Operation: Midnight Escape

by Linda Castillo

  A protest teetered on her lips. A protest born of the need to protect herself from the hurt he would invariably bring her. That protest came out as a sigh when his body came full length against hers. Leigh whimpered as need took hold of her, as another surge of pleasure overwhelmed her. She was keenly aware of her own body responding to his. Her heart beat out a maniacal rhythm; her breasts swelled; her nipples hardened and ached to be touched; her panties dampened against her skin.

  She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal against her cleft. His labored breaths echoing in her ears. The heat of his mouth against hers. Fire burning her body from the inside out.

  She cried out when he brushed his fingertips over her breasts. As if of its own accord, her body arched toward him, wanting him with a desire bordering on madness. She wanted his hands on her breasts, his body inside hers.

  It had been six years since she’d been touched by a man. But Leigh didn’t want to lose her head the way she had before. She had to stay in control. Six years ago she’d given him the power to hurt her. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  “Jake,” she panted. “Don’t.”

  He stilled, and she used that moment to slip from his grasp. For an instant the only sound came from their labored breathing.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a mistake.”

  “It sure as hell didn’t feel like a mistake,” he ground out.

  “I can’t deal with you and…what’s happening with Rasmussen at the same time.”

  “I’m trying to protect you. He’s the one trying to hurt you. Don’t get the two confused, Leigh.”

  She hadn’t meant it that way, but she didn’t correct him. Better to have him angry at her than to have him wanting her. One more kiss and she wasn’t sure she would have the strength to stop it.

  Cursing beneath his breath, Jake turned away and stalked to the window. Darkness had fallen. He stared out at the snowy landscape, his shoulders broad and square, his spine rigid.

  Then he turned to her. As he did, his eyes were cool. “I’m going to pick up some supplies and get gas. I suggest you try to get some rest. We’ll leave in three hours.”

  At that he yanked open the door and stepped into the night.

  THE WIND HOWLED around the old grain elevator like a banshee. After an hour of tossing and turning, Jake gave up on sleep. He wasn’t sure if it was the physical frustration of wanting Leigh or worry over Rasmussen, but he was too keyed up to rest.

  For the life of him he couldn’t figure out how Rasmussen was tracking them. Had the international arms dealer traced the calls he’d made to Leigh? Jake didn’t see how that was possible, particularly with their being in a rural area.

  Or had fellow MIDNIGHT agent Mike Madrid given them up? Jake didn’t want to believe that. He’d known Madrid for going on five years. They were friends. Or at least Jake had always thought so. If not a trace—or a mole within the ranks of MIDNIGHT—how was Rasmussen tracking them?

  There was only one person he could think of who might be able to help. Fellow MIDNIGHT agent Zack Devlin. Devlin was an undercover operative—and an electronics genius. But with Jake turning in his badge, would the other man help him?

  “Only one way to find out,” Jake muttered, and unclipped his cell phone.

  A glance at the display told him it was nearly 2:00 a.m. But it didn’t matter. MIDNIGHT operatives answered their agency-issue cell phones regardless of the hour.

  He dialed Devlin’s number from memory. Devlin answered on the fourth ring with an annoyed, “Yeah.”

  “It’s Vanderpol.”

  The beat of silence that followed told Jake that Devlin knew he’d walked away from the agency. “Any particular reason you’re calling me at two o’clock in the freaking morning?”

  “I need to know how Rasmussen is tracking us.” Jake heard rustling on the other end, the whisper of a feminine voice.

  “Kelly sends her best,” Devlin said.

  “Same goes.”

  “Jake, why the hell did you walk out? Cutter is frothing-at-the-mouth pissed.”

  “He was trying to keep me off the case.”

  “He was bloody right in doing so, man. You’re too involved to be thinking clearly.”

  “They used her to get to Rasmussen last time,” Jake snapped. “I wouldn’t put it past Cutter to do it again.”

  “You know as well as I do it’s probably the most expeditious way to nab that son of a bitch. Cutter isn’t going to let anything happen to her.”

  I had to sleep with him. Leigh’s voice wrenched at him, and Jake closed his eyes.

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “You know I will.”

  Jake wasn’t the only MIDNIGHT agent who’d been known to skate a thin line. “Rasmussen is tracking us. Finding us when I’m certain we haven’t been followed.”

  “Anyone know where you are?”

  “Madrid.”

  An uneasy silence ensued. “I know Mike,” Devlin said. “No way.”

  “Unless they got to his family.”

  “He doesn’t have any family. They were killed.”

  Jake sighed, not yet convinced. “Rasmussen has called Leigh twice. Maybe he’s somehow tracing her cell phone.”

  “Triangulation will only give the location of the nearest tower, if that.”

  “We’re in a rural area.”

  “You been shot at?”

  The hairs at Jake’s nape prickled. “Several times.”

  Devlin cursed. “There was a new tracking system invented by some Dutch scientists called Micronic GPS. A chip small enough to fit inside a pencil eraser. Two months ago, the firm was broken into. The technology was stolen. Conceivably these chips could be implanted inside a modified projectile.”

  Now it was Jake’s turn to curse. “A projectile the size of a bullet?”

  “These modified projectiles are designed to penetrate metal, but not pass through it.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Check your vehicle, Jake. Take pliers or wire cutters or a goddamn hammer. Pry open any bullet holes and see if there’s a device inside your vehicle. You’re looking for a black, plasticlike material that expands on impact. For God’s sake, there’s a possibility Rasmussen already knows where you are and is waiting for the right time to strike. Go!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jake was out of the office and sprinting through the snow toward the old truck even before he hit the end button. He grabbed a big, flathead screwdriver from the truck’s bed, twisted it into the nearest bullet hole and pried open the sheet metal. Sure enough a flat, black plastic device clung like melted rubber to the interior mechanics of the driver’s-side door.

  Praying Devlin had been wrong, he shone the flashlight on the tiny device, surprised to see that his hands were shaking. Even with the naked eye, he could see the copper wiring and solder of the miniature GPS chip.

  “Damn it!”

  He stood in the lightly falling snow, trying to decide what to do. All the while his eyes scanned the black abyss of the fields and woods surrounding the old grain elevator. He had a bug sweeper that would pick up even the faintest radio frequency, but he’d left it in the Hummer. Should he try to locate and re move the remaining chips? Or should he wake Leigh and make a run for it and hope Rasmussen’s thugs weren’t within shooting distance?

  But it was too cold to get far on foot. He had no choice but to make a sweep of the vehicle and pray he could get every transmitter before they got ambushed.

  Starting at the driver’s door, Jake swept the flashlight beam over the sheet metal and quickly worked his way toward the rear. He found two additional bullet holes but no transmitters. Not all of the gunmen had been shooting transmitters. He pried open a bullet hole in the tailgate and found a second transmitter and tossed it into the snow. By the time he’d worked his way around the entire truck, he’d located four GPS transmitters.

  But if Rasmussen’s thugs knew their location, why hadn’t they been ambush
ed?

  Jake set his hand against the pistol tucked into his waistband as he jogged back to the building. He went through the front door, then shoved open the office door. He focused the beam where Leigh had been sleeping.

  “We need to leave,” he said.

  His blood turned to ice when he realized she was gone.

  LEIGH HAD NEVER LIKED camping for the sole reason that forests didn’t come with restroom facilities. Since Jake had been nowhere in sight when she’d wakened a few minutes earlier, she’d made it a point to find a private spot as far away from the grain elevator as safely possible.

  Grumbling, she took care of business and was on her way back when the sound of shoes crunching through snow behind her stopped her in her tracks. The thought that it was only Jake walking the perimeter flashed in her mind. But when she spun and saw a man with a gun, she knew venturing out alone had been a very bad idea.

  Leigh flung herself into a run. “Jake!” She’d taken only a few strides when the man caught her in a flying tackle, his weight knocking her to the ground.

  She went down hard. Unable to break her fall, she got a faceful of snow. It was in her eyes. Her nose. Her mouth. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. Rough arms grasped her wrists from behind. She heard the metallic click of handcuffs and began to panic. Oh, dear God she couldn’t let him immobilize her.

  She screamed, but the snow muffled the sound. Using every ounce of strength she possessed she twisted, managing to free one arm. Animal sounds tore from her throat as she lashed out at her attacker.

  “Hold still, bitch.”

  Leigh twisted onto her side, kicked out with her right leg. She caught a glimpse of a ski mask. Gloved hands. A gun the size of a cannon. Catching her off guard, he flipped her onto her back, his strength terrifying. She caught a glint of the chrome cuffs, realized he was going to cuff her with her hands in front of her, and slashed at him with her nails. All the while she wondered where Jake was. Why hadn’t he come to her aid? Had they hurt him? Or worse?

  He caught her wrists. “Let go of me!” she shouted.

  Her shout was cut short by a gloved hand slapped over her mouth hard enough to cut her lip. “Shut up.”

  Leigh fought for her life. She knew if he got those cuffs on her, her fate would be sealed.

  A dark shadow rushed them from the side. She heard the sound of something solid slamming into flesh. The man grunted, but the sound was cut short when a booted foot landed solidly on the side of his head. His head pitched violently back. A final kick sent the man sprawling into the snow.

  Strong hands reached for her. She scrambled away, got to her hands and knees, tried to get her feet under her.

  “Jake!” She shouted his name when the hands closed over her shoulders.

  “Leigh. It’s me. Calm down.”

  Jake.

  “You’re safe,” he said.

  Still shaking, she looked over to see Jake cuffing the man’s hands behind him. But his eyes were on her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “You mean aside from a near heart attack?”

  Rising, he offered his hand. “There are more where he came from,” he said, looking down at the man lying cuffed on the ground. “We need to leave. Now.”

  The next thing she knew he was pulling her to her feet and into a dead run toward the truck. Leigh couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. How could Rasmussen possibly have known where to find them?

  At the truck Jake opened her door and shoved her inside. “Get on the floor. Don’t argue.”

  Leigh slid from the seat and knelt on the floor-board, her heart hammering like a piston against her ribs. Jake slid behind the wheel and started the engine. He didn’t turn on the lights as he started down the lane.

  “What the hell were you doing outside?” he asked.

  “I…I needed to use the facilities. He came at me out of nowhere.” A shudder moved through her when she remembered how easily the man had overpowered her. “How did you know?”

  “You shouting your head off was a dead giveaway.”

  Leigh shook her head. “How did they find us?”

  “They’ve been tracking us all along.”

  “What?”

  “They’re using a high-tech GPS device deployed via a special bullet designed to withstand high impact and attach itself to the target.”

  “My God.” She listened, fear vibrating through her as he explained how the miniature GPS transmitters worked. “How did you figure that out?”

  “I called a friend.”

  “A friend at MIDNIGHT?”

  “Zack Devlin knows electronics.”

  “Does that mean Mike Madrid didn’t give us up?”

  Jake grimaced. “Probably.”

  She thought about that a moment. “Is Rasmussen still able to track us?”

  “I removed all the transmitters I could find.” He sent her a dark look. “Let’s just hope I didn’t miss one.”

  Sliding onto the seat, she pressed her hand against her stomach, feeling sick. “I thought they had hurt you. I thought they had—”

  “They didn’t,” he said. “Don’t even go there.”

  Fighting back tears, Leigh looked out at the vast darkness. What would she have done back there without Jake? “You saved my life,” she said.

  “I did what I had to do to get us out of there.”

  When she had her emotions under control, she turned to face him. “Rasmussen is not going to stop. He’s evil and obsessed and seems to have every resource at his fingertips.”

  “Every federal and state law enforcement agency within a five-hundred-mile radius is looking for him, Leigh.”

  “He’s too smart to get caught, Jake. You know that as well as I do.”

  His jaw flexed. “He may be smart, but he’s not invincible.”

  “Money and connections buy an awful lot of invincible.”

  “Sooner or later his obsession with you will get the best of him. He’ll make a mistake. When he does, I’m going to make damn sure I’m there to take him down.”

  As the dark landscape whizzed by, all Leigh could think was that she hoped they lived long enough to do just that.

  AFTER THE AMBUSH back at the grain elevator, Jake hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the rearview mirror, certain he’d missed at least one of the GPS transmitters that had penetrated the body of the truck. But as the night wore on and Rasmussen’s thugs didn’t show, he began to think that perhaps he’d gotten them all.

  He was working on forty-eight hours without sleep, and by noon he was feeling every minute of fatigue. They needed a place to rest and eat and sleep. Damn it, Leigh was right. They needed a plan. Desperate and exhausted, he decided to take her to the only place he could think of.

  He hadn’t been to the Thunder Cove Marina for almost two months. It had been even longer since he’d sailed. But he’d kept the Stormy C. in the water, just in case.

  It was nearly dusk and snowing in earnest when he parked the truck in a spot hidden from the street. On the seat next to him, Leigh thrashed in her sleep. She’d done that a lot since leaving the grain elevator. Jake set his hand on her shoulder. “Leigh.”

  She sat up abruptly, her eyes wide with fear. Then she blinked at him, pulled herself together.

  “You’re all right.” He touched her arm and was surprised to feel her trembling. “It was just a bad dream.”

  Even tousled, exhausted and scared, she was beautiful.

  “I can’t believe I fell asleep.” She looked around. “Where are we?”

  “Thunder Cove,” he said.

  “I have no idea where that is.”

  “Lake Michigan. I keep my sailboat here.”

  “A little cold for sailing, isn’t it?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, but the boat will be warm inside.”

  “Looks deserted.”

  “Not many people out this time of year. Nobody knows I keep a boat here. We can eat, grab a shower, get some sleep.” He could sure as hell use al
l those things. “Maybe afterward we can come up with some kind of plan.”

  When she didn’t say anything he reached out and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Just a little jumpy.”

  “Bullets tend to do that to a person.”

  It was her turn to smile, but he didn’t miss the shadows in her eyes. He wished he could take those shadows away. He wished even more fervently that the circumstances were different.

  Sighing, Jake opened the door. The frigid wind coming off the lake struck him like a glass of ice water. He went to open Leigh’s door, but she was already sliding to the ground. He motioned toward the chain-link gate and the marina beyond.

  “I didn’t know you had a boat,” she said as they headed toward the gate.

  “I don’t sail much anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Never make time.” Jake used his key and opened the gate.

  “There aren’t many boats in the water.”

  “Most people store their vessels in dry dock during the winter season. Ice can damage the hulls.”

  “You don’t have yours stored?”

  “I haven’t had it taken out of the water yet this year.”

  “What about the ice?”

  “I have what’s called a bubble system installed. Keeps the water surrounding the hull from freezing.”

  They started down the wooden floating dock. The slip where Jake kept the Stormy C. was located at the end of the second row. She was a sleek twenty-eight-foot Beneteau 285 he’d bought used three years earlier. He’d always dreamed of owning a sailboat. Now that he had one, the job kept him so busy he rarely sailed.

  Jake stepped onto the deck and offered his hand to Leigh. “Be careful. It’s slick.”

  She accepted his hand and followed. “Looks like we’re in for more snow.”

  “Lake effect,” he said. “Welcome to Michigan in November.”

  Her hand was like ice within his. He found himself not wanting to let it go. Not now. Not ever. But Jake didn’t have the luxury of indulging in the pleasure of holding her hand. Not when there was a killer with both of them in his sights.