Suzanne Brockmann - Team Ten 07 - The Admiral's Bride Read online

Zoe made her bottom lip start to quiver. "I was told to clean bathrooms. But I...I got lost, and I didn't know what to do, so I followed a cleaning crew in here and—"

  "Get out." Lieutenant Beard held open the door. "Now."

  Zoe grabbed her cleaning supplies and sprinted for the door. On her way out, the second lieutenant hit her so hard on the back of the head that her ears rang and she stumbled to her knees. It was all she could do to keep herself from spinning and giving the bastard a roundhouse kick to the bearded jaw.

  But she didn't. She kept her eyes lowered, her head down. If she was going to make it out of here without completely blowing her and Jake's cover, she wasn't going to do it by advertising her black belt in karate.

  Beth, the leader of the cleaning team, smacked her, too, as Zoe pushed herself onto her feet. ' 'What are you, stupid? You just can't go wherever you want. You were given an assignment."

  Zoe let her eyes fill with tears. It was amazing that she had any left after the way she'd cried just an hour ago. But apparently, she still had plenty to spare. All she had to do was think about Jake, and her tears came in force.

  "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I lost Edith, my partner, and I got scared and I saw you and..."

  "Go back to the kitchen," Beth said sharply. "Edith will probably be waiting for you there."

  Zoe stared at her stupidly. This was it? No being dragged in front of Christopher Vincent? No questions about what she'd been doing in his private office?

  'Go/' Beth said.

  Zoe turned and ran.

  The computer's alarm sounded, piercingly loud, and Lucky turned to see Harvard leaning over Crash's shoulder, looking at the screen.

  "What've we got?" H asked.

  "A key word match," Crash told him grimly. "Three words came up. Zoe. Spy. And birthday."

  Harvard swore.

  The computer was programmed to listen to and record every conversation that came in from the heavily wired CRO fort. Harvard had written a program to search for groups of key words that, when used in a single conversation, might signal trouble.

  Cowboy joined them. "Play it back," he said.

  "We've got video, too," Crash told them as he cued up the digital recording. Lucky rolled his chair closer. "Here we go. Looks like we're in Christopher Vincent's outer office. This can't be good."

  A man on the tape spoke. "What's this?" It was Christopher Vincent's now too-familiar voice. On the video screen, the CRO leader straightened and came into camera range. He'd been bending over, picking something off the floor, but now his face was directly in front of the camera. Yeesh.

  Lucky had one word for Christopher Vincent. Tweezers. It was his only real hope. Because, damn, that single eyebrow wasn't going to get him a GQ cover anytime in the near future.

  "I don't know, sir." Another man stepped into the frame. It was Ian Hindcrest, Vincent's second lieutenant— another beauty pageant contestant from hell, what with the

  six-inch-long ZZ Top beard. He took whatever Vincent had been holding. "It looks like... Yes, it's a paper clip, sir."

  "Who's been in here today?" One thing about having a unibrow, when Vincent glowered, he glowered.

  Hindcrest took a step backward. "You had a series of morning appointments, but the cleaning crew was here after lunch, so I'd guess—"

  "The cleaning crew." Vincent's glower became downright scary. "There was a memo on my desk from the crew leader, but she's a moron, I couldn't read her writing. Something about some incident today? Your name was on the page."

  "Of course." Hindcrest brightened. "I was intending to type up my report about the event this evening. That rather dim new girl, the blonde, wandered in here by mistake."

  "Zoe," Vincent said.

  "That's the one."

  "Wandered where exactly?"

  "I found her in your office." Hindcrest gestured to the door behind him. "Preparing to clean the bathroom."

  "In my office." Vincent nodded, his voice getting louder. "And it didn't occur to you that this new girl— who's still only a probationary member of the CRO—might have gone into my private office because she's a spy?" He was flat-out shouting, and Hindcrest's eyes had glazed over.

  "Spy?" the bearded man said weakly.

  Wes swore pungently, voicing what they all were thinking. "She's made. She's in trouble now."

  "This isn't a paper clip." Vincent snatched the piece of metal from Hindcrest's hand. "It's a makeshift lock pick, dammit! I have no doubt she was trying to break into the inner chamber. Or maybe she'd already been in there, already seen what she needed to see! I knew it. There was something about her."

  "The chemical—" Hindcrest cut himself off, aware he'd said too much. He cleared his throat. "The birthday surprise. Is it...?"

  "Jackpot," Harvard murmured.

  "It's still there," Vincent said, "but we've got to assume she's after it." He swore. "Robinson's probably in on this, too. The son of a bitch!"

  "I'll call the guards to bring them in," Hindcrest said.

  "We've got to warn them," Bobby rumbled.

  "How?" Wes asked. "Send up signal flares?"

  "No," Vincent said on the tape. "Not yet. He's got information I need. Let's let them think their cover's intact. In the meantime, let's get my birthday surprise started on its journey. Call Herzog and Jansen. Tell them they're leaving for New York a few days early."

  "Yes, sir."

  "That's all of the tape," Crash said grimly. "At least it's all that the computer flagged."

  Harvard was already on the phone. ' 'We need immediate stepped-up satellite surveillance. We need code-red intercept teams stopping anyone and anything that so much as pokes a nose outside that CRO gate, and we need..." He looked at Lucky and covered the mouthpiece of the telephone. "We need help. Get on the other secured line, Lieutenant. Call in the rest of Alpha Squad. We need 'em here now.''

  Jake couldn't watch as Zoe wove her beautiful golden hair into an intricate, elegant style. But he couldn't not watch, either. A French braid, he remembered it was called. Daisy's hair had been too curly and wild and thick to wear in that particular fashion. So this was a first for him, watching Zoe's long fingers complete the transformation from jeans-clad tomboy to elegant, graceful, coolly formal beauty.

  It was another first for him, too.

  Jake had never watched Daisy get dressed up to go have sex with another man.

  The thought made him sick.

  How can you do this? He had to clench his teeth to keep the words from escaping. Don't go.

  She wore a black skirt that redefined the word short and a black tank top that hugged her body and framed the tops of her breasts as if they were some kind of work of art. Her long, shapely legs were clad in the sheerest of stockings, her black heels at least three inches high.

  She leaned closer to the mirror to apply a final touch of lipstick and then stepped back to survey herself as she closed her makeup bag with a snap.

  She met his gaze only briefly in the glass.

  "Well," she said.

  Jake couldn't speak.

  "I guess it's time," she said.

  He found his voice, but he had to clear his throat about four times before his words could be understood. "It's still a little early."

  Don't go.

  "I can't walk very fast in these shoes."

  "Ah."

  She turned to face him, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin slightly. She finally met his eyes, but she somehow kept her own gaze cool, distant. "So. I guess I'm out of here."

  Don't go.

  He couldn't believe she was actually going to do this.

  "I guess I'll see you later," she said, heading for the door.

  Don't go.

  She reached for the doorknob, opened the door. And she closed it behind her, leaving without even looking back.

  Chapter

  Zoe had to stop and sit down, drop her head between her legs to keep herself from fainting.

  God, she was going to throw up. />
  Jake hadn't stopped her.

  He'd just watched her get ready, watched her walk away.

  This didn't have anything to do with him. He'd told her that himself.

  She couldn't keep her breathing steady, couldn't stop herself from being buffeted by the raggedness of each breath she took in and out, couldn't stop her hands from shaking and her stomach from churning.

  Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country. Whoever would've guessed it could be this?

  When Jake stood by the mirror, he could still smell Zoe's perfume. It was a subtle fragrance, mysterious and light. He'd watched her put it on—just two short spritzes into the air that she'd then walked through.

  She usually didn't wear any scent at all, but she'd worn this on their wedding day. Their mock wedding day.

  He closed his eyes against the memory of Zoe standing in her trailer, bags already packed, chin held high as she'd prepared to confront him, tough and strong and ready to do whatever she had to do to get inside the CRO gates.

  Whatever she had to.

  She'd looked at him that same way tonight. Right before she'd walked out the door.

  She was cool, she was calm, she was completely in control. She was prepared to do whatever needed to be done, regardless of the sacrifice to herself. She was strong enough and tough enough.

  But Jake wasn't, dammit. He wasn't strong enough. And even though love didn't seem to be part of Zoe's working vocabulary, the fact remained that he loved her.

  Whether he liked it or not, whether he wanted to or not, he loved her.

  And despite telling her otherwise, despite her matter-of-fact indifference to this entire situation, he was not going to allow her to do this.

  He was the team leader, dammit. He had every right to tell her what she could and could not do.

  And she could not do this.

  Jake burst out of the door and headed down the hallway at a dead run.

  Please, God, let him catch her....

  Zoe stood up.

  Holy Mike, she hated wearing heels. Sure, she'd taught herself to run in them—for those times when she had to. But despite the hours of practice, she never quite felt as confident when she was wearing heels as when she had on her sneakers.

  She smoothed her skirt and took a deep breath. She'd made up her mind and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt exactly what it was she had to do.

  Resolutely, she started walking carefully on those high heels, her heart firmly in her throat.

  This wasn't going to be easy.

  As a matter of fact, it was, quite possibly, going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done in her entire life.

  Dick Edgers stopped him in the stairwell.

  "Hey, Jake! I understand you're joining us in the inner council Friday. Congrats."

  "Sorry, Dick, no time to talk." But when Jake moved right, to go around the man, Dick moved to his left, blocking him. And when Jake moved left, Dick moved right.

  "Whoops," Dick said, laughing. "Sorry!" Jake all but lifted him up and moved him out of his way.

  Jake cursed the delay, cursed the fact that he'd waited so long to go after Zoe, cursed the entire situation, cursed himself for letting the charade go this far.

  And when he was done cursing, he started to pray. Please, God, let him catch her. Please, God...

  He took the stairs three at a time and hit the door onto the floor that led to Vincent's quarters at a full run.

  And nearly knocked Zoe onto her rear end.

  He caught them both, holding her tightly, relief flooding through him. He hadn't been too late. Thank God. Thank God.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked as he pulled back to look at her.

  "You're going the wrong way," he said. Vincent's quarters were to the right, all the way down at the end of the hall, but she'd been heading toward the stairwell.

  He realized that her eyes were filled with tears and she was shaking. Still, she lifted her chin as she met his gaze. "I'm drawing the line," she told him.

  He realized instantly what she meant. He'd told her once before that he didn't trust her to draw a line marking what was and was not comfortable for her on this mission.

  But she was telling him, right now, that she was not going to go through with this farce. She was telling him.

  He kissed her—hard—right there in the hallway. He didn't care who could see them, he simply didn't give a damn anymore. She kissed him just as fiercely, clinging to him as if she were never going to let him go. But a kiss wasn't enough. He had far too much to say.

  Jake pulled her with him into the stairwell and down the stairs. There was a men's room on the next floor.

  She could move pretty fast in those heels when she wanted to, and he led her down the other hallway. Still holding her hand, he pushed open the men's room door, pulled her inside and locked the door behind them.

  Releasing her hand, he turned the water on in all three sinks. As the roar from the faucets filled the room, he knew they could be seen but not heard. Zoe knew it, too.

  She stood hugging herself as if she were cold.

  'You were coming after me," she said.

  "I was," he admitted. "I couldn't let you do this. It was crazy of me even to pretend that something this insane would be all right, because it's not." He swore. "I was ready to order you to back down, to forbid you from going further. And if that didn't work, hell, I was ready to get on my knees and beg you if I had to."

  She was in his arms then, holding him as if he were her salvation. And she was crying. Brave, strong, tough Zoe had dissolved into tears.

  "I didn't want to do it," she told him. "I wanted you to tell me not to. I kept hoping you'd stop me, but you just seemed to think it was something I'd do, something you expected of me. And when you said it had nothing to do with you..."

  Her face crumpled, and she clung to him.

  "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Jeez, Zo, I'm so sorry."

  "I wasn't completely honest with you, Jake." She drew in a deep breath as she pulled back to look into his eyes, wiping her face with her hands. "I wanted to impress you,

  make you think I was like, I don't know, James Bond or something."

  He had to laugh at that.

  "And you believed me, even when I tried to tell you it wasn't true. And then it got even worse because I..." She lifted her chin a little higher. "I fell in love with you."

  Jake stopped laughing.

  "That's what I was coming back to tell you." Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. "I've never used sex to get information or...or anything. Not ever. I've never slept with anyone I didn't love at least a little, only with you I...I don't know what happened. I thought it would be safe to fall a little bit in love with you because I know you can't love me, but somehow a little bit became a little bit more and then more and... And it's good, it's a good thing because I didn't think I'd ever feel this way about anyone, but now I know, and it's wonderful and...and tragic, too, because now I also know what you lost when Daisy died, and I'm so, so sorry." Her tears again escaped.

  Jake held her tightly, bemused, amazed, a lump in his throat. Zoe was crying for him. Her tears now were for his loss. She was, without a doubt, one of the most remarkable human beings he'd ever met.

  "I know you still love her," she said softly, her face wet against his neck. "I'm not asking you to stop loving her. And I know I can't replace her. But maybe, if you don't mind, we can keep seeing each other for...I don't know, a while, after this mission is over?"

  Jake tried to clear the lump from his throat, but it wouldn't budge. "Awhile," he repeated. "About how long is a while?"

  He could feel her breath warm against his throat. He could sense her weighing her responses, wondering the best way to answer his question.

  "Honestly," he told her. "Tell me honestly, babe. How long—honestly—would you want that while to last?"

  "I guess," she said carefully, "I was hoping for any-

  thing between
, say, thirty years and forever. Leaning heavily toward forever."

  Forever. Jake closed his eyes as he held her even closer. "Oh, Zoe, your forever's a whole lot longer than mine. My life's half over—yours is just starting and, jeez, I'm—"

  She covered his mouth with her hand. "It's okay," she said. "You asked me to be honest, so I was. I know you're not ready for anything like this. And I know now's not the best time for another installment of the you're too old for me debate. Right now we've got a different problem to deal with."

  "Vincent's expecting you in his dining room," Jake agreed. "You're already five minutes late."

  "What are we going to do?"

  "I signaled the team this afternoon," Jake told her. "They're on standby, waiting for my next command."

  "I keep coming back to our theory that Vincent doesn't truly know what he's got—that he doesn't know what the Trip X is capable of," Zoe said. She wiped the last of her tears from her face. "We haven't found any kind of delivery method, no missiles lying around. No bombs—unless they're already locked up tight with the Triple X and—"

  "I'm ready to gamble," Jake said. Hell, Zoe loved him. He was feeling pretty damn lucky tonight. "Are you?"

  She could read his mind. "Gamble that the Trip X is somewhere in Vincent's private office behind one of those two locked doors?"

  "It's either there or it's somewhere outside this facility," Jake said. "I'm convinced of that."

  She nodded. "I am, too."

  "Okay," Jake said, thinking fast. "Here's our plan. We take control of Christopher's private quarters. You and me. Between the two of us, we can hold off the entire CRO until the SEALs arrive."

  Zoe looked skeptical. "Without a weapon?"

  "I'm sure Christopher has something in there we can liberate. And have you seen the door to his office? You

  would need a serious explosive to get that open after it's been locked. The trick is in getting it locked behind us instead of in front of us." He started to pace. "Look, here's what we do. You go to Christopher's dining room. Make a big deal over the fact that you've heard his chef is a four-star gourmet, that you've been really looking forward to this meal. Don't let him skip right to the dessert—which I've got to assume is you."