One week later, November 10

Zoe taped up another box and stacked it atop the others piling up in one corner of her London penthouse in SoHo. Her bedroom and kitchen were done and she was making good progress in her living room. Her books were all packed, the bookcase shelves empty. She was determined to get through her desk tonight before she turned in; it would help exhaust her so she might actually be able to get more than a few hours’ rest. But first she’d finish reviewing the materials she intended to mail to Oxford in the morning.

Reinventing her life and her preoccupation with what might be happening with Gianna had consumed her since she’d arrived home two weeks ago. Gianna had called two days after they’d parted in London and said she was back in the States but had to stay there indefinitely for the debriefing about the Rozsa case.

Although it had been wonderful to hear Gianna’s voice again and know that she was safe and well, it broke Zoe’s heart that she was in so much pain over losing Cassady. Zoe had met her only briefly, but recognized the kindness the beautiful woman exuded. How often did Gianna lose colleagues? The job these people did involved so many risks, that if she hadn’t met Gianna she couldn’t have comprehended the willingness to endure such a life.

Gianna had shown her a new world of people who lived to serve a greater purpose. Where what they gave, not what they had, defined them.

Gianna had been right. Zoe had become numb. She had become so comfortable in her empty life she’d never stopped to question it. Now she knew what she had settled for all those years was indifference. And nothing killed a person’s willingness to change her life or make a difference more than apathy.

One way or another, with or without Gianna in her life, Zoe refused to return to that lethargic state. When her father had offered her job and anything else she needed to her, probably out of guilt for his brother, Zoe had turned him down. She was determined to live the life she was meant to.

Zoe was filling in the forms that would help begin her new life when the doorbell buzzed. Surprised, she walked to the intercom. Who’d be calling at midnight, unannounced? God knew she wasn’t ready for another crisis. She pressed the button. “Who’s there?”

“I know it’s late, but can I come up?”

“Gianna?” Zoe asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

Zoe buzzed her in. Her heart pounded as she waited for the private elevator doors to open into her penthouse. Glancing around, she frowned at the mess and scurried to clear the couch of her forms and brochures, stacking them haphazardly on the coffee table. She ran a couple of dirty glasses to the sink and threw the shoes and sweaters she’d taken off earlier into the bedroom. Then she stopped in the bathroom to run a brush through her hair. Could be worse. At least she hadn’t put on her very comfortable but not at all sexy pajamas yet. She wore her favorite low-cut jeans and a knit, long-sleeved red shirt with a deep V-neck that displayed a little cleavage.

By the time she returned to the living room, the doors to the elevator were sliding open.

Gianna took her breath away. Zoe was so used to seeing her in camouflage or T-shirts, the transformation was a bit unsettling. In a very good way, like she was meeting her for the first time. Gianna wore a deep purple button-down shirt, tailored nicely to her slender build. She had one hand in the pocket of her black dress trousers, which gave her a cavalier stance that didn’t quite mesh with the nervousness in her dark brown eyes.

Black leather dress boots, polished to a high gloss, had replaced the combat boots. Her short dark hair was stylishly askew and shone in the overhead light from the elevator. Some remnants of the bruises on her face remained, but they had faded significantly and didn’t detract from Gianna’s dazzling beauty.

Gianna stepped out and paused just over the threshold, taking in Zoe from top to bottom, as if memorizing every change and detail just as Zoe had done.

Zoe remained rooted beside the couch. It was ridiculous, considering everything they’d been through. She had dreamed and daydreamed of throwing herself in Gianna’s arms when and if she saw her again, but instead, here she was, frozen and tongue-tied and almost shy. She hadn’t felt like this since she was young.

Gianna cleared her throat and took in all the packed boxes piled in the room. “Is this a bad time?” she finally asked.

“No, of course not…please come farther,” Zoe said. God, why was she acting like such an idiot?

Gianna slowly walked to the couch where Zoe was. She stopped a few feet away and stood like a soldier at rest.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Zoe asked.

“No, I’m good. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

Great. Now Gianna thought she was angry with her.

“It’s been hectic back home with all that’s happened.”

“I’m so sorry about Cassady.”

“Yeah.” Gianna looked over Zoe’s head, concentrating on the wall behind her with an empty stare. “Thanks.”

“Please, sit down,” Zoe said, taking a seat on the couch. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m moving in with my father. I can’t afford this place any longer and decided I’d rather sell it and make better use of the money.”

Now Gianna was staring at something on the coffee table, this time with interest. Zoe followed her gaze. It was her Oxford enrollment forms. “I’m going back to university,” she explained. “I’ve been looking at folders and filling in forms all week. That’s what I plan to use the money for.”

Gianna picked up a few pamphlets. “Medicine.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Gianna smiled. “I’m not surprised. You’ll make a hell of a doctor.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do.” Gianna met her eyes and gazed at Zoe like she wanted to say more but couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

Zoe prayed for something—anything—to break this awkwardness. More than anything, she needed to feel Gianna’s lips on hers. She ached to kiss her. But why was it so difficult? She wanted her so much, but she couldn’t make her limbs move or her mouth verbalize that need.

As Gianna continued to look at her expectantly, Zoe realized how much she wanted her to stay. Not just for now, or for the week. She wanted Gianna in her life. But Gianna wasn’t here to stay; she’d made it clear that she never stayed. The prospect of spending a few hours or days with her before she left again made Zoe hurt beyond comprehension. Why did it always feel like they were saying good-bye?

Suddenly, Zoe needed some space to breathe. “I’m going to get myself a glass of wine,” she said as she got up and walked to the kitchen.

She stood at the counter, taking deep breaths as she poured Merlot in a glass. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” she called.

“I want you,” Gianna said in her ear.

Zoe jumped and set the glass back down. She hadn’t heard Gianna enter the kitchen. Gianna put her arms around her from behind, kissed her neck, and pulled her closer. Zoe felt Gianna’s breasts against her back and moaned.

“I’ve missed you.” Gianna nibbled her ear.

“I’ve…missed…you…too.” Zoe gasped. Gianna’s spicy cologne filled her nostrils, a heady scent that was entirely too irresistible. This felt so good, so right and so wrong. Zoe pulled away from Gianna’s embrace and slipped past her.

Gianna looked confused.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Zoe grabbed her glass and headed back to the couch.

“Do what?” Gianna asked as she followed her to the living room.

Zoe set her glass on the table and faced Gianna. “Keep saying good-bye.”

“I thought you understood,” Gianna said, looking away. “I…my work, it’s not easy but—”

“Gianna, I’m desperately in love with you.”

Gianna’s head slowly turned to her.

“From the moment you left, I’ve spent every waking moment thinking of you and every sleeping moment dreaming of you. I…” Zoe plopped down on the couch, feeling exposed. “I’m sorry for the drama.” She hid her face in her hands. “I’m never like this, it’s just…I’ve never felt like this and it terrifies me. Never mind that ever since you walked in, I feel like a bloody teenager wondering if the school stud will ask me to the big dance, yet knowing that unless a miracle transpires, she never will. And, great, now I’m babbling.”

Gianna pried her fingers from her face and lifted Zoe’s face to hers. “Zoe, you have no reason to be afraid.” Gianna grinned. “Besides, I’ve never asked anyone to a prom. The educational system I was in didn’t include those.”

“Military school?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m terrified, Gianna.” Zoe got up to pace. She needed to keep space between them or she’d never be able to focus. It would be so easy to jump in bed, or on the couch, counter, or every other surface she’d envisioned in the past weeks, and wake up tomorrow full of regrets and dreading Gianna’s departure. “You’re a born soldier. You get up and leave to go fight wars and rescue people.”

“It’s all I know. It’s who I’ve become, or maybe always was.” Gianna remained on the couch but watched Zoe as she paced. “Someday, when I get too old for this and start to get other kinds of assignments, life will slow down. And you know what? I’ll miss it. Yes, what I do is dangerous, but when you’ve lived on adrenaline so long, you don’t know how to be without it. When you survive…” Gianna ruffled her hair while she stared at the coffee table as if she’d find the words there. “When you fight and survive an attack, you’ve lived more in those minutes than is possible during a lifetime.”

Gianna paused to look at her. “Going from that to worrying about laundry and dirty dishes while I wait for the next job won’t be easy. You can take a soldier out of war, but you can’t take the war out of them.”

“In other words, you have no space in your life for anyone or anything else that doesn’t include or present a constant rush,” Zoe said. “All you ever offer anyone is moments. Fragments of your life.”

“That’s right.”

“I want more. It’s selfish, but I want all of you, not just a fast and furious encounter whenever you’re in town.”

“Zoe, I want more, too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love fast and furious, and anything else, for that matter, with you, but—” Zoe stopped pacing. What did Gianna just say?

Gianna got up and came to face her.

Zoe looked up into those deep brown eyes. “Did you just—”

“You give me that rush. Being with you makes me feel just as alive and appreciative of life as being out there. You terrify me as much as any firefight.”

“I do?”

Gianna nodded. “Because you remind me of how much I stand to lose, and for the first time in my life I want to be reminded of that.” Gianna touched Zoe’s lips with her fingertips. “You completely consume me.” Gianna brushed her lips with hers. “Head over heels, crazy in love with you.”

Zoe finally did what she’d wanted to do since Gianna appeared at her door. She wrapped her arms around her and held tight. “How will we ever make this work?” she mumbled in Gianna’s neck.

“Well, that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

Zoe pulled back and looked up at her. “I’m listening.”

“I didn’t know you’d be going back to school, so I meant to ask you to come back with me. To the States. We could find a place and…” Gianna stuttered and turned red.

Zoe smiled. “God, I’m crazy about you. Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Yeah.”

Zoe hugged her again. “I’d love to.”

“And your studies?” Gianna embraced her, too.

“I haven’t enrolled yet. I could study there. It’s just four years. Then I could be away at the same time you’re gone. If that’s possible.”

“Be away?” Gianna repeated.

“I plan to join Doctors without Borders when I’m done.”

Gianna lifted her until Zoe’s feet no longer touched the floor. “I’m so proud of you. You really are an amazing woman.”

“I don’t know about that. But thank you for showing me I have potential.”

Gianna put her back down and kissed her, a slow, sensual kiss. It was a promise, a sealing of their future together, embodied with all their depth of emotion for each other.

“Where do we start?” Zoe asked when they finally parted to breathe. “I mean, what do we do now?”

“Live,” Gianna replied, and kissed her again.

Epilogue

New York City

Five days later, November 15

Montgomery Pierce took a deep breath and paused in front of the door. Although he was about to bring her news, he wasn’t looking forward to the anger—or worse, indifference—he was sure the woman behind this door would receive him with. He felt Joanne’s hand smooth over the back of his suit jacket, a quick stroke of encouragement.

A familiar voice from within answered his two sharp knocks. “Who the hell is it? It’s open.”

He entered the apartment with Joanne Grant and David Arthur flanking him. Although it was dark, one quick look around the small space was enough to see that it hadn’t been cleaned for weeks. And by the smell of it, hadn’t been aired for at least as long. Comic books, soiled clothes, and empty Jack Daniel’s bottles covered every surface. Jaclyn must have been drinking nonstop since the explosion in the lab nearly three weeks earlier.

Joanne pointed to the couch, and he and David turned to see the dark figure lying there. Jaclyn looked barely conscious. Her head was resting on the armrest, and she was struggling to open her eyes. She looked so disoriented Monty wasn’t sure whether Jaclyn had even noticed the three of them. He was about to approach her when Jaclyn spoke.

“What do you want?” Jaclyn slurred, seemingly unimpressed by their presence.

“You’re a mess,” he said quietly, with more observation than accusation.

“You’ve always been a glass-half-empty kinda bastard,” she replied. “I’m simply going through a nihilistic phase.”

“You’re coming with us, Jaclyn,” Monty said, ignoring her remark. The news he came to announce would have to wait. Jaclyn was in no position to handle any discussion, and he feared an irrational reaction. He needed to get her cleaned up and sober, and that wouldn’t happen unless he took charge. He hadn’t intended to take her back with him, but he hadn’t expected her to be this far down a self-destructive path.

“The hell I am.” Jaclyn pulled a Sig Sauer from between the cushions faster than he thought possible in her present state.

Arthur pulled his piece from his holster just as fast.

Never abandoning her horizontal position, Jaclyn merely turned her head to aim from one to the other. “It’s like I told Cass. The only reason you hadn’t come after me was because of her. Did you make her plead to let me live, you son of a bitch? Did you enjoy it when she begged?”

“That’s not what happened,” Joanna said.

“The hell it’s not.” Jaclyn lifted her head. “Thanks for the fucking invite, by the way,” she said, clearly referring to the memorial ceremony. Monty had left voice-mail messages for her on both her cell phone and the landline at Cassady’s Colorado home. “You could’ve just taken me out right there, you know.”

“That’s right,” Monty said. “And we didn’t. Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’d have too much explaining to do to all the others there. Besides, you know I would’ve taken you down first.” She pointed the gun at him. “I’m faster than you, old man.” Jaclyn was obviously wasted.

Monty said, “We can talk about—”

“Listen, if you’ve come to finish what you should have years ago, you’re too late. I’m already well on my way, you son of a bitch.” Jaclyn precariously waved the gun from him to Arthur. Monty was unarmed, as was Joanne. He was incapable of harming Jaclyn, and Joanne shared his sentiment, either because she cared for their former op or because she knew what Jaclyn meant to him. Knowing Joanne, it was probably both. She treated all ops like they were her own children.

“Take it easy, Jack. You’re drunk,” Arthur said, backing up a bit and keeping his gun trained on her.

Jaclyn pointed her P226 at him. “In a world in flux, Arthur, it’s good to know that some things are stable. You still have a talent for pointing out the ridiculously obvious.”

Arthur said, “If you’d just shut up and put the gun down, we’re here to—” but Monty put a hand to his arm.

“Not now,” he whispered. Jaclyn was too drunk and unpredictable. His mere movement had prompted her to shift her aim from Arthur back to him.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jaclyn,” Joanne said. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Screw you, Joanne.”

“That’s enough, Jaclyn,” Monty said austerely, disregarding her unpredictable state. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Jaclyn glanced from him to Joanne, although it looked like it was taking every last morsel of energy she had to focus on their faces. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Pierce has already taken care of that. Screwing you, I mean. Everyone knows, you know.” She waved her gun drunkenly at him. “Way to go, Pierce, although I think Joanne could have done a lot better.”

“Get up, Jaclyn,” Monty said sternly.

“Go to hell…Monty,” Jaclyn replied, tightening her grip on the 9mm. “If you want to take me out, you’ll have to do it here. You know what?” she mumbled. “I won’t even put up a fight. Look.” Jaclyn smiled and set the gun on the coffee table in front of her. “Just go for the temple.” She pointed to the exact spot. “Respect my last wishes and let me die in this rat hole. I find it very apropos, don’t you?” She stared at the ceiling. “If you live in the gutter, you deserve to die like the rodents that inhabit it.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Monty said. “I hate to see you like this. What happened to the woman who—”

Jaclyn sat up for the first time, though it was clearly a struggle. “Don’t you fucking dare pretend you give a shit about what happened to that woman,” she spat contemptuously. “You didn’t give a good God damn fuck nine years ago when the three of you acted like all I needed was some patching up after I’d been tortured and fu…” Jaclyn was shouting now and Pierce saw her look down at her gun. “You dismissed, practically ignored it all…told me to come back just so I could mosey on along to the next damn job.”

“We were wrong to do that,” Monty replied. He always hated to hear that his operatives had suffered in the line of duty, but it had been especially painful to learn in his updates from Cassady what Jaclyn had endured. And now, to hear and see it himself, how it had fractured Jaclyn, was unbearable.

“We can’t even begin to tell you how sorry we are,” Joanne said.

“Oh, okay. Well, in that case, why don’t we call it good and go out for burgers and shakes, like a big happy…are you all fucking insane?” Jaclyn asked. “Oh, oops, we made a mistake that cost you the last ten years of your life. But, hey, we’re sorry.”

“You’re right,” Monty said. “An apology is painfully inadequate.”

“Why her?” Jaclyn asked him. “Why did you have to send Cassady on this job? Was it because you couldn’t stand the fact that I was happy?”

“If you’re implying that I sent her there to get killed just to spite you—”

“You know what?” Jaclyn rested her elbows on her knees as she looked from one to the other. “It doesn’t even matter. None of this matters.” She dropped her head and ran her hands through her hair. “Cassady’s dead. The only person I ever loved is gone.” She rubbed her eyes. “I should have gone with her. Been there to protect her. But I wasn’t, so I’m as much to blame.” She looked at the gun. “What’s the point?” She grabbed the Sig Sauer from the table.

“Now!” Monty yelled, and Arthur shot her in the neck.

Jaclyn looked up, a mixture of shock and disbelief on her face. “Why?” she asked as she slowly fell back on the couch. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, and shut her eyes.

Monty ran to her and knelt between her legs. He removed the tranquilizer dart and cupped her face with both hands. “Cassady’s alive, honey. She’s alive,” he said, but Jaclyn was already out cold.

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 718