss anything. You saved us by winning that race for him."

Devon laughed as well, "Hey, whatever works, right?"

"I'll tell you what works," Jillian closed the distance between them, drawing her arms around the thin waist and linking her fingers together at the small of Devon's back, pulling her close.

Devon rubbed her forearms, leaning back slightly to look into her soft brown eyes.

"W hat?" Devon asked.

Jillian stepped from the embrace and moved purposefully to the door. She flipped the lock with authority before crossing back to where her lover stood and drew her again into the circle of her arms. A sultry smile transformed her features as her eyes blazed into Devon's.

"This." She hungrily kissed her lover, tripping the switch on the passion that had consumed them during the night. They fell back into the bed, unaware of anyone or anything beyond their touch.

Chapter 7

The handsome young couple exited the mess hall; Devon held the door for her partner, stepping out behind her. An autumn chill was in the air, but otherwise the night was clear, with bright stars and the enormous orange harvest moon hovering overhead. Breathing the fresh cool air deeply, Devon sighed, "I love the fall."

"Mmm, me too," agreed Jillian, "What do you say we enjoy this beautiful night a bit longer, and take a walk down by the lake?"

"A moonlit walk by the lake, if I didn't know any better I would think you were trying to seduce me," Devon playfully leaned her shoulder into Jillian.

Looking at her hopelessly attractive lover, Jillian grinned and replied seductively, "Always."

The two women walked quietly together for a time, close enough that the fabric of their jackets touched, but their hands remained in their pockets as they crossed the base. Along the way, they passed other couples, male/female, and almost always they held hands or had their arms around each other as they walked.

Devon's awareness had been heightened since she and Jillian had become involved, and it irritated her that she could not hold her lover's hand in public without fear of retribution.

"W hat's wrong, love?" the soft melodic sound of Jillian's voice pulled her from the disturbing thoughts. Immediately, looking into her big brown eyes made Devon's heart flutter and she couldn't stop herself from smiling if she tried.

"Nothing," she leaned against the taller frame slightly, "I was just thinking about us, that's all."

"W hat about us? You're not changing your mind on me, are you?" Jillian felt her stomach churn at the thought.

"No, ma'am, not a chance," the dazzling smile and certain tone soothed Jillian's soul.

"So, what's going on in that pretty head?"

They stopped walking and faced each other on the sidewalk. Instinctively, Devon stepped closer and reached out to touch Jillian's cheek. Jillian immediately stepped back. "What are you doing?" She hissed.

Devon shrugged. I just got the urge to kiss you

Footsteps on the sidewalk made Devon glance over her shoulder and both women backed apart. The two soldiers approaching walked between the women, their eyes roaming arrogantly as they passed. Male privilege, Devon thought derisively. Again, she started to close the distance between them until Jillian put a hand on her chest to stop her advance. Pain flashed in Devon's eyes at Jillian's rebuke. Jillian dropped her eyes from the wounded look.

Devon tugged lightly on her sleeve until Jillian met her eyes again. "It's just that

" she stopped as another couple walked past them arm in arm, "

I think it's

totally bullshit that we have to keep our hands off just because other people may be uncomfortable. Why is showing our love wrong?" Shaking her blonde head furiously, she pushed her fists deep into her jacket pockets in frustration.

"Ya know, Dev," Jillian said quietly, "It would be really great if everyone in the world was as idealistic as you, but that's not exactly reality. You do know that, right?"

"I'm not trying to be some super hero or anything; I just think that if two people love each other, then that can't be bad." Devon sincerely believed what she was saying.

"Listen to me," Jillian implored, "That's just not possible for us. You can't go around showing public displays of affection. And your reckless tendency toward defiance isn't going to help either one of us."

The reprimand stung and Devon clenched her jaw. "Yeah, I know their rules. You act like you believe them. We're not doing anything wrong."

"W ell, those are dangerous thoughts you're thinking," Jillian responded dolefully.

Jillian looked at the ground as they walked, thinking about what Devon said. She knew that Devon was right in principle but it was just a fact of life of being a lesbian, particularly in the military. It was a matter of being a realist, that's just the way it is. No need stewing over something you can't change. She knew all too well the high price to be paid for that kind of honesty. Her thoughts drifted to her family in Kentucky and the agony she felt when they had told her to leave, realizing that even still she wanted someday to be able to go back. Someday. Maybe they'll love me again.

They had reached the lake and were alone among the pine trees about twenty feet from the shoreline. Devon stepped close to Jillian, placing her hands gently on her waist. She felt trembling beneath her fingers and realized that Jillian was crying. Devon's stomach lurched at the sight of her normally confident dashing lover suddenly looking crushed and lost. Her own heart felt like it was breaking. Her eyes darted over every inch of her face, she implored, "Honey, tell me, what is it?"

They sat at the edge of the tree line side by side, Jillian's auburn head leaning on Devon's shoulder. Jillian couldn't remember the last time she cried, much less let herself be comforted by anyone. But, here with this special woman, she felt sheltered and safe. The defensive wall she built from the rest of the world crumbled in the presence of the trust that had grown between them. Devon sat quietly holding her, stroking her hair, knowing that she would talk when she was ready.

After a long while, Jillian sat upright, squaring her shoulders. Devon moved so that she was facing Jillian, reaching up softly to brush tears from her cheeks. They held each other's hands in their laps as she gathered her thoughts.

"W hen I was 16 or 17 years old," she began quietly, "I realized that I was different from other kids, but I really didn't know why. I was a tomboy guess you'd say

my whole life. Being a lesbian never occurred to me, 'cause we didn't know any gay people, at least not that I knew."

Devon's face held the hint of a rueful smile, remembering how she couldn't understand why her mother always seemed so angry with her. She nodded in understanding. It wasn't until she saw her first B rated lesbian flick that she even recognized that was what she was feeling.

"Anyway," Jillian continued, "When I went to college, you know, in the big city of Lexington and all, I broadened my horizons

and had my first sexual

experiences. So, throughout college, I brought friends

women

home sometimes-but we were never disrespectful or anything-and I guess I thought that everybody must know, because nobody said anything to me. By the time I graduated, I fooled myself into believing that my folks knew I was gay but just tried to ignore it, kind of like just don't talk about it, ya know?" her eyes bled with pain. She searched Devon's face, desperate for understanding.

Jillian looked away to the water and drew a ragged breath before continuing. "I came home from college and one day my brother asked me if I was gay. I didn't lie because I had always been taught not to, and I thought my brother would be okay with it." Fresh tears filled her brown eyes, blurring her vision.

"That night, my parents came to my room and confronted me." She shook her head, smiling regretfully through the tears. "I thought it would be disrespectful to lie to them so I told the truth

and

" her voice was a jagged whisper, "They told me to get out of their house. My father said he would rather I had told him I was a hooker." A choked sob escaped her throat as she stared at their hands.

Devon felt Jillian's pain acutely because she knew exactly how it felt to have your parent look you in the eye and reject you. Anger raged through her at the thought of anyone hurting Jillian, especially the very people who were supposed to love unconditionally. She felt the urge to pound something. Hard. Instead she corralled her rampant thoughts to focus entirely on comforting Jillian. Devon would give anything to shield Jillian from pain.

She held on tightly while Jillian's body shook as the sobs ripped from her throat. Eventually, Jillian's breathing calmed and the tremors in her body subsided. She drew a deep breath and leaned back to look at Devon, "Sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

When Jillian looked into her eyes, the raw suffering mixed with an innocent plea for help captured Devon's heart. Gently, she cupped Jillian's face between her hands. She brushed a soft kiss on her lips and searched Jillian's dark eyes, finding her own emotion answered there.

"I'm falling in love with you Jillian Gray." She said with quiet certainty.

Jillian inwardly flinched at Devon's terrifying pronouncement. Love? Her mind froze on the word. Love was just a ticket to heartache. She reminded herself how love made you open yourself up to all kinds of pain. It made you careless, and no way could either one of them afford carelessness in their professions now. CID

was all over the base, hunting those foolish enough to believe that love could survive the relentless scrutiny.

Still, those lovely blue eyes made her want to believe in any possibility, and Jillian responded physically to the closeness of her body, very aware of the desire between them. Devon kissed her more urgently, erasing Jillian's fear with strong arms holding her in a protective embrace. Jillian surrendered to their passion, allowing herself to be swept away on the tide of this beautiful woman's love.

Chapter 8

Devon was lying on the bed with a shadowy female figure leaning over her naked form. Hands were stroking every inch of her body, sending pulsating rhythms straight to her clitoris. As the woman moved lower, a shaft of light illuminated her face for a split second. Devon recognized the stunning beauty was Jillian, and she moaned, raising her hips in anticipation of her caress.

Jillian smiled up at her, opening her mouth to speak, BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, "W ha-the?"

The incessant beeping of the alarm clock yanked Devon awake from her delicious dream. Blinking hard to clear her vision, she gently rolled away from Jillian to silence the din, frowning at the red numbers glaring 0600. Rolling back, she curled her arm around the sleeping woman, stroking her breast absently, and thinking. I can't believe the weekend went by so fast. Leigh and the kids really took to you, sweetheart. Could my life get any better? Smiling to herself she wrapped both arms tightly around Jillian.

"Mmm, good morning," Jillian mumbled, pulling the green army issue blanket up over her shoulder.

Kissing her temple, Devon replied, "Morning, hon."

"Guess its back to the grind, today, huh?" Jillian pouted.

"Guess so."

"I think I'm going to be late getting out tonight. The major said he wanted to see me."

"Everything okay?" Devon felt an odd sensation creep up her spine.

"Sure, I guess." Jillian shrugged and smiled, "You worry too much, it's probably just to let me know where my next duty station will be, remember I graduate in two weeks."

"You're probably right." Devon had tried hard not to think about Jillian finishing school so soon, and she just hoped that her permanent assignment wasn't on the other side of the world from the one she would draw in a few months. Still, the uneasiness remained with Devon all day.

Weaving her way through the cafeteria line just past twelve, Devon searched for a table with an empty seat. A familiar brunette waved from across the room, seated at a small two top by the window. "Hey, Jules," she said as she took the open seat, "Haven't seen you for a while, how are ya?"

"Good." Julie forced a smile, but her eyes were serious as she looked across the table at the younger blonde lieutenant. "I hear you went home for Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, we had a great time," Devon grinned at the thought of their wonderful weekend.

Julie exhaled loudly, shaking her head, "So it's true."

"W hat?"

"That the two of you went away together." Her tone was clipped, and her eyes became guarded.

Devon regarded the other woman with surprise, her response was slowly methodical. "Yes, Julie. Jillian and I went together, is that so surprising?" Devon had no idea where this conversation was heading, but she had a gut feeling that she wasn't going to like it much. Julie's green eyes were cold as she met Devon's stare.

"Do you have a problem with me asking Jill home with me? 'Cause if you do, you're gonna have to just get over it, Jules. Christ, how long has it been? Just let it go."

"Oh, yeah, you would love it to be that. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not jealous."

"Okay, good, then what?"

"You really don't know, do you?" Anger was simmering in the green stare now, and Devon felt her defenses automatically engaging, but for what?

"You really think that the two of you can play house every day in the middle of a military base, take trips together, and who knows what else, and nobody will

notice?" Julie spoke quietly, but her tone was cold.

"I really don't know-"

"Oh, cut the shit, Devon!" Julie snapped, "You know the stakes around here, but you seem to be forgetting, it's not just about you, it's about all of us." She waved her hand dismissively in the air, "As if you care."

"Jules, I don't know why you are so angry. Jill and I are very careful." She met Julie's stare, searching for some explanation for this sudden anger from her friend.

Finally, the angry emerald glare softened a bit. Drawing a deep breath, Julie looked at the table then back to Devon's eyes.

"You are so infuriatingly naïve," she shook her head, "They don't need to actually see anything. Just the amount of time you two spend together is enough." Her eyes bored into Devon's. "Jillian knows better than to be so careless. She and I are already on their radar."

Frustrated, Devon leaned forward, "What are you talking about, Jules?" Impatience and fear combined in her tone.

"CID. They pulled a few of the girls in the last couple of days, asking lots of questions, intimidating the hell out of people. It's working, too. People are already paranoid. I said that I would talk to you because of my relationship with Jill." She hesitated a beat, fixing Devon with a hard stare, "Some of the others didn't even want to be seen with you."

Devon's head was pounding and her stomach soured. "So what exactly are you saying, Julie?"

Julie stared directly at Devon, a serious, slightly dangerous expression on her face. Her jaw clenched and Devon could see the knot in the corner working as she contemplated her response.

"It's a witch hunt. They are looking to root out gays and lesbians, and they don't care how they get their information. Like I said, people have already been questioned," Sadness replaced the anger in her eyes when she looked at Devon again. "I heard Jillian's name came up, and since the two of you are together

"

Devon stared wide eyed at the brunette as the words hit her like a blow to the stomach. Her mind raced trying to understand what this all meant. Then she remembered what Jillian said that morning. I'll be late. The major wants to see me.

Julie stood to leave, remaining serious, "Let me give you some advice. Put some distance between the two of you. Everybody is at risk and everybody has to look out for themselves right now. People are going to be doing anything they can to save their own asses, even if it means sacrificing someone else."

She stopped, considering her words, "You think you know her, but you don't. Not like I do. Gray's a survivor, she takes care of herself. Always has, always will.

You need to look out for yourself, James. Nobody else is going to." W ith that, she walked away, leaving Devon feeling confused and frightened by the gravity of Julie's message.

Chapter 9

"Lieutenant Gray, please come in," the major instructed.

Danger enveloped her as Jillian stepped into the company commander's office. Two additional men were in the room, seated on the couch just to the right of the large oak desk. The insignia on their uniforms identified them as being attached to the military policing company. Their expressions were fixed like granite.

The tension in the room was oppressive and Jillian concentrated on steadying her breathing to remain calm. She came to attention two feet in front of the desk, snapping her right arm in a salute to the dark haired man standing on the other side. He returned the salute and motioned for her to sit.

"Have a seat and relax, lieutenant."

Jillian sat ramrod straight in one of the two wooden chairs in front of the desk. Relax? Her anxiety was off the chart; her heart was pounding so hard she thought he must be able to see it. Her eyes darted from the major to the two MP's seated across the room.

The major moved around to the other chair and sat next to her. Clearing his throat, he addressed her formally, "Lieutenant, these men are investigators assigned to CID." Jillian's stomach rolled and she felt bile rising to the back of her throat. "They want to ask you a few questions."

"Yes sir," she managed.

Jillian had no idea what to do. She had heard of people being spirited away for 'interviews', never to return to their regular duties. Panic was beginning to grip her insides, making it difficult to breathe. She forced those thoughts from her mind, trying to convince herself momentarily that this meeting could be about anything.

CID being here didn't necessarily mean she was under investigation. Of course, it didn't ease her discomfort that they might want her to snitch on someone else.

The taller of the two investigators, a Chief Warrant Officer who stood about 5'10" and appeared very fit, with cold grey eyes and dark hair mixed with grey, stood and moved over to the desk in front of Jillian. Resting his hip on the corner, he assessed her for a few moments before speaking. "Lieutenant, my name is Chief Martin," he gestured to the other man, "And this is Chief Honeycutt." Jillian nodded but remained silent her eyes watching Martin intently. His body language was relaxed and his voice even friendly, but his eyes were cold steel looking at her.

Martin continued, "As you may know, CID conducts various types of investigations, some internal, some criminal, some conduct related violations-some a combination of the three." He stopped momentarily, watching the lieutenant for signs of unease, but saw only a deep brown fixed stare. "At any rate, we have already spoken to

several

uh

acquaintances of yours," his smile didn't reach his eyes, "It seems that your name keeps coming up."

The twenty four year old from a small Bible belt dot on the map and no real world experience, except college nights out on the town, struggled to keep her fears in check. She had a damn good idea where he was going with this conversation. She had heard tale of their tactics from others who came before. Once the hunt began, they used gossip, innuendo, whatever tricks they had to get people to turn on each other, to turn each other in. Jillian also knew that the penalties for homosexual conduct ranged from reduction in rank and a less than honorable discharge to criminal charges and court-martial.

Forcing herself to continue to meet the cold, mocking stare of the investigator, she said as evenly as possible, "Maybe you could start by telling me exactly what we are talking about."

The second investigator, a short, balding man wearing gold wire rimmed glasses spoke from the couch. "W e are talking about conduct unbecoming an officer, lieutenant. We have reason to believe that you have information on activities that are prohibited-"

The major interrupted, "Chief, should the lieutenant have any kind of legal counsel present?"

The major didn't much like these strong armed tactics. He personally didn't believe that it was the government's business if a person were gay or not.

Professionally, he wasn't about to risk his career by getting in CID's way. After all, they had too many ways of coming after just about anyone.

Looking evenly at the major, Martin replied, "No, sir not at this time. We are looking into some talk going around, nothing substantial." He flashed a silencing look at Honeycutt, and then looked at Jillian, "Of course, we don't mean you lieutenant. We just thought that you might be helpful in getting to the bottom of a few things; just a conversation. You're alright with that, aren't you?"

Jillian had no idea what to do. If she said no, then they would call her evasive, say she was trying to hide something. Then again, if she agreed to talk without any legal counsel, she might say the wrong things and make the situation worse for herself or somebody else. Who have they already talked to?

Her mind raced trying to imagine all of the possibilities. Had they been following her? She thought going to Boston was safe. Maybe it wasn't. What about Devon?

Oh, my God, have they been in our room while we're gone? She decided that she had to talk to them or she would have no idea what was happening, and the unknown was definitely worse.

"W hat would you like to know, Chief?" Jillian fixed him with a steady gaze, but still the investigator heard the nervousness in her voice.

"Does the name Julia Marks mean anything to you?" Martin was an experienced interrogator. He didn't ask questions that he didn't already know the answer to.

He already had information that Marks and Gray had been involved in ROTC. The investigation there had gone cold when they apparently ended their relationship. After graduation they were, of course reassigned separately completely severing the tie. But then, this assignment brought the two women back together in a sense. He watched as the mention of Mark's name caused a flash of fear in the otherwise defiant brown eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, he pressed, "Well, lieutenant? Do you know Lieutenant Marks?"

"Yes."

"And, what is the nature of your relationship with her?"

Jillian's thoughts were so frantic; she felt that her head might explode from the building pressure. Why do they want to know about Jules?

"W e are friends." She said calmly. She thought she heard the other investigator swear under his breath. Martin shot him another deadly look.

"That's all? Just friends?" His grey eyes were boring into her.

"Yes." Jillian was technically not lying; the relationship with Jules had been over for quite some time.

Investigator Honeycutt spoke, "W hat about when you were in ROTC?"

Jillian's breathing accelerated and her palms were sweating now. She fought the urge to fidget in the chair and wipe her palms on her legs. Martin didn't miss the fact that she had begun chewing on the inside of her lip. She cleared her throat and offered, "We have been friends for quite a while."

"So you'd say you know each other pretty well, then, I take it?" Martin had resumed his amicable tone. "She knows as much about you?" Jillian nodded.

"Does Lieutenant Marks date men?"

The question struck Jillian like a slap to the face and she blinked hard struggling to maintain her composure. After a few seconds she responded, "You would have to ask her."

Martin knew he had struck a nerve. He could see the cracks in the armor starting to develop, but this session was not about breaking Gray. No, this was to plant a seed, a fishing expedition, and he was feeling a nibble on the line. He smiled almost imperceptively. Time was on his side and he knew that if he was patient, he may be successful in making several cases at once. There was still one more subject in this investigation, and he still needed to talk to her. If he jumped too soon, someone might escape.

"Fair enough, lieutenant." He stood walking to the window behind the captain's desk. "I do appreciate your loyalty to your friend." Smiling again, "Thanks for your time; that will be all, I think for now."

"You're dismissed, lieutenant," the major instructed.

"Thank you, sir, good night then." Jillian hurried to escape the room.

Alone on the sidewalk, her emotions seeped out. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she walked blindly across the base. Her mind was spinning out of control as she replayed the interview in her head, trying desperately to figure out what was happening. They are investigating Jules? What about the rest of us? Am I really just a witness? No, probably not. But then why would they let me go if they knew something about me?

By the time she got to the barracks it was almost 6:30 and dark. Jillian climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway toward their room. Stopping outside the door, she was suddenly afraid to enter. She had no way of knowing if any of this affected Devon. Christ, maybe she got called in today too!

That thought sent Jillian into a panic at the thought of those bastards coming after her lover. She threw open the door and stormed into the room. Devon, who had been alternately pacing the room and staring out the window nervously, jumped as the door struck the wall. Jillian pushed the door closed behind her and crossed the room to Devon.

"Dev, you okay?" Jillian was breathless, her emotions on overload, tears dangerously close to the surface and she blinked them back.

Devon threw her arms around her lover's neck, "I was so worried about you."

Jillian gathered Devon into a tight hug, intent on fusing their bodies together. She shook with emotion, clinging desperately to the only truth in her life.

After a few moments, Jillian said, "W e have to talk."

"Okay, then sit," Devon recognized pure fear in Jillian's eyes.

"No, not here," Jillian whispered, her eyes darting around the room. Now she felt danger everywhere. "Let's go," with that, she pulled Devon from the room and they hurried out of the building, across the quad to the burger joint on the other side of the base.

#

Honeycutt's eyes sparkled when he heard the soft knock on the door. "Come in," he called out as he stood to take a position in front of the desk. He watched as the lieutenant entered, her eyes darting around the room nervously before settling on him. Indicating the chairs in front of him, he forced his best congenial smile.

"Please, have a seat."

The lieutenant sat reluctantly. In the silence she shifted in the chair, again giving the room a once over, as if expecting to find something.

Honeycutt leaned his stout frame back against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, never taking his eyes off the young woman. He saw the effect that the stress of recent weeks was having upon her. He saw the uncertainty, the nervousness, the fear. Inwardly he smiled at that. Fear was an emotion that he learned was a powerful motivator, perhaps the most powerful of them all. The groundwork had been laid and now it was time to set events in motion. Spring his trap.

Martin was moving too slowly. He was soft, Honeycutt could tell. Oh, his boss talked a big game, but when it came right down to doing whatever was necessary to purge the ranks of the military of these deviants, he choked. Hiding behind the excuse of rules and the Uniform Code of Military Justice, he kept them from taking necessary measures. Rights? That's what Martin was worried about? The rights of these perverts?

Honeycutt was not about to let a little thing like rule of law get in his way. Martin might be pissed, but once it was done what could he say? He wouldn't be able to risk challenging a successful investigation into rampant homosexuality, because then he might be looked at differently. Yes, despite Martin's skittishness, Honeycutt had no doubt his plan would work.

Finally, he spoke into the silence.

"Lieutenant, I'm so glad that you realized that coming into talk with me was the right thing to do." The mask of his face revealed nothing but the false sincerity that he wanted her to buy. "You've considered my offer, I take it?"

The lieutenant stared at the investigator wondering how her life and career had come down to this. She sat up straighter, as if that might strengthen her resolve.

Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, "Yes, I'll do it."

He smiled carefully, not wanting to reveal his glee. "I've taken the liberty of typing up a statement for you based upon our previous conversation. Read it over and if there's anything you're uncomfortable with, we'll change it." With that, he slid the paper in front of her.

Julie looked down at the page. It was a statement detailing her knowledge of lesbians at the base, particularly Jillian Gray. The statement noted her prior relationship with Jillian, but made it seem that Julie had been taken advantage of by the more experienced and promiscuous Gray. It also named Devon James as a possible new conquest of Gray's.

"But, I thought this was going to be about James," she questioned, "I mean, she's the reason Jil-Lieutenant Gray wasn't-"

"Now, Julia. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is maintaining your own reputation and career, isn't that right?" He leaned his hip against the desk in front of her. "Let's not forget that I'm doing this out of respect for your father and brother. General Marks is being considered for a Chiefs of Staff position, I hear. It just wouldn't do to have a scandal like a gay daughter marring his impeccable reputation, would it?"

He smiled thinly, "Besides, Gray brought this on herself with her indiscretions."

Julie stopped reading when tears blurred her vision. He was right, her father's career was at stake in this too. And Jillian? W hy couldn't she understand that what they had was perfect? If she had only given them another chance, things would have turned out differently. They knew what the stakes were and played the game carefully. Not like that dumbass James. She took the offered pen and signed her name witnessing the document.

"You have done well, Julia." Honeycutt placed a hand on her shoulder that made Julie recoil. Ignoring the reaction, he returned the paper to the top of the desk.

"So, what happens now?" She mumbled, unable to look at the asshole anymore. Her stomach threatened to hurl its contents all over his shoes. She thought back to ROTC when she and Jillian were together. We were happy, weren't we? And then her mind flipped to last month when they went to Boston. Jillian and Devon had gotten their own room. Separate from the rest of the group. The way Jillian looked at her; as if nobody else existed in the world.

That's when it really hit her. This wasn't one of Jillian's flings, it was far more serious. Did Jillian really think that low life from the wrong side of the tracks was better for her than Julie? She thought if she played along and humored Jillian that whatever it was between them would burn itself out, but so far that hadn't happened. Fine. If that's what Jillian wanted, then so be it.

"Now," Honeycutt responded, "We get you set up in a new assignment, without a security clearance, of course." Julie winced. "Don't worry, I'll make sure they explain it away as a move for the needs of the Army. You're doing your country a service."

He stood and began guiding her to the door, continuing his monologue, "You will go on to have a successful career as an Army officer. Your father will become a member of the Joint Chiefs. Everything is going to work out fine."

Chapter 10

Once at the Double D's Burger and Suds, they moved to a booth at the back of the room next to the jukebox, where Jillian felt safe to talk with the music drowning out their conversation. They ordered burgers and fries and a pitcher of beer. Neither of them spoke until the waitress poured two glasses from the pitcher and left the table. Both took a long drink from their glasses and then began to talk simultaneously.

Laughing nervously, they said again together, "You go ahead."

"You first," Devon said still smiling uneasily. Jillian nodded and looked around the room, wanting to ensure that she didn't know anybody in the place. Of course, if they were being followed, she probably wouldn't recognize the person. She sighed and returned her gaze to the safety of Devon's blue eyes.

"I got called in tonight by CID."

"W hat?" Devon was incredulous. She couldn't believe that this happened so fast. Julie had just warned her at lunch and she was going to tell Jill tonight, and now it was already too late.

"Are you okay? W hat happened?"

She nodded that she was fine and took another long draw on her beer, finishing the glass. As Devon poured her another, Jillian, continued, "They asked me about Jules," she looked at the table shaking her head, "they wanted to know how close we were and mentioned us at ROTC."

Devon blew out a long breath, "Is that all?"

Jillian shook her head and met Devon's eyes, "They asked me flat out if Julie goes out with men."

Devon's eyes grew large with astonishment. Then it was her turn to drain her beer glass. "What did you say?"

"I told them to ask her."

Devon realized now that Julie's warning was not due to hearing about others being questioned as she said at lunch. She had been questioned, and was trying to warn them. Or was she trying to get information out of Devon?

The waitress dropped off their burgers along with a bottle of ketchup. When she asked if they wanted another pitcher, Devon nodded.

Jillian struck the ketchup bottle with the heel of her hand, pouring the red sauce generously on her cheeseburger before drizzling it on her fries. Devon watched her for a minute before speaking, "I saw Julie at lunch today." Jillian's eyes flashed with a mixture of uncertainty and fear.

"She told me that CID had been asking around, only she made it seem like other people had been questioned and told her about it." Jillian listened intently.

"She also made it clear she's pissed at us."

The auburn haired woman raised an eyebrow in question as she chewed a bite of the burger. "Us? What did we do?"

"W ell apparently, she thinks," Devon took a bite of her burger, "-and she said others did too-that we have been carelessly flaunting our relationship, and endangering everyone." Jillian frowned and drank more beer, pondering this information.

"She said we should back off before something bad happens, because then everyone will be out to save their own ass." Devon finished, pushing a french fry into her mouth. Jillian remained silent.

Devon pushed ahead, "Now that you told me that they asked you only about Julie, my gut says that she may already be saving her own ass. I'd bet they got to her already and they're trying to use her to get to you maybe." She studied Jillian's face carefully, trying to read her thoughts. "I know you have a history with her, but it just seems like too much of a coincidence, Jill." She decided not to tell her about the way Julie had inferred that Jillian could not be trusted.

Jillian stared past Devon at the other people in the pub laughing, talking, shooting pool or just having a beer without a care in the world. If those guys wanted to pick up a different woman every night, nobody would say a word. She thought about that smug son of a bitch Martin and how he asked if Julie dated men, the implication being of course, that if she wanted to screw a different guy every hour, then he would be fine with that. If her choice of sexual partner were a woman, well then that is unacceptable. She was furious at a society that judged people so harshly for simply being who they were, and then made fugitives of the ones who only wanted to also serve their country. Suddenly she slammed her fist on the table in frustration, causing Devon to jump and push away her food, no longer hungry.

"You know they're going to haul you in too, it's just a matter of time, Dev." Jillian looked at her seriously then studied her hands on the table. She couldn't bear the thought that she had brought such danger into Devon's life. Why couldn't you just leave her alone? The acute sadness that poured over her was almost unbearable and Jillian rubbed her eyes briskly to eliminate the tears that began to overflow the edges of her lashes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

As if reading her mind, Devon replied, "I'm not." When Jillian's eyes met Devon's she saw tears covering a fierce glare. "You didn't do anything Jill, they are out of line and they're wrong. They can ask me whatever they want, I won't lie and I won't deny you."

Looking at the woman she loved and seeing the fear in her eyes was almost more than Devon could take. Suddenly, she could not sit in this place, surrounded by strangers and unable simply to comfort her. She threw money for the check on the table, walked to the payphone and called a taxi. Five minutes later, she directed the taxi driver to the barracks. Running in, she threw together a bag for them and when she returned told the driver to take them into town to a hotel, away from the base and all things military, even if just for the night.

Inside, she wordlessly wrapped her lover in a protective embrace, wanting nothing more than to shield her from the mounting danger around them. In the midst of the fear and uncertainty, they clung to each other. Devon began caressing her back and bottom while kissing her tenderly, and breathing 'I love you' repeatedly against her neck, lips and in her ears. Jillian responded to her touch by claiming Devon's mouth forcefully. Their mouths fused together almost painfully in a ravenous need to feel each other's passion.

As the heat between them blazed into an inferno Devon ripped the t-shirt over Jillian's head to expose her breasts. Instantly, the tips hardened like pink stones against the creamy softness surrounding them. Devon seized one with her teeth and the other between her thumb and forefinger, nipping and pulling at the sensitive bulbs simultaneously. Jillian crushed her body more tightly against Devon's in response as a cry left her throat and wetness pooled between her legs.

Clothing was shed as need replaced desire, their skin aflame under the other's touch; searing their souls and obliterating all doubt or fear. Blood flowing like lava in their veins, they consumed each other; continuously driving their bodies to ever greater heights of passion until exhausted, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Devon woke around midnight. She stared at the ceiling while absently tracing her fingertips on Jillian's shoulder. Her head rested on Devon's chest and she could tell the deep steady breathing that she slept soundly. The comfort of feeling Jillian's body along the length of hers did little to erase the anger building within her.

Devon could feel it churning inside.

She was tired of everyone trying to make her hate herself. Make her change. Hide. First her mother, then her teachers and now the military; it was always the same. She always tried to be a good daughter, she knew she was a good student and a damn good soldier. She was a military officer for Christ sakes, swore an oath to defend her nation willingly. Devon knew she could do that without question. So what did they care who she loved? Frustrated, she stared into the darkness battling her inner demons and searching for the answers that always seemed to elude her.

Chapter 11

"Lieutenant Gray. W e meet again." The predatory gleam in his eye was unmistakable.

Jillian was led into the cold cinderblock room containing only a metal table and two chairs that faced each other on either side. She clutched her beret in her left hand. The pounding of her heart thundered through her, hammering on the inside of her skull. The guard stepped back outside and pulled the door shut with a loud clack. Honeycutt stood on the far side of the room alone.

"Have a seat." Jillian hesitated. Something about this meeting was definitely all bad, but having no other choice, she complied. "Chief Martin will be along a bit later, but I thought we might as well go ahead." The feral smile he directed at her sent a cold trickle of sweat down Jillian's spine.

"So, let's get started, shall we?" Jillian stared silently. Her mind worked furiously, fed by a racing pulse and jangling nerves. She hadn't been able to talk to Julie.

Ever since she and Devon got back three days before it seemed as if Julie had just vanished. Jillian knew that couldn't be good because Julie would have said something if she was being transferred. No, something wasn't right. They had her, and now from the looks of her surroundings, they had Jillian too.

For the next three hours, Martin barked questions, demanded answers and spat lies at the lieutenant. Every so often, he would threaten to throw her in the stockade, convene a courts martial trial, and have her imprisoned if she continued resisting his investigation. Jillian repeatedly told him that she couldn't give him answers she didn't know. On and on the questioning went in a seemingly endless loop until the door behind her opened unexpectedly and Martin entered the room. After glancing at Jillian, he cocked his head toward the door, and the two investigators left the room for a few minutes.

Jillian leaned forward to prop her elbows on her knees and hold her head in her hands. Her predicament seemed hopeless. This guy was determined to charge her with whatever he could. She wondered about the affidavit he kept referring to. Who had they questioned? Julie? That seemed likely based upon all of the information Honeycutt seemed to have. Who else knew as much about her? Devon did, but she would have told Jillian in the last couple of days. Wouldn't she?

Damn, I'm tired. He's got me really thinking crazy thoughts.

Investigator Martin took the chair at the end of the table when the two men returned. Jillian sensed tension between the two men. Honeycutt pulled a chair next to the straight backed metal one that she was seated in. The scent of his cheap cologne mixed with sweat hung around him in the air, making Jillian's stomach roll.

He deliberately pulled a folder from his briefcase and leaned toward her until their faces were inches apart. Jillian struggled to keep her face neutral.

"To hear others tell it, you're quite the lady killer, is that right? I have a signed affidavit from one of your former girlfriends telling how you seduced her." His icy cold voice made Jillian shiver. "In fact, she says you are somewhat of a playgirl, quite a few conquests, I hear."

Jillian clenched her fists and forced herself to return the stare, but did not answer. What did you do to Jules, you piece of shit? Honeycutt could see her jaw clenching as she glared back at him.

"Oh, am I getting to the heart of things?" An evil grin spread across his face for a second, then vanished again. He reached for an envelope in the folder with a pudgy hand and extracted photos, sliding them across the table in front of Jillian. "Recognize the woman in these photographs with you?"

Reluctantly, Jillian dropped her eyes to look at the photos in front of her. The images were of her and Devon standing in what appeared to be the window of their room, wrapped in each other's arms and in one sharing a kiss. Honeycutt sneered at her now, "Why I believe that might be Lieutenant James," his tone was mocking, threatening.

Nearly four hours of relentless badgering had her emotions on the brink of collapse. The visual evidence of Honeycutt's complete agenda shattered her tattered control. Rage overtaking her, Jillian launched out of the chair toward the shocked investigator.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

In the next second she had a fistful of his lapels. Honeycutt scrambled backward, knocking his chair over and losing his balance. Jillian released her grip and he fell to the floor.

She stood over him, fists clenched, "SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

Martin intervened. "That's enough!" Stepping between the two of them, he pushed Jillian away. She was breathing hard and ready to strike the fat man when he stood up again. Martin pushed her back with a hand on her chest.

Red-faced, Honeycutt straightened his tie, hissing, "Sit down, Lieutenant."

Martin rounded on him, "I suggest you sit as well, Chief." The command was followed, but Jillian could see Honeycutt seething.

Martin picked up the chair and stood next to it's arm as she sat, in case she had another outburst. Jillian realized that this had gone terribly wrong and she frantically tried to think of what she could do to fix it. No, I'm done. I probably screwed Devon, too. That realization made her stomach flip. She leaned over with her elbows on her knees and stared at the floor. The investigators watched her silently, knowing that they had broken her. All they needed now was a statement; time was on their side.

Martin spoke, "Can I get you a coke or coffee, lieutenant?" She shook her head without looking up.

"W hat do you want?" Jillian heard herself asking. She was too tired to fight them anymore.

"W e only want you to tell us the truth." Martin's voice was calm. "I can't help if I don't know the truth."

"Okay," Jillian agreed in a defeated tone, "but I'll only talk to you." Honeycutt sniffed, Martin motioned for him to step out.

He pulled the other chair in front of Jillian and said softly, "Whenever you're ready."

Jillian thought about her options and what she could do to keep Devon from getting dragged through the mud. That was the only thing that mattered now, protecting her. She realized that they had tipped their hand in revealing that they had made a deal with Julie by accepting that she was some kind of innocent victim. Fine, so be it. Then she looked at the picture on the table again and noticed that from the angle of the photo, she was the only one you could see clearly.

She picked them up to examine them more closely to be sure. Jillian made her decision right then and there. She took a deep breath and began.

"First, I'd like to say that Lieutenant Marks was right, she didn't initiate any intimate contact between us that was my doing." Sitting upright and meeting Martin's stare she continued, "As far as your partner's mention of Lieutenant James, she is completely innocent. You can't blame her for having the bad luck to be assigned to my room."

Martin narrowed his eyes, watching her intently. She stared expressionlessly back.

"Lieutenant," he sighed heavily, "you are saying that you made unwanted sexual advances towards both women?"

"No. I'm saying that Lt. Marks did not initiate contact with me, I approached her. Lieutenant James and I have no relationship other than friends. I will put that in writing." There, it was done. That's the way it would have to stay.

Martin looked at the stoic young woman apparently prepared to accept whatever fate had in store. He had done the background investigation on her and knew that her family had disowned her, and now, here she was ready to take all of the heat to protect the other two. After 20 years of investigative experience Martin could read people, and he knew that Gray was not some kind of nut preying on innocent women. He knew that these were consensual encounters, and he wasn't going to turn this into something it wasn't. Truth was, he admired her loyalty and her intestinal fortitude. How ironic that she has all of the qualities that make a great officer, and the military doesn't want her.

"Fair enough, lieutenant." He rose to pull a sheet of paper and a pen and placed them in front of her. "So, for the record, you acknowledge violating the Uniform Code of Military Justice as relating to homosexual conduct, in the case of Lieutenant Marks, correct?"

"That's correct," Jillian's voice was rough.

"Ok, let me explain to you what that means." He leaned a hip on the table in front of her. "It means that because you have voluntarily admitted the offense on your own, without an actual complaint-"

"W hat do you mean no complaint? I thought that's why I was here."

"W ell, I don't think that Lieutenant Marks or James is going to be filing charges against you, so, I can offer you a general discharge."

Jillian looked up questioningly, she was certain that the penalty was going to be a court martial and dishonorable discharge, hell, maybe even time in the brig for going after Honeycutt.

Reading her puzzled expression, the senior investigator smiled, "I tend to reward honesty, not to mention strength of character, lieutenant. You could have made excuses, and wasted my time, or even tried to turn on your friends to save your own skin, but you didn't. I think that should count for something."

His face was suddenly kind and Jillian was grateful for his compassion. Heaving a shaking breath, she asked, "What about De-Lieutenant James?"

"That will depend upon her." Walking around the table he carefully sat in the adjoining chair. "Of course, you know she will be interviewed." Jillian winced. Martin leaned forward across the table towards the young woman, "There is no other way at this point."

Jillian knew that Devon would never go along with this solution. No way would she lie about their relationship, no matter what the threat of punishment was. She was too honest and much too stubborn. Jillian was also certain that Devon would try to stop her from accepting the responsibility for both of them, and her defiance might draw harsher treatment. You got her into this, with your lack of self control, now do something right for a change, Gray.

"Yes, there is a way, chief. You already have Lieutenant Mark's statement and mine. You have no proof of misconduct by Lieutenant James. I'm telling you there's nothing there. She has only been here a few months, and we're the only people she knows. Lieutenant Marks told you about me, right? If there was more to tell, don't you think she would have?"

Martin considered what Jillian was saying. She was right, they had the two they were looking at, and the major had spoken up on James' behalf. Why not close the book on this one? God knows they had too many open cases to handle already.

"Fair enough, lieutenant. I'll have someone come by to get you in the morning to start your separation paperwork. For what it's worth, you did the right thing."

Jillian stared blankly at Martin and said nothing.

Walking back to the barracks, alone with her thoughts, the realization of consequences seized control of Jillian with suffocating force. That dangerous part of her that always made her lash out and rebel is precisely what led to this place in her life, and there was no longer any point in trying to deny her own culpability. This was the Army. Regardless of the fact that the rules should be changed, they are the rules and she knew that coming in. So, you either play by them or if you must break them, do it discreetly.

Her damning inner voice chastised. "Discreet

not exactly in your vocabulary, is it Gray? Playing the field with casual encounters just to suit yourself, racking up the numbers is what got you noticed. Not to mention the hurt, how many broken hearts left in your wake?"

Finally, there was Devon. Devon stopped her dead in her tracks, captured her heart the instant she laid eyes on her, different in so many ways and so many levels. But she was so young and trusting and Julie was right, Jillian should have known better.

That's why she had to do the right thing. You're supposed to protect the people you love, at any cost. Better to cause her some pain now and save her greater heartache in the future. Do you love her enough to walk away?

Chapter 12

Late that afternoon, Devon was halfway across the quad walking west to the barracks, hoping Jillian was already there with some good news. The past few days had been relatively quiet, although Jillian was worried because nobody had seen Julie. That was eating at Devon, too. She couldn't shake the feeling inside that Julie was being less than truthful with her last week at lunch. But, it was Friday and they had plans for the weekend. Devon smiled at that thought. They needed a break. Two whole days away from their troubles, seemed to be just the ticket. That's what they needed a change of scenery.

Jillian was graduating in two weeks. Maybe the investigation would fall apart when she got transferred. Jillian was supposed to get her orders today for her permanent duty assignment. Devon was both excited and apprehensive at the prospect of finally knowing next turn their lives would take. She looked for Jillian at lunch and was disappointed when she didn't show. Devon assumed that was because she was getting her orders. She had no way of knowing that Jillian had spent the entire day being interrogated.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Devon hurried down the hall toward their room finding the door open, she heard voices inside that made her insides churn.

"

.and I didn't want to tell them, but I was so scared," as Devon entered the room, she saw Julie sitting next to Jillian on the couch. "When they asked about us in ROTC, I

panicked

they said they knew already, Jill," her voice had a desperate, pleading tone. Jillian's eyes met Devon's and she shook her head slightly indicating that Devon should not approach. Returning her soft gaze to Julie, Jillian said quietly, "It's okay, Jules."

Devon's eyes darted back and forth around the room, suddenly unable to focus on anything. The panic was creeping into her chest, pulling it tight around her lungs, constricting her breathing.

Julie continued, "Jill, you know I never wanted to hurt you, it's just

you know

my family

my father is an officer, I come from a military family. I can't hurt them."

She put her head in her hands and began to cry.

Devon's mind raced trying to read into the bits of the conversation she had just heard. Had Julie just admitted to Jill that she had turned her in? Julie is the snitch? I was right, she is saving her own ass, and now she wants absolution from Jillian, unbelievable. Incredibly, Devon saw Jillian gather the brunette in her arms with a comforting embrace.

The fiery blonde's control snapped, anger overtaking her, "Get the hell out of here!" she heard herself growl in a low, dangerous tone. Jillian closed her eyes and bowed her head in resignation to the scene that was about to unfold. She knew all too well her lover's passionate side, and she also knew that there was no point in trying to stop her. It would be like trying to stop the sunrise. Devon stalked across the room to stand in front of the two women seated on the couch. Julie spun around in a defensive reaction, ready to snap back, but when her green eyes met Devon's she recoiled from the frightening sight of eyes like razor sharp shards of blue glass.

"Get out," Devon repeated in a deadly tone, "First you turn Jillian in to CID, then you lie to me, now you have the nerve to come here and beg forgiveness?" Julie opened her mouth to speak, but had no words in the face of Devon's withering stare. Devon was right, she had tried to sugar coat it, explain herself to Jillian in a way that made it better, but Devon had a way of cutting right to the bone.

"Hear me," Devon's voice was eerily calm, "If you ever come near Jillian again, I will hurt you." Julie dropped her eyes from the icy laser stare and walked to the door. "You are pathetic," Devon seethed as she left.

Feeling her blood coursing hot through her veins, her head pounding, Devon stomped over to the door, slamming it closed, and then she spun on her heels, needing a target to release this rage. She pounded her fists against the wall locker and heard a primal cry escape her throat. Leaning open palmed on the locker she breathed deeply to regain control, finally dropping her head and pushing her forehead against the door with a low thump, she closed her eyes. At length, she felt hands lightly touch her shoulders then slide down her back and rest on her hips. Devon leaned back into Jillian's body allowing the tension to begin melting away. Jillian bent and nuzzled her neck, softly she spoke, "Nobody has ever defended me like that before."

Devon turned around to face her love. She smiled tenderly, reaching up to touch her chin, she replied, "I think that's part of what loving someone is about."

Jillian stared into the bright pools of blue devotion that were her lover's eyes, the purity of the trust made her chest physically ache. That kind of blind devotion would impair Devon's judgment if the investigators questioned her, and Jillian could not take that chance. She wanted to tell her the truth, but she just couldn't break this beautiful woman's heart, not tonight. Tomorrow they would come, she knew and Jillian would accept her fate, but she would not allow them to harm Devon.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, brushing her lips in the thick blonde hair on top of her head.

The lovers never got to have their weekend together. The following morning, an armed MP escorted Jillian to the CID headquarters for the final time.

Chapter 13

Devon woke to bright light and movement in the room. Sliding her arm across the mattress, she felt only the cold sheet beneath her palm. Squinting against the florescent glare, she saw Jillian packing. She cast a look over her shoulder in Devon's direction, "Sorry I woke you."

A feeling close to panic made Devon's knees falter when she stood and she sank back down onto the bunk. The sight of Jillian dressed in civilian clothes while she stuffed the last of her belongings into a worn leather suitcase was terrifying. "What are you doing?" She didn't even recognize her own voice.

The sound of the zipper closing was the only response Devon got. She watched Jillian silently move around the rest of the room, opening drawers and lockers, checking to ensure she had everything. Devon closed the distance but stopped a foot away.

Jillian always loved the way Devon looked in the morning. Her blond curls messy and her eyes still hazy from sleep. She ran her eyes over the length of that gorgeous form, knowing the strength and softness beneath the faded t-shirt and shorts. A smile pulled at her lips remembering the first time they met and Devon had changed into a nearly identical outfit. She knew right then she loved her. Right now, the sight of that love reflecting in her blue eyes was enough to tear her heart to shreds.

Jillian shook her head to push away the thoughts. No. She knew what she had to do. She sidestepped past Devon to close her other bag. "They'll be here in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" The fear in Devon's voice was like a dagger in Jillian's heart. "Who? What are you talking about, Jill?" Jillian couldn't look at her.

"Martin's man will be here. After I fill out the paperwork, they'll take me to the airport later on."

Devon tasted bile in her throat as she began to realize what was going on. Still, she needed to hear it. It was like a train wreck; she couldn't look away from the impending impact.

"Tell me."

Jillian raised her eyes to meet Devon's and the sight of her blue eyes swimming in tears made her voice catch in her throat, "It's over, Dev. I can't do this anymore."

Images of wet urgent kisses, cries of pleasure, the feel of Jillian's body moving against hers through the night tumbled across Devon's mind. "But last

night

I

you knew?"

Jillian dropped her eyes to her shoes and nodded. "I know I'm an ass," she shrugged, "I just wanted one more night."

Devon couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So, last night was what

a goodbye fuck? And then you were going to leave today without a word?"

Jillian didn't respond. Suddenly Devon was standing in front of her. Jillian raised her eyes again to look at her. She owed her that, at least. Devon's face was inches away. Kissing close. Her lips were still swollen from their passionate night. The blue eyes blazing into hers with intensity that she knew she would never forget.

"Tell me you don't want me and I'll step back." Devon whispered.

Jillian quivered inside with the effort it took not to sweep Devon into her arms and hold onto her forever. She clenched her fists at her sides. Her eyes dropped to that perfect mouth a breath away. She knew Devon could see her fighting for control.

Bam, Bam, Bam Sharp banging on the door made both women jump. Jillian knew she should move, but her legs didn't seem to want to obey her mind.

Without warning Devon drove her hands into Jillian's hair, pulling her in for a desperate kiss that made Jillian's knees weak. Bam, Bam, Bam. It was louder this time.

"Coming!" Jillian shouted. She gripped Devon in one last tight embrace. When she forced herself to step away her mask was back in place. She grabbed her bags and strode to the door. An MP was on the other side when she opened it. Devon stood shell-shocked watching her go.

Jillian thought her legs would buckle but she resolutely walked out, certain if she didn't keep going she would lose her nerve. At the end of the hall, Jillian turned around one last time. "Goodbye Devon." With that, she was gone.

Chapter 14

April, 1983

Devon stepped out of the terminal of the Baltimore-Washington International Airport, her duffle bag balanced on her right shoulder, another black duffle she carried by the handles in her left hand. Dropping the smaller bag, she waved for a taxi, which pulled to the curb in front of her. The driver exited and placed her bags in the trunk, opening the rear passenger door for the lieutenant to enter. It was unseasonably cold and a steady drizzle was coming down, making the day feel even chillier than the actual temperature.

"W here to, Miss?"

"Ft. Meade. Is it very far?" she inquired.

"No, Miss, only about twenty minutes." The driver replied.

Nodding, Devon stared out the window at the passing landscape. She rode in silence alone in her thoughts until they reached their destination. The yellow cab stopped at the MP guard shack at the base entrance. Devon handed her orders to the young man on duty, who snapped a smart salute upon recognizing the First Lieutenant bars on her collar. She had graduated at the top of her class and was rewarded with the increase in rank, and with the plum assignment she was now undertaking.

"Good evening, Ma'am."

She nodded to the soldier, returning the salute.

"You'll be in the M.I. officer building, ma'am," speaking to the driver, he continued, "Follow the road around to the east a mile and a half, past the First Army buildings, make your first right, and the buildings you want will be at the end of the road." With that, he saluted the lieutenant as the taxi drove on.

The driver pulled up in front of the brick building labeled 'single officer's quarters'. Devon exited the cab, settled the bill and retrieved her bags from the trunk. After stopping at the desk for her room assignment, she climbed the stairs and located her door. Dropping the black bag to insert the key into the lock, Devon couldn't help but think of the last time she arrived at her duty station, meeting Jillian as she made her first clumsy entry to the room. The memory made her smile.

Alas, this time, the room was private, empty. Dropping her bags on the floor just inside, she closed the door behind her before walking to the bed nearest the door and flopping onto her back. It had been four months and she had only spoken to Jill once on the phone. Jillian had insisted that she not call again because it was too dangerous. Devon sent letters every day, careful to mail them off post, but she had no idea if she was getting them. She had no other address but her parent's. She stared at the ceiling in the silence, feeling lonelier than she ever had in her life, wondering where Jillian was and praying she was okay.

#

Rising at 0500, so that she could go for her morning run, Devon laced up her sneakers and headed out. It was a cool, crisp morning and her breath was visible in the pale illumination from the lamp posts that lined the sidewalks. The sun was not yet on the horizon as she began stretching in preparation for her jog. She felt worn out mentally from battling her emotions, but looking forward to the first day, knowing that she needed to work in order to keep her mind occupied.

As she ran her mind drifted to the last phone conversation with Jillian.

"Hello?" The sweet melodic tone of Jillian's voice washed into Devon's consciousness like a gentle ocean wave lapping at the shore. For a moment she was unable to speak, her emotion closing her throat.

"Hello?" Jillian's voice had a slight edge as she asked again.

"Hi baby," Devon could barely get the words around the lump in her throat.

"Hey," Jillian couldn't hide her affection, "how are ya?"

"Good," she heard the softness in Jill's voice, revealing the feelings she was trying to hide.

"Are you okay?"

Jillian took in a shaky breath. "I'm fine

you don't have to worry."

"I still do, I told you it comes with the territory when you love someone." Devon's voice was low and heavy with feeling.

She heard Jillian draw in a deep breath and exhale loudly, then almost inaudibly, "Shit."

"Jill?"

Jillian wiped the back of her hand over her cheek, where silent tears flowed from her eyes. She gathered her emotions before speaking, trying not to give herself away. "You shouldn't be saying things like that." She finally managed, knowing it was entirely possible that her phone was tapped. CID could be listening to them right now and Devon should not be taking chances.

"Things like what, the truth?" Devon countered.

"You know what I'm talking about, Dev."

"Yeah, well, where you're concerned, I don't think very rationally, I'm afraid."

"Are you doing well? How soon is graduation?" Jillian steered the conversation back to neutral round.

"Six weeks. The major says I'll get my next assignment orders soon." Devon replied.

Although she knew Jillian didn't want her to, she had to ask, "Jill, what about us? I've never felt so lost, I'm dying without you."

The words tore holes in Jillian's soul, but she resolutely maintained her composure, knowing that she had to release Devon. She spoke the hardest words of her life, "Devon, listen to me. There is no us, not anymore."

"Jill, don't-"

Jillian interrupted her, "You know it's true." Devon was silent now. "Devon, seriously I made my choice, the military just isn't the place for me anymore. I thought I believed in all the honor and everything, but

now

," she searched for words, "I want the best for you, Dev, I really do, but our lives are moving in different directions."

Devon felt the words slicing her heart like a knife through butter. Her tears began flowing. "Please, Jillian," she begged.

Devon's pain was killing her. Jillian stopped to steady her breathing again, and sat because her knees felt as though they would give out.

"Please don't call here again, Devon. Do yourself a favor and start fresh at your new assignment. Move on." It felt like somebody else was saying the words. She could hear Devon crying on the other end of the line. Jillian felt physically sick. "I'm gonna go now."

"I'm not hanging up." Devon choked. "Please Jillian, don't do this. I know you love me-" she heard a click and then a dial tone.

Devon held the phone in front of her face, staring at the buzzing receiver for a moment. Then she pressed it to her forehead as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

Primal sobs escaped her throat until drained and exhausted she returned the phone to the cradle. Pushing her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, she walked blindly back to her room. Inside she stripped off her clothes, climbed naked into the cold, lonely bed and cried herself to sleep.

That call had been two months ago. After landing in Baltimore the night before Devon took a chance and called Jillian's parent's house from a payphone at the airport. A recording said the number had been disconnected with no forwarding number listed. Move on.

Now, working on her third mile, her thoughts wildly racing, Devon still couldn't quite believe how everything had collapsed so suddenly. One day they were talking about their next assignments and their futures, and the next day CID was interrogating Jillian. Devon had heard that once they started investigating someone, it never really ended, unless you agreed to a discharge or worked a deal. Not until they got a confession or a guilty verdict in a court martial trial. Devon supposed that everything had just been too much for her. So she just left.

But then again, maybe Julie was right, maybe Jillian had never loved her, maybe she was just another in a long list of conquests that was expendable once the challenge was over. That might explain how she could just walk away from what they had that easily. Julie's words echoed in her head, you don't know her like I do. Maybe that was the brutal truth. The thought made Devon's chest ache wondering how she could have been so wrong.

Unfortunately, the goodbye left Devon alone to deal with her own pain and unanswered questions. At first Devon thought she would never recover, but as time went on she was feeling stronger. Most importantly, the experience had given Devon a new understanding of the realities of life.

The painful lesson of Jillian Gray was one Devon James would carry forever. As Jillian always said, 'Love makes you weak and careless.' Devon couldn't agree more. That trusting naïve little virgin was gone. She was in a new city where no one knew her, with a new job that was the envy of every officer in her job classification. It was time to quit worrying about what she couldn't change.

Fuck it. Devon broke into a sprint, pushing her legs relentlessly for the last hundred yards of her five mile run, hoping to purge the final remains of the frustration and pain from her body.

Chapter 15

After showering and putting on her dress greens, Devon checked her look one last time in the mirror. Satisfied that her uniform was perfect, she snugged her beret over her wavy hair and headed outside in to the bright sunlight. It was 0615 as she rounded the bend in the sidewalk about 400 yards from the housing building, getting her first glimpse of her destination. The A framed main structure and large operations tower in the middle gave the appearance of every other drab run of the mill government building. But she knew better. This was the Vatican of military intelligence, The National Security Agency NSA. So, this is the puzzle palace. Devon had never seen such a huge complex and she wondered if she'd every find her way around in there.

The entrance in the main foyer bustled with activity. Just inside the massive glass double doors, in the middle of the entryway floor was a huge rendering of the unit insignia of the NSA. She shivered with excitement. Devon remembered the major telling her that this assignment was special but until this moment, she didn't really appreciate what special meant. Approaching what appeared to be an information window; Devon pulled a copy of her orders from her briefcase and slid them through the opening at the bottom of the glass partition to the serious looking ensign behind the counter.

"ID, please?" the young man said flatly.

Devon pushed her ID through the slot. He nodded and turned away from her, punching information into a computer terminal. A few moments later he returned to the window to slide her documents back through. In addition Devon saw several new ones which were stamped with today's date. He pointed to his right.

"Go to the next door and give these to the person at that window, they'll get your picture taken and set you up with your security badge, lieutenant." Smiling now, he added, "Have a nice day."

Devon returned his smile, "You too."

Thirty minutes later she had completed the process and was attempting to make sense of the maze of hallways to find her work area. She found a marine guard who regarded her seriously dropping his eyes to her picture ID and then raising them back to her face. Apparently satisfied, he asked, "My I help you, ma'am?"

"Yes, I'm looking for the signal ops center?"

Tilting his head in the direction beyond her, he said, "Halfway down the hall you'll find another security desk on your right, they'll direct you from there, ma'am."

Halfway down the hall was a bit overwhelming. The main hallway in the NSA building was the longest single indoor hallway anywhere, a full 980 feet in length. The combined headquarters and operations buildings spanned a total of 1,912,000 square feet. As described, Devon located the entrance to the operations building at the midpoint of the massive hallway. After being issued additional security badges, Devon made her way up three flights of stairs and finally arrived at her destination. She buzzed and a female came to the small window. Devon held her photo ID under her chin and waited until she heard the click of a lock disengaging and the door opened for her.

"Good morning, Lieutenant James, we've been expecting you," the woman looked at her watch and laughed, "Not quite this early, though."

"I like to start early," Devon returned.

"Good, I expect the major will like that. I'm Shirley," she said as she continued to walk. "I won't be working directly with you, but I'll be around enough to give you a little help until you get adjusted around here."

"Thanks."

"The code for the keypad on that door I just let you in gets changed monthly," They reached another door, "and so does this one." Shirley punched the keypad and they entered a small office area with two desks.

"That's your desk," she indicated the one on the left, "the other is Petty Officer Baxter's. She comes in at seven, so I'm sure she's around here somewhere. She'll take care of you. So, pull up a chair and relax. Welcome." With that she disappeared back through the door. Devon checked her watch. 0710.

She stepped from the brightly lit outer office into the subdued lighting of the operation center. Six military personnel from multiple branches of the service sat pouring over data or closely watching computer monitors.

"Lieutenant on deck!" someone called out curtly as they all stood. Making a quick visual assessment of the people in the room, she observed an Army sergeant and a specialist, a Navy seaman, and an Air Force airman first class. Immediately, she waved them back to their seats.

"As you were, carry on." She surveyed the dimly lit, windowless room with a low drop ceiling, observing the computer and radar type equipment that lined the walls. A printer in the corner spat out a continuous stream of connected paper. Every few moments, she heard a tone which caused everyone to snap around to their monitor and pull their headsets back onto their ears. After typing and reading the monitors for a few minutes, they all took off the headsets and resumed their circle in the center of the room chatting and laughing.

She spotted a female wearing Navy blacks leaning over a desk conferring with the Army Spec4. The woman turned as the others stood and Devon saw she was a Naval Chief Petty Officer, who was the NCO (Non Commissioned Officer) in charge of the shift. Ann Baxter was a ten year Navy veteran, who was in her tenth month assigned to this unit. She was shorter than Devon by several inches and had brown curly hair and warm brown eyes set deep in her pleasant round face.

"Let me introduce you to the alpha shift, Ma'am." Devon nodded. Baxter stepped into the center of the small dimly lit space, "Listen up people. This is our new commander, Lieutenant James." Devon could read what could only be characterized as mild hostility in their eyes as they looked at her. Rough group.

"Lieutenant," Baxter looked at her, "did you have anything you wanted to say to the crew?"

Devon had no idea what to say. "Well," she looked at each one in the eye as she spoke,

"I'll be spending time with you to learn the operations and become proficient with the equipment. I understand the unit's mission. I want to understand how your job fits into that mission. That way, I can relate and support you in whatever way I can. I won't ask anyone to do anything I wouldn't do. I look forward to working with you all." The tone sounded and her audience was lost again in their work.

She and Baxter walked back into the office area where both of their desks were along the same wall and sat. "Too formal?" Devon asked.

She shrugged, "Na, they're fine. They expect you to outline your objectives. But, trust me; we are a good group, lieutenant. No finer signal Intel people in the world than in that room." The pride in her voice was evident. She conveyed directness in her intelligent brown eyes and carried herself with confidence that Devon admired at once.

"I believe you. I intend to learn as quickly as I can so that I'll be worthy of your praise some day, too, Baxter. Until then, you are my teacher. I respect the fact that you have been doing this quite a bit longer than I, so I expect that you'll keep me in line.

Devon smiled slightly and met the petty officers steady gaze with her intense blue eyes. Baxter didn't look away, and even managed a barely visible smile at her new boss.

When she first heard about the new lieutenant who was being assigned to their unit directly out of school, Baxter made no bones about the fact that she had no desire to train some wet behind the ears snot nosed college kid. She knew the drill-she would run the unit, do all the work and the new lieutenant would get all the credit. If anyone screwed up, well that would be her fault. Baxter was all too experienced with the natural order of things.

Devon caught the hint of a smile from Baxter, recognizing it for the small victory it was. She decided to press her advantage, "What?" A blond eyebrow pushed toward her hairline with the question. A large smile split her face.

Scrutinizing this new officer threw Baxter off. "Well, lieutenant," She hesitated, "May I be frank?"

"You are my senior enlisted person, I would very much like for us to have that relationship. In fact, I insist on it." Devon replied.

"It's just that I'm not used to officers deferring to enlisted NCO's. You don't come off with the arrogance I was expecting." As soon as the words were out, Baxter cringed. She waited for some kind of rebuke for that comment. She didn't get one.

She didn't know what she had expected next, but not this. The lieutenant laughed out loud.

"W ell, Baxter, let's just hope you'll slap me at the first sign of arrogance on my part." Her eyes conveyed an open honesty that seemed to cut right through Baxter's cynical assumptions about who the new shift commander was. Her lack of arrogance, in fact her very approachable demeanor was refreshing to say the least. Baxter found herself liking Lieutenant James immediately, in spite of herself.

The unit was a 24/7 operation that required four shifts of personnel who held one of the few military occupations that was never on stand down or 'peacetime mode'. Their main function was direction finding, meaning in a nutshell that the analysts and cryptographers would find a signal that they felt was important, and call Devon's unit to find out where it was coming from. Intelligence work never took time off, especially in the elite intelligence center of the U.S. government. This was just the kind of perfect assignment to allow Devon to throw her entire energy into work, eliminating the painful downtime of a now non-existent personal life.

Baxter was surprised that the lieutenant was always seated at one of the computer terminals when she arrived each morning, engrossed in learning. Usually, she remained working with the evening shift long after the petty officer left for the day. Her people noticed too. They were quickly gaining respect for their new commander, who listened to their recommendations before formulating her own opinions. Of course, her decisions were final, but they had a sense that she deferred to their expertise and this was an important point.

Three weeks into her new job, Devon was becoming familiar with most of the operational positions in the unit and her team responded to her hands on leadership style. She relinquished her chair to the airman first class and moved to her left beside the army specialist who manned what the group nicknamed the 'quick draw'

antenna. This position was the only antenna that the operator could actually track live targets. An experienced operator could flip around frequencies listening for the telltale warble given off by Soviet bloc jets flying in the no fly areas along the border of Russia and Eastern Europe. Pilots essentially playing cat and mouse games with multi-million dollar jets.

"Now this is the position I want to become an expert at running," she smiled brightly at the brown haired man about her age that was the operator for the night.

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he slid off his chair to make room for her in front of the monitor. Devon stayed at that position for the entire shift, becoming fairly adept at capturing her target regularly by the end of their time.

"Lieutenant, you're catching on fast. You'll be trackin' MIG's in no time." The specialist complimented her.

He hadn't missed the heart stopping blue eyes set in a very attractive face that became beautiful when she smiled. But, officers and enlisted people don't fraternize, he reminded himself. Still, the LT was easy on the eyes, so he was sure that he wouldn't mind being her teacher for as long as she needed.

Devon stood to stretch painfully feeling the effects of sitting glued to the monitor for hours. "Thanks for being patient with me," she nodded and then walked to her office.

"My pleasure, ma'am." The decidedly suggestive tone hung in the air as he watched her walk across the room. She halted her stride for just a beat, looking sideways at Baxter before continuing on to the office. His less than professional tone drew a laser stare of rebuke from the petty officer, and she would deal with him. Baxter followed the lieutenant into the office, fearful of her reaction to the inappropriate comment from the young man.

Sitting in the empty chair in front of Devon's desk, she offered, "Lieutenant, I apologize for that."

"W hat?" she met her senior enlisted woman's eyes.

"Henderson's comments were uncalled for, I'll deal with him." Her businesslike tone covered her own embarrassment over the infraction.

"I had no doubt that you would handle it

Ann. Is it alright that I use your first name?"

"Yes, of course, ma'am."

"W ell, to tell you the truth, I'm not all that comfortable with the ma'am thing, especially with you. I'd like it if you called me Devon, at least when we're not among the troops."

"Yes, ma'am-Devon." Ann couldn't hold back her smile. For an officer, this one is alright.

Chapter 15

Devon and Ann were working in their office one day in early June. Ann was going over scheduling trying to work out coverage for the summer while allowing as much leave time as possible for her people who were taking trips with their families. Devon was pouring over recently received data from the unit's previous months tracking.

During the past few months Devon had begun working on a theory regarding the shift in threat assessments and incoming intelligence data. She noticed an increasing number of location coordinate fixes in and around the Middle East, in addition to the usual Eastern Europe/Russian locations. That intrigued her because she had always had an interest in the Mid East. In fact, she received her undergraduate degree in history and political science with an emphasis on Middle Eastern studies. Recently world events had begun to heat up in that region; Lebanon, Syria and Iran were becoming problematic world players, as were the terrorist groups loosely related to those governments.

In the spring the U.S. Embassy in Beirut had been attacked by a suicide bomber who drove a van loaded with 2,000 pounds of explosives into the complex and detonated it. Seventeen Americans lost their lives, including one marine guard, three army trainers, and the entire CIA Middle East contingent.

Devon couldn't believe that there had been no warning, something that could have indicated danger and possibly saved lives. She knew her history regarding the American government's historical reluctance to react to emerging threats until it was too late. In fact, signal intelligence officers working in what was the predecessor to NSA had intercepted messages indicating that the Japanese intended to strike U.S. bases prior to Pearl Harbor, and were dismissed by their superiors.

She was certain if she cataloged the data from their work that a pattern would begin to emerge as to the locations of potential targets and just maybe the whereabouts of some of the responsible parties. At the very least, it was possible to identify a starting point for more in depth investigation by intelligence officers.

Surely, though, especially after losing so many people, the CIA was aggressively pursuing every available option. But, then again, you never knew when seemingly unimportant information offered additional pieces to the puzzle that may have previously gone unnoticed.

She looked at her second in command, "Ann, does anyone ever ask for our fix location information? I mean proactively, not when we already know we have an issue, or target we are looking for."

"Not that I'm aware. You mean like looking for patterns in the fixes?"

"Precisely." Devon nodded.

"I don't think so, at least nobody has ever asked us to examine the relationships, and to my knowledge no one comes in to get the printouts." Ann responded.

On a whim, Devon punched the intercom, and buzzed Janice the division secretary.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Janice responded.

"Jan, could you see if you can track down a number for me?"

"Certainly, ma'am."

"Over at CIA, I'm looking for an old friend from college, Alexandra Sommers. She should be assigned to their Mideast division."

"I'll get right on it for you."

Less than five minutes later, the intercom buzzed and Janice informed her that she had located the number. "Wow, you are efficient." Devon said appreciatively.

"Just doing my job," Devon could hear Janice smiling, "Would you like me to try the call for you?"

"That would be great."

Devon thought now about her old friend. Alex was always ready to engage her in a debate about world affairs, historical questions and a myriad of 'what if'

scenarios that the two young women always seemed to be dreaming up. She was from W est Virginia, just a few hours' drive from Pittsburgh, and their common interests made them fast friends from their freshman year on.

She hadn't talked to Alex in almost two years, since she left for basic training and Alex took the job in Washington. So much had happened to Devon since then.

She felt like a different person, and she wondered how the Agency assignment might have affected Alex. She felt a shiver of excitement when Janice announced that she had Agent Sommers on the line.

"Alex, is that you?" Devon could hardly contain the excitement in her voice.

"Dev? Oh my God! I can't believe it." Her voice was warm with affection, "How long has it been?"

"Almost two years, I think." The smooth tenor of Alex's familiar voice raised Devon's spirits for the first time in months.

"So, where are you?" Her friend asked.

"You won't believe it." She paused a beat, "NSA."

"No way!" Alex squealed with excitement. "That is unbelievable. W e have to have dinner tonight! Are you free?"

"Absolutely, and even if I wasn't, I'd break my plans to meet you. Tell me where and when."

"I know a great little place near George Washington U. Take the M to the Foggy Bottom stop, and I'll meet you there. How's seven o'clock?"

"Seven it is. See you then, Alex." Excitement coursed through her at the thought of spending the evening with her old friend.

#

Alexandra Sommers arrived with much anticipation at the Foggy Bottom Metro stop in the fading light of the warm June evening. She wore a sleeveless pale yellow shirt, blue jeans just snug enough to show off her shapely hips and well worn brown loafers. Her shoulder length dark hair framed a cute round face. A light dusting of freckles across her cheek bones that lent a youthful quality to her face offset by deep dark brown eyes. She wore almost no make-up, except sometimes when she was working a case that required a more mature look. Not that she needed any, her smooth clear skin and expressive eyes gave her a natural wholesome beauty that required no assistance.

Alex checked her watch, noting it was five minutes to seven. While she waited on the platform she thought about her college friend minutes away on the metro.

She hadn't seen Devon since she joined the Army and she wondered if the experience was everything that her friend had hoped it would be. She thought back to their days of idealistic dreaming in school, and how they had been so sure that honesty and justice really did rule the world. They fiercely debated politics and social justice with their classmates, frustrated by their peers' lack of interest in learning about the real issues in the world. She was pulled from her memories by the sound of the approaching train.

Devon stood at the door of the train as it approached the stop watching Alex on the platform. She looked exactly the same as Devon remembered her, cute as ever, and Devon felt a rush of adrenaline coarse through her body seeing her friend. As she stepped from the train, she heard Alex laugh out loud when she saw her. In the next moment, the two women embraced fully and then Alex leaned back to look at her friend. Her blond hair was shorter, but still just as thick and wavy and her eyes were still that unbelievable intense blue. Her heart skipped a beat, suddenly feeling the familiar excitement with Devon so near. She remembered how shy she had been in school and how she would have said yes if Devon had only asked her

They smiled at each other, neither one speaking, their love for one another unspoken in their eyes. Alex hugged Devon tightly again. They held hands as they turned to walk toward an area of trendy shops and restaurants about a mile away.

The two women engaged in nonstop conversation during dinner, combining reminiscence with new stories and information catching both up on the other's life up to this night. Devon was riveted by Alex's explanations of her work at the Agency, although the brunette had to edit out the classified portions of the stories, they were intriguing none the less. Both women noted appreciatively the other's obvious growth and accomplishments.

"I can see that you love what you do, Alex. That's wonderful." She was proud of her friend.

"W ho would have ever thought the two of us would be some kind of super spies, huh?" Alex laughed between bites of food.

"Oh, not me," Devon balked, "I'm a soldier. I might try a few new tricks, but when it gets right down to it, that's what makes me tick."

Alex admired the success that Devon had made of her military career thus far, but she could sense an undercurrent of unease in her that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She hadn't missed the fact that Devon avoided talking about herself personally this evening.

"Are you okay, really Dev?" The genuine concern in her eyes was unmistakable.

Devon's blue eyes were guarded, "Sure, why do you ask?"

"Your eyes look sad." Alex searched her friend's eyes searching for answers to her unspoken concerns.

Devon trusted Alex like her own sister, but wasn't sure how much she wanted to reveal at this point. After all, she was in a classified government assignment too.

She realized then how much the experience with Jillian and the CID investigation had changed her. It saddened her to withhold such a big event in her life from her old friend, but a part of her wanted to keep that painful memory sealed. Besides, she was eager to discuss her ideas about sharing data with Alex. Her personal drama could wait for another day.

"I'm fine, Alex." She said, steering the conversation away from herself again, "I did want to run something work-related by you, though."

She explained what she had noticed when comparing the data from her unit. Devon could hardly contain the excitement in her voice as she outlined what she thought the possibilities could be for adding this information to other sources of intelligence gathered. They both knew that governmental agencies hated to share information, even though the possibilities were endless. Getting the right person to listen to them was going to be the key.

"I really think that the information could be invaluable, Alex." Devon finished.

Alex looked at Devon in wonder, "You always were the smart one."

"Naa, anyway, I figured that you would know what to do with the information." Devon shrugged.

"Can I come by your office and see an example so that I'll know better what we would be looking at?"

"Sure, you have a top secret clearance; I'll just have to arrange a visitor's pass for you. You want to come tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I do. How's ten thirty?"

Devon smiled, "Perfect."

Chapter 16

Devon and Alex decided that they should examine the data on their own and attempt to establish validity to their proposal for adding the Intel gathered from Devon's unit to the Agency's information. It was a bit tricky for Alex not to inadvertently divulge sensitive information as they worked, but she was amazed by the correlation between what the two agencies were working on.

After about a month of compiling data and building their case, the two women believed that they had enough to take to their respective superiors. Devon made an appointment with her Colonel and Alex with the Senior Agent in Charge of Middle Eastern Operations. Both men were impressed by the insightful work done by the Lieutenant and Special Agent, but Alex's boss at the CIA seemed reluctant to begin sharing more information with another Agency. He was of the old school mentality; loathe revealing what he had with anyone. Never mind that it was just that kind of thinking that usually prevented governmental agencies from becoming more effective.

Colonel Brinkman, the officer in charge of the Intelligence Center, regarded Devon appreciatively as he listened to her ideas while reading over the data that she had compiled. "This kind of forward thinking could get you fast tracked for Captain, Lieutenant James." He smiled at the young woman. "W hat made you do all of this?"

Blushing slightly, Devon responded, "Well, sir, I have had a great interest in Mid East affairs, ever since I was in college. When the Embassy was bombed in April, I was so angry-as everyone was-but I just started thinking about our fixes and how they might reveal things that we needed to know. After all, they are fixes of communication signals. It just seemed logical."

She added, "I couldn't have fit it all together without Agent Sommers, though."

Brinkman studied her closely, but he saw nothing in her face but complete sincerity. Not a hint of cockiness or arrogance. He believed the lieutenant truly wanted nothing more than to help the mission.

The colonel appreciated the fact that she had come to him with this information, another indication of her lack of personal agenda. Already he had gotten rave reviews regarding her work ethic. Her troops seemed to love her, and sitting here with her personally, he knew that she certainly made a positive impression on him. Command material, he thought.

"W ell, you certainly have my attention, lieutenant. I would like you to keep cataloging your findings, and keep me advised. I can honestly say that I'm not sure what exactly we can do, I expect that might be up to someone above my pay grade, but I think this is outstanding work."

"Thank you, sir."

Devon rushed back to her office buzzing with excitement. She couldn't wait to see Alex and give her the news that her boss wanted to pursue this work. The thrill of accomplishing something that was truly worthwhile was too much to contain. Pumping her fist in the air she whispered, "Yesss!" Sharing this with Alex only made the feeling that much sweeter.

Chapter 17

That night, Devon took Alex out for a celebratory dinner where they toasted to their preliminary success. After all, it was huge to get bureaucrats to even think about listening to a unique idea. Alex was a bit disappointed that her boss was still resistant to their plan, but she was thrilled that Devon's chain of command was listening.

"Dev, I'm so happy that your colonel is interested in your work." She beamed at Devon.

"Our work," Devon corrected her, basking in Alex's support.

"Yes, but it was your insight and forward thinking that got everything started and you should be very proud."

"W ell, nothing has changed yet, so we'll just wait and see if something real comes out of this before we get too excited."

Devon knew all too well the improbability of anything actually coming of this, although she hoped they could make a real contribution. She smiled brightly at Alex, supremely content to be sharing this with one of the few people in her life who truly mattered to her heart. For the first time in months, she realized that she was enjoying herself. Fleetingly, she thought she might ask Alex to go out for a drink after dinner.

"I got news this morning," Devon heard and edge in Alex's voice and she had sensed that her friend was a bit distracted this evening. She looked at her questioningly, waiting for her to explain.

"You know that the CIA took a huge hit in the Embassy bombing back in April." Devon nodded. "I was given orders this morning. I am to be reassigned to the Middle East contingent, effective immediately. They want to get the unit back up and running ASAP."

"W ow." Devon managed, staring at her friend. "How soon do you have to leave?"

"I have to report to the Beirut office in two weeks, I'll be on leave until then."

Devon felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Things were extremely volatile right now over there; a civil war was raging in Lebanon that was the reason for the international peacekeeping force on the ground there. Nobody had been brought to justice for the Embassy bombing, or several other terrorist attacks in the immediate region. U.S. personnel were on high alert status, considered potential targets in the face of credible threats. She certainly didn't like the idea of Alex being there in the midst of all of that, but, she reminded herself that was Alex's job, and she had no doubt of her capabilities.

"W ill you be going home until then?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from Alex's.

"In a few days, but until then, I was hoping you and I could spend some time together." Alex returned Devon's stare, reaching across the table to link their fingers together.

Devon's mind flashed to the night during their senior year at Penn State when their friendship had gotten a bit closer. They had been camping with a group of friends in the Poconos and it was their last night before heading back to campus. Devon and Alex stayed up talking as usual long after everyone else had gone to sleep. The campfire was dying and they finished the last of the bottle of wine that they had been sharing. Alex was fiercely making a point about politics and governmental policy. Her brown eyes riveted on Devon, she leaned close to debate her point.

Devon had always thought that Alex was extremely cute, and suddenly the intensity in the big brown eyes pulled her in like a tractor beam. She leaned forward until their lips were nearly touching, stopping momentarily to gauge the other woman's response. Alexandra did not pull away, she stopped talking and neither one breathed. Then Devon kissed her softly, slowly relishing the sweetness for long moments as the warm summer breeze blew their hair around their faces.

The fond memory made Devon smile, and as she looked at Alex now, as attractive as she ever was, probably more, she struggled to remember what stopped them that night. Maybe just what she was thinking now.

"Alex," she said softly, without taking her hand away, "I don't want anything to ever hurt our friendship, and-"

"No," Alex said quietly, but with a sharpness that grabbed her attention. She moved her hand to grasp Devon's more tightly, while their eyes locked and held.

Devon saw that same passion that she remembered in her brown eyes. "You do not need to protect me."

"It's not that."

"No? Then what?" Alex fixed Devon with a fiery stare of momentary challenge before a wave of warmth washed over and softened her expression.

With quiet intensity she finished, "I've been waiting for three years, wondering what it would be like to make love to you." Alex's eyes were like smoldering embers and the heat from the contact of her hand was fusing Devon's skin to the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The tractor beam was locked on again.

Alex saw Devon's eyes begin to glow a deeper blue as that beautiful smile lit up her face. They both drew a deep breath and laughed. Neither knew what pain the other had endured in the time since they had last seen each other, but they both sensed a wounded heart. For now they could comfort each other without fear of commitment, knowing the bond that they shared was beyond physical and knowing that they were each safe with each other.

#

After stopping at a women's club on P Street for a couple of drinks and dancing, Alex gave the cab driver the address to her small one bedroom apartment in the Adam's Morgan neighborhood of the capital, near Meridian Hill Park, a lively district popular with young professionals boasting eclectic artwork, colorful murals, trendy restaurants and shops. Devon took her arm as they walked up the stairs and stood close as Alex unlocked the heavy wooden door to the renovated 19th century apartment building.

She hesitated when they stepped inside. Uncertainty shrouded her thoughts as the reality of where this evening was headed surrounded her. Devon waited for Alex to invite her fully into the apartment. Even then, she stood at the side of the couch, afraid of presuming too much. She watched Alex as she removed her jacket and shoes before putting soft music on the stereo. Alex turned around to look at Devon with a smile that only meant desire. Her eyes danced in the soft light of the moon streaming through the window. She held out her hand in silent invitation.

Devon could not believe that she had not fully appreciated her beauty before tonight. She walked quickly across the room to cup Alex's face in her hands and place a tender kiss on her lips. Just as she had years before, she took her time, allowing her lips and tongue to linger and then slowly move to capture more of her sweetness. This time Alex did move. She returned the sensuous kiss, sliding her tongue inside to tease and taste Devon's mouth while her hips pressed into the lean muscular thighs.

Surprised by Alex's reaction, Devon felt her own body surge with sudden arousal. Pulling Alex tightly to her, she kissed her more completely, driving her tongue further into the warmth. They clung together deepening their kisses until Devon knew she was losing the battle with reason. Alex's body trembled against hers and her own legs threatened to give out.

She briefly broke the contact of their lips, resting her forehead on Alex's, their eyes locking as they breathed heavily. Devon could read the wanting in the brown eyes but a voice in the back of her head reminded her that this was her friend. She warned her body to slow down, until Alex whispered breathlessly against her neck, "Please, Devon, don't stop this time."

With a low groan, Devon wrapped her arms powerfully around the tiny waist, picked her up and began walking toward the couch. Alex wrapped her legs around Devon's hips, urgently murmuring, "No, the other way, the bedroom."

Devon shifted the smaller woman higher on her waist and carried her quickly to the bedroom across the hall, while Alex lightly kissed the side of her neck and gently traced her tongue along the edges of her ear, lighting a raging fire in Devon's center.

As they reached the end of the bed, Alex worked the buttons free on Devon's shirt, reaching inside to stroke her breasts, feeling the nipple stiffen under her touch.

A gasp escaped Devon's throat when Alex pinched the firm flesh. Devon lowered Alex onto the bed and remained between her legs, pressing her hip high inside.

She felt the heat of Alex's excitement even as her own clitoris pulsed.

Alex slid her thigh between Devon's legs and the contact nearly sent her over the edge of control. Her head was light; it seemed that every drop of her blood was flowing between her legs. Her desire was an unbelievably sweet ache and she could think of nothing except the desperate need to be released.

Devon eased back from Alex's thigh just enough to release the pressure that was dangerously pushing her excitement too far and too fast. She quickly moved to pull Alex's shirt up and off and deftly worked the clasp on her bra, freeing the brunette's full breasts. Leaning down to capture a stiff nipple with her mouth, she lightly nipped then sucked and flicked her tongue repeatedly around the pink tip as Alex let out soft moaning sounds and writhed beneath her attempting to press her hips more tightly against Devon's.

She unbuttoned the front of Alex's jeans and slid her hand inside, cupping her fully, then running the pad of her index finger lightly over her heated flesh as Alex jumped and cried out.

Continuing the attention on Alex's breasts with her lips, Devon lightly stroked two fingers on either side of the soft fleshy nerve bundle, working the shaft as the tip rapidly grew and hardened. She took her time, sliding through the wetness and rubbing in a circular motion to match the driving of the practiced tongue on her nipples, threatening to drive Alex mad with pleasure.

Alex ran her hands through the blond curls at the nape of her neck pulling Devon's mouth more forcefully onto her breast as she felt the explosion in her depths.

At the first rock of Alex's pelvis into her hand, Devon drove into her fully, claiming her with certain thrusts matching the pull of strong contractions drawing her deeper into her lover. Devon cried out as a wave of orgasm began crashing through her simultaneously. She thrust her hips on Alex's thigh, both of them riding the waves of passion ever higher.

Holding each other as the aftermath of their lovemaking slowly subsided, Devon drew a deep breath, kissing Alex lightly on top of her head, she chuckled, "Why did we wait so long to do that?"

"You tell me, I was the shy one, remember?" she laughed, nuzzling Devon's neck.

Devon laughed out loud, "W ell you certainly have gotten over that."

Alex began slowly caressing Devon's bare stomach, slowly drawing circles around her navel and then moving toward her chest, stopping to flick each hardening nipple with her thumb. She smiled as Devon's stomach tightened and she shuddered. Tracing her fingers down to the edge of the fabric of her jeans and sliding down inside the waistband to the wetness she knew was waiting, she watched Devon's blue eyes darken.

"Ready to go again, are we?" Her voice was playful, her dark eyes hungry.

"W ill be

soon," A sharp gasp escaped her throat as Alex stroked her. Devon pushed her hips forward and her head back on the bed.

"W ell, let's just get a bit more comfortable," Alex unbuttoned the fly on Devon's jeans and pulled them down off of her. She removed her briefs and finally stripped her open shirt from her shoulders, baring Devon completely.

"You too," Devon said hoarsely.

Alex's hands on her flesh were making her head swim again. She got up on her knees as Alex removed her remaining clothing. Devon reached out to pull her into a tight embrace, painting kisses along her neck and shoulders. Alex ran her hands down Devon's back and squeezed her backside, pulling their hips together.

Their mouths crushed together battling for control as they fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. The reignited passion burned relentlessly until the first gray of the dawn began to paint the sky.

Chapter 18

Devon woke, disoriented and she blinked looking around trying to get her bearings. Shit. What time is it? What day is it? Saturday. She remembered now that she was at Alexandra's apartment. The bed was empty beside her, checking her watch she saw it was almost noon. The delectable aroma of brewing coffee floated pleasantly in from the other room, beckoning her to follow the scent. A search of the floor area next to the bed successfully located her discarded shirt and jeans.

Devon pulled them on to venture out of the bedroom lured by the promise of the caffeine fix.

She found Alex pouring coffee into two large mugs at the kitchen island. Sliding up behind her to place her hands lightly on her hips, Devon brushed gentle kisses on the back of her neck. "Good morning."

Alex leaned back into Devon's body, "Morning." She purred. Stepping away, she added just a splash of cream into one of the mugs, stirred it gently, and lifted the final product toward Devon with a smile. "One cream, no sugar, right?"

Devon shook her head, returning the smile with a slight grin of her own. She accepted the coffee gratefully, watching Alex over the cup.

"You know me better than anyone." She acknowledged. Their eyes met and held as they sipped the rich beverage; neither one spoke for a few moments as if assessing the other's reaction to the previous night.

"Alex," Devon began, "I-"

"Hey," Alex stopped her, grasping her by the left hand and leading her into the living room.

They settled sideways on the couch to look directly at each other. The energy in the room was a bit strange for them both, but not exactly uncomfortable. Both women began to talk at the same time and then laughed.

"You go ahead," Alex smiled, drawing her fingertip lightly from Devon's hairline down her cheek.

"I just don't want this to make things weird between us." Her eyes were clouded with uncertainty.

"Is it going to make it hard for you?" Alex raised her eyebrows with the question.

"I'm not uncomfortable so far," Devon's dazzling grin lit up her face, making Alex smile brightly back.

In the next second Devon was utterly serious. "I just know that you are extremely important to me our friendship, and

well I just can't get into a relationship

right now with anyone..." She looked down at her hands, "Sorry."

Alex reached out to lightly touched Devon's chin, lifting until their eyes met again. "Listen to me. I knew exactly what we were doing, and I have no agenda other than to enjoy each other's company for the next few days. If that's a problem for you, just let me know." Devon shook her head no.

"Look," Alex continued, "I'm not going to pretend that I haven't always had a crush on you." Devon smiled shyly and looked away again. She could feel the heat of the blush in her cheeks.

Alex went on, "You have never been dishonest with me. Our friendship means the world to me, too, Dev. Nothing's ever going to change that."

She hugged Devon tightly around the neck, speaking softly into her ear, "But, if I ever find the woman who broke your heart, I might have to kill her."

Chapter 19

Two weeks later, Devon was summoned to her commander's office. "Have a seat, lieutenant," Colonel Brinkman waved his hand toward a brown leather chair in front of his wide cherry wood desk. He moved behind it and eased his large frame into the high back leather chair, leaning back and smiling briefly at her.

"Thank you, sir." Devon sat upright, her back not touching the chair. She was a bit uncertain about the reason for the urgent meeting he had called, and she had expected a group setting, not a private conference.

As if reading her mind, he spoke, "I'll get right to the point."

She nodded, holding his gaze steadily while fighting her rising anxiety and waited for what he had to say.

He picked up a folder on the desk and held it out to her, "I've only seen this type of thing happen once or twice in my career, Devon, so I want you to appreciate what you've accomplished."

Devon opened the folder and read the inside sheet, which was a transfer order with her name at the top. Her heart lurched. She felt instantly a little sick, wondering if she had pushed too far and was getting packed off to some shithole assignment.

Reading the apprehension on her face, her commander quickly reassured her, "Lieutenant, this is a very good thing." Smiling at her he continued, "Your intelligence and hard work paid off, Devon. Congratulations, you have been assigned to the ISA."

"ISA? I don't understand, colonel."

"The Army's Intelligence Support Activity. I don't pretend to know everything they do, but they are a newly formed unit, still under the intelligence command of NSA. One of their missions right now is monitoring the peacekeeping operations in Lebanon. Since you have come up with some innovative thinking on operational matters, along with your educational background, it appears that you have the right stuff." He rose to shake her hand across the desk.

"Thank you, sir." She couldn't keep the astonishment from her voice. "I hope I can live up to your expectations."

"Oh, you've already accomplished that, lieutenant. That's why you were chosen for this assignment. You are going to do fine."

Devon stood to return the handshake. The colonel concluded their meeting by handing her a sealed envelope stamped with the words 'Top Secret Optimize Talent'

stamped in red letters across the seal. "This dossier will provide you with the background information that you need for your new assignment, lieutenant." He smiled affectionately, "A little light reading for your flight. Good luck, Devon."

Chapter 20

Beirut, Lebanon August 1983

First Lieutenant James stepped from the C130 military transport plane onto the tarmac of the airfield. A hot breeze blew clouds of sand through the air and she lowered her head and squinted trying to keep it from getting into her eyes. She was greeted by a sergeant who snapped a firm salute as she approached the small caravan of military vehicles about two hundred yards from the planes. Returning the salute, Devon extended her hand to the man who she judged to be in his late twenties and he grasped her hand firmly.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Sergeant Joe Wilson, but everybody calls me W oody." His demeanor was businesslike, but his eyes were friendly as he greeted the new arrival.

"I'm your driver and mechanic. Anywhere you need to go, you just holler," He smiled and gestured to the half dozen Black Hawk helicopters on the other side of the runway, "Unless you need to go by air, then Captain McKinley will give you a lift."

"Thanks, W oody," she replied as he took her duffle bag and threw it into the jeep. He motioned for her to get in on the passenger side as he slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. "The major said to bring you right over, lieutenant, so we'll be heading directly to his office."

As he drove, Woody gave the lieutenant a rundown of the general operations, a sort of lay of the land. He explained that their operations were run out of a separate building from either the temporary embassy structure or the Marine barracks building. However, virtually all U.S. military operations facilities were housed on the grounds of the airport, for safety concerns.

Knowing that Alex was assigned to the general area, she asked the sergeant, "What about CIA, are they still housed with the embassy personnel?"

He looked curiously at his new boss, wondering why an army officer cared what the super spooks were doing. "Yes, ma'am, I believe they are, but we really don't have any contact with those people." His tone revealed his disdain for the non-military intelligence folks.

Devon made a mental note of his obvious irritation at the mention of the CIA. Casually, she continued, "I just know that they lost a lot of personnel in the spring, and wondered if they had moved them to a closer proximity to the military for security reasons."

He laughed at that. "Lieutenant, they certainly don't want us anywhere around anything that they are into. W e're just a bunch of grunts to them."

Wilson pulled the jeep in front of a nondescript concrete block building about two miles from the runways. The building was surrounded by a chain link fence topped with barbed wire, the two army guards on either side of the door rendered sharp salutes as Devon approached, which she returned before stepping through the door behind the sergeant. He led the way down a short corridor to an outer office area where a specialist 4 sat behind a desk.

"Watson," the sergeant addressed the young woman, "This is Lieutenant James. Please inform the major she has arrived."

The specialist smiled, "Good afternoon, lieutenant, please have a seat." She indicated the chairs along the wall. She picked up the phone and after a few seconds, said, "Major, Lieutenant James is here to see you. Very good sir." Returning the phone to the cradle, she spoke again to Devon, "The major will just be a few moments, ma'am."

Devon thanked the young woman and again reviewed the paperwork in her briefcase.

Less than five minutes later, the door behind the specialist opened and Major Kelly, a silver haired man in his fifties, about 5'10", who appeared to be very fit walked briskly toward Devon, his hand outstretched, a welcoming smile on his face. "Lieutenant James, good to see you."

Rising to greet the commander, Devon returned his smile and took his hand firmly. "Thank you, sir. I'm very happy to be here."

During the thirty minute briefing, Devon learned that she was to be part of an intelligence gathering team concentrating on identifying and locating targets of interest in and around the mid east. In particular their emphasis was on those from Lebanon, Syria and Iran as well as PLO and recently, Hamas. Analysts would identify signals of interest, and once Devon's team located the targets, they would either forward the information to allied forces, or if the threats were serious enough, U.S. special operations forces would be sent to neutralize the threat.

The team would be supported in their mission by the direction finding unit at NSA, Devon's previous unit. Devon was glad to know that her people would be working with them, even if it was from the other side of the world. The major indicated that the unit was becoming more involved in operations, as they began to identify more potential targets. Devon had been sent to his command specifically to increase their threat assessment capabilities by applying her methods from NSA to their operations.

Major Kelly surveyed his new team leader. During the briefing she asked only a few questions, but they were on point, intelligent inquiries. She didn't mince words and her directness revealed self confidence that he liked. James knew her stuff.

"Colonel Brinkman and I went to W est Point together. Did he tell you that, Devon?"

"No sir, I wasn't aware of that."

"He spoke so highly of you that I was afraid that the reality might disappoint." He smiled. "So far so good."

"I was fortunate to have the colonel's support."

"The way he sees it, he was fortunate to have someone with your talent. Now's your chance to show me what you've got. Let's go meet your team, shall we?"

The major rose from behind his desk and started toward the door as Devon followed. "I can't wait to see what you come up with around here."

"I've heard this is an outstanding unit, major. I'm very excited to be here."

"These folks are all pros, the best in their fields, so I expect that you will be a good fit here. W e are a new unit, and that tends to give us more flexibility than most other assignments. Feel free to be innovative-I hear that's really your specialty-just keep me informed so I'm not blindsided, and you and I will get along fine."

"Yes sir." Devon looked appreciatively at her new commander.

"Oh, and Devon," the major smiled at her, "You'll find that I worry more about work ethic and results, not ceremonial B.S. Most of the team operates informally as far as rank. Everyone is on a first name basis in the unit, and with the support personnel that they work closely with."

"That's fine, sir." Devon gave the major a pleased grin. She had a feeling that this was going to be her kind of operation.

She followed the major to the operations center for a tour where she met the other members of the team. Along with Watson, there were three additional intelligence officers. Mike Stephens, a sergeant first class from Portland, Oregon was the unit's Morse code specialist. Dave Michaels, a sergeant from Lincoln, Nebraska was a linguistics specialist, fluent in several Arabic languages. Jeff King, a specialist 5 was the unit's signals specialist. All were experts in direction finding techniques, and all, just like their new boss were airborne trained graduates of jump school at Ft. Benning, GA.

"Gentleman, I am very pleased to meet all of you. I look forward to accomplishing great things with our unit." Devon met each man's eyes in turn. "I am able to copy about 50 groups per minute in Morse code," she grinned at Stephens, "That's like a snail compared to you, I'm sure Mike, but at least I can help." Stephens returned the smile.

Continuing, Devon said, "I have some experience from my stint at NSA with other signals direction finding work, Jeff, so I know something about your area of expertise as well, but I'll need you to bring me up to speed as to the recognition of the unique sounds of the equipment used by the terrorists here. As for you, Dave, I've got nothing," she laughed slightly, "I can speak Italian-passably, so I'll rely on your expertise completely in the language translation department."

"I know how to work the equipment, I can parachute from a helicopter, and I am good at sifting through data for patterns or irregularities. However, you guys have been here. You know the terrain and the players already. I will rely on each of you to provide me with your piece of the data. My job will be to compile it and decide on the recommended locations for the strike force teams to take to the major. Questions?"

Looking again at each team member she nodded when they all shook their heads no. She knew that they had no questions about the job, what they did question was her. The only way to get past that was to jump right in and let them get to know her. Checking her watch, she saw that it was 1400hrs local time, which meant her body still on east coast time, said it was 0700 and she had begun her journey at 0540 hours the day before. She sighed, no time for sleep now.

"Okay, then, two things. First, somebody show me where I can stow my gear so I can get my first lesson at field station Beirut. Second-"

The door behind her banged open and Devon turned to see a woman in a green flight suit, her sleeves rolled up to reveal her muscular forearms striding purposefully across the open space. Her hair was jet black with just a hint of curl as it reached the edge of the collar and spilled over her forehead. Her steel grey eyes were sharply focused and her full lips looked to be just holding back a smile as she approached the new lieutenant.

"I heard we had a new arrival," the captain said in a conversational tone to the room but her eyes continued to assess Devon. She stopped within a foot and extended her hand, smiling, "Erin McKinley, but everybody calls me Mac."

Devon extended her hand and grasped the captain's firmly, smiling as well. "Devon James, Captain, very pleased to meet you."

The grey eyes flickered with amusement, "Just Mac is fine, Devon."

Devon's instantly liked the directness in the other woman's demeanor. "Okay, Mac."

"I'm the unit's pilot, so whenever you need to go, or send out a recon team, you just give me a yell and we'll be in the air within thirty minutes. Less, if you don't catch me when I'm

otherwise engaged."

The guys all laughed, as Mac winked and grinned knowingly at the group. "Anyway, I just came to say hello. Give me a shout if you need anything, Devon." With that, she strolled out just the way she came in, leaving Devon to get acquainted with her team.

Chapter 21

Devon sat in front of a bank of monitors and radio receivers wearing headphones. One side covered her right ear listening to the transmissions and the left was hiked up on her head, allowing her to also hear the room around her. She turned the dial every few minutes alternating between the three frequencies that the team had identified as primary transmission lines for the PLO and newer, more active terrorist group, Hamas.

Jeff was monitoring transmissions from Israeli military units from a nearby station. "That last car bomb explosion was a little too close to the airport for comfort.

What do you say, Devon?"

"Yeah." She paused to concentrate a moment on the voice in her right ear. "That's why we have to figure this out, Jeff. We have to identify a location for the group claiming responsibility. They're getting way too bold."

"Nobody's said anything yet," he rubbed his chin, "I'm hoping the Israeli's might have something. If not, I'll switch over and help you search."

Devon heard chatter as she rolled onto the second frequency. She immediately flipped the left earpiece down onto her ear blocking out all other noise. Over the last few weeks, Jeff had given her some lessons in at least identifying the language she was listening to so that she would be able to distinguish the transmissions even if she didn't understand what they were saying. The speaker was definitely Palestinian. Devon made a note of the exact frequency and time, then flipped the switch on the remote antenna. She mashed the tracking key, repeatedly taking as many readings as possible until the transmission was terminated about five seconds later.

She spun around, pushing her wheeled chair across the small space toward a laser printer that was spitting out lists of coordinates and corresponding maps of the target fixes. In the past few days they had begun fixing targets just to the east of the U.S. compound in a mountainous area long thought by the team to be the base area for the terrorist group Hamas.

"W hat do you think, Devon?" Jeff looked over her shoulder at the printouts.

"I think we have two problem areas," Devon said, rising from her chair and moving to the large area map hanging on the wall. She placed a red pin in the area identified by the latest fix, and after reviewing similar hardcopies generated days before, she placed another pin in an area not even two miles from the airport.

"This first area is already known to be Shi'a dominated." She drew her finger down the map to the second point. "That area is an extremely poor neighborhood, ripe for recruitment of new martyrs for the radical Shi'a Muslim groups. Maybe they've already set up shop there."

"I'll have Mike concentrate his signals work on those locations, boss."

"Okay Jeff, that's good. I'd like to get a look at both of those areas before we commit one of the ground teams. Also, Jeff, keep working on the voice intercepts.

We need to confirm that the group in the hills is actually Hamas affiliated. If they are, the close proximity to the Shi'a living in the area just outside our gate is troubling."

Devon stood and stretched, trying to work the tension from her back and shoulders. She stepped outside and walked the several hundred yards to the south side of the hanger that housed the helicopters. As she entered the large arched metal building, she marveled at the magnificence of the sleek black birds. She stopped a few feet from one, looking straight up to take in the enormity of the machine.

"Incredible, aren't they?" A smooth tenor voice came from behind her. Devon turned to see Mac standing a few feet away, her eyes glowing as they wandered over the expanse of the Blackhawk helicopter.

"Yes." Devon agreed, looking at it with wonder. She had flown in this and other birds in jump school, but they never ceased to amaze her. "How long have you been flying?"

"Ten years," Mac shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. "I've always wanted to fly, since I was a kid." She smiled and her eyes reflected a distant memory.

"Realizing a dream is a wonderful thing."

"Yes," She said seriously, her mind drifting in memory a moment. With a shake of her head she pulled herself back to the present. Mac said casually, "So, they say you're the new super sleuth on the signals front."

"Not really," Devon replied, "I just like to compile all the data, shuffle it all together, look at it from another angle and see what fits."

"Kind of like getting a different perspective from the air, I guess?" Mac rejoined, "Makes sense. Speaking of which, are you just here by accident or would you like to take a ride and get a look at that new perspective?"

"I think a look from on top would be a fine idea." Devon agreed.

"W ell then," Mac laughed, "Let's get going. We'll take one of the smaller Huey's for today's short trip."

She indicated one of the Hughes 369 light observation helicopters that was sitting out on the helipad. This machine had been the military's helicopter workhorse for more than two decades. The egg shaped craft was designed to carry a pilot and four passengers. It also carried a 7.62mm minigun and for the purposes of the current mission, a compact version of the unit's direction finding equipment was installed on the passenger side of the cockpit.

The two officers climbed into the cockpit and Mac handed Devon a headset. Motioning to the small boxes to the right, "Your electronic spy equipment is right there, in case we run into anything you find interesting," she said.

Mac then began powering up the Huey and notifying the controller in the tower of their intent to depart. After a few moments, Devon heard the machine-like male voice give Mac of their clearance for takeoff. The rotors began winding and soon were spinning loudly, drowning out the possibility of conversation except by way of the headset, and even then the sound was a loud growling noise that competed with their voices and the low hum of Devon's equipment.

Once they were in the air, Devon allowed herself a few minutes to simply take in the beauty of the sunset view from the aircraft as they ascended into the sky.

Mac effortlessly banked the aircraft toward the west, taking them in a wide arc along the outer perimeter of the U.S. compound.

The view was breathtaking. They could see the city. Beirut was commonly called the Paris of the Middle East, and Devon could understand the comparison. It had all of the appearances of a modern world commerce center. Unfortunately, the raging civil war was damaging the infrastructure as well as the reputation of the former tourist destination. As soon as she caught sight of the areas where she and her crew needed intelligence, she switched on her on board equipment and began searching the frequencies. Her right ear was trained on the incoming signals and the left remained connected to Mac.

As the helicopter continued to make its wide bank, Devon adjusted the receiver to allow the random search for signals. Soon she spotted a small cluster of buildings that she didn't recognize about a mile to the east of the airport. The small compound was surrounded by a barbed wire fence.

"W hat's that?"

Mac looked in the direction Devon was pointing, "Temporary Embassy and CIA headquarters."

"Really?" Devon couldn't suppress a smile. She hadn't had much time to think about finding Alex since she had been there, but the thought of her being that close pleased her. When she saw Mac looking at her inquiringly, a dark eyebrow raised, she shrugged, "I have an old friend assigned with the CIA here." She was irritated with herself when she felt the heat of color rise in her cheeks.

"Must be quite a friend, huh?" Mac smiled. "You look like you want me to drop you right in the middle of that compound." Her eyes twinkled with amused interest.

Devon wondered now at her reaction. Alexandra was her dearest friend and she did want to see her, but she was surprised at the physical response she was feeling just thinking about Alex. Her body immediately tingled at the thought of Alex being so near. The memories of their lovemaking were burned permanently into her consciousness and her body reacted of its own volition.

"Yes, she is quite a friend."

Mac nodded without commenting. She saw a flicker of something that looked a lot like desire in the blue eyes. That's interesting, she thought.

The sound of chatter on the frequency interrupted Devon's thoughts and she quickly sat forward to concentrate. She adjusted the mobile antenna and took as many readings as she could before the voice went silent again.

"Did you get something?" Mac asked when she sat back from the monitor.

"I won't know until we get back and I can get a map drawn up, but the area up there in the hills seems to be the heaviest activity. W e keep getting readings from the housing area over there," She pointed to the north, "But we haven't been able to connect the two. I think they are related somehow." If I could only talk to Alex, maybe we could piece this together and save us all lots of time.

"You have an idea?" Mac was studying her. "I heard that you had some unconventional ways of gathering information."

"Not really." Devon shrugged. "I just don't think we should limit ourselves to the conventional." She grinned.

"W ell, I wrote the book on breaking from protocol, when the rules get in the way of getting things done. Does that friend of yours figure into your methods?"

"As a matter of fact, she does."

Mac was banking the helicopter in for their landing; she glanced sideways again at her passenger, "How about we take a ride over there when we get in? I have a friend with the Embassy who can probably put us in touch with your friend."

"Let's do it, then." Devon agreed.

Chapter 22

After stopping at the ops center to retrieve a stack of printouts on the areas in question, Devon and Mac drove to the Embassy complex. Inside the doorway where a marine guard was posted, they were met by a short red haired woman wearing a starched white shirt and dark green skirt. The woman gave Mac a warm welcoming smile, "Hey stranger," she said as the two women embraced.

Stepping back, the redhead appraised Devon, "W ho's your friend?" Her green eyes traveled from Devon's face, down the length of her body and returned where their eyes met.

Devon heard Mac chuckle, "This is Devon. Devon, Sheri."

"Pleased to meet you," Devon murmured, but all she could think about was seeing Alex. They hadn't spoken much on the ride over; Devon was preoccupied with her thoughts. She hadn't thought about much of anything but her work since arriving a few weeks ago, but now that they were in the building housing the CIA field headquarters, she couldn't seem to think of anything else.

Sheri led them down the hallway to what appeared to be a small conference room. "Help yourselves to coffee. I'll only be a minute." She flashed a provocative smile at Mac before disappearing through the door again.

Devon poured them each a cup. She set one in front of Mac and took seat in a leather high back chair beside her at the long conference table. Mac looked curiously at Devon as she sipped her coffee.

"So, how is it that you and someone from the CIA worked on a project together? That's not exactly SOP."

Her grey eyes danced with amusement as she watched the lieutenant shift in her chair and look away. When Devon looked back at her the usual sharpness was back in her expression. She knew Devon was evaluating her, deciding how much she could reveal. What Mac thought, but couldn't be certain, was that the hesitation was more personal than a professional security concern.

Devon took a swallow of her coffee. She set the cup back on the dark wooden table and looked into the cup for a few seconds. Mac sat quietly waiting for her answer.

"Just a fluke. They needed some data and I just happened to be there," she shrugged.

The door behind them opened and Mac looked up to see Sheri coming back through the door. Just behind her, an attractive woman with large deep set brown eyes strode into the room. She wore a navy suit which was tailored to fit her obviously trim but shapely figure. Her rich brown hair danced around her shoulders and she brushed back a stray lock that fell across her face.

The woman's stare fell on Mac, quickly assessing her with sharp precision before moving to the blonde next to her as Devon turned toward the sound of their entry to the room. W hen she registered the identity of her companion, Mac saw the granite eyes melt to a warm dark chocolate color. The woman froze just inside the door and the sound of a sharp gasp escaped her throat.

As Devon turned in the direction of the woman, Mac saw an electric smile light Devon's face. The two women embraced fully. Not the shoulder to shoulder, kiss in the air squeeze that women so often give to friends. No, this was a full body embrace that spoke of intimacy.

Oh, this is no fluke, Mac laughed to herself. She could feel the heat between the two women shimmering in the air.

Alex spoke first, "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, chasing bad guys," Devon grinned.

"W hy didn't you tell me you were coming?"

As soon as she asked, she felt ashamed, realizing that she had never contacted Devon after the week they spent together in D.C. True, it had only been a little over a month ago, but Devon would have no way to get in touch unless she had called or written, which she hadn't. She told herself that she had just been busy with her new assignment, which was partly true, but she also had been afraid that Devon might be uncomfortable now that she knew how Alex felt.

And just how did she feel? Alex thought that their time together would be enough to satisfy the longing that she had felt for Devon since college. The opposite was true. Making love to Devon had stoked the flames of embers long simmering in her soul. It had been more incredible than she had ever dreamed. Now Devon was here and Alex was terrified that Devon would tell her it had all been a mistake.

As if reading Alex's thoughts, Devon said quietly, "Did you think coming to Beirut was far enough? You can't get away that easily."

Devon held her stare long enough to allow Alex to read the feeling inside, because even if she could talk to her right now, she wasn't sure that she could find the right words. She was humming inside with a flood of feeling. Friendship, gratitude, excitement. Longing. Suddenly she felt searing heat where Alex's hands were holding her arms. Drawing a deep breath, she quickly stepped away, turning back toward Mac.

"Captain Erin McKinley, I would like you to meet Special Agent Alexandra Sommers."

The captain stood and extended her hand, "Mac."

"Alex," she returned the firm grip.

"W ell, I guess we can let you two catch up a bit," Mac looked at Sheri, "Want to take a walk?" She whispered into her ear, "We should give them a little privacy, I think," Sheri nodded and smiled knowingly. As they left the room, Mac smiled back at Devon, giving her a wink as she closed the door.

Once they were alone again, Alex hugged Devon tightly. "You have no idea how good you feel," she said breathlessly Devon leaned in to rest her cheek against the side of Alex's neck, breathing in her scent as fresh as spring rain. "Mmm, I just might," she sighed softly against the delicate skin, sending a shiver down Alex's spine. Feeling her own body respond, Devon straightened and backed slightly away, breaking the contact. They both took a deep breath to reign in their reeling senses.

Devon pulled out a chair and indicated with her hand for Alex to sit, taking the seat next to her.

"Hopefully, we'll have time to catch up that way soon, but right now we're working, so I guess we should talk about that before we get into trouble." The familiar beautiful smile lighting her face made Alex's heart ache with desire.

"You're right, of course," She barely managed to keep her voice from shaking.

Devon removed the stack of documents from her briefcase and placed them on the table in front of them. "I have noticed two specific areas of concentrated activity in these two areas," she pointed to the areas circled on the maps. "My linguist tells me that the indications are that Hamas members are at these locations. The additional signals intelligence corroborates this."

Devon watched Alex carefully as she spoke for any reaction. With the exception of her eyes hardening a bit, she did not seem surprised by the information. She cocked her head sideways to draw Alex's eyes to hers.

Alex looked at Devon expressionlessly. The CIA had been working around the clock to identify and uncover the locations of the terrorist group responsible for the attack on the embassy in April, wiping out their entire team. It was personal, and although she trusted Devon, the Agency wanted to exact the retribution on this group themselves. They were close to having all the information they needed. She briefly wondered how much Devon had been able to uncover already. She is so good at this. She should work for the Agency, not the Army.

"W ell, I see you have your spy face on," Devon suddenly felt like an unwanted guest. "What are you now, just like the rest of the bureaucrats?"

Devon's accusation stung and Alex recognized a mixture of sadness and anger swirling in her eyes. It hurt Alex to see Devon look at her that way. She covered Devon's hand with her own.

"I'm sorry, you're not the enemy. It's just different here, Dev. The intensity is incredible because we all feel so much pressure to bring someone to justice for hitting us right here where we live."

Devon considered that. She couldn't imagine how they must feel, so she pushed her anger aside and squeezed Alex's hand, "No, I'm sorry; I should have realized how personal this is to your team."

"It's okay."

"Listen, I just want to help, you know that. My commander has given me the green light to be creative," she grinned. "I don't want you to compromise yourself, Alex, but I still think we can find a way to help each other."

Alex looked doubtful. Devon continued, "C'mon, you know we can find a missing piece of information if we compare notes." She was grinning again and Alex's defenses fell.

Raising her hands in surrender, she laughed, "Okay, okay. We can give it a try, but don't get mad at me if I can't tell you some things

"

"Not a problem," Devon shook her head, "I appreciate your position."

"Good," Alex linked her fingers with Devon's, "so how about having dinner with me tonight?"

"Dinner

hmmm," Devon rubbed her thumb across the knuckles on Alex's hand, her eyes narrowed as she spoke, "Should I save room for desert?"

"W ell, I wouldn't want anyone to think you were collaborating with the enemy," Alex's voice was low and suggestive.

"Is that what you are?" Devon brushed her leg slowly along Alex's beneath the table, watching her brown eyes darken to black.

Her voice was almost a whisper, "That's the thing about spies, it's hard to tell who's side they're on."

"Oh, but I have special interrogation techniques."

"Really?" Alex leaned forward slightly, her eyes locked with Devon's.

The door flew open and Mac walked briskly in. "You two all caught up?" Her eyes playfully bouncing between the two women seated at the table. She didn't miss the way both women were leaning toward each other and then jumped as they heard her enter.

Devon ran a hand through her hair, blushing, "Not quite."

"W e better get back to our side of the world," Mac said lightly, "You ready?"

"Sure." Devon stood to leave and Alex caught her arm.

"I'll be finished in an hour or so. Call me." She placed a card into Devon's hand with a hand written number on the back.

"See you soon." Devon smiled softly then walked passed Mac out the door.

"Nice to meet you, Alex," Mac called as she hurried to follow Devon down the hall.

After walking to the jeep in silence, Mac started the engine and swung a wide circular turnaround to exit the parking lot. "Alex seems very nice," she ventured.

Devon could read nothing probing or negative in her tone, only friendly conversation. Still, she felt the need to keep the now familiar barriers in place when discussing her personal life.

"Yes," was all Devon could say. Looking back at Mac, she sensed a common bond and saw compassion in her eyes, but she was afraid of revealing herself after all that she had lost. She would not endanger Alex.

Mac saw the uncertainty, mistrust and fear warring in Devon's eyes.

"I might know a thing or two about how you're feeling. It's okay, though, I understand. You don't know me well enough to trust me."

Devon said nothing. She wanted to talk to Mac. Inside she felt on some level that she could trust her, but the pain of losing not just Jillian but most of her friends was just too fresh. Instead, she stared out at the planes in the distance as they crossed the far side of the airport, wondering just when she lost her ability to trust.

Chapter 23

Devon tucked her beret into the side pocket of her camouflage pants and softly knocked at the door at the end of the second floor hall of the CIA personnel housing. It was just after eight o'clock. She had successfully put away the troubling thoughts of earlier after a brief conversation with Mac at the hanger. Mac assured her that she did not take offense to keeping her personal life private, and Devon knew she genuinely meant it. Now, standing here at Alex's door filled her heart with happiness in a way that she couldn't fully understand herself.

The door opened and Alex stood smiling at her wearing jeans and a half length white t-shirt that showed off her ample breasts and the flat planes of her stomach.

She watched Devon's eyes fall to her chest and slowly slide down her torso like a caress and felt heat flood into her thighs. Quickly, she pulled Devon into the room, closing the door behind her and immediately pinning her against the door with a thigh between her legs and a hungry mouth capturing Devon's.

The surprise of Alex's leg pressing hard against her crotch, driving the thick seam of her uniform pants against her clitoris made Devon's hips buck forward involuntarily. She gasped at the sudden pleasure and returned her kiss with equal intensity, the force bruising each other's mouth. Devon pushed her hands up under Alex's t-shirt, claiming the already hardening nipples between her thumb and forefingers. She pinched and teased the tips rhythmically as Alex rocked against her until she felt her legs might give out.

When they reached the end of the bed, Alex grasped the front of Devon's loose outer uniform shirt and pulled her down on top of her. Devon jerked the outer shirt off revealing the tighter fitting brown t-shirt beneath that did little to hide her muscular form and her high full breasts. She shuddered as Alex pulled the t-shirt free of her waistband and slid her palms across her abdomen then slowly worked the shirt up towards her shoulders. Devon raised her arms grasping the back of the shirt and pulling it free over her head while Alex quickly tugged the sport bra up, freeing her breasts and seizing a ripe pink nipple with her mouth.

Devon slid her hand to the back of Alex's neck and into the silky brown hair, bringing her mouth more forcefully against her breast as she felt Alex rocking against her right thigh. Gasping, Alex looked up into Devon's face and saw the need that mirrored her own.

"Clothes," She breathed as she pulled her t-shirt and jeans off.

Alex moved behind Devon to slowly caress her back and kiss her neck just below the golden strands of curls. She laughed throatily when she heard Devon growl in frustration as she fumbled with the laces on her desert boots.

"Have a heart, Alex," she muttered, "My coordination is a bit affected by your mouth on me." Alex laughed softly in her ear.

Devon kicked off the boots and began unfastening the tan belt around her waist. Alex stopped her hands and turned her around to face the bed, where she was seated now nude. She flipped open the brass buckle and slid the belt from where it circled Devon's thin waist, while she placed feather light kisses on the muscles rippling just above the top edge of the pants. Slowly, she worked each button of the fly free. Devon stepped out of the remainder of the clothing as it gathered at her ankles.

"I always knew you were beautiful," Alex whispered reverently, "But I never imagined

"

Devon pulled Alex to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She kissed her deeply, allowing all of the intimacy of their shared history to flow between them.

As the kisses became more urgent, Devon pulled Alex down to the bed, guiding her hips until she was straddling Devon, her center pressing on Devon's torso.

Alex began a slow roll of her hips on Devon's stomach, opening herself fully to feel the enticing friction against her wet swollen tissues. She arched her back and moaned as Devon worked her breasts with her mouth and hands sucking, kneading and every so often nipping the tip of the nipple with a soft bite. Her breathing became faster and her hips thrust erratically against Devon.

Devon slid her hand between Alex's thighs seeking the source of her desire. She circled the slick wet folds with her fingertips until she felt Alex tremble with the first signs of her building orgasm. She moved lower, lifting Alex's hips toward her mouth and sucked the tip of her clit into her mouth. Devon ran the tip of her tongue through the hot wetness, savoring the taste and pulsing sensations against her lips. W hen she felt the first surge of muscle contractions, she pulled Alex more tightly against her mouth and drove her tongue harder against the hypersensitive tip. She did not stop until Alex begged her for mercy, still trembling in her arms.

Pulling herself up to lay along the length of Alex's body, they wrapped their arms around each other relishing the peace and comfort between them, and Devon dozed.

She awakened a short while later, feeling a tension in Alex's body. Devon reached over to take Alex's chin in her hand tracing her thumb along her jaw and stroking her cheek lightly. She felt tears on Alex's cheeks and pulled away, startled.

"Al?" Devon tilted her head to look directly into her eyes, searching the dark liquid pools. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Alex whispered. W hen Devon raised her eyebrow and tilted her head in a questioning look, Alex forced a smile through the tears, "Really, I'm just so happy." I love you. I've always loved you.

Devon pulled Alex's head back down to her chest and rested her chin on the top of Alex's head. She ran her fingers slowly through her soft brown hair, thinking about everything between them and aching at the thought of hurting Alex. It would be very easy to accept what they had told each other in DC; that they were both adults and able to handle the addition of a physical relationship between them with no strings, but Devon knew that wasn't true. It did change things.

The love she felt for Alex was born of shared experience, intellect, and friendship. The deep bond between them had carried them through the struggles and disappointments of those awkward years transitioning between teenagers and adults. She did love Alex. True, it wasn't the instant visceral reaction and constant ache that she felt with Jillian, but look how wrong she was about that love.

There was no rush; they had time to figure out where their relationship was going. For the moment, they could keep things as they were. They both understood that their situation had to be handled carefully. She closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of shampoo in Alex's hair, knowing she didn't fully understand her own feelings. She only knew that right now she was powerless to let her go.

Chapter 24

October 15, 1984

"This has to be the group responsible," Devon sat in the ops center reviewing the weekly intercepts and transcripts from her team. Mac was leaning on the edge of the table next to her examining the pin map which clearly showed the concentration of activity in the two areas that she and Devon had been surveying for the past few weeks.

"I agree, and the command center is definitely in this area of the high ground," she pointed to the mountainous area on the map. "So what do you say we get with the major and put together an ops plan for a strike?"

"Everything seems to fit," Devon agreed, "Especially since we intercepted this last transmission just before Ramadan." She lifted a transcript that Jeff had translated three weeks ago, just before the beginning of the Muslim Holy month. The speaker had praised the brave martyrs of the spring and promised to continue their jihad against the infidels.

"He has to be referring to the Embassy bombing. And the promise to continue means that we can't afford to wait much longer. W e are in the middle of Ramadan now, which is probably why things have been relatively quiet."

"You think something is going to happen soon?" Mac asked warily.

"W ell, Eid-Ul-Fitr-that's the celebration at the end of Ramadan's month long fasting-is coming up soon. So some kind of action to show their continued commitment to the Jihad would make sense then."

She checked the calendar, noting the date for the Muslim holiday would be October 23 and frowned, "That's next week."

Devon walked to the secure phone on the wall and punched the number to Alex's office, hoping to get an idea of where their investigation was heading. She didn't want inadvertently to have two missions being planned for the same time that would ultimately ruin both. Mac watched Devon from across the room. After a few minutes, she heard the lieutenant curse softly and drop the receiver back on the cradle. She leaned against the counter, her back to the room for a bit longer before shaking her head and straightening. She returned to where Mac sat.

"Let's take a walk."

Mac followed her out the door and across the parking lot. Whatever Alex said had angered Devon. She would never reveal that in front of the team, however. Just like she would never reveal who it was she was speaking with to the rest of the team. It was tricky business navigating the mistrust and animosity that existed between the military and the CIA. Devon and Alex were walking a tightrope, regardless of the rightness of what they were trying to do. To the bureaucrats, it always came down to turf and who got the credit for success or the blame for failure.

In the past month, Devon had begun to reveal some of the details of her professional relationship with Alexandra Sommers. Mac was glad that the team would benefit from the additional information that Devon was able to get through their careful collaboration. She was also pleased that she and Devon had begun to develop a friendship and a growing trust was evident between them. Still, although she guessed there was far more than a professional relationship between Devon and Alex, she would never ask. If Devon wanted her to know, she would tell her.

They walked for a few minutes in silence. The daily sound of automatic weapons fire coming from the hills in the distance made both women visually scan the horizon as they walked. Devon shoved her hands deep into her pants pockets thinking about the conversation with Alex. She respected Alex's position, but she also had a responsibility to her own team. Both women had jobs to do; right now, however that was putting them at odds and the feeling unsettled Devon. She pushed away her anger, instead focusing on her mission.

Mac walked silently along side, knowing that Devon would explain as soon as she sorted through her thoughts. W hen they reached the edge of the tarmac in front of the helicopter bay, Devon stopped and regarded Mac seriously, weighing just what she wanted to reveal. Alex broke from protocol to even tell her that they were planning a strike on the terrorist compound in the next few days, and Devon knew that she had only told her because Devon wanted to send in a Delta Force Team.

The tense conversation played through her mind again.

"Alex, I know that you have training, but did it include close combat, extractions under fire, rappelling from helicopters? How do you think you're team is going to get in there?"

"Devon," Alex's tone was frigid, "Do not presume to know my teams or my capabilities."

"Okay, then tell me. Are you trained to drop out of a helicopter into a hot zone?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Alex had said, her voice icy. "I have to go."

Before Devon could protest, the connection was severed.

Replaying the conversation now made Devon's blood boil again. She drew a deep breath and ran a hand through her thick blond hair leaning on the edge of a helicopter skid, as Mac waited patiently.

"You look pretty strung out," Mac said quietly.

Devon shook her head and heaved a long sigh. "Just a bit frustrated." She stared off across the compound in the direction of the Embassy Building and CIA Headquarters.

"Anything you can share?" Mac followed her gaze, knowing that there were professional and personal dilemmas warring inside her friend. Mac was careful not to push too hard for information that she knew the lieutenant couldn't or wouldn't divulge. She watched Devon come to a decision.

"Alex's team has come to the same conclusion as we have regarding the fighters up in the hills."

"But that's not a good thing?"

"No, they of course want to run their own show-without us." Devon's gaze now turned toward the hills. "I know that they have capable personnel, but it just seems to me that hitting those bastards with a Delta Force team is the best response. Those guys train for that kind of thing every day. But Alex wasn't having any of that."

The last statement was nearly a growl and she grabbed onto the metal of the skid so hard that her knuckles were white. Staring down at the ground, she finished almost inaudibly, "That woman can be so frustrating."

"Most of them are," Mac grinned and clapped her on the back. Devon blushed slightly realizing she had spoken her last thought aloud. When she saw the playful acknowledgement in the other woman's eyes, she laughed as well.

"So, frustrating females aside, what do you want to do?"

"How mad do you think she'll get if we get the boys ready to hit the place ahead of them?" She knew the answer-plenty mad-but if doing this was going to keep Alex from going on a suicide mission, then so be it.

Mac whistled softly, "Well, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when she finds out you outflanked her." She winced at Devon. "But I agree, it should be a full scale military assault. Anything else is too risky."

"W ell, let's go see the major and get this operation set in motion."

#

After briefing the major, Devon and Mac sat at a table in the far corner of the mess tent each with a cup of coffee in front of them. They had already discussed the upcoming operation and Mac had answered some extra questions that Devon had because this was her first insertion mission with the Delta Force team. Mac could still feel uneasiness in Devon.

"Care to share what's still eatin' at you?"

"I'm just a little bit intimidated by the fact that this mission's success depends upon my teams Intel. My first real test as the team leader."

"Hey, don't worry, kid," Mac assured her, "I've seen your work, the Intel is solid. That camp is the right place; they are responsible for the car bombing. We drop the team in, they execute the plan, and we lift 'em out. Piece of cake." Her eyes twinkled.

"I know we're right, just a bit of jitters, I guess."

"I'd be more worried if you didn't have any," Mac said seriously, "Give yourself a break, this is your first time in a live combat deployment with probable enemy resistance. That's reason to be a bit jittery."

"Yeah," Devon said absently, staring at her cup.

Mac watched her friend for a few minutes knowing that her thoughts were not only of the upcoming mission. She knew worries about Alex's reaction were weighing heavily on Devon's mind. She also knew that the lieutenant needed to put any distracting thoughts out of her mind, at least the day of the deployment.

Distractions would get someone killed.

"Let's go." Mac stood and led Devon out of the tent.

"W here are we going?"

"You look like you could use a drink, and I definitely need one," The captain smiled.

Inside her room, Mac pulled two shot glasses and a bottle of Maker's Mark whiskey out of a small wooden cabinet in the corner of the room next to the small desk. She poured two shots and extracted two Maccabee beers from the small refrigerator. Handing a beer to Devon, she grinned, "You're from Pittsburgh, so a shot and a beer, right?"

"Yep," Devon laughed, and then studied the beer bottle a moment. "Israeli beer, huh?"

"Wait 'till you try it."

They raised their shot glasses to each other and downed the smooth whiskey, followed by long drinks from their beer.

Resting the bottle on her knee, Devon said appreciatively, "W ow, that's good."

The two women sat a few minutes in easy silence, sipping their beer. Finally, Mac spoke, "So, have you talked to Alex?"

Devon took a long pull from her beer, nearly finishing the bottle before her eyes met Mac's. "No, I'm afraid she'll ask me about our plans and I can't lie to her."

Mac nodded, "It's hard when it's so personal, I know."

She watched pain flicker in the blue eyes, but Devon said nothing. So stoic, she thought. What happened to make you so wary of everyone? Mac remembered her first lover when she was in flight school, and how everything had changed so drastically at the first hint of investigations of suspected gays at the school. She suspected something similar had happened to Devon or someone she knew. Mac also knew that the stress of their combat role was more than enough to handle; she didn't need to carry around the added worry about her personal life alone.

"You can tell me I'm out of line," she began, her eyes never leaving Devon's, "But it's obvious that you two care a great deal about each other. She may be mad about this, but if you give her time, I'm sure she will see that you made your decision partly out of your love for her."

Devon looked evenly back at Mac wondering for the hundredth time whether she should talk to her about anything personal. It was a lonely feeling to never be certain who to trust and to always keep your feelings hidden from view. She was suddenly grateful beyond measure to have someone to be able to talk to. She hadn't even written to Leigh about anything out of fear that her mail might be censored.

"Yes, she is very special to me," she said finally.

Mac smiled broadly, "Well, I knew that the second she walked into the conference room that first day. Talk about sparks flying, I was afraid the entire room was gonna go up in flames."

Devon blushed and looked down again at her now empty beer bottle. Mac rose and retrieved two more from the refrigerator, handing one to her young friend.

"I'm no shrink, but I sense that something is bothering you-besides the operation." She shrugged, "But, like I said, you can tell me I'm out of line."

Exhaling sharply, Devon ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. She closed her eyes and tried to sort through her rampant thoughts of trust, betrayal, friendship, love, integrity, honor

truth. Looking into Mac's eyes, she saw nothing resembling anything but sincerity and compassion. She decided to trust her instincts.

"Alex and I have known each other a long time. We were friends in college; actually she was my closest friend. When I got to NSA, I looked her up and we started working on the Intel project together. Then

we became lovers. Now, we're both here, and I'm afraid that my feelings are affecting my decision making." Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, "The thought of her dropping into that terrorist camp made me nearly lose my mind."

Mac moved her chair directly in front of where Devon sat, leaning forward to look directly into her eyes. Softly, she said, "I'm sure she feels the same about you being on point for the rangers and in the line of fire."

"That's not the same." Devon protested.

"Doesn't matter. Risk is still involved. It's very difficult to love someone who does the kinds of things we all do, Devon. It's scary." Mac paused, and her eyes drifted, recalling some pain from the past. "Our situation makes it that much more difficult because we have to pretend that we don't even care." As she finished a tear slid down Mac's right cheek.

"Gosh, I'm sorry," Devon put her hand lightly on Mac's knee, suddenly concerned for her friend. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories for you. You okay?"

Mac shook her head and smiled sadly, "You didn't do anything, Dev."

Devon looked doubtfully at her as Mac went on. "Just promise me that you will talk to Alex before the operation. Don't leave any of your feelings left unsaid, okay?

We move in just a couple of days. I don't want either of you to have any regrets."

#

An hour later, Devon walked restlessly across the compound. She knew she should be tired at 2330, but she wasn't. She couldn't stop thinking about Alex and where their relationship was going. Did she even dare think of a future with Alex after the disastrous relationship with Jillian? Now, there was even more at stake than just hiding their relationship. This place was truly dangerous. A loud explosion sounded in the distance as if to make her point.

Still, Devon couldn't deny that she longed for Alex's touch. Alex touched her in so many ways. She loved the way she could debate politics and world events with her. She craved the stimulation, mentally and now physically that was uniquely Alex. It seemed as though Alex was the one right thing in this crazy world. So, what was missing? Had the experience with Jillian scarred her so much that she could never feel that deeply about someone again?

Soon, she found herself climbing into a jeep and exiting the fenced section of the military portion of the airport compound. She stared toward the city and the separate cluster of buildings housing the CIA personnel, her passion and reason struggling within her. Unable to stop herself, she continued the short trip to the CIA building and entered the housing unit.

Devon nodded to the guard at the front entrance and made her way to the stairwell and the second floor, following the hallway to the last room at the east end.

Remembering the last time she entered Alex's room, she shuddered slightly. Drawing a deep breath, not knowing what the response this time would be to her presence, she knocked and waited.

A moment later, Alex opened the door just a crack, peering out. The room behind her was dark. "Dev? Is that you?"

"Yeah." Devon stood perfectly still waiting for her response.

The door opened wider and Alex reached out to grasp Devon by the hand, pulling her inside the darkened room. Alex guided Devon toward the bed and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. She sat cross-legged next to Devon, her knees touching Devon's thigh.

"I'm sorry to show up so late," Devon said. Alex studied the face she knew so well, seeing a kaleidoscope of emotions swimming in the blue eyes.

"Something wrong?"

"No, well

I just wanted to see you."

Devon was uncertain what to say. She needed Alex to understand what she was feeling, but she knew that her feelings about what should be done would be the opposite of Alex's as far as taking out the terrorists were concerned. What she was much less certain of was trying to explain to Alex how she felt personally, hell she didn't even understand herself.

"Al-" she was interrupted by Alex's hand reaching into her uniform shirt, pulling on the t-shirt beneath to slide warm fingers along her abdomen. Devon gasped softly at the sensation of her lovers knowing touch immediately sending her blood racing through her veins. Alex leaned in to place soft kisses along her neck, destroying her ability to form coherent sentences. She shifted slightly away, trying to regain her thoughts.

"Alex, listen

please." Her hand stopped the advance of Alex's fingers toward her breasts.

Alex shifted so that she could look directly into Devon's eyes. "I know you are going to do what you think the Army should do. I'm going to do what the CIA does.

We cannot change that, so there's no point in wasting our energy on things we can't control."

Her hand resumed its exploration of Devon's torso, sliding up to capture a nipple between her fingers. She squeezed tightly, to accentuate her next statement, "I am only interested in what I can control," Sliding her tongue up until it found a soft earlobe, she pulled it into her mouth.

Alex's hot breath was directly in Devon's ear, "You and I together. That's all that matters to me."

Suddenly, the only reality was Alex's body pressed into her. Alex's lips firing her blood with every point of contact on her skin. Vaguely, Devon's brain registered the sound of automatic weapons fire and mortars exploding in the distance as she pulled Alex down on top of her on the bed. The reality of their lives and responsibilities would be there in the morning. Tonight there was only the two of them, lost in the passion of one another. The rest of the world would have to wait.

Chapter 25

October 20, 0400 hrs

"The drop zone will be 500 meters to the South of the target site." Major Kelly pointed to the location circled on the map hanging behind him on the wall.

Surveying the room, he noted the intensely determined expressions on the personnel present.

In addition to Mac, Devon and their ISA team, Captain Armstrong, the Delta Force commander was readying his assault team for the mission. The major continued, "Devon, you and Jeff will be in the air with the DF equipment. W e'll take final readings just prior to the drop, and then I'll monitor from here during the operation. Mike, you and Dave will be here downloading the signals from the mobile equipment and monitor the overall radio traffic for enemy responses or unforeseen problems." The group nodded.

The Delta Force Captain stepped forward. "My team will load up in the Blackhawk with you at 0415, Mac."

Turning to Devon, he said, "As soon as you get the final fix coordinate to confirm the drop, lieutenant, we will proceed directly to the zone and commence the insertion. W e anticipate the time from the drop to target acquisition to be less than ten minutes. Is there any change in the estimated numbers of enemy personnel at the site?"

"Not at this time, we still estimate the number of armed combatants to be ten to twelve."

"Fine," Armstrong said, "My men will execute the operation as planned. We take out the combatants and secure any equipment or other documents for intelligence purposes. I will radio you when we are secure and ready for extraction, Mac."

"I'll be there with your ride," Mac grinned.

"Okay, people that's it. We move in ten minutes." The major stood to leave, "Good luck everyone."

#

Under cover of the predawn darkness, the Blackhawk rose skyward carrying the strike team toward their intended target. Ten minutes later, Mac had maneuvered them into position, lowering the helicopter to twenty feet off the ground. Captain Armstrong looked to Devon, who was taking final readings with the onboard equipment. She nodded affirmatively to the captain.

Armstrong stood, and gave them a thumbs up, and then stepped out the side of the helicopter followed in quick succession by the rest of his men. The helicopter immediately lifted skyward and banked toward the north.

"Insertion complete, major." Mac's steady voice advised.

"Roger that. Armstrong, do you read me?" He called to the Delta Force commander.

"Affirmative, major. So far, all clear. W e are a click away from the compound. I'll get back to you once we're inside." The connection went silent.

The minutes dragged on as they waited for Armstrong. The sound of automatic weapons fire pierced the night. Devon grabbed a pair of night vision binoculars, training them in the direction of the target. She saw shadowy figures running and muzzle flashes; a figure that appeared to be the first perimeter guard fell to the ground. The team pressed forward. More shots. As they entered the inner perimeter of the compound, Devon could no longer see what was happening. She put the binoculars down and turned to Jeff, who was monitoring the radio receivers for communications.

"Anything?"

He shook his head, "It appears that we were successful in our surprise move. They would have transmitted something if they knew we were coming."

Mac continued to hold the Blackhawk in a hover pattern, her eyes scanning the horizon, now just beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn. She glanced over at Devon and winked.

Five minutes later, Armstrong's voice strong and clear announced, "All secure. Repeat. All secure."

"Copy," Mac returned, "Just give the word and we'll be right there to get you."

"Devon, I have something," Jeff's voice was a tense. Devon pulled the left side of her headset down to listen. A voice was shouting something in an Arabic language in her ear. "He's saying that the compound has been attacked. They're gonna have company soon."

"Armstrong, they got a message out somehow, they know you're there. W e have to get you out," Devon spoke urgently to the captain.

"Roger, we just need a few more minutes to secure the data."

"W e don't have much time," Mac interjected. She pointed toward the west, where a vehicle was quickly approaching, a cloud of dust rising in its wake. "Dale, you have visitors," she said. "We're coming in. Get your team to the extraction point, now."

Mac guided the chopper back to the designated rally point, keeping the bird high until she saw Armstrong's team running toward the area. Devon looked out the other side of the helicopter and could see the vehicle approaching was a truck loaded with unfriendly forces that were no doubt heavily armed. Mac set the Blackhawk down as the sound of weapons fire erupted all around them. Devon heard the ping, ping sound as rounds struck the metal exterior.

"W e have to hurry," Mac shouted. As the first members of the team reached the side of the helicopter, Devon and Jeff began pulling them inside. The whirling of the blades was stirring up a massive cloud vortex in the sand, making it difficult to see. As the seventh man climbed aboard, fighters began jumping from the approaching truck, spraying automatic fire in their direction. Horrified, Devon saw Armstrong fall to the ground twenty feet from the chopper.

"I can't stay down here much longer," Mac yelled.

The team began returning fire from the other side of the helicopter. He's not gonna make it. Without another thought, Devon leapt from the opening where she had been standing, reminding herself to drop and roll as she landed. Bending low, she ran toward the captain who was now crawling in her direction. As Devon reached him, she could see blood soaking his right pant leg.

"Come on," Devon yelled as she put her arm around his back under his arm, pulling him to his feet. "We've got to move."

Mac watched as bullets struck the ground around the pair running, kicking up little wisps of dust as they ricocheted across the ground. She raised the chopper up slightly so that she could turn the aircraft, shielding them as much as she possibly could, while her passengers continued to return fire at the approaching fighters.

Devon's muscles strained with the added weight of supporting Armstrong as she pushed her legs steadily toward the safety of the helicopter. The bird lifted up into the air as they reached a distance of about ten feet. Looking up, she saw a soldier lean out of the side opening to with an assault rifle, efficiently eliminating two fighters dangerously close to their position.

As they drew closer, a rappelling rope with a harness fell from the opening above. Reaching up to grasp the rope, she pulled it around both of their waists and stepped through the loop, pulling the remaining strap between her legs and clipping it to her belt. Then she crouched into a sitting position allowing the strap to fully support her body weight, and pulled Armstrong down onto her lap, pushing the first strap through to his belt, securing them together. She pulled twice on the strap, signaling the team to pull them in.

They ascended into the air with thick clouds of sand threatened to suffocate them. Devon pressed Armstrong's head into her body and placed her forehead on his shoulder to shield their faces. She heard bullets whizzing by them in the air. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing and the certainty of the upward pull of the rope inching the pair to the safety of the interior of the helicopter. Moments later, strong hands were pulling them on board and Mac lifted them quickly higher, simultaneously banking to the south, away from the continuous barrage of gunfire. Soon they were out of range and beginning their approach to the landing zone of the airport.

Mac radioed for a medical team to meet them on the ground. Armstrong's team medic kept pressure on his wound as they flew. As soon as they touched the tarmac, the men swiftly lifted the captain out of the helicopter to the waiting gurney and he was quickly moved into a waiting ambulance and whisked away to the hospital. Devon sat down on the ground, leaning against the vertical bar of the skid, resting her elbows on her bent knees she cupped her face in her hands listening to the blades of the Blackhawk slowly wind to a stop.

Devon gathered her thoughts and stood, heading directly to the com center to assess the success of the strike and hopefully, get a sense of the enemy response. They spent the next eight hours debriefing and analyzing the data that the team was gathering from the explosion of chatter and signals intercepted following the team's strike on the compound. Finally, at 1800hrs, Devon told the team to call it a night. She was teetering on the brink of exhaustion, physically and mentally, having had no time to process the close call at the extraction site.

Mac stayed behind, watching Devon closely. She sensed a growing fatigue and wanted to make sure that Devon had an ear if she needed to talk. Devon felt a hand grasp her upper right arm and looked up to see Mac regarding her with concern. The left side of Devon's mouth turned up in a slow grin. "Thanks for the ride this morning."

Mac grinned back, then seeing a large tear in Devon's shirt and what looked like blood, she frowned, "Let me see that." She pulled the outer shirt open, revealing the corresponding tear in the t-shirt beneath. Raising the t-shirt to get a better look, Mac saw a laceration approximately four inches long at the left side of Devon's abdomen that looked deep enough to need stitches. "You need to get that looked at."

Devon started to protest, but Mac put her hand up to silence her. "I'll pull rank if I have to lieutenant," she raised an eyebrow as if daring her to argue.

Devon raised both hands in surrender, "Okay, okay."

"That's better. Let's go," Mac helped Devon to her feet and together they walked to the field hospital.

#

"Get out of my way!"

Just as the corpsman was pulling the last suture into place, the green curtain was forcefully jerked aside and Devon looked up to see Alex's panicked face. Mac stood just behind her looking sheepishly at Devon.

"I tried to stop her." Alex flashed a glare over her shoulder at Mac as the captain looked at Devon for help.

"W hat in the hell happened?" Alex demanded.

Mac started to retreat back behind the curtain. Again, Alex momentarily fixed the brunette with an icy stare, "Oh, I'll be out to talk to you later." Devon tried to suppress a smile as she heard Mac moan from the other side of the green drape. Alex rounded back to her, "I don't see what you find funny right now, Devon James." Her hands were on her hips, eyes flaming, and Devon thought she'd never seen Alex look so beautiful.

"It's just a little scratch," Devon offered, her eyes fixed on Alex's letting her feelings show. The tenderness in her blue eyes melted her heart and Alex couldn't help but release her anger.

She blew out a sharp breath and looked away momentarily, "Damn you," she said under her breath. She moved to a stool beside the bed and sat quietly while the corpsman bandaged the wound, then gave Devon a tetanus shot. When she saw Devon wince slightly as the shot was administered, she thought, It serves you right.

The young man gave Devon instructions for cleaning the wound and told her to come back in a few days to have it checked.

"You'll be good as new in no time, Lieutenant." He smiled at her.

"Thanks," Devon said as the medic stepped out. She stood and began pulling on her t-shirt.

Alex stepped closer, retrieving the outer shirt from the bed. She looked up at Devon, trying so hard to be mad, but she couldn't. W hen they heard that a member of the ISA team had been shot during a raid on the Shi'a compound, Alex was in a panic. When she couldn't get any information at the headquarters, she decided to come straight to the hospital herself. She was so damn glad that all Devon had gotten was a few stitches. Now, all she wanted to do was hold her.

After checking on Armstrong, Mike gave the three women a ride back to the barracks. The captain took a round to the right leg, but no permanent damage was done. The doctors expected him to make a full recovery. Devon had stuck her head in to say hello before leaving the hospital, but he was asleep. She resolved to return the next day following the morning debriefing.

Once upstairs, Mac offered, "Can I buy you ladies a drink?"

Devon looked at Alex for an answer. Alex shrugged, "Why not, I feel like I need a double."

"Great," Mac said, "I know you two must be hungry, 'cause I know I'm starving. I'll have one of the guys go grab us a pizza from the mess tent. That okay?"

"You are a lifesaver," Devon said gratefully.

Alex and Devon sat on the small loveseat next to the desk on the opposite wall of the bed in the small room while Mac poured each a shot and handed both women a cold beer. She raised her shot, "To successful missions."

Alex finally spoke, looking back and forth between the two Army officers, "So, now is somebody going to tell me just what was successful about today's mission?

Other than the fact that you didn't get yourselves killed?"

"That would top the list," Mac laughed, then stifled it quickly when she saw the laser stare that Alex shot her. "How about I go check on the pizza and let you two have a few minutes?" She made a hasty exit without waiting for a reply.

Alex rested her left elbow on Devon's right shoulder and lightly traced the line of her jaw and down her neck with her index finger. Devon closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the top of the cushion, letting out a soft groan. It was nearly 2100 hours and she was exhausted from the day, plus her side was starting to ache.

"Dev," Alex said softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Part of me is really pissed, you know." The sharp edge in her voice made Devon sit up and look at her closely. Alex placed her fingertips lightly on Devon's lips as she started to defend herself. "No, hear me out." Her voice was softer now. Devon nodded.

"I've been thinking all day about territory and who's right and agency rivalry and God knows what else. I finally realized it doesn't matter who gets the credit. The important thing is that those bastards who are responsible for the April bombing got what's coming to them." Devon smiled at Alex. Alex continued, "Of course, my team is mad as hell right now. I guess sleeping with you affects my judgment."

Devon reached up to slide her hand along the side of Alex's neck and caressed her creamy skin. She let the brown hair flow over her fingers as she ran her hand through the silky shoulder length strands. "Lucky for me, I guess." She allowed a slow smile form first in her eyes then tug at the corner of her mouth for a soft crooked grin.

Alex couldn't resist that oh so sexy look and she dipped in for a sweet gentle kiss full of gratitude and wonder. They jumped when the door opened and Mac stepped through carrying a large pizza box and another six pack of beer.

An hour later, the pizza box was empty and they were finishing the last of the beer. Standing to pick up the empty bottles and deposit them in the trash, Devon looked gratefully at Mac.

"Thanks for everything today. We wouldn't have made it out if you hadn't kept your cool."

"Hey, I stayed inside the chopper. You were the one who jumped out to grab Dale and pull him in with bullets zipping past your head. You earned your money today, kid." Mac gave Devon a look of respect that made her blush.

"Thanks," she managed. "Sorry to eat and run, but I feel like I could sleep standing up right here and we have a lot of work to do in the morning."

"You two get some sleep."

"Thank-you Mac. Goodnight." Alex said.

"Goodnight," Mac replied. Just before the door closed, she called, "Devon?"

Devon leaned back into the room. "Yes?"

"Great job today, I'm proud to serve with you. Goodnight." Devon nodded thanks and closed the door quietly.

Chapter 26

When Devon woke, the first hint of morning was casting a mute grey light across the room. Alex was still curled up on her right side, and she thought that neither one of them must have moved once they fell asleep. Turning her head slowly, trying not to disturb the sleeping woman, she checked the bedside clock which read 0517. She closed her eyes again, grateful that the major had given them a reprieve, they weren't briefing until 0900. The thought of having a few extra hours was heavenly.

"W hat time is it?" Alex's head was still resting on her shoulder.

"Early."

"Good, then we can stay here and snuggle," She adjusted her body to fit more closely to the contours of Devon's.

Devon smiled and kissed the top of her head. "What time do you have to be at work?" She absently ran her fingers through Alex's hair.

"Seven."

Laughing, now, Devon said, "Well, then, I've got bad news, for you it's not that early. You'd better get going."

Leaning up on one elbow and pouting, Alex playfully squeezed Devon's left nipple, her eyes danced when she felt it immediately stiffen at her touch. "You really want me to leave?"

"No, I do not," Devon said her voice low and husky. She tightened her hold on Alex and pulled her down onto her. She winced when Alex's body made contact with the injured area on her abdomen.

"A little sore still?" Alex asked her eyes full of concern.

"Not too bad," Devon replied. She cupped her hand on the left side of Alex's neck and ran her thumb along her jaw before tracing the outline of her lips. "Have dinner with me tonight?"

"If I can," Alex kissed Devon lightly then climbed out of the bed and reached for her clothes. Pulling on her shirt, she continued, "Everything's gonna be crazy now that you guys have stirred up the hornets' nest. We'll have to get a handle on what is happening with the various terror groups in the wake of the strike." She tucked her shirt into her jeans, "could be a long day."

"That's alright," Devon said, "I'll be at the command center all day, and by the time we sort through everything we confiscated out there, I figure it will be late. Just call me and we'll try to make it work, if not I understand."

Just as they predicted, they day was beyond hectic. The extraction team had confiscated good intelligence materials, but they were coded and referenced other organizations and the team would need time to trace the information to credible sources for additional target identification. Devon drove over to the hospital at lunch to check on Armstrong, who looked to be in good spirits and itching to get back to work. The rest of the afternoon was spent poring over seemingly endless data in the computers, searching for the elusive but vital link to the main terrorist headquarters.

#

A little after eight o'clock, the phone on the wall rang and Devon picked it up on the second ring. "Com center, Lt. James speaking, can I help you sir?" She recited the standard military answering protocol in a staccato, machine like monotone.

"W hy, yes, lieutenant, you may help me," the warm female voice answered.

Alex could hear the smile in Devon's voice as she spoke, "Well, then it must be my lucky day."

"Could be. Are we still on for that dinner you promised me?" Sitting back in her chair, Devon closed her eyes and allowed the softness of Alex's voice to melt away the tension of the day.

"You know it, but I still have about an hour of work to do. You want me to come there?" Devon asked, "It might be a good idea to have dinner in. Her voice was a low sultry timbre now. "I think you will find that I'm not as tired as last night."

"W ell, then, I can hardly wait," Alex replied softly, "But, I can take care of dinner, if we're staying in. I'll come to you."

"See you in about an hour and a half?"

"Make it less. If I get there before you, I'll get Mac to let me in." Devon could hear the desire in Alex's voice as she countered, then the line was disconnected.

Devon checked her watch as she hurried from the ops center, feeling like she was late already. It was just over an hour since she had hung up the phone with Alex, but a sixth sense told her that she would be early. She took the stairs two at a time and nearly double-timed down the hallway to the door at the end.

Opening the door, she saw that Alex had not yet arrived, so she quickly stripped off her uniform, grabbed a clean t-shirt and boxers and headed for the shower.

Less than ten minutes later, she returned rubbing a white towel furiously over her head, as she entered the room. She stopped suddenly to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Alex had lit several small candles that were now the only illumination in the room. Their dinner plates were on the small coffee table in front of the tan love seat, along with a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

Devon could only shake her head and grin with wonder. "Where did you get the wine?"

"I have my sources," she smiled coyly.

Alex slowly crossed the distance to stand directly in front of Devon, so close that Devon could feel the heat of her body. Devon combed her fingers through the dark hair that fell across her forehead, brushing it back from her face. She bent and kissed Alex softly, her lips lingering longer than the usual greeting, a promise of more to come. Alex leaned back breaking the contact, smiling as she saw the desire swimming in the pools of blue that held her gaze.

Devon wrapped her arms around Alex's tiny waist pressing their hips and thighs together. Her eyes roaming over the darker woman's face, traveling down her neck, finally resting on the hint of her breasts visible through the nearly sheer white fabric of her shirt, Devon let out a growling noise. "W hy didn't I ever realize how truly amazing and beautiful you are when we were in college?"

Alex shrugged and looked shyly up at Devon. "I'm glad you're here now." She led Devon to sit at the table. Raising their glasses, they sipped the chilled wine while they lost themselves in each other's eyes for long moments. They ate dinner quietly, content to be together. About halfway through the meal, Alex dribbled some wine on her chin and Devon leaned over to catch the drip with her tongue, then moving down the column of Alex's neck, she kissed and lightly nibbled the exposed skin as Alex let out a soft moan.

The food now forgotten, Devon reached down and cupped Alex through her shorts, feeling her need soaking through the fabric, the sensation sending Devon's blood racing and her head spinning. "Ahhh, God Alex," she breathed as she felt her own wetness flow. "Bed." Alex gasped. They stood and pulled off the shorts and t-shirts as they moved to the bed and again found each other.

Soft moans, kisses, and the rustle of the bed linens gave way to the sharper cries and groans as the two lovers soared in the sensations of the other's body and unbridled desire. Devon held Alex as the aftershocks slowly gave way to blissful exhaustion, "W ow," she slowly grinned. She felt as if her bones had melted.

"Yeah," was all Alex could manage in response. She had never experienced the intensity of the passion she felt with Devon and she never wanted it to end, but she knew instinctively that Devon's heart was still not healed. Don't push her too hard, she'll run. Just be patient, she'll see how right we are together.

"Dev?" When she got no answer, she realized that Devon had already fallen asleep. She kissed her gently on the temple, then laying her head on her shoulder, allowed the steady cadence of Devon's breathing to lull her to sleep.

Chapter 27

Devon woke early, energized and ready to get to work. She and Alex parted company outside the barracks and Devon hurried to the operations center. She felt certain that the break they needed was imminent. At just after 0600, she turned to see Mike making his way across the room to her, a pink message note in his hand.

"Morning," she smiled, and held the coffee pot up, offering him a cup.

Mike held the paper out to her exchanging it for the coffee in her hand. "You got a call early this morning from somebody stateside," he said, "a Petty Officer Baxter?"

Devon snatched the paper from his hand, "Ann?" she said aloud as her eyes scanned the message scribbled on the paper. Urgent that you call me. She looked at the large digital clock on the wall, displaying current time zones across the globe, 2105hrs Eastern Standard Time. Not too late to call Ann at home.

"Thanks," Mike looked at her with a puzzled expression as she strode away from him to the small office area and her desk.

Finding Ann's name in her rolodex, Devon dialed the number to Ann's apartment in Chevy Chase, MD. After what seemed forever, she heard the ringing on the other end of the line. "Hello?" Ann's voice sounded tired and guarded even through the slight static on the line.

"Ann, its Devon."

"Devon? Oh, thank God you got my message." Her voice was stronger now, but still strained.

"I did. What's going on?" There was a silence on the line. "Ann?"

"I'm here." Again silence as the petty officer weighed what she could say. Finally, she decided that she should just spit it out and trust the lieutenant to know what to do. She could get into trouble for giving out this information, but it directly affected U.S. forces' safety, and that included Devon. Nothing was more important than that. To hell with the political bullshit.

"A message was intercepted last week. It came from Iranian intelligence headquarters in Tehran to their Ambassador in Damascus." Ann drew a deep breath and continued, "It instructs him to contact Islamic Hamal, and take spectacular action against the marines in Lebanon."

Devon's mind raced with the implications of this information. Islamic Hamal was a splinter faction of the new terrorist group Hezbollah. That would explain the gaps in the intercepts that her team was able to intercept. Hamal might be using separate channels to send messages independently of the Shiite leadership. Iran is backing this? W ith Syrian connections? That's the worst possible scenario. That means that they have monetary and military capabilities far beyond what was previously believed. Devon shuddered.

"W hat are they doing about the memo?"

"I haven't heard anything." Ann said. "I just wanted you to know, since you're right there Devon. I think they should have told us to send this information to you, but every time I ask, they tell me they are handling the situation through diplomatic channels. Have they sent you any warnings?"

"No, and the marines have received no orders to go on heightened alert. Christ, Ann, they still don't have rounds in the chambers of their weapons." She thought about the increase in sniper fire and shelling in the past couple of weeks.

"Devon, I've been doing some extra work on the fixes and compiling the data, the way you used to." She paused, "There is a spike in activity in your area. Things are really heating up from the looks of it. You need to be careful."

"I will Ann, thanks for the call. I owe you." Devon said seriously.

"Just get yourself back here in one piece, lieutenant." Ann said affectionately.

"Don't you worry." Devon hung up the phone, trying to absorb the gravity of the information she had just received.

Jumping up from her chair, she yelled for Mike as she crossed the com center. "Mike! Widen your frequency scan. Tell Dave that I want any Syrian or Iranian communications monitored, high priority from now on. Fixes will be taken on all of the intercepts, and I want those, along with the normal fix and signal printouts on my desk hourly."

"But that's a lot of information to sift through, lieutenant." Mike said doubtfully.

"Then you better start moving. Somebody call Mac and have her come in." With that, she hurried to the secure phone on the wall and dialed Alex's number.

"How did you get that information?" Alex asked Devon cautiously.

Devon was incredulous, "Who cares? This is the most important information we've gotten in months. The safety of the entire multinational force and our personnel in particular, is at stake! This is a real threat, and they're still walking around with weapons that aren't fucking loaded, Alex!" She realized she was yelling and worked to reign in her anger.

"Our people have known for a while about the Iranian connection," Alex said in a businesslike tone, "The communiqué to the Ambassador merely confirms their involvement, but in our opinion, because there is no timeframe specified, it does not yet constitute a credible threat. The State Department is working on the diplomatic end and they assure us that is the best way to handle this as of now. Accusing Syria of assisting Iran and the terrorists would not be in our country's best interest right now."

Devon thought her head would explode. "This is exactly why military people get so god damned pissed off at you civilian types!" she bellowed into the phone. "I cannot believe that you don't think that telling military people to at least be prepared isn't the right thing to do. They-we have to be able to protect ourselves." She was gripping the receiver of the phone so hard her hand ached.

Alex said stonily, "Us civilian types, as you call us, are just as interested in preventing an attack, lieutenant." She angrily accented the last word. Then she breathed in deeply and closed her eyes to dispel some of her frustration. When she spoke again her voice was calmer, "Listen, Dev, just give me a couple more days to see where the State Department folks are on this. I promise you, if things get worse, I'll get my boss to brief the General and move to high alert. Okay?"

A couple of days. Devon still didn't like it, but she supposed she had no choice in the matter. She rubbed her eyes to trying to ward off the headache that was beginning to pound in her scull behind them. "Alright," She said, relenting. "In the mean time, we are going to be scanning our asses off and gathering any intel we can get. You know I'm not going to stop, Al."

"Yes, I know." Alex smiled now. "I'll be working late tonight, so call me tomorrow, okay?

"Okay."

Devon hung up the phone and went directly to the center of the DF station determined not to miss a vital piece of information that might buy them enough time to avert disaster. This was her time, the reason she had been brought here. She would use all of her skills, and her unorthodox methods to gain the upper hand in this signals game. The only way to win was to piece together the electronic clues and thereby stay a step ahead of those who wanted to harm Americans stationed in Beirut. Devon vowed to do everything in her power to buy the ground forces time. But in her heart she knew time was running out.

Chapter 28

October 23, 1983 0530hrs

The young idealistic Iranian man climbed into the cab of the yellow Mercedes Benz water delivery truck five miles from the Beirut airport. Today, the delivery would not be water but retribution. He did not speak as his comrades moved around the exterior of the vehicle, ensuring that all of the explosives and detonating charges were in place. His eyes were flat black disks and his countenance calm. He knew his duty. He would be in the hands of Allah soon, martyred for their righteous cause, sending a message to the Zionist infidels. They holy land would soon be liberated. He was unafraid.

Chapter 29

October 23, 0545hrs

Devon rose early to fit in her run before heading into the com center to continue her work on the intelligence that the team had gathered during the raid. Now they were also desperately searching for a link exposing Islamic Hamal. Hezbollah was the key, she knew, and she now had information confirming her gut feeling that the Iranians were supporting them behind the scenes. Too many signs pointed to that. She had nothing concrete to take to the major, however. Not yet. Energized she stepped out of the housing unit and walked briskly toward their operations center.

"Dev, wait up." Devon turned at the sound of Mac's voice.

"Morning." Devon smiled as Mac fell into step. "You're up early, on a Sunday no less."

Regarding her friend with a crooked grin and raised eyebrow, "No hot date last night? You slippin'?"

Mac shoved her blond friend playfully, "You're one to talk. I saw you and Alex leaving the barracks yesterday morning." Her tone became suggestive, "No repeat performance last night?"

Devon shook her head and laughed. "No, you know the drill with us. I asked her about the message from my friend at NSA, and that led to professional conflicts. I tend to piss her off when I call the super spooks' judgment into question." Her face grew serious, "Mac, this thing is real, I can feel it." Devon looked around and skyward as they walked in the predawn darkness, feeling unsettled by the unusual quiet.

"W ell, you got me all worked up about this intercepted message. I knew you would be in at the crack of dawn, so I wanted to come and help." Mac was the only one that Devon entrusted with the information that Ann had given her.

"Thanks, we'll be the only ones working today, so I can use all the help I can get. Can you take care of plotting the identified target coordinates so that I can keep going through the transcripts?"

"No problem." Mac said, "But you owe me dinner tonight."

"I'll even throw in drinks, how 'bout that?" Devon asked.

"Now you're talking."

#

At 0621hrs, the yellow Mercedes Benz delivery truck approached the exterior fence surrounding the main entrance to the U.S. Marines barracks. Most of the military personnel were still sleeping, enjoying the unusually quiet Sunday morning. As the 12,000 pound truck bomb approached, the Marine guards at the gate were not alarmed. As one guard approached the gate preparing to open it for the apparent water delivery, he could see the driver in the truck smiling as he approached.

Seconds later, at 0622, the yellow truck accelerated and slammed through the barbed wire fence as the guards struggled to chamber rounds in their M16 rifles in order to get off a shot. The truck careened past the guards, barreled through the sandbag barrier and crashed head on into the lobby of the barracks building.

As Devon was pulling up a chair to begin examining the previous night's communication intercepts, the quiet of the morning was suddenly shattered by a thunderous explosion and the ground shook with such ferocity that the floor beneath her buckled and she was thrown without warning into the computer console.

She could dimly hear the sounds of breaking glass and shouting in the distance. She heard Mac curse colorfully.

"W hat the hell?" Devon said as she stood up. She and Mac ran outside to see what had just happened. "Some kind of explosion?" she asked rhetorically as they exited the building. When the two Army officers emerged from their communications center, approximately three hundred and fifty yards from the Marine barracks, the carnage they saw was stunning.

The entire four story structure of the barracks, with its reinforced steel concrete supporting pillars, measuring fifteen feet in circumference each, was crashing back to the earth, having been levitated by an incomprehensible force. As the massive building imploded upon itself, another massive shock wave shook the ground and a wall of flaming gas was thrown in all directions from the point of impact.

The resulting smoke and flying debris generated by the blast was already covering the entire airport area. Devon looked in horror as windows in the officer's quarters 100 feet from the barracks and twenty feet in the air, shattered instantly with the concussion of the building's explosion. The blast sent hot air and debris flying around them and both women fell to the ground, attempting to shield each other from the projectiles.

They jumped to their feet, the reality of the fact that this was not some kind of accident, but a deliberate attack beginning to sink in and galvanizing them into action. They ran in the direction of the site, intent on engaging any attackers still alive, locating survivors or assisting with casualties. As they ran, a minute later another tremendous explosion rocked the compound, taking both women off their feet again.

Mac yelled, "You okay?" Devon spit dirt from her mouth and felt a stabbing pain in the tender place on her side where the stitches were healing.

"Yeah," Devon yelled over the gathering chaotic noise. "You?"

Mac nodded and was already moving forward, pulling Devon up as she reached her. They both were sprinting again in the direction of the barracks. Absently, Devon registered debris sticking out of palm trees thirty feet in the air. Smoke and dust filled the air, making breathing more and more difficult as they drew closer to the horrific inferno. The sickening smell of charred flesh mixed with the putrid stench of propane and powder from the explosives along with the sounds of moaning and cries from victims accosted their senses.

Devon, Mac and countless others desperately began digging with their bare hands through the rubble, lifting huge concrete slabs, searching for survivors in the wreckage. As they dug deeper, they at times crawled across severed limbs and other body parts of victims. They were spurred on by the sounds of cries from deep within rubble, knowing that survivors were still trapped beneath; they would not give up. Snipers in the hills took shots at them periodically, making the hellish nightmare more unbelievable. Devon did not look up, she couldn't worry about the bullets, she just kept digging and calling out to the marines trapped under tons of concrete who were desperate to be saved.

The rescuers carried bodies to a makeshift triage station that had been set up 200 yards away. Devon and Mac worked feverishly alongside marines and sailors who were fortunate enough to have been thrown from their beds by the blast, and clear of the collapsed building. Some of the victims' injuries were so severe that they died on the backs of their rescuers as they were being carried to the medics. They worked furiously, but as the afternoon grew shorter, they began to despair that no other victims would be found alive.

Devon squatted down to carefully lay the body of a young marine onto the tarp that was serving as the floor of the temporary morgue just outside the triage area.

They had run out of blankets or anything else to cover the bodies. She looked at his young face, thinking he didn't seem to be much more than a child. It was 1730hrs, and they had been pushing themselves past the level of physical strain that one would think was possible since dawn. Looking at the face of the handsome young marine something snapped inside Devon. She sank to her knees by his side, cradling her head in her hands, trying desperately to prevent the tears that stung her eyes from falling. She failed. Silently, she wept beside the body of the young man.

Devon felt a hand on her right shoulder and looked up to see the major standing over her. She jumped to her feet, swiping an angry hand across her face to remove the tears, feeling ashamed that she lost her composure when so much still needed to be done.

"I'm sorry sir; I'll get right back to work."

The major was smiling compassionately at her. "Devon, it's alright. We are all human. I would be worried if this tragedy didn't affect you." He squeezed the shoulder under his large hand. "You have worked your ass off today, and I'm proud of you."

Devon looked past the major toward the hulking shell that was the remains of the marine barracks. Smoke was still rising from the rubble and workers continued to comb through the debris, although the pace was decidedly less frenzied than earlier in the day. Gunfire continued to ring out intermittently from the hills in the distance. "But there is still work to do, sir." She said resolutely, turning her eyes back to meet his.

"Yes, and I have something that I would like you to do for me."

"Anything, sir."

"W e need more water, blankets and other supplies. I need you to find a couple of guys to take one of the jeeps to get whatever we can from the main airport building." He gestured toward the main building about two miles away.

"I'll go major." Devon squared her shoulders, "You need every available body to help with the search and rescue."

The major started to protest, but couldn't argue with her statement. He shifted his feet. "At least take someone with you." His eyes were a mixture of pride and fear as he looked at Devon realizing how much he had truly come to admire this young woman.

"I guess that would be me," Mac stepped up beside the major, a weary but determined look on her face.

The major nodded, "I better get back over there, thank you both. Be safe."

Mac and Devon ran to the helicopter wing to get their side arms and one M16 before jumping into the nearest jeep. They sped toward the service road of the airport, intent on completed this assignment and returning as quickly as possible to continue assisting with the ongoing search.

Mac pushed the Jeep to the limit, navigating the dirt access road without caution and Devon held onto the frame of the windshield to prevent her imminent ejection from the vehicle as it bounced along. In her left hand, she clutched the rifle, and scanned the surrounding area for signs of fighters that might attack them enroute. Neither one spoke, the gravity of the devastation that they had witnessed weighing on their consciousness as they drove. The sounds of painful cries reverberated in Devon's head and she struggled to concentrate on the job at hand to drive the agonizing sounds from her mind.

About a mile from their destination, they rounded a curve in the road and Devon saw the tires from what was apparently an overturned Jeep in a ditch off the right hand side of the road. "Stop!" she yelled pointing off the shoulder and standing up to try to see anyone around the vehicle. Mac jammed on the brakes and the Jeep skidded to a stop on the dirt surface.

Stepping from their vehicle cautiously, the two officers approached the wreck. Devon shouldered the M16 as she moved closer, leading with the rifle's muzzle, finger poised above the trigger, ready to fire should the occupants be enemy fighters. Mac made a wide arc from the driver's side of the Jeep approaching carefully as well, her .45 caliber pistol pointed at the wreckage as well. W hen they reached a distance of approximately 20 feet, they recognized that the Jeep was, in fact, a U.S. vehicle. Devon made one last 360 degree scan of the area with the rifle, and satisfied that they were safe for the moment, slung the weapon over her shoulder as she and Mac climbed into the ravine to search for the occupants.

The Jeep was sitting at a 45 degree angle in the ditch and Devon and Mac had to partially climb under to view the interior. They located a male who looked to be the driver partially trapped under the side of the Jeep. "He's alive," Mac yelled, "help me lift on this side and I think we can slide his legs out." Devon ran around to assist Mac. Lifting up on the side of the vehicle, they wedged the butt of the rifle underneath allowing them to pull the man free from the wreckage. They carried him to their Jeep, and as they placed him inside Devon realized that he did not appear to be military. The bullet wound in his left shoulder needed attention.

Devon and Mac climbed back down to the site, searching for any additional victims that may have been ejected in the crash. A moment later, Mac spotted another figure laying about 20 feet from the Jeep, face down in the sand.

"Dev! Over here, I have another one!"

Devon scrambled after Mac to help the second victim. She was about ten feet away when shots rang out from the south. Instinctively, Devon crouched and again shouldered the assault rifle, scanning past the front sight in the direction of the shots. She saw no one. She ran to where Mac was leaning over the second victim, searching desperately for a pulse. As Devon reached her side, Mac was turning the body over.

Devon's head swam and her knees threatened to buckle at the sight. Mac raised pained eyes to her, "Dev-"

Devon fell to her knees next to the still form. The world moved in a slow motion, distorted way. She reached out a trembling hand, to brush the brown hair away from the beautiful face. An angry deep red gaping hole was in the center of her chest and her brown eyes stared lifelessly at the sky. Devon pulled Alex's limp body to her breast, clutching to her. She let out an agonizing wail reminding Mac of an animal caught in the sharp teeth of a metal trap. The world around Devon spun wildly as she sobbed, rocking Alex's body from side to side as her own heart seemed to bleed and shatter.

Mac picked up the rifle when she heard shots again, scrambling back up to the road, she saw a group of fighters running toward their position. She couldn't tell how many due to the dust blowing clouds across the open space. She dove to the ground to assume a prone firing position and squeezed off four successive rounds. Her shots hit home on as two of the fighters slumped to the ground in mid stride. Their compatriots fanned out to find cover and quickly began returning fire. Mac scrambled back to the ditch, to take cover behind the Jeep.

"Devon! They're coming! W e have to get into a defensive position." When she got no response, only a low groaning sound from where she had left her, Mac low crawled to where Devon still clung to Alex's lifeless frame.

Shaking her forcefully, she yelled again, "Devon, we have to go! Come on, we have to get cover!" The sharpness in Mac's tone reached her consciousness, jerking her back to the reality around her. Scrambling back up the side of the embankment, they saw the masked fighters advancing again.

Mac kept the rifle on semi-automatic, wanting to conserve each bullet. They were out there alone and there was no telling how long they would have to make a stand. Again, she squeezed off her shots, successfully eliminating one more as the attackers continued to advance. They had closed to a distance of thirty yards.

"Three or four left, that I could see," She told Devon.

Devon closed her eyes, concentrating on the image of Alex's face. She turned her anguish into rage directed at the fighters, knowing that it was they who had killed her. She opened her eyes, sighted her pistol where she had seen the last one duck behind a large rock and waited. Her anger focused on the front sight, she saw movement and a blurred figure in the distance. When the shot exploded from her pistol she knew that it would hit home. The figure fell from her line of sight.

She heard the sound of the M16 next to her as Mac dropped one more. A fighter retreated into the distant rocks. They had no way to tell if the remaining attackers had fled or were waiting them out. After waiting almost ten minutes, Mac realized that they needed to get the male agent medical attention.

"W e have to make a break for it, Dev. That guy needs a doctor."

"W hat about Al-" her throat closed around her lover's name.

"W e're not leaving anyone behind today, Dev." The certainty in her friend's eyes was like a beacon in the raging storm battering Devon's soul.

They walked back to where Alex's body lay. Mac started to bend down to help when Devon pushed her hand out to stop her. Stepping back, Mac watched solemnly as Devon bent and carefully worked her arms under the supine woman's knees and shoulders, lifting her as she stood. Mac followed silently as she carried Alex's body from the ravine to their Jeep and placed her gently in the rear. The male agent, who was now awake, sat on the edge of the bumper. Devon then pulled a tarp from the corner of the cargo area and smoothed it over Alex, tracing her hands the length of her body.

Pop, pop, pop Devon irrationally leaned protectively over Alex's body at the sudden sounds of more gunfire. She was knocked against the side of the Jeep by some unseen force. Devon heard the sound of Mac yelling, and started to run in that direction, but her left leg buckled and she fell to the ground. A burning sensation traveled down her thigh toward her lower leg. She tried to push herself up to draw her firearm again, but her right arm would not move. Strange. She looked down at her body and saw a red color seeping into the fabric of tan camouflage. The burning sensation gave way to a searing pain in her leg and arm.

Devon closed her eyes against a sudden wave of nausea.

Mac's shouts grew louder, refocusing her mind as she swallowed the bile rising at the back of her throat. Devon heard the M16 firing again. The fight was not over. Struggling to shift her body weight and pull her pistol with her left hand she rolled to the left ignoring the stabbing pain that the pressure on the wound caused. Reaching across her body and struggling with the holster, she managed to extract the pistol. She vaguely registered movement to her right and raised the pistol to eye level just in time to see a figure in black, face covered, running toward her, his gun raised. Devon drew a deep breath and started to squeeze the trigger when suddenly she heard a loud pop and the assailant was thrown to the left. When he fell, she saw Mac step into her line of vision, the rifle pointed down at the fighter.

"Jesus Christ," Mac seethed, "Dev, you alright?"

Even as she asked, Mac could see the blood soaking through the left leg of Devon's pants and her right sleeve. "Holy fuck," she breathed.

Quickly, she stripped off her outer shirt, tearing it to make a tourniquet and tying it off on Devon's upper thigh. Checking the arm, she was thankful that it appeared to be mostly a flesh wound. "C'mon, let's get you in the jeep and get the hell out of here."

As Mac loaded her up next to Alex's body, Devon's mind reeled again with the loss. Forgetting her own injury, she pulled Alex's head onto her lap and laid her own head against the wheel well. The dizziness was starting to return and Devon focused on holding Alex with her right arm while the Jeep bounced along the road.

She closed her eyes trying to steel herself against the pain in her heart and her body.

As they arrived at the triage area, the sun was setting. Mac had radioed in that they had stopped for the rescue and taken enemy fire. The major and two CIA agents were waiting as the Jeep pulled to a stop. Devon sat motionless, oblivious to their presence, while the major spoke briefly to Mac. One of the agents assisted the injured man to the treatment area. The second agent approached the rear of the Jeep and leaned in to grasp Alex's body.

Devon did not release her hold. Her body was eerily still as her eyes, cold as steel met the agent's.

"Don't touch her." Her voice was low and menacing and edged with flint. Her face was a rigid mask devoid of any emotion.

The agent, unaccustomed to being told what to do by military people, made the error of challenging the lieutenant, "Look, she's one of ours, so you can just-"

With frightening swiftness, Devon had her good hand locked on the agents neck, squeezing his trachea like a vise.

"Aaaggg," was the only sound he could choke out.

Mac closed the distance grabbing Devon by the arm, "Dev, stop! This isn't the time." She pulled the agent away from the jeep, coughing and sputtering before he could land the punch he was about to launch at Devon's face.

The pain of the sudden movement and exertion overtook Devon and she released her hold, sinking back against the metal as her stomach again threatened to empty its contents. Her leg and arm throbbed when she pushed herself back up and reached out to hold Alex's hand in hers.

A few minutes later, Mac stood at the side of the Jeep, just over Devon's right shoulder. She tentatively touched her arm, "Hey," she said softly.

Devon didn't look up. "I just need a minute Mac," she whispered.

"Okay, my friend, but you really need to get looked at too."

Devon struggled to sit up straighter and bent to look one last time at Alex. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she silently wept. She placed her good hand on the side of the beautiful face, stroking it reverently. "I love you Alexandra." She choked out and placed a soft kiss on the partially opened mouth.

Abruptly, a sickening dizziness overcame her, and Devon tried desperately to grab for the side of the Jeep as her vision dimmed. Crying out for Alex, she felt herself freefalling, swallowed up by the darkness.

Chapter 30

December, Langley, VA

Devon entered the expansive lobby of the old headquarters building of the Central Intelligence Agency. The click of the cane and her footsteps on the marble floor echoed as she crossed the sixteen foot granite agency seal in the middle of the atrium. Her healing leg was fatigued from the walk from the metro stop in the cold air. It was early and she was alone in the majestic dignity of the room.

Making her way to the north side of the lobby, Devon approached the memorial, a plain light grey marble wall containing five rows of stars carved into the wall's surface. Each 2 ¼ inch star spaced exactly six inches apart represented the 87 CIA officers who served their country and made the ultimate sacrifice in silence.

Stopping about five feet from the wall, Devon's eyes wandered over every inch, respectfully taking in the moving tribute.

Above the rows of stars, she read the inscription carved into the wall, "In honor of those members of the Central Intelligence Agency who gave their lives in the service of their country." An American and CIA flag flanked either side of the stars, providing the only splashes of color against the soft grey marble.

"There's a memorial book, if you're looking for a particular name." Devon jumped slightly when the voice broke the silence next to her. A man who appeared to be some sort of tour guide smiled at her.

"Thank-you," she shook her head no and turned back toward the wall. The man lingered momentarily, considering the raw pain he glimpsed in Army officer's eyes.

Sensing he had intruded on a private moment, he melted away.

Devon slowly approached the wall, reaching out to place her fingertips on the last star on the bottom row. It was still black. In time it would age to a muted grey and Devon wondered if her painful memories would fade like the star. She closed her eyes and saw vividly the image of Alex's face staring lifelessly at her.

Forcing the image from her mind, Devon replaced it with Alex's smiling face the night of their first kiss, so innocent and beautiful. She drew a deep breath, savoring the pleasant image before opening her eyes again to look quietly at the star for a few moments.

Raising her eyes to the words inscribed above the entrance, Devon read, "And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free." Devon whispered aloud,

"Truth? Whose truth?"

"Alex," she said softly, "I will never forget your truth."

With that, she moved back to the wall, kissed the tips of her fingers, and pressed them to the dark star at the end of the last row. Then, placing her beret back on her head, she turned away from the wall and made her way out of the building into the cold December morning.

Chapter 31

January, 1984

Devon struggled to push the final two reps on her bench press, the muscles in her arms straining, her right triceps screaming at her. Sweat pouring out of every pore in her skin she forced the bar upward with a loud grunt. Last one. You can do this. She was desperate to get her arm and leg fully functional at last. The bar swayed and dipped dangerously to the right as Devon groaned loudly fighting to keep from dropping the weight. Hands came from behind her grasping the bar firmly and placing the weights onto the cleats.

"You shouldn't do that without a spotter." Devon's head snapped around at the sound of the familiar voice. Mac stood grinning down at her as Devon's face lit up She jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Mac's neck, the two women embracing each other fully.

"Oh, my God," Devon exclaimed, "what are you doing here?" She hadn't seen Mac since the day after the bombing three months before when they had transferred her to the military hospital in Germany before shipping her finally stateside at Walter Reed for her rehab. She was pleased to see that Mac looked well.

"W ell, I had my choice of station after Beirut, and I love D.C., so I figured, why not spend my last six months here?" Mac studied Devon's face, noting the sadness still dulling her usually crisp blue eyes and the dark hollows around them. She was thinner than Mac remembered and she looked down at the ace wrap on the other woman's left thigh. "How's the leg?"

"Better, thanks. I just keep the wrap on it while I'm working out. Doc says the nerves are still healing and that gives me fits sometimes, but I'm just glad to be able to feel it," Devon shrugged, looking around her at the soldiers, sailors and marines who had lost limbs or worse, "I know how fortunate I am." She picked up a white towel and wiped sweat from her face and neck.

"You still didn't answer the question," Devon regarded Mac with a raised eyebrow, "what are you doing here." She pointed to the floor for emphasis.

Mac chuckled and put an arm around her friend's shoulder as they walked to the locker room. She winced at Devon's obvious limp. "As I said, I am stationed here again, with First Army at Meade. I arrived yesterday morning." They stopped and moved aside as a female soldier, left leg amputated below the knee made her way past them on crutches toward the physical therapy area.

The woman nodded a greeting to them as she passed, "Captain." She addressed Mac, who was in uniform wearing her desert fatigues.

Mac nodded in return, "Good morning soldier," she smiled.

She continued her explanation as they stepped into the locker room, "I knew you were back at NSA, so I inquired with Petty Officer Baxter, who is very cute by the way, and she said you were here for your PT and working out. That's it. Here I am."

Devon saw a twinkle in Mac's eye briefly at the mention of Ann's name and she smiled to herself. That's a discussion for later over a beer. She pulled on dark green sweat pants and a thick grey sweatshirt that said AIRBORNE across the front. Mac picked up the gym bag for Devon.

"I can get that," Devon protested.

Mac rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know, always the independent one. But just shut up and let's go."

"Okay, but I buy dinner tonight." She was unable to conceal her delight at the prospect of having dinner with Mac. She had been so alone since coming back, unable to talk to anyone about her pain. It would be good to have the company of someone she didn't have to explain it to. She and Mac had survived that horrific experience and it would bond them for life.

"You have yourself a deal," Mac returned as she threw Devon's bag behind the seat of her black pickup before climbing behind the wheel as Devon got into the passenger side.

Chapter 32

After dinner, Mac drove them to a small bar in Baltimore for a couple of beers. The Club Mitchell was known for its weekend crowds when the small space was packed with women moving to the pulsating dance music and enjoying a few drinks in the company of other women. On weeknights, the club was a quieter place encouraging conversation in a relaxing atmosphere.

Devon nodded hello to several women she recognized from the base as they crossed the room and claimed a small table against the wall. Mac went to the bar as Devon sat surveying her surroundings. Devon noticed a dark haired woman at the bar watching Mac as she approached. The woman shifted on her stool to get a better view and seemed to be studying her with interest as Mac stepped around to the far corner to get the bartenders attention. The admirer followed with her eyes as Mac returned to the table with their beer and Devon laughed to herself.

"Sorry, they were out of Maccabee," Mac said as she set down two bottles of Heineken when she returned, taking a seat opposite Devon at the table.

"Unbelievable," Devon feigned outrage.

Mac raised her bottle in Devon's direction, "To your continued recovery."

Devon tapped her bottle to Mac's, "To friendship." Both women drank and sat back in their chairs. Mac scrutinized her for a few moments, watching the way Devon scanned the room with apparently little interest in what she saw. Not that Mac expected her to be cruising the club; it was more like her eyes were mirroring the emptiness in her soul. She remembered when they'd first met, how Devon had so fiercely guarded her privacy. Slowly they had become friends and Mac believed that they had earned each other's trust. Although she knew instinctively that the bond that they shared was strong, Mac recognized the distant expression had returned to her friend's eyes. The shields had once again been reinstalled around her heart.

"So, the award ceremony is tomorrow. You want to meet me for breakfast beforehand?"

"I'm not going." Devon said flatly.

"You have to go."

"I can't Mac." Her eyes were tortured as she looked back.

"You don't really have a choice in the matter. The President will be there. This is a big deal. You're a real American hero and -"

"I'm not!" Devon's eyes blazed now, "There were so many brave people over there, let them give them the medals." Her voice fell to a pained whisper, "I didn't do enough."

"I was there, remember? So, don't tell me what you didn't do." Mac spoke in a soft but firm tone. She raised her hand to stop Devon's protest. "As I was saying, you can't refuse to go. You have an order to be there. You still know how to follow an order, don't you?"

Devon didn't respond. After surviving that nightmare, the search and rescue, the endless bodies, Alex dying, her own bullet wounds seemed to be deserved. The thought of getting medals pinned on her chest as some kind of reward-it just seemed obscene. But, she knew Mac was right, she couldn't get out of going.

Mac grasped Devon's hand that rested on the table. "Hey, how ya doing?"

Devon's eyes couldn't hide the pain as she looked at her friend, nor could she stop the tears that sprung unexpectedly to her eyes. Mac was there, she saw what Devon saw. She witnessed the tearing of Devon's very soul the moment they found Alex's lifeless body lying in the sand. Devon cut her eyes to the table, unable to bear the pained expression that looked a lot like sympathy in Mac's eyes. She drew a ragged breath and drained the beer in her hand. Unable to think of a dismissive comment in the face of the person who really knew her loss, Devon rasped, "Surviving."

She forced a smile and stood. "My turn to get us a round."

Mac watched Devon limp toward the bar but Devon had not brought the cane tonight. She could see the outward healing was progressing; it was the internal torment that she fervently hoped Devon could get past. The haunted look in her eyes told Mac that the demons were alive and well in Devon's dreams.

Devon returned to their table with fresh beers intent on steering the conversation to something other than herself. She really wasn't ready to examine her feelings or delve deeply into her psyche. Devon found comfort in Mac's presence, it was enough that she understood, she had no desire to lay bare the still raw places of her heart by speaking of the hurt aloud.

The brunette at the bar was looking over at their table again. Seeing a way to redirect the conversation, Devon tilted her head in that direction. "It seems you have an admirer."

Mac glanced up and chuckled softly. "No, I don't think so." A blush crept over her face, making Devon laugh. Again, Mac shook her head no.

"W hy do you say no?" Devon teased, "You could be eye candy." Both women laughed out loud at that and Mac punched Devon's shoulder softly.

"Speaking of which," Devon continued, raising an eyebrow at her friend, "So you think that Ann Baxter is cute, huh?"

Again, the color rose in Mac's cheeks, "You are something else tonight."

"You're stalling."

With a huge sigh, Mac allowed, "Yes, I do."

A grin split Devon's face. "Well, then, I guess we'll have to all go out so you can get acquainted."

Chapter 33

Devon shoved through the double doors of the auditorium into the brilliant sunshine of the cold clear winter afternoon. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun, gulping the fresh air, trying to erase the suffocating feeling that had gripped her during the ceremony. Leaning against a large maple tree as she felt her stomach begin to heave, she struggled against the onslaught of horrific images that now flashed across her inner lids. That did it. She doubled over and vomited in the grass.

A warm hand pressed against her back and rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades. W hen her stomach stopped lurching, a hand appeared in front of her face offering a white handkerchief.

"Here, buddy." She guided Devon to a nearby bench, "sit here a minute while I get you some water."

Devon nodded and rested her elbows on her knees, cradling her head in her hands. Mac returned with a bottle of water and handed it to her. "Drink," she said sitting down next to Devon. After they sat a few minutes in silence, her head cleared and she felt a bit steadier.

Devon grinned sheepishly at Mac, "W ell, at least I didn't throw up on the President."

Mac shook her head and laughed, but her eyes conveyed her worry. "Dev, you have to give yourself a break, okay? I know it doesn't seem like it now, but eventually you will find a place for the pain and you will be able to think about Alex without it."

The D.C. ceremony was to honor those who served in Beirut. Ribbons were presented to all service members who served in the Beirut multinational forces, and individual medals were presented as well. The ISA unit was awarded the Meritorious Unit Award for their successful mission just before the bombing to eliminate the terrorist camp. Devon and countless others were awarded Purple Hearts for their wounds suffered in battle. Nearly everyone was awarded additional meritorious service medals for their bravery and life saving efforts the day of the bombing. Mac was awarded the Army Air Medal exemplary service of a pilot on a flying mission under direct enemy fire.

Up to that point in the ceremony, Devon seemed fine. But when the last two were presented to her, Mac saw her control begin to falter. Mac knew that she was going to receive the additional honors, because she had written the citations for the Major. Devon was the recipient of the Silver Star and the Distinguished Service Cross, two of the highest awards of honor that can be given to a member of the armed forces. She was given the award for bravery under fire, risking her own life to save Captain Armstrong on the day of their operation, and for again placing her own life in danger in rescuing the CIA Agents.

At the mention of the CIA agents, Mac could see her friend shaking slightly and a sweat begin to break out on her brow. After the President pinned the last medal on her chest and stepped away, Mac leaned closer, "Easy does it, Dev, we're almost there."

Now, Mac regarded her friend in the sunlight, her heart aching for Devon. She felt the rage and terror sometimes when the memories came unrelenting, reminding her of unspeakable horrors that they had witnessed. She could not imagine in adding such a personal tragedy on that insidious day. For her and most of the others, the medals would be part of the healing process, and in time be sources of pride. But she could see that for Devon, they would forever be a reminder of Alex.

#

"Devon! Please help me!" Alex's cry was muffled but unmistakable as Devon dug frantically through the pile of debris and rubble.

She clawed through the earth, unmindful of the rocks and shards of metal and glass that cut her hands as she dug. The wind blew clouds of dust that stung her eyes and blurred her vision, but she didn't need to see, she could feel the dirt and rocks in her hands as she worked. Relentlessly, she continued, determined to find her. Again, she heard Alex call to her, but her voice was weaker now. "I'm coming, Alex! I swear, I'm almost there!" She dug faster now, chest heaving from exertion. "Please hold on, I'm coming."

She felt a hand on her shoulder that stopped her movements. Looking up, she couldn't make out any features, only a dark shadowy form that pointed away from where she was digging. "No," she said to the shadow, "I have to keep going, I can't leave her." The figure pointed again and she was propelled by an unseen force, walking in the direction indicated. She could see a still form on the ground face down in front of her. She rushed toward the woman, turning her over, revealing Alex's lifeless stare that bored into her. As she sank to her knees, a hollow voice boomed, "You're too late, you failed her."

"No! Please, I didn't know! Alex!"

Devon woke drenched in sweat and shaking in the darkness, hands fisted in the sheets. Disoriented, she sat up as her eyes darted around the still room until she realized that she was in her apartment in Maryland. The clock on the nightstand read 0223. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and held her forehead in the palms of her hands. As her breathing slowed to normal she got up and pulled on the grey sweats that were lying on the floor next to the bed, then she walked on shaky legs to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

The award ceremony had stirred up so many emotions that Devon had been jumpy they rest of the day. She declined Mac's dinner invitation, not wanting to impose her mood on anyone else. Self recrimination ruled her thoughts. If she hadn't been so self-absorbed in her own quest to be the one to strike at the terrorists, would Alex still be alive? Had she pushed her into some kind of bullshit competition to see which one of them would win the race? Win? Is that what she was trying to do? Beat Alex? Like it was some fucking game?

She stood in front of the large window. Outside the snow fell silently, shrouding everything in white, blurring reality. It concealed the edges, rendering ordinary objects unrecognizable. Her focus shifted to her own reflection in the glass. One more thing she didn't recognize anymore-maybe she didn't want to. You killed her. "You and your fucking ego," she growled at her reflection.

Devon sat on the couch watching the snow fall silently outside, knowing sleep would not come again this night.

Chapter 34

Ann Baxter couldn't contain her smile when she saw the blond lieutenant walking across the operations area toward where she was seated plotting fixes on targets shot during the previous shift. She had seen on the March duty roster notation that Devon might be back to work the next week, depending on her medical release.

"Hey, boss!"

Devon followed her to the outer office area and the two women embraced tightly for a long moment. "You are a beautiful sight," Ann she stepped back to look Devon up and down.

"Thanks, you don't look so bad yourself," Devon said affectionately.

"W hen will you be back to work?"

"W ell, other than needing to spend a few hours a week at physical therapy, I'm back right now." Devon laughed as Ann pumped her fist in the air. "So, I was kinda hoping that you would have some work for me."

"Always the comedian," Ann shook her head, "I think you have that backwards."

"I don't think so." Devon shook her head, "Everyone around here knows who runs this place. You and Janice." Devon grinned again referring to the division's secretary. Ann got them both a cup of coffee and they spent some time catching up on the events while Devon was overseas.

"You scared the hell out of me," Ann said seriously. "W e heard about the bombing, and then that you were shot. God, what a nightmare," She closed her eyes and shuddered slightly.

Devon's eyes grew dark with a distant pain. Ann realized that Devon also lost her college friend from the CIA, she felt stupid for bringing up the terrible memory.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" What an idiot! Shut your mouth.

"It's alright, Ann," Devon forced a smile for her friend. "Listen, the real reason I came by," Devon changed the subject, "is to invite you to dinner with a friend of mine."

Ann raised her eyebrow suspiciously. "W hat, a blind date?"

"No!" Devon assured her, "I mean all three of us. But, hey, if you two hit it off, I'll happily make myself scarce." She smiled broadly as Ann rolled her eyes. Devon gave Ann a sad, pathetic look. "Please?"

"Oh, alright," Ann agreed reluctantly.

"Great!" Devon exclaimed, "How's tomorrow night?"

"You better be planning on taking me somewhere really nice, and I'm not buying either."

Devon couldn't contain her pleasure. "No, Ma'am. I would never ask a lady out and expect her to pay. W e will be honored with the pleasure of your fine company."

Her eyes regained some of the sparkle that Ann loved.

"Okay, then," Devon said as she got up to leave, "we'll pick you up at six thirty. Wear something nice for the seafood house on the Inner Harbor, you know, dressy casual. Then we'll see where we go after dinner to party the night away." Devon smiled one last time at Ann as she stepped out the door.

"Wait, what's her name?" Ann called after Devon.

Devon turned back toward the doorway, "Mac."

"Mac? Are you sure

" Ann's question was swallowed up by the noise in the computer room as she watched Devon walk out the door at the far end of the room.

"Lord, what have I let her talk me into," she muttered to herself as she got back to work.

#

Dinner was wonderful, the food and atmosphere of the seafood waterfront restaurant was everything that the advertising promised. Add to that the great company and the evening was off to a roaring success. Ann was wearing black slacks that clung nicely to her hips and a cream colored v-neck sweater that was cut just low enough to show off the barest hint of her full breasts. She and Mac had hit it off wonderfully and Devon was pleased that her friends were enjoying themselves. To her surprise, she found that she was as well.

They stood in line outside, feeling the chill of the night air. Seeing Ann shiver and wrap her arms around her body, Mac removed her navy jacket, placing it over the smaller woman's shoulders. She was wearing snug fitting black jeans and a starched white cotton shirt.

"Thanks," Ann smiled at Mac, "but I don't want you to get cold."

"I'm fine," Mac said, smiling when Ann leaned into her body. Mac responded by wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in more closely. Devon grinned ear to ear and caught Mac's eye as they stepped ahead of her into the club. Mac winked.

Inside the club was filling up fast with women. The pulsing of the base in the dance music vibrated inside their bodies as they made their way through the crowd, lucky to secure a table in the back. Devon went to the bar for drinks, deliberately leaving Ann and Mac alone for a few minutes. She caught the bartender's eye and soon was returning to the table with three beers and three shots of whiskey, thankful that she no longer needed her cane. As she approached the table, she saw Mac leaning in close and saying something in Ann's ear, whatever it was making Ann laugh.

"Here we are ladies," Devon announced placing the beers down and then passing the shot glasses to each woman.

"To friends," Devon raised her glass and smiling at the women seated across the table.

"To friends," they rejoined, as they all downed the shot.

A bit later Mac asked Ann to dance and they made their way to the dance floor. Ann asked Devon to join them for the fast song, but she declined, citing her leg that, although mostly healed still tired easily. Not that the excuse wasn't true, she just would never think of intruding on their time alone to get to know one another. She sat back easily sipping her beer and enjoying taking in the sights of Saturday night at the club.

Devon turned toward the bar and noticed the brunette who had been watching Mac the last time they were in. Although the crowd this night made it hard to tell, the woman was indeed sitting with her back to the bar, facing the dance floor, and once again seemed to be watching Mac.

"Too late, honey, I think my friend has found someone to interest her," Devon said aloud, studying the other woman. As if she heard her over the music, the woman turned and looked directly at Devon, tipping her glass in the lieutenant's direction. Devon raised her beer bottle and nodded at the woman before turning her attention back to the dance floor.

"Your beer looks empty," the brunette from the bar stood next to Devon's chair about five minutes later, a cold Heineken in one hand and a mixed drink in the other. She set the beer on the table in front of Devon. Smiling, Devon stood, and indicated for her to sit.

"Thanks." Devon's blue eyes scrutinized the new arrival. She was petite and trim, her dark hair fell loosely around her face and her eyes glinted in the flashing club lights. She wore tight jeans and a low cut knit top that showed off shapely full breasts, and was tucked into her waistband accentuating her narrow waist.

Devon guessed she was about twenty nine.

"I'm Susan." The woman extended her hand.

"Devon. Pleased to meet you."

"You new in town? I don't remember seeing you around her before a few weeks ago; you and your friend," she motioned with her glass toward the dance floor.

"Yeah," Devon replied, "I have recently relocated to the area." Instantly, the old habits of caution returned instinctively as Devon spoke with the attractive stranger.

"Really? I've lived here all of my life," Susan smiled again, "I've always wanted to travel, though."

"W hy don't you? You seem too young to be tied down," Devon returned.

She laughed, "You're right. I hadn't thought of it that way, I guess I don't have as much of an independent streak as I had imagined. I always think about meeting the right person to travel with."

"Sometimes you just have to go for it," Devon shrugged, "make your own opportunity."

"You may be right." Susan looked as though she was contemplating the idea. "So, are you and your friends military?" Susan was smiling again, but somehow Devon couldn't see the smile in her eyes. She hesitated, trying to think of a good answer, when thankfully Ann and Mac approached the table.

"Hey you two," Devon stood and grinned at Mac, who was pulling out Ann's chair for her.

Mac studied the brunette now seated at the table and raised an eyebrow at Devon.

"Sorry, I'm forgetting my manners, Ann and Mac, this is Susan."

"Hello," Susan said. Mac studied the woman for a few moments with a puzzled expression on her face as Susan she and Ann began discussing something about fashion. Clearly, something about the other woman disturbed Mac.

"Have we met?" Mac interrupted the conversation going on across the table.

Susan laughed a bit nervously, "I'm sure I'd remember if we had."

"That's what I was thinking, still, there's something familiar about you." Mac's eyes narrowed and she frowned.

"W ell, maybe I just look like someone else." Susan forced a smile.

"Maybe," Mac's voice trailed off as her mind searched for the answer. She stood and turned to Ann, "It's getting late, I guess we should get you home."

Taking the hint, Devon got up, not understanding but trusting Mac's instincts. Bonding under live fire made non-verbal communication more clear than spoken words. W hatever it was that bothered her friend, Mac didn't need to explain herself. They said goodnight and made their way to the exit.

As they stepped out of the club into the night air, the temperature had fallen considerably, enveloping the three in a chill as they made their way to the Jeep. Mac again pulled Ann close to ward off the cold wind that whipped against their skin. Unnoticed in a darkened doorway across the street, a figure leaned against the brick archway, watching the women walk to the parking lot. The soft click, click of the shudder of the camera lens was drowned out by the muted base coming from the club.

No one spoke until they were pulling onto the on ramp of the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. "W ho was that woman?" Ann finally asked from the back seat.

Mac stared out the passenger side window, her mind trying to unearth the memory that eluded her. She couldn't shake the feeling she knew her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Susan did just look like someone she met in her past. So, why did she set my nerves on edge? She reasoned that there was no need to get anyone else alarmed until she figured it out.

"I don't know," Mac answered truthfully. "Maybe I have her confused with someone else, like she said."

Devon looked across at her friend from the driver's seat, recognizing the troubled look on her face. Mac didn't rattle easily. Even when they were being shot at in the desert, she was controlled. Now she was as undone as Devon had ever seen her and that was making Devon very worried.

Chapter 35

Colonel Jefferies, the new commander of the Intelligence Center sent for Devon the first Monday in June at 0800. His secretary led her into the office at precisely eight and the colonel rose behind the desk extending his hand to her. "Good morning, lieutenant," he said formally. His eyes looked her over, openly appraising her appearance. Although Devon prided herself on the meticulous appearance of her uniform, she sensed his displeasure.

Grasping his hand firmly, she made direct eye contact, "Good morning to you, sir."

He indicated that she should sit and he returned to his chair as well. For a moment he glanced down at the folder in front of him before closing it. Devon could see her name on the tab of the folder.

The colonel looked to be in his fifties, his grey hair was cut in a high and tight military crew cut and the brown eyes that regarded her were hard. Devon had heard that he was a hard core, rigid commander who was a lifelong soldier. Those facts were fine with Devon, the problem was that he also had the reputation of adamantly opposing women in the military, and, if her information was correct, he was openly homophobic.

Since graduating from her school over two years before, Devon had not had any problems with either of these issues. Mostly, as long as one did their job, people didn't worry too much about anything else. Particularly in a war zone, survival was the primary worry, not who someone slept with or whether they stood up to pee.

She unconsciously sat up straighter in the chair, calmly returning the colonel's stare. Finally, he smiled thinly at her.

"W ell, your resume is quite remarkable, lieutenant," he began, tapping the folder. "My predecessor, Colonel Brinkman, was quite taken with you. Your work ethic appears to be higher than average, with signs of innovative thinking that led to your previous assignment." He opened the folder again, as if to confirm something before he continued.

"I must say that it's not often that a unit has the good fortune to have a Silver Star recipient as the officer in charge. Not in the intelligence field, anyway." As she listened, Devon was beginning to feel like a stray cow that was being herded toward the slaughter house pen. All this buildup was leading somewhere, but it didn't feel like it was anywhere good. She realized that she had drifted and he was still speaking.

"

now that you've returned to work full time, I'm sure you'd agree that our offices are a bit more businesslike." Devon scrambled mentally to grasp the thread of what he had just said, but couldn't.

"I'm sorry, sir, what was that?"

"Your attire. I was saying that I'm sure you'd agree that since you are no longer in a field assignment, more appropriate attire would be your class A uniform. You are my officer in charge, and as such, I believe you should set a proper example for others to follow, particularly the women."

Particularly the women? What the hell is that about?

"Actually, sir I believe that any issued uniform is appropriate work attire, as long as it is clean and pressed, regardless of the gender of the wearer." Devon said neutrally. She saw the flicker of anger in the colonel's eyes.

"Your opinion is noted, lieutenant, but under my command, daytime uniforms will be class A."

Devon nodded, "Yes, sir. Is that all?"

"Just one more thing." He tapped his finger on the desk as if considering his next words.

Standing now, Devon waited.

"I hear you play softball on the women's team, is that right?"

"I plan to play this year, yes sir, now that my leg is healed."

"See that it doesn't interfere with your work obligations, lieutenant." His expression was cold.

"Thank you for coming in. Carry on."

Devon saluted and swiveled away, moving in long strides toward the door. She didn't know what that meeting was about, but she had a bad feeling as she closed the office door behind her.

Inside the office, the colonel again opened the folder on his desk. He paged through the awards and commendations until he came to the section he was looking for. He reread the summary of the CID report from 1982 which had concluded that not enough evidence existed to charge the lieutenant with engaging in homosexual conduct.

He then extracted several pictures of three women walking together in civilian clothes. He recognized two of the women, James and Petty Officer Baxter. The accompanying notes identified the photos as having been taken as they stepped out of a known lesbian bar in Baltimore. His CID contact told him that the third woman was a helicopter pilot nearing the end of her enlistment. Jefferies picked up the phone and dialed, waiting for his contact to pick up.

"Did you get the information I sent over?" Honeycutt inquired.

"Yes. I just met with her. She is every bit as cocky as you said she would be."

"W ell, this time, I'm running the show," Honeycutt sneered, "she got away from me once, and I don't like losing."

Jefferies nodded, "Agreed, and this time I'm her commander. A few fancy ideas aren't going to cloud my judgment like her last boss. Any man would have done what she did over there in the Middle East. Makes me sick how they're gushing over her every day."

"If she continues to be careless by going to these places, she's going to make my job much easier," Honeycutt said with satisfaction. "I'll let you know when we get something else."

With that the connection was severed. Jefferies replaced the phone in the cradle and looked down at the picture of Devon James attached to the left side of the folder. Below it, he saw the recommendation from Colonel Brinkman for promotion to captain as soon as possible. "That is never going to happen." He said flatly as he closed the folder.

#

Crack. The ball hit sharply between second and third base. Devon lay out, extending fully to her right, snatching the line drive shot out of the air for the third and final out of the game, sealing the win.

Great job, ladies! Outstanding hustle." Mac walked from the dugout across the third base line, clapping loudly, expressing her appreciation at the team's effort.

The Army and Navy women's softball teams formed up and shook hands down the line. Mac stepped up at the end of the line to congratulate the Navy women on the game they had just completed. As Ann passed, she grasped her hand and then risked a pat on her rear as she passed.

"Great game," she grinned.

Ann smiled back, "Thanks, coach."

Devon trotted to the dugout to retrieve her gear and Mac came up behind her as she was packing the last of her stuff in the bag. "Great catch there at the end, buddy."

Grinning up at her friend, Devon said, "thanks. I do what I can."

"How about I buy you a beer and a sandwich or something?"

"Sounds good, you know me, always hungry," Devon laughed. "Is Ann coming?"

"No, she's got something going on tonight," Mac looked a bit distracted.

"'Kay, I guess it'll be just like old times then," Devon threw her bag over her right shoulder as they walked.

A short time later, they settled onto stools at a local pub. Mac ordered a pitcher of beer and a dozen wings. Devon ordered a cheese steak sandwich and fries.

When Mac raised an eyebrow, she assured her, "W e'll share."

After the beer came and they both enjoyed the first taste, Devon looked seriously at Mac. "I got called in to meet the new colonel yesterday."

Mac could read the unease in her friend's posture and tone. She watched a muscle twitch under Devon's left eye, a sure sign that she was troubled. "What's up?"

Devon heaved a long sigh and took another drink from her beer, before shaking her head, "I don't know, maybe nothing, but I just feel uneasy around him."

Mac nodded, "What'd he say?"

Devon laughed bitterly, "He said that we couldn't wear our fatigues during the dayshift anymore, because, you know

.it's not ladylike." Devon rolled her eyes.

"He didn't say that." Mac stared wide-eyed.

"No, but that was his meaning," Devon said, "He said I should be a good example, especially for the women."

Mac laughed out loud now, "No! W hat a jackass."

"Yes, then he asked if I play softball."

"God! Am I ever glad I'm getting out of this bullshit," Mac sighed, "You know that softball is their code word for lesbian, right?"

"Yeah, I got that," Devon smiled sadly. "I just can't believe that this fucking shit never goes away."

"That's why I'm getting out." Mac agreed.

"So, how's that job offer going, did you hear anything yet?"

"Actually, I did, this morning," Mac was smiling broadly now.

"You did! Tell me," Devon's excitement for her friend was evident.

"I have been offered a job in Tampa. All I have to do is go through their field training program and a couple of years on the street. After that, I'll pretty much be given one of the pilot's positions. Apparently, they don't have too many female combat helicopter pilots applying."

Devon raised her glass to Mac, "Well, that is outstanding! Good for you." She stood and moved around the table to give Mac a warm hug. "That's awesome, but I'm sure gonna miss you."

"Hey, I'm not gone yet, and I'm going to be a slave driving coach until I leave," Mac's eyes twinkled. They sat in comfortable silence enjoying their food for a few minutes before Mac spoke again. "You think this dickhead Jefferies is going to be a problem for you?"

Devon shrugged, "I really don't know what his deal is," she took a generous bite of her sandwich and swallowed it down with a gulp of beer. "I just want to do my job and be left alone, but I'm not going to cower to him or anybody."

"Living through the things we have has a way of putting priorities in rigid order, huh?" Mac offered.

"That it does." Devon agreed.

Chapter 36

Mac awoke unsettled after a restless night. Actually, it was more like giving up believing that sleep would come when she got out of bed just before sunup. She pulled on the faded green Notre Dame t-shirt, the gold lettering across the chest cracked and worn, along with a pair of grey cotton shorts that lay on the floor next to the bed. Padding barefoot down the stairs from the loft bedroom, she turned on the tap, letting it run a few seconds to get cold and bent to gulp water until she needed air. Then she splashed cold water onto her face and wiped it roughly dry with a towel that hung on the handle of the stove.

She moved to the coffee pot and began filling the basket with coffee grounds. The digital clock on the front of the machine glowed 0510. "I've got to start getting more than three hours of sleep," She said aloud.

Sighing, she added two extra scoops of coffee, poured the water in to the reservoir and snapped on the power switch. Finding a banana and toasting an English muffin, she removed the carafe from the coffee maker just as it finished enough for her first cup, grateful for the pause feature; she filled a large mug to the top.

With her breakfast in hand, she settled onto a stool at the kitchen counter, her thoughts swirling through her mind like a funnel cloud.

Munching on the muffin, she wondered why she had chosen this place as her exit base, with all the other choices she had. She thought that it would finally give her closure. Yeah, right. Did she really think it would be easy to be back here? How could she think that returning to the scene of the crime would make it alright?

She squeezed her eyes tightly to force back the memories that sprang to life with ever more frequency and clarity each day that she was back. Images of Megan's face skittered across her closed lids followed immediately by the two of them sharing a passionate kiss, Mac running her fingers through the silky strands of red hair, dragging her mouth down to her soft creamy breasts toward a perky tight nip-she snapped her eyes back open to escape back to the present.

Her body was jittery, her insides humming with nerves. She felt the familiar aching pressure in her chest that always accompanied the memory of the only woman she had ever loved. Mac cupped her palm to her forehead as if to push the images away from her eyes, she drew a deep breath to clear her thoughts. Instead, a crystal clear vision of standing in the doorway and seeing Megan making love with another officer assaulted her. Fuck me.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she yanked open a dresser drawer, removing a sport bra. After putting it on and replacing her t-shirt, she laced up her running shoes and headed out into the humid July morning. The first hints of pink were beginning to seep in to the horizon as Mac began her run. Yes, this is what she needed; she would run the anxiety and pain from her heart and clear her mind. Even as she began, she wondered how she was ever going to drive the memories of that woman and that betrayal from her soul.

#

The following Friday, Devon parked outside Mac's apartment building in Laurel, MD, just outside of Ft. Meade. She couldn't stop thinking about the odd sound to Mac's voice when she called to ask Devon to come by. Something was wrong, Devon just hoped that whatever it was, she would be able to help her friend sort things out.

She climbed out of the jeep in front of the townhouse and knocked on the screen door. Mac pulled the door open seconds later and Devon followed her inside.

Mac was wearing an old faded cut off Army t-shirt, equally faded jeans and she was barefoot. She led Devon through the living room to the kitchen, where she pulled a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses down from the cabinet.

"I remember where I know that woman from," she said without preamble as she poured them each a shot.

Devon was lost, "I'm sorry, what woman?"

"The woman from the bar."

Devon searched her memory, recalling the brunette who watched them at the club. "Oh, yeah. Susan, right?"

"Right. Only that's probably not her name. She works for CID as an informant. She was involved in the investigation of some of my friends before I went overseas.

Some of them got arrested because of that bitch." Mac's bitterness was evident. Devon recalled once when they had discussed the past, Mac was upset, but she never explained.

Devon blew out a breath. "Christ, and I let her just sit right down at our table, I'm sorry."

"You couldn't know. I'm sure she recognized me though. That had to be why she was watching us."

"So, we are under investigation again?" Devon's stomach churned with anger.

"I'm not worried, I'm leaving. It's you and Ann that I'm concerned about. That's why I called you tonight."

"Do you think this has anything to do with my meeting with the colonel last week?" Devon asked.

"I'm not a believer in coincidences." Mac said. "I have a friend who gave me a tip. Do you know a guy named Honeycutt?"

Devon thought hard. The name seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. She shook her head, "I don't know. Who is he?"

"W ell, he knows you because he's been asking around. He is the new guy in charge of the CID investigations in the Baltimore/D.C. area."

The awareness hit Devon like a slap in the face. "I do know him." She rubbed her hands roughly over her face and slumped back against the counter in frustration. It felt like the demons from her past were closing in on her again. "He was investigating my ex-lover up in Boston. She actually laid her hands on him."

Mac studied Devon's distant pained look, wondering not for the first time how many lives CID had fucked with in the name of moral integrity and unit cohesion.

"She must have been pretty gutsy," the admiration in her voice was clear. "So what happened to you two?" The two women had grown very close during their time in Lebanon, the fast friendship growing out of their many similarities. Now, Mac understood with even more clarity how they were most alike. Neither one of them ever spoke of the women who had broken their hearts.

Devon was at a loss of how to begin. She still had no answers to her questions. Did Jillian really care about her the way that she had thought? Or was she another conquest, soon discarded after the chase was over? If she cared, she certainly didn't make any attempt to let Devon know it. Devon always believed that you could tell a lot about someone's true makeup by the way they act under adversity. Their truth comes to the surface. Jillian's truth was that she didn't stand by their love, she ran when it got tough.

She pulled herself back from the painful thoughts to regard her friend again. "Sorry," Devon downed another shot. "Jillian. My first love," she smiled sadly and shook her head. "What a fool I was. I fell hard. I thought that love would conquer all." She laughed bitterly, "W hen the investigation heated up, she hauled ass. At least she didn't pimp me out."

"That is something redeeming." Mac offered.

"I guess," Devon shrugged. Devon looked out the window to the past, the pain radiating from her as she spoke. "Anyway, she did tell me about Honeycutt. She said he was a real prick."

"W ell," Mac said, "at least this time around, you're not involved with anyone, so there shouldn't be much for him to investigate."

"Yeah, he might die of boredom watching me this time around."

"Maybe it's nothing. I'm getting out, so there's no way he can touch me. Just be careful around your new colonel, Dev, I hear he and Honeycutt go way back."

"Yeah," Devon replied sullenly, "but so do Honeycutt and I."

Chapter 37

Even in the predawn darkness the air was thick with humidity on the last day of July as Mac carried the last box of her belongings to the pickup truck. She and Devon had loaded up everything except the last essentials the night before so that she could get on the road early today. Her footsteps echoed off the empty walls as she made one last check to make sure that she wasn't forgetting anything. As she passed the kitchen doorway, she caught sight of a yellow envelope in the middle of the brown butcher-block counter top. Her name was written on it in a large bold script and as she raised it in her hand, Mac caught the scent of Ann's perfume. Smiling, she held it in front of her face and breathed in the fragrance.

The front of the card depicted a beautiful sunset over the ocean as a sailboat drifted in the forefront, closer in to the beach. Inside, Ann wrote, whenever I see the beauty of a sunset over the water or a sailboat gliding gracefully through the waves, I will remember our special time together. Be happy. Always, Ann. With a heavy sigh, Mac replaced the card in the envelope and looked around one last time. Satisfied that she had everything and was ready to go, she flipped the light switch, tossed the key onto a stand by the window for the landlord and stepped out the front door.

"Hey." Mac heard the familiar voice as she strode toward the driver's door of the truck. She turned in the direction of the greeting, surprised to see Devon leaning against the side of her jeep, arms crossed over her chest and legs crossed at the ankles, a very serious expression on her face.

"W hatcha doin'?" Mac was pleasantly surprised to see her friend.

"Couldn't sleep," Devon shrugged, "so, you all set?" her voice broke a little and she looked away quickly.

She hadn't intended to get emotional in front of Mac. It seemed so simple when she thought about coming to see her friend off, now that she was here the thought of actually saying goodbye seemed impossible. Mac was the only real friend Devon had ever made, except Alex, and after all they had been through together, she was pretty sure that Mac now knew her better than anyone on this earth. Devon wasn't sure what she wanted to say, but she wanted Mac to know how grateful she was. In the distance, a flock of birds chirped noisily heralding the coming dawn.

Yep, just threw in the last bag and locked up." Mac raised a dark questioning eyebrow at Devon. "Forget something last night?"

Devon stuffed her hands in the front pockets of her shorts and shifted her feet, moving some pebbles around with the toe of her sneaker, then raised her eyes to look at her. "Yeah, I did," she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Mac's mid section, burying her face in the other woman's shoulder. Mac responded by firmly squeezing her in a fierce bear hug and letting out a loud growl as she did. When they stepped back, both sets of eyes were watery and the large lump in Devon's throat hurt as she spoke, making her voice sound oddly thick.

"I

I just wanted to make sure you didn't leave without telling you-thanks for well, everything. Your friendship, understanding-hell, my life. I will never forget you." A tear escaped from behind the blond lashes and Devon brushed it impatiently away. "Sorry I'm being such a marshmallow."

Mac laughed out loud at that, a tears threatening at the edges of her own eyes. She hugged Devon tightly again, "Listen, you and I are going to be friends for the rest of our lives, so stop with this 'I'll never forget you' stuff. Of course you won't because we are going to be in touch and see each other again before you know it. I expect you to take some leave time and visit me in Florida, you know." She felt Devon draw a deep breath and nod. "Good, now that that's settled, you have nothing to thank me for; we were there for each other. Don't ever think I didn't need you just as much over there."

Mac gave her one last squeeze and stepped back. She reached out and took the tip of Devon's chin between her thumb and forefinger, lifting her face so their eyes met. "I love you too, buddy." Then she swiftly stepped from the embrace and hopped behind the wheel of her idling pickup. With one last look and a grin, she pulled away from the curb leaving Devon staring after the taillights until they faded from view.

Chapter 38

Honeycutt stared disbelievingly at his two lead investigators who had just finished giving him the verbal summary of their latest report. Apparently it must be full of blank pages because they had just admitted to him that several hundred man-hours of surveillance had given them nothing on their subject.

He fixed them with a hard stare, "I could have gotten nothing all on my own. W hat the hell do I need you two for?"

He could almost understand that the male agent had come up empty, but he had specifically requested the female for this assignment to take advantage of her good looks. "Miller," he addressed the female agent, "You are supposed to be the bait. And, I thought you already knew about the pilot. McKinley, is it?" He couldn't believe his luck when he had learned that Captain McKinley was a previous subject of investigation. What he couldn't understand is how that investigation had just stopped without explanation.

"Sir, I told you I don't know her. I was assigned to another case during the McKinley investigation. My boss closed the investigation and everyone involved was reassigned."

"Yes, and now she shows up again. She's a close friend of James, and the two of you are too incompetent to make a case before McKinley out processes. She was the key to making a case and you blew it." He fumed. "Can somebody please explain to me why six months into this case we are no closer to our goal?"

"Sir," the male agent said, "if we just had a little more time, I'm sure we can get something on her. After all, we do have the pictures from the club in Baltimore, a known lesbian bar."

Honeycutt looked disgustedly at the two agents. "And James can just say she went there with her friend. We already know that McKinley is a dyke, but I can't go after her, now can I?"

"W e also have the softball team-" Honeycutt slapped his beefy hand on the desk, causing the junior investigators to jump.

"I need more than that, you idiot!" He turned to Miller, "I thought you were supposed to get us something from inside the club?"

Susan Miller willed her voice not to shake, "Sir, I did make contact, but she wasn't interested."

"W hat do you mean? Your job is to make her interested." Honeycutt's eyes bored into her.

"I tried." She looked away from her boss' glare.

"W ell, sweetheart, you will just have to try harder. Listen you idiots, McKinley left yesterday, so that will leave James alone. My guess is it won't take her long to seek out some companionship away from the softball team. Christ, she's been back in the states over six months!" his voice was booming.

"Chief, she did get shot and lost a friend over there, maybe there's nothing to find." Susan suggested weakly. She was beginning to dislike what felt like a personal vendetta on the part of her chief.

"Please don't remind me that one more deviant received military honors for service before we had the chance to expose them."

Suddenly, Susan really detested the fat man. He continued, ignoring the distasteful look on her face, "You just get back to that bar when she goes and get me something I can use. She'll slip up. You just make sure your there to capitalize on her mistake."

After the two agents left his office, Honeycutt opened the file on the desk before him. He stared at the picture of the one subject who had eluded him in recent years. He remembered how the other one-what was her name again? Gray. That's right. Gray, her girlfriend, had actually struck him, and that soft SOB Martin had made a deal with her anyway and James had walked away. Well, this time, there will be no deals. This time he would get her. He smiled to himself as he closed the folder.

Chapter 39

Devon sat absently flipping through the channels on the TV with the remote, hoping something on the box might catch her attention for a couple of hours. No such luck. Even the movie channels were showing old B rated flicks and Devon wasn't the type to sit and mindlessly watch whatever was on the screen just because.

After cycling through the channels three times without success, she snapped off the set and strode across the apartment to the kitchen. Jerking the refrigerator door open, she grabbed a Heineken, popped the top and drank a long drink. She flipped the cap into the trash can as she passed the breakfast bar, restlessly pacing.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall above the sink, she sighed heavily. Eight thirty. Friday night. Usually, she and Mac would play cards or catch a movie or even go to a club with some of the ladies from the team, but her friend had been gone two weeks and Devon was feeling the loss of her companionship. Mac had called to say that she had arrived in Tampa and things were going well and Devon was happy for her. W hen Mac heard the edge in her voice, she had encouraged her younger friend to go out, but Devon had balked at the idea.

"W hat would be the point?" She had asked.

Mac laughed, "What was the point of you introducing me to Ann? You said I needed to get out, remember?"

"Yeah, well

" Devon's voice trailed off.

"You don't have to marry anyone, Dev. Just let yourself have some fun. Believe me I know what you're feeling. You need to take your own advice. So what's wrong with enjoying some adult company?"

Swallowing the remainder of the beer, Devon considered that statement. Adult company. Looking around the empty apartment, she considered her options. She could stay home, watching some stupid movie or re-read a novel. She could get in the car and drive to Pittsburgh. No, it would be midnight when she arrived and her sister and the kids would be asleep. There was a good possibility that someone she knew would be out at the club; she could hang out awhile and have a couple beers. W ith another sigh, she tossed the empty beer bottle into the trash and headed upstairs to change.

At nine thirty-five Devon parked her jeep in the parking lot a block from the club and tried to remember why she thought this was a good idea. She wasn't the type to go out alone and she considered pulling back out of the lot and heading home again. I'll just have a beer and see if anyone else is here, if not I'll head out. She hopped out and walked purposefully toward the doors of the club before she changed her mind.

Devon entered the club and was immediately enveloped in the pulsing beat of the music and dim lights of the interior. The lights of the dance floor flashed in time to the music, irregularly illuminating the dancers and casting multicolored shadows around the rest of the space. Devon climbed onto an open bar stool and signaled the bartender. The pretty brunette responded immediately, taking in the striking blonde who just graced her service area.

Devon ordered a beer and couldn't help but notice the bright smile the woman gave her as she delivered her order. The woman's dark eyes held hers and her hand lingered momentarily, lightly touching Devon's on the bar before lifting the five dollar bill and heading for the cash register. As Devon took a drink from her beer, she saw the woman watching her in the mirror behind the bar.

"That's yours," Devon told her when she returned with the change.

"Thanks, darlin', look me up when you get thirsty again." The playful brown eyes danced.

"I will," Devon nodded and turned on the stool to face the rest of the club, surveying the patrons. After a few minutes, she heard some laughter and shouts that were loud enough to be heard over the music. Looking in the direction of the commotion, she recognized several members of the team raising their glasses in a toast of some kind. One of the women at the table saw her and waved her arm in the air, beckoning Devon over to join them.

"Hey, girl!" A petite Hispanic woman wearing a red polo shirt and jeans shouted, as she gave Devon a warm hug. Carmen Santiago was a physical therapist and the Sergeant First Class in charge of the PT rehab at Walter Reed. She had pushed Devon to her limits in the gym during her first six months back from Beirut and Devon would forever be grateful to Carmen for a quick and full rehab of her injured arm and leg.

"Hi Carmen," Devon returned the embrace. Carmen's skin was a rich bronze color from hours spent outdoors. Her smile was contagious and Devon grinned back.

Carmen's girlfriend, Elaina, stepped in between the two and slid an arm around both women's waists. "Oh, my," Elaina cooed playfully, "ain't I the envy of every woman in this bar right now, holding the two most beautiful women in the place." Her hand slid down to Devon's rear and slapped playfully before squeezing, causing the blonde to jump and a blush to darken her face a deep red. Laughing, Elaina kissed Devon on the cheek and released her.

"How come you don't come around more often, Dev? You need to get out more." Carmen gestured toward the empty chair at their table, indicating that Devon should sit.

"I don't know Carmen, we're a bit busy at work," Devon offered a lame excuse.

Carmen shook her head, "A girl has to get out, chica

" she raised her hands palms up as she shrugged. They moved toward the table where the rest of the Army softball team sat consuming pitchers of beer. The others called out greetings as Devon took the empty seat, turning the chair around so that the back was in front of her and she rested her forearms on top. She found herself drawn into their jovial celebration, as they discussed the previous week's game, complained good naturedly about their bosses, and speculated about various women in the bar.

Throughout the evening, Devon looked toward the bar and each time, the woman tending bar seemed to be looking her way. Several of the women at the table went to ask someone to dance and others made their way to the pool tables. Devon headed back to the bar to order another beer, smiling appreciatively at the sight of Carmen and Elaina on the dance floor who were flawlessly moving together in a sensual style. She was startled when she felt something cold touch the side of her hand.

"This one's on me, honey," the brunette was leaning over the bar toward her, so close that if Devon leaned in just slightly their lips would meet. Devon's blue eyes met the dark gaze before allowing her own to wander over the rest of her upper body visible above the bar. Her rich brown hair fell in ringlets around her tanned face; her full, rose colored lips were pulled up in a mischievous grin, causing a deep dimple to form on the left side of her mouth. She was wearing a black leather vest that buttoned just below her full breasts, revealing the exposed cleavage as she leaned over the bar.

"Thanks, but you should take this," Devon picked up the beer and slid another couple of bills across the bar.

The woman placed her right hand on Devon's bare forearm. "I'm Tammy." She was smiling again and Devon found her smile engaging.

"Devon," She found herself smiling as well.

"Don't go away, Devon," she held up a hand to acknowledge a customer who was shouting for a drink. "I'll be right back." Tammy ran her hand along Devon's forearm as she moved away.

Devon followed with her eyes, noting the tight black jeans that enclosed a shapely bottom. She's very attractive. In spite of her earlier intentions to cut out early, Devon felt an unexpected urge to stay. There was an open invitation in the woman's expression, with no hint of reservation. Devon had never been cruised before, at least that she was aware of, and the feeling was a bit flattering and exhilarating. No strings, no expectations, just pure physical attraction. What's wrong with a little adult company? She smiled as she heard Mac's voice in her head and thought now how right her friend was, wondering why she had never considered it before. Her pulse quickened as she imagined the feel Tammy's hands on her skin.

In the far corner of the bar, Susan sat observing her target. The softball team had come and gone and now she watched with interest as Lieutenant James sat conversing with the bartender. All night long she watched the interaction between the two women. She had to admit she was a bit surprised, never had her subject shown any inclination to engage in such spontaneous activity. Susan briefly wondered if they had missed something along the way. Did James know this woman? The last time she had seen her at the club; did she see her talking with the woman?

She wished that this connection had been made with one of the military women. That would be much easier to expose. Susan watched the bartender begin cleaning up the bar and looked at her watch, noting it was one fifty-five. The house lights would come up soon and with the bar now virtually empty, she was in danger of being spotted by James, so she slipped out with a group of young local women.

Once outside, she puzzled over what to do. She had come to the club on a whim, not really expecting to see the lieutenant out tonight, so she had no back up. At this time of the night, following her home or wherever she was going seemed to be out of the question. She would take a few photos from her car parked down the block. At least with the photos and a few discreet inquiries later, they could identify the bartender and attempt to question her.

Susan need not have worried. When the two women exited the club, they walked directly to the Jeep with hardly a look around. Susan snapped pictures as the jeep passed. She turned around in her seat to take a few more when they turned onto the street behind her, but what she saw in the telephoto lens changed everything that she thought she was going to do that night.

Adjusting the focus on two figures exiting a vehicle at the other end of the block, Susan confirmed what she thought she saw. Instinctively she began taking pictures of the pair. W hen the disappeared inside a nondescript warehouse type building she drifted her car down the block, stopping two doors down. Nothing about the building gave the slightest indication about what was inside. The large metal door opened and pounding music could be heard from within. She watched for an hour, noting that although some patrons were alone and some in pairs, they all had one thing in common. They were all men.

Chapter 40

Devon dug her security badge out of her back pocket and dropped it around her neck as she pushed through the double glass entry door of the building just before 2000 hours. On a Friday night, the majority of the first floor and offices and administrative areas were closed for the weekend, only the interior intelligence centers were alive and teeming with activity regardless of the day or hour. She moved quickly through the empty corridors and upstairs to the now familiar work area of the direction finding unit.

Having come right from the October softball tournament, Devon was still in her uniform, only changing out her cleats for sneakers in the Jeep. Her grey uniform pants were stained with clay and grass from the fielding ground balls. Her hair was unruly and windblown. She normally wouldn't show up at work looking quite this grungy, but Ann was so excited about the intelligence information the team had gathered that Devon had to rush right over to check it out.

Two weeks prior, another attack had occurred at the U.S. Embassy annex just northeast of Beirut, killing 24 people, two of them U.S. military personnel. Devon stayed in the building virtually every waking moment since that time and tonight's game was one of the few diversions she had allowed herself. She knew from her time in Beirut the areas that Hezbollah controlled in Lebanon and had instructed her unit that identifying and locating targets in those areas were the highest priority. Finding those bastards so that the U.S. military could bring them to justice was personal for their lieutenant, and every member of her unit knew it.

She saw Ann training a young airman recently assigned to their unit. Enjoying the excited look on the young man's face, Devon stepped alongside Ann to observe the lesson and his obvious eagerness to learn. Ann glanced briefly up at Devon, smiling at her dirty appearance. A second later he recognized her.

"Hello, ma'am!" The poor youngster practically shouted as sprang from his chair so quickly that he lost his balance. Devon just managed to grab him by the arm to keep him from pitching back onto the floor. The chair did tip over with a low thud. The airman's face flushed nearly purple, "Sorry, lieutenant," he muttered, unable to look at her.

"It's okay, Kevin. Please, relax, okay?" She flashed her trademark electric smile at him, her eyes kind, "You're doing fine."

Pulling her NCO aside, she asked, "Ann, you want to bring me up to speed? Please tell me you have something good. I'm going to need hard evidence to convince the colonel to listen to me about moving up these terrorist groups in our priority order."

From behind them, a deep voice came from the outer office area, "Lieutenant James." Devon turned at the sound of the colonel's voice, feeling a chill in her spine.

"I'd like a word with you."

It was not a request. Devon flashed a quick look at Ann who was shooting daggers at their boss with her eyes. When Ann's eyes moved back to Devon, the lieutenant nodded slightly as if to reassure her friend it would be alright. She wished she believed that herself.

"Yes sir," Devon responded perfunctorily and strode surely in his direction, following him through her work area into his large private office.

"Close the door behind you, lieutenant." He sat behind the desk in the black leather chair, assuming a very formal posture. His elbows rested on the desk, his big hands steepled in front of him, his face set hard as his dark eyes stared at her.

Devon stood between the two straight backed chairs in front of the desk, aware that he had not invited her to sit. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her expression neutral, cool blue eyes holding his. She stood silently. Waiting. She knew exactly what he was going to talk to her about.

After a full minute passed, Jefferies indicated the chairs with a quick jerk of his right hand. "Sit." He watched the female lieutenant sit, noting with irritation that her posture was businesslike and confident. He was used to his presence and rank intimidating subordinates, especially women. He could always count on a bit of healthy fear to drive home the lesson that it was his show, and although he could do nothing about the law allowing women to enlist, men ran the Army. As he watched James, he saw no hint of intimidation in her demeanor, and that pissed him off.

"Lieutenant, I am sure that I made myself very clear as to your appearance and the attire that I expect you to wear whenever you are in my work area." He cast a disgusted look at the uniform. "And yet, you persist in violating my direct order. You have an explanation?"

Eyes never leaving his, Devon said simply, "I am off today, sir. However, Petty Officer Baxter had some success with an intercept that we matched with other intelligence and cross referenced with our fixes-"

"Is that part of the job description for either of you?" He snapped at her before she could finish her sentence. His eyes were black with anger as he leaned toward her, staring hard.

"Sir, if I may," Devon began again calmly, "This is the innovative work that our unit began last year. Colonel Brinkman gave the go ahead for the project before I left for Beirut. Now that I've returned, I had hoped to proceed and-" Jefferies' hand slammed down on the desk, silencing her.

His face was completely rigid and his eyes expressed every ounce of his contempt for her. When he spoke his voice was glacially cold, "I am only going to say this once. Colonel Brinkman is no longer running this unit. You will stick to the job description in the SOP. I do not tolerate insubordination from my junior officers, and I intensely dislike cockiness," He drew a deep breath, eyes still drilling into hers. "I am still waiting for an explanation about your unprofessional attire."

"First, let me assure you, colonel that it is not my intent to be insolent, I only want to push our unit to improve every day." Jefferies eyes narrowed. "As to my dress, colonel, I am off, but when Baxter asked that I come in to assist her, I was excited about her work, so I came right from the game." She heard Jefferies

give a disgusted grunt. "I didn't think there would be any harm on a Friday night. I was only planning on staying a few minutes."

"You are an officer twenty-four seven and as such you are supposed to set an example."

Undaunted, Devon pressed, "Sir, with all due respect, I believe that responding to my NCO's request and coming in on my day off to recognize my team's outstanding efforts is setting a good example, regardless of my attire." As an afterthought she added quietly, "Leadership is about people, not rules."

Jefferies sat still as a statue, save for his clenching jaw and the veins bulging in his neck that was turning deep red as he struggled to control his rage. This dyke bitch dares to lecture me about leadership?! He shoved his large frame out of his chair, slamming his palms down on the desk and leaned menacingly at Devon.

His voice shook with fury as he yelled, "Just who the hell do you think you are?" Devon winced as spittle flew from his mouth in her direction. "Consider this your first disciplinary report, James. I'm not going to put up with your disrespect. You will not enter this building unless you are wearing proper attire, regardless of whether you are on duty or not. You will refrain from deviating from normal procedures when managing this unit. Do I make myself perfectly clear on both issues?"

"Yes sir."

"You are dismissed."

Devon stood without another word and stalked to the door. As soon as she appeared in the doorway of the operations area, all of the enlisted people were staring at her wide-eyed. Devon shrugged and forced a smile for their benefit, "He was mad 'cause I got a little mud on his carpet." No one laughed. "Well, don't let me interrupt your work; I'll just let myself out. Keep up the good work, guys." She waved a hand in the air as she moved toward the rear door to leave.

Ann followed Devon out into the hallway, "You probably shouldn't be seen with me," Devon warned her.

"As if I care," she scoffed.

"I care," Devon countered. "I'm the one he has a hard on for, Ann. You don't need to ruin your career too."

Ann reached out and grabbed Devon's arm to stop her progress down the hall. When she reluctantly turned to look at her Ann saw a mixture of anger and pain swirling in her blue eyes.

"You okay? I-well we all could hear him yelling."

"Great."

When Devon bowed her head, looking embarrassed now, Ann hastened to add, "You listen to me," she leaned toward Devon to catch her eye. "Every one of those people in there," she gestured with her other arm back toward the door they just exited, "would follow you into battle or straight into hell for that matter. We respect you. This is your unit, no matter what that asshole says about you." She had a fire in her eyes that made Devon very glad that Ann was on her side, and the energy lifted Devon's spirit.

"Thanks for the pep talk, but I better go."

As Devon started to walk down the hall, Ann called out, "Would you like to buy me dinner tonight?"

Devon stopped again and looked back over her shoulder at Ann, smiling despite her mood.

"Can I get a rain check? I'm really exhausted."

"Okay," supremely glad to see Devon smile, Ann grinned back, "Friday then, pick me up at seven." With that, she turned on her heals and headed back toward the operations area without waiting for a response.

Devon shook her head and chuckled to herself, "Yes ma'am," she said out loud as she started down the hall again, her sneakers squeaking on the tile floor.

Chapter 41

They decided to try a new steakhouse at the Inner Harbor, not far from where they had gone with Mac back in the spring. The spacious outdoor deck overlooking the water provided a wonderful atmosphere for their meal and the women lingered with another glass of wine after dinner, unwilling to relinquish their table for a bit longer. They chatted easily over dinner, discussing work, their families, Ann's upcoming new duty station, and of course Mac.

"I think that if she would have met you sooner, things might have turned out differently, Ann." Devon said sincerely.

Ann smiled ruefully. "Well, I can tell you that I never wanted to spend more than one or two nights with anyone I've ever met before." Devon nodded. "But," Ann forced a lighter note into her voice, "that's how it goes. W e knew it going in and I don't regret one minute of knowing her."

"I know what you mean," Devon agreed, "I guess all we can ever do is enjoy what we are given 'cause time and love are fleeting gifts." She could see Ann scrutinizing her as though she wanted to ask something but was afraid to begin.

"Devon, I don't mean to pry," she hesitated as a Devon braced for the question she knew Ann was going to ask. Normally, she would have stopped the conversation before it started, but she owed Ann a lot. She knew Ann cared, and they were friends, so she waited.

"W ell, I mean," Ann continued, "I know that you lost a friend in the Middle East, but was there something else more?" Devon's eyes fixed on a point beyond her

left shoulder. The silence hung in the air them and Ann told herself that she was the biggest idiot in the world for bringing it up.

She stammered, "Hey, I'm sorry, please forget it, Dev

I had no right to ask

I just worry, and

sorry." She finished glumly.

When Devon turned her gaze back to Ann, the hardness was replaced by sadness again and she smiled weakly, reaching out to take Ann's hand. "Don't be sorry for caring." Ann smiled tremulously. "Mac only knows 'cause she was there." Devon said, "Anyway, Alexandra Alex my CIA contact. I believe you met her last

year?"

Ann nodded, "Yes I remember, she was very pretty and smart as a whip."

Devon grinned slightly at that, "Prettier and smarter than I'll ever be, that's for sure."

"I don't know if I have ever told you how sorry I am that she was killed, Devon, I know how loyal you are to your friends. I can't imagine losing my dearest-"

"She was my lover," Devon interjected.

"Oh, my God. I never

Mac never told me. Devon, I am so very, very sorry."

"It's okay," Devon downed the last of her wine. "I could tell there were lots of times you wanted to ask; now you know." She was grateful that Ann didn't press further but only smiled kindly. Devon finished her glass of wine and excused herself to use the restroom. When Devon returned to the table, her trademark laser grin was back on display. She extended her hand, "Ready to go?"

Ten minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the club. "You sure you're up for a dance club tonight?" Ann looked skeptical.

"Hell, yes, I haven't been here in months. Just what the doctor ordered to lift the spirits, right?" She walked around to open Ann's door.

"If you say so."

"No, Mac says so," Devon corrected, "and besides, I can't let you go to Alaska without one more wild night on the town, now can I?" Both women were laughing as they made their way into the club.

Devon spotted the group who were waiting for them at the back of the bar, and waved when she saw Carmen look up at them. All of the women yelled out at once, sending a loud, "Yea!" across the club as Devon guided Ann toward their destination. By the time they reached the table, Carmen was handing Ann a shot before hugging Devon, both women slapping each other on the backs.

"You made it!" Carmen exclaimed, handing Devon her own shot.

"I told you we were having dinner first," Devon reminded her, "that was to give you enough time to get everyone here, remember?"

Elaina leaned on Devon's shoulder, "Honey you know she can't remember what she had for breakfast this morning." W ith that, she wrapped her arms around Devon's neck and gave her a teasing kiss on the mouth.

"Hey watch it," Carmen said in mock anger, pulling her lover away from Devon, who was sporting a cocky grin. "And, mi chica, when I said come out more, that was supposed to mean more than every three months." Her dark eyes looked up at the taller woman with concern, "You doing okay?"

"C'mon," Devon said lightly, dropping an arm around the Latina woman's shoulder, "I thought you were my physical therapist. What are you gonna start shrinking my head now too?"

Carmen gave her a smile and a quick look to say she was there if Devon needed to talk. Devon gave her a nod in return and moved around to the back of the large table, grabbing a mug of beer and finding a chair out of the way from the larger group.

Carmen was a combat medic in Grenada and seen some pretty rough action. She knew what holding the horrors inside could do to a person. There were plenty of soldiers whose physical wounds were nothing compared to the psychological wounds. She watched as Devon seated herself slightly apart from the rest of the group. Eventually, the cute blonde lieutenant was going to crack if she didn't start talking to someone, and Carmen hoped that would be soon.

When the group started playing quarters, Devon figured she better switch to water if she was going to be able to drive Ann home. She glanced over at her friend, chuckling as she missed and had to drink another shot. Oh, yeah, she is gonna need a ride. She found a small space at the bar and stood waiting, dollar in hand.

Moments later, Tammy appeared in front of her, a mischievous grin on her face. "W hat can I get you, ma'am?" her fingers brushed briefly across Devon's fingers.

Feeling the blush rise in her cheeks, but powerless to stop it, Devon replied, "Just water tonight, thanks." She raised her eyes to meet Tammy's. The brunette was obviously just as interested as she was the first night they met, and seemingly not a bit bothered by the fact that Devon hadn't stayed that night or even called since then. Although Devon's body was reacting of its own volition, when Tammy returned with the bottle of water with the same hungry look in her eyes, she managed to focus. "Thanks, I have to make sure my friend gets home tonight," she cocked her head toward the loud group across the bar.

"Okay, sweetie, you know where to find me if you change your mind." W ith that, Tammy was pouring several more shots for the next customer.

Spotting an open stool at the end of the bar, Devon took the opportunity to move to the corner for a few minutes. From this vantage point, she could survey the entire club as well as keep an eye on her charge. She opened the bottle and took a long satisfying chug of the icy water before swiveling around on the stool to have a look around. Couples leaned together at small tables for two along the wall, the dance floor was packed with gyrating bodies sweating to the music, and she guessed most of the people at the bar were probably single, like her.

As the DJ transitioned into a slow song and equal numbers of couples either moved from or toward the dance floor, Devon caught sight of a familiar face at the far corner of the room. The woman, who was watching the softball team's table, didn't see Devon approaching from the opposite side of the bar. She paled visibly when the lieutenant turned the chair around in the air, dropped it to the floor and straddled the back, coming to rest inches in front of her.

"Hello Susan." The ice blue eyes bored into the woman. Devon laughed hollowly at the look of shock on the investigator's face. "What, aren't you glad to see me?" She raised her index finger to her mouth as if in thought, "Oh, no, that's right. You are supposed to see me, I'm just not supposed to know who you are, right?"

Susan's mind scrambled trying to figure out what to say or do. Obviously since the last time, James found out who she was. Probably McKinley figured it out.

That's why she had selected this table in the darkest part of the room so as not to be seen. She couldn't believe that her surveillance subject had just walked right over and had the balls to sit right down and challenge her. How did she miss her leaving the rest of the group? Damn. She had to get her shit together. W ell, no choice now, she had to deal with this.

"Hello, Devon. How are you?" She smiled as naturally as she could. She couldn't help it, she really did like her. God, Honeycutt would have a stroke if he knew that.

Devon narrowed her eyes, studying the woman. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that the question was genuine. Susan was looking at her with what looked like actual affection.

Confused, Devon shook her head. "Fine," she mumbled, taking a drink from the water bottle. She focused instead on Mac's warning. This woman had caused good people to lose their careers, and Devon had no doubt she was next on the list of targets.

"W ould you believe I just came in to have a drink?" Susan asked. She knew what the boss wanted her to do. What she was supposed to do. Reel in her target.

She sensed hesitation from the lieutenant's initial confrontation. Now was the time to make a play.

"No. I wouldn't." Devon reminded herself that the investigators use any tactic necessary to bait their prey. The whole concerned look on her face was just an act.

That's right and the best defense is a good offense as they say. She smiled at Susan, "But, since we're both here, what are you drinking? I'll buy."

"Oh, no-"

"Really, I insist," Devon said as she stood, "rum and coke if I remember correctly, right?" She moved with long strides toward the bar before Susan could answer.

Susan watched her target move confidently through the crowd toward the bar, realizing her nerves were jumping. Why did she come here again alone, without a backup? No doubt she was trying to get additional information about James for her investigation. That's what she told herself when she got dressed tonight, even as she fussed over exactly what outfit to wear and primped at the mirror for nearly thirty minutes.

Her eyes were still on Devon as she stood leaning a hip against the bar, waiting for her order. Susan noted the faded jeans the lieutenant was wearing fit quite nicely and she could make out the muscles in her back beneath the white polo shirt as Devon leaned across the bar, listening as the bartender said something directly into her ear. Susan was inexplicably irritated by the obviously intimate exchange between the two women. What the hell is that about? She reminded herself to concentrate on the investigation.

Devon returned from the bar with Susan's drink and another bottle of water for herself, once again sitting with her legs straddling the back of the wooden chair, scrutinizing the brunette. She seemed nervous, making Devon inwardly pleased to be rattling the investigator. She watched Susan shift in her chair.

Susan took a long drink from her glass, grateful for something to distract her from the intense blue eyes locked on her. Her mind was racing. She had tried to ignore the conflicting feelings inside regarding Lieutenant James for quite some time. W hen she took the case everything seemed black and white, her duty was clear. Now that she met the lieutenant more than once she didn't know what she believed anymore.

"So, why don't you tell me your real name," Devon suggested, "That would only be fair because I'm sure you know everything there is to know about me." She watched the investigator's face carefully and saw the brown eyes soften to reveal a surprising vulnerability. After finishing her drink, the woman pushed the glass several times back and forth on the table between her hands, seemingly uncertain how to answer.

She drew in a deep breath and returned Devon's stare, "My name really is Susan." Suddenly, she had this desire to come fully clean, confess her role in the investigation and throw herself at the mercy of this intriguing woman. Being this close to her was making Susan wish that she really was just a local Baltimore girl having a drink with a dashing blond stranger.

"Okay, Susan," the blue eyes regarded her seriously, "I think we can safely say that you're not a local woman who's just a regular here at the club." Susan nodded, feeling a scathing rebuke coming. Devon continued, her hard stare pinning the agent back in her chair, "Since you think you're on the side of moral integrity, truth and justice, why don't you explain to me how being in this bar makes me a less effective officer or less patriotic for that matter?"

Devon had now become the interrogator and she watched Susan struggle to maintain eye contact. She grasped the empty tumbler on the table, rolling it between her palms. Surprisingly, it looked as though the investigator was being honest as she began to speak.

"I used to believe that I was enforcing regulations-yes for the good of the military-I was young and everything was black and white." Devon's expression did not change as she listened. "Lately, I'm not so sure about what's right and wrong." Susan straightened in her chair and placed her palms down on the table, so close to Devon's hand that she imagined she could feel the heat of her skin.

"I didn't follow you here tonight, although I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope to see you." Devon's brows knit together as a frown transformed her features. Susan pushed ahead, "On paper, it seemed horribly wrong to come after someone like you. But once I actually met you I knew-"

"Hey, chica! W ho's your cute friend?" Carmen stepped up to the table between their chairs.

Devon stood abruptly, spinning the chair back around and pushing it under the table.

"Goodnight." She said quietly to Susan, before leading the Latina woman back to the rear of the club where the team was still partying.

Devon collected Ann from the table, drawing disapproving shouts from the others who were enjoying getting the petty officer completely drunk. She bid goodnight to the group, thanking Carmen and Elaina for rounding up the gang for Ann's farewell bash. Devon half carried Ann toward the front door, noting that Susan's table was empty as she passed by. An hour later, she had she had successfully gotten Ann into bed in the spare room of her apartment and decided that she was in need of a hot shower to wash off the smell of smoke and stale alcohol of the bar.

Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the steam filled enclosure, adjusting the water flow so that a hard pulsing spray beat against her skin. While she lathered and scrubbed head to toe, her mind replayed the odd interaction with the CID investigator. Susan. Devon supposed there was no reason not to believe that was really her name, she just wondered if anything else the woman said was the truth, and was disturbed that a part of her wanted to believe the woman. She wondered how anyone could make a living trying to destroy other people's lives. Stepping from the shower and briskly towel drying her hair, Devon decided that she should not spend much time trying to understand a person like Susan.

#

Susan sat at the small kitchen table in her apartment with the photographic evidence she had collected during the past weeks spread out before her. Every night she returned to wait outside the business. Twice more she saw him. That convinced her this was no mistake. The local property tax records were easy enough to access, giving her the name of the property owner. From there it was short work to access background information on him, which led to the real nature of the business. It was an after-hours gay club.

She checked all of the open investigations and found no reference to the establishment in any of the ongoing official investigations. That only left two options. He was either conducting his own investigation, or he was a customer. Susan stared at the pictures. Could this be possible? It was too much to think about. She poured another drink and tried to calm her frazzled nerves. Right now, she had to think this through and proceed carefully. One misstep on her part could be disastrous. If she was wrong it was the end of her career. If she was right, the implications were just unbelievable.

Chapter 42

When Susan entered the office at 0755, she was surprised to see a note on her desk instructing her to report to Chief Honeycutt's office as soon as she arrived.

Assuming that he wanted another update on the investigation, she dug her notebook out of her briefcase and took a minute to review them. Her partner ambled in and dropped into his chair at the adjoining desk, mumbling good morning as he sat. He appeared to be in no hurry to prepare for the meeting.

"Jerry, aren't you coming?"

He looked up blankly, "Coming where?"

"I got a note to see the chief right away, didn't you?" He shook his head slowly before again turning his attention to his desk. She frowned and collected her notes before making the trip down the hall to Honeycutt's office.

Susan knocked on the open door, pausing at the doorway until the stout man behind the desk acknowledged her. "Come in," he said in a clipped tone. She took a seat in front of his desk, clasping her hands in her lap on top of the folder containing her notes. After a few moments, he looked up from the open file he had been scrutinizing.

"Agent Miller, do you have a report regarding your work over the weekend?"

Susan was momentarily at a loss for a response. She tried to read anything in his face indicating what he was after. The chief's usual cold stare revealed nothing.

"Uh, sir, I was off this weekend, if you recall," she offered, "Jones was on duty. If you'd like I can get him, he just came in."

"That will not be necessary," Honeycutt leaned back in the large leather chair, folding his hands on his large belly. He rocked back in forth staring at the female agent in front of him, apparently pleased to see her uncertainty growing with each moment that passed. Finally, he sat forward to pick up the file in front of him on the desk. "No report to file from this weekend," he said absently as he shuffled through the contents of the folder. Susan's anxiety mounted waiting for the chief reveal what he really wanted.

The chief pulled several photos from the file and flipped them across the desk at his subordinate. "I suppose then, you will have some plausible explanation for these?"

Susan could not stop the gasp that escaped her throat as she looked at the eight by ten glossies of her and Lieutenant James sitting inches apart at a table for two at the club. Someone else was in the club watching her watch James. The angle of the photos made their meeting appear much more intimate than it really was.

"I figured I would skip the question of whether you were at the Club Mitchell this weekend and save you the lie that you would have told." He looked at the female investigator with unmasked contempt. "It's enough to know that you were there with James, and that you obviously were not intending to file any kind of report about the contact with your target. I have to wonder why that would be."

"Sir, I am not denying that I was at the club. I don't know why I went. I thought maybe I might get some additional information, I guess. This meeting was entirely coincidental

" her voice trailed off as she looked at one picture of the lieutenant leaning towards her. She remembered that was when Devon was setting her drink on the table and getting ready to sit, but again, the angle of the picture and the grainy exposure gave the appearance of a more personal exchange. She had no doubt that was the precise intent of whoever took the picture.

"W ho took these pictures?" She asked.

"That is irrelevant." He snapped at her.

"Sir, as the lead investigator, I think I should know-" Honeycutt threw a large hand up to silence her.

"No, Miller, you are the former lead investigator. I am having you removed from the investigation, starting now."

Susan jumped up, "Sir! You can't do that. I'm in the middle of a case."

"You are in the middle of compromising this whole investigation by becoming personally involved with the subject!" He shouted at her. "How dare you try to defend your actions? Your objectivity and your loyalties are completely in question. You can no longer function in this assignment. Maybe not in any investigative assignment."

Susan stood with her mouth gaping, unable to believe what was happening.

"Sit down, Sergeant Miller."

"Yes sir." She sat stiffly in the wooden chair waiting for whatever was coming next.

The big man sat back again in his chair, appearing more relaxed and confident. He gazed past her out the window, stroking his chin as if in deep thought. When he leveled his gaze upon her again, his eyes were like shards of black glass.

"Here's what is going to happen," he began in a conversational tone, "you are going to write the report you should have written about this meeting you had." He gestured at the photos on the desk. "And if you know what's good for you, it had better support this photographic evidence. That is if you don't want to end up being a codefendant in the indictment with your friend the lieutenant. Now, get out of my office." He spat the last command at her.

Jones had made himself scarce when returned to her office. She tossed the folder onto her desk and sank heavily she was carrying onto her own and sank heavily into the vinyl desk chair. Susan leaned her head back and closed her eyes, replaying the meeting with Honeycutt in her mind. She sat up and removed a report form from the desk organizer. The blank page mocked her. Susan knew exactly what Honeycutt expected her to write. The only way to save her career was to write a report detailing how Lieutenant James approached her at a known lesbian bar and proceeded to make sexual advances towards her. And then there was the chief's threat to prosecute her as well, something would have seemed impossible to her before the McKinley investigation.

Susan was a junior investigator and had only a brief contact with the captain, but she clearly remembered the suggestions that using whatever means necessary to expose McKinley was okay. She had never crossed that line but she knew others had.

She never wanted to believe the rumors surrounding that case, but when Captain McKinley returned and Honeycutt recruited her, Susan did some digging into the sudden closing of that investigation. It seemed that the case against McKinley depended upon the testimony of her lover, who had agreed to testify in exchange for an honorable discharge. Then, for an unknown reason, the case had simply been shelved.

Susan located a guy who worked in their records section for over twenty years and asked about the case. In a hushed tone he confided that rumor had it that the major in charge of the MP battalion, as well as CID, was screwing McKinley's lover. When that came out, they dropped the investigation, quietly reassigned the major. Her lover was given her discharge and McKinley was granted a request for an overseas assignment. All the loose ends tied up, case closed. Of course, the sordid details are omitted from the report.

Pulling out the file on James, Susan paged through the familiar contents looking for whatever it was that had the chief obsessed with her. Scanning the pages of the official investigation, she saw nothing that she didn't already know. The first notes were from 1982. Honeycutt was the case investigator of a woman with whom he believed James had been involved. The other woman eventually resigned her commission, but nothing ever came of the link to James. Is that why he can't let it go, because he thinks she got away?

Refocusing on her own immediate concerns Susan again turned to the blank report page in hopes that a reasonable solution might suddenly appear before her on the page. Nothing. Glancing back over at the open folder, she stared at the picture of the blond lieutenant affixed inside the left cover. Flipping to the statistical information page, Susan scanned past the PT scores and training records to examine the awards section that described in black and white a real hero. Everything about her is exemplary, except that one thing that is making Honeycutt crazy.

That one thing. "You hypocritical bastard," Susan snapped out loud. Moving the blank page in front of her, she picked up her pen and began to write the first of two reports. The reports she knew she had to write, regardless of the consequences.

#

Honeycutt picked up the receiver and dialed the phone on his desk. The call was answered on the first ring. "We have her." His voice was triumphant.

"You're sure this time?" Jefferies demanded. He was growing tired of the investigations chief jumping the gun, then calling back to say something went wrong.

"Yes, this time I am quite certain, colonel. I will have the report I need before lunch, one way or another." He wasn't sure what Miller was going to say in her report, but that didn't matter. He had another more loyal investigator that had provided him with photographic evidence. That agent, if necessary would fill in the details that he needed to finally make this case stick. If Miller made the mistake of failing to expose James, then his new investigator would fine tune her report with the needed information.

"Excellent. When can I expect to hear from you again?" The colonel asked.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll call when we are on the way. Just have James in the office by 0900, and we'll take care of the rest." He hung up the phone without further comment. He felt almost giddy imagining the possibilities of the next few days.

A sharp knock on his door pulled Honeycutt from his reverie. "Come." The door opened and a small woman with short cropped blond hair entered the office.

"Good morning, Karynn," the chief smiled, "You did excellent work on Saturday night."

She smiled back, "Thank you, chief. It was actually much easier than I thought it would be."

"How so?"

"I was a bit surprised about Miller, but James has always been cocky, never making an attempt to hide her preference. It is sort of poetic justice that Miller became the bait without realizing it, though."

His mouth twisted upward evilly. Holding his hand out to her, he asked, "Is that your report?"

"Yes sir," she handed the paperwork across the desk, "I think you will find it to be quite complete."

"I'm sure," he accepted the pages, "but I need you to stick around a bit, just in case Miller's report needs some-um-shall we say adjustment?"

Karynn assured him, "I'll take care of whatever you need, chief."

Chapter 43

A few minutes after nine Devon was manning the quick draw antenna, furiously scanning the known Hamas and Hezbollah frequencies and getting bearing readings on every signal she could capture. She had linked the computer terminal she was working on to the map printer and each time she fixed a target, a small image churned out of the laser printer on the wall behind her. The young airman that had recently joined the unit pulled the newest maps from the tray and moved to sit next to his boss, watching intently as she worked.

"Lieutenant," he said quietly, "is it true that you were shot in the Middle East?"

Without looking away from the monitor, she answered, "Yes, why?" Her right index finger mashed the button sending the signal to the remote antennas taking readings of the next target. Devon swiveled in her chair, watching the printer, very pleased to see the fix show a target location in the vicinity of Beirut. "Gotcha."

She said aloud, grinning.

The airman seemed embarrassed. "Um, I just heard some of the guys talking and wanted to ask you myself." She nodded at him as she began scanning the other frequencies. "Thanks for telling me." He continued, "They say you saved a special ops major's life. I am really honored to be working for you, ma'am."

Devon turned to the young man and smiled, "You are doing a very good job, Kevin. I'm proud of how quickly you've learned to run all of the equipment. Keep up the good work." The airman blushed and moved to the keyboard on the adjacent work station and began entering data.

"Lieutenant James, may I see you?" Colonel Jefferies stood in the doorway leading to the operations center, the bright light in the office area behind him casting him in silhouette and shadowing his face. The three enlisted men on Devon's team automatically looked over at her in question, knowing that the colonel rarely made an appearance in the ops center.

"Certainly, sir," she stood and followed him into the outer office area.

As they entered the colonel's office, Devon's blood immediately ran cold. Standing just inside the door was a heavyset man in a dark suit, accompanied by a short, blond woman also similarly attired. Just to their left, directly in front of the colonel's desk stood two uniformed sergeants, large black and gold military police armbands encircling their upper left arms, .45 caliber pistols in the holsters on their hips. Devon moved only her eyes from the MP's to Jefferies, who showed no emotion or reaction whatsoever.

"Lieutenant Devon James," the plump man said as she stared at Jefferies, "You are hereby charged with violating the uniform code of military justice, conduct unbecoming an officer, to wit: engaging in homosexual conduct in direct violation of military regulation

" Devon could no longer hear his words over the pounding

sound of her own heart in her ears. Jefferies stared at her emotionlessly as the MP's came forward to handcuff her. They removed her security badge from around her neck and handed it to the colonel. "

relieved of duty," the other man continued, "and remanded to CID custody until further notice." He concluded as Devon's head pounded.

"Let's go," the man obviously in charge said to the guards as the blond woman stepped toward the front door of the offices the way they had entered.

"No," the colonel stopped her, "go out the back way, Honeycutt."

At the sound of his name, Devon's head snapped up and her eyes locked on his, a realization dawning on her. She stared at him, hate building within her. This was the man who had hunted Jillian and drove her away, now he was back to finish the job. She felt her blood boiling in her veins as he smirked at her.

As the MP's took her out the back door, Devon realized that they wanted to take her out through the operations area, in front of her team so that they would see her being led away in handcuffs. Her stomach churned and bile rose up in the back of her throat as they pushed her through the doorway into the ops center. She fought the tears that threatened in her eyes as they led her past her coworkers who stared in disbelief.

The MP's led Devon into the two story brick building that housed the Criminal Investigations Division. At the end of a maze of hallways they ushered her into a ten by eight room containing a metal table with three metal straight backed chairs around it, two on one side and one on the other. One mirrored window covered half of the wall next to the door. Otherwise the interrogation room was empty. The female that had accompanied Honeycutt entered.

"I don't really think those handcuffs are really necessary anymore, gentleman," she smiled pleasantly at Devon, "Please take them off and leave us alone." The guards did as they were told, removing the metal rings encircling her wrists that had gouged deep purple indentations and actually cut the skin in several places.

Devon moved her hands around in a circular motion to encourage the blood flow to return and rubbed dried blood from the palm of her right hand. The woman extended her hand toward the single chair at the table, "Lieutenant, please have a seat."

Knowing it wasn't a suggestion and having no other option, Devon did as she was directed and sat in the hard metal chair, folding her hands in front of her on the table. The smaller woman sat in one of the chairs across the table. Her hair was short cropped in an Annie Lennox kind of style and she wore a tasteful amount of makeup, the blush accentuating her high cheek bones, and a dusting of an eye shadow that was a sort of golden rust color making her deep brown eyes look larger. Blood red lipstick made her white teeth stand out as she spoke.

"May I get you some coffee, lieutenant? Tea? Water?" Devon held the woman's gaze and shook her head, but said nothing. She knew that it was the woman's job to try to get her to relax, act like her friend. The woman would have done better to wait here at the office if she wanted to have any chance at all of talking to Devon. She would never forget the image of her standing with Honeycutt while he read the charges. She waited, her eyes never leaving the woman's. They weren't friends.

"W ell," the woman shrugged, "I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Karynn," she offered an unconvincing smile as she tried without success to read the lieutenant's expression. "Devon," she began again, feeling her way, "may I call you, Devon?"

"It is my name."

"Okay, then, Devon," Karynn leaned forward placing her palms down on the table and staring at Devon intently, "what I have to say now is very important. These investigations can get very nasty and I really want you to understand that if you are just honest with us right up front, I can offer you a lot more options. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Devon continued to look impassively at her, Mac's voice echoing in her head. They will say or do anything to make their case.

Karynn looked at Devon for a few moments, waiting for any sign of an opening. When she saw only the steely blue expression in her eyes, she sat back and sighed. "Okay, Devon. I know you don't believe me, but I really am trying to help you. You've actually got only two options." She held up her right hand pointing her index finger in the air, "One. You sit here like a badass and say nothing and everything that is in the file gets explained the way Honeycutt wants the story told." Her middle finger now popped up forming a V, "Two. You start talking to me and I can write some mitigating factors into your report." The blue eyes continued to stare.

"In the first scenario," Karynn continued, "you get a courts martial trial, a dishonorable discharge, and maybe even jail time. In the second option, I can offer you a general discharge and no jail time. You get to get on with your life." She shrugged her shoulders, "Doesn't seem like a hard decision to me."

Her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts that collided and blended in her brain, Devon sat quietly trying to reign in her feelings. Images of Jillian flickered in her mind like mental flash cards. She thought about how Honeycutt must have given her a similar speech to get her to talk and she must have agreed because Jillian got out and now after all this time, Honeycutt had finally found her.

The stinging pain of betrayal stabbed into her chest, painfully squeezing her heart. And then strangely, she felt a separate feeling of protectiveness. Jillian had always told Devon that she was stubborn to the point of foolishness. Maybe that's what was going on now, because although she knew the easy way out of this was to admit her relationship with Jillian, she couldn't do it. It felt wrong somehow. Part of you still loves her. Fuckin' A.

"Lieutenant?" Karynn was still waiting for a response.

Closing her eyes briefly, Devon drew a deep breath, conjuring up images of Jillian, Alex, Ann and Mac. One by one she pictured their faces, drawing comfort and strength she sent out a silent plea for guidance. Opening her eyes to look at the agent seated in front of her, she said simply, "I have nothing to say to you."

For a second, respect flashed in the brown eyes but it quickly disappeared as Karynn stood. "W rong answer," she said quietly.

The door banged open and Honeycutt waddled into the room. Devon clamped her jaw shut so hard that it ached. She warned herself not to lose control, no matter what he said because that would give him what he wanted. Vowing to win the round about to begin, even though she sensed the win might cost her more, she sat back in the chair, put on her best emotionless mask and stared at him with impenetrable eyes.

"Leave us," he dismissed the female agent as he folded himself into the chair opposite the detainee. The chair groaned in protest under the weight of his frame.

He scrutinized the woman finally in his custody after two years of unremitting pursuit, waiting for his chance. He couldn't hide the intense satisfaction that he felt when he looked down at her hands on the table and observed the visible cuts and bruises that were beginning to form on her wrists.

Her gaze was hard as she stared at him but the evidence of strain was obvious; her eyes were bloodshot and sunken into dark circles outlining the sockets.

"W ell, lieutenant, it seems we finally meet."

#

As Susan entered the building just before eleven, she noticed the guard standing in the hall outside of the interrogation room and wondered who they had brought in this morning. She entered her office area expecting to see Jones at the desk opposite hers, grumbling about the duplicate paperwork that was required for all government work. Instead, she was caught off guard at the sight of Karynn sitting with her feet up on his desk, apparently having made herself at home.

Making her way to the coffee pot that sat on a small metal stand in the corner of the room, Susan poured herself a cup. "I see the interrogation room is already in use this morning," she said in greeting, tilting her head in the direction of the hallway. "Anything good?" She leaned her hip on the counter watching the other investigator, noting that she was dressed a bit more formally than the usual office attire. Her navy suit jacked was open in the front revealing her holster and badge.

Swinging her legs off the desk and leaning forward with her elbows in the middle of the large calendar that covered most of the desk surface, Karynn's smile was predatory. "Only the chief's most wanted subject. We removed her from the NSA building a couple hours ago." Her eyes gleamed, "You should have seen her face."

She knew that was going to get a response out of agent Miller. Karynn watched the two of them at the bar and had seen the way Miller looked at the lieutenant.

She knew that look. Miller had fallen for her target and that was unacceptable. W eak. As far as Karynn was concerned, Miller should be in the box right after James. For now, though, watching the color drain out of the other woman's face as she realized the identity of the prisoner down the hall was enough.

Struggling to maintain a controlled bearing, Susan managed, "Most wanted subject?" Maybe it wasn't Devon. She forced herself to keep her facial expression neutral and calmly wait for the answer.

"Come on now, Susan," Karynn said dryly as she stood, "we both know who that is. As a matter of fact, didn't I hear that you were filing the final damning report to close the James case?" She reveled in the slightly panicked look in Susan's eyes. "I was just about to go watch the chief in action," She opened the door and motioned for Susan to come along, "Shall we?"

Susan followed in silence to the large window of the interrogation room, staring in disbelief at the scene unfolding inside. Honeycutt was leaning over Devon just to her right, hands flat on the table, his face inches from her right ear. His round face was contorted in an angry expression as he snapped at her, spittle visible on the side of his mouth. The lieutenant stared straight ahead toward the glass, seemingly looking directly at Susan, but she knew that the inside was mirrored. She heard Karynn let out a chuckle and flip the switch on the wall, allowing the sound of the room to be heard.

"

and I have everything I need right here." He shoved the manila folder in front of Devon as he spoke, opening it on the table. "W hat? You're not even curious?"

She didn't look down. "Why, lieutenant, I'm just trying to afford you the opportunity to hear the charges and see the evidence against you. Obviously, you don't seem to understand the gravity of your situation."

Honeycutt removed the photographs and lined them up in two neat rows in front of Devon on the desk before removing some other pages. "Tell you what, you just listen while I read this very thorough report. You can follow along with the pictures." His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Susan was stunned as he read what she recognized at first as her report, but as he continued she knew that someone else had authored the final supplement.

She listened, wide-eyed with astonishment as Honeycutt described the lieutenant making blatant attempts at seducing her, finally falsely saying that she tried to kiss her and was stopped by someone else approaching the table. She watched Devon look down at the pictures briefly before staring straight ahead again and this time she could see pain in the blue eyes.

"Jesus Christ," Susan snapped as she stepped back from the window, unable to look at the lieutenant's pained expression any longer. "That is not my report."

Karynn stepped very close and hissed into her ear, "No, that is my report, based upon my observations. Your professional detachment and objectivity were lost that night." She sniffed, "I have pictures to back up my version of the events that evening. Pictures don't lie."

"No. People do." She responded. The woman was in her personal space and making Susan's skin crawl. Susan moved quickly away, intent on getting outside to get some air because she suddenly felt like she was suffocating. Karynn's laughter followed her down the hall as she headed quickly for the back door.

Honeycutt broke for lunch, frustrated that so far his interrogation had not seemed to affect the cocky female lieutenant. Back in his office, he scanned the file he knew so well, formulating his plan of attack for the afternoon. He knew he had enough evidence, with or without a confession, but he wanted to break her. He wanted to witness the instant when she lost hope and her despair made her agree to tell him whatever he wanted. His experience taught him that to achieve that, he was going to have to expose a nerve and that's just what he intended to do that afternoon.

Chapter 44

Susan hurried across the parking lot to her silver Toyota Celica, dropping her copy of the actual report on James along with the second case onto the passenger seat beside her. She was so grateful that she had the foresight to keep her own copy, just in case. Her mind was spinning as she thought about Devon locked up in the interrogation room, arrested on the basis of a fabricated report. Honeycutt's version of her report.

She looked down at the folder containing the pictures and additional information she dug up in the past few weeks. She knew if she didn't do something now, she could never live with herself. The problem was, who would she tell? Honeycutt was in charge, it was her word against his-and let's not forget Karynn the super sleuth. There was no telling what the two of them were capable of. If only McKinley were still here. She would know what to do with this information.

As if fate had intervened, at the next intersection as Susan stopped for the light, she saw a sign outside of one of the nondescript military buildings that read out processing Station. "Oh, my God! That's it!" She shouted out loud in her car as she swung immediately into the parking lot and rushed inside.

She flashed her badge at the private at the front desk. "I'm Sergeant Miller, CID."

The private ushered her into an office where a bookish looking young Spec 4 sat behind a desk. "How can I help you, sergeant?" He asked.

"I'm looking for a witness for an ongoing investigation. She out processed a few months ago."

"That should be a simple enough request, sergeant," He typed a few things into the computer. "What is the name of the person you need to locate?"

"Captain Erin McKinley."

#

Ann woke up again to very bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom. Looking around the unfamiliar, sparsely furnished room, she tried to remember exactly where she was. Turning her head to the side, she saw an army jacket with lieutenant's bars on the collar hanging on the closet door. Now she remembered. She was at Devon's apartment. Sitting up slowly to test the intensity of her headache, she was relieved to find it not incapacitating. The clock read eleven fifty-five.

Her clothes were folded neatly in a nearby bentwood rocker and Ann observed that she was now wearing a plain green t-shirt and grey drawstring shorts. She smiled absently imagining Devon struggling to change her clothes while she was obviously too wasted to be of any help. She reached for the Tylenol bottle, snapping off the top and dumping three capsules into her hand before popping them into her mouth and finishing the glass of water.

Climbing out of the bed with effort, she made her way to the bathroom to pee before moving to the kitchen to make coffee. She found the coffee pot already set up and a mug waiting next to the machine for her; all she had to do was flip the switch to on. A note next to the mug read, "Hope you slept well. Help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen to eat. The towels in the bathroom are clean. See ya later."

Smiling at her friend's thoughtfulness Ann poured herself a cup of coffee and decided to give her a call to see how the day was going. Devon's direct line was answered on the fourth ring. "Com center, this is Janice how may I help you?"

"Janice?" Ann was thrown off momentarily by the secretary answering Devon's extension in such a generic way, "It's Ann. Is the lieutenant in?"

A long silence hung between them on the line making Ann wonder if they had been disconnected. She was getting a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of last night's alcohol. "Janice, are you there?"

"Yes, ma'am," the older woman replied with an odd tension in her voice, "No, the lieutenant is not in and I don't believe she will be in the rest of the day."

Her stomach tightened a bit more. She won't be in the rest of the day? Impossible. Ann reminded herself that all of the lines inside the building were secure and taped. She supposed Janice knew more than she was saying, but Ann knew she couldn't ask her, so instead she forced a light tone into her voice, "Okay Janice, thanks."

Severing the connection, she immediately redialed the non secure phone inside the operations center where the guys actually worked. A male voice answered on the first ring, and Ann recognized that it was Kevin, the new airman. Carefully formulating her question in her mind, she began, "Hi Kevin. It's Ann."

"Hello Petty Officer Baxter. How are you?" he sounded happy to hear from her.

"Fine, Kevin, thanks. Listen, I was looking for the lieutenant

is she in, by chance?"

"Um, I'm not sure

I mean she's not here right now

ah, did you try her office maybe?" She could hear fear in his voice and that was ratcheting up the anxiety crawling up Ann's spine. Knowing he worshipped Devon, she decided to press for a little information.

"Kevin, I already tried that. She's not there, I think you know that." She slipped some authority into her voice to get his attention as she said that. She paused to let him consider. Quietly she continued, "Kevin please, just say yes or no, okay?" He was silent so she continued, "Did something happen this morning?"

Yes." It was almost a whisper. Ann closed her eyes as her mind raced through the possibilities. Did Jefferies find another bullshit regulation to write her up on? Or was it something worse? The way Janice answered the phone was really starting to scare her-not even using Devon's name-like it wasn't even her office anymore.

Oh, God.

She forced herself to stay calm, "Kevin, I want to help. You know the lieutenant is a good person. Can you tell me anything so that I will know where to start?"

silently she prayed he would.

Finally, she heard him breathe deeply, then say in a hushed tone, "MP's took her this morning, about two hours ago. Nobody's saying anything though. I don't know what's going on."

"Thank you-" she heard a click and a dial tone in her ear. "Damn it!" She screamed, throwing the phone onto the couch and pacing wildly around the living room.

Her mind was reeling as she tried to process the information. Devon was arrested. It had to be CID, but what did that mean? Was is just her or was it some kind of a round up? They were all at the bar together last night; were any of the others picked up? Carmen? Elaina? Shit, I didn't go home. Did they try to find me too?

Feeling completely helpless and frustrated, Ann tried to get control of her emotions to think. She had to try to do something, but what the hell could she do? She couldn't call any of the others just in case. Mac. Yes, Mac would know what to do, but she didn't have her number. No, wait. Devon had to have the number.

Frantically she began digging through drawers, finding nothing. Frustration quickly turning to anger, she pounded her fist on the coffee table. It has to be here.

Momentarily conceding defeat, Ann headed back to the kitchen to refill her coffee cup and think. She poured the steaming hot brew into her large mug. As she turned to pull the refrigerator door open to retrieve the carton of creamer, a small square of paper held in place on the door with an 'I love Boston' magnet caught her eye. There in neatly printed block letters she read: Mac McKinley 813-555-6643. Bingo!

Chapter 45

Sometime later, it seemed like hours but she couldn't be sure, Devon heard footsteps approaching down the hall and wondered who was coming in this time. After Honeycutt left, she had been left alone for a while, then the woman with the short spiky hair had returned with a turkey sandwich, a coke and a bottle of water.

Devon had no appetite but did drink the water. Karynn sat down to eat her own sandwich and tried to make small talk with Devon to no avail. She gave up after about twenty minutes, taking the remains of her lunch and leaving the lieutenant alone again.

Since then Devon's thoughts were filled with so many people and things that it was starting to make her head thump. She tried to think about a reasonable way out of her situation, but of course there was no way out for her. Devon had made her decision about this type of circumstance when she was still with Jillian; she knew in her heart that she could absolutely not free herself by turning someone else in. And, that would be the price. They already had their 'proof' about her, so admitting her sexuality would mean nothing. No, they would want someone else's head in trade.

She sighed heavily, leaning her elbows on the table and holding her forehead in her hands, closing her eyes she listened to the sound of the footsteps coming closer. Devon looked up as the door opened and Honeycutt entered. Once again, he had a folder in his hands which he placed on the table between them as he sat across from her. "You didn't want your lunch?"

Devon shook her head and stared at him impassively. He shrugged, "Suit yourself." W ithout further comment he extracted several photographs and lined them up on the table the way he had hours before. Again, the lieutenant stared straight ahead rather than look at what he laid out in front of her. Unperturbed, he began, "I thought perhaps this afternoon you and I might take a bit of a walk down memory lane, Devon."

The use of her first name by this asshole made Devon want to scream, but she remained silent. She knew the chief observed the flash of anger in her eyes because he was looking smugly at her. Don't let him get to you.

"I realize that you didn't think very much of the photos from this morning, but I thought you might be interested in these ones I found of some old acquaintances,"

He leered, "since they will help you to understand just how you came to be here now."

He held up the first picture in front of her face. "You remember Lieutenant Gray?" Turning the picture around toward himself, he chuckled, "My, what a looker, I can certainly see why you couldn't keep your hands off her."

He proceeded to hold up several more pictures, continuing to comment on the photo or to mock her and Jillian. Finally, he laid out the last two pictures and Devon finally gave in and looked at the desk. One was a picture of her and Jillian, arms wrapped around each other and kissing. The background was hard to make out, but it looked like the wooded area by the lake on the base outside Boston. The second was a picture of Jillian sitting in a room much like the one Devon found herself in now. Her head was hung, shoulders slumped and she held her forehead in her hands, obviously defeated. As Devon stared at the pictures, Honeycutt removed a small tape recorder from his jacket pocket, set it on the table and hit play.

Jillian's voice, sounding fragile and scared, said, "What is it you want to know?"

"W e only want the truth, lieutenant. Then we can make a deal." A male voice answered.

"Alright then, I'll tell you." Her voice was raw with emotion and Devon could hear the desperation and exhaustion. The thought of Jillian desperate, scared and broken unexpectedly brought the sting of unwanted tears to Devon's eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut against them as her stomach rolled, fighting the onslaught of painful, unwanted memories. Jumping abruptly from her chair and stalking to the far corner of the room, she pressed her palms flat against the wall above her head. With her back to Honeycutt, Devon didn't see his mouth turn up in a gleeful sneer.

The fat man put the tape recorder away and put on a concerned mask. He spoke quietly, "I have always respected your loyalty, lieutenant. That's why I thought you deserved to know that Jillian Gray sold you out. Her statements corroborated all of the photographic evidence." He was making up lies as he went along, but no matter; whatever it took to get her. He walked over to where she was standing and leaned close, speaking directly into her ear, "She turned you in to save her ass from jail. She fucked you, and then she really fucked you." He couldn't help laughing out loud at his pun.

He watched her struggle for control, the muscle in her jaw was jumping and her arms shook as they pressed against the wall. The interrogator knew he had her balancing on a razor edge, all it would take is one more tiny push. "You know, come to think of it," his tone was matter of fact; "Maybe it's you. Maybe once you touch them they can't get far enough away." His hot breath burned on her skin, "The little slut in Lebanon, did she die trying to get away from you?"

The pain that had been building inside Devon for over two years coalesced into a blinding rage that exploded as his hideous laughter shredded her already tattered control. "AAHHH!" An animalistic roar erupted from her and she swung her right fist, connecting with his mouth. The blow sent spit and blood from his split lip flying in the air. He staggered back against the wall as she came at him again driving her shoulder into his chest, pinning him to the concrete with her hands at his collar squeezing off his air supply.

"No." She said in a lethally calm tone, her face inches from his, "You are the lying motherfucker here. If she had sold me out, you would have arrested me the very next day. You had nothing, just like now you pompous son of a bitch. I don't give a fuck," she slammed his head against the wall for emphasis, "what pictures you have. They mean nothing without witnesses and you don't have any because nothing happened except me having a drink in a bar." Clamping her hand like a vise on his neck she finished in a low menacing growl, "And if you ever disrespect Agent Sommers' memory again, I swear, I will send you straight to hell."

He struggled to break her grip and managed to choke out a cry for help before Devon finally released him. As soon as she did, he lumbered to the mirror and yelled for the guards. They entered quickly, shoved her face down onto the metal table, wrenched her hands behind her back and reapplied the handcuffs. The guards apparently thought she didn't go down quickly enough. One drove his fist into her right side sending the air out of her lungs and a low moan from her throat. The other grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face into the table. Devon felt her skin split along her right eyebrow and the blood run into her eye.

When they stood her up Honeycutt stepped close once again and snarled, "You're going to regret this."

"No matter what happens to me," she gasped trying to get air back into her lungs, "I will never regret hitting you, you lying fat fuck." His face turned purple with rage and he slapped her so hard across the face that she probably would have fallen, if not held up by the guards. She tasted blood and felt her lip begin to swell.

"Get her out of my sight," the chief thundered.

Devon was thrown forcefully into a cell where she spent the night haunted by her memories. When she finally dozed visions assaulted her dreams of Alex's body laying in the sand, her eyes staring in accusation. She spoke, only it was Jillian's voice full of pain and fear, "You didn't love me enough." Jumping awake, her breathing hard and fast, sweat pouring off her body, Devon cradled her head in her hands and let the tears flow. She cried for Alex, she cried for Jillian, and she cried for herself, wondering if some wounds were too deep to ever heal.

#

Mac pulled her pickup truck in front of her apartment building at 1830 hours, exhausted from a day of defensive tactics in the indoor building with little air conditioning in the morning and firearms training all afternoon in the blazing Florida sun. She pushed through the doorway into the air conditioned haven, stowing her gun belt on the top shelf of the closet in the master bedroom, and stripping off her clothes as she headed for the shower. Stepping directly into the tepid spray that passed for cold by the Deep South's standards, she slowly felt her body temperature falling into a normal range. Lathering up from head to toe, then rinsing thoroughly she stepped from the shower, feeling much better.

After throwing on a sleeveless t-shirt and cotton shorts, she headed for the kitchen, poured herself a large glass of iced tea and carried it toward the couch. On the way, she noticed the light blinking on the phone, indicating she had three messages. She pressed the play button and settled back to listen.

First message received at eight forty five am: Hey, buddy it's me

Devon. I was just getting ready to start work. Thought I might catch you. How's the academy

going? I can't wait to hear all about it. Things are okay here, a bit boring without you

well, anyway Ann and I went out last night. You know she's getting ready to

head to Alaska. So, I better go. Call me soon, okay? See ya.

Mac smiled as she thought of her friend, deciding to return her call as soon as she listened to the other messages.

Second message received at ten twenty three am: Captain McKinley

this is Susan Miller

um from CID. I know I'm not your favorite person, but please do not

delete this message. It is about Lieutenant James

Devon. She's in trouble, and I didn't know who else to call. They arrested her this morning. I can't explain over the phone. Please, please call me. I-she needs your help.

Scrambling to find a piece of paper and a pen, Mac scribbled down the number. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. Devon? Arrested? Her mind tried to wrap around the thought as the machine beeped again.

Message three received at twelve thirty eight pm: Mac! It's Ann. Something terrible has happened. I think CID arrested Devon this morning. W e were out last night and I stayed here at her place. They took her out of the building, but I don't know anything else. I'll be here at Devon's. Please call me when you get this message, no matter how late. Beep.

Panicked now, Mac found her address book and Devon's number, dialing quickly. Ann picked up on the first ring. "Hello." Her voice was strained.

"Hey, you. What's going on?" Mac tried to keep her voice even and calm although her insides felt like they were full of live electric wires.

"Oh my god, Mac! Thank you for calling. I don't know what to do, this is so terrible."

"Its okay, Ann. Just take a deep breath and tell me what happened." Mac said.

"W ell, we went out last night. Devon had a surprise going away thing for me at the club," Mac smiled briefly as she listened. "And I had too much to drink, so she brought me here. I woke up this morning-afternoon-and I called into the office to talk to her." She was struggling to maintain her thin hold on control, "And they said she was taken out by the MP's." Ann gasped in agony. "MP's Mac, what are we gonna do?"

"Ann, listen to me. I need to get some more information and I think I have the way to do that. Does anyone else know that you're there?"

"No, only Devon."

"Good. Then give me some time to find some things out and I'll call you back, okay?" She closed her eyes, wishing so much to be able to hold Ann and comfort her.

"Okay," Ann sounded frail. "Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Devon going to be okay?"

"I hope so, honey." Mac hung up and punched in Susan's number, wondering how much she could trust the agent. At the moment, she didn't have much choice.

Her mind replayed memories of her own battles with CID and she pushed away the memories of betrayal to focus on helping Devon.

"Hello?" Susan answered anxiously.

"It's McKinley." She waited for Susan to explain herself, knowing she could just as easily be setting a trap.

"Captain, thanks for calling me. I know you don't trust me

"

"Save the self serving comments, agent." Mac interrupted, "Tell me about Lieutenant James."

Susan related all of the details about the night at the club and Honeycutt's accusations, the photographs, the threats he made if she didn't falsify her report, and finally Devon's arrest. When she had finished she was in tears. "Captain, I saw her through the two way mirror, she thinks I wrote that report. The sadness in her eyes nearly broke my heart." Her tears flowed freely now.

"W hy do you care?" Mac had to ask; she had to know what side Susan was really on now. She waited while the other woman took several deep breaths, apparently thinking about her answer.

"Because I care about her. God help me I tried to stay detached, but there's just

something about her." Susan's voice trailed off.

Mac heard the sincerity in her answer and knowing that Susan certainly was putting herself in jeopardy by helping Devon, she decided to trust her. "Okay, Susan.

I appreciate your honesty. Can you fax me a copy of your original report? I know someone that may be able to help, but I'm going to need the proof."

"I'll send it right away." She hesitated, "Captain?"

"Yes?"

"There's one more thing." Mac heard intensity in Susan's voice that got her undivided attention. Susan drew a deep breath and blurted out, "I saw the chief coming out of a men's club with another man. More than once."

Mac asked carefully, "W hat are you saying?"

"He

he doesn't go there in an official capacity. I checked, there's no record of any investigations there. I have pictures."

Mac's mind reeled with this new information. "That motherfucker." She scowled.

"I hope you'll know what to do with this information. He has to be stopped."

"Nobody else knows about Honeycutt?" Mac was already formulating a plan.

"No."

"Alright. Get me the information ASAP. I'll take it from here."

"Captain? I'm sorry

for all of it. I never meant to hurt anybody. I

I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"No, Susan, you need to eventually forgive yourself. I'll be waiting for the fax. Then I'll be in touch with further instructions for you regarding those reports." She stopped a beat before adding, "Thank you."

Mac looked at the clock and cursed the helplessness she felt. It was almost 1930 hours. She paced around the apartment knowing that now she would get no sleep because there was nothing she could do for Devon tonight. Still, she thought, she might as well call an old friend; that way he could maybe get the ball rolling to get her released first thing in the morning. She tried to keep her mind from conjuring up frightening images of Devon being interrogated, psychologically abused, maybe even physically. If they fucking lay one hand on her

Dialing the phone, her eyes moved to the pewter frame on the end table with a picture of her and Devon standing in the helicopter bay in Beirut, grinning at each other. "Hang on, buddy," she said out loud, "We're coming."

Chapter 46

Hours later, physically and emotionally drained, Devon lay staring at the ceiling of the cell trying to conjure up pictures of her nephews in her head. She was so tired of thinking about anything in her life that remotely related to this relentless obsession of Honeycutt's. Her head throbbed and she briefly wished that she hadn't refused the sandwich earlier in the day; they had brought her nothing since. She tried to guess if it was still the same day or night, but had lost all sense of time in the windowless box. Two different guards appeared, cuffed her again behind the back and led her back to the interrogation room.

After a grueling session with an investigator she had never seen before Devon was once again led back to her cell. Every inch of her body ached, but mercifully, they finally removed the handcuffs that had remained on, binding her hands behind her back as she sat on the metal chair the entire interrogation session. The olive skinned man had repeatedly asked her the names of other gays and lesbians that she knew. Hour after hour, he alternated between offers of food or a phone call to her family in exchange for a name. When that didn't work he switched to threats of longer confinement, even hard labor at Leavenworth if she refused to cooperate.

Now back in her cell again, Devon lay down on her side on the small mattress and pulled her knees up to her chest. She was shivering but had no blanket so she wrapped her arms around her chest and closed her eyes, praying for sleep to allow her to escape for just a while.

She must have dozed. The sound of voices awakened her. As they drew nearer, she recognized Honeycutt's voice, "You can't just come in here and bark orders at my people. I'm in charge here." There was a note of desperation beneath the anger. Devon tried to see up the hallway, but couldn't.

"No, that's where you're wrong, chief, you can't hold a prisoner indefinitely without counsel." A tall man wearing army dress greens bearing the rank of lieutenant colonel, with medium brown hair, hazel eyes and a warm smile approached the bars of Devon's cell. He scrutinized her physical appearance and frowned. Turning back to Honeycutt, he instructed, "Open the door, chief and leave me alone with my client."

He switched his briefcase to his left hand, extending his right to Devon in greeting, "Lieutenant James? I'm Lt. Colonel Robert Meadows, your legal advisor." His handshake was firm and his smile genuine as he met Devon's questioning eyes.

"W ho? How did you know I was here? I don't understand," she finished uneasily.

The lawyer nodded reassuringly, "It's alright, lieutenant. Have a seat and I'll answer all of your questions. We have a lot of ground to cover, I understand."

Running a trembling hand through her disheveled hair, she laughed shakily, "I must look like hell."

"Don't worry; we'll get you out of here soon enough, lieutenant. In the mean time, I'll have someone run by your place and get you a fresh change of clothes."

"Thanks, and could you call me Devon, please?"

"Sure." He smiled again, "Okay, so let's get down to business, Devon."

#

Just before eight o'clock on Sunday night, approximately thirty five hours since Devon had been arrested and removed from the NSA building, her attorney knocked on the door large oak door of the stately accommodations reserved for the highest ranking military officers. The door opened and Meadows was ushered inside. He followed the long, purposeful strides of the grey haired resident of the home down a hallway of dark parquet flooring that led to a study with large picture windows looking out over a well manicured garden.

Closing the double doors behind them, the older man took a seat in one of the blue winged back chairs and indicated for the younger man to sit as well. "What do you have?"

"W ell, general, McKinley's information appears to be right on the money. I spent a few hours this morning interviewing Lieutenant James."

"How is she?" the general interrupted.

Shrugging and turning his hands palms up in the air, in a gesture of uncertainty, he replied, "She is obviously worn out. They interrogated her almost nonstop for six to eight hours at a time, as near as I could estimate." He stopped and sighed, knowing the next bit of information was going to anger the general, "Looks like they hit her a few times," the older man made a deep grumbling noise, "But you know she's pretty tough. She seems to be holding up fairly well."

The general moved over to the small bar area and poured whiskey into two glasses, returning to his chair and handing one to the attorney. "Go on."

The attorney extracted a folder from his briefcase, "I have copies of the CID 'official' report, which indicates conduct violating UCMJ regulations, with pictures allegedly backing the report up. However, Sergeant Miller's actual report, states that nothing improper happened, only that they were seen at that establishment."

"So, somebody altered the report?" the general asked, taking the pages from the lawyer to study them himself.

"It would seem so. I have sworn statements from the original investigator and several of the people who were at the club that night."

The general nodded, listening as he read. "What happens next?" he asked, looking up from the reports.

"I can't get her released until tomorrow morning at the earliest. Honeycutt knew what he was doing by grabbing her on a Saturday. I'll find a judge first thing and secure a release order."

"Very good, then." The general stood.

"General, I need you to take a look at this as well." Meadows handed over a manila envelope.

The general extracted the contents and stared disbelievingly. Finally, he looked up at the attorney. "These are authentic?"

"Yes, sir. It appears that the chief has been living quite a double life. Captain McKinley said you would know what to do with those."

The general nodded as he placed the pictures back into the folder. "I'll handle it."

"Sir, one more thing." The older man raised an eyebrow in question, "The judge will most likely only release her from the cell to housing confinement, but since she lives off post that will require that someone agree to be responsible for her. An assurance she will not disappear before the hearing."

"Fine," the general said with certainty. "Tell the judge that I will vouch for her. Christ, Robert I've never known a more honest person in my life than Devon James."

The general walked his guest to the door, instructing him to call the minute Devon was released from custody, "Let her go home and get cleaned up a bit tomorrow, then I want you to bring her directly here, Robert."

"Yes sir. Goodnight."

Back in the study, the grey haired gentleman picked up the receiver of the black telephone and punched in the ten digit number written on the pad next to his arm on the wide cherry desk.

"Mac?" He said when a woman's voice came through the other end of the line.

"General. Did you get Devon released?"

"No, not yet. We'll get her released first thing tomorrow morning."

"W hat about the information from Agent Miller? Is it going to be enough to drop the charges?"

"All the information you gave us seems to check out, so it shouldn't be a problem, but it is going to take a bit of time to get everything sorted out." He said.

"Okay, I'll be leaving here Friday morning. Thank you, sir."

The general smiled, "Then I'll look forward to seeing you Friday night."

Chapter 47

At eight thirty two Monday morning, Lt. Colonel Meadows slapped the court order releasing Devon into the general's custody down in the center of Honeycutt's desk. The CID chief sputtered and roared about lawyers manipulating the justice system, but in the end acquiesced, having a guard bring her to the office.

Meadows met the lieutenant at the doorway of the office to lead her out when Honeycutt called after them. They stopped momentarily and Devon turned to face him.

Honeycutt spoke with a voice full of contempt, "A word of warning, lieutenant, this isn't over. You are still the subject of serious charges and as such are confined to your living quarters. Is that understood?"

Their eyes locked in a hateful stare. Devon opened her mouth to respond but the attorney ushered her through the doorway into the hall, calling over his shoulder,

"My client will abide by the judge's order." W ith that they made their way quickly out of the building.

After Devon showered and changed into a set of desert fatigues, they stopped by a drive through where she was tempted to order one of everything from the breakfast menu. Instead, she settled for a ham and egg muffin, two hash browns, a cinnamon roll, fruit cup and a large coffee. "And a large coffee for me,"

laughed the colonel. As he drove, Devon asked in between bites, "So, where are we going now?"

"A mutual friend heard about your circumstance and is eager to see you." He sipped his coffee, giving no further explanation. Devon shrugged, just happy to be out of the jail cell. She settled back in the seat to enjoy the rest of her breakfast on the way to their mysterious destination.

The door opened and Devon's mouth gaped in wonder at the man standing in the threshold. He stepped toward her with his arms wide, wrapping her in a tight embrace, "How are you, child?" he said affectionately pulling her head to his chest.

She returned the fierce hug, tears blurring her vision, managing to say through the lump in her throat, "Better, sir. Colonel Brinkman? How-" Devon saw the silver star on the collar of the man still holding onto her shoulders, "Oh. Forgive me, general." She stiffened reflexively to attention.

He laughed kindly at the young officer who he had come to think of as a surrogate daughter, before reaching up to cup her face in his large hands. He tilted her head to examine her injuries. Narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he silently vowed that Honeycutt would pay dearly for his transgressions.

General Brinkman kept close tabs on Devon after sending her on the ISA assignment to Beirut and was proud beyond measure at her accomplishments. He was terrified when the news came of the bombing and the word that one of the army team leaders was shot. That she had survived all that, only to be treated this way here at home, made the career soldier barely able to contain his anger. Wrapping a long arm around Devon's shoulder, he guided her into the house to begin their visit. They had a lot to talk about.

#

Wednesday morning Chief Honeycutt hefted his large frame out from behind the wheel of his government-issue four door sedan in the parking lot of the CID office building. He leaned into the back seat to retrieve his briefcase, slammed the car door and stalked toward the rear door. Angrily jerking open the glass door, his mind was churning trying to plan his next course of action.

The judge had thrown out all of the parts of the report on James relating to the night that he had sent Karynn to shadow agent Miller. The prosecutor said it was possible to get a conviction based on Karynn's testimony and the circumstantial evidence of the pictures, but he wouldn't count on it. He threw his case into the chair in front of the desk, leaned over and pounded his fist on the blotter. Damn her, she will not get away from me again!

He mashed the intercom button, "Sylvia, get Karynn in here ASAP!" he shouted. Shortly thereafter, the agent in question appeared in the doorway.

"You wanted to see me, chief?" she asked as she entered the office.

"I want to make very sure that we are clear about what I expect your testimony to be in the James case." The petite woman nodded. "Your pictures tell a good story, but it might not be enough. We at least need to be in a situation where it's your word against theirs about what was said."

"But chief, I didn't actually hear them talking," she said warily.

"Are you going to stand there and tell me that there is any doubt in your mind what was going on between James and Miller?" He was nearly shouting.

"No, sir

but

"

"W ell then what's the problem? If you know in your heart it's the truth, then what difference does it make if you testify that you heard her come on to another woman?"

"Now how interesting is this?" a male voice interjected from the doorway. Honeycutt visibly paled as he watched in horror as General Brinkman, Agent Miller and two uniformed MP's stepped into the office. Brinkman approached the heavyset investigator, the hint of a smile pulling at his mouth. "Please, don't let us interrupt.

I believe you were about to finish giving your subordinate instructions to lie under oath in a criminal proceeding? Is that about right?"

"You can't prove that, it will be our word against yours," Honeycutt indicated Karynn, his voice sounded almost shrill, his eyes wild with panic now.

Brinkman did smile now, "Really? I'm willing to bet that they'll be more apt to accept the word of a general and the sergeant here," he nodded his head toward Susan. "Particularly since Agent Miller's integrity exposed the fact that you previously altered several official military documents, Chief Honeycutt. And, I'm certain that this agent," he pointed to Karynn, "will gladly tell the judge all about your transgressions, rather than join you as a co-defendant in a perjury trial."

"Perjury?" Honeycutt was regaining some of his confidence. "James was in that bar, the pictures don't lie. It took years to make this case." He pointed a chubby finger at Brinkman, "And all this time, you were treating that low life like she was some hero. That's despicable. She doesn't belong in the army-none of them do."

The general stepped forward, holding one of Susan's pictures up in front of Honeycutt's face. "Funny you should mention pictures, chief. You won't be in the army for long. Trust me."

Honeycutt started to stammer something about his innocence when the general waved a dismissive hand in the air, "Save it for your defense counsel, Chief.

Gentleman, please remove Chief Honeycutt from the building." With that, the two MP's handcuffed the fat man and transported him to a holding cell in the military police section of the complex. Ironically, the same cell that Devon had occupied the weekend before.

Chapter 48

Friday night, Devon arrived at the general's house for dinner at precisely 1900 hours. He instructed her not to come in uniform and to dress casually, but she still had fussed over her outfit and finally settled on a pair of tan chinos, navy blue polo shirt and brown loafers. She rang the bell and fidgeted nervously, uncertain of any hidden reason for the dinner, like her plans for the future. While she was being held, Devon had a lot of time to think and she came to the decision that she would not re-enlist in January. She knew that the general thought she could have a great career in spite of everything that had happened, and she was grateful for his help and faith in her, but she was certain that she did not want to stay in the Army.

Lost in her thoughts when the door opened, Devon was slow to react to the sight of the woman standing in front of her. When her brain engaged, she let out a choked cry and threw herself into the waiting arms. "Mac!" Then all she could do is laugh and cry all at once, clutching to her friend in disbelief.

Mac drew her inside, teasing, "Jesus, I can't leave you alone for even a few weeks without you getting yourself into all kinds of shit, huh?" She tousled the blond curls as they walked together down the hall.

Devon was stunned and moved to tears at the sight when they reached the living room. In addition to Mac, the general, Ann, Carmen, Elaina, Susan and Robert, her attorney were all seated around the room, enjoying drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The general greeted her with a warm smile and hug. "Now that the guest of honor is here, we can really get this celebration under way." He called happily to the rest of the guests.

"Everyone," Robert said, "Let me be the first to officially announce that all of the charges against Devon were dropped today." The group erupted in cheers.

The general stepped forward with his glassed raised, "Chief Honeycutt has been removed from his position and demoted. Criminal charges have been brought against him for his role in falsifying documents of the investigation. A trial is forthcoming." He dropped an arm around Devon's shoulder and hugged her tightly.

"I'm just sorry you had to go through all this, Devon."

"I wouldn't have made it through without all of you." Devon looked around the room at her friends. "I don't know what to say. Thanks doesn't seem to begin to cover it." Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Okay, no more of that," the general said. "This is a party, let's have fun."

Susan made her way to where Devon was pouring herself another glass of wine. As she saw her approach, Devon held up the bottle, "Ready for a bit more?" She nodded. Sensing that Susan had something on her mind, Devon waited quietly.

Susan began, "Devon, I

" her voice broke, uncertainty and guilt squeezing her throat tightly. She took a sip of wine, reassured as Devon smiled at her. "I just wanted to apologize for my initial role in the investigation. I never thought

" she blew out a long breath.

"I know, Susan," Devon let her off the hook.

"Anyway, I also need you to know that I didn't stop to save myself. That night at the bar, you made me think-no that's not right-you made me feel something I never had before." Devon's eyes held hers as she struggled to continue, "I could never do anything to intentionally hurt you." She finished softly. Susan lowered her eyes and turned to move away when Devon caught her forearm with a hand to stop her.

"Hey," Devon leaned in to meet her eyes again, "we're even now, 'cause you saved my butt. I won't forget that. Ever." She smiled brightly at the other woman who couldn't help but smile in return.

"Thanks. I'll never forget you, Devon." Setting her glass down on the bar, she brushed her fingers on the back Devon's hand and stepped away to say goodnight to the general. Devon watched as Mac walked her to the front door and the two women exchanged a few words before Susan left.

It was getting close to midnight when the general poured Devon, Mac and himself a brandy as they sat by the fire in his study after all the other guests had gone.

Still relishing freedom, Devon didn't think she had ever been so relaxed in her life. She swirled the amber liquid around in the glass and stared into the fire, thinking about how quickly her life had changed, and how she would never again take her freedom for granted.

General Brinkman spoke, interrupting her reverie. "Devon, what do you want to do now? I mean, have you thought about the future?"

She looked back at him seriously, "Yes, sir I have. I know you want me to stay in, try to make captain-"

"Oh, there's no trying," He interrupted, "with your service record and decorations, I could get that done in the blink of an eye."

"Yes, sir. The thing is, I don't think I want to stay in the Army. I gave it a lot of thought recently, I really did." She paused, knowing she was going to disappoint him. "I am not going to re-up. I hope you can understand, sir." The pain in her eyes made him smile sadly.

"W ell, the army is losing a great officer." He looked at Mac, "Actually, two great leaders in one year." He shook his head, "When are they going to learn?"

"So, what's going to happen to Honeycutt?" Devon asked.

"The charges he's facing are pretty serious," the general studied his drink, "he may get jail time."

"Yes, but for a guy like him the real punishment has already happened," Mac stated. "Being that deep in the closet and being outed

" she whistled softly,

"

almost makes me feel sorry for the guy."

When Devon looked at her in shock, she laughed and added, "I said almost. That bastard is getting exactly what he deserves."

#

The next morning, Mac headed to the kitchen to start the coffee before Devon woke up. Moving quietly through the apartment, she turned on the stove light so as not to disturb her sleeping friend. After filling the basket and water reservoir she flipped on the switch and turned toward the front door to check on the paper delivery.

As she was walking past the couch a voice startled her, "Good morning."

"Chrissakes!" she exclaimed, jumping about two feet in the air, heart beating wildly. "You scared the shit out of me." She hadn't noticed Devon sitting silently on the couch.

"Sorry."

"Hey, it's your place," Mac dropped onto the couch next to Devon. Her eyes were adjusting to the dim lighting. She scrutinized the younger woman, "How long have you been up?" Even in the semidarkness the deep hollows and shadows around Devon's eyes were visible.

"Um

I don't know." She rubbed her hands over her face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just a little trouble sleeping." Devon said noncommittally.

Mac nodded, "It will take some time, but you'll be fine. If you ever need to talk, you know I'm here, right?"

"I know. Thanks for everything. Again." She smiled sheepishly.

"Don't mention it. Hey, what do you say we go for a run? It'll do us both good."

"Sounds like a plan," Devon agreed.

Thirty minutes later, as the sun was painting the horizon in shades of pink, orange and yellow, the two women rounded the bend back into the complex and decided to race the remaining distance to Devon's front door. Legs and arms pumping furiously, neither woman willing to give in to their competitive nature, they sprinted all out across the final expanse of parking lot. Lunging for the door, they collided, sending them both sprawling onto the grass and laughing hysterically.

Finally able to stand, they made their way inside, still gripped by a case of the giggles as the door closed behind them.

Devon pushed past the kitchen counter, her sides aching from the run and fits of laughter, relishing in the feeling of release the adrenaline rush was giving her.

Reaching into the cabinet, she pulled down two coffee mugs and poured them each a cup. She grabbed the creamer out of the refrigerator splashing a bit into her coffee and holding up the carton in offering to Mac who shook her head. Leaning into the refrigerator, she surveyed their options, which were few because she hadn't been home in a few days and most everything was spoiled. She sighed and closed the door.

"How about some toast?" she took four slices of bread from the plastic bag and popped them into the toaster. Then she pulled up a stool next to her friend at the breakfast bar.

Sipping her coffee, Mac looked at Devon seriously, "So, really Dev, what are you planning to do when you get out?"

Devon shrugged, "I don't really know. I guess look for a job. Maybe head back to Pittsburgh

" she shrugged again.

"They're hiring police officers in Tampa." Mac said.

"I never really thought about being a cop."

"It's a no brainer. Policing is very similar to the military in rank structures and discipline, things you're used to. You have a great background with your airborne and rappelling training."

"I don't know, I'll have to think about it."

"And," Mac said with a cocky grin, "Think about it, chicks dig uniforms. You already know that." Devon laughed out loud at her.

"Shut up," she shoved Mac playfully.

"No listen," Mac said seriously as her eyes twinkled, "I've given this a lot of thought. This could be the best move you ever made. Look at you. I mean, objectively speaking. Not that I am interested that way, but you are good looking," she grabbed a fistful of blond curl, "women swoon over this mop and those baby blues."

Devon groaned out loud.

Continuing as if she hadn't heard, Mac said, "You've got those cool scars, and on top of it all you'll be in uniform. Holy shit, every lady in Tampa is going to be going nuts over you." She finished, folding her arms across her chest, supremely satisfied at having made her well rounded case.

"You are completely insane," Devon started laughing so hard her sides hurt again.

Just after eight Devon and Mac said goodbye in the parking lot, much as they had they day Mac left in July. Inside the apartment, Devon was alone for the first time since she had been released. It had only been eight days since her arrest, and it felt like a lifetime had gone by. She knew with certainty that the experience had changed her forever. Actually, so many things had changed her in the past couple of years, she wasn't even sure if she knew herself anymore.

Picking up the papers stacked neatly on the counter, she grinned when she saw that it was the application for the police department in Tampa. She just doesn't quit. Pouring herself a glass of orange juice, Devon walked out on to the front step and sat in the warm sunlight to think.

What was she going to do with herself? Her skills were in deciphering and locating signals for intelligence work. She supposed there were probably some civilian companies with government contracts that she could apply to, but was her clearance tainted now? She just didn't know. Moving back to PA was an option, but she really wasn't sure if she could relate to anyone anymore. She felt like a stranger, even to herself. Her sister would try to be supportive, but she had her own family to worry about.

Gulping down the rest of the juice, Devon went back inside to located a pen and begin filling out the job application for a police officer. Mac was right, she was comfortable in uniform, knew how to shoot, and jump out of planes. Sounded like skills a cop could use. After everything she had seen and been through, maybe a brand new start was just what she needed. Somewhere nobody knew her, except Mac, and she wouldn't have to pretend she was happy when she wasn't.

Space and time to get herself back together. A new life in Florida might just be the answer.

She snatched up the phone and dialed her friend's number, knowing she was still hours from getting the message. "Hey. It's me. I filled out the application and I'll put it in the mail today. Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll hire me. Of course that means you might have to put me up for a little while until I find a place, but don't forget this was your idea. See you soon, buddy."

#

On a cold snowy February morning, twenty six year old Devon James pulled her Jeep past the guard shack and saluted the private on sentry duty at the gate of Fort Meade as she exited the base for the last time. She felt an odd melancholy as she watched the gate disappear in her rear view mirror and cranked up the volume of the radio to drown the disquieting feeling, knowing it was partly just nervousness about starting over again; something she desperately needed to do.

It was a bit overwhelming to think about her future, when the past still lurked like a thundercloud hovering over her memories. She cut short her visit to Pittsburgh after only a few days, realizing that although she enjoyed the time with her sister and nephews, she scared the kids when she woke them up yelling in a nightmare and she heard her brother in law asking Leigh how long she was going to stay.

She tried to go out, but Devon no longer felt anything in common with her old friends and no interest in telling them about her life. Worse yet, the city now held memories of Jillian, something she steadfastly avoided at all cost. One night she went out to a bar and ended up leaving with a cute brunette who was wearing a Penn State sweatshirt, but when the alcoholic cloud cleared her brain, she realized it was not Alex. She stole quietly from the woman's apartment before dawn, too ashamed and confused by her behavior to even face her. So, in the end, she decided that the best thing to do was to come back to her apartment, pack up her life and move forward as soon as possible, leaving the painful memories far behind.

Soon, thoughts of seeing Mac and the promise of a new future turned her anxiety to anticipation as she merged from I495 onto the ramp for interstate 95 south.

Devon knew she had been forever changed by her experiences. But, she had also learned valuable lessons that would serve her well in life. The one thing she was certain of now was that she was a survivor, and no matter what, giving in to the demons was not an option.

It was six weeks until the police academy started. Plenty of time to get herself settled, re-establish her workout routine and learn her way around her new home.

Yes, that was a great plan. After that, she would busy herself with learning her new career and doing whatever it took to excel from day one. Her road back from hell didn't seem quite as insurmountable as the bright morning sunlight bathed the interior of the jeep in warmth; Devon smiled feeling happier than she had in longer than she could remember.

"W ell, here I go," she said out loud. The sounds of Kansas' glorious brand of rock and roll filled the jeep as Devon sped down the highway. The singer seemed to be sending a message directly to her. He was right; hanging on to the past was pointless. "Everything is dust in the wind." Truer words were never spoken.

Epilogue:

August 1989

"Sign here for your belongings." The deputy pushed the form through the slot. After the inmate signed and returned the paper, he slid the drawer open. The

inmate extracted a clear plastic bag containing his clothing and other personal items. He was led into a small changing room where he removed the bright orange prison uniform, replacing it with the clothes he was wearing when he came in.

For three years the Florida State Prison had been his home, ever since he was convicted and sentenced on the aggravated battery charge. Outside the gate he handed the taxi driver the voucher the clerk had given him.

"W here to buddy?" The cabbie asked.

"Nearest town is fine. Cheapest motel."

He removed a piece of paper from his wallet. It was tattered from being folded and unfolded hundreds of times. A wallet sized picture of a man in a military uniform fell out of the paper. He looked at the letter and picture. It was all he had left of his father. A suicide note.

That's what they called it. Well, they were full of shit. They killed him just as surely as if they had pulled the trigger of the gun themselves. My father was not a fag. Protecting those bitches, that's what they were doing. His father knew what they were and it was his duty to rid the military of their kind. But they turned on him and drove him to desperation.

Three years he had time to think about them and figure out what he was going to do. The time was drawing near. Oh, yeah. A friend of his father's gave him the information that James was living in Tampa now. She was a cop. A fucking cop. This was turning out to be more poetic justice than he'd ever dreamed.

He stared unseeing out the window as the cabbie turned down the main street. Soon. "I'll be seeing you soon Devon James."

The End

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Copyright © July 2008 by Lynette Mae. All Rights Reserved

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The Sandbox 101

< SandBox The> Lynette Mae - Stories< SandBox The>

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48