by Gail Barrett
Which didn’t make him much better than Shaw.
That thought made him grimace, but he couldn’t deny the truth. Shaw had pressured her to become a scientist. Coop had expected her to compromise her career to follow his.
Neither had thought of her.
She shut down the program and ejected the flash drive. For a moment she just sat there, the flash drive clenched in her fist. Then she pushed out her chair and stood up.
The hurt in her eyes jerked him out of his thoughts. “What is it? What happened?”
“He…” She shook her head, compressed her lips.
“Is it what you thought? Did he succeed?”
She inhaled audibly, as if pulling herself together, and the misery in her eyes tore at his heart. “I think so. I haven’t looked at all the files yet. Some are encrypted, and it’s going to take me some time to get in. But it’s not just that. There’s something else.”
“What?”
“This material isn’t his, Coop. Not all of it. He stole it.”
Shaw had stolen the work? “How do you know?”
Her voice turned raw. “Because he stole it from me.”
Zoe was still stunned when they entered their motel room minutes later. She didn’t want to believe it. Her grandfather—the man she’d respected and revered—had stolen her work. He was a thief, a fraud, a common criminal!
She sank onto the edge of the bed, numb from the discovery, and rested her head in her hands. All these years she’d admired him, following his guidance and advice—while he’d been living a lie.
Coop stopped beside the television set, put down the weapons he’d brought in from the truck, and pulled the small chair close to the bed. Then he dropped into the chair and braced his forearms on his knees. “All right. Start at the beginning and tell me what you found.”
She inhaled to marshal her thoughts. “When I was in graduate school, I had an idea. I thought I could separate the uranium isotopes in transuranic waste—a nuclear by-product—by using reverse osmosis. I thought for sure it would work. I told my grandfather about it, thinking he could help me. I even suggested a proprietary membrane we could use. But he told me it wouldn’t work, that he’d already tried something similar and failed. He convinced me to pursue something else.
“But he stole my idea. He used it as the basis of his work. He lied to me and betrayed my trust.”
Coop nodded, but a shadow darkened his eyes. “Let’s get back to that part in a minute. First off, does the process work?”
“I think so.” She dragged in another breath, feeling flayed inside but trying to focus on what mattered most. “I didn’t check all the subfiles…they’re encrypted and I didn’t have time. But if the summary he wrote is accurate, he used multiple chains of membranes—exactly how I suggested—to extract the uranium. Then he reprocessed it into weapons-grade material.”
No wonder he’d risked everything to save that research. The invention would rock the world, revolutionize technology. But the destruction it could cause in the wrong hands…
A deep feeling of foreboding pricked her nerves. And to think she’d had a part in it—however unwilling she’d been.
Coop grimaced. “I’m still a step behind you. Assuming those men chasing us are terrorists, exactly why would they want this procedure?”
“They could make nuclear bombs. Easily. They wouldn’t need expensive equipment, just a small amount of nuclear waste.”
“That can’t be easy to get.”
“No, but it’s not impossible. The dumps aren’t as well guarded as they should be. There have been warnings about that for years. And you’d be surprised how much radioactive material goes missing. It’s not publicized; they don’t want to scare the public. And usually it’s just a mistake, something innocent, like a mix-up at a lab. But it happens more than you’d think. And then there’s the foreign black market, like material coming out of the former Soviet Union. That’s a major international concern.”
“So why don’t more criminals make nuclear bombs?”
She spread her hands. “Well, obviously, you need the technology. And transporting radioactive material is dangerous. You need special protection, all sorts of safeguards to keep from getting poisoned. But…”
“But what?”
“If someone is prepared to die, like a suicide bomber, he wouldn’t worry about the protection much.”
Coop’s dark brows knitted together. “I still don’t get it. If they manage to get the waste, why bother with this procedure? Why not just spread it around in a dirty bomb?”
“Because a dirty bomb isn’t as dangerous as people think. It’s bad—don’t get me wrong. It would contaminate the area and cause deaths, and create a lot of fear, but the radiation exposure wouldn’t be that widespread.
“But this…” She couldn’t keep the dread from her voice. “This would be enormous, shocking, a nuclear bomb complete with a mushroom cloud.”
Her belly fisted tight, the enormity of it all sinking in. She touched the flash drive in her pocket, conscious of the information it contained, the terrible responsibility she now held in her hands.
“I saw something on the news earlier,” Coop said slowly. “About that new nuclear power plant in Vegas. Could they get the material from there?”
“No. They’d never get at the nuclear material directly. There are too many safeguards in place. But if they already had some material and used this bomb on the nuclear plant…”
She felt the blood leach from her face. It would be catastrophic. The worst explosion since Hiroshima and Nagasaki in World War II.
And the opening of that nuclear power plant was a high-profile event. Even the president was supposed to attend. It would grab the attention of the world.
“Dear God,” she whispered. She pressed her hand to her throat, trembling from the horror the idea evoked. “Do you think…?”
Coop rose, then paced across the small room to the door and back. Then he sat beside her on the bed. “We can’t jump to conclusions. We don’t know that they have any nuclear waste. We don’t even know who’s involved in this, whether they’re terrorists or not. All we’ve got is that guy’s photo we took in the ghost town. And whoever kidnapped Shaw can’t have the formula yet if it’s on that flash drive. So as far as we know, they can’t do anything bad.”
Unless her grandfather had been tortured, made to replicate his work. But then why were armed men pursuing her?
She shook her head and tried to think through the burgeoning fear. “I can’t let anyone get this. I don’t care if it’s government property or not. It’s too dangerous. The world doesn’t need a way to make weapons like this.” Especially terrorists.
But if she didn’t pay the ransom, her grandfather would die.
She swallowed and tried to think. She didn’t want to help her grandfather. He’d stolen her ideas and destroyed her trust. But he still didn’t deserve to lose his life.
So what on earth should she do?
“How much time do we have?” Coop asked.
“Not much.” She glanced at her watch. “Nine hours.”
“Where’s the rendezvous point?”
She hesitated, but his gaze didn’t waver from hers. “The truth, Zoe.”
She sighed. There was no point hiding it now. “The Mesquite Wildlife Preserve at midnight. At the old ranch house.”
He nodded. “Then here’s what we’ll do. We’ll rest for an hour and let this sink in. Then we’ll decide on a plan.”
“But—”
“You’re dead on your feet, Zoe. You’re not going to help your grandfather if you collapse.”
Coop was right. She was too exhausted to think straight, and she had no idea what to do. Her grandfather had told her not to trust anyone—not the Navy, not the police or FBI. But he’d led a secret life, stolen her work. And now she couldn’t trust him.
She kneaded the ache throbbing between her brows, struggled to put those thoughts aside. But her mind kept spinning
around, more doubts tumbling through. “I never would have believed it before, but if he stole my work…What else did he do? Is he a traitor? Did he set up my parents, too?”
Had he killed his own child?
“You don’t know that,” Coop said quietly. He picked up her hand, threaded his fingers through hers.
“You’re right.” She exhaled, tried to calm down. She didn’t have any facts right now and shouldn’t imagine the worst. She squeezed Coop’s hand, reassured by his warmth and strength.
But this revelation undermined her foundations, threatened everything she’d once believed—even who she was. She lifted her gaze to Coop’s, giving voice to the fear. “But what if he is a traitor? What does that make me?”
Coop angled around to face her, tipped up her chin with his free hand. “It makes you the same loyal person you’ve always been.”
Her heart softened. She managed a shaky smile, grateful he understood, glad she could trust him with this—and that he had agreed to help her after the damage her grandfather had done.
And she could no longer deny the truth. It was too obvious. Coop never would have dumped her, no matter what her parents had done, no matter how their actions affected his career. He would have stood by her, just as he supported her now.
“Coop…I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice uneven. “I never should have doubted you.”
He shifted his gaze away. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.” Because by trusting the wrong man she’d lost something real, something precious, something she could never regain.
Coop’s love.
An unbearable ache lodged inside her, a yearning for all that she’d lost. Her throat burned with emotions—regret, sorrow, remorse.
She blinked, struggling to control the gut-wrenching feelings, the fierce need swelling inside. Turning, she met his gaze, letting him see her desire.
His eyes darkened. His face went taut. “You’re tired. We both are. We need to rest.”
“I need you,” she whispered. She reached out, did what she’d craved to do all day. She ran her finger along his jaw line, smooth now from his recent shave, and traced the beard shadow under his skin. Then she curved her hand around his strong neck and tugged his face down to hers.
“Kiss me, Coop.”
He rested his forehead against hers, their mouths nearly touching, his warm breath grazing her lips. “Damn it, Zoe.” His voice came out rough. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
“The right thing?” She let out a laugh. “I have no idea what that is anymore.” Her life had been blasted apart, her security destroyed, everything she’d believed turned into a lie.
“All I know is what I want now.” Comfort, oblivion. A chance to recapture what she’d thrown away, if only for this moment in time.
“You,” she whispered. “I want you, Coop.”
He swore, groaned in surrender, and she abandoned herself to the bliss.
Chapter 10
Never had anything so wrong felt so right.
Coop gave in to the kiss, his senses filled with Zoe’s sweet scent, savoring the hot, moist silk of her mouth. He knew it was wrong to touch her. They were in danger. She was vulnerable right now. She deserved a better man than him.
But nothing had felt this good in years—the soft, sleek lure of her lips, the seductive velvet of her skin. He was lost, falling in deeper, riveted by her mouth, her taste, her feel.
Hunger pounded inside him, a sudden urgency he couldn’t ignore. Zoe had always had this effect on him—instant, dizzying, electric. The instant he’d seen her—her blue eyes sparkling, that sex-goddess mole winking—he’d longed to strip off her conservative clothes, bare the erotic seductress beneath, and discover just how hot she burned.
His body tightened. His racing heart doubled its beat. Then Zoe speared her hands in his hair, making tiny moans at the back of her throat, erasing every thought from his head.
Except one—Zoe naked. Under him. Right now. He wanted to rip off her clothes, surrender to the reckless craving, take her hard and fast and deep.
But he had to slow down, make this good. A quick, torrid coupling would never be enough with Zoe. He wanted to make her eyes grow blurry and dazed. Make her hunger and tremble with want. Drive her past desire into desperation, making her need for him so urgent that she’d shake with it, cry for it, beg for him to make her his.
She made another helpless sound, digging her fingers into his shoulders, sending a jolt of heat through his veins. But he gentled the kiss, rained kisses down her jaw to the creamy skin of her throat.
Her pulse rioted beneath his mouth. Her ragged breath feathered his ear. She smelled like sin, tasted like every fantasy he’d ever had. He stroked his hands down her spine, palmed the curving flare of her hips, already losing control.
She had the most beautiful body he’d ever seen—long, slender legs, full, lush breasts. And he liked that she didn’t flaunt it, that she disguised her explosive sexuality behind a modest facade. The demure clothes only heightened his anticipation, challenging him to imagine the woman beneath.
She let her head fall back with a moan, and relentless need hammered his blood. He laved the curve of her throat, plundered her mouth in a ravenous kiss, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He wrenched himself away, tugged her T-shirt over her head, dropped his gaze to the modest bra molding her breasts.
His breath turned hoarse and fast. His blood rushed straight to his groin. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze, and he ran his finger along the vee of her cleavage, tracing the tempting valleys and curves.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Her body quivered under his touch, her lips parting on a breathless moan. And then he lowered his head, kissed her breasts through the fabric of her bra, worshiping her with his hands and lips and tongue.
She gripped his hair, holding him close, and hunger slammed through his veins. Veering beyond control, trembling with the need to feel her, he dropped back onto the bed. Then he pulled her atop him, pressing her hips to where he burned the most.
Tremors skipped inside him. He tightened his grip, keeping her locked in place, rocking instinctively against her heat. She leaned forward, and her hair fluttered around them, sheltering them like a curtain of silk. And his world narrowed to this one woman, this one moment in time.
Zoe. Brilliant. Loyal. Exciting.
Her lips were swollen and lush, her eyes limpid and dark, and his pulse pounded faster yet. Her thighs cupped his rigid length, detonating a firestorm of need in his blood, too urgent, too strong to resist.
He shuddered, his hands roaming her back, her waist, the round, ripe swells of her breasts. He wanted to forget going slowly, just strip off her remaining clothes and plunge into her blissful warmth, reliving the tight, pulsing feel he’d remembered all these years.
He tugged down her head, capturing her lips in a deep, scorching kiss that razed all rational thought. And then he rolled over, taking her with him, managing to insert a sliver of space. “Lose the bra.”
He peeled off his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers, then shed the rest of his clothes. Zoe pulled off her bra and shorts, made short work of her modest panties, and stretched out against the bedspread again.
His gaze slowly, relentlessly inched over the length of her, memorizing the shadows between her breasts, the pale, creamy skin of her thighs, the enticing dip of her waist. And she watched him back, her eyes turning even darker, blazing a trail of heat in their wake.
His hands trembled. His nostrils flared, his blood a battering ram in his skull. “I’ve had a hard time keeping my hands off you,” he admitted, his voice husky.
Her lips parted. More heat flashed in her eyes. “I don’t want them off me.”
Her words blasted through his nerves like a gunshot, propelling him to act. He climbed back on the bed, careful not to bump her tender ankle, and lowered his body to hers.
And then he kissed her again, his blood turning thick and hot, the pulse
in his groin driving him mad. And she responded to him like tinder in a brushfire, her movements greedy, instinctive, feverish as she strained and writhed for his touch.
After an eternity, he lifted his head. He bracketed her face with his hands, met her dazed eyes. And he saw more than desire, more than need in those sapphire depths. He saw acceptance, approval, trust.
Warmth curled around his heart, like a candle flickering at ice. And he realized with sudden insight that it wasn’t only Zoe’s beauty that had attracted him to her so many years ago. It wasn’t just her intelligence, her humor, or the amusing way she’d met his audacious dares.
It was the admiring way she’d watched him—as if he hadn’t come from trash, as if he’d deserved a woman like her. As if he were worthy, noble, good.
He fingered a strand of her hair, the storm of emotions charging through him catching him off guard. Women had always desired him; he’d known that from an early age. They’d wanted a thrilling ride, sex with a man who was a little too rough, a chance to escape their sheltered lives. And he’d been happy to oblige.
But Zoe had been different from the start. She’d seen him, the man inside. She’d seen his dreams, his soul, all that he could be.
Small wonder that he’d fallen in love with her back then—or that he couldn’t resist her now.
He brushed his thumb over her full bottom lip, his chest constricted with yearnings, his throat closing around a stab of guilt. She was wrong to admire him. He didn’t deserve her trust.
And he couldn’t give her what she needed forever—only the release that she craved right now.
He slanted his mouth over hers, and she yielded, burning him with her fiery heat. Their kisses turned deeper, longer, far more urgent. Her soft hands roved his body, spiking his hunger higher yet.
Their mouths still fused, he moved his hand down her belly to the sweet, hot flesh he’d ached to touch. She bucked at the intimate contact, the scent of her arousal a balm to his soul. She was wet, swollen, trembling for him, and he groaned against her mouth.
And then his patience snapped. He broke off the kiss, rose to his knees above her. The provocative sight ravaged what was left of his control.