Operation: Midnight Tango

by Linda Castillo

“Cutter couldn’t say anything without blowing the entire operation.”

  “You’re lying. I was part of the operation. I knew what was going on.”

  “You didn’t know all of it.”

  Rachael felt as if he’d just thrown a bucket of ice water in her face. Losing Michael had been the worst thing she’d ever endured in her life. For two years she’d believed Viktor Karas was responsible, at least indirectly. She’d dedicated her life to hunting him down and bringing him to justice. Finding out Michael had been working for the wrong side was like a knife in the back. She’d been lied to. Betrayed by the man she loved. By the agency she’d trusted with her life. By the man she’d just given her heart and soul to.

  She stared at Bo, a terrible, burgeoning agony rising inside her. The blood rushing through her veins roared like a white water rapid. She could feel her heart crashing against her ribs. Her breaths rushing short and fast from between clenched teeth.

  Because she didn’t want this man to see just how close she was to coming apart at the seams, she turned away and slipped quickly into her clothes.

  “Rachael?”

  “Stay away from me.” She rose on unsteady legs and walked to her saddlebag. Her knees shook so violently she thought they might buckle. But they didn’t. Like a hundred other times in the last two years, they held when she felt like collapsing into a broken heap. She would get through this. Just like she’d gotten through everything else.

  “I’m sorry, Rachael. I’m so damn sorry. It was a terrible time for all of us. One I’ve relived a thousand times.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Rising, she walked to the kitchen. She found her backpack and reached into it for what she needed.

  Stepping quickly into his jeans, he followed her as far as the kitchen door. She turned to face him. Pain twisted inside her when she looked into his eyes. The pain etched into his every feature was as evident as the pain running through ever fiber of her own heart.

  But all the pain in the world wouldn’t bring back Michael or preserve the memory of him she’d held close since his death.

  Bo wasn’t wearing a shirt, but she didn’t let her gaze drop to his chest. She didn’t let herself admire the sleek male muscle or the thatch of dark hair that tapered to a washboard belly. The belly she’d caressed just minutes before. The memory of what it had felt like to love him broke her heart.

  “I wish there was some way I could change what happened that night,” he said. “But I can’t. It’s done. Mike was a double agent.”

  “There’s no way he was working for Karas,” she said in a shaking voice. “He hated him.”

  “He could have been under duress. Karas could have threatened him in some way, forced him to cooperate. We don’t know.”

  “Why didn’t Cutter tell me? Why wasn’t I briefed, damn it?”

  “Cutter did what he could to protect Mike’s memory, hence the friendly-fire report. Plus, he couldn’t let Karas know we were on to him, so he let everyone believe it had been a friendly-fire incident.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You know I’m not.” Bo stared at her as if he were trying to solve some complex puzzle that refused to come together. “I wanted to tell you a hundred times.”

  “Instead, you ran away and spent the last two years hiding out at this ranch.”

  He looked away. “Something like that.”

  Fresh anger coursed through her at the thought of how she’d been duped. By Sean Cutter. By Bo Ruskin. By the agency she’d devoted her entire adult life to.

  Why, Michael?

  “Rachael, you need to trust me on this. You know I’d never say anything to hurt you.”

  “You already did. You slept with me, and then you lay this on me, you bastard.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”

  “You should have told me…before. It would have changed everything.”

  “Would it?”

  “Yes, damn it! I wouldn’t have—”

  Anger entered his expression. “You know as well as I do that something happened between us. Something we didn’t expect. Something good and right that was meant to be whether you want to admit it or not.”

  She wouldn’t admit it, but he was right. They’d made magic tonight. Magic that had been healing and powerful and totally unexpected. Still, Rachael clung to her anger. It was all she had now. The only thing that was going to get her through this.

  “You think Karas coerced him?” she asked.

  “That’s exactly what I think.”

  “That would have killed him inside,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “How could Karas coerce him?”

  He shrugged. “Karas could have threatened you. We’ll probably never know.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her resolve and struggled to pull herself together. Put her thoughts into order. She knew what she had to do. Not for Michael. Not for Bo or Sean Cutter or even the agency. But for herself.

  She raised her eyes to Bo’s and said the words that would put her plan into motion. “I’m sorry I went off on you like that.”

  “You’re entitled. I’m just sorry I had to tell you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “That’s why you haven’t been able to pick up your weapon.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze. “I developed hoplophobia after the shooting. Fear of firearms.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m handling it.”

  The tears came without effort. “Do you think you could just hold me for a moment?”

  He blinked at her as if her words had surprised him. His expression turned uncertain. Never taking his eyes from hers, he crossed to her. But Rachael couldn’t meet his gaze. She couldn’t look into his eyes knowing what she had to do next.

  His arms went gently around her and she fell against him. His body was warm and solid and incredibly reassuring against hers.

  Closing her eyes, Rachael raised the syringe. “I’m sorry, Bo.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry—”

  She jabbed the needle deeply into his neck and depressed the plunger with her thumb. Reeling backward, he reached up and cupped the injection site. “What the hell did you do?”

  Rachael tossed the spent syringe onto the floor. “It’s styezipam.”

  Styezipam was a fast-acting tranquilizer many of the MIDNIGHT agents carried. In all the years Rachael had been with the agency, she’d never had to use it. It was the ultimate irony that the one and only time she called upon it, she would use it on a fellow agent.

  Bo’s expression went from regret, to shock, to anger. “Rachael, for God’s sake, what are you doing?”

  “What I should have done a long time ago.”

  He gripped his neck as if trying to keep the drug from leaching into his bloodstream. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “The only stupid thing I’ve done lately is sleep with you.” Even though she was furious with Bo for not being truthful with her, the words didn’t ring true.

  “It meant something to me, damn it.” He stepped toward her.

  She stepped back. Though the drug was fast-acting—usually within four to seven minutes—it hadn’t yet taken effect. She would have to be careful because she knew he would try to stop her.

  He took another step toward her. “Stay away from Karas.”

  “Keep your distance, Bo. You can’t stop me.”

  “I’m not going to let you get yourself killed.” He started toward her at a determined clip.

  Rachael backed toward the door. If he got too close she could escape and run to the barn. There was no way he could make it all the way out there before the tranquilizer slowed him down.

  She was right.

  At the table, Bo staggered and leaned heavily against it. Blinking at her, he shook his head as if trying to regain his equilibrium. He lifted his arm as if to reach out to her. “Don’t do this,” he said. “Please.”

  “I have to.”
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br />   He lunged at her, but Rachael stepped quickly back. His knees buckled and hit the floor with a thud, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he stayed on his knees, swaying, staring at her as if his lack of physical mobility stunned him. The truth of the emotions she saw in his eyes twisted her heart into knots.

  “Don’t go.” His words slurred. He tried to move toward her on his knees, but fell forward onto the floor. Rachael hated seeing him immobile, hated it even more than she’d had to resort to drugging him.

  “I’m sorry, Bo,” she whispered and slipped out the door and into the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bo fought the drug, but he knew from experience the powerful tranquilizer would win. He’d administered it himself in the course of his career too many times to have any doubts about its effectiveness. Because he’d had to leave the ranch so suddenly, he hadn’t brought along the antidote that would counteract the drug. Now he had no choice but to ride it out.

  Not an easy chore when the woman he loved was about to get herself killed.

  Loved?

  The thought startled him. He wanted to blame it on the effects of the drug or high emotions left over from a night of lovemaking. But Bo knew his feelings for Rachael had nothing to do with the tranquilizer—and everything to do with his heart.

  “Damn crazy woman.”

  Rolling onto his side, he squinted at his watch. Alarm shot through him when he realized he’d been out for over an hour. Styezipam was fast acting, but its effects were short lived.

  Struggling to his feet, he swayed and looked around. The room tilted once, then leveled off. He blinked against a swirl of dizziness, then staggered to the kitchen.

  “Rachael!” he shouted. “Rachael!”

  But he knew she was gone.

  Grabbing the remaining saddlebag from the table, he stumbled back into the living room. One saddle and blanket lay on the floor; she must have taken the other. Dread curdled in his gut when he realized she’d probably taken one of the horses as well. “Damn. Damn. Damn!” he snarled.

  He scooped up saddle and blanket and headed out the door. Burdened with the tack, dizzy from the aftereffects of the tranquilizer, he ran awkwardly to the shed row.

  Worst-case scenario became a reality when he found only one horse in the shed row. Rachael was not an expert horsewoman; he couldn’t believe she’d taken off on horseback. But considering her frame of mind and the ugly truth he’d thrown at her, he knew she was capable of anything, including going after Viktor Karas.

  The only question that remained was whether or not he was going to be able to stop her before it was too late.

  Holding that terrible thought, he tacked up the horse, tied on the saddlebags, shoved the rifle into its sheath and rode into the night.

  LiGHTNING FLASHED through the canopies of the pinion pines and cottonwood trees as the horse made its way along the dry creek bed. Wind from the approaching storm sent dry leaves skittering along the sandy banks. The yellow grass of the plain beyond whispered like the ghosts of some long dead pioneers.

  Rachael would have preferred a different mode of travel. Not only was she a terrible rider, but the horse was injured. Though the gunshot wound was not life threatening and the animal wasn’t limping, she worried that he was in pain. But the horse was all she had; she was going to have to make do. The weather wasn’t helping matters. Several times the horse had danced when lightning speared the sky and thunder rumbled like the approaching footsteps of some massive beast.

  Reaching down, she patted the animal’s shoulder, hoping he would get her to the cave without mishap—and long before Bo regained consciousness and came after her.

  She’d considered leaving him without a horse. But with Viktor Karas and his thugs so close, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She told herself it had nothing to do with the magic that had transpired between them.

  But it was a bold-faced lie.

  The thought of the precious hours she’d spent cocooned in his arms sent a rolling wave of pain through her center. Rachael had promised herself that after Michael died she would never put her heart on the line again. Giving that much only to risk having it taken away by fate was simply too much to bear.

  She hadn’t counted on Bo Ruskin coming into her life and throwing her carefully laid plans into turmoil. He was kind and caring with a character as firm and solid as stone. He was the kind of man a woman could fall in love with.

  The truth shattered her.

  She’d fallen in love with him.

  The realization struck her with all the violence of the lightning bolts dancing on the horizon. The thought of love frightened her more than the prospect of facing off with Viktor Karas. How in the name of God could she have let that happen? How could she love the man who’d killed her husband?

  But deep inside Rachael knew Bo Ruskin would never do such a thing—unless he had no choice. As painful as his words had been, she knew he wasn’t lying about Michael.

  I shot and killed him because he was working for Karas.

  The enormity of those words crushed her. With sorrow. Grief. Regret. A terrible sense of betrayal. And rage.

  Not all of that fury was focused on Bo. She was also angry with Sean Cutter for not trusting her. But mostly, she was angry with Michael. Why hadn’t he come to her if he were being threatened?

  She couldn’t change the past. All she could do now was deal with what had been thrown at her and make things right as best she could. The only way to do that was to bring a vicious criminal to justice and end his violent reign once and for all.

  Surprisingly, she wasn’t unduly concerned for her own safety. Rachael trusted her skills and her instincts. Her willingness to jump into the fray was one of the things that had made her such a good agent, and so valuable to Sean Cutter. Some of her counterparts thought she was courageous. Some thought her a fool. Some had even accused her of having a death wish.

  The truth of the matter was her current mindset was a combination of all three of those things.

  A couple of miles from the homestead, the creek bed forked and became rocky. Having memorized the map before leaving, Rachael took the left fork and rode the horse up the steep bank and out of the rocks. If her memory served her, the cave was less than a mile ahead, where the creek made a hard curve to the south.

  Stopping the horse, she eased her cell phone from its clip and flipped it open. She hit a series of buttons to activate the GPS chip inside, then dialed the number from which Karas had called her earlier. The kingpin picked up on the second ring.

  “Ah, Ms. Armitage, what a pleasant surprise,” he said in a cultured voice.

  “Where’s Cutter?”

  “He’s, shall we say, resting. He had a tough night.”

  A swirl of horror went through her at the thought of all the things that could have happened to Cutter, but she shoved her emotions aside and went with her instincts. “I’m tired of playing games with you, Karas. Put Cutter on the line and then you and I can talk about making a trade.”

  “Even if I had Cutter in my possession, I’m afraid there are very few things on this earth that would constitute an equal trade.”

  “You’ll trade for what I have in mind. Now, put him on the phone.”

  A full minute passed before rustling sounded on the other end. “Armitage, damn it, what the hell are you doing?”

  Relief swept through her at the sound of Cutter’s voice. But he sounded as if he were under severe stress. “I’m going to save your life,” she said.

  “Put Ruskin on the—”

  His sentence was interrupted abruptly by a groan. The snap of electricity. “Cutter?”

  No answer.

  Rachael closed her eyes, took several deep breaths to keep her emotions in check. They were torturing him. Bastards. She gripped the cell phone. “Cutter?”

  More rustling, then Karas’s voice returned. “Are you ready to negotiate?” he asked.

  “I’m willing to make a trade.” She closed her eyes
tightly. “Your son’s remains for the safe return of Sean Cutter.”

  Karas laughed. “You’re in no position to make demands.”

  “If you want your son’s remains, I suggest you shut your mouth and listen.”

  The silence that followed sent gooseflesh down her arms. “If I were you, I’d be very careful about what I say,” he said in a dangerous tone.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she spat. “I’ve never been afraid of you. I think you’re pathetic. Your son was pathetic.”

  She could practically feel the fury coming through the line. She knew better than to taunt him; Viktor Karas was a brutal man and more than capable of making good on any threat. But Rachael knew it was the only way to manipulate a man who himself was a master manipulator.

  “Your courage borders on foolhardiness,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of that.”

  “Many of the people at your organization think you have a death wish.”

  “Maybe you think you can oblige.”

  Another laugh, only this time, it was an ugly, dangerous sound. “What trap have you set for me, Ms. Armitage?”

  “All I want is Cutter.”

  “How is it that you have possession of my son’s remains?”

  “Not in my possession, but I know where his body is. It’s unguarded. You give me Cutter, I give you the location.”

  Rachael let the silence work for a moment, knowing she had his undivided attention. Then she said, “I have GPS coordinates for you.” She rattled off the coordinates of the caves Bo had told her about. “Bring Cutter. In a chopper. If I don’t see him, the trade is off and you will never bring your son home.”

  She could hear the click of laptop keys in the background. The beep of a laptop computer. And she knew he was entering her GPS coordinates to locate her position.

  “What’s to stop me from killing both of you?” he asked.

  “I’m well-armed, so don’t try anything stupid.”

  “You really are a foolhardy bitch,” he said mildly.

  “And you want your son back.”

  A guttural scream sounded in the background. Rachael closed her eyes and tried not to think about what they were doing to Cutter.