Operation: Midnight Escape

“Calm down. Damn it, it’s me. Jake.”

Leigh stopped struggling. A shudder moved through her when she realized who it was. At precisely the same time it struck her that every hard angle of his muscular body fit against hers with the utter perfection of a well-worn kid glove. Her body recognized his on some primal, instinctive level and responded. Breathing hard, trembling violently beneath him, she blinked the hair from her eyes, trying to make out his features in the semidarkness.

The sight of him hit her with the power of a hollow point bullet. Her heart dipped and then spun into a wild freefall. She stared at him, unable to move, a hundred emotions descending in a rush….

“Get off of me!” she cried.

Operation: Midnight Escape

Linda Castillo

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Linda Castillo knew at a very young age that she wanted to be a writer—and penned her first novel at the age of thirteen. She is the winner of numerous writing awards, including the Holt Medallion, the Golden Heart, the Daphne du Maurier and received a nomination for the prestigious RITA® Award.

Linda loves writing edgy romantic suspense novels that push the envelope and take her readers on a roller-coaster ride of breathtaking romance and thrilling suspense. She resides in Texas with her husband, four lovable dogs and an Appaloosa named George. For a complete list of her books, check out her Web site at www.lindacastillo.com. Contact her at books@lindacastillo.com Or write her at P.O. Box 577, Bushland, Texas 79012.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jake Vanderpol—Six years ago this MIDNIGHT operative sold his soul to bring down his nemesis—and it cost him the only woman he’d ever loved. Will he make the same mistake twice?

Leigh Michaels—She’s running for her life from a killer who is obsessed with her. Can she trust Jake Vanderpol to keep her safe?

Ian Rasmussen—Escaped from prison, he doesn’t care about running away. All he cares about is revenge against the woman who testified against him. The woman he’d once loved.

Sean Cutter—Burned out from twelve years of deep undercover work for the CIA, he is facing his first professional crisis as lead agent for the MIDNIGHT team. He must decide if Jake Vanderpol is a rogue agent or a godsend.

Mike Madrid—A master computer hacker with a shady past. He was the only agent who knew where Jake and Leigh had fled. Did he give up their location to Rasmussen?

Rick Monteith—Ex-cop turned rookie agent. He will do anything to prove himself. When the test comes, will he be ready?

Derrick LeValley—This deputy U.S. Marshal accepted a cool one million dollars and became a fugitive from the law to help Ian Rasmussen escape from a federal prison. Will he live long enough to spend the money?

Ronald Waite—The star reporter for a tabloid who agreed to help the MIDNIGHT agency with a sting. Will he reveal his anonymous source under torture?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Prologue

Facing the bitter November wind, convicted international arms dealer Ian Rasmussen gazed at the bleak Missouri countryside. He breathed in deeply, savoring the sweet tang of freedom after six brutal years without it.

The semi’s diesel engine idled on the other side of the rest area, rumbling like thunder. According to the driver’s logbook the truck’s shipment of Italian furniture would be delivered to a furniture warehouse in Denver that very night. What the logbook didn’t reveal was that a hidden room had been built in the front section of the rig’s trailer—a ten-by-four-foot room complete with heat, a fully stocked wet bar, television set, satellite phone and a leather recliner.

Even on the run from every law-enforcement organization in the Midwest, Ian Rasmussen liked to travel in style.

Shivering with cold, the driver stood outside his door, smoking a cigarette. The passenger door swung open and Derrick LeValley, former deputy marshal, stepped out into the gray light of dusk. For a cool million dollars, Rasmussen had bought him off. The price had been steep, but worth every penny.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rasmussen, but we have to go. The feds are expanding their search as we speak. It’s best if we keep moving until the situation cools down.”

Rasmussen turned to LeValley, who, just five hours ago, had walked into the Terre Haute Federal Prison with fake transport papers and had exited with him. LeValley had then taken him to this big rig and they’d been driving west ever since.

“I want to see the list,” Rasmussen said.

LeValley reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew the computer printout. “You don’t know what it took to get my hands on this information. It cost a man his life. You owe me another fifty thousand.”

“You’ll get your money,” Rasmussen snapped, then turned his attention to the list. “How many names?”

“Two hundred plus.”

“Excellent.” Holding on to the printout that listed the new identities and addresses of over two hundred witnesses from the Witness Security Program database, Rasmussen felt a heady rush of power. There were a lot of people who would pay top dollar for this information. But he was only interested in one name. He flipped to the second page, his eyes scanning, seeking…

Leigh Michaels.

Her name was highlighted in yellow. Beneath it, her address had been underlined in blue ink—345 West Fourth Street, Apt. 310, Denver, Colorado.

Kelsey James was now Leigh Michaels.

She could change her name, but she couldn’t hide…

He ran his thumb over the name, and the old emotions began to churn inside him. Love that had putrefied into something darker than hatred. She had been a nobody when he’d met her. A waitress earning next to nothing. He’d taken her in. Given her everything a woman could ever want. He’d trusted her, loved her. He’d offered her his heart; she’d taken his soul. She’d thanked him with treachery, betrayed him in every way a woman could betray a man.

Now, if it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to make her pay.

For a dangerous moment he considered calling her. He wanted to hear her beautiful voice tremble with fear. He wanted her to know he was coming for her. She deserved to suffer, the way he’d suffered for six torturous years.

“Mr. Rasmussen, we have to go.” Derrick LeValley went to the cargo door and opened it.

Rasmussen folded the list and walked to the rig. “You have someone watching her?”

“Since yesterday. She’s on the move, but they’ve got her covered.”

“I want to be in Denver by dark.”

“We’re right on schedule.”

Rasmussen climbed into the trailer and headed toward the hidden room. There was much to do, but he couldn’t do any of it until he dealt with Kelsey. She came first, above all else. Only then could he think about the rest of his life.

He entered the hidden compartment. Sweat slicked his back when LeValley closed the door behind him. The old claustrophobia descended. But even sweating and shaking, he was aware of the list in his pocket, of her name taunting him with the promise of sweet revenge.

By nightfall he would have her in his sights. He would come down on her so fast she wouldn’t even know what hit her. Then he would take his time with her. He would make her pay for what she’d done. He closed his eyes, an image of her coming back to him with painful clarity. She’d been so innocent. So incredibly lovely….

Kelsey…

She’d cost him more than any man should ever have to pay. Six years of violence and humiliation. But sending him to prison wasn’t the worst of what she’d done. His lovely Kelsey had not only betrayed his trust, but his heart. She’d given her body to another man. A federal agent. The very man who’d destroyed his life. No woman did that to Ian Rasmussen and lived to tell about it.

Not even the most beautiful woman in the world.

Chapter One

Jake Vanderpol didn’t like surprises, especially nasty ones that came via his secure phone line in the middle of the night courtesy of the MIDNIGHT Agency.

“We’ve got a Code Red. All available agents report to duty ASAP. All unavailable agents are on standby. I repeat, Code Red…”

That was only the first in a series of bad news events. At 5:00 a.m. he was on the road and heading toward the MIDNIGHT Agency headquarters located in a small, nondescript building just west of Washington, D.C. A news junkie, he’d heard about the escape of Ian Rasmussen on the radio and just about ran his Hummer off the road.

By the time he swung the vehicle into the underground parking lot and jammed it into a reserved spot, he was on edge. He couldn’t stop thinking about the young woman who, six years ago, had helped him nail the international arms dealer. It was the one and only time Jake had ever gotten personally involved with a witness. The one and only time he’d ever crossed that line. A line that in the end had nearly cost him his job.

Even after all this time, he still saw her face when he closed his eyes. He still smelled her perfume mingling with the sweet scent of her skin. He still dreamed of her—hot, sweaty dreams that left him hard and aching and full of regret. Worse, he still wanted her with a ferocity that shook him to his core.

He’d chalked up more mistakes in the one week he’d known her than in his entire career. She made him crazy, and he’d nearly thrown it all away. But in the end, when it had come time for her to walk away and start her new life, she hadn’t looked back….

Shoving thoughts of the past away with the resolve of a man who did it far too often, Jake shut down the engine and hit the ground running. The MIDNIGHT Agency headquarters was lit up like a football stadium. At the front entrance two armed security officers nodded curtly when he flashed his badge. Rather than wait for the elevator, Jake ducked into the stairwell and took the steps two at a time to the third floor.

The instant he entered the hall he could hear voices coming from the “war” room. It was a large conference room that was transformed into a command center whenever there was a crisis. Jake figured the escape of a violent international arms dealer qualified as a crisis and then some.

He entered the room without knocking. All eyes swept to Jake. Four MIDNIGHT operatives sat around an oval conference table covered with paper. Two laptops were connected to a printer that was spitting out more paper.

Fellow operative Mike Madrid looked as if he’d been dragged from his bed, flogged and hastily dressed. A computer software hacker by trade, he was working on a laptop with one hand, gripping a cup of coffee with the other.

The two other agents in the room, Zack Devlin and Rick Monteith, didn’t meet his gaze, and Jake realized there was a reason he’d been the last team member called. That reason ticked him off.

“Looks like I missed the party,” Jake said to no one in particular.

The room went silent and tense, as if someone had tossed in a grenade and the agents could do nothing but wait for the explosion. Jake wasn’t sure if the impending confrontation would qualify as an explosion, but it was definitely going to be loud.

They shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, averting their eyes. Coffee was sipped, fingers drummed, pencils tapped.

The agency chief, Sean Cutter, sat at the head of the table, his blue eyes cold when they fastened on Jake. “This briefing is over,” he said.

Jake ignored his fellow operatives as they filed from the room. “Rasmussen is out and you didn’t bother calling me, damn it.”

“I’ve assigned other agents. They’re capable and—”

“This is my case.”

Cutter’s eyes flashed. “This is whomever’s case I see fit to assign it to.”

“I built it from the ground up—”

“You slept with your witness!” Cutter snapped. “You screwed it up and I have no intention of letting you do it again.”

“You know I’m the best man for the job,” Jake ground out.

“I know you’re too personally involved to be effective.”

Jake’s heart was pounding. He wanted to believe it was anger ricocheting through his body. But he could feel the fear pumping through him with every frenzied beat of his heart. He didn’t want to ask about Kelsey. He didn’t want to think about her or feel anything for her. But he did, and those emotions were tearing him up. He had to know if she was okay. Every agent who’d been in that room knew Rasmussen was going to go after her. He couldn’t bring himself to think about what would happen if he found her.

“Is she all right?” he asked.

“As far as we know.”

“What the hell do you mean as far as you know?”

The other man’s jaw flexed and Jake got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “This is bigger than just Kelsey James,” Cutter said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone hacked into the Witness Security Program database.”

Disbelief and a deeper, darker fear reared inside him. “No way.”

“This hacker has names and addresses. Every agent I’ve got is scrambling. Every witness who’s ever gone into the Witness Security Program is in danger. We’re trying to prioritize, but how the hell do you prioritize when you have more witnesses than agents?”

Jake felt as if he’d been punched. “Rasmussen?”

“I don’t know, but the timing of it points to him. He certainly has the resources.”

He stared at his superior, his mind reeling as the repercussions of what he was being told hit home. “Where’s Kelsey James?”

Cutter looked away.

“For God’s sake, you don’t know, do you?”

“I had an agent check her apartment as soon as we heard. CNN just broke the news. She must have heard about Rasmussen and left before we could make contact.”

Jake swore. That sounded like Kelsey. Head-strong. Stubborn. Willing to take on the world all by herself if she had to. But she had to be running scared, and with good reason. If Rasmussen got his hands on her…

The thought made Jake break into a cold sweat. His protective instincts kicked in with a vengeance. “At this point it’s probably safe to assume he has her name and address.”

“This is not your case, Jake. I need you here. There are administrative—”

“Screw administrative!” Another curse burned through the air. “I’m not going to let him get her, Sean.”

“I’ve got another agent en route.”

“Come on! You’ve got two hundred federal witnesses to protect and twenty agents! Do the math!”

“We’re working with the U.S. Marshals Service to contain all the witnesses.”

Jake cursed.

“I need you here, Jake. But I need your head screwed on straight. If you can’t keep it together you need to walk away.”

“I’m not going to let him kill that young woman,” Jake ground out.

“She knew what she was getting into six years ago.”

“She knew. But so did we, didn’t we, Sean?”

“Don’t go there, Jake. You did your job, and so did I.”

“Yeah. Maybe a little too well.” Jake scrubbed a hand over his face, a harsh sound breaking from his throat. “Where is she?”

Cutter stared at him, his face as hard as a piece of granite. “Don’t make the wrong decision, Vanderpol. I covered for you last time this woman got under your skin. I won’t do it again.”

“Is that the way this is going to go down?” Jake asked.

“That’s the only way this can go down.”

Never taking his eyes from the other man’s, Jake removed his MIDNIGHT identification from his wallet and laid it on the conference table. Reaching beneath his jacket, he withdrew his government-issue service revolver and laid it next to the badge.

“Now you don’t have to cover for me,” he said, and then walked out the door.

A SLATE-GRAY PREDAWN SKY spat sleet as Leigh Michaels lugged her suitcase into the second-floor motel room and locked the door behind her. Fear had been her constant companion since fleeing her apartment in Denver.

She’d always known this terrible moment would come. Rasmussen was too powerful a man, his resources too far-reaching for any prison to contain him permanently.

Shaking, Leigh pulled the sleek H&K semiautomatic pistol from her waistband and set it on the night table, within easy reach. She didn’t bother unpacking, because there was always the chance she would be leaving quickly. She didn’t want to have to leave behind what few clothes and toiletries she owned.

She walked to the television and turned it to a cable news channel, hoping to hear that Rasmussen had been captured. The anchor immediately dashed her hopes. “An unidentified source has informed us that the database of the Witness Security Program was hacked into over the weekend. Over two hundred names of high-level federal witnesses have been stolen….”

Leigh felt each word like a vicious punch. For an instant she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t think. She could feel the terror building inside her.

Ian Rasmussen had to be behind the theft of the database records. Even if the television wasn’t reporting the connection.

“Oh, God.” Standing abruptly, she put her hand to her stomach and choked back a sound of pure terror.

Ian Rasmussen knew her new identity. He knew her name. Her address.

For an instant she considered calling her old contact at the U.S. Marshals Service office in Boulder. Then she remembered what had happened the last time she’d put her trust in a government agency and nixed the idea.

The image of Jake Vanderpol flashed in her mind. She saw dark, intelligent eyes. Military-short hair. A lean face and chiseled mouth. A body as hard and breathtaking as the Rocky Mountains themselves.

She’d trusted him with her life. She’d given him her heart. Her body. A piece of her soul. He’d taken all of those things with a ravenousness that had left her half-crazy with the need for more. She’d fallen hard for the brooding agent. But the intimacies they’d shared hadn’t been enough to keep him from using her as a means to an end.

Shoving the memory back into its deep, dark hole, Leigh sat down hard on the bed and put her face in her hands. “Calm down,” she whispered into the silence of the room.

There was no way Rasmussen could have tracked her here. She’d been too cautious, watching out for cars traveling too close. She would have remembered seeing the same vehicle twice. No one had followed her.

Still, she knew it was best if she didn’t stay too long. She needed to keep moving. Once she’d put enough distance between her and Denver, she would stop in a new city, create a new identity, start a new life. It was her only hope of staying alive.

All she had to do was stay one step ahead of Rasmussen.

Glancing at the alarm clock on the night table next to the bed, she sighed. It was almost 7:00 a.m. She’d been driving most of the night. She needed a shower. Food. A few hours of sleep. Then she would hit the road again. If all went as planned, by tomorrow she would be in Kansas City. A place where she had no ties. No one had any reason to look for her there. All she had to do was stay alert and be cautious.

Feeling the hard tug of exhaustion, Leigh lay back on the bed, not bothering to take off her clothes or boots. The H&K was within easy reach, and she had a knife in her boot as backup in case she was caught unaware. But she didn’t think anything would happen. No one knew she was here.

But as sleep overtook her, it occurred to her that she’d underestimated Ian Rasmussen once before, and it had cost her more than she ever could have imagined.

LEIGH JOLTED AWAKE. Lying on her side, she remained perfectly still, listening, her heart pounding. The room around her was cold and silent and dimly lit. The clock on the night table told her she’d been asleep just over an hour. What the hell had wakened her?

In the past six years Leigh had learned to trust her instincts. Right now those instincts were telling her something was wrong. She could feel gooseflesh racing along her arms.

The doorknob squeaked. She sat up, her heart hammering like a piston in her chest.

A second later the door flew open and banged against the wall. A man looking to be as large as a mountain in the semidarkness of the room rushed in. She scrambled across the bed, her hand groping for the H&K on the night table. A dozen scenarios rushed through her mind as her hand closed around the grip. No time to think. Aim and fire, just like at the shooting range where she’d practiced so many hours in preparation of this terrible moment.

She brought up the gun, swung the weapon around. An instant later, a strong hand clamped around her wrist. “Drop it,” came a growled command.

But Leigh knew if she let go of the gun she was as good as dead. She screamed when he squeezed her wrist. “No!”

A gunshot exploded. Plaster rained down from the ceiling. She fought for control of the weapon with all her might, but even with all the self-defense classes she’d taken in the past six years she wasn’t prepared for the strength and speed of her attacker.

A final, painful squeeze to her wrist and the gun clattered to the floor. The last of her hope fled as she heard the intruder kick it away.

He’s going to kill me, she thought.

Knowing she had to act quickly if she wanted to live, Leigh used her free hand to reach for the knife in her boot. She’d barely gotten her fingers around the rubber grip when he locked both her wrists in his hands and shoved her back onto the bed. She tried to knee him, but he twisted aside just in time then came down on top of her.

She lashed out with her feet. But he was heavy and strong and overpowered her with ease.

“Calm down, Kelsey. Damn it, it’s me. Jake.”

Everything inside her froze at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice. Leigh stopped struggling, her body suddenly recognizing his on some primal, instinctive level. Every hard angle of his muscular body fit against hers with the perfection of a well-worn glove.

Breathing hard, she stared at him, unable to move, a confusion of emotions descending in a rush.

He glared down at her with dark eyes. His thin nose looked as if it had been broken and never properly set. His chiseled mouth was pulled into a grimace. But she knew from experience that his mouth could be gentle, too. That it could kiss a woman senseless if she wasn’t careful….

“Get off me!” she cried.

His nostrils flared with every labored breath. He was staring at her as if she were a ghost and he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing her. “Just be still,” he said. “Don’t fight me. You know I won’t hurt you.”

But Leigh knew that was the one thing Jake Vanderpol did exceptionally well. Something she would not let him do again. “You have no right to be here. To break into my room—”

“I’m here to save your life,” he cut in. “If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll let me do it.”

Chapter Two

Jake knew better than to think of how good she felt beneath him. She was a witness desperately needing protection. At least, until Rasmussen was captured or the U.S. Marshals Service could take over. But when it came to Kelsey James, the logic and the good sense he’d always prided himself on never so much as entered the picture: not six years ago when he’d crossed too many lines to count; not now because he had a pretty good idea that he was going to be crossing even more.