Operation: Midnight Tango (8 page)

“What kinds of weapons are you talking about?”

“We believe the weapons being tested at Bitterroot are a new generation of chemical weapons. Poisonous gases contained in a vial the size of a pencil eraser but capable of killing hundreds in a mat
ter of minutes. We don’t know how long it will be before these weapons are fully tested and operational. But you know what could happen if something that deadly fell into the wrong hands.”

“If some of the inmates are being killed, what happens to the bodies?”

“Cremation.”

Emily wanted desperately to believe he was lying. That he’d made up a fantastic story in order to gain her cooperation. But too much of what he’d told her explained what she’d already suspected.

All she had to do now was figure out what she was going to do about it.

Chapter Six

Zack had never been good at waiting, and riding out the storm was no exception. He cursed the snow as he paced the length of the room for the umpteenth time. Outside the wind continued to rage, battering the old lodge with powerful gusts that shook the walls. A few feet away Emily sat on the bench with her arms wrapped around herself, staring into the fire.

He hadn’t liked seeing her go pale when he’d told her what he had discovered about Lockdown, Inc. But her reaction told him two very important things. One, that she believed him. And two, that she wasn’t involved. He didn’t want to examine too carefully why both of those things pleased him so profoundly.

“What happens next?”

Zack stopped pacing and came over to her side. She looked fragile and feminine sitting on the bench with her chin on her hand, watching him with those cautious whiskey eyes. But while she might be the
epitome of feminine beauty, he knew there was nothing fragile about her. What he couldn’t explain was why he felt so compelled to protect her. Judging from his track record, Zack figured he was the last man for the job.

“We wait the storm out,” he said.

“If what you’re saying is true, aren’t the people from your agency out looking for us?” she asked impatiently.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean there could be a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

Zack said nothing. He didn’t quite know how to tell her he couldn’t trust the people inside his own agency. He didn’t want to believe it himself. But the facts didn’t lie.

“Look,” she began, “when the visibility improves, this mountain is going to be crawling with men on snowmobiles and skis, not to mention choppers.”

“I know,” he said. “Damn it.”

“So what’s your plan?” she asked.

Zack felt like a fool for not having one. But then, he’d assumed he would be able to count on the agency to bail him out if he got into trouble. “I need to get to a phone,” he said.

“That’s your brilliant plan?” Her laugh grated on his nerves like fingernails scraping down a chalk-board. “I hate to break the news to you, Mr. Secret Agent, but there isn’t a phone around for miles.”

Temper simmering, he turned to her. “There has to be a ranch or ranger station or something,” he said.

“If you’re really an agent for some obscure government agency, why can’t you call the people you work for?”

Zack hadn’t wanted to tell her about the mole. The less she knew about his mission and the agency, the better off she’d be. But thanks to him, she was in this as deep as he was. She deserved to know how serious the situation was because he was starting to wonder if they were going to get out of this alive.

“I think someone at the agency blew my cover,” he said hesitantly.

“You mean someone sold you out?”

“It’s the only way the people at Lockdown could have found out my identity.”

“My God.” Her gaze searched his. “Where does that leave us?”

He shook his head, angry that he was in this situation but even angrier because he hadn’t seen it coming. “On our own for now.”

She took a moment to mull that over. “You mentioned earlier that there are other agents working undercover. Is it possible they’re the ones who—”

“No,” he said shortly. There was no way fellow agents Kendra Michaels or Jake Vanderpol would have sold him out. He’d known both of them for almost five years. They were two of the best operatives he’d ever known. Good people who would risk their own lives to save a fellow agent.

But Zack knew that if Marcus Underwood was demented enough to test chemical weapons on inmates, he was cruel enough to torture an agent for information. If he’d gotten to Kendra or Jake…

Torture was every agent’s worst nightmare. Even though the agents at MIDNIGHT had been trained to endure it, everyone had a breaking point. The thought made him break out in a cold sweat.

Knowing there was nothing he could do until the storm broke, Zack looked at Emily. “How much do you know about Lockdown?” he asked.

“I’ve been with them for three years. They train their employees and corrections officers well. Their facilities are state of the art.”

“So why were you snooping around the infirmary at four o’clock in the morning?”

She looked away, then back at him. “In the last six months, two inmates on my watch disappeared without a trace.”

“Are you talking about Big Jimmie Jack and Jinx Ramirez?”

Her eyes widened and she nodded. “One day they were in their cells. The next day the cells were vacant and cleaned. I was trying to find out what happened to them.”

“Any luck?”

“All I managed to get were evasive answers.”

“Underwood?”

She nodded. “And Dr. Lionel.”

“I can fill in at least part of the mystery for you,” Zack said. “Big Jimmie Jack went into the infir
mary for a sinus infection. Jinx Ramirez went in allegedly for some blood test. Neither man came out. I believe they were murdered.”

Emily closed her eyes briefly. “My God.”

When her gaze met his, there was a fierceness in its depths he hadn’t noticed before. She would be a strong ally—if he could gain her trust. “Anything else?” he asked.

“When I was poking around in the infirmary,” she began, “I ran across a file on Signal Research and Development. At the time I didn’t think it was significant.” Her gaze met his. “Now I’m not so sure.”

Zack made the connection immediately. Signal Research and Development was a veterinary pharmaceutical firm. Because of the facility’s proximity to the prison, he’d researched it himself, but the company appeared squeaky-clean. Or was it? Had he missed something vital?

“What was in the file?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to be there, so I was rushed. I didn’t have time to get a good look, but I think there were some invoices.”

“Invoices for what?” he asked.

Murder in the name of research.

Neither of them said the words, but Zack could tell by her expression she was thinking the same thing he was.

“You don’t think they’re somehow involved in chemical weapons research, do you?” she asked.

“I think there are too many coincidences to rule
that out.” Coincidences he wished like hell he’d put together before now. “Think about it,” he said. “The setup is perfect. Signal is less than five miles from the prison facility. It was built just one year after the Bitterroot prison was built.”

“You think this…chemical-weapons-testing project was planned that long ago?”

“I think this operation is more sophisticated than anyone initially envisioned.”

And a hell of a lot more dangerous,
he silently added. So how was he going to keep this woman safe when he had no way to communicate with the outside world, no transportation and no weapon?

You’re going to get her killed the same way you got Alisa killed,
a cruel little voice chimed in.

The thought struck him with so much force that Zack flinched, drawing a questioning gaze from Emily. Staring into her pretty eyes, he acknowledged that he did not want the responsibility of her safety on his shoulders. He sure as hell didn’t want her blood on his hands.

One woman’s death was enough for any man to handle. Zack hadn’t handled Alisa’s murder well. In the two years since, the guilt had nearly driven him out of his mind. He’d vowed never to put himself in a situation where another person’s life—another
woman’s
life—was in his hands.

He shouldn’t have expected fate to cooperate.

Logic told him to hand Emily over to someone he could trust. An agent at MIDNIGHT or even the local police. But even if he got to a phone and was
able to make contact with MIDNIGHT or the local sheriff’s department, who could he trust?

Not a soul,
that annoying little voice reminded.

“The only thing we can do for now is try getting some rest,” he said.

“I have a hard time relaxing when I know there are people out there who want me dead,” Emily said.

“You’re safe here.”
For now.

“And after the storm breaks?” she asked.

He gave her a hard look. “The moment this storm breaks, I’m going to pay a visit to Signal Research and Development and see if I can figure out what the hell is going on.”

EMILY’S MIND WAS TOO troubled to let her sleep. But, overcome with exhaustion, she dozed. And dreamed.

She was back at Bitterroot, lying on an examination table in the infirmary. At the door, Dr. Lionel and Marcus Underwood stood, each of them holding a syringe.

They were going to kill her.

She tried to move only to realize she was strapped securely to the table. She tried to scream, but the terror was like a hand clamped over her throat.

Then Zack Devlin was standing over her. He, too, was holding a syringe. But the intent in the depths of his eyes was different.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

His seductive voice glided over her skin like the warm breath of a lover. Her nipples tightened.

“I can’t,” she said. “You’re a convict.”

“I’m an undercover agent,” he replied. “Let me show you.”

Then he was leaning close, and she knew what he would do next. Then his mouth was on hers, and every nerve ending exploded with sensation. His mouth was firm and tantalizing against hers. She tried to resist, but it was as if he’d drugged her and instead she opened to him, taking his tongue into her mouth.

Pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave. Then his hands were on her body, touching her breasts, the flat plane of her belly, the curve of her hip. Heat flared, and Emily felt herself begin to melt. The need was like a dagger, sharp and endless and dangerously tempting, and for the first time in her life she knew what it was like to want a man’s touch with such desperation that she would cry for it.

She opened to him, wanting, straining to relieve the throbbing arousal between her legs….

“Emily. Hey, it’s me, Zack. Wake up.”

She jerked awake and opened her eyes to see Zack kneeling over her, his expression concerned. She was lying on her side in front of the hearth with her coat wrapped around her.

A dream,
she thought with relief. But the pulse of wet heat between her legs was not her imagination. Neither was the ripple of disappointment that went through her body when she realized Zack Devlin was not kissing her.

“You cried out,” he said.

Feeling her cheeks blush, Emily sat up abruptly. “It was just a dream,” she said.

He was still kneeling, and she was keenly aware that he was too close. That her body was reacting to his proximity. She saw by the look on his face that if she reached out to him, he would respond.

She couldn’t meet his gaze, found herself instead looking at his mouth. That was a mistake because it only made her remember the dream…and the kiss they’d shared back at the prison locker room.

“The storm broke.” He rose, and the moment was gone. “In another hour this place is going to be crawling with Lockdown, Inc. people. We need to leave.”

Emily scrambled to her feet. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going into Signal Research and Development. I’ll find a secure place for you to wait—”

“If you go in, I go in.”

“That means if I get caught, so do you,” he shot back. “Are you prepared for that?”

“If everything you’ve told me is true, I want these bastards stopped.”

“Emily…”

“I mean it, Zack. I need to do this. I can help. Don’t shut me out.” She didn’t give him a chance to argue. “I’m assuming you have a plan to get in.”

“Yeah, it’s called winging it.”

“Signal Research and Development is a fortress.”

“Fortresses are my specialty.” Looking nonchalant, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small
bag. “I had room service deliver breakfast while you were sleeping.”

The dream she’d been having drifted disturbingly through her mind before she could stop it. Feeling her cheeks heat once again, she looked down at the small bag in his hand. “Chocolate-covered apricots? Where on earth did you get them?”

“I found them in the pocket of this coat.” He grinned. “It’s not meat and potatoes, but it should get us through the night.” He grimaced. “If my calculations are correct, we’ve got quite a hike ahead of us.”

“How far?” she asked.

“Two miles or so. The snow and lack of gear is going to make it tough going.” He motioned to her coat, which was still on the floor where she’d been lying. “Let’s get out of here before the goons come calling.”

MARCUS UNDERWOOD GLARED at Lieutenant Riley Cooper, clenching his hands into fists to keep from doing him physical harm. “You had better have a damn good reason why that chopper is grounded.”

“As soon as we’re cleared by the FAA, the pilot has been instructed to take her up.”

“I want that chopper in the air, Cooper. And I want it in the air yesterday.”

“The FAA should give the go-ahead at anytime, Mr. Underwood.”

“And meanwhile a dangerous convict and his accomplice are on the loose somewhere in these mountains.” Cursing in frustration and fury, he swept his
hand toward the wall map. “What other resources are available to us?”