The Admiral's Bride

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Chapter 15

  Zoe’s heart broke into a thousand pieces as she stood in the doorway that led to the recreation deck, watching Jake as he sat alone in the cold morning air.

  His back was against the concrete wall, his knees up and his head down on his folded arms.

  It was entirely possible that he was crying.

  Zoe had woken up this morning alone in their bed. It had been barely oh-six-hundred, and Jake was already gone.

  She’d washed quickly, shutting her mind to the memories of all that she and Jake had done in that very shower just hours earlier. But after she’d dressed, Jake still hadn’t returned.

  She didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know where he’d gone. And even though she wasn’t supposed to walk the halls of the former Frosty Cakes factory alone, she slipped out of their room and headed for the recreation deck.

  “So are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come out here and talk to me?” Jake lifted his head to look at her.

  How had he known she was here? She hadn’t made a single sound as she’d approached. And she was positive that when her heart had broken, it had broken silently.

  She moved toward him slowly, warily, certain that she didn’t want to see evidence of tears on his face. But his eyes were dry, and he managed to smile.

  Zoe sat next to him, careful not to sit too close. “Are you all right?”

  This morning he could meet her gaze. His eyes looked tired. “I expected to feel really bad.” He didn’t try to pretend her question applied to anything else. “I thought I’d feel, you know, as if I’d cheated on Daisy.” He shook his head. “But I don’t. I feel…”

  He reached down and took her hand, lacing her fingers with his, squeezing her hand. Zoe just waited, praying he’d tell her how he felt. Praying he’d say the words she was dying to hear. It was ridiculous, really. In just a matter of seconds, she’d gone from brokenhearted to wildly hopeful. Holy Mike, if love could make a levelheaded person experience emotional shifts more often associated with mental illnesses, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in love.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t something she could shut off.

  She’d tried that this morning, too. It wasn’t going to happen.

  “I feel alive,” Jake told her. “For the first time in years, I…honestly feel alive. It’s…” He squinted at the overcast sky before glancing at her and smiling crookedly. “It’s actually a little scary.”

  Alive. Alive was good.

  Wasn’t it?

  “You’re amazing, you know,” Jake told her. He put his arm around her, pulling her close. “Last night was…amazing.” He kissed her, and Zoe’s hope grew about a mile and a half high, like that magic bean stalk in that fairy tale. “You’re exactly what I needed.” He kissed her again, longer this time, his fingers lightly tracing her collarbone at the open neckline of her shirt. “Exactly.”

  Zoe closed her eyes, dizzy from everything she was feeling. Desire—always desire, whenever Jake was concerned. He was, and would always be, the most desirable man in the world to her. Need, hope, she felt that, too, and pleasure—such sweet pleasure from his kisses and his touch.

  Love. Oh, God, as terrifying as it was, she wanted him to love her, too. Just a little bit. She wouldn’t need much to be satisfied—maybe just a tenth of the amount he’d given to Daisy….

  He kissed her again, and she shifted closer to him, moving his hand so it covered her breast.

  He sighed and laughed. “I guess it wasn’t hard for you to figure out what I like, huh?”

  Zoe kissed him, pushing herself more fully into his hand. “I’m glad I’ve got what you like.”

  “I like everything about you, Zoe,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Not just your body.”

  Like. Not love. Still, his words were sweet.

  “We’re in tune,” he told her, “you and me. I can be completely honest with you—about everything. You know as well as I do how important this mission is. You know exactly what the dangers and the risks are. I don’t have to hold things back to keep you from being upset.” He paused. “And I don’t have to worry about hurting you when this op is over and we go our separate ways.”

  Oh, God. Zoe closed her eyes as she leaned against him. Now she was the one afraid to let him look into her eyes.

  “Maybe that’s why I’m so okay about this,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair. “I know you’re not looking for anything permanent. I know you don’t want anything more than sex—I mean, friendship, sure, but…What we did last night was intensely powerful, but…it was mostly physical. I mean…” He laughed. “You don’t want to marry me, right?”

  He didn’t let her answer. She wasn’t sure she could have answered. “But that’s okay,” he continued. “It’s okay with me, and it’s okay with you. And, see, that’s what I think makes this work. I know that you know that I can’t give you my heart.”

  Jake’s heart.

  In just a short amount of time, it had become the one thing in the world Zoe wanted more than anything. She wanted to walk out of the CRO compound in possession of the six missing canisters of Triple X, and Jake’s heart.

  Jake kissed her, and she sat there, with his arms around her, watching the first few flakes of snow drift from the overcast sky, praying he wouldn’t see the truth when he looked into her eyes.

  He was wrong.

  Somehow she’d broken all of her rules. Somehow she’d let herself cross that line. She was crazy in love with him.

  And she wanted his heart.

  Desperately.

  “He’s not getting it done,” Lucky said. “We’re almost out of time.”

  Harvard was giving him that stone-cold look that implied not only was Lucky a kindergartener, but he was a misbehaving kindergartener. “What do you suggest we do, Lieutenant? Mutiny?”

  “No.” Lucky took a deep breath. “Look. I just think it’s been long enough. Let’s try to get at least a few more men inside.” He swore. “What we should do is get the entire team inside.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Harvard said. “Because even with my blond wig, my complexion is a little too far from fair.”

  “So let’s get in whoever we can get in. Me and Cowboy. Wes. We can give him one of those skinhead haircuts—”

  “Notice how he doesn’t volunteer to shave his own head,” Wes said.

  Lucky was completely exasperated. “Dammit, what difference does it make?”

  “If it didn’t make a difference, you’d’ve volunteered to shave your own—”

  “Fine, I’ll shave my damn head! Let’s just get the hell in there! I’m so damn tired of sitting here doing nothing!”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Lucky realized that the problem here wasn’t necessarily with Admiral Robinson. The problem was his.

  He swore again. And then he apologized. To all of them. Especially Wes Skelly and the senior chief. “I’ve got a little sister in San Diego. Ellen. She’s still in college.” He rubbed his forehead. God, his sinuses were killing him. “I keep thinking San Diego would be the perfect city for these clowns to test the Trip X, and it’s making me crazy.”

  “I’ve got a little sister, too,” Wes said.

  “Yeah, I know that it’s no excuse,” Lucky said quietly. “We’ve all got family. I just…No offense, Crash, I know you’re tight with the man, but admirals should stay behind desks.”

  “Even admirals who used to be SEALs who specialized in demolition?” Crash spoke so rarely that when he did open his mouth, the entire team paid attention. “Even admirals who became so proficient with C-4 explosives that they literally wrote the book we all trained from—as well as the book that might be just a little too advanced for a few of us here?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Harvard admitted. “How come I didn’t know that?”

  “You wouldn’t. As the leader of the Gray Group, Jake’s worked hard to keep a low profile,” Crash said. “Tha
t’s why that book by Scooter Jennings irks him so much. I know some of you have read it.”

  “I have,” Bobby said in his basso profundo. “It’s good stuff.”

  Cowboy lifted the book out of his lap, flashing a sheepish grin. No wonder he’d been so quiet during all this. He was reading, and he was just a few pages from the end. “This reads better than fiction.”

  “I’m reading it after Junior,” Harvard said.

  “It’s all true, you know,” Crash said. “And it chronicles just one of Jake’s tours in Vietnam. He’s seen more action than all of us in this room combined.”

  Lucky couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “But that was thirty years ago.”

  “He’s been out from his desk and in the real world often enough since then,” Crash told him. “You guys want to hear a story?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Wes said. “Uncle Crash, tell us kids a story.”

  “S squared, wiseass,” Bobby intoned. “I want to hear.”

  Cowboy, even fewer pages from the end, put down his book.

  Crash had their full attention. He smiled. “Jake was in Saudi Arabia during Desert Storm, and his team was assigned to take out this one Iraqi Scud missile launcher that kept evading us. The Iraqis would fire the Scud at our troops, then move that sucker to a new location. Jake’s SEAL team was working off of satellite pictures and getting nowhere, so Jake—he wasn’t an admiral yet, but he was close—he tells whatever commodore was in charge that he and his men were going to try to check things out a little closer to the source. What he didn’t say was that a little closer turned out to be downtown Baghdad, deep inside enemy lines. When they got into the city, Jake and his team split up. They had the locations where the Scud launcher had been set and fired from over the past few weeks, so they searched those neighborhoods for a place where something that size might be hidden.

  “Jake’s team finds not one, but two Scud missile launchers, and they uncover the location of a chemical weapons storage facility. So there Jake is, in the middle of Baghdad, with more than enough explosives to take out a single Scud launcher but not quite enough to do all three targets. He knew he could try to stretch it thin, but that way he risked destroying nothing.”

  “Damn, what did he do?” Harvard asked.

  “I’d’ve blown the Scud launchers and given the location of the chemical site to intelligence,” Wes said. “Have them take out the place through air strike.”

  “Except those chemical sites were moved constantly,” Lucky pointed out. “Even just a few hours later, it might’ve already been gone.”

  “And this one was in the middle of a residential neighborhood,” Crash told them. “Not the most PC site for an air raid.” He smiled again. “Jake managed to take out all three targets with no civilian casualties.”

  “How?” Lucky asked. “Did he find a munitions dump? Get his hands on more C-4?”

  “No,” Crash said. “He took his time. And he thought it through. And when he was ready, and only when he was ready, he placed the explosives he had very strategically. It was risky, but the man’s a wizard when it comes to blowing things up. He trusted himself, and he got the job done.” He was looking directly at Lucky. “I think we should do the same—trust our team leader to get the job done.”

  Lucky nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  Message received.

  On Tuesday, Zoe was assigned to clean bathrooms. She gave Jake a comically dark look as she headed down the hallway with Edith, a pale ghost of a woman who’d been assigned as her cleaning partner.

  Edith looked as if she’d be a breeze to evade. With luck, their pairing would be ongoing.

  Of course, it didn’t really matter who Zoe was paired with. She would manage to get away from anyone. She was that good.

  She was more than good.

  She was…

  Jake took several steps backward to watch her. Her hips swayed a little as she walked away. Just enough to advertise that the body inside those androgynous jeans was pure female.

  They’d taken another late shower last night. Dear, dear God. Sex with Zoe was indescribable. It was…

  Sex. It was purely physical. Two people having a damn good time with their bodies.

  Zoe was so direct, so honest. She didn’t play games, didn’t try to make him guess what she wanted. She liked having sex the way he did—with her eyes wide open and the lights brightly lit.

  He loved watching her eyes as he drove himself into her. He loved the way she seemed to look directly into his soul, the way the connection between them seemed an almost mystical thing. He loved the hunger of her kisses, the sheer intensity of her release. He loved the way she curled against him at night, touching as much of him as possible, as if despite all that they’d done, she still couldn’t get enough of him. He loved the way, with just one look and smile this morning, she’d let him know she was anticipating making love to him again tonight.

  He loved the way just watching her walk down the hall made him aware of the blood rushing through his veins, aware of his heart’s steady rhythm.

  Oh, yes, he was feeling very much alive.

  Zoe turned to glance back at him, and he didn’t look away. He let her know he was watching her. He let her see exactly what he was thinking.

  She laughed, and an incredible surge of warmth seemed to detonate within him, radiating out, filling him with happiness.

  She waved before she disappeared around the corner, and Jake stood there for several moments longer, struck by the realization that he was going to miss her today. For four days, they’d been together constantly. And as much as the waiting had frustrated him, he’d loved sitting with Zoe and talking for hours and hours and hours.

  He’d loved learning about her, loved discovering the intricate ways her mind worked, loved her thoughtfulness and her quick sense of humor.

  She’d filled more than the void in his life caused by his lack of a sexual partner. Far more.

  And that realization shook him.

  He’d been so certain of his feelings yesterday, as he’d sat by the waterfall in the early morning light. He’d been convinced that his relationship with Zoe felt so right because it didn’t go beyond the physical. And yet his missing her today wasn’t just about sex.

  And then there was that annoying question he hadn’t quite found a way to ask her. “So, babe. When you go undercover, playing husband and wife like this, does, uh, this sort of thing—you know, this intense physical attraction and mind-blowingly great sex—happen all the time?”

  He shouldn’t care about that, about who she’d been with in the past and why she’d been with them. He shouldn’t care about the casualness that she assigned to sexual relationships. Why should he care about anything beyond these immediate moments and the fact that right now she wanted him?

  He had absolutely no right to be jealous. Jealousy implied love, and…

  Falling in love with Zoe Lange would be the mistake of his lifetime. What, did he honestly think she would ever agree to marry him? Yeah, right. Oh, she liked him, she desired him, and she probably wouldn’t object to getting together and getting it on with him three or four or five times a year, whenever she rolled in to D.C. But marriage? Not a Twinkie’s chance in a room full of eight-year-olds.

  Get a grip, pal. Jake headed toward Christopher Vincent’s office. You’re not looking to marry the woman. It’s just the sex messing with your brain.

  Indescribable sex. With a woman whose smile and laughter made him feel truly happy for the first time in years.

  Of course he was feeling happy—there was no big mystery to it. Sure, he liked her, sure she was smart and sharp and funny, but the bottom line was that in his mind, Zoe equaled sex. And sex equaled happy. After living like a monk for three very long years, sex definitely equaled very, very happy.

  All of his warm, fuzzy feelings could be traced to the fact that Jake no longer had to imagine Zoe naked. He could pull her into the shower and see her naked anytime he wanted. See her and to
uch her and…

  And that had nothing, nothing to do with love.

  Love was what he’d had with Daisy. Slow and easy at times, hot and furious at others, ebbing and flowing like the tides. Love was years of understanding, the ability to communicate volumes with a single look or touch or smile. It was trust, it was faith, it was never to be doubted. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best thing he’d ever had.

  There was no way a man could hope to find something so rare twice in one lifetime. And the thought of settling for something that didn’t live up to what he’d once had…

  No, he didn’t love Zoe Lange.

  But even if he did, he didn’t have to worry. It would never work out.

  Zoe would never expect anything long term, Mitch had told him. Because she leaves, too. And she’ll probably leave first.

  And Jake tried to convince himself that that thought made him feel so damned bad only because he would miss the indescribable sex.

  “Your position on the high council of the CRO can be secured immediately,” Christopher Vincent said, eating a sticky bun as he sat behind his fancy oak desk in his private office, “through your willingness to share your personal wealth.”

  The room wasn’t large. It didn’t have one single window. But it did have three doors, all tightly shut, leading off the wall behind Vincent’s desk. Jake was willing to bet that behind one of those doors was the CRO surveillance control room—and possibly the missing Triple X.

  Jake held out his hands in a shrug. “Chris, you know as well as I do that all my funds are frozen. I’ve got over four million dollars in liquid assets—that I can’t touch.”

  Christopher stood up and opened the door on the far left. It was only a bathroom. One down, two to go.

  He turned on the light and rinsed his hands, raising his voice to be heard over the running water. “Personal wealth isn’t limited to finances.” He came out, drying his hands on a towel.

  “Information,” Jake said. “After thirty-five years in the U.S. Navy, I’m in possession of a great deal of information that might be useful to you.” He sat forward. “Look, Chris, I’ve heard people talk about this birthday celebration you’re planning. Let me sit in on the meetings, see if there’s anything I can contribute—”