Operation: Midnight Guardian (11 page)

He started toward the downed chopper.

“IMBECILES! ALL OF THEM!” The Jaguar snapped the cell phone shut and threw it across the room. The one thing he could not tolerate was incompetence, and he seemed to be surrounded by it.

The two men standing at his desk shifted uncomfortably as they waited for their next orders.

Furious, The Jaguar stared them down. “You were on the radio with them when this accident occurred?”

One of the men nodded. “That’s correct.”

“How did this happen?”

“One of the men in the chopper had just spotted the scientist on the ground. They
followed. Visibility was poor. I can only assume the pilot didn’t see the power lines.” The man shrugged. “I heard screaming…”

The Jaguar didn’t care about the men who’d died. All he cared about was the scientist. And Sean Cutter, the bastard. He knew Cutter was just good enough to have engineered such an accident. Even though he hated the man, he felt a grudging moment of respect for him. “The chopper was equipped with GPS?”

The taller of the two men stepped forward. “We’ve already got the coordinates.”

“Send a team to the wreckage site. I want every available man looking for them.”

“We’ve got two teams en route via snowmobile.”

“I want two more teams sent out.”

“Done,” said the second man.

The two men exchanged looks. “What about the bodies?” one of them asked.

The Jaguar waved off the question. “Leave them. I need every available man searching for that scientist and that bastard agent.”

“But, sir—”

“I said leave them!”
He strode to a map mounted on the wall. “How far to the nearest town?”

“Six miles. Too far for them to make it on foot in this weather.”

He turned to the men. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating Sean Cutter,” he said coldly.

“We’ll do our best to intercept them before they reach the town.”

“The success of our objective depends on the apprehension of that scientist. Rest assured, gentlemen, I will kill the next man who lets them escape. Make sure every man knows that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want them found. I want them brought to me.”

And after he extracted the information on the EDNA weapons system, he would take his time killing them both.

Chapter Ten

Cutter found Mattie standing at the base of the nearest tower, her face pale and drawn. Even though she’d wrapped herself in the makeshift poncho, she was shivering. He didn’t know if it was from the cold or the shock of seeing the chopper go down, but he was concerned.

“The radio is dead,” he said.

Disappointment darkened her lovely features. “Are you sure?”

“It’s in pieces.” He raised the 9 mm Beretta he’d pilfered from one of the bodies. The pistol was covered with soot but had somehow survived the heat and flames. “This was the only valuable thing I could salvage.

“And the men?”

He shook his head. “No survivors.”

She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I’d been hoping…”

The need to comfort her overwhelmed his need for caution. He walked over to her, set his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Don’t think about them,” he said.

“I’m not like you,” she said. “I can’t shut things out.”

He wanted to tell her he wasn’t so good at it, either, but figured they’d both be better off if he let it go. “We need to keep moving. Find shelter.” He looked up at the slate-gray sky. “From the looks of those clouds, there’s more snow on the way.”

A humorless laugh broke from her lips. “At least there’s no one shooting at us.”

For now,
Cutter thought, and removed the scrap of paper from his pocket. “I found this.”

Her eyes flicked down to the paper in his hand. “What is it?”

“Part of a map.” He unfolded it, taking care not to damage the burned edges.

“It’s pretty scorched. I don’t see how it’s going to help us.”

“Scorched, but not completely destroyed.” He set his finger against a circle someone had drawn on the map. “We’re here, near the Canadian border.”

“Can we get across into Canada?”

“The border is pretty open and wild. As long as we stay off the roads and away from bridges we should be all right.”

Her eyes widened as realization set in. “There’s a town just a few miles away! We can get to a phone—”

“Six miles to the north, Mattie. It will be a tough hike to say the least. But if we hustle we can make it before dark.”

“We can do it.”

“We haven’t eaten. We don’t have gear or clothing.”

“Cutter, I can do it.” Newfound determination hardened her voice. “I’ll do anything to stop this nightmare. I’ll do even more to prove I’m innocent.”

Staring into her pretty eyes, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that she might never get the chance.

MATTIE WAS NO STRANGER to physical exhaustion. In the past forty-eight hours she had become intimately familiar with its every facet. But the trek to Silver Lake, a small ski town in the Canadian province of Alberta, took her beyond exhaustion to a whole new level of misery. Several times, she considered giving up.
Just lying down in the snow and letting hypothermia take her to a place where she didn’t have to hurt. Only the hope of clearing her name and getting her life back kept her going.

And Sean Cutter.

For the first time since their ordeal had begun, he talked to her. Not as a federal agent, but person to person. He encouraged her. He held her hand when she needed it. He egged her on when all she wanted to do was collapse. He carried her when she finally dropped.

They reached Silver Lake at dusk. It was like stepping into a Bavarian wonderland. Christmas lights adorned ornate streetlamps. Yellow light slanted through the mullioned windows of the storefronts, cafes and shops along the main street.

Mattie took it all in with a weary sense of awe. “I can’t believe we made it,” she said as they stepped onto the cobblestone sidewalk.

Cutter shot her a smile, touched her shoulder. “You did good, Mattie.”

“I want to take a bath. I want to eat a six-course meal and sleep for a week.”

“I’ll settle for a bed and clean sheets.”

“Speaking of.” She pointed to a Tudor style bed and breakfast just off the main street.

“Let’s hope they have a vacancy,” he said.

It did not elude Mattie that Cutter kept looking over his shoulder or that his eyes continuously scanned the cars moving along the street and the tourists walking the sidewalks. She knew there was a possibility that The Jaguar or some of his men had followed them here. But she was so exhausted, both physically and emotionally, that she didn’t have the energy to care.

The clerk greeted them with a halfhearted smile when they entered the bed and breakfast. “Welcome to the Chateau Maurier.”

Mattie arched a brow when Cutter spoke to him in fluent French. “What did he say?” she asked.

Cutter grimaced. “They have one room. One bed.”

It gave her pause, but only for a moment. “One of us can sleep on the floor.”

He turned back to the clerk. “We’ll take it.”

Cutter paid with cash, and a few minutes later they were opening the door of an A-frame cabin. Once they were inside the first thing Mattie noticed was the warmth. A fire crackled merrily in a beautiful stone hearth. The smell of cloves and sage filled the air. A bowl of ripe fruit sat on the small table. Through the bedroom door, she saw a tall bed piled high with frilly pillows.

“I don’t know whether to eat or shower or sleep first,” she said.

Cutter smiled, but Mattie sensed an underlying tension she didn’t quite understand. Crossing to the table, he picked up two oranges, passed one to her and began to peel the other. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll go round us up something a little more substantial to eat.”

“I’ll have two of everything,” she quipped. “Something rich and French and—” She cut the words short when he just stood there saying nothing. Suddenly it dawned on her that they were not here for relaxation. She was his prisoner. An assignment. He was going to take her back so she could begin her prison sentence. Reality crashed down with all the weight of a boulder.

“Are you going to cuff me to the bed while you’re gone?” she asked.

“I was going to tell you to lock the door and not let anyone in.”

Uneasiness washed over her. She glanced toward the window. The door. “You think The Jaguar is here?”

“I think he’s a determined and ruthless son of a bitch. It’s only a matter of time before he finds us.”

Mattie knew Cutter wasn’t going to sit around and let that happen. He didn’t say the words, but she knew he had to call his superiors at whatever agency he worked for. He was going to tell them he had her in custody. Then they were going to come for her.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He gave her a hard look as he opened the door. “Lock the door behind me and don’t let anyone in.”

Mattie watched him disappear into the night, then closed the door and set the dead bolt. She should have been relieved to be safe and warm and alive. But there was a knot in her gut the size of Montana. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but at some point in the past two days Sean Cutter had become more friend than persecutor. It hurt to know he was going to turn her over to the authorities. Mattie wasn’t sure what she’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t that.

Attributing her melancholy mood to exhaustion, she headed toward the bathroom, shed the poncho and flipped on the light. The image of herself in the mirror caused her to gasp. Her clothes were torn and dirty. Soot streaked her face. Her hair looked as if some big bird had nested in it. She couldn’t help it; she laughed out loud. It was either that or cry.

She turned on the shower, stepped beneath the spray and let the hot water beat down on her. Putting her face in her hands, she sobbed and tried desperately not to think about spending the rest of her life in prison.

CUTTER PICKED UP clothes at a local boutique and two cell phones at a small electronics store. He found a sandwich shop one block over and stopped in for sandwiches and soft drinks.

On his way back he kept an eye on the streets and sidewalks, but no one seemed unduly interested in him. To make sure he wasn’t followed, he circled the block twice and cut through an alley before heading to the bed and breakfast.

He unlocked the door and was immediately aware of the sound of the shower. As he set the food on the table, he tried hard not to think about Mattie, but his efforts were in vain. In his mind’s eye he saw water sluicing over milky flesh. He saw soap bubbles clinging to secret curves. He saw her head thrown back in ecstasy as he drove into her…

“Smells wonderful.”

Cutter
never
blushed. But standing there, semierect and indulging in thoughts he had no business indulging in, heat crept into his cheeks.

“Are you all right?” Concern darkened her eyes as she crossed the room to him.

The fluffy white robe was two sizes too big, but at that moment Cutter thought he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Her wet hair was slicked back, revealing her high cheekbones and porcelain skin. Her brows were thin and very dark, offsetting her big, pretty eyes. Her hands were red and chapped from the cold, but her bones were fine. Even her feet were sexy.

“I’m fine,” he growled, but he broke a sweat beneath his flannel shirt.

Before he could turn away, she reached out and pressed her fingertips to his forehead. “My God,” she said, “You’re perspiring. I think you may have a fever.”

He had a fever all right. But the heat running through his veins had nothing to do with being sick. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Turning away from her, he started for the bathroom.

“Cutter?”

He stopped, but didn’t face her. “What is it?”

“We haven’t talked about what’s going to happen next.”

He felt a hard tug of regret. He knew all too well what he had to do. What he had been
putting off. He had to contact Martin Wolfe and tell him he had Mattie Logan in custody. Within hours two agents would arrive to transport her to prison. Hell, he should have contacted Martin Wolfe the instant he arrived in town. He should have her cuffed and shackled for when the agents arrived to transport her to prison…

Instead he was sharing a meal with her and fantasizing about all the things he wanted to do to her….

“I’m dead on my feet,” he said. “We’ll talk after I get cleaned up. After we eat.”

Not wanting to see the hurt on her face, he turned and started for the shower.

CUTTER FELT ALMOST HUMAN after he’d washed off the grime and cold. His ribs were severely bruised, but none of the wounds appeared to be infected. Wrapping himself in a navy-blue robe, he left the bathroom. Mattie had set out the sandwiches and cut up several pieces of fruit. She was sitting at the table with her face in her hands looking bone weary.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said. “You could have eaten.”

“My parents raised me to have good manners.” She shot him a smile that was more sad
than wry. “But then, I don’t think anyone cares about good manners in prison, do they?”

Cutter didn’t know what to say. He sank into a chair and reached for his sandwich. “Eat,” he said.

Neither of them spoke as they delved into their food. But it wasn’t a comfortable silence. There was a tension between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Cutter, after everything we’ve been through, the least you can do is tell me what’s going to happen next,” she said after a moment.

“I’ve got to check in. File a report.”

“And then?”

“Our being in Canada will complicate things a little, but the agency has a lot of pull when it comes to cutting through jurisdictional red tape.” He sighed. “Once that’s taken care of, a couple of U.S. Marshals will pick you up here and you’ll be transported to a secure location. You’ll be asked to give a statement that will go on record. From there you’ll be taken to a federal prison.”

“I didn’t do it,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go to prison.”