Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

  Zoe nodded. Provided he could really do it. His instincts were to protect—anyone, really, but probably women in particular. He would need to be a truly exceptional leader to overcome his inherent prejudices in that regard.

  But if anyone could be that kind of leader, Jake Robinson could.

  "You've got a deal," she said.

  "So. Honestly. Are you really okay?" His gaze was so intense, she could have sworn he was trying to read her mind. "What really happened, Zoe? Did this guy do more than just push you down?"

  "Have you ever had your chute fail—you know, skydiv­ing?" Zoe asked.

  He gazed at her for several long moments, but then ap­parently decided to let her answer his question in her own way. It was a tough question, and if she had to go in circles to answer it, that was okay with him.

  "Skydiving, huh?" Jake laughed softly. "Funny you should mention that. Jumping is one of those things I've always hated. I mean, I've had to do it as a SEAL. It's part of the package. But some guys'11 jump every chance they get. I've always had to force myself to do it." He paused. "And yes, I've had to cut myself free from the main chute more than once. It was pretty damn terrifying."

  "You know that feeling you get right before you pull the backup chute—that sense of complete helplessness? Like, if this doesn't work, it's all over?"

  Jake nodded. "Oh, yeah. Personally, I like being in con­trol, which is why I probably don't like jumping."

  "That's what it felt like today," she told him. "When Wayne was..." She closed her eyes. "When he was on top of me, tearing at my bathing suit."

  Jake swore softly.

  "You want honesty, Jake? For one awful moment, I thought I was going to be raped and that I wasn't going to be able to do anything to stop it. That kind of helplessness is not a really nice feeling, so you're right, I'm still a little shaken. But I'll be fine."

  She opened her eyes to find Jake watching her, a mixture of emotions on his face. Anger. Remorse. Regret. Attrac­tion. The power of his other feelings made him unable to hide his attraction. "Zoe, I'm so sorry this happened."

  "It's really no biggie. I mean, I was the one who wasn't being careful. I should have known this particular guy would be trouble. And then I made a second mistake by letting him get too close. I definitely underestimated the situation. If I'm paying the right amount of attention, I'm completely capable of taking care of someone that size. But I messed up. And I almost paid for it."

  "What's his last name?" Jake asked. "Wayne what?"

  "No," Zoe said. "Sir. No disrespect intended, but I'm not going to tell you."

  "You were sexually assaulted." His voice broke. "This is not something to just say oh, well about and let go."

  "What are you going to do, Jake? Find him and beat him up? And maybe blow our cover when he recognizes you in a few weeks when you walk into Mel's bar with Christopher Vincent? Or maybe you think I should press charges? I'm supposed to be a drifter, right? My cover is that I've had my share of trouble with the law, that I'm jaded with the system—ready to be enlightened by the CRO's doctrine. Somehow it doesn't fit for me to go run­ning to the police and shouting for justice."

  He knew she was right. She could see it all over his face. He had such an expressive, wonderful face.

  She leaned closer. "Our job here is to regain possession of that Trip X. That takes priority over everything. Even this."

  Jake exhaled in frustration. "I just... I know. I just hate not being able to do anything."

  She gave him a shaky smile. "You want to do some­thing? You could put your arms around me for a minute."

  He didn't need more of an invitation than that. He reached for her, and she found herself wrapped in his arms.

  He smelled so good and felt so familiar—as if she'd been in his arms far more than just that one other time.

  His arms were warm and so solid as he held her tightly, as he stroked her hair. It was funny how much better that made her feel.

  It didn't mean she was weak. It didn't mean she wasn't strong. She didn't need him to hold her, but it sure was nice that he was there.

  Zoe closed her eyes, not wanting this minute she'd asked for to end.

  She felt him sigh and braced herself, waiting for him to pull away. But he didn't. And she didn't.

  "God," he finally said on another sigh, still holding her tightly. "This just feels too good."

  Zoe lifted her head and found herself gazing directly into his eyes. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

  He pushed her damp hair from her face. "It feels inap­propriate," he whispered. "Doesn't it?"

  She gazed at the graceful shape of his mouth. "Not to me."

  "I'm not going to kiss you again," he said hoarsely, pulling away, pushing himself off the built-in couch and all the way across the tiny room. "Not until I have to."

  Zoe tried to smile, tried to make a joke as he slipped on his brown leather flight jacket and prepared to leave. "Gee, I didn't realize kissing me would be such a negative."

  He turned to give her a long look. "You know damn well that I liked it. I know it wasn't real, but nevertheless, I liked it too much. I'm leaving tonight," he added.

  Zoe stood up. "Tonight? But..."

  "I'm ready as I'll ever be and this...this is getting crazy.

  You be careful working at Mel's," he ordered. "With luck, I'll see you in the bar in a few weeks."

  "Jake."

  He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and looked back.

  Zoe's heart was in her throat. He'd liked kissing her. Too much. "I liked it, too," she said, adding, "kissing you." As if he'd needed her explanation.

  Another man might've stepped toward her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her until the room spun. But Jake just gave her a crooked smile that was overshadowed by the sadness in his eyes.

  "Be safe," he said, and walked out the door.

  Jake knew from the way Harvard cleared his throat that the moment of truth had arrived.

  It was time for him to leave. So if anyone was going to try to make him change his mind, it was now or never.

  Jake had kind of hoped it would be never.

  So much for hoping.

  "Permission to speak freely, sir."

  Jake looked from Harvard to all four of the lieutenants, and then at the enlisted men. They were all there but Zoe. She wasn't part of this. Or maybe the men had intentionally excluded her.

  "This isn't a democracy, Senior," Jake said mildly.

  "At least hear us out, Admiral." Admiral. When Billy called him admiral, it meant he was dead serious.

  Jake sighed. "I don't need to hear you out," he said. "You don't think I'm up for this. You think it's been too long since I've seen action, since I've been out in the real world. You don't think I can keep up, despite the fact that every time we've run together, you've had to fight to keep up with me."

  "This is different than running, and you know it," Billy said. "Yes, you're physically fit for—" He broke off.

  Jake bristled. "Go on, say it. For an old man. Right?"

  "Jake, I love you, and I'm worried about you," Billy said, cutting through to the bottom line, the way he always did so well. "I don't know why you're doing this when any one of us could find a way to get inside the CRO—"

  "Because I can walk through those gates in the morn­ing," Jake told Billy, told them all, "and have dinner at Christopher Vincent's private dining table by night. If you or Cowboy or Lucky were to go in there, God knows how many months it would take you to work your way up to just being able to stand guard outside the dining room door."

  He looked them all directly in the eyes, one at a time. Billy. Cowboy. Mitch. Lucky. Harvard. Bobby. Wes. "We don't have months, gentlemen. The CRO could decide to do a test run of the Triple X at any time, in any city." They all had family, friends living all over the country, and his unspoken message cut through, loud and clear. Until they regained possession of the T-X, no one was safe.

  Jake shouldered his bag of gear.
"Now, who's taking Mitch and me to the airport?"

 

  The Air Force flight to South Dakota seemed to take forever.

  Mitch slept for most of it, only waking as they began their descent.

  Jake was sick and tired of thinking about the way his team had questioned his plan. He'd worked hard over the past week to gain their respect. He'd thought his physical stamina, his ability to run hard and fast, had won them over. Obviously, he'd been wrong.

  His team thought of him as an old man.

  He wished Billy was with him instead of Mitch. He'd wanted to talk to the kid about Zoe, find out if he was shocked by Jake's intention to pretend he and the young doctor were romantically involved.

  But Jake's plan had called for one of the SEALs to wind up arrested, thrown into jail for conspiracy and charges of

  aiding and abetting the escape of a suspected felon. Both Mitch and Billy had volunteered, but Jake knew that play­ing this role would be hitting a little too close to home for the kid. It hadn't been that long since Billy had spent time in prison, facing very similar charges for real.

  So Jake was here on the plane with Mitchell Shaw. A man he'd always thought of as a friend.

  A man who—just a few hours ago—had lined up with the rest of the team and questioned Jake's command.

  Right now, CNN was announcing a late-breaking story of conspiracy and intrigue in the U.S. military. As the story went, Admiral Jake Robinson had escaped from house ar­rest. He'd been confined to his quarters after being charged with conspiracy, allegedly leaking top-secret military in­formation to several extreme right-wing state militia groups. Those militia groups had been lobbying for fewer federal regulations, less control by the federal government. Allegedly there were tapes, and the words Jake had spoken could be interpreted as treasonous.

  The military had been attempting to keep the entire affair from the public eye, since as an Admiral in the U.S. Navy, Robinson should have been among the staunchest defenders , of the federal government. But four days ago, as the story went, Robinson had escaped his guards with the help of three unidentified men, and now the incident was national news.

  All four of the men were currently at large.

  To help this cover story along, Mitch and Jake were go­ing to be spotted in South Dakota, and Mitch was going to be apprehended while Jake once again made an escape.

  Jake was then going to proceed, by car and on foot, to Montana, leaving a trail that the CRO could trace if they tried. And they would try—particularly after he showed up on their doorstep, seeking asylum.

  Within a few days, CNN would stop carrying the story— Admiral Mac Forrest would see to that. And after several

  weeks of hiding in the CRO compound, Jake would be able to leave hiding and venture into town.

  And then he'd see Zoe again.

  Zoe. Who'd liked the way he'd kissed her.

  Mitch shifted his jaw, expertly popping his ears as the plane continued its descent.

  "Hey, Mitch," Jake said.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "No," he said, "not sir. I've got something I need to discuss, and I need you to talk to me as a friend."

  Mitch nodded, completely serene. "I'll do my best."

  "It's about—"

  "Zoe." Mitch nodded. "I figured you were going to say something. I'm sorry if I got in your way. I honestly didn't think you were interested in her—you've been avoiding her all week." He smiled slightly. "You know, Jake, I've found it's far easier to get a woman into your bed if you actually interact with her."

  "I don't want to get her into my..." He couldn't finish the sentence—it wasn't true. He exhaled noisily in exas­peration. "God, she's too young for me. How could I even be thinking about that?"

  "She doesn't think she's too young." Mitch smiled again. "I've been hanging out with her. Telling her stories about you. She's yours if you want her, Admiral. And if you don't, I'm hoping I might be next in line."

  Jake had to know. "She's beautiful and she's smart and she's very sexy, but...you've had the opportunity to meet plenty of beautiful, smart, sexy women, and as far as I've seen, you've never given any of them a second glance. So why Zoe? What is it about her?"

  Mitch gazed thoughtfully out the window at the ap­proaching runway for several long moments. "She's one of us," he said simply, turning to look at Jake. "I get the sense that she wants the things I want from a relationship— no strings, no promises, no regrets. Just good, clean, healthy fun. Sex that's just that—sex. No more, no less."

  He laughed softly. "To be painfully honest, Jake, I tend to stay away from most women because I'm afraid of hurting them when I leave. And you know in our line of work, we always leave. We disappear on some assignment, and who knows when we'll be back. But Zoe..." He laughed again. "Zoe would never expect anything long term. Because she leaves, too. And she'd probably leave first."

  The plane touched down on the runway with a jolt.

  "I know you miss Daisy," Mitch said quietly. "I know how you felt about her. But you're not dead. And Zoe might be just what you need. It won't have anything to do with what you and Daisy had. It doesn't have to go too deep."

  Jake sighed. "Just thinking about it makes me feel un­faithful."

  "To whom, Jake?" Mitch asked gently. "Daisy's gone."

  Chapter 6

  Weeknights were the worst. Weekends were no picnic, but at least on Friday and Saturday nights, Mel's was crowded and Zoe was kept busy.

  But on a Tuesday night like this one, Zoe sat at the bar with old Roy, who sat nursing a beer on the same stool every night and could have been anywhere from eighty to a hundred and eight, and Lonnie, who owned the service station on the corner of Page Street and Hicks Lane and was probably older than old Roy.

  On Tuesday nights, Hal Francke had his bowling league, so even he wasn't around, trying his damnedest to brush up against her.

  And Wayne Keating—Monica's boyfriend, the one who'd nearly overpowered Zoe—had been arrested for DUI. It was his third offense, and he was being held with­out bail. So there was no chance of him staggering into the bar and livening things up.

  No, it was just another deadly boring Tuesday night in Belle, Montana.

  Zoe was definitely going to go mad.

  Two weeks had come and gone and come and gone and here she was, well into week five in her new career as barmaid, with no sign of Jake.

  He'd gotten into the CRO compound. She knew that. She'd seen surveillance tapes of him being let inside. Even taken from a distance, she'd clearly recognized him. The way he walked, the way he stood.

  According to the team, he'd been spotted from time to time within the confines of the electric fence.

  But he hadn't come out.

  Each time a car or van left the CRO gates and headed toward town, Harvard or Lucky or Cowboy would call, and Zoe's silent pager would go off. And she would know to be ready.

  Maybe Jake would show up this time. Maybe...

  But even though Christopher Vincent himself had come into Mel's a number of times, and always with an entou­rage, Jake had been nowhere in sight.

  Zoe was completely frustrated. And getting a little wor­ried.

  Had something gone wrong? She called Harvard every night on the pretense of checking in, but in truth to find out if Jake had been spotted again during the course of the day.

  What if he'd gotten sick? Or injured? What if Vincent knew he was only there to find the Triple X? What if Jake were locked in the factory basement, beaten and bleeding and...

  Oh, dammit, and the really stupid thing was that beneath her worries and her frustration at this endless inactivity was the unavoidable fact that she missed him.

  She missed the man.

  She missed his smile, his solid presence, his calm cer­tainty, the sweet sensation of his arms around her.

  Zoe groaned, resting her forehead on the bar atop her folded arms. He'd only kissed her once, but she missed that,

  too. Holy Mike, when had she become
such a hopeless romantic? And hopeless was the key word here.

  This foolish schoolgirl crush she was experiencing was definitely one-sided.

  Yes, the man had kissed her. Once. And afterward, he'd run screaming as hard and as fast as he could in the op­posite direction. And when he kissed her again, it was go­ing to be because he had to. He'd told her as much.

  "Ya gonna do that singing thing tonight?" Lonnie leaned over and asked.

  He was talking about the karaoke. Last Friday, Hal had bought a karaoke system secondhand and very cheap from a guy going out of business over in Butte. Zoe had been the only member of the wait staff brave enough to give it a try. The songs were mostly all retro dance hits, with a bunch of old country songs thrown in.

  Zoe lifted her head to look in the mirror on the wall behind the bar. Besides Lonnie, old Roy, Gus the bartender and herself, there were only three other people in the place.

  "I don't think so," she told Lonnie. "There's not much of a crowd."

  Old Roy was already leafing through the plastic-covered pages that listed the song titles available on this karaoke system. "I love this old Patsy Cline song." He blinked at her hopefully. "Will you sing it? Please?"

  It was the same song he played over and over on the jukebox at least three times every single night. "The record sounds much better than I do," she told him. "Here, I'll even front you a quarter."

  "But we like it when you sing it." Now Lonnie was giving her his best kicked-puppy look. "I'd like to hear the other songs you did on Saturday night, too."

  Zoe sighed.

  "Please?" they said in unison.

  She should really clean the bathrooms. God, she hated cleaning the bathrooms.

  "Sure. Why not?" She went behind the bar to the stereo

  system and powered up the karaoke player. "But if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right." She untied the short apron that held her ordering pad and change. She set it down, picked up the karaoke microphone and switched it on. "Ready for this, boys?"

  Both Roy and Lonnie nodded.

  She used the remote to turn on the TV behind the bar, setting it to receive the signal from the karaoke system. She put in the right CD and programmed the machine and...