Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

  "Going somewhere?" he asked. He tried to keep his voice and his smile pleasant, but he knew they were both a little too tight.

  She met his gaze and didn't try to pretend either one of them didn't know exactly what was going on. "It's time, Jake."

  "What if I say no, it's not time? What if I tell you no, you're not getting inside the CRO fort? Is that when you blatantly defy me—and sign on to be the fourth Mrs. Vin­cent?"

  He was furious with her, but his anger wasn't entirely because she was attempting to override his authority. He was mad as hell that she could consider sex to be so insig­nificant, that she could hold her own self in such low es­teem. He was livid at the idea of her giving herself to Chris­topher Vincent. Her motivation might be selfless, but dammit, it was wrong.

  And it drove home the fact that she was willing to be with Jake, too, for the same wrong reasons.

  And in a flash of insight that was a little too glaringly clear, Jake knew that he didn't want Zoe to want him, too— in addition to her desire to make this mission a success. He wanted Zoe to want him, period. In spite of the mission. Outside of the mission.

  The way he wanted her.

  She didn't blink. "You know that I'd prefer doing it this way. Going in there with you."

  He let himself glare at her, let his words crackle with his displeasure. "Yeah, and I'd prefer doing it my way. I am the team leader, or have you forgotten?"

  Zoe flinched at his high volume, but then lifted her chin in that way she had that could infuriate him and make him admire her, all at once. ' 'Are you the team leader, Admiral? If so, why are you letting Jake the protective man interfere with what's best for this op? The plan was to get me inside that factory so I could help you find that Trip X. It was a good plan—until you stopped thinking like an admiral. You promised me that as far as my safety and comfort went, you'd let me draw the line. We had a deal—until you turned around and reneged."

  "You want me to let you draw the line?" Jake couldn't believe it. "Where's your line, Zoe? As far as I can tell, it doesn't exist. You're not drawing any line at all, if you're willing to marry Christopher Vincent to get inside the CRO fence!"

  Chapter 9

  Jake was beyond upset.

  For the first time since Zoe had met him, he didn't have a smile ready to pull out to help diffuse or relax the situ­ation.

  His eyes were cold and as hard as blue steel, and he looked at her as if she were a stranger, as if he didn't recognize her.

  Zoe didn't know what to tell him. She opted for the truth. "I wouldn't really have married Christopher Vincent," she admitted. *'I just thought... I don't know. Maybe it would give you the incentive you needed to get me in there this other...this safer way."

  He clearly didn't believe her. Why should he? She'd worked hard to make him think she was tough and ruthless. "Things weren't progressing at a speed that satisfied you, so you decided to resort to emotional blackmail, is that what you're saying?"

  She couldn't deny it, but she could try to justify it. "I'm the expert, Jake. I should be in there."

  His eyes were as cold and as empty as the darkness of outer space, his voice flat. "I should send you home."

  Her chin went up. "You could do that, Admiral, but you couldn't stop me from going to Pat Sullivan and getting reassigned right back here."

  "And then you'd use the fact that Christopher Vincent wants to sleep with you to get through the CRO gates, right?" He laughed, but there wasn't any humor in it. "Funny, I thought I heard you just say you wouldn't do that."

  Zoe felt like crying. She'd worked overtime to make Jake believe that she was blase about sex. She'd pretended so hard that it was no big deal. She was not demure, she was not shy. She could use her looks and her body as just an­other tool of her trade.

  She'd started out wanting to shock him, wanting to shake him up and, yes, wanting to impress him. She was a modern woman, a Gen X-er. She might be young, she might be a woman, but she was an expert in dealing with weapons of mass destruction, an authority in a field that was more frightening than the most terrifying horror movie. Yet de­spite that, she had the ability to remain detached and in control while sheer chaos raged around her. She was cool, she was tough, she could get the job done—see, look? She could remain as emotionally unattached as James Bond when it came to matters of the heart. That proved she had what it took to be good at her job, didn't it?

  She was good at her job.

  But none of the rest of it was true.

  Except now he believed it was. And he was not im­pressed.

  She'd painted herself into this unfortunate corner, there was no doubt about it.

  Jake sat tiredly on the built-in sofa. "You know what the really stupid thing is, Zoe?"

  She was. She was the stupid thing.

  "I came into town tonight to tell you that we're out of

  -time." Jake looked at her and gave her a crooked smile. "I came to find out if you still wanted to marry your way into the CRO compound."

  Zoe sat across from him, suddenly sharply focused. "Out of time? How?"

  "I found out when Christopher's planning to use the Tri­ple X," Jake told her. "He's celebrating his fiftieth birth­day in three weeks. He and his lieutenants have been talk­ing about the big party they're having in New York City. How the big party's going to get covered by CNN. I figure we've only got about a week and a half before they'll try to move the T-X. We need to find it before then, for ob­vious reasons."

  The CRO could carry it out of state in plastic baggies, in small amounts. And then the team would have a hell of a time tracking it down. They could recover most of the Triple X and thousands of people could still die.

  They had to find it. Now.

  "Yes," Zoe said. "Yes, I'll marry you."

  Someone had found Zoe a white dress.

  It wasn't a wedding dress, but with her hair up, she looked angelic.

  Jake stood in the front of Mel's Bar, watching as she proceeded toward him, down an aisle they'd made by mov­ing the tables and chairs. He didn't know the name of the song that was playing on the jukebox, but the melody was haunting.

  Zoe was so beautiful, his throat ached.

  But this wasn't real. None of this was real.

  The CRO didn't believe in marriage licenses. They op­posed state intervention in something as personal as mar­riage. And thus, according to their rules, Jake could propose marriage at 8:37 p.m. and be watching his bride walking down the aisle toward him by eleven that same night.

  Beside him, Christopher Vincent cleared his throat. He smiled as Jake glanced at him. Jake smiled back. And felt

  a small surge of triumph. There was a lot that was really, really wrong about this mock wedding ceremony, but at least Jake knew one good thing that would come of it. After tonight, Christopher Vincent would have no chance of get­ting his hands on Zoe.

  He could see apprehension in her eyes as she got closer. Her smile was tentative, and he knew he hadn't completely managed to hide his sense of dread.

  Jake didn't want to marry her. He didn't want to pretend to marry her. And he really didn't want to bring her back to his bedroom at the CRO compound. It was hard enough resisting her here, in a public bar. How was he going to handle sharing quarters with her?

  Somehow, he was going to do it. He was going to pre­tend to make love to her, and he was going to sleep in the same bed with her night after night. If anything could cool his body's eager response to her nearness, it would be those three security cameras positioned around his room.

  Zoe handed the flowers she carried to Carol and took his hand. Her fingers were cold. Her dress was lovely, with no sleeves and a sweeping low neckline that exposed the tops of her full breasts, but it was a summer dress, and fall was cold and crisp and far more suited to turtlenecks here in Belle, Montana.

  He took both of her hands in his, trying to warm them. She was wearing perfume—just the slightest, subtlest scent.

  "Kneel," Christopher Vincent comman
ded.

  Jake helped Zoe down onto the floor, then prepared to join her. But Chris stopped him.

  "Just Zoe," he said.

  She looked up at them, frowning slightly. "Just me?"

  "You have to show the proper respect to your husband and to the other men of the CRO," Christopher told her. "On your knees, head down, eyes averted."

  This was it, Jake thought. This was where Zoe would stand up and laugh in Christopher's face.

  But she didn't. She stayed there on the floor, and she

  bowed her head. And he knew again how high she thought these stakes were. If she would do this, she would do any­thing to find that missing T-X.

  Anything.

  The thought made his stomach hurt.

  The ceremony was short, filled with words like "obey" and "submit," "abide by" and "yield-" It was a step back toward the Dark Ages for women everywhere.

  Yet throughout it all, Zoe murmured her acquiescence.

  It was nothing like his wedding to Daisy, and yet Jake found himself hesitating as he reached down to take Zoe's hand. It was time to slip a plain gold ring on her finger, but the depth and meaning of the powerful symbolism was tarnished by the loss of equality. The ring seemed far more imprisoning as she knelt slightly behind him, as he tagged her as if she were some kind of pet or possession.

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed the ring onto her finger. If she could kneel and bow her head, he could do this.

  There was no ring for his finger—he was grateful at least for that.

  Finally, at last, Zoe was allowed to rise.

  It was time to kiss the bride.

  She looked at him then, and there were tears in her eyes. And he knew that as hard as this had been for him, it had been a million times harder for Zoe—Zoe, who'd probably never knelt for anyone before in her entire life.

  He kissed her softly, gently, trying to reassure himself as well as her that none of this was real.

  She clung to him then, and he closed his eyes and held her close. Wishing...what? He didn't even know.

  "I'm sorry," she breathed into his ear, barely loud enough for him to hear. "I'm so sorry, Jake. I know how hard this must be for you."

  He pulled back to look at her in surprise as he realized that the tears in her eyes were for him.

  The crowd in the bar was applauding. Carol and her

  friend Monica threw rice. And Jake stood there watching a tear escape from Zoe's eyes and slide down her cheek.

  And he couldn't help himself.

  He kissed her.

  Not because he had to.

  But because he wanted to.

  Her lips were so soft, and she tasted impossibly sweet. How could someone as tough and strong as Zoe taste that sweet?

  He gently coaxed her mouth open, taking his time, kiss­ing her slowly, completely, deeply. Very, very deeply.

  Time ground to a halt and the noise in the room faded to a dull roar. Nothing mattered, nothing existed but the woman in his arms.

  He wanted to kiss her forever. He wanted this moment to go on and on, endlessly.

  He felt her melt against him, felt heat pool in the pit of his stomach, felt his knees grow weak.

  God, if a single kiss could be this good...

  He pulled back, breathing hard.

  Zoe's eyes were wide as she looked at him.

  And then Chris and some of the other men from the CRO were slapping him on the back, shaking his hand, buying him a drink.

  He looked at Zoe, surrounded now by Carol and Monica, old Roy and Lonnie, and she was still gazing at him, a question in her eyes.

  He nodded. Yes. But she still didn't get it. Or maybe she didn't believe him.

  "That was me kissing you," he told her silently, know­ing she could read his lips.

  She smiled, but her eyes welled with fresh tears. And this time he wasn't surprised.

  Chapter 10

  It was definitely weird.

  Walking into the CRO fort was like walking onto the set of her favorite television show.

  Zoe had seen it, in complete detail, on the surveillance video screens many times before.

  She'd studied the entire former factory while in the team trailer. She knew the layout nearly as well as Bobby Taylor now.

  She could find the main kitchen in a blackout with her eyes closed if she had to. She knew where all the cameras and microphones were located in the compound yard. She knew the shortest route to Jake's quarters from any given point in the place.

  But she hung back, letting Jake lead the way.

  She would have to remember to let him walk several paces in front of her. A CRO rule.

  He'd left his room unlocked—apparently everyone did. He opened the door, holding it politely, the way her father might have done for her mother, to let her go in first.

  She knew this room well, too. The colors were slightly different than they'd appeared on the video monitors, though, the red-orange of the shag carpeting a little more brassy, the paneling a little more nicked and worn.

  She looked into the mirror, wondering who was watching them right now. Were Bobby and Wes pulling a shift? Or Harvard? Or was it Luke O'Donlon? The entire team knew that everything said and done in this room was purely for the benefit of the cameras. They knew that nothing was real, but still...

  She turned to face Jake. "Well. This is.... At least it's nicer than my trailer."

  Jake set her bags down on the long, low dresser top. He forced a smile. "It'll do for now."

  Holy Mike, could they sound any more uptight? They were supposed to be newlyweds, on their wedding night. They'd both been pretending they were eager to get back here, that they were hot to be alone, but now what?

  Jake had definitely been right—this was not going to be any fun. Not while knowing three cameras and God knows how many people would be watching them.

  He came toward her, slipping off the jacket he'd put over her shoulders during the ride to the factory. He carefully hung it on the back of a chair, then smiled at her again.

  "Mind if I...?" He reached for her hairpins, starting to take them out without really waiting for her reply.

  "No, I don't mind." She helped him, and her hair tum­bled around her shoulders.

  "I love your hair," he said.

  Zoe closed her eyes as Jake ran his fingers through it.

  "It's so soft," he murmured. "Like a baby's."

  He was touching more than her hair, touching her neck, her throat, her shoulders, her arms.

  She opened her eyes, and the sight of herself in the mir­ror caught her off guard. She looked completely enthralled, her eyes half closed, her lips slightly parted, each breath she took making her breasts press even farther out of this

  two-sizes-too-small dress Carol had pulled out of the back of her daughter's closet.

  "Are you cold?" Jake whispered, his hands warm against her arms.

  "No, I'm—"

  "Yes, you are," he said, silently ordering her to agree. "Your arms feel a little cold."

  What was he doing? "I am," she said. "A little."

  He kissed her jaw, her throat, the tops of her breasts. The sensation nearly made her burst into flames. Cold was the complete last thing that she was.

  "Why don't you climb into bed—under the covers?" He smiled. "We'll see what we can do to get you warmed up."

  Ah. That was what he was doing. Once they were be­neath the covers, no one would be able to tell if they were making love or simply trying on each other's underwear. Especially if they turned off the lights.

  Zoe turned her back to him. "Will you unzip me?"

  He hesitated slightly, and she knew that he'd been hop­ing she'd just keep the dress on. But that would seem odd— too odd. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Please?"

  He touched her then, fumbling slightly with the tiny zip­per pull. She felt his fingers trail down the entire expanse of her back as she held the dress on in front.

  He kissed her neck, his voice suddenly husky.
"I'll be right out."

  Jake turned out one of the lights as he went into the attached bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  God, his heart was pounding. Without a doubt, this was going to be the longest night of his life. He washed his hands, stalling, trying to get his heart rate down to near normal, splashed water onto his face.

  But when he closed his eyes, he could see only Zoe's smooth, bare back. All that perfect skin beneath his fingers.

  She wasn't wearing a bra.

  He laughed aloud.

  He was going to have to climb into that bed with her

  and pretend to make love to her—oh, and while he did that, she would be half-naked in his arms.

  He gazed at his dripping wet face in the bathroom mirror.

  Maybe he could keep his clothes on.

  Yeah, right. That would look very unsuspicious. After he'd been drooling after her for weeks, he's suddenly Mr Shy?

  God, maybe he should just give up and make love to her.

  Jake looked hard into his own eyes, recognizing the truth, recognizing that that was what he really, really wanted to­night. Sex purely for the sake of sex. No strings. No re­sponsibilities. Just Zoe's legs locked around him as he lost himself inside of her.

  As he lost himself.

  Lost. Himself.

  And he would lose himself. He'd wake up in the morn­ing, and everything he valued most would be gone. His integrity. His honor. His profound sense of what was good and right.

  And how would he be able to look himself in this mirror then?

  He wasn't ready for that. Not now. God, maybe not ever.

  Jake took off his shirt, stepped out of his shoes and his pants and turned on the shower.

  He knew what he had to do.

  But he wasn't done stalling.

  Zoe heard the shower go off as she lay in the dark, wait­ing for Jake.

  She heard the rattle of the shower curtain .being pulled back, and then silence.

  God, her heart was pounding.

  She waited and...

  The bathroom door finally opened, flooding the room with light. And there was Jake, a dark silhouette with broad shoulders, a towel slung casually around his waist.