“Consider it done.”
The man in the wingback chair smiled. “Damn, you’re cold-blooded.”
The man behind the desk leaned back in his executive chair and studied the two men before him. “Once word is out that there has been a jailbreak, that an Irish terrorist had inside help, that he is armed and dangerous, killing them shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What if local law enforcement nabs them first?”
“You had better make sure that doesn’t happen. I want them dead before they do any damage to the RZ-902 program. Make sure Devlin gets the blame for killing the woman. We don’t need any more complications.”
“I understand.”
“Make sure you do.” He glanced at the file he’d just read. “If all else fails and you can’t get to Devlin, get the woman and bring her to me. Devlin will
follow.” He raised his gaze to the other man’s. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” The man in the wingback chair smiled.
“Yes, sir,” Underwood said and fled the room.
Chapter Ten
Emily stood beneath the hot spray of the shower and let the water beat down on her. She was so exhausted she felt as if her bones were melting. Her mind reeled with everything that had occurred in the last hours. She couldn’t believe she was on the run for her life. That the people she’d spent the last three years working for were trying to kill her. That those same people were responsible for unspeakable acts of torture—and murder. That a man she was insanely attracted to was some kind of secret agent for some obscure government agency she’d never heard of.
Shutting off the squeaky old faucets, she stepped out of the shower and quickly dried herself. Her panties and bra were neatly draped over the shower rod, freshly washed. A white terry-cloth robe hung on a hook at the back of the door. Trying not to think of how she was going to feel facing Zack in nothing more than a robe, she slipped it on and knotted the belt at her waist.
“You’re just tired, Monroe,” she muttered as she wrapped her hair in a towel.
Not giving herself time to think about it, she swung open the door. The sight of Zack standing at the window without a shirt stopped her cold. Emily had seen plenty of male chests in her time. More often than not, she wasn’t the least bit affected one way or another. But Zack Devlin’s chest was a work of art. A masterpiece sculpted by an artist with an eye for sensual male beauty.
She felt his gaze on her as she moved to the table, but for the life of her she couldn’t look at him. She didn’t trust her expression not to give her away. Her cheeks were burning with a blush she couldn’t seem to control. She couldn’t stop thinking about what it had been like to kiss him….
“We need to talk,” he said.
His words brought her out of her erotic reverie, and Emily glanced his way. He was looking at her as if she were a puzzle far beyond his capabilities. She could feel the zing of her pulse, her heart thumping against her ribs.
Tying the robe more tightly about her body, she sank onto the bed. For the first time it registered that there was only one bed in the room. That they were exhausted and badly in need of sleep if they were going to keep going. That she was suddenly filled with a strange sense of anticipation….
“I want you to tell me exactly why you became suspicious of Lockdown, Inc.,” he said. “Only, I need details, dates and names this time.”
“We’ve already been over this.”
“We’re missing something. Figuring out what that is is the only way we’re going to get through this.” Zack crossed to her and sat down on the bed. “I need to know everything, even if you think it may not be important.”
He wasn’t touching her, but Emily could feel the heat from his body, her nerves tingling in response. Steeling herself against feelings she didn’t want to have, she folded her hands and looked down at them. “As a corrections officer, you get to know the inmates,” she said. “Seeing them every day, you know which ones are trouble and which ones just want to do their time in peace. Even though we’re trained never to get involved in any way with the inmates, the corrections officers are human beings. We talk to them. We get to like some of them.”
She raised her gaze to Zack’s, wondering if he could understand, if he had ever seen the corrections officers as anything but agents of humiliation and cruelty. “I was assigned to Big Jimmie Jack’s cell block. In the three months I was there, I got to know him. I liked him, Zack. Even though he was a criminal, a lifer, he had lots of redeeming qualities I couldn’t help but respond to. He had a good sense of humor. He was polite and liked to read Keats. He was a talented artist and painted several oil paintings a month. He was one of the ones who just wanted to do his time in peace. Over the months we developed a mutual respect for each other.” Remembering, she pursed her lips. “Then one day he just
disappeared. This big, burly, healthy guy. None of the other officers knew what had happened to him. I checked the infirmary report, but he wasn’t listed.”
“That was when you began investigating,” Zack said.
She nodded. “It was then that I remembered one other inmate disappearing. Jinx Ramirez was different than Jimmie. He was always mouthing off. He assaulted one of the corrections officers and spent time in the Special Housing unit. I was assigned to him for a while, but I never liked him and I never trusted him. Before my assignment was up, he, too, disappeared. I didn’t think too much about it, assuming he had been transferred. To be perfectly honest, I was relieved to be rid of him. But after Big Jimmie Jack disappeared, I started looking around. I found out Jinx Ramirez had also been sent to the infirmary. Like Big Jimmie Jack, Jinx didn’t appear on the report and he never came out. At that point I remembered another incident a few months earlier involving an inmate who seemed healthy before going into the infirmary. When he came out, he was covered with lesions. He went into respiratory distress and died in his cell a few days later. At that point I started getting suspicious.”
“Who did you talk to?”
“The other corrections officers at first. When they couldn’t help, I went to my immediate supervisor, Sergeant Gaines.”
“Jackson Gaines?”
She looked at him, surprised that he knew the name of her superior. “You know him?”
“Enough to know he’s a ruthless son of a bitch.”
“What makes you say that?”
Zack’s jaw flexed. “I’ve read his profile, Emily.”
“What profile?”
“The one MIDNIGHT put together before I went into that hellhole—and warned me that Gaines was in this up to his sergeant stripes.”
“How is he involved?”
Zack scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Several years ago Gaines was the warden in a prison outside Mexico City. We believe an organization based in Paris was manufacturing biological agents, shipping them to the prison for testing. Fifty-three inmates disappeared while Gaines was warden. We could never prove any of it.”
“My God.” For the first time the breadth of what was happening at the Bitterroot facility struck her. Nausea rose and she pressed her hand to her stomach. “We can’t let this go on. We have to stop them.”
“How well do you know Marcus Underwood?”
Absently she rubbed the bullet wound beneath the sleeve of her robe. “I’ve know him for three years. I can’t reconcile myself to his being responsible for something so heinous.”
“What about Warden Carpenter?”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve known him since I was a teenager. My father worked for him. They were friends.”
He was there for me after my father was killed,
a protective little voice chimed in.
“That makes him innocent?”
“I know him, Zack. Carpenter is a decent man. I can’t imagine him being involved in something like…murder.”
“Someone is.”
“Not Carpenter.”
Zack’s expression told her he didn’t share her view.
“What do we do next?” she asked.
He grimaced, looking suddenly as if the weight of the world had been lowered onto his broad shoulders. “Normally I would be able to call my contact at MIDNIGHT. They’d send someone to pick us up. Pick you up.”
“But you can’t because you’re not sure who to trust,” she said.
He nodded. “I need to figure out who at MIDNIGHT compromised this mission.”
“Are you absolutely certain someone did? Maybe your identity was discovered some other way.”
“The agency is extremely careful, Emily. They know an agent’s cover can mean the difference between life and death.”
A powerful chill swept through her as she realized what they were up against. “Do you have any enemies within the agency?”
He shook his head. “None that I know of.”
“How many people knew about your mission?”
“Only a handful. My boss, Avery Shaw. My contact, a senior operative by the name of Tatum Massey. The two agents sent in with me. One or two
administrative people.” His gaze collided with hers. “All of these people are screened and hold high-security clearances.”
“Why would someone betray you knowing you could be killed?”
He seemed to consider that a moment. “Money is the logical motivation. The RZ-902 operation is big and the financial stake is astronomical.”
“How are you going to find them?”
“The same way you catch any rat,” he said. “You set a trap.”
Emily didn’t like the sound of that. Traps required bait. She didn’t want to think about what he might use as bait. Or what it might end up costing both of them. “What kind of trap do you have in mind?”
“I get to a phone. Call my regular contact. Set up a meet. If I get an ambush, I’ll have found the rat.”
“What if the rat kills you first?” Not liking the way the words felt on her tongue, she rose from the bed and began to pace the room.
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
She shook her head. “Too dangerous. We have to find another way.”
“There is no ‘we,’ Emily. I’ve already told you too much. It ends here.”
“It’s my life you’re talking about, Devlin. My conscience. My career. Everything I’ve ever worked for.”
“We’re not talking about your life. We’re talking about your death.” Something dark and frightening
flashed in his eyes. “I want no part of that. Do you understand?”
“I’m not going to sit around and do nothing while these people continue to torture and maim and murder. I’m involved, damn it.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know!” To her horror, her voice cracked on the last word. She knew it was the fatigue tearing down her defenses; she was so exhausted she couldn’t think straight.
Because she didn’t want Zack to see just how close she was to a meltdown, she turned and started for the bathroom. She was almost there when a strong hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Emily. Before I can keep you safe, I need your cooperation.”
She could feel the tears building and fought them valiantly. Emily didn’t cry often. She’d always seen tears as a sign of weakness. But she was tired and scared and in so far over her head she didn’t know what to do next. She didn’t know who to trust.
“I can’t stand the thought of those men dying because I didn’t do anything to stop it,” she said.
“This is not your fault.”
“I’m part of Lockdown, Inc. I’ve worked at the Bitterroot facility for three years.”
“You had no way of knowing what they were doing.”
She wanted desperately to believe him, but in
some small, unreasonable part of her mind she’d already taken responsibility. Blinking back tears, she met his gaze levelly. “I’m going to be involved whether you like it or not.”
“You don’t know the extent of this. Damn it, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“I know enough. I will not stand aside and let it happen. I can’t do that any more than you can. I need to do this,” she whispered. “Please. Let me help you stop this.”
“Why, for God’s sake?” he shouted.
“Because I need to be able to live with myself!”
He stared hard at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. The only sound came from the wind tearing around the window, the occasional ping of heat from the woodstove.
“Emily…”
In the next instant, the dynamics of the situation capitulated. Zack’s expression changed from strained to slightly baffled. Intensity burned in his eyes as his gaze swept down her face and stopped on her mouth. Suddenly she was keenly aware of his proximity. That he was tall and muscular and devastatingly male. That her senses were humming with a tension that had nothing to do with Lockdown, Inc. and everything to do with the man standing so close she could hear the hiss of his breath.
She stared at him, wanting to deny what she knew would happen next. Something that was every bit as dangerous to her as the men chasing them but in a very different way. Her intellect told her to turn and
walk away. It reminded her that she should be concentrating on the mystery and not this man who seemed to put her under a spell every time he touched her.
But Emily’s heart betrayed her intellect. When he leaned close and set his mouth against hers, all thought of pulling away and doing the right thing evaporated as the pleasure sank in and went all the way through her.
Need pulsed when his arms went around her. Heat surged when he pulled her against him. His body was like hot steel against hers. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal against her cleft, sliding and seeking…her. Desire flashed, then spread like wildfire. She could feel it leaping though her body like flames, burning her, frightening her with its unleashed power.
Emily had had two serious relationships in her life. But nothing she’d ever experienced had prepared her for the way this man kissed her. Or for the way her body responded.
Her arms went around his neck. As if by its own accord, her body shifted against his shaft.
An instant later he shoved her to arm’s length. The action startled her, breaking the spell of her desire-induced haze. His hands were tight around her arms as he stared down at her, his pupils so dilated they looked black.