Operation: Midnight Guardian (6 page)

“That means this cave bought us some time.”

“How much?”

When he didn’t answer she glanced at him. He’d risen and was holding the flare in front of him, trying to see farther into the cave.

“Where does it lead?” she asked.

“Hopefully not to the den of some hibernating grizzly.”

She squinted into the inky darkness. “You’re kidding, right?”

He didn’t smile, but she thought she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Deer wouldn’t use the cave if it was occupied by any kind of predator.”

“What if it’s a dead end? What if we’re trapped? What if we reach the end of the cave and have to turn around? And when we do The Jaguar’s men are waiting for us?”

He shot her a sharp look she didn’t quite understand at the mention of The Jaguar. Reaching into his belt, he retrieved a tiny box. Only after he’d struck a match did she realize what he was doing.

“It’s not a dead end,” he said.

In the flickering light of the match, she noted the tension in the set of his shoulders. She wondered if he was in pain from the gunshot wound or worried that there was no escape.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“There’s a draft.” He held the match higher. The tiny flame danced. “See?”

“That means there’s an exit?” she asked.

“The question is how far.” The flame burned close to his fingers, and he swished out the match.

“And what might be waiting for us on the other end,” she added.

“Only one way to find out,” he said, and started into the darkness.

CUTTER DIDN’T LIKE admitting it, but he’d suffered with claustrophobia since his disastrous mission in Africa two years ago. He’d learned to live with it for the most part. He’d learned to control the slick fear the way he controlled everything else. He’d passed the psych test for entry into the MIDNIGHT team not because he’d answered the questions truthfully, but because he’d known which answers the shrinks had wanted to hear.

As he and his prisoner made their way through the snaking tunnel, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were traveling deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. After twenty minutes of walking, he struck a second match. A quiver of uncertainty went through him when the flame did not flicker. Had they somehow missed a turnoff that would take them out of the cave?

“What is it?”

He jolted at the sound of her voice, quickly corrected his response and schooled his features into a cool mask. “Nothing,” he said.

But her eyes lingered on his a little too long, and he had to remind himself of just how important it was for him to remain in control of the situation.

“No air movement,” she said.

“You let me worry about that.”

For an hour the only sound came from their shoes against the rocky floor and the incessant drip of water. Cutter knew it was the claustrophobia, but he felt as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. Soon his fingers and face began to tingle. He tried to occupy his mind with more important things—like how the hell they were going to get to a phone once they found their way out of this godforsaken hole. But he couldn’t suppress the terrible sensation of being trapped and slowly suffocated.

After a while he began to sweat. Not the kind of sweat that stemmed from physical exertion or heat—the temperature inside the cave hovered just above freezing. The sweat beading on his forehead and the back of his neck was panic sweat, and it felt like ice against his skin.

“Are you all right?”

The sound of her voice jerked him from a place he knew better than to venture. The first thing any agent learned about controlling fear when he couldn’t control his environment was to discipline his mind. Not think about it. Certainly not dwell on it.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“You’re breathing hard.”

Ignoring her, Cutter continued walking.

Evidently, Mattie Logan wasn’t the kind of woman to be ignored. Jogging to keep up with his long stride, she came up beside him and looked closely at him. “Cutter, you’re sweating.”

“Yeah, well, that happens when I walk ten damn miles.”

“It’s cold. You shouldn’t be sweating like that.” When he didn’t answer, she bit her lip. “How bad is that bullet wound?”

The graze in his arm where the bullet had nicked him hadn’t even crossed his mind. He was too busy thinking about the walls closing in. The lack of oxygen. The ceiling coming down to crush them both….

“I’m fine, damn it.”

“Cutter, you’re shaking. You can barely hold the flare.”

For the first time he noticed just how badly he was shaking. If he didn’t get a handle on the fear slithering through him, he was going to collapse into a heap on the floor like some kind of a blathering idiot.

“Let me—” She wrapped her hand around his arm as she reached for the flair. “Oh my God. You’re soaking wet and trembling.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Get away.”

“Let me help you.”

He shook off her hand. “I don’t need your damn help.”

“Look, I know you don’t trust me. Frankly, I’d rather go it alone, too. We don’t exactly have the same goal here. But for your information I’m not cold-blooded enough to leave you alone when you’re obviously injured.”

“I’m not injured.”

“You look like you’re ready to pass out.”

At that moment Cutter figured he’d rather do just that than lose it in front of a prisoner. Unfortunately, succumbing to unconsciousness wasn’t an option if he wanted to get through this. He was going to have to tough it out and hope the panic attack abated.

But the walls and ceiling continued to close in. He could feel the crushing pressure of a
thousand tons of rock. The sensation of being trapped. Cold darkness descending. No oxygen to breathe.

Bending at the hip, Cutter put his hands on his knees and gulped air. He knew better than to turn his back on a prisoner, but he was in no condition to stop her if she decided to do something stupid…like run.

He could hear his breaths echoing off the rock walls. He was breathing too fast. Too shallowly. Still, he couldn’t seem to get enough into his lungs.

“Cutter…”

He started when she touched him. He knew that was the one thing he should not allow. But at that moment the small human contact, the warmth of her hand against his shoulder, was incredibly reassuring.

Closing his eyes tightly, he clung to that tiny connection. After a few minutes the fear loosened its death grip. The walls and ceiling of the cave stopped closing in. His breathing returned to normal. The sweat cooled on his skin. All the while he was keenly aware of the warmth of her hand against his shoulder.

“Better.” He straightened and turned to look at her. In the dim light of the flare he saw wide
blue eyes and porcelain skin. Her hand fell away from his arm, and he was suddenly keenly aware of the absence of her touch. Against his will, his eyes went to her mouth, her full, pink mouth, and suddenly he remembered the kiss they’d shared. He acknowledged the fact that he wanted to do it again.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” she said. “For a second I thought you were going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

Two feet separated them. She was at least a foot shorter, and he had to look down to maintain eye contact. He could see the swell of her breasts. The fragile slant of her throat. In the dim light her skin looked almost translucent. The lemon and rosemary scent of her hair titillated his senses. He knew better than to want when it came to this woman, but he did. He wanted like he hadn’t wanted for a long time.

The flare chose that moment to burn out, plunging them into darkness. Cutter tossed the spent stick to the ground, not sure if he was relieved the strange moment had passed or disappointed because they were going to have to travel the rest of the way in total darkness.

“Do you have another flare?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“How are we going to find the other opening without light?”

Cutter struck a match. Relief flicked through him when the flame danced. “We follow the air.”

“There’s a breeze?”

“Faint, but definitely there.” He could feel her gaze on him, but he didn’t look at her. The situation demanded he either tie her belt to his or take her hand so they didn’t get separated. Considering the way he was reacting to her, he didn’t want to touch her. But since he was fresh out of rope he was going to have to take her hand. “Let’s go.”

He reached down to take her hand. She tried to tug away, but he tightened his grip. “We don’t want to get separated,” he explained.

“Oh.” She stopped trying to pull away.

Refusing to acknowledge just how good her hand felt in his, Cutter extinguished the match and they ventured deeper into the cave.

Chapter Five

Mattie had never been afraid of the dark. Even as a child, she’d never needed a night-light or the door to her room left ajar. But the utter darkness of the cave was something she had never encountered.

She didn’t know how long they walked. It seemed like hours, but the darkness had a way of skewing one’s sense of time and place. If not for the warmth of Cutter’s hand, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to go on.

“Stop.” His voice broke through the utter silence like a shout.

“What is it?” She squinted, but saw nothing.

A match flared. Relief went through her at the sight of the tiny light. Then she noticed that the flame was flickering wildly.

“We’re close to the opening,” Cutter said.

“I don’t see any light ahead.”

“The opening may be hidden. In fact, we may have to dig our way out of here.”

“I hate to tell you this, but I left my shovel in my other purse.”

He scowled. “Ha, ha.”

“So how do we find the opening?”

“Follow the breeze.”

The match burned out. He immediately lit another. “I’m going to let go of your hand. I want you to stay put.”

Mattie nodded, but already it seemed her hand had grown cold without his. She stood there as he moved along the far side of the cave. He held the match with one hand, ran his other along the stone wall.

The match burned down, once again plunging them into darkness. This time, he didn’t light another. Several minutes passed. Mattie could hear him moving around. She took comfort in that, but the dark and cold were beginning to get to her. She thought she heard the squeak of some type of animal. She detected a faint but foul odor and began to imagine the skeletons of long-dead explorers who’d been unable to find their way out, their bodies eaten by carnivorous rats….

A hand on her shoulder made her jump. She spun, reached out, found her hand on a hard-as-
rock bicep. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she said.

“I found the opening.”

She wanted to get out of the smelly, dark and damp cave and into the daylight. “Thank God. Let’s get out of here.”

“There’s only one small problem,” Cutter said.

“Believe me, there’s no problem big enough to keep me from leaving this godforsaken cave.”

“I want you to stay calm,” he said.

Mattie got a prickly sensation on the back of her neck. “I’ll be a lot calmer if you’d tell me why you’re telling me to be calm.”

Yellow light flared when Cutter struck a match. His eyes were already on hers. She gazed back at him, wondering why he was wasting time, not to mention matches. Then movement on the ceiling snagged her attention. At first she thought the soil and rock were somehow shifting. Then she realized what she was looking at were thousands of tiny bodies squeezed together to form a single, undulating layer.

Bats.

“Oh my God.”

“Don’t make a sound,” Cutter said.

The logical part of her brain knew bats were harmless for the most part. But their small
rodent bodies gave her the creeps nonetheless. “Please tell me they’re not blocking our exit.”

“We’re going to have to walk beneath them.”

Mattie closed her eyes tightly, her imagination conjuring images of sharp bat teeth sinking to skin in search of blood. “Are they vampire bats?”

“They eat insects. And they’re hibernating. We should try not to disturb them.”

“Cutter, I think that’s one thing you’re not going to have to worry about.”

Amusement glinted in his eyes before the match went out. “I want you to stay with me.”

She started when he took her hand. “How far is the opening?”

“Twenty feet. We go past the bats. Then we climb.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”

The ammonia smell of guano filled her nostrils as they neared the bats. Mattie could hear the intermittent squeaks of the animals. The swish of tiny wings. The occasional spatter of droppings hitting the cave floor. Gooseflesh rose all over her body as they sidled past.

Then she felt a gust of cold, fresh air on her face. Ahead she caught a glimpse of daylight. Relief rippled through her. She let go of Cutter’s hand and quickened her step. The cave
narrowed, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting out of there.

“Nice and slow,” Cutter said.

But Mattie was already on her hands and knees, crawling toward the light. Sharp rocks cut uncomfortably into her knees, but she barely felt the pain. “I’m almost there,” she said, excitedly.

“I’m right behind you.”

She was so relieved to be out of the cave, she barely noticed when her hands plunged into snow or when cold wind slapped her face. Then the bitter cold began to permeate her clothing as she got to her feet, shivering, blinking at the bright white light.

Cutter scrambled to his feet beside her. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” he muttered.

The lightly falling snow had burgeoned into a blizzard.

“WHAT DO WE DO NOW?”

The same question reverberated in Cutter’s head as he assessed the conditions. Wind-driven snow slashed down from a white-on-white sky. Visibility was less than twenty feet. The wind had picked up markedly and blew with the wicked howl of a gale.

Under different circumstances the answer
would have been clear. Stay in the cave until conditions improved. But with The Jaguar and his men in hot pursuit—possibly even inside the cave and tracking them at this very moment—Cutter knew they had no choice but to risk traveling in the storm. What it boiled down to, he realized, was how he preferred to die. Of hypothermia? Or at the hands of a man whose penchant for cruelty Cutter had already experienced once.