Operation: Midnight Guardian

The sound of footsteps sent him diving for cover in a blanket of juniper. Peering through the foliage, he caught a glimpse of blond hair and pale skin. He heard the hiss of panicked breaths rushing through clenched teeth.

Logan.

He caught her arm as she passed. Carried by the momentum of her sprint, she stumbled and nearly fell, but Cutter caught her. He slapped a hand over her mouth, catching the scream that would have revealed their position. He felt an impression of soft skin and small bones within his grasp. The hint of lemon and rosemary in silky hair as she swung around. But all of those things were punctuated by panic and terror. A dangerous state if he didn’t gain control of the situation pronto.

No time to take her to the ground and subdue her. No time for an explanation. For an instant, she fought back like an animal snared in the deadly teeth of a steel trap. He made eye contact and gave her a hard shake. “If you want to live, come with me,” he said in a low voice.

She went still and blinked at him as if waking from a bad dream. “I…I thought you were d-dead.”

“So did they, evidently.” He looked over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” he said and hauled her into a dead run.

A DEAD MAN had saved her life.

It was the only thought Mattie’s brain could manage. She didn’t know how, but somehow Cutter had survived a gunshot to the chest. Though at the moment, running from men bent on killing them, she didn’t necessarily care.

Snow and sleet blinded her as she ran. It took every ounce of physical ability she possessed to keep up with Cutter and maintain her footing. One tiny miscalculation and she would fall—a mistake that would surely prove deadly.

It felt as if they had been running forever. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion. Mattie didn’t know how she kept going. The primal will to live.

“Whoa. Easy.”

She felt a hard tug on her hand. Cutter was pulling her back, slowing her down.

“Can’t…stop,” she panted.

“It’s okay.”

“They’ll kill us.”

“I’m not going to let them kill anyone.”

Mattie looked over her shoulder, but the trail they’d just traveled was deserted. She listened for footsteps, but the only sound came from their labored breathing and the soft thud of sleet against the ground.

Giving her a look that told her he was too damn beat to give chase if she decided to take off, Cutter released her, then bent at the hip to gulp air. “We need to rest, catch our breath.”

Mattie thought about running, but her legs had evidently decided they’d had enough exertion for one day. When she started to walk away, her knees buckled. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, and for a moment she could do nothing but breathe.

“Take a moment to catch your breath. Then we’ve got to keep moving.”

Mattie raised her head and glared at him. “It’s going to take a lot longer than a moment for me to catch my breath.”

They’d stopped in a small clearing. The boughs of the piñon pines were covered with snow. Mattie wondered if they’d gained elevation. If that was why it seemed colder, the air thinner and more difficult to breathe.

“Come on.” Cutter crossed to her and extended his hand. “Time to go.”

Mattie considered refusing his hand. But she wasn’t sure she could rise on her own, so she reached for him. “Back at the chopper, how did you manage the fire?”

“I didn’t.” He pulled her to her feet. “What you saw was a smoke grenade. A diversion.”

No, she thought. He was no ordinary cop. But if he wasn’t a cop what agency was he with? CIA? Homeland Security? She wondered why he had been sent to take her back. Why not local law enforcement? Why not the FBI or the U.S. Marshals Service.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m the man who’s going to keep you alive.” His icy blue eyes burned into hers. “Right now, that’s all you need to know.”

THE SON OF A BITCH had beaten him at his own game once again.

The Jaguar paced the snow-covered ground with the sleek elegance of his namesake. Dark anticipation and a keen sense of unfinished business had him feeling restless and edgy. Not only was Sean Cutter alive, but he was psychologically and physically sound and working for the CIA again. That more than anything surprised The Jaguar. By all rights, the man should be dead. At the very least he should be locked in a padded cell.

He and the federal agent went way back, but their relationship was far from amicable. Cutter was the only man The Jaguar had not been able to break. Even under torture, the agent had maintained his silence. He’d defied a black art form The Jaguar had made his business and built a reputation upon. The sense of failure had nagged at him for two years. This time, he would make certain Sean Cutter talked, then was tortured and killed.

Bracing himself against the cold north wind, The Jaguar lit a cigarette and walked to the chopper, where two of his men were working on the engine.

“What is the status?” he asked.

“Operable.”

“Excellent.”

“The smoke was evidently from a smoke grenade and did little damage to the engine.”

A diversion, he thought. How very like Sean Cutter… Hatred churned inside him. He looked up at the swirling snow, felt the dark anticipation stir. “Is the chopper equipped with infrared?”

The other man smiled. “The American government spares no expense when it comes to hunting down those who would question their absolute power.”

The Jaguar nodded. “I want the scientist and Sean Cutter. I want them alive. And I want them now.”

“The weather could be a problem.”

He turned his gaze on the other man. “The last man who questioned my wishes lasted for fourteen hours in my torture chamber. When I tired of his screams I shot him. Perhaps you want to test your endurance?”

The other man looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing twice in quick succession. “I am merely looking out for your safety.”

“That would best be done once we’re airborne.”

“I understand.”

The Jaguar scanned the rugged countryside, feeling an uncomfortable urgency to finish what should already have been done. “They couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Not on foot and in this weather. They have no gear. No weapon or radio.”

The Jaguar said nothing. But he knew the other man underestimated Sean Cutter. He himself had underestimated the federal agent two years ago. He would not make the same mistake twice.

CUTTER HAD NO PROBLEM with risking his life for the safety and security of the American people. What he didn’t like was the idea of risking his life for the likes of a traitor like Mattie Logan. He had zero tolerance for anyone low enough to betray their country.