Читать книгу Operation: Midnight Guardian - Linda Castillo - Страница 10

Cutter was no stranger to pain. While the Kevlar vest had saved his life, it hadn’t prevented the bullet from doing a number on his ribs. The vial of fake blood had helped fool them into believing he was mortally wounded, giving him the chance to start the engine fire as a diversion. But with no weapon, no radio, and four well-armed killers to deal with, staying alive would surely prove to be a tad more difficult.

But it was Mattie Logan who was foremost in his mind as he hurried down the deer trail in search of her. He could hear the men shouting in the distance and knew it would be only a matter of time before they caught up with her. Within minutes of capturing her they would load her onto the chopper and cross the border into Canada. He had no intention of letting that happen.

He turned right at a jut of rock and poured on the speed. Agony tore through his chest with every breath, but he didn’t slow down. He didn’t let himself think about the pain or the odds he faced. He had to find Logan before the terrorists did….

Operating on little more than animal instinct, he ran toward the tall, dense piñon pines. Logan had fled southwest. If he held his direction, he would intercept her. Hopefully before the others did. But Cutter knew finding her wasn’t the toughest challenge he faced. The hard part was going to be getting out of there without getting shot….

The sound of footsteps sent him diving for cover in a blanket of juniper. Peering through the foliage, he caught a glimpse of blond hair and pale skin. He heard the hiss of panicked breaths rushing through clenched teeth.

Logan.

He caught her arm as she passed. Carried by the momentum of her sprint, she stumbled and nearly fell, but Cutter caught her. He slapped a hand over her mouth, catching the scream that would have revealed their position. He felt an impression of soft skin and small bones within his grasp. The hint of lemon and rosemary in silky hair as she swung around. But all of those things were punctuated by panic and terror. A dangerous state if he didn’t gain control of the situation pronto.

No time to take her to the ground and subdue her. No time for an explanation. For an instant, she fought back like an animal snared in the deadly teeth of a steel trap. He made eye contact and gave her a hard shake. “If you want to live, come with me,” he said in a low voice.

She went still and blinked at him as if waking from a bad dream. “I…I thought you were d-dead.”

“So did they, evidently.” He looked over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” he said and hauled her into a dead run.

A DEAD MAN had saved her life.

It was the only thought Mattie’s brain could manage. She didn’t know how, but somehow Cutter had survived a gunshot to the chest. Though at the moment, running from men bent on killing them, she didn’t necessarily care.

Snow and sleet blinded her as she ran. It took every ounce of physical ability she possessed to keep up with Cutter and maintain her footing. One tiny miscalculation and she would fall—a mistake that would surely prove deadly.

It felt as if they had been running forever. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion. Mattie didn’t know how she kept going. The primal will to live.

“Whoa. Easy.”

She felt a hard tug on her hand. Cutter was pulling her back, slowing her down.

“Can’t…stop,” she panted.

“It’s okay.”

“They’ll kill us.”

“I’m not going to let them kill anyone.”

Mattie looked over her shoulder, but the trail they’d just traveled was deserted. She listened for footsteps, but the only sound came from their labored breathing and the soft thud of sleet against the ground.

Giving her a look that told her he was too damn beat to give chase if she decided to take off, Cutter released her, then bent at the hip to gulp air. “We need to rest, catch our breath.”

Mattie thought about running, but her legs had evidently decided they’d had enough exertion for one day. When she started to walk away, her knees buckled. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, and for a moment she could do nothing but breathe.

“Take a moment to catch your breath. Then we’ve got to keep moving.”

Mattie raised her head and glared at him. “It’s going to take a lot longer than a moment for me to catch my breath.”

They’d stopped in a small clearing. The boughs of the piñon pines were covered with snow. Mattie wondered if they’d gained elevation. If that was why it seemed colder, the air thinner and more difficult to breathe.

“Come on.” Cutter crossed to her and extended his hand. “Time to go.”

Mattie considered refusing his hand. But she wasn’t sure she could rise on her own, so she reached for him. “Back at the chopper, how did you manage the fire?”

“I didn’t.” He pulled her to her feet. “What you saw was a smoke grenade. A diversion.”

No, she thought. He was no ordinary cop. But if he wasn’t a cop what agency was he with? CIA? Homeland Security? She wondered why he had been sent to take her back. Why not local law enforcement? Why not the FBI or the U.S. Marshals Service.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m the man who’s going to keep you alive.” His icy blue eyes burned into hers. “Right now, that’s all you need to know.”

THE SON OF A BITCH had beaten him at his own game once again.

The Jaguar paced the snow-covered ground with the sleek elegance of his namesake. Dark anticipation and a keen sense of unfinished business had him feeling restless and edgy. Not only was Sean Cutter alive, but he was psychologically and physically sound and working for the CIA again. That more than anything surprised The Jaguar. By all rights, the man should be dead. At the very least he should be locked in a padded cell.

He and the federal agent went way back, but their relationship was far from amicable. Cutter was the only man The Jaguar had not been able to break. Even under torture, the agent had maintained his silence. He’d defied a black art form The Jaguar had made his business and built a reputation upon. The sense of failure had nagged at him for two years. This time, he would make certain Sean Cutter talked, then was tortured and killed.

Bracing himself against the cold north wind, The Jaguar lit a cigarette and walked to the chopper, where two of his men were working on the engine.

“What is the status?” he asked.

“Operable.”

“Excellent.”

“The smoke was evidently from a smoke grenade and did little damage to the engine.”

A diversion, he thought. How very like Sean Cutter… Hatred churned inside him. He looked up at the swirling snow, felt the dark anticipation stir. “Is the chopper equipped with infrared?”

The other man smiled. “The American government spares no expense when it comes to hunting down those who would question their absolute power.”

The Jaguar nodded. “I want the scientist and Sean Cutter. I want them alive. And I want them now.”

“The weather could be a problem.”

He turned his gaze on the other man. “The last man who questioned my wishes lasted for fourteen hours in my torture chamber. When I tired of his screams I shot him. Perhaps you want to test your endurance?”

The other man looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing twice in quick succession. “I am merely looking out for your safety.”

“That would best be done once we’re airborne.”

“I understand.”

The Jaguar scanned the rugged countryside, feeling an uncomfortable urgency to finish what should already have been done. “They couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Not on foot and in this weather. They have no gear. No weapon or radio.”

The Jaguar said nothing. But he knew the other man underestimated Sean Cutter. He himself had underestimated the federal agent two years ago. He would not make the same mistake twice.

CUTTER HAD NO PROBLEM with risking his life for the safety and security of the American people. What he didn’t like was the idea of risking his life for the likes of a traitor like Mattie Logan. He had zero tolerance for anyone low enough to betray their country.

She might look like an angel with her wide eyes and porcelain skin; she might even be one of the most stunning women he’d ever laid eyes on. But physical beauty made no difference to Cutter when it came to treachery.

He stared at her, keenly aware of her proximity, that she smelled good, that her complexion was as pale and flawless as a child’s. But there was nothing even remotely childlike about the rest of her. Her eyes were deep and blue and filled with a woman’s secrets. Within their depths he saw the remnants of terror and a jumble of emotions held on a taut rein. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, but several strands had fallen free to frame her face. Strands his fingers itched to brush aside.

She possessed the kind of beauty that blinded a man. The kind of sexual appeal that made even a smart man do stupid things. All for the sound of her laughter or the promise of a touch. An element that made her every bit as dangerous as the terrorists aiming to kill them.

Ignoring the uncomfortable tug of something he didn’t want to identify, Cutter turned away. “Let’s move. Chances are they’re going to use the chopper to search for us.”

“But won’t the storm ground them?”

“It would if we were dealing with a sane person.” He shot her a sober look. “In case you’re not reading between the lines here, we’re not.”

“But they don’t have a pilot. They shot him.”

Impatient with her questions, he took her hand and pulled her into a jog. “The Jaguar wouldn’t have shot him if he didn’t have a backup pilot.”

“The Jaguar?”

He hadn’t meant to say the name aloud. Just hearing it sent a chill up his spine. Even after two years he could recall what it had been like to be helpless and hurting and look into the other man’s eyes and see pure evil.

“Stop talking and start moving,” he snapped. “Faster.”

She complied, but Cutter knew there was little chance of them outdistancing The Jaguar’s men. The terrorist surrounded himself with the most brutal men in the world. Men who would risk it all to advance whatever twisted beliefs had transformed them into terrorists.

Cutter had been in worse situations and still come out alive. But with a storm moving in and killers hot on their trail, survival seemed a long shot at best.

“Where are we going?”

He glanced over at his prisoner. She had snow in her hair. It clung to her thick eyelashes. Her cheeks were pink with cold, her eyes bright with fear. He wished she wasn’t so damn good to look at. The last thing he needed was a distraction….

“Right now we’re just trying to put some distance between us and those bastards with guns,” he said.

She was starting to breathe hard again. The way a woman did when she was in the throes of lovemaking. The image of her with her head thrown back, her body welcoming his, flashed unbidden in his mind’s eye. He imagined his hands on her body, her breaths coming short and fast as he worked her toward release….

Shoving the image aside, he picked up the pace. “Faster,” he said.

She struggled to keep up. “You never told me what agency you’re working for.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

“All you need to know is that I’m the man who’s going to save your life.”

“The way I see it, you’re the man who’s going to make sure I spend the rest of my life in prison for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“Save it for the judge, blondie.”

“The judge has already made his decision. A decision based on lies and planted evidence.”

“You got caught,” he snapped. “Deal with it, because you’re not going to get any sympathy from me. Got it?”

“What I got is railroaded. I can prove it, but not from inside a prison cell.”

“There are young men and women risking their lives every day to keep this country safe,” he snarled. “I don’t have any compassion for turncoats, so cut it out.”

For several minutes the only sound came from the pounding of their feet against the earth.

“You want to know what’s really frightening about all of this?” she asked.

“You have no idea what’s really frightening,” he said bitterly.

“The real culprit is still out there. They probably have access to the EDNA project. They’re probably trying to get their hands on the final-phase plans. And they’re probably still planning on selling the information when they do.”

Cutter stared hard at her, looking for the lie he knew was there. But the woman staring back at him had one of the most guileless faces he’d ever seen. He was not gullible when it came to female charms. Not by a long shot. But he could feel the draw to her. A draw that was part sexual, part…something else. Like a full moon pulling at a restless sea and causing a dangerously high tide.

Cutter was too smart to act on any of the crazy thoughts running through his head. He knew all too well what could happen when you mixed sex with an assignment. The last time he’d given in to temptation someone had ended up dead. He’d nearly been killed himself and had spent a good part of the next year wishing he hadn’t survived.

“Unless you want to end up dead,” he said, “you’ve got to keep moving.”

“Maybe that’s a better alternative to spending the rest of my life—”

His temper snapped. Stopping abruptly, he swung around to face her. Roughly he yanked her toward him so that her face was only inches from his. Close enough for him to smell the rosemary and lemon of her hair. He steeled himself against the sweet warmth of her breath against his face.