Mitch was completely focused on cleaning her arm. “If you can’t handle cold, don’t become a SEAL.”
“A major portion of Hell Week—the fifth week of SEAL training—is spent freezing your butt off,” Jake told her. “You get wet early on and stay wet for the entire week.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that.” Zoe closed her eyes. Damn, whatever Mitch was doing hurt like hell. “I read in some magazine article about Hell Week that you guys pee on yourselves to stay warm while you’re in the water.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jake snorted. “That’s what reporters find important. That we pee on ourselves. Forget about the hours and hours of training we go through, the endurance tests, the underwater demolition, the HALO training. That’s not half as interesting as peeing on ourselves. Jeez.”
Zoe sensed more than felt Jake sit down beside her. But she opened her eyes when he took her other hand.
“Squeeze,” he told her. “And keep your eyes open. If you close your eyes and shut everything else out, it’s just you and the pain. And that’s never good.”
“I’m really sorry,” Mitch murmured. “You must’ve landed on this arm pretty hard to get this stuff embedded so deeply.”
Zoe took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. Jake’s eyes were so blue and so steady. She held his gaze as if it were a lifeline.
“What happened at this party?” he asked. “Keep talking.”
“I arrived a little after noon,” she told him, gripping his hand more tightly and biting back the urge to shriek as Mitch probed particularly deeply. “Everyone was drinking pretty hard. Mostly just beer. But about five people went into the house, and when they came out, it was pretty obvious they’d done a few lines of cocaine. Hal Francke was one of them. This other guy, Wayne, Monica’s boyfriend—God, what a jerk! He’s one of those former high-school football-star types—he used to be big man on campus, but now he’s just big and fat and mean. He went inside, too. A few different times.”
She squeezed Jake’s hand harder. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow!”
And just like that, the pain let up.
“Got it.” Mitch was done. He was perspiring nearly as much as she was, his eyes filled with apology and an echo of her pain.
“I just have to put some antibacterial ointment on it and bandage it up. The other one looks clean.”
Zoe tried to hide that she was shaking. “Well, that was fun. Thanks so much.”
“So how’d this happen?” Jake asked. She had to give him credit. He was obviously trying really hard not to look as if he wanted to go out and hunt down Monica’s boyfriend, Wayne.
The stupid thing was, she liked it. She liked the idea of this man being her hero. God knows there was a point this afternoon where she would have been plenty thrilled to see Jake parachuting down from the sky, coming to save the day.
She wasn’t used to working in a team, like the SEALs. In her job, she often had herself, and only herself, to rely on.
She gently pulled her hand free from his grasp. “I went further out in the back of the yard,” she told him as Mitch bandaged her arm, “looking for Monica. There was a path that led down to a stream, and some of the party had moved in that direction. I was getting ready to leave—I wanted to tell her I was taking off. But she must’ve been inside the house—everyone else who’d gone down to the stream was gone, too. Except for Wayne, who’d followed me. Like I said, he was on something nasty, and he got a little rough.” It was an understatement, and she could tell from his eyes that he knew it. “But it was no big deal,” she continued. “I handled it, I handled him.”
She was stretching the truth pretty thin there. Because it had been a big deal. Zoe could still feel the man’s hands on her breasts, still smell the alcohol on his putrid breath. He’d been a behemoth of a man, and when he’d tackled her, when the weight of his body had crushed her against the grass and gravel, for one awful moment she’d been afraid he’d actually be able to overpower her.
It was an awful feeling, that helplessness.
But he was stoned and stupid, and she’d used her brain and her ability to aim with a solid knee kick and she’d gotten away.
Hal Francke had been with a group of men by the pool, and they, too, had had far too much to drink. Zoe had picked up her towel and her bag, extremely shaken and ready to leave without even saying goodbye to the hostess, when one of the men grabbed her and tossed her into the pool.
Hal had jumped in after her, rescuing her even though she damn well hadn’t wanted or needed it. He’d put his hands all over her as he pulled her to the side of the pool. It had taken every ounce of restraint she had not to kick him in the family jewels, as well.
The water had been freezing. Her towel and clothes had been soaked.
Hal had thought that was funny as hell. He’d invited her to dinner, invited her to stay at his fishing cabin for the rest of the weekend, subtly insinuated that he’d all but pay her to have sex with him. She’d told him she’d consider the waitressing job, thanks, but that she’d have to get back to him.
And then, elbows stinging and dripping wet, Zoe had gotten the hell out of there.
“It was no big deal,” she said again. She was lying.
And Jake knew she was lying. But he didn’t press her for more details.
“As far as what the locals think about the CRO—” she continued with her report “—most of the people at the party don’t know anything about them. All they know is the old Frosty Cakes factory’s finally been sold, and that the people who bought it mostly keep to themselves. They wish it had been bought by someone wanting to get back into production—they’d hoped for more jobs in this area. They know about the electric fence around the compound, but not much about the rest of Vincent’s high-tech security system. And that’s about it.”
“That’s it for me, too,” Mitch said, finishing bandaging her arm. He held on to her hand several moments longer than he had to. “Again, I’m sorry I hurt you, Zoe.”
“It’s all right.” She smiled at him. “I forgive you.”
Mitch’s eyes were warm as he packed up his medical kit. “Good.”
Jake cleared his throat.
Mitch stood up. “If you don’t need me any further, Admiral…”
“Thanks, Mitch. I’ll be along in just a minute.”
Zoe watched the lieutenant let himself out, then glanced at Jake, wondering what he could possibly have to say to her that needed privacy. Why lose the chaperone now?
“Are you really okay?” he asked. He touched her with just one finger beneath her chin, turning her head so that she was forced to meet his eyes.
Silently, she nodded.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not being completely honest?” he asked. “Look, let’s make a deal. Right now. You don’t lie to me, and I won’t try to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. I won’t make judgments about what might be too dangerous for you because you’re a woman. But in return, you have to be brutally honest with me. You have to be able to pull your own plug, to pull yourself off some assignment that might get too uncomfortable for you for any assortment of reasons. Does that sound fair?”
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.
“Sky
diving, 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’ll 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 he 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.
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