Kitabı oku: «Operation: Midnight Tango», sayfa 3

Silence shrilled for the span of a full minute.

“This briefing is over,” Underwood snapped.

The team members rose quickly, gathered their weapons and gear and filed out the door.

Dr. Lionel was in the process of gathering his notes when Underwood approached him. “Were you able to locate and remove the GPS device before he got away?” Underwood asked.

“It had been implanted just under the skin.” The doctor pulled a sealed plastic bag from the file and held it up. “I extracted it just a few minutes before he overpowered me.”

Underwood took the bag and studied the tiny device. “Looks to be state of the art.”

“It is. But without it, whatever agency he’s working for won’t be able to locate him.”

The lieutenant approached the two men. “Devlin doesn’t stand a chance in a storm like this with seven of my best men tracking him.”

“You had better be right.” Underwood looked at Dr. Lionel. “I do not want our progress on RZ-902 interrupted.”

The doctor nodded. “We’re moving on to the next phase as planned.”

“Excellent. You know how I feel about delays.” Dropping the GPS device on the floor, Marcus Underwood crushed it with his shoe. “I hate waiting almost as much as I hate loose ends.”

Chapter Four

Zack pushed the snowmobile to a dangerous speed, zipping between trees and treacherous outcroppings of rock. The machine beneath him screeched like a mechanical banshee. Wind and snow battered his body and face shield. Even over the roar of wind he could hear the rotors of the helicopter overhead. He could see the spotlight sweeping down like a white tornado. If they were spotted, it would be over. Not only for him but for the woman he’d dragged into this.

Cursing beneath his breath, he punched off the single headlight. Behind him Emily tensed. “You can’t drive this thing without headlights!”

There was no other choice. The headlights made them sitting ducks. Blanketed in darkness, it took all his concentration to steer around the trees and jutting rock. He silently prayed he wouldn’t run them into some immovable object. At this speed, an accident would be fatal.

“I know what I’m doing,” he said.

He remembered from the map he’d studied of the area surrounding the prison that the main road leading to the small, rural town of Salmon was straight ahead. He was familiar enough with law-enforcement tactics to recognize they were setting up a perimeter. That there would be roadblocks. The map had shown a less-traveled dirt road that would take them west into the Bitterroot Mountains. The terrain would be rough, but with a chopper hovering just a few hundred yards away, Zack didn’t have a choice but to take it.

The road forked. Without slowing down or hesitating, Zack veered left. Trees and rock formations blew past as he pushed the snowmobile at a reckless speed down the narrow road. He was putting them in a perilous position, but getting shot at seemed even more dangerous, so he leaned forward and put the pedal to the metal.

There were no towns to the west. Just the vast wilderness of the Salmon National Forest. If they were lucky, they might be able to find a ranch and get to a phone. But even if they did, Zack wasn’t sure whom to call. Clearly someone at the agency had sold him out. He didn’t have a clue who or why. But he was going to find out. And then he was going to take great pleasure in breaking every bone in their body.

Of course, before he could do that he had to stay alive. That meant losing the chopper.

He ducked instinctively when the powerful spotlight swept over them. He twisted the throttle, trying to squeeze more power from the snowmobile, but the engine was running at its peak. Damn it!

The spotlight swept over them again, only this time it held.

“They’ve spotted us!” Emily cried.

“Not for long,” Zack fired back. “Hold tight.”

He swerved right and for an instant they were hidden beneath the canopy of pines that grew along the road. But the spotlight latched onto them again when they burst from the cover of the trees.

Snow being kicked up from the chopper’s rotors blinded him, but Zack held the handlebars steady and managed to keep the snowmobile on the road using the treetops as his point of reference. The chopper was flying low and bearing down on them, getting closer and closer….

Suddenly a bullet blew a hole through the Plexiglas windshield. Fear notched up into cold, hard terror at the realization there was at least one sharpshooter on board the chopper. And that he and Emily were in his crosshairs. He didn’t know if there were enough trees up ahead to provide ample cover. If he didn’t do something quickly, they would be shot….

Then the windshield exploded. Plexiglas blew back, pelting his face shield and chest. Through the driving wind and snow Zack spotted an opening in the trees off to his right. “Hang on!” he shouted and drove off the road.

The snowmobile bumped over some fallen logs and snow-covered rocks the size of basketballs. He felt Emily tighten her grip. Even through the pandemonium of the out-of-control ride and the knowledge that certain death was only a tiny miscalculation away, Zack vowed to keep her safe. She might be employed by Lockdown, Inc., but he didn’t think she was involved with the RZ-902. She sure as hell hadn’t asked for this.

A rock the size of a Volkswagen came at them seemingly out of nowhere. Zack turned hard to the left. The snowmobile tilted at a precarious angle, but he leaned into the turn and managed to keep it upright. He glanced behind him, looking for the chopper, and saw with some surprise that it was nowhere in sight.

“Do you see the chopper?” he shouted.

“I think it went straight when we went into the trees,” Emily answered.

That wouldn’t last long. Chances were, the Lockdown people were equipped with night-vision equipment. They probably had infrared technology, as well, which worked much the same way only using body heat instead of light. In the snow, he and Emily would stand out like neon beacons.

Zack glanced down at the gas gauge, which had been on E since leaving the prison maintenance building. The best he could hope for would be that they had enough to get them out of the immediate area.

The trees had opened up and Zack drove the snowmobile like a madman. Even though the headlights were off, he could see that they’d entered what looked like an old ski slope. The terrain was sloped severely, but it was clear of trees for the most part. He took the snowmobile up the mountain at an angle.

The snow was coming down in earnest now. If the bad weather continued, there was a good possibility the chopper would be grounded. If they could reach a house or flag down a passing motorist, they might just get out of this alive.

The hope evaporated like a snowflake in the sun when the snowmobile jerked violently. Too late Zack saw the looming cliff. He applied the brake and yanked the handlebars hard to the right. Snow spewed high into the air as the big machine pivoted. To his left he saw the black vastness of space, but they were still on solid ground. For a moment he thought they were going to make it. Then the snow crumbled beneath them.

“Jump!” he shouted to Emily.

The warning came too late. The snowmobile plummeted downward. The engine whined as the machine went into a free fall.

Emily screamed. The terror in her voice pierced him like a dagger. He wanted to turn to her, tell her he hadn’t meant for this to happen. He hadn’t meant for her to get hurt….

Then the snowmobile tumbled into a nosedive, and Zack couldn’t do anything but pray.

EMILY WASN’T SURE how or when she’d lost her grip on Devlin; she’d been holding on tightly just a moment before. Now she was flying through the air, barreling toward an inevitable impact that would surely kill them both. Damn convict. If she’d had a gun, she would have pulled it out and shot him.

She slammed into the ground hard and lost her breath. She heard a crash nearby, then the world went silent and still. For several seconds she lay there, trying to get oxygen into her lungs. When she opened her eyes, she saw heavy snow swirling down. The tops of the pines were swaying. She could hear the wind whistling through the branches.

She’d fallen into deep snow, which had cushioned her fall. Shifting slightly, she took a quick physical inventory and ascertained she was relatively injury-free. Groaning, she rolled onto her side, sat up and looked around.

She was sitting on a steeply sloped incline in two feet of snow next to a broken sapling pine and a big chunk of the snowmobile’s fairing that had been ripped off in the fall. Twenty feet away the snowmobile lay on its side, the engine sizzling and smoking like an overcooked steak.

Slowly Emily got to her feet. Her arms and legs shook as she brushed the snow from her clothes. She glanced up and saw they’d gone off the cliff and down about twenty feet. A long way to fall. She was fortunate to have survived unscathed and wondered if Devlin had been so lucky.

“Devlin?” she called out.

She stood motionless and listened for a response, but none came. Even though Devlin was an escaped convict who had taken her hostage and nearly gotten her killed, the thought of being out here in the middle of nowhere all alone was unnerving. Especially since she was becoming more and more certain there was something sinister and deadly going on at Lockdown, Inc.

She was going to have to climb down to where the snowmobile lay to check on Devlin. Emily started toward the ledge. “Devlin, you had better be alive,” she muttered beneath her breath as she plowed through deep snow. “Because I’m going to wring your neck with my bare—”

The sound of a breaking twig cut her words short. Gasping, Emily spun—and found herself staring into Zack Devlin’s eyes. For the first time since he’d taken her hostage, he looked shaken. His face was pale against his dark hair. Blood was trickling down from a cut at his temple. How badly had he been injured?

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

The question took her aback. She didn’t expect him to be worried about her well-being one way or another. “Considering you just tried to kill me by driving off a cliff, I’d say I’m doing better than expected. What the hell were you trying to pull?”

“Maybe you’d rather take a bullet in the back.”

She didn’t have a comeback for that. Whomever had been in that chopper had been shooting at them. And they hadn’t seemed too concerned about which of them they hit. A deeply disturbing fact.

“If it hadn’t been for me, your pals back at the prison would have turned you into Swiss cheese,” he said.

“They were shooting at you,” she said. “In case you’re wondering, that’s standard operating procedure when an inmate takes an officer hostage and escapes.”

He glanced away from her and looked up at the sky as if gauging the storm. He had a strong profile with a straight nose and chiseled mouth. Emily wasn’t sure why, but the sight of his lips made her think of the kiss in the prison locker room. Remembering it right now was ridiculously inappropriate considering the situation. But neither of those things changed what the kiss had done to her….

Tearing her gaze away from him, Emily brushed the last of the snow from her coat and slacks and looked around. Under different circumstances she might have enjoyed the beauty of the night. The heavy snowfall was lovely against the backdrop of the mountain forest and night sky. But standing out in the middle of nowhere with an escaped convict who’d nearly gotten her killed removed any discernible pleasure.

“We lucked out,” he said. “The chopper must have been grounded because of the storm.”

“Oh, yes, I’m feeling luckier by the second,” she said dryly. “If we’re really lucky, we’ll be buried alive with snow by morning.”

The look he gave her caused the hairs on her arms to prickle. A different kind of uneasiness rose inside her. Emily wasn’t familiar with his background or what he’d done. It had to be brutal, savage, for him to end up in the Bitterroot Super Max. She didn’t want to think about what he was capable of. Or what he might do to her…

Refusing to let the thought spook her, she stuck out her chin and gave him a hard look. “So what do you propose we do now, Einstein?”

“First and foremost, we stay alive.”

That might be very difficult under the circumstances. Emily refused to go there.

He sighed, motioned toward the tear in the sleeve of her coat. “At some point I’ll need to take a look at that bullet wound.”

Between dodging bullets and crashing the snowmobile, she’d pushed the pain in her arm to the back of her mind. But now that he’d mentioned it, she could feel the stinging and burning of the bullet wound, the wet stickiness of the blood.

“Why don’t you just make a run for it while you can?” she said.

Her heart sped up when he stepped close to her. “Because I didn’t risk my life breaking out of that hellhole to run.”

“You don’t need me,” she said. “Just go and leave me here.”

“If they find you here or anywhere else, you’re as good as dead.”

“They wouldn’t—”

“They would,” he said sharply. “Do you think that bullet wound in your arm was an accident?”

“I think the SORT team marksman was trying to stop you. I got in the way.”

“In case you’ve forgotten what happened in the locker room, let me refresh your memory. Three men. One of them had a syringe with your name on it. He was going to shoot you up with some kind of truth serum, for God’s sake. Then who knows what was next on the agenda.”

Emily wanted to deny it but couldn’t. She’d seen the syringe. She’d seen the looks on the men’s faces. And she’d known what they’d been about to do. But why?

“They think I helped you escape,” she said dully.

“They think you know something you shouldn’t.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like why inmates at the Bitterroot Super Max have been dying under mysterious circumstances for the last six months.”

Something was going on at the prison. In the last six months, she’d personally known of at least two inmates dying unexpectedly. That was why she’d been asking questions. That was why she’d been in the infirmary that morning to begin with.

But to believe the people she’d worked with for the last three years were capable of murder was unthinkable. How did Devlin know about it? There appeared to be a lot more to Zack Devlin than met the eye.

“How do you know inmates have been dying?” she asked.

“I know because for the last four months I’ve watched men systematically disappear. Healthy men who are sent to the infirmary. Most come back to their cells deathly ill. Some of them don’t come back at all.”

Was Devlin just a smooth-talking liar whose very freedom hinged on manipulating her into helping him?

But in her heart Emily knew something was going on at the prison. She just didn’t know what.

Things aren’t always what they appear….

“What’s happening to them?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

He turned his gaze to hers. She saw a weariness that hadn’t been there before and wondered about its source. “Horrors you can only imagine in your worst nightmares,” he said.

Emily stared at him, aware that she was frightened. And that the fear didn’t have anything to do with the man standing so close she could see the stubble on his cheek. Deep inside she knew that despite whatever this man might have done, he was not lying about Lockdown, Inc.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m the man who’s going to try to save your life, if you’ll let me.”

“You’re a dangerous fugitive. You’ve taken me hostage—”

“And you’d be dead right now if I hadn’t gotten you out of there.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“They would have killed you the same way they’ve killed countless others in the last six months.”

Looking suddenly tired, he raised his hand and touched the cut on his temple. His lips pulled into a frown when his fingertips came away red. He wiped it on his slacks and looked around. “Look, we need to put some distance between us and that prison. Then we need to find shelter. I have a feeling the weather is going to get worse before it gets any better.”

“I deserve an explanation.”

“You deserve to stay alive.” He turned to her, his expression tense. “They’re probably putting together a search team as we speak.”

“No professional in his right mind would send out search teams in this storm.”

“No, but a madman would. The people at Lockdown, Inc. have too much at stake to let us get away.”

“You keep using the term us,” Emily choked out. “Unless you have a mouse in your pock—”

“Like it or not, you are now on Lockdown, Inc.’s most-wanted list. Your only chance of coming out of this alive is to stick with me. If the storm doesn’t get too much worse, we might be able to outdistance them. Then maybe I can get us some help.”

“Help from whom?”

He looked away, his jaw flexing, as if her question had more ramifications than she’d intended. “We’ve got to go,” he said. “In another hour there may not be any visibility at all.” He shot her a look that made the hair at her nape prickle. “That’s the best-case scenario, Emily. If the weather improves, this area is going to be crawling with heavily armed cops with itchy trigger fingers. If they get their hands on us, we’re going to wish we hadn’t survived the plunge off that cliff.”

Chapter Five

Zack tried to restart the snowmobile, but the tumble down the cliff had damaged both the track shoes and the engine. After wasting precious minutes, he abandoned the idea and he and Emily set off on foot.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that neither of them was dressed for hiking in severe weather conditions. No hats. No gloves. No waterproof boots. It would be only a matter of time before the cold took its toll in the form of frostbite or hypothermia. Two problems Zack figured they could do without considering the mountain was swarming with armed men bent on killing them.

“What the hell else can possibly go wrong?” he muttered as he trudged through knee-deep snow.

“Mother Nature could always make things a little more interesting.”

Zack shot Emily a sour look, annoyed because she was right. In the last hour the wind had picked up, whistling through the treetops like a thousand teakettles. The snow was coming down sideways. His ears were cold. His feet were numb. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was pretty sure they were lost.

He’d memorized the map given to him by his superior at MIDNIGHT as he’d prepared for the mission. Avery Shaw had made certain Zack had had everything he needed for the operation. Maps of the prison. Terrain maps of the surrounding area. Background reports on Lockdown, Inc.’s employees and inmates.

A bloody lot of good those things were doing him when he couldn’t see but a few feet in front of his face.

But Zack knew most storms in this part of Idaho blew in from the northwest. He and Emily were heading into the wind, so he could assume they were heading northwest. He recalled seeing a notation on the map that there was an abandoned ski lodge somewhere in the area. It had been popular back in the 1960s but later abandoned. Hopefully the old place was still standing. If he and Emily were really lucky, there would be no welcoming committee from Lockdown, Inc. waiting to gun them down.

A few feet away he could see Emily struggling through the wind and deep snow. Even though she seemed to be in relatively good physical condition, she was smaller and suffering from a bullet wound. He could only imagine how grueling this was for her.

“I think there’s an old ski lodge ahead,” he shouted to be heard above the roar of the wind.

Through the driving snow he saw her glance his way. “You mean the old Capello Hills Lodge?”

“Is it still standing?”

“Barely. I’ve never seen it, but a couple of the other corrections officers hiked up there last summer while on a rock-climbing excursion.”

Zack tossed her a furtive glance. She was only a few feet away, but he could barely make out her silhouette in the blinding snow. Dangerous conditions for even the most seasoned outdoorsman. It would take only an instant for them to become separated. Ideally he would tie a rope to her. Since he was fresh out of rope, he opted for the next best thing.

“Give me your hand!” he shouted, walking toward her.

Even with the poor visibility he saw the astonishment on her face. “What?”

“So we don’t get separated.” Without waiting for her to respond, he reached for her.

She initially resisted, then her hand relaxed within his. Her skin was like ice. Lord in heaven, she was nearly frostbitten.

Wishing he could do something to keep her warm, he tugged her along at a faster pace. “Let’s make some time,” he said, praying he could find the lodge before it was too late.

DAWN BROKE AS DARK AND gray as a partial solar eclipse, but the light did little to improve visibility. The snow was still coming down hard, and visibility had dwindled to less than five feet. If it hadn’t been for the shift in the pitch of the whistling wind, Zack would have walked right past the Capello Hills Lodge without even seeing it. But from twenty yards away, he discerned the change as the wind whipped around the portico. Finally they’d found the shelter they so desperately needed.

“Jackpot,” Zack said.

Emily had been lagging behind for the last hour. Zack hoped her slow pace was due to the punishing conditions and not the bullet wound. He wasn’t particularly fond of corrections officers at the moment, but he didn’t want her hurt. One woman’s death on his conscience was about all he could handle….

Not allowing himself to think of the past, he took her to the open area beneath the portico where the building blocked most of the wind. Capello Hills Lodge had obviously once been magnificent, but no more. The glass in the front windows was long gone, replaced with plywood that had weathered badly. The once-rustic siding was warped and rotted. Some joker had nailed a No Trespassing sign to the front door.

Not bloody likely, Zack thought and tore the sign from its nails and tossed it into the snow. He tried the door but it didn’t budge. He couldn’t tell if it was locked or warped, but he wasn’t going to let either of those things keep him out.

“Stand back,” he said.

Emily moved away. “We could try the ba—”

Zack landed a single solid kick to the door. It swung open. Dust motes exploded when it banged against the wall. Wishing for his sidearm, he stepped inside and motioned for Emily to follow.

He closed the door behind them, then stood quietly and listened, hoping they were alone. He could still hear the storm raging outside, but the sudden silence of being out of the wind was profound enough to make his ears ring. He turned to Emily to tell her to stay put while he took a look around, but the sight of her stopped him cold. Her hair was wet and she was shaking furiously. Her face was ghastly pale. She probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer out in the cold.

“You’re bloody hypothermic,” he said, his voice coming more roughly than he’d intended.

“I’m j-just c-cold.”

He took her arm to guide her to the massive hearth. She surprised him by shaking off his touch and glaring at him. He found himself staring into eyes the color of aged whiskey. Her mouth was full and sensuously shaped, like a pale ruby set into ivory. The combination of those two things socked him in the gut like a fist, and he found himself wanting to do a hell of a lot more than just touch her….

“In case you haven’t noticed,” she said, “I’m cold and wet and very ticked off. I’ve been shot at and lied to by people I once trusted. I’ve been driven off a cliff. Dragged through a snowstorm by an escaped convict. And I have a bullet wound in my arm.” Eyes flashing, she stepped closer to him and jammed her finger in his chest with enough force to push him back a step. “I want to know what the hell is going on. And I want to know right now.”

Zack stared at her for an interminable moment. A measure of relief went through him when he saw that some of the color had returned to her cheeks. He wondered how long that would last once he told her what her pals back at Lockdown, Inc. were up to.

She wasn’t going to like it, but she deserved the truth. Thanks to him, Marcus Underwood and his army of goons were trying to kill her, too. Now it was Zack’s responsibility to keep her safe.

The thought twisted his gut, made him feel a little sick. The last time he’d tried to keep a woman safe, she’d ended up dead. Would he fail Emily, too?

“I’m going to build a fire,” he said. “Then we’ll talk.”

EMILY WATCHED ZACK FEED wood to the fire blazing in the floor-to-ceiling river-rock hearth and tried not to relive everything that had happened in the last four hours—and not to imagine what might happen next. Born and raised in this part of Idaho, she’d seen enough winter storms in her life to know that no one was going to show up to rescue her. Not the police. Not the FBI. Not even the highly trained prison SORT team employed by Lockdown, Inc.

She was on her own.

What she needed more than anything was answers. She needed to know who Zack Devlin was and why he’d taken her hostage. Even more, she needed to know why the prison marksmen had been shooting at her. Why Marcus Underwood and Dr. Lionel had been within an inch of injecting her with truth serum. Why inmates were mysteriously dying…

Shuddering at the possibilities, she looked across the room at Devlin and wondered what secrets were buried beneath all those layers of Irish charm. Was he a dangerous, cold-blooded killer? Who was he really?

Things aren’t always what they appear….

What had he meant by that?

“That ought to keep us from getting hypothermia.”

Emily looked up at the sound of his voice to see him standing a few feet away, watching her with an unnerving intensity. The irises of his eyes were so dark they were nearly black. A day’s growth of stubble shadowed his jaw. The cut on his forehead stood out in stark contrast against his skin. Having worked the last three years as a corrections officer in a maximum-security prison, Emily had dealt with plenty of ruthless, brutal men. But staring into Zack Devlin’s glittering eyes, she thought he seemed by far the most dangerous.

They studied each other for an uncomfortable moment. Emily could hear the wind tearing around the old lodge. Something flapped rhythmically against the exterior window, like a ghost hammering at a nail. The entire place seemed to shudder with every gust of wind.

But even though the man standing across from her radiated danger, she felt strangely safe….

“Why don’t you have a seat by the fire and let me take a look at that bullet wound?” he said.

The thought of getting closer to the fire appealed, but Emily was nervous about Devlin touching her—for reasons she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here. If that wound is bad, it could get infected and make you sick.”

He was right. An untreated bullet wound could lead to infection, which could be serious. “As long as you can talk and administer first aid at the same time.”

“I’ll see if I can find some supplies I can use to get it cleaned up.” Turning away, he strode through an arched doorway.

She watched his retreat, then rose and wandered around. The main room was cavernous, with high ceilings and massive rustic beams. Arched windows ran from floor to ceiling. The floor was made of parquet and stone and littered with years of dust and small debris. Holes marred the walls where fixtures and wall hangings had once been. But it was the stone hearth that dominated the room. Forty years ago the place would have been magnificent.

The scent of burning wood hung pleasantly in the air. Despite the fire, the room was still freezing, so she crossed to the bench he’d dragged to the fireplace and sat. The warmth felt wonderful against her skin. Her feet were numb. She looked down at her hands. They were red and aching from cold. Her hair and coat were damp. She was in the process of taking off her coat when Zack returned, his hands full.

“This must be our lucky day,” he said.

Emily didn’t feel very lucky. In fact, she thought this was one of the worst days of her life. “Did you find first-aid supplies?” she asked.

“I melted a little snow in this plastic container. I found a bar of guest soap. And last but not least, a bottle of vintage 1981 cognac.”

“I don’t think cognac is going to help our situation.”

“Quite the contrary.”

She tensed when he sat on the bench beside her and began to open the bottle. “This isn’t for drinking, though I might just have a nip considering the age of this bottle.”

“If you’re not going to drink it, what do you plan to do with it? Blow up something?”

“Cognac has a high volume of alcohol,” he said. “It will burn like the dickens, but it will disinfect your wound.” One side of his mouth hiked and he grinned like a scoundrel. “If you’re game, we can drink the rest.”

Emily refused to let herself be charmed. This man had taken her hostage. Thrown her in the line of fire. Risked her life to save his own. Kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before, an annoying little voice reminded. The memory of the kiss heated her cheeks. She desperately wanted to deny the effect it had had on her. But Emily had always been honest with herself, and Zack’s kiss had moved her in ways no other kiss ever had in all of her twenty-eight years. What kind of woman enjoyed a kiss from a convict?