Star-Spangled Bride

  He stiffened. "Phony?"

  "You heard me. I bought it on the black market. It's a damn good one, but if anyone tarted delving, they'd find out it was a phony."

  She stood up and started pacing. "How am I going to get back to the States? I'm a journalist, for heaven's sake, I need to go where the stories are. I suppose I could buy another passport under another name to use outside the country, but they'd alert U.S. Immigration and I'd never be able to—"

  "Wait a minute," Gabe interrupted. "Back up. Why did you have to buy a passport to begin with? Why didn't you just apply for one?"

  "Because I'm not an American citizen," she said jerkily. "My father was a naturalized American citizen. When he was convicted of arms running and lying on his citizenship application regarding the crime, he was deported and stripped of his citizenship before I was born."

  "I see," he said. "And you're being tarred for your father's sins."

  "Not entirely." Her smile was without mirth. "I was picked up by government agents in El Salvador for acting as a lookout for Evan. He managed to get me away from them, but that makes me a criminal too."

  "And how old were you when you committed this heinous crime?"

  "Eleven. Evan started using me for a lookout when I was eight. No one ever suspects kids." She gave him a sober look. "And it was a heinous crime. Evan says he only supplies a demand that would be met by someone else anyway, but I've never fooled myself. Wars can't be fought without guns. You have to be responsible for your own morals and not worry about someone else's."

  "You only did what your father told you to do," he said roughly. "You were only a kid, for God's sake."

  "I dug in and told him I wouldn't do it any longer when I was fifteen, but it was too late. It's not going to make any difference to Immigration how old I was. I have a criminal record and the United States doesn't want undesirables like me in the country. Like father, like daughter." She tried to smile as she shrugged. "It's all in how you're perceived in this black-and-white world. Immigration doesn't recognize any grays."

  "You're not gray, dammit. You're as—" He stopped and then said, "I take it you're afraid the media is going to unearth your unsavory past."

  "You know they will. Within two weeks they'll know everything about me down to the number of fillings in my teeth.. Your release is the biggest story of the year and it's going to start a press feeding frenzy. You'd read the riot act to any of your journalists who didn't search out every kernel of a story."

  "My reporters don't go in for yellow journalism."

  "You only say that because you're feeling guilty that you goofed in bringing me here. The truth isn't out of bounds to any reporter and it's not yellow journalism. I'd go after every detail of your story myself. It's only good reporting and—"

  "All right, I'll grant you all that's true and I've put you in a rotten position. What's your solution?"

  "I'll lie low and stay away from the U.S. Jed will give me assignments."

  "In Yugoslavia, no doubt."

  "Maybe."

  "The hell he will," Gabe said violently. He pushed back his chair. "I'll think of something else."

  "Like what?" She shook her head. "Do you think I haven't tried to think of another way out?" She swallowed. "I liked pretending I was an American. I felt... I liked it."

  "If you're not American, what nationality are

  you?"

  She shook her head. "My father thought my mother was Swedish, but he wasn't sure."

  "Why the devil didn't he find out?"

  "They both lived on the fringe." She smiled bitterly. "You don't know what it's like. You come together for a while and then you drift apart. You travel from country to country and never settle, never belong anywhere. You're the person your passport says you are, and when the passport becomes obsolete, your identity is too. Then you get a new passport and become someone else."

  "Lord, what a hell of a life for a kid."

  "You get used to it."

  "Sure you do."

  "You do. You just have to take one day at a time, enjoy every pleasure that comes your way, and ignore all the rest."

  "I'd make a bet there were a lot of things you couldn't ignore."

  "Some." She grimaced. "For Pete's sake, stop making me out to be a martyr. I had plenty to eat and a bed most of the time. You know, I could have been born in a place like Somalia."

  "At least you would have had a country, an advantage that your delightful father didn't provide you."

  "He wasn't delightful and you couldn't call him much of a father, but he wasn't a monster either," she said defensively. "Sometimes he was even ..." She searched for a word for Evan that was not derogatory. "Fun. He never actually—" "Be quiet and let me think." He stood there, a frown wrinkling his brow as he mentally went over possibilities. "There's just got to be some means to—" He snapped his fingers. "We'll get married."

  She stared at him in shock. Marriage to Gabe. A multitude of unidentifiable emotions surged through her in the space of a heartbeat. Then she snapped her own fingers. 'We'll get married,' she mimicked. "That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. What do you think this is? The movie set of Pretty Woman} This is real life. Immigration has had too much experience with phony marriages to acquire citizenship." Her voice was suddenly shaking with intensity. "I want American citizenship more than anything in this world. If it were that simple, I'd have paid some expatriate American to marry me years ago."

  His gaze narrowed absently on the painting on the wall across the room. "So we'll have to convince them it's not phony, or at least convince the public. If we can get enough popular support, any political pressure I can apply will be more effective."

  She shook her head. "It would never work."

  "I can make it work. I'm the man of the hour and you saved my life."

  "And if I marry you, it will make me look like an adventuress taking advantage of a man who's been cooped up so long he's lost his judgment."

  He smiled. "There's nothing wrong with my judgment."

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, listen to him, let him convince her.

  "Come on," he challenged. "Let me take a stab at it. What can it hurt? If I don't pull it off, you can still vanish into the mist."

  "Mist disappears in the sunlight."

  "Put yourself into my hands," he said softly. "I want to do this, Ronnie."

  "Why?" she whispered. "I told you that you didn't owe me anything. All debts are paid."

  "Ah, that mysterious debt. I can't believe something I can't remember would be worth taking the risks you ran." He gently touched her cheek. "And that isn't why I want to help you."

  "Then why?"

  His eyes were suddenly twinkling. "Purely selfish. It will give me a better chance of getting you into bed. We've already discussed how horny I am."

  "Not that horny."

  "You have no idea. And there's also the concept of righting wrongs and setting a terrible criminal on the road to redemption."

  "Stop joking. This is serious."

  His smile faded. "No one could be more serious than I am at the moment. You helped me out of that hellhole and I want to give you something you value as much as I do my freedom." He held out his hand. "Let me help you,

  Ronnie."

  He was so confident he could mend everything for her, but she knew his efforts would be completely useless. They'd never convince anyone it was a genuine marriage. No one knew better how cynical the world could be. It would be a great risk; she had a lot to lose. Her life was going along quite satisfactorily and those wistful dreams she had held since childhood weren't worth sending it crashing down about her. She didn't really need a country. She should be content with what she had.

  But she wasn't content. She had never been content. She wanted what he offered her. What if there were risks? she thought recklessly. She had lived on the edge since the day she was born and this gamble was for a prize she had wanted all her life. If she didn't win, she would still have had
a few more weeks with this man who had intrigued and fascinated her for the last ten years.

  She slowly reached out and put her hand in his.

  "Set up a press conference for one o'clock tomorrow afternoon," Gabe said to Dan as he strode into his suite fifteen minutes later. "I want full coverage."

  "Our exclusive?" Dan asked as he started for the phone on the desk.

  "No, everyone. CBS, ABC, CNN . . ." Gabe picked up the extension on the end table by the couch, accessed the second line, and placed a call to Senator Koras in Washington. "Newspapers too. Everyone." He spoke to Koras's secretary and then, when he was put on hold, added to Dan, "And I want a report on Evan and Ronnie Dalton. Everything derogatory, everything good, and everything in between. I want it by the news conference tomorrow."

  Dan gave a low whistle. "That's not going to be easy. Can we count on Ronnie for help?"

  Gabe shook his head. "Do it on your own. She's not going to say anything that would incriminate her father even to help herself. She still has a certain amount of loyalty to the scumbag."

  "My, how violent we are." Dan picked up the phone. "It's common to have a certain affection for one's parents."

  "Not if they don't deserve it. Not if they use you and—" Gabe broke off and tried to control his temper. The thought of Evan Dalton and the life he had made Ronnie lead infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't usually view people so judgmentally, but the idea of Dalton using a kid to— No, not just any kid. Ronnie. The crux of his anger was that Dalton had used Ronnie, who was honest and loyal and beneath that tough veneer more vulnerable than anyone he had ever known.

  He had a sudden memory of her sitting by the fire, her expression earnest and a little wistful as she talked about going to see the Declaration of Independence. He couldn't imagine a life without roots or any stability. It was a wonder she had survived to become the unique woman he had met two days ago. Two days? Lord, it seemed a lifetime. He had run the entire gamut of emotions with Ronnie Dalton; lust, respect, amusement, exasperation, possessiveness, pity . ..

  The senator came on the line and Gabe spoke quickly. "Yes, I'm fine, Harry. I just called to thank you for your efforts on my behalf. I understand from Dan you were at the president's throat from the time the negotiations to get me back started." He cut off Koras's modest protestation in midsentence. "Yes, you were. That's why I have another favor to ask of you now."

  "I don't like this." Ronnie jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket as she walked beside Gabe down the corridor. "Why do I have to be here?"

  "Because you're the heroine of the hour," Gabe said placidly. "Why are you so nervous? You've attended hundreds of these news conferences."

  "But I was the one asking questions and taking pictures."

  "I'll fend off the questions and you'll photograph very well."

  "I don't want to be photographed," she said. "I'm surprised you didn't want to send me to Elizabeth Arden and get me up in a haute couture outfit."

  "I don't think Sedikhan has an Elizabeth Arden's and you're fine as you are." His appraising gaze ran over her casual jeans and chambray shirt topped by her worn leather jacket. "Fresh angel's face, attitude a little tough, but that's okay. You couldn't have pulled off my rescue if you didn't have those characteristics. It just makes you appear more interesting."

  "Thanks," she said wryly. She moistened her dry lips. "This is a terrible idea. It's not going to work, you know."

  "If it doesn't, we'll try something else." He stopped outside the closed door of the conference room and paused. "Listen, Ronnie, I know this isn't going to be easy for you, but I'll be there with you all the way." His voice deepened. "I won't let anyone or anything hurt you again."

  His gaze held hers with a forcefulness that was like a wall of strength. She felt again that sense of bonding. "Sometimes you can't help people from getting hurt," she said unsteadily. "It just. . . happens. I won't blame you if it does."

  "I'd blame myself," he said quietly. "I'd blame myself so much I don't think I could stand it." His fingers touched her lips. "So I can't let it happen, can I?"

  Her lips felt soft, exquisitely sensitive beneath his fingers. If she spoke, the words would be a caress, and she must not permit herself that intimacy.

  His mouth suddenly curved with humor as his hand fell away from her. "But do me a favor?"

  She would do anything for him at that moment, fight a dragon, blow up CNN's satellite. "What?" she whispered.

  "Don't tell the entire world I slugged you."

  FIVE

  It hadn't been too bad so far, Ronnie thought as her gaze swept over the sea of reporters and cameras. There was James Ketrick, who had been with ABC in Kuwait. She recognized a few other faces. Damn, she wished she was out there with them instead of here on this blasted podium.

  The news conference had gone on for over an hour and focused almost entirely on Gabe's experiences during his captivity. Whenever questions came up concerning her part in his escape, he had deftly changed the subject or deflected the question with a promise to address it later. With any luck she'd be able to scoot out of this with a minimum of attention and get—

  "And now that we've gone over all the depressing details, we'll move to the more colorful aspects of the story." Gabe leaned forward into the microphones on the podium. "Dan has prepared a news release to give you all regarding the exact details of my escape, and I'm sure you've already heard rumors of my colleague's part in it." Ronnie stiffened as he inclined his head in her direction. "It wasn't just a part. She planned, set up, and executed every detail of my release with no help from any government or private agency."

  A rush of murmurs swept the audience.

  "She did so at the risk of her life and danger of her own captivity." His lips thinned. "And believe me, the latter is no small risk, as she knew very well. Let me tell you a few things about Ronnie Dalton. You all know her work. Among other stories she did Jed Corbin's camera work in San Salvador, the Los Angeles riots, and the hurricane coverage at Homestead.

  "What you haven't heard about is a few other episodes in her life. That she turned in film of atrocities in Kuwait to the Human Rights Commission rather than sending it to the networks."

  Ronnie could feel the heat in her cheeks. She should never have told Gabe about that, she thought in disgust. He was making her sound noble, for heaven's sake.

  "You probably also never heard that in Somalia she drove an unescorted relief truck to a village in an area beset by bandits."

  Her mouth fell open.

  He smiled at her. "Sorry, Ronnie, I know you're going to want revenge after this." He turned back to the reporters. "And you might be interested in the fact that she paid for that relief truck out of her own pocket and offered similar help to the homeless in Homestead. There are probably several other instances you can dig up that will prove what kind of woman she is. I've never met a braver or more honest individual or one more worthy of representing the United States around the world." He paused and then added soberly, "There are a few things that aren't as wonderful in her life, and she won't talk about those either. To save you from digging them up, you'll find a complete dossier on Ronnie Dalton with the material Dan will hand out. What won't be in the dossier is that I will have the extreme honor of marrying this remarkable woman tomorrow afternoon at four o'clock." He held up his hand to stop the outbreak of questions. "I've been away a long time and I'm homesick as hell. It's my hope that the American people will be generous enough to permit my wife to come home with me." He paused. "Because I won't come home without her."

  Ronnie stared at him, stunned. "You can see she's a little surprised. We agreed to go public, but she didn't expect me to put her on the spot like this." He grimaced. "She'll make me suffer for it later."

  He ignored the laughter as he reached out his hand to pull her to her feet. "Come on, Ronnie, I'll let them ask you three questions and then we'll escape from here."

  Her knees were shaking and
she needed his support as she joined him in front of the microphones. "Don't you dare leave me," she said in an undertone.

  "I'll be here." He held her hand as they faced the cameras. "Be kind to her. She deserves it." He lifted Ronnie's hand to his lips and kissed it.

  The old-world gesture should have looked phony coming from such a contemporary powerhouse as Gabe Falkner. It didn't appear anything but graceful and caring and just right. He was just right. She couldn't stand here and stare at him. Cripes, she must look a complete dunce.

  She straightened her shoulders and turned to face the audience. "Okay, I'm here. I don't want to be here. I'd much rather be out there with you. So fire away and let me blow this joint."

  The room erupted and Gabe stepped forward. "Three questions."

  "How did you manage to secure Falkner's release when the other attempts were unsuccess-ful?"

  "I had the help of my father."

  "You'll find several references to Ronnie's father in the dossier." Gabe pointed to another reporter. "Next."

  "We've never heard of you in connection with Falkner. How long has this relationship been going on?"

  "Years."

  She pointed to James Ketrick. "You, Jim."

  Ketrick was smiling cynically. "You're trying to tell us you rescued Gabe Falkner because you love him, Ronnie?"

  Cripes, there were going to be soppy headlines from New York to Bangkok. She looked at Gabe in panic. He was smiling ruefully at her, giving her support, strength, and warmth, making everything all right again.

  Shock rippled through her and she inhaled sharply.

  "Ronnie," Gabe prompted softly.

  She tore her gaze away and faced the reporters. "Yes," she said shakily. "What else could I do? I love him."

  She stepped back and Gabe's arm immediately went around her. "That's all." He nodded to Dan, who immediately began distributing the news releases. The distraction allowed them to reach the door without interference, and the guards had been given orders to let no one leave the room for five minutes after they had made their getaway.

  "You did very well," he said as he swept her down the hall toward her suite. "Just the right amount of professionalism and sentiment. For a minute I thought that honesty of yours was going to get us into trouble."