Graham was surprised to see the commander walk in at 0700 on Sunday. The report from the night watch said it was she who had picked up Cobra's trail and tracked her down in the late hours of the night. Interestingly, there was no report on the surveillance
inside the bar. Mills would have to do that herself, and thus far she hadn't. He nodded hello as she poured coffee and joined him at the large central workstation.
"How long have you been on this detail, Graham?" She asked conversationally. She'd had three hours' sleep, and after rising, had worked out in the command center's gym for an hour. After showering in the agent's locker room, she dressed in the jeans and
polo shirt she'd packed in her gym bag.
"Since the president's nomination," he replied.
"Is that true for the rest of the team?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And have things been this out of hand the entire time?"
Graham held his breath for a second, trying to judge who he might potentially offend that mattered. He couldn't think of anyone. He expelled the breath almost gracefully. "Worse. At least last night we found her. There have been a half dozen nights, and
one whole weekend, when we didn't know where she was."
"Christ," Regina muttered. "How in the hell did you keep that quiet?"
"Cobra's not stupid." Graham grimaced at the understatement. "She knew we'd have to hit the panic button if she was completely out of control, so she called in every few hours, randomly, from pay phones or her cell, to prove she was okay. We couldn't
trace the calls, so we just ran around like assholes the whole time trying to find her."
"No repercussions?"
"Cobra's got a lot of pull with her old man. If someone complains about her, and it gets back to him, it had better be serious or you're looking for a new job. And he doesn't seem to think a little joyriding is too serious."
"I do," Regina said flatly. "And since we're not going to get any help from above. We'll have to stay tight on her. But don't get in her way. She's most likely to run if we crowd her."
"I think everyone understands the plan."
"See that they do." Her voice was stone.
"Yes ma'am."
At 3:00 p.m., Emma emerged from her apartment building carrying her coat over one arm, nodded to the agent holding the door open for her, and climbed into the rear of a black Suburban waiting at the curb. Regina Mills was already inside. This was a pre-publicized
event and Secret Service was expected. The interior of the spacious vehicle was warm; the glass partition between the passenger area and the front seat where two other agents sat was closed.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Swan," Regina remarked as the SUV pulled into traffic. The first daughter had dressed for the gallery opening in a simple cream colored dress. The thin straps accentuated the toned muscles of her shoulders and arms, while the scooped
neck revealed just a hint of cleavage. The dress spoke of taste and understand elegance. It was hard for Regina to believe that the graceful woman sitting across from her was the same one she had seen engaged in anonymous sex just hours before. But
then public persona was so often merely a façade. She knew that from experience.
"Agent Mills, we meet again. Are you to be my date?" Emma asked mildly. She noted that her security chief looked well attired for the semiformal gathering in a charcoal gray silk suit and monochromatic shirt, fashionably cut and beautifully tailored to
her long, tight form. This is one public servant who doesn't buy her clothes off the rack.
"I was planning on coming inside after you made your entrance." The guest list was a mixture of every important art collector in the city, many of the noted artists, and a smattering of politicians. Regina had photos of everyone, and invitations would
be required for admission to the Soho gallery. They had an advance team already in place doing routine crowd surveillance, and three agents would be curious onlookers gathered outside. Regina planned on being inside with two other agents, while the
second team waited in the car. "It's not the best idea for me to be too easily identified, for those times we'd prefer none of us be recognized."
"Times like last night, you mean?" Emma's laugh was brittle. "When it might be embarrassing?"
"For those times when you might like as much privacy as possible." Regina amended quietly.
Emma stared at her. "You'd like me to think you care?"
Regina shrugged lightly, a small smile flickering at the corner of her mouth. "The happier you are, the happier I am going to be."
Emma laughed again, this time wit no restraint. "You are honest at least, although I am not sure how far that will get you."
"It's the only card I have to play." Regina said seriously.
"Your approach is certainly novel, Commander." Emma surveyed her coolly. "I'm used to strong armed tactics, 'behave or else'. No one has tried the humble 'I'm just here to look after you' routine before. I suppose you think I'll fall for that and suddenly
bare my soul for you?"
Her tone mockingly suggestive, and her frank survey of Regina's body left little question of her intent. She shifted slightly on the leather seat, exposing an expanse of smooth, well muscled thigh.
Regina smiled, unperturbed. No matter how attractive Emma Swan was, and she was damned attractive, Regina had no intention of being sidetracked. "If I cant do my job without getting in your way, I will. As much as that is possible. I'll see that that
happens. There'll be times when it's impossible. I'll apologize in advance for that."
"But you won't bend the rules, not even as a favor?" Emma questioned softly, her tone heavy with innuendo. "I can be very generous with my payment."
"No." Regina stated flatly. She bent her head slightly as a voice in her ear appraised her of their location. Looking up, she caught the surprise in Emma's eyes before her elegant features set into an expression of arrogant dismissal.
"We're almost there," Regina informed her. "One of the agents will walk you in."
"I know the drill," Emma snapped, irritated at the agent's implacable demeanor. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Mills is straight after all. But the way she looked in the bar last night! So damned hot. And she seemed so comfortable in there.
Knowing Regina was watching from across the room while the stranger in leather took pleasure form her body had been an incredible turn on, more exciting for her than anything the woman had been doing. That realization had unsettled her, and she wanted
Regina to feel as disquieted as she had the night before. So far, she hadn't been able to crack her cool chief's cool exterior. If she couldn't unbalance Regina in some way, it was going to be very difficult to be very difficult to elude her and he
watchdogs.
"Enjoy the opening, Ms. Swan," Regina said quietly as she slid from the vehicle and held the door for her. Emma did not grace her with a response.
A willowy blonde in a form fitting navy silk sheath greeted Emma with an affectionate hug and whispered softly, "Hey darlin'. I called you all last evening. Out on the prowl?"
Emma returned Ashley Boyd's hug then shrugged imperceptibly, aware of the reporters nearby "For a while."
They moved away form the crowd milling around the small bar where the obligatory wine and cheese was being offered. Emma smiled at the people she knew as well as those she didn't. She had so much practice as this, she barely registered the faces any longer.
"Get lucky?" Ashley probed with the slightest edge in her voice. They had known each other for years, since schooling at Lubavitch, where they had been lovers briefly. There had been more than one time since then that Ashley wished they still were. There
were moments when she caught sight of Emma unexpectedly, and her breath would catch with sudden desire. Emma was beautiful, talented, intelligent, and emotionally remote. Just the kind of challenge Ashley liked in her women. When she looked at the
cool, self contained woman beside her, she barely remember the eager, open young girl with whom she had shared love and simple, unbridled sexual pleasure. She hadn't caught a glimpse of her in years.
"Depends on how you define lucky." Emma's smile was brittle. "I enjoyed her."
"Did she enjoy you?" Ashley pushed, knowing full well Emma rarely allowed her sexual conquests the pleasure of having her. Which was one of the reasons Ashley stayed attached. Like the exquisite, one of a kind work of art she brokered, Ashley lusted after
the exceptional, the singular, the one thing that no one else had. She wanted to be the one to wrest a cry of passion from those beautiful lips, to break the silence of Emma's isolation.
"She got what she was looking for." A warning flickered in Emma's green eyes. There were places where even her oldest friend was not welcome. "She left satisfied."
Yes, but did you? Ashley wisely decided to let it go. There was business at hand. She surveyed the room, pleased at the turnout. Whenever she showed Emma's paintings, there was interest. Some of it, of course, was due to Emma's notoriety, but most of
it was due to her genuine talent. The collectors were beginning to buy her work, recognizing its value. It wasn't a solo showing this time, but Emma was the featured artist.
"Where's your new spooky?" Ashley asked.
"Directly across the room. She just came in," Emma responded. Regina Mills was looking casually in their direction without seeming to focus on them. She was good. Emma knew perfectly well that she was the only thing her security chief was looking at.
She also knew that the handsome agent only saw her as an assignment, an object to be moved, contained, and controlled on some giant cheeseboard. Emma might be the queen, but she had been stripped of her power. She was ruled by pawns, and she hated
it. Especially when her keeper was a woman so attractive that she felt a twinge of desire every time she saw her. That made her even more eager to escape those intense brown eyes.
"Oh my," Ashley murmured, following Emma's gaze. She took in the lean physique and androgynous features in one swift, appraising glance. "Now she is tantalizing."
Irked at the suggestive tone in Ashley's voice and even more irritated at her own surge of possessiveness, Emma snapped, "Yeah, if she isn't being paid to watch you."
"I'd almost be willing to pay for that," Ashley rejoined, ignoring the edge in Emma's tone. She had never let friendship stand in the way of her attraction to another woman, and if Emma was interested too, that just intensified the challenge. This one
looked like she would take some work though. There was a nearly visible barrier around her, her indifference shouting look if you want to, I could care less. Ashley loved bringing those untouchable types to their knees, so to speak.
"You need to mingle darlin'," Ashley said as she moved away. "And so do I if I am going to sell anything."
Emma watched her seductively little friend melt into the crowd, wondering how long it would take her to get around to Regina Mills. Frowning at the surge of concern. Emma turned with a smile to the director of the Museum of Modern Art, greeting him by
name without a hint of her inner disquiet.
"It's a shame you can't enjoy the artwork," Ashley said softly as she moved next to Regina. "Not that watching Emma isn't enjoyable, of course." She extended on longed fingered hand, a diamond almost large enough to be ostentatious, but so beautiful as
to be merely breathtaking, sparkled on her right ring finger. "I'm Ashley Boyd, Emma's agent."
"How do you do." Regina nodded politely, knowing full well exactly who the sophisticated women beside her was, and intentionally not revealing her own name. "I have managed a glance or two at the works. You have a fine collection."
"See anything you like?" Ashley queried teasingly. She didn't see the point in being coy. She was well beyond that point in her life. She allowed one leg to rest gently against Regina's trousered thigh. It could have been the press of the crowd that brought
her so close, but they both knew it wasn't.
"Actually, yes." Regina registered the contact and the heat of Ashley's leg against hers. She knew if she glanced down she would see the creamy expanse of the woman's breasts revealed by the low scoop of her softly clinging dress. She didn't look down.
She gazed past her, instead, to where Emma stood in conversation with a young man who resembled every stereotype of struggling young artist she had ever seen, right down to the rumpled tweed jacket and scraggly beard. She kept her eyes on the as they
spoke.
"There's a series of sketches, nudes, on the far right wall. Charcoal on paper. They're hers, aren't they?"
Ashley studied her in surprise. She doubted many people had paid any attention to the small sketches in the midst of the large oils and other large canvases. But that wasn't the real reason for her careful answer.
"The artist is Mandy Singer."
"Uh-huh," Regina replied with a slight smile. "Ms. Singer's strokes resemble those of Ms. Swan, as does the use of light and shadow and spatial relationship. Of course, the president's daughter probably isn't interested in studies of female nudes. Are
they for sale?"
"Yes," Ashley replied, intrigued and immensely attracted.
"And the transactions are confidential?"
"If the buyer desires. Once the works are consigned to me, the buyer becomes my client."
"The buyer wishes to remain anonymous," Regina stated smoothly, shifting her position slightly to keep Emma in sight.
Ashley caught her breath as Regina's arm unintentionally brushed her breast. She felt her nipple harden, painfully pleasant, and knew it was visible beneath the sheer material of her dress. How is it possible to be this aroused by someone who is practically
ignoring you?
"I guarantee it," Ashley managed, her voice husky.
"Thank you."
"Need we discuss price?" Ashley asked, getting her hormones under control. She was a businesswoman, after all.
"That won't be necessary."
"Perhaps you'll allow me to take you to lunch then to discuss the details." As she spoke Ashley rested her fingers on Regina's forearm, gently squeezing the hard muscles beneath the fine fabric.
Regina met her gaze fully for the first time, reading the invitation in them. "Lunch would be fine. I'll call."
"Yes, please do."