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 blasé 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 commanded.
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.