Operation: Midnight Tango (18 page)

“I felt that bullet go through her as if it had gone through me,” he said. “They shot her execution-style. She was killed instantly.”

“My God.”

“I figured I was next, but I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.”

“How did you get out?”

“Avery Shaw, who is my boss now, was an operative back then. Alisa had indeed gotten through to her contact at MIDNIGHT. Within minutes a chopper dropped a team of five men. Shaw was in charge and got me out, but he took a bullet in the spine that ended his working in the field.”

“Everyone else got out alive?” she asked.

“Everyone except Alisa.”

“And you blame yourself.”

“I’m the only one left to blame.”

She couldn’t imagine the horror of what he’d seen or the pain he must have felt. The crushing guilt. “That’s why you’ve been so determined to protect me from the people at Lockdown.”

His gaze burned into hers. “I’m determined to protect you for a lot of reasons.”

She stared at him, conscious that her heart was doing acrobatics in her chest, that her pulse was thrumming.

Crossing the short distance between them, he set
one hand on her shoulder, touched her cheek with the other. “I care about you, Emily. I care too damn much and I honestly don’t think I could handle it if you were hurt because of me.”

“I’m not going to get hurt. What happened to Alisa was not your fault.”

“Don’t,” he snapped.

“Zack, we’ve come this far—”

“And this is as far as you’re going to go, Emily. It’s over.”

She blinked. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to drive you to the next county and turn you over to the police. You’ll probably be arrested, but at least you’ll be safe.”

Anger surged inside her. “Like hell you are.”

“If you stay with me, you’re going to get hurt, damn it. I’m not willing to risk that.”

“The decision is not yours to make.”

“I’m not taking you with me.”

She wanted to know where he was going and what he had planned next but couldn’t ask the question. Not until she’d convinced him she would be going with him. “You are not in charge of my life. You’re sure as hell not in charge of what I do.”

“I’m in charge of this mission.”

“I am not going to walk away from this, Zack.”

“I can’t take you with me!” he shouted.

“I’m not Alisa!” she shouted back.

For several long seconds he stared at her as if she’d slapped him.

“Don’t shut me out,” she whispered. “I need to
do this. I need to help you. I need to help myself. Please don’t take that away from me.”

The next thing she knew, his arms were around her and he was crushing her body to his. His mouth sought hers. She tasted desperation and lust and a hundred other emotions she couldn’t name.

And then she couldn’t think of anything except kissing him.

ZACK COULD FEEL THE KISS pulling him in a direction he didn’t want to go. But he was tired of fighting it. He was tired of fighting his attraction to her. He kissed her hard, keenly aware that she was kissing him back, that her body was flush against his, that he was hard, his body aching to get inside her.

Growling low in his throat, he shoved her to arm’s length. She stared at him, her eyes huge, her lips wet and kiss-bruised. And the only thought his brain could manage was that he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.

“This is bloody crazy,” he said gruffly, not sure if he was referring to the situation or the powerful attraction between them.

Emily assumed he was referring to the latter. “What’s crazy is the fact that you won’t let me help you because you’re hung up on something that happened in the past.”

“Or maybe I’m one of those smart people who learn from their mistakes.”

“You’re not going to change my mind,” she said
breathlessly. “I’m going to see this through with or without you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, grinding out the words.

She put her hands on her hips. “That means if you cut me loose, I’ll do this on my own.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Where are we going?” Emily asked.

They had been in the Jeep for half an hour, heading south, as best she could tell. Because of the snow, they seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace, and it was maddening.

Zack looked over at her, his expression tense. He’d been silent and brooding since leaving the cabin. Emily knew he wasn’t happy with her. But there was no way she was going to let him take her to the local sheriff’s office to be arrested and detained while he risked his life to finish this alone.

“I thought we’d drive by Clay Carpenter’s house,” he said after a moment. “If the house is dark, I’ll slip inside and see if I can find something that will connect him to Signal Research and Development.”

Denial rose swiftly inside Emily. She’d known Warden Carpenter for fifteen years. Her father had worked for him. He’d helped her land the corrections officer position with Lockdown, Inc. He was a good man, a fair man.

“Zack, I’ve known Warden Carpenter most of my life. I don’t think he’s involved.”

“Two days ago you thought the same thing about Marcus Underwood.”

“Maybe Underwood is running the show and Warden Carpenter doesn’t know anything about it.”

“If that’s the case, he doesn’t have anything to worry about, does he?”

She was about to continue her defense when Zack punched off the headlights. She glanced through the thick trees and lightly falling snow to see Clay Carpenter’s house. The place was lit up like a football stadium. Four pricey SUVs were sitting in the driveway. Normally Emily wouldn’t have questioned so much activity; Clay and his wife, Jessica, frequently entertained. Emily had been there herself. But it was three o’clock in the morning. At least two of the SUVs were from Lockdown, Inc.’s fleet….

“There’s something going on,” Zack said.

“Maybe he’s entertaining a few colleagues.”

“Yeah, and maybe that red SUV parked behind the Chevy isn’t the one we saw at Signal Research and Development.”

“What?” Emily squinted out the window. Astonishment shot through her when she realized the red SUV was the same one they’d seen back at Signal Research and Development. The one with the dented fender.

“That ties Carpenter to Signal,” Zack said.

She didn’t want to believe it. But then, Emily hadn’t wanted to believe a lot of things Zack had
proved to her in the last hours. Had she been wrong about the warden, too?

Feeling sick inside, she pressed her hand to her stomach. Warden Clay Carpenter. He’d been her father’s best friend. She couldn’t believe he would be involved. But from all appearances he was.

She wanted to rage at the betrayal. At the unfairness of the situation. The ruination of her career. An innocent man like Zack being pursued by every law-enforcement agency in the state.

Innocent.

For the first time it struck her that she now believed everything he’d told her. About his being an undercover agent. About MIDNIGHT. About Lockdown, Inc. and the Bitterroot prison. That he was innocent. All her lingering doubts were finally put to rest. The realization was heady. And it made her even more determined to end the killing and make things right. She knew in her heart there was only one way.

“We need to go back to the prison,” she said.

Zack had already pulled back onto the road. He nearly drove off the shoulder when she made the suggestion. Catching the wheel just in time, he swerved back onto the snow-covered asphalt and shot her an incredulous glare. “Don’t you think it would be a lot easier if we just found a gun somewhere, put it to our heads and pulled the trigger?”

“Is that Zack the MIDNIGHT operative talking?” she asked. “Or is that man who lost his lover two years ago?”

Cursing, he flipped on the headlights and turned the Jeep onto a narrow back road where the snow was deep, the trees thick. “It’s the man who just happens to have enough sense to know when he hears a bad idea,” he snapped, braking the Jeep and jamming it into Park.

“Getting into the prison is the only way we’re going to break this thing wide open,” she said.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because I still have my keys. I know the security codes—”

“Most high-security facilities change codes and locks when there’s a breach.”

“That’s a pathetic excuse not to try.”

“Your idea is suicidal, Emily.”

“The prison is the last place they’ll expect us.”

“That’s because they’ve made the incorrect assumption that you’re sane!”

“Zack, you know I’m right. The proof we need is in the prison.”

“I’m not going to let you do it.”

“If you want to complete your mission, if you want to stop the brutalities occurring in that prison, if you want to stop Warden Carpenter and Marcus Underwood and Dr. Lionel, you will.”

“If I decide to go back in, I do it alone.”

“I have the codes. I know where Marcus Underwood’s office is. I know he keeps all of his vital information on the computer in his office. I know the layout of the buildings.”

“So do I,” he snapped.

“You don’t know about the underground passages.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the underground passages leading to the Special Housing unit. The tunnels are still under construction. Nobody uses them yet. The contractors are still working on the project.”

Zack had seen blueprints of the Bitterroot facility. How could his superiors at MIDNIGHT have overlooked something as critically important as underground tunnels?

“How do you know about the tunnels?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve taken the main tunnel before. As a shortcut. I was running late and had to get to the Special Housing unit.”

“Terrific,” he muttered, but his mind was reeling with the implications. “What makes you think the tunnels will be at all helpful?”

“Because they make the perfect escape route if we get into trouble.”

Zack felt her words like a noose around his neck being drawn inexorably tighter. He stared at her in the dim light coming off the dash, awed by her courage and beauty. Taken aback by his feelings for her. Terrified because she was right.

“It’s the only way,” she said.

For the first time in his professional career panic descended and he felt it all the way to his core. There were too many things that could go wrong. Too many people involved. Mainly a pretty brunette with eyes that could bring a man to his knees with noth
ing more than a look. Right now Zack was that man. On his knees and at her mercy, because he couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt.

“Don’t do this,” he said, grinding out the words. “Not after what happened to Alisa.”

“You know I’m right,” she said. “Please, I know my way around the prison. We can get in easily, get the proof we need and then get out before anyone realizes there’s been a security breach.”

Frustration made him want to break something. He didn’t like having his back to the wall. He sure as hell didn’t like having so much at stake. Cursing her and wanting her with an intensity that was maddening, he reached out and pulled her to him.

“Damn you.” He could feel his need for her digging into him. The heady rush of blood pooling in his groin. And he couldn’t believe he could want her at a time like this, when everything was tangled and wrong. But he did. More than his next breath.

Pulling back slightly, he gazed into her eyes. “If anything happens to you—”

She pressed her finger to his mouth, silencing him. “Nothing’s going to happen,” she whispered. “I promise.”

It took every bit of discipline he possessed to pull away, but somehow he managed. Mechanically he started the engine and put the Jeep into gear. Five minutes later they were on the highway, heading toward the Bitterroot prison.

It was then that he remembered Alisa’s last words to him had been chillingly similar to Emily’s.

HALF AN HOUR LATER, ZACK stopped the Jeep in a deserted mountain town that consisted of a ramshackle motel, a defunct gold mine and a gas station touting an oil change for sixteen ninety-nine. Leaving Emily in the Jeep, he went directly to the pay phone at the service station.

He knew he was taking a risk by making the call. But there was no way he and Emily could walk into the prison without some backup. Zack did the only thing he could think of and circumvented his usual point of contact.

The operatives at MIDNIGHT were never to contact any fellow agent or superior at home. But Zack had never played by the rules; he knew a call to the agency would lead to another ambush. And so he broke every rule in the book and went directly to the top of the organizational chart. He called Avery Shaw at home. Breaking protocol would probably cost him his job, but he figured that was a hell of a lot better than getting himself—or God forbid, Emily—killed.

He’d known Avery Shaw for five years. He was a good agent, a good man. He’d been there the night Alisa died. He’d talked Zack down when Zack had been on a very precipitous edge and about to leap. He’d been the one to contact Alisa’s family. He’d picked Zack up off the floor when Zack had been too drunk to do it himself. He’d treated him like an agent when Zack had felt as if he would never be able to work again.

“Shaw.” A sleep-roughened voice rumbled on the other end of the line.

“This is Devlin.”

A long, pregnant silence ensued. “What the hell are you doing calling me at home?”

“Trying to save my ass, no thanks to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That means you have a mole within your ranks, mate. A mole who just about got me bloody killed.”

Another meaningful silence ensued. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. I called my regular contact to set up a meet. And I got ambushed. Thought you might want to know.”

“Hell, yes, I want to know.”

Zack heard rustling on the other end of the line and imagined the other man getting out of bed.

“I’m pulling you out,” Shaw said.

“Like hell.”

“Let me remind you of something, Devlin. I’m calling the shots. I say you’re out and you’re out. You got that?”