Operation: Midnight Rendezvous

by Linda Castillo

  A scream tore from her throat when something large brushed against her. Shark was the only thought her mind processed. She lunged at the rope, but before she could reach it a hand slapped over her mouth.

  “Easy, Jess, it’s me.”

  Several terror-filled seconds passed before the words registered. Before the familiar voice soothed the jagged ends of her nerves. When he removed his hand from her mouth, Jess choked out a sound of pure relief. “Madrid…”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “N-no. J-just c-cold.”

  He looked around. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  She reached for the rope. “We can climb out.”

  He eased her back into the icy water. The urge to fight him was strong; more than anything, she wanted out of the water. But his words stopped her. “We’re less than ten yards from the port police. You climb out here and you’ll get a bullet for your trouble.”

  That convinced her.

  “Hold on to me,” he said quietly.

  She glanced over at him to find his eyes already on hers. Without hesitating, she hooked a finger around his belt loop.

  “Like this,” he said, taking both her hands in his and wrapping them around his waist. He motioned to his right. “I’m taking you over to that old boat ramp.”

  She hadn’t noticed the ramp until she followed his gesture. The concrete was crumbling and fraught with weeds as high as a man’s waist. But it was the easiest way out of the water. The weeds would provide some cover.

  He shoved away from the pier, and she felt the muscles beneath her palms tighten as he began to swim. Jess kicked her feet in an effort to help, but her legs felt as if they were weighted down. Her feet were numb. The icy water felt like razors against her skin. At some point she had stopped shaking. It was as if she had floated out of her body and was looking down, watching two strangers struggle through the cold, black water.

  It took only a few minutes for him to reach the boat ramp, but it felt like hours. He stepped onto the concrete. “Easy.”

  Jess hadn’t realized she was still clinging to him. But when she let go, she sank back into the water. Exhaustion tugged at her and the darkness beckoned, offered a place that was warm and safe.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Madrid’s voice reached her as if from a great distance. “Whas wrong?” Surprise rippled through her when her words slurred.

  “Cold got you. You’re hypothermic.”

  “I’m ’kay.” But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her legs under her.

  Strong arms wrapped around her. The next thing she knew she was being swept into his arms. She wanted to ask him what he was doing and where he was taking her, but her mouth had suddenly forgotten how to speak. Her mind felt fuzzy and confused; she couldn’t seem to pull her thoughts together.

  Vaguely she was aware of him carrying her across the weed-riddled asphalt. She worried about the men from the ship spotting them as he shoved her into the car. But she figured neither of them was in any shape to do anything about it. She heard the engine start and saw Madrid looking into the rearview mirror.

  And then like the water that had nearly stolen her life, she slipped into the darkness and floated away.

  MADRID TOOK HER to the only place he could think of. As an agent, he had several refuges. Secret places nobody knew about except him. The RV wasn’t his favorite, but it was secluded, mobile and safe. For now it would have to do.

  He was all too aware how dangerous hypothermia was. He’d lost a fellow agent to it while on assignment some five years ago. Cold and water were silent killers that could steal a life like thieves in the night. There was no way he was going to let it take Jess.

  She seemed weightless as he carried her to the RV and took her up the steps. Unlocking the door, he shoved it open. The place smelled stale, but it was dry and warm. For now that would have to be enough.

  He set her on the small settee. She spilled from his arms in a wet heap. “Hang on, babe,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

  Quickly he went outside to the generator at the rear of the RV. It started on the first try. Madrid kept all his equipment in working order. In his line of business, he never knew when he would need it, and he was intimately acquainted with Murphy’s Law.

  Back inside the RV, he switched on the lights and felt alarm shoot through him when he saw the pale cast to Jess’s complexion. She had no color whatsoever, except for her lips, which were tinged blue. “Damn.”

  Not giving himself time to debate, he began to work the wet clothing from her body. His hands shook as he tugged the soggy sweatshirt over her head. She thrashed and tried to push him away, but Madrid gently set her back down. “Easy,” he said. “I need to get you dry and warm.”

  “G’way.”

  “Not a chance.”

  But his hands hesitated. Jess was stripped down to her jeans and bra. As vulnerable as a woman could be. This was no time for him to notice the silky white flesh of her abdomen or that her limbs were long and lean, just the way he liked. They were in the midst of a life-threatening emergency. But as he reached for the snap of her jeans, he noticed all of those things and more.

  She shoved at him as he worked her zipper down. “Don’t.”

  “I’ve got to get you warm,” he said, brushing her hands away.

  Wide hips and a flat belly came into view. He gritted his teeth against the hard tug of attraction that coiled low in his gut. The hot rise of lust made him feel like a lecher. But while Madrid had always considered himself a professional, he’d never denied he was a man with weaknesses.

  “Don’t go there, partner,” he muttered.

  But he already had. He’d stripped her down to her bra and panties and for the span of a full minute he could do nothing but stand there and drink in her beauty.

  Shaken by his reaction to her, he gave himself a hard mental shake. She needed warmth and rest, not some burned-out federal agent ogling her while she was only semiconscious.

  “That’s bottom-of-the-barrel low, Madrid,” he growled, and started for the overhead locker off the tiny head. He pulled two blankets and a pillow from the shelf and went back to the settee. She stirred when he slid the pillow beneath her cheek, but she didn’t open her eyes. Probably a good thing, since he’d end up getting lost in them.

  Only when he’d finished covering her with both blankets did he realize his own condition wasn’t much better. He’d been running on autopilot since leaving the shipyard, but the cold had sapped his strength. He felt as if he were moving through a fog. If some goon with a gun came calling, he wasn’t in any shape to do much about it.

  Leaving Jess on the settee, Madrid stripped, let his clothes drop to the floor and stepped into the shower. The water wasn’t yet hot, but it was warm enough to get his body temperature back to normal. For now that was the best he could hope for.

  He raised his face to the spray and felt his muscles begin to melt. He knew he should be thinking about solving the mystery surrounding Angela’s death. About how he was going to handle the end of his career.

  But he couldn’t get Jess out of his mind. He couldn’t get the picture of her out of his head. The image of his hands roaming milky flesh. The sounds of her sighs when he touched her. The way it might feel running his fingers through her silky hair…

  He had it bad for her. As far as the MIDNIGHT Agency was concerned, she was a fugitive from justice. He wondered if Sean Cutter had figured it out yet. If his relationship with Jess would expedite his fall from grace.

  “First you gotta make it through the night,” he muttered, and turned his face toward the spray.

  EVERYTHING HE’D EVER WORKED for was falling apart. A business endeavor he’d been working on for nearly a decade. A business that had afforded him a lifestyle he otherwise would never even have dreamed of.

  All because of some two-bit federal agent and Jess Atwood. A freaking waitress, of all things.

  They had been on board the Dorian
Rae. In custody, in fact. But his men had screwed up, and now they were free. He could only assume they knew everything. That they were dangerously close to blowing sky-high everything he’d worked for.

  A knock at the door drew his attention. “It’s open,” he snapped.

  The man in the uniform entered the elegantly appointed office overlooking San Francisco Bay. “We’ve got problems.”

  “Judging from the way things went down last night, we’ve got a damn train wreck on our hands.” Leaning back in his high-back leather chair, he glared at the cop. “How in the name of God could you let things get this far?”

  “I’ve got my best men on it.”

  “Some of my clientele are getting impatient. They’re getting nervous. Nervous customers don’t pay.”

  “I just need some time—”

  “We don’t have any more time!” Pulling himself back, he set his hands on the desk and laced his fingers. “She’s a waitress, for God’s sake.”

  The other man flushed. “It’s the agent who’s causing the problems.”

  “I don’t need to have problems pointed out to me. I need them solved, and I need them solved yesterday. Do you understand?”

  “We’re doing everything we can.”

  “And once again you’ve proven yourself incompetent.”

  When he saw the other man’s eyes go hard, he reminded himself that this man could be dangerous if pushed too hard, so he decided to ease up. Once the crisis was over, he’d deal with him. For now, all he cared about was salvaging the project and his reputation.

  “Let me make some calls,” he said. “Call in some markers.”

  The cop shot him a questioning look. “What kind of markers?”

  “A marker that might help me get Madrid out of the picture once and for all.”

  The uniformed man nodded. “In the interim, what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to find them.” He picked up the phone. “When you do, I want you to kill them both.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jess woke with a start. For an instant she lay nestled in the warmth of the blankets. But while her body cried out for more sleep, her mind began to churn. The memory of everything that had happened the night before rushed back. Entering the Dorian Rae. Finding the prisonlike cells. Hearing the scream echo through the corridors. Running through dark and narrow passageways. The icy slap of the water when she’d jumped overboard to avoid capture.

  Everything else was a blur. She didn’t remember taking a bump on the head, but her memory was foggy. She had a vague recollection of Madrid speaking to her, gazing at her with concern in his eyes. Then nothing…

  She looked around. Her surroundings were not familiar, but she was pretty sure she was in some kind of RV. There was a small galley. A bench seat and fold-down tabletop. Faux paneling. A narrow door she assumed led outside. Someone had covered her with blankets…. Then she remembered. But Madrid was nowhere in sight.

  A quick physical inventory told her she was unhurt, except for some sore muscles and a lingering fatigue. She snuggled more deeply into the blankets, comfort turning to shock when she realized she was wearing only her panties and bra.

  But she knew. Madrid had undressed her. Again. Her clothes had been wet, after all. It wasn’t as if he could leave her in them all night. Still, the thought of him seeing her without her clothes made her cheeks heat.

  “Morning.”

  She sat up abruptly at the sound of his voice. He was standing in the doorway, a grocery bag in his arm. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said.

  “I thought you might like some lunch,” he said. “It’s been a while since we ate.”

  “Where are we?”

  “In a safe place.” His gaze flicked over her, then he met her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” The image of him undressing her came to her unbidden. Jess tightened her hand on the blanket she clutched to her chest and hoped he didn’t notice the blush. “I remember going into the water. I don’t remember much afterward.”

  “By the time I pulled you out, you were hypothermic. Semiconscious. I got you to the car and brought you here.”

  “Thank you.” She looked around. “Where is here?”

  “An RV park and campground a few miles from the coast.”

  She nodded, pursed her lips. “And my clothes?”

  “In the dryer.” He set the bag on the counter in the galley. “I’ll get them for you and then fix us something to eat. Then we need to talk.”

  “I want to take a shower.”

  “In that case, let me run the engine for a few minutes. It’s faster than the generator.” Turning from her, he opened a small cabinet above the dining table and pulled a set of keys from a hook inside. “Water will be hot in ten minutes.”

  When Jess finally got in the shower, the hot water felt delicious cascading over her sore muscles, and she couldn’t get enough of it. By the time she turned off the faucets, the water was beginning to run cold.

  She found Madrid in the galley. He’d pulled down a fold-out table and set out paper plates. “I made omelets. I hope that’s okay.”

  Jess’s stomach grumbled at the sight of the omelet neatly folded on her plate. Next to it was a large glass of orange juice and two slices of toast. “Nice.”

  He poured coffee into a plastic cup and handed it to her, his dark eyes meeting hers. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Jess took the cup, but she didn’t take her eyes from his. He had the longest lashes of any male she’d ever met. “You didn’t tell me you cooked.”

  “I haven’t told you a lot of things.”

  “I bet.”

  He grinned at her over his cup.

  She smiled back. “You must have a lot of hidden talents.”

  “You have no idea.”

  She wasn’t sure where the banter was coming from. Something to break the tension and stress of the past few days. After all, it wasn’t as if they didn’t have more important things to discuss. Like what they were going to do about the horrors they’d discovered on board the Dorian Rae.

  Gathering her thoughts, she took the bench seat at the settee. He sat across from her and they delved into their food.

  It was strange sitting down for something as mundane as a quiet meal. Jess couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten; in the past few days she’d been too scared to even think of it. But looking at the omelet, she was suddenly famished.

  Midway through the meal, however, the questions buzzing around in her head would wait no longer. “What are we going to do about what we found last night?”

  Madrid forked some of the egg. “Well, we know the Lighthouse Point PD is involved in human smuggling.”

  “Not to mention murder.”

  “Goes hand in hand.”

  Thinking of Angela, Jess shook her head. “How do we stop them?”

  “We find the head of the operation and cut it off.”

  “Someone with the Lighthouse Point PD?”

  “Could be, but I doubt it. This is a big operation, Jess. Far-reaching. International. A lot of people are involved. The Lighthouse Point PD simply allows them to operate in the bay.”

  “They get paid to look the other way.”

  “Those photos we took last night would have helped.” He grimaced. “The camera was in the duffel, though, and I lost the duffel when we got ambushed.”

  “If they find it, can they ID you?”

  He gave her a wry smile. “I’m too careful for that, but we could have used the tools outside.” A sign hissed between his lips. “The Dorian Rae is key. I need to find out who owns and operated the ship.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “I put in a call earlier this morning.” He set his hand against the cell phone clipped to his belt.

  “The MIDNIGHT Agency.”

  “Yeah.”

  She thought about that a moment. “Are the police still looking for me?”

  “You’re a person of
interest.”

  “In other words, I’m still a suspect.”

  His gaze met hers. “You’d be a hell of a lot safer if I turned you over to the feds.”

  Surprise rippled through her that he would even think of it. “We’ve been over that, Madrid.”

  “And my stance on it hasn’t changed.”

  “If I let myself be taken in, you’ll lose your ace in the hole.”

  A hard glint entered his eyes. “You turn yourself in and I won’t have to worry about some goon sneaking in here in the middle of the night and cutting your throat.”

  She hoped he didn’t see the shudder that ran through her. “Or I can spend the next week sitting in a jail cell while Angela’s real killer is covering his tracks and working to frame me.”

  “You know I won’t let that happen.”

  A rise of anger shot through her. “I have no intention—”

  A knock at the door made them both jump up. Drawing his pistol, Madrid crossed to the door. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Vanderpol. Open up.”

  Madrid’s hand slid away from the gun. He opened the door, leaned against the jamb. “About time.”

  A tall man with military-short hair shook the rain from his trench and stepped inside. Dark, intelligent eyes swept from Madrid to her, then back to Madrid. “Cutter will send me to Siberia if he finds out I met with you.”

  “I’ll be lucky to wind up in Antarctica.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” His eyes sliding back to Jess, he extended his hand. “Jake Vanderpol.”

  His hand was large and rough as it encompassed hers. “Jessica Atwood.”

  He grasped her hand for an instant too long, then released it and turned to Madrid. “I got the information you needed.”

  A silent communication passed between the two men. Jess suddenly felt like an outsider.

  “She knows.” Madrid motioned to the table and settee.

  Jess sat. Madrid slid in beside her.

  “Okay.” Vanderpol took the bench opposite them and tugged a small notebook from the pocket of his trench. “The Dorian Rae is owned by a shipping conglomerate based in San Francisco called Capricorn Intercontinental Shipping.”