Operation: Midnight Rendezvous
Linda Castillo
Prologue
Jessica Atwood ran blindly through the darkness. Around her, rain poured down in icy sheets. Trees and brush slashed at her face and clothes; mud sucked at her shoes like quicksand. She plowed through the branches and fought her way through the heavy brush, her labored breaths rushing between clenched teeth. Her lungs burned as if they were on fire, but she didn’t stop.
She would die before she let them hurt the boy.
Gripping his hand tighter, she ran. Behind her she could hear them shouting. Razor blades of light cut through the night as the powerful beams of their flashlights sought her. In the distance she could hear the dogs baying. Gaining ground. Death knocking on her door.
“Come on, baby,” she panted. “Run for me. Run!”
When Nicolas didn’t respond, she squeezed his hand. Vaguely she was aware of him crying. She wanted to hold him, tell him everything was going to be all right. But there wasn’t time. They were running for their lives.
Terror was like a wild beast turned loose inside her. She knew their pursuers would kill them both if they caught them. She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let them kill an innocent child. Somehow she had to save them.
Or die trying.
The first gunshot exploded like a bomb. A scream tore from her throat when a branch fractured less than a foot from her head. Shoving Nicolas ahead to keep him out of the line of fire, she darted left and took him down a ravine at a reckless speed.
“Run!” she panted. “Please, baby. Faster!”
They hit the foot of the gully in an all-out sprint. She glanced back to see one of their pursuers at the top of the ravine, silhouetted against the night sky. Terror ratcheted into something wild and unwieldy when she saw him raise his rifle for a shot.
Oh, dear God, no! she thought, and picked up speed. An instant later something struck her left arm with what seemed to be the force of a missile traveling at the speed of light. The impact spun her around, and the violent shock of pain sent her to her knees. A second later the report shattered the night.
“Mah-mah. Mah-mah!”
She glanced at Nicolas, at the tears and mud that streaked his face. He needed her. She had to be strong. She had to get them through this. Angela would have wanted that for her son.
“I’m okay, honey,” she said.
“Mah-mah.” He reached for her, his face crumpling. “Mah-mah!”
“It’s going to be all right.” Cradling her injured arm, she staggered to her feet. Pain clutched her like a giant, bony hand, and dizziness descended, but she shook it off and grabbed Nicolas’s hand.
“Come on,” she whispered.
Animal sounds tore from her throat as she stumbled over rocks and tree roots and loose dirt. She lost her footing twice, but somehow managed to stay upright. At a dangerous speed they descended into a second ravine. Midway down, Jess’s foot caught on something and she fell, screaming when Nicolas’s hand was torn from hers. She went into a wild tumble, rocks and tree roots battering her body, but all she could think about was Nicolas, alone and in danger.
The earth disappeared beneath her then, catapulting her into a free fall. Jess knew that when she landed the impact would surely kill her. Instead, her body slammed into water. The sudden sharp cold shocked her system and she went under. As the strong current pulled her downstream, debris hit her and the churning water tumbled her. Stifling a scream, she sucked in a mouthful of water and began to choke. Panic gripped her. Fighting it, she kicked her legs hard and fast and an instant later her face broke the surface.
“Nicolas!” she screamed.
She struggled against the powerful current, but the force of the water swept her along the jagged bank dotted with rocks and tree roots. She tried to look around, but all she saw was darkness and rain and black, swirling water.
“Nicolas!”
But when she reached for his hand all she felt was the cold grip of the river. All she heard was the whisper of death in her ear.
Chapter One
Mike Madrid knew something big was going down the instant the call came in on his secure line at four o’clock in the morning. The call itself wasn’t unusual, considering he worked for a top secret agency. He knew it was bad when Sean Cutter refused to give him details over the phone.
“I want you at MIDNIGHT headquarters by oh five hundred,” Cutter said.
Madrid made the drive from his apartment in an upscale Washington, D.C., neighborhood to the top secret MIDNIGHT Agency headquarters in record time. He’d expected Cutter to have already assembled the team for whatever assignment had warranted the call out, but he found only one man in the room. When Sean Cutter looked up from where he sat, Madrid suddenly knew this wasn’t about an assignment or a mission. It was personal.
“What happened?” he asked without preamble.