“I’m sorry for the things I said,” she began. “I crossed a line. I had no right.”
He set his saddlebags on the table. “We’re on the same side, Rachael.”
“I know. But I want Karas.”
“We all want Karas.”
“To different degrees.”
“You’re going to have to accept that we have different methods of achieving our goal and respect my decision on how to handle this situation.”
“Bo, I can’t stand the thought of Cutter being tortured to death because he’s the only person who knows where I am.”
“Cutter may not talk.”
But they both knew Karas would not stop until he did.
For several minutes she watched him unpack. He’d come prepared. He’d brought a small camping heater. Several military-type boxed meals called MREs or Meals-Ready-to-Eat. A couple of blankets. The first-aid field kit. Water in a collapsible container.
“So what do we do now?” she asked.
He glanced out the window at the growing dark ness beyond. “We pack it in for the night. Wait for someone from MIDNIGHT to contact us.”
She hadn’t wanted to hear that, but there was nothing she could say or do that would change the situation. “I’m sure it will come as a surprise to you if I tell you I’ve never been good at waiting.”
His mouth twitched. “I’m shocked.”
She turned away before he could see her smile.
But the moment of humor was short-lived. Rachael’s heart slammed against her ribs when the whop! whop! whop! of a chopper’s rotors cut through the silence.
She spun, her gaze snapping to Bo’s. “The agency?” She was already starting toward the door to have a look.
Bo reached out and stopped her by grasping her arm. “It’s not the agency,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“MIDNIGHT uses Bell Helicopter products. The aircraft approaching isn’t a Bell.”
“How can you tell?”
“Different engines sound different.” He put his finger to his lips to quiet her.
Outside, the chopper drew closer. It was flying low and approaching rapidly. A chill passed through Rachael when she remembered the way Bo’s ranch house had exploded. Even though this house was built into the side of a hill, part of it was vulnerable.
Shaking off his grip, she started for the table, grabbed both her guns. She shoved the mini Magnum into her waistband and pulled back the slide on the Beretta, chambering a bullet. “I’m not going to stand here and become a s’more.”
“They can’t see us,” Bo said.
She stopped midway to the door. “Can’t infrared pick up our body heat?”
“We’re beneath several tons of earth. The house is beneath the canopies of the cottonwood trees. They can’t see heat through that.” He motioned toward the door where full darkness was descending quickly. “You run out there and start shooting like some kind of hotheaded rookie and you’ll do nothing but give away our location and give them a moving target.”
“What about the shed row where the horses are?”
“Out of sight.” His eyes met hers. “That’s why we’re here, Rachael. This place is hidden from the air.”
It was then that she realized he’d kept this old place standing for just this purpose. Always have a plan B….
They listened to the chopper approach. Bo was standing so close, Rachael could smell his out-of-doors scent. He was still wearing his hat and his eyes were shadowed. But she knew he was watching her. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin.
Overhead, the chopper blasted past, but neither of them moved. She wanted to believe the pound of her heart was due to the danger that loomed so close. But she was honest enough with herself to admit her racing pulse had more to do with the man than the situation.
She listened to the sound of the engines fade into the night. Slowly, her surroundings came back into focus. The incessant chorus of crickets and frogs. The chill of the night pressing against her skin. The relief that came with danger narrowly averted.
But for the first time since she’d arrived at the Dripping Springs Ranch, Rachael realized she now faced another kind of danger. A danger that had nothing to do with Viktor Karas—and everything to do with the man who’d been hired to protect her.
Chapter Nine
“Close call,” she whispered.
For a crazy instant Bo wasn’t sure if she was referring to the chopper that had flown so low overhead or the strange moment that had just transpired between them.
He wanted to think the hard thrust of his heart was due to the ebb and flow of adrenaline in his blood, but he knew it had more to do with the close proximity of this woman.
Hands off, partner, a little voice warned.
Bo knew he should listen to that tiny voice of reason. He was far too levelheaded to act on some reckless impulse. But God knew he wanted to.
It had been two years since he’d been with a woman, since he’d holed up at the Dripping Springs Ranch and sealed himself off from the rest of the world. He spent more time with horses than he did with people. With the guilt churning in his gut, he had no use for friendships or relationships. He sure as hell didn’t have a use for a woman.
But churning in his gut right alongside the guilt was something else that was every bit as powerful. A need so strong, all he could do was stand there, staring at her, and hope she didn’t notice the fact that he was aroused.
The sound of the chopper’s rotors had long since faded into the distance. Still, neither of them moved. Bo knew if he did move, it would be toward her. A mistake that would cost him what little peace of mind he had.
But he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. He couldn’t stanch the need to pull her into his arms and get a taste of it.
If it hadn’t been for his conscience reminding him who she was and what he’d done, he might’ve acted on the hot impulses streaking through him. But if Bo Ruskin was anything, he was cautious. He couldn’t let himself put his hands on his best friend’s wife…even if that friend had betrayed him.
Giving himself a hard mental shake, he stepped back. “I’m going to light the stove.”
His hands were shaking when he reached for the canister and popped off the top. He used to have the steadiest hands of anyone he knew. He could set up a shot from two hundred yards away and hit his mark. But Rachael Armitage turned that steadiness into a bundle of raw nerves.
Shoving thoughts of her aside, he set the small camping stove on the table and lit the wick. Yellow light filled the kitchen. He could hear Rachael behind him, but he didn’t turn around. For the first time in his life, Bo didn’t trust himself. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he looked into her eyes. But he found himself wondering how she would react if he pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to hers….
“It’s getting cold.”
He actually started when she came up beside him. Feeling like a fool, he glared at her. “I brought a couple of blankets.” He motioned to his saddlebag. “Help yourself.”
She crossed to the table and pulled two blankets from the leather bag. “If Karas’s men make another pass in the chopper, won’t they see the light in the windows?”
If it were anyone but Viktor Karas looking for them, Bo would have pointed out that it would be counterproductive to fly a search mission at night. But he knew it was exactly the kind of thing Karas would do.
“Maybe.” There were two windows and a door in the kitchen. Not a good place to keep the heater.
But in the adjoining living area there was only one large window. Picking up one of the blankets, Bo carried it to the living-room window and hung it on the rusty nails sticking out of the wood.
“You need that blanket for warmth, Bo.”
“I’m not cold.” It was a silly thing to say; of course, he was cold—or at least he would be by the end of the night. The temperature in the high country dropped to near freezing at night this time of year. Already, he could
see his breath when he spoke.
Ignoring her as best he could, he went back to the kitchen, picked up the camping heater and carried it to the larger room. He set it on the floor in the center of the room, then sat down beside it.
After a moment, Rachael sat down across from him. She had the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Yellow light flickered on her features. She was staring at the small ring of flame. All Bo could think was that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life.
“You’re shivering.”
Her voice pulled him from his reverie. He hadn’t noticed. “I guess I am.”
Sighing, she scooted on her rear until she was next to him and lifted the blanket. “Put this over your shoulder. It’ll help.”
When Bo didn’t budge, she scooted closer and draped the blanket over him. Then they were shoulder to shoulder; he could feel the warmth of her shoulder against his side. Her thigh brushed his, the sensation was warm and soft and forbidden. He closed his eyes against a quick rise of pleasure.
Logic and a healthy dose of self-preservation told him to keep his distance. All he had to do was go to the shed row where the horses were tied and bring in their saddle blankets. They wouldn’t smell nearly as good as Rachael, but at least he wouldn’t have to endure touching her.
Being this close to her—close enough to smell the wildflower scent of her hair—was enough to drive a man crazy. He wanted to blame it on two years of celibacy. But he knew it was more than that. Just as he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to do something stupid. Like turn to her and take her mouth in a kiss….
Heat flared in his groin when she shifted and her thigh brushed against his hip. He felt every touch like the prod of a branding iron.
“I think the heater is taking the chill out of the room.”
Bo swallowed. His throat was so tight the sound seemed to echo in the room. If he hadn’t been so distracted, so off-kilter by the onslaught of sensations this woman induced, he might have laughed. Big, bad Bo Ruskin had finally met his match. But it hadn’t come in the form of some gun-toting goon, but a woman half his size with pretty green eyes and a mouth he’d give his right hand for one taste…
“How long do you think it will be before the agency can send someone to pick us up?”
“I don’t know.”
She fell silent for a moment. Despite his distracted frame of mind, Bo could practically feel her brain working, churning out questions. “Any idea where Karas’s goons have set up base? They need a place to set down that chopper.”
“A lot of open country out here that’s pretty desolate. A man could set down a chopper on the open range and not get noticed for days.”
“So they could be anywhere.” She turned slightly and looked at him.
Bo knew better than to meet her gaze. But he did anyway. In the yellow light from the heater, her eyes were level and dark. His gaze flicked to her mouth. Her lips looked soft and wet. Her face was only a few inches from his. All he had to do was lean forward….
Realizing he was one moment of bad judgment away from doing something he would regret the rest of his life, Bo pulled away. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest when he scrambled to his feet.
Without speaking, he started toward the door.
“Bo?”
He knew better than to go outside. If the chopper happened by at that moment, the infrared would zoom in on the heat of his body and reveal their location. But he had to get out of there. Besides, it was quiet in the high country at night. Bo assured himself he would hear the engine and rotors coming from miles away.
The one thing he wasn’t sure about was how he was going to get through the night trapped in a house with a woman he was attracted to beyond all logic.
A woman he could never have.
STARING INTO the heater’s flame, Rachael huddled in the blanket and tried not to think of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Twenty minutes had passed since Bo walked out. She tried to convince herself he was only checking on the horses.
But she knew better.
He was avoiding her.
That was probably a good thing since there was so much electricity zinging between them. A fact that disturbed her nearly as much as the knowledge that Viktor Karas wanted her dead.
In the few scant minutes they’d been huddled together beneath the blanket, something powerful had been at work between them. Attraction. Affection. All the things she’d swore she’d never feel again after Michael. The feelings Bo elicited made her feel guilty. As if she were somehow betraying Michael. After all, Bo had been his best friend.
She was so much better at feeling nothing at all. Things were simpler that way. Easier.
Safer, a traitorous little voice added.
“Armitage, you are such an idiot,” she muttered.
“Who are you talking to?”
She jumped at the sound of Bo’s voice. Turning, she saw him silhouetted in the doorway of the kitchen. Wide shoulders. Narrow hips. Cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said.
He pushed away from the jamb and approached her. “They always say talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity.”
“If that’s the case, I’ve been crazy for a long time.”
He chuckled. “Me, too.”
Rachael couldn’t help it. She laughed. The tension between them lifted marginally. But she sensed Bo wanted to talk—a first since he was a man of few words. More than likely to tell her he was no more interested in some one-night tryst than she was. Thank goodness. After all, they were adults. Professional agents, for God’s sake. They could handle whatever it was that was happening between them.
“Do you mind if I sit?”
She looked up at him as he approached. “I was hoping you would,” she said.
He took his place on the opposite side of the small stove. Rachael noticed he’d brought in both of the wool horse blankets. Setting one on the ground, he draped the other over his shoulders and sat.
“Any sign of trouble outside?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Hopefully, Karas will call off his dogs until daylight.”
She figured they both knew that was a best-case scenario. Viktor Karas wasn’t known for giving up easily.
But the statement made her think of Cutter. Last they’d heard he’d been missing….
“I know using the cell phone isn’t the smartest thing to do right now, but I’d like to call in and see what the status is on Cutter,” she said.
The odds of Karas tracking a call were slim, but not impossible. All he’d have to do was have someone waiting at the phone company. From there they could do a triangulation trace and locate the cell tower.
“I’ll make it quick.” Bo tugged out his cell phone, then looked at her. “You want to listen?”
Getting any closer to him was a dangerous business; there were too many crazy impulses racing through her. But they were talking about the fate of a personal friend. A man they both cared for and respected.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Scoot over here.”
Rachael slid over until she was beside him. Bo hit two buttons, then put the phone to his ear and leaned toward her, close enough so she could hear.
The phone rang. She waited and listened, hoping against hope they would receive good news about Sean Cutter. The line clicked and the relay desk answered with a curt, “Headquarters.”
“This is Alpha two-four-six,” Rachael said.
A pause ensued while her ID code was verified.
“One moment,” came the voice. Another click sounded while the call was transferred.
“This is Zero three-four-two.”
Rachael sighed with relief at the sound of Mike Madrid’s code number. Bo cut right to the point. “How’s nine-nine-nine?” The code for Sean Cutter.
“No word. He’s not in the rubble, though. At this point we can only assume he?
??s been kidnapped.”
Rachael heard each word like punch. She and Cutter hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye on things—in fact, they’d disagreed on matters more often than not—but he was a good man and one of the best agents MIDNIGHT had. He was larger than life. The kind of man you turned to when you thought all was lost. To think of him at the mercy of a man like Viktor Karas sickened her.
“You got men on it?”
“All we can spare.”
“What about other casualties?” Bo asked.
“Six-five-eight has a broken arm and some burns. I’ve got some minor lacerations. Compared to Cutter…” Madrid let his voice trail.
Six-five-eight was Jake Vanderpol. Rachael uttered a silent thanks that his injuries weren’t life threatening. That none of her counterparts had been badly injured.
“What’s the stat at headquarters?” Bo asked.
“You want the bad news or the bad news?”
Bo exhaled a curse. “Lay it on me.”
“We lost our computers, Bo. From what I understand there’s a backup system, a computer hub off site where all data was dumped when we got hit. Everything we have, including surveillance, has been turned over to CIA. We can’t guarantee security until we can get our sweepers working.”
Sweepers was the term used for debugging communication systems, such as phones and computers.
Silence reigned as the information sank in. For the first time, Rachael felt alone—and vulnerable.
“What about Karas?”
“Last I heard we had a visual in Moscow. I haven’t been able to check since we got hit.”
“Why the hell is he just sitting there?” Bo asked.
“I don’t know. But his presence was verified by a visual.”
“We need a pickup,” Bo said.
Madrid paused. “We’re not secure, partner. Nine-nine-nine knows your twenty and he’s not going to be talking for a while. Any way you can hang tight for a while?”