walked over to the model and gave him a smile. “If you note—” she lifted the fabric of the jacket and twisted it in her fingers “—the cloth moves and breathes just like regular cotton. It is thin, light and available in a variety of colors. No more need for steel plates and heavy, movement-restricting armor.”
A few in the audience caught their breath.
Zoey waved the model on. He took off his jacket, revealing his white dress shirt. He glanced back at her and gave her a sly smile as he dropped his jacket to the ground. He leaped forward, his hands raised in the air, and he did a tight spiral backflip onto the ground, landing just in front of the woman seated in the front row.
There was a roar of applause.
Yes.
Money would be flowing in no time.
If they could sell just ten thousand button-up shirts, they would recoup their entire investment, and anything beyond would be gravy.
She sent a silent prayer up to Trish, one begging for her forgiveness.
As the model weaved through the crowd, letting the audience touch and feel the Lycra-like cloth, the next model entered from the side. She wore a black pair of yoga pants and a white T-shirt. Nothing fancy, and nothing to indicate she was prepped for a firefight.
“We are proud at H&K to design clothing that meets everyday needs for all. We don’t simply create clothing for high-profile events and celebrities, but we also want to protect those who are just like us—those out there risking their lives for the greater good.”
Several models followed the woman as the crowd jostled in their seats for a better view. People were slipping in from the back entrance and, as there were no longer any seats available, standing room became a premium.
As the last model disappeared, the crowd moved to their feet with applause.
“Thank you,” Zoey said, glancing over to her guards, who now looked more nervous than ever. “We appreciate your support in our continuing effort to bring safety to those who most need it.”
A woman’s scream pierced through the air.
Zoey turned to her right. There, just a few yards away, one of her guards raised his gun. He didn’t hesitate as he pointed it straight at her center mass and pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck true.
She crumpled to the ground as pain flooded her senses. “It’s okay, everyone. He works for me.” She struggled to catch her breath.
Her hands moved to her chest. A trickle of blood seeped between her fingers.
We should have done more testing.
Or maybe Trish is calling me out for using her death to profit. If she was still here, I would tell her this was for her...all for her...
The world spun as Zoey tumbled downward and darkness swallowed her whole.
What in the hell was that woman thinking, having her man shoot her to demonstrate one of her products?
Eli raced to the front of the tent and elbowed his way through the throngs of people who had rushed to help Zoey Martin.
Damn that woman.
He couldn’t believe she would ever do something so foolish, so brash. Then again, should he really be surprised? All she ever cared about was being at the center of everything—attention, plans, a firefight—it didn’t matter. It was Zoey Martin’s way or no way at all.
Damn her.
And damn himself for thinking he could come here and walk away from her unscathed. Whenever he was near Zoey, he should know something bad was bound to happen.
If she was dead...he’d kill the man who’d pulled the trigger.
Who would have ever gone through with such a stupid publicity stunt?
Zoey lay in a fetal position as he got to her, her pink dress pulled up high on her thigh and exposing a little pair of black shorts. Her side rose and fell as she breathed, and aside from her lying there, and him having watched her being shot, she didn’t look too much the worse for wear.
He pushed the crowd back from her, yelling at them to give her some space. He knelt down in front of her. “Zoey?”
Her eyes were closed and her lips were pursed as though she were trying to Lamaze her way through the pain. Even doing that, he’d be damned if she still wasn’t one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. And that dress...
He held his chuckle as he realized once again he had found himself in trouble because of the perfect dress...and once again it was on Zoey, the woman his world had revolved around just two years ago.
Oh, how the mighty fall.
Zoey’s eyes fluttered open, revealing her caramel-colored eyes. If only she were half as sweet as those eyes looked.
“Eli?” she said, her voice ragged with pain. As she moved to sit up he could see the blood on her fingers.
His heart dropped. She was really actually hurt.
His anger morphed into panic. “Zoey, we need to get you out of here and to the hospital. Do you think I can move you?” He leaned in and moved her hand.
There was a crushed slug embedded into the fabric of her dress.
Though he had heard rumors about the bulletproof capabilities of her new clothing line, he hadn’t truly believed it until now. It seemed unfathomable that something like this was possible.
“Holy crap, Zoe...” he said. His breath escaped him as he reached down and pulled the slug from her dress.
The pink fabric was still in place, with not even a single tear. Where the bullet had impacted, there was a bit of blood seeping up and through the fabric. How could something stop a bullet, but then let blood through?
He stared as he tried to make sense of it until he finally pulled himself back to the task at hand.
“Zoey, are you okay? Can you move?” he asked.
She stared at him. “Eli, what in the hell are you doing here?” She moved to sit up. “You... You shouldn’t have come.”
“And you shouldn’t have done what you just did.” He gave her a hand and she pulled herself to standing. As their fingers touched, he couldn’t help but be a little surprised that she had taken him up on his offer of help. She must have been hurting.
She pulled her hand from his. With a nod of acknowledgment, she made her way back up to the podium.
“Everyone,” she said, clearing her throat and forcing herself to stand straight. “Everyone, please quiet down,” she
