Something rustled in the brush to her right. Biting back a cry, Mattie veered left. Don’t stop! the little voice inside her head chanted. Don’t look behind you!
The shadow of a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere and lunged at her. She pivoted, trying to scramble away. But she wasn’t fast enough, and a hard body plowed into her with the force of a Sherman tank.
Mattie had expected claws and teeth or maybe an expedient shot to the head. Instead, strong arms clamped around her like a vise and tackled her to the ground. Spitting dirt, she rolled and lashed out with both feet. Satisfaction flicked in her brain when her assailant grunted. The next thing she knew he was on top of her. With her arms bound she could not defend herself.
“Get off me!” she shouted.
She caught a glimpse of dark eyes. She felt the tremendous force of his strength, and her only thought was that these were the last moments of her life.
“If you want to live you’ll be quiet.”
Mattie barely heard the rough whisper over the wild pounding of her heart. She tried to twist away, but he was heavy and strong, pinning her with ease.
“What do you—”
A hand slapped over her mouth, cutting her words short. “Shh.”
Mattie stilled, and for an instant the only sound came from their labored breaths and the tinkle of sleet against dry leaves. Blinking hair from her eyes, she looked up, found herself staring into icy, blue eyes.
“There are four heavily armed men less than two hundred yards away,” he said in a low voice. “Make another sound and they’ll kill us both. Do you understand?”
For an instant the sense of helplessness and terror nearly overwhelmed her. But Mattie could tell by the look in his eyes that if he wanted her dead, he would have already done it.
She jerked her head. Never taking his eyes from hers, he removed his hand from her mouth and put his finger to his lips. His eyes scanned the surrounding darkness. Reaching out, he grasped the base of a long-dead bush and dragged it over them. The bush was large and full and in the semidarkness would cover them completely.
He turned to her and looked into her eyes, his expression tense. He was lying squarely on top of her with some of his weight on his elbows. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His body was rock hard, his muscles taut. At some point during the struggle her legs had opened, and he was lying between her knees, pressed intimately against her. He was no longer breathing hard, but she was.
“The tracks end here!” A heavily accented voice cut through the night like a blade.
“She’s using the stream to hide her tracks.” Another voice. Frighteningly near.
“We should have had her by now. We’re running out of time.”
Mattie listened, praying they wouldn’t be discovered when she saw a pair of boots and the butt of a semiautomatic rifle a few yards to her right. He was standing so close she could smell the stench of his sweat. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow.
“We’re safe,” the man lying on top of her whispered. “Just calm down.”
In the last hours she’d seen too much violence to keep a handle on the fear barreling through her. She could feel her entire body vibrating as a fresh wave of panic engulfed her. She began to hyperventilate. Her face and hands were tingling. If she didn’t get a grip, she was going to give away their hiding place and get them both killed.
Dry grass crunched as one of the killers drew closer. For a terrible instant Mattie thought he’d heard her panicked breathing. She imagined him raising the rifle and shooting them the same way he’d gunned down the three marshals. The urge to jump to her feet and run was strong. She could feel her muscles twitching as the flight instinct kicked in.
“Easy,” the man lying on top of her whispered. “Slow, deep breaths.”
But Mattie was beyond hearing, beyond logic. She tried breathing through her nose, but she could no more slow her breathing than a marathon runner who’d just run ten miles.
Grass and leaves rustled nearby and she knew one of the men was approaching. This is it, she thought. I’ve given away our hiding place and now they’re going to kill us.
The man on top of her shifted, and suddenly she was aware of the way his body fit against hers. Surprising her, he set his hands on either side of her face. His palms were warm and amazingly gentle as he brushed back the hair from her face. Mattie looked into the startling blue of his eyes. And even though the threat of death was so close she could feel the cold scrape of it against her spine, her only thought was that no man had ever looked at her the way this man did.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Saving our lives,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
CUTTER CONSIDERED HIMSELF a master of improvisation. He possessed an uncanny talent for making the best of a bad situation and the ability to adapt to current conditions. They were traits that made him the best of the best. At the moment, kissing this woman seemed like the most expedient way to keep her from getting both of them killed.
He hadn’t expected to get caught up in the softness of her mouth. Sean Cutter didn’t get caught up in anything, especially when it came to his job. But that was exactly what happened when his mouth made contact with hers.
She tried to turn her head, but he caught her cheek with his palm and deepened the kiss. She opened her mouth—to protest no doubt—and he seized the opportunity to take the kiss deeper. Another mistake, he thought dazedly, but by then he’d stopped counting.
Her mouth was warm and wet against his. Her body was curvy and soft and fit perfectly beneath him. He could feel the warmth of her quickened breaths against his cheek. And despite the fact that they were seconds away from being discovered by four men who would not hesitate to execute them, he found his body responding to hers.
He struggled to control the hot rush of blood to his groin, reminding himself of all the terrible things that could happen next. But her mouth was incredibly soft, her body a promise of all the things he’d denied himself for what felt like a lifetime. And while Cutter was a whiz at improvisation, he hadn’t a clue how to stanch good-old-fashioned sexual arousal—no matter how dangerous.
But the kiss was working. Slowly her body relaxed against his, and her breathing slowed. Cutter broke the kiss and for several agonizing minutes neither of them moved while the four killers smoked cigarettes and spoke in a language he was all too familiar with. If the woman could feel his erection against her, she gave no indication. She was probably too terrified to notice. He should be, too, considering they were inches away from getting shot. But Cutter had already faced the worst thing a man could face. He didn’t have a death wish, but not much truly scared him anymore.
After what seemed like an eternity, the men moved on. Cutter lay on top of his prisoner for several more minutes, listening to the men’s retreat. Once he deemed it safe, he tossed the bush aside and rose.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Glaring at him, the woman sat up and with cuffed hands brushed at the leaves and dust on her clothes.
“Saving your life.”
A twig was sticking out of her hair. She was still wearing the slacks and jacket she’d worn to court. Both knees of her slacks were torn. The top button of her blouse had popped off at some point and he could see the lacy outline of her bra. Damn.
“You had no right to…to—”
“You were hyperventilating. If I hadn’t done something, you would have gotten both of us killed.”
Even in the semidarkness, he saw her pale. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who’s going to take you back. For now, that’s all you need to know.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
He jabbed a thumb in the direction of where the four men had disappeared. “Maybe you’d rather take your chances with those cutthroats.”
“I’m innocent.”
Cutter couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Yeah, so am I.” Bending, he graspe
d her bicep to help her up.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said as she got to her feet.
“Here’s a newsflash for you, blondie. You don’t have a say in the matter.”
Of their own accord, his eyes did a quick sweep down the front of her. Even though her suit was rumpled and torn, he could see that she was slender and willowy and built just the way he liked. Her hands were cuffed, accentuating curves he had no right noticing at a time like this.
He removed the master key from his belt. “Give me your wrists.”
She blinked. “You’re uncuffing me?”
“We need to move quickly before those bozos realize they fell for the oldest trick in the book.” He glanced up at the sky. Storm clouds were billowing to the northwest. The weather had been an issue during his briefing in the Lear jet that had taken him from Chicago to a small airport in Kalispell, Montana. A cold front chock-full of nasty precipitation was barreling down from the Canadian border. Cutter figured they had another hour before the skies opened up. Hopefully, enough time to make it to the rendezvous point where the agency had a chopper waiting.
She offered her wrists. “Who were those men?”
“Old friends of yours, no doubt.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But a tremor went through her as he removed the cuffs. A shiver that didn’t have anything to do with the cold and told him she knew exactly what he was talking about. “Save it for your appeal,” he snapped, and shoved the cuffs into a compartment in his belt.
She turned to him, her eyes wide and beseeching. “I don’t know those men. And I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Another laugh squeezed from his throat, only this time it was bitter. “You sold out your country. As far as I’m concerned that puts you on the same level as those animals searching for you.”
As a man who had dedicated most of his adult life to protecting the country he loved, the thought of someone selling out for the likes of money disgusted him beyond words.
The problem was Mattie Logan didn’t look like a traitor. Blue eyed and blond haired, she looked wholesome and kind. But Cutter knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. Mattie Logan might look like the girl next door, but a traitor lay beneath the innocent facade. Remembering the way his body had reacted to her just a few short minutes earlier, he silently reprimanded himself for his weakness and vowed not to let himself be taken in again.
“I didn’t do any of what they accused me of,” she said.
“I don’t care.” And he didn’t. Not one iota. All he cared about at the moment was getting her to the chopper-pick-up location an hour to the south. “Let’s go.”
“Please,” she said. “You have to believe me.”
“I don’t have to do squat.”
“I would never compromise EDNA. That project was the greatest achievement of my career. I safeguarded it with my life.”
Cutter didn’t know the details of her case. All he knew was that she’d been found guilty of treason in a court of law. He trusted the justice system. It was his job to take her back. Black and white, just the way he liked it. Then he could move on to the most challenging phase of his mission: finding The Jaguar and bringing him to justice.
“Someone framed me,” she said. “It’s the only explanation.”
“If you don’t start walking, I’m going to put the cuffs back on and drag you down that trail.”
Rubbing her wrists where bruises had formed, she turned and started walking. “Don’t you care about justice?”
“Justice for whom?” Cutter usually didn’t indulge his prisoners in conversation, but her denials were beginning to annoy him. “The millions of people you endangered by selling EDNA? Did you happen to think about that?”
She started to turn and face him, but Cutter reached out and stopped her by grasping her arm. He wanted to believe he’d kept her moving because he was in a hurry to get to the rendezvous point. But deep inside he acknowledged that he did not want to look into those pretty blue eyes and know what she was. Beauty and evil just did not go together.
“I meant what I said about dragging you,” he warned.
“Please. I can’t go to prison for a crime I didn’t commit. You have to listen to me.”
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that?”
“It’s the truth! I’m innocent!”
“Take it up with the courts, sweetheart. Right now you have a date with a chopper, and come hell or high water I’m going to make sure you don’t miss it.”
Chapter Two
Dawn broke with a monochromatic sky and the tinkle of sleet against the ground. In the distance thunder rumbled menacingly. The hopelessness of her situation pressed down on Mattie like a lead weight as she made her way down the rugged trail. The last thing she wanted to do was get on that chopper and be transported to prison, but she knew if she tried to make a run for it, the man who’d apprehended her would stop her.
Mattie Logan, you are hereby sentenced to life in prison.
The words echoed until she thought she would scream with the injustice of them. But what could she do? Run? Convince this hard-nosed man she was innocent? Neither option seemed realistic.
“This is Delta Ringo One to Eagle. Do you read?”
Her captor’s voice drew her from her reverie. Mattie turned to see him speak into his radio.
“That’s affirm, Delta.” A voice crackled on the other end.
“I’ve got the package.”
“Roger that.”
“What’s your twenty on the rendezvous?”
“Coordinates two five three point one. What’s your ETA?”
The man punched numbers into a small device. “Ten minutes.”
It was the first time she’d had the chance to study him. He was lean and tall with an expression that told her he was serious about what he did. Wearing faded jeans, high-end hiking boots and a flannel shirt over a turtleneck, he didn’t look like any cop she’d ever seen. There was something dangerous about him that had nothing to do with some badge or even the semiautomatic pistol strapped to his hip. Something unpredictable that warned her not to cross him. But Mattie knew if she wanted to clear her name, crossing him was a calculated risk she was going to have to take.
“Be advised we have heavy weather coming in,” the voice barked from the radio.
“Time frame?”
“Front’s here, Delta. Get your butt in gear.”
“Roger that.” Frowning, he shoved the radio and hand-held device into his backpack and shot her with a dark look. “You heard the man, blondie. Let’s pick up the pace.”
For a crazy instant she considered making a run for it. Now that her hands were free, she would be able to run unencumbered. With a storm approaching, maybe her captor would be forced to return to the chopper without her. She envisioned herself barreling down the ravine to her left. If she could reach the stream…
“Don’t even think about it.”
Mattie glanced at him. Fifteen feet separated them. Not much of a head start, but suddenly she knew this moment would probably be her last chance for escape.
“I can’t go back,” she said.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m innocent. I swear on my life. All I need is the chance to prove it.”
“You’re not going to get the chance out here in the middle of nowhere.”
It’s now or never…
Mattie broke into a sprint toward the stream at the base of the ravine. She crashed through the brush, veered left to avoid a stand of sapling pines. She could hear his occasional curse behind her as his heavy boots pounded the ground. She ran as she had never run before, hurdling over fallen logs and rocks the size of basketballs. Her only thought was that if he caught her, her life would be over.
The next thing she knew, his strong arms were wrapped around her from behind. She screamed as he dragged her down. She fell hard
on her stomach, twisted and lashed out with both feet.
He grunted when her heel caught his chin. She saw his head snap back, caught a glimpse of his angry eyes and a slash of blood where her heel had cut him.
“Stop resisting!” he growled.
But Mattie was fighting for her life. She’d been locked up for four months like an animal for an unspeakable crime she hadn’t committed. Her only hope of salvaging her life was escape. She’d decided a long time ago that she would rather die than spend the rest of her life in a cage.
But he was incredibly strong. An animal sound tore from her throat as he pinned her to the ground. He was sitting on her abdomen, his hands manacling her wrists above her head.
“Pull yourself together,” he snapped.
“I’m not going with you,” Mattie panted.
“You don’t have a say in the matter.”
Helplessness and impotent rage burned through her. To her horror, tears welled. Humiliated, Mattie tried to turn away, but he held her flat.
“You’ve left me no choice but to cuff you,” he said.
Mattie hated the cuffs; they made her feel like a criminal. He snapped the nylon restraints into place—in front—which made them marginally more comfortable.
He rose and helped her to her feet. “If you have a beef with the verdict, you’ve got to handle it through the courts. Not out here. There’s a dangerous storm on the way and four killers who will stop at nothing to get whatever secrets you have locked inside your head. Do you understand?”
“What I understand,” she said in a trembling voice, “is that neither justice nor my life means anything to you.”
He studied her as if she were a puzzle missing a vital piece, then he motioned toward the trail. “When we get to the chopper I’ll clean up that cut on your temple.”