Operation: Midnight Escape

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.”