Rachael settled onto the swing beside the cowboy.
Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs. “It’s chilly.”
“Nights are cool this time of year.” But Bo’s mind wasn’t on the temperature, and he wasn’t the slightest bit cool. In fact, he’d broken a sweat beneath his denim jacket.
Rachael dropped her gaze to her hands. “You probably know this already, but I’m not very good at following other people’s rules. I just tend to be independent.”
Independent was an understatement, but Bo didn’t say as much. He didn’t want to get into the reasons for her recklessness. He didn’t like the way he was reacting to her. He didn’t want to have to talk to her any longer than necessary. Not because sitting on the porch with her was unpleasant, but because she was making him feel things he didn’t want to feel—and tempting him to do things he knew he would regret….
Operation: Midnight Cowboy
Linda Castillo
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Castillo knew at a very young age that she wanted to be a writer—and penned her first novel at the age of thirteen. She is the winner of numerous writing awards, including the Holt Medallion, the Golden Heart and the Daphne du Maurier Award, and she has been nominated for the prestigious RITA® Award.
Linda loves writing edgy romantic suspense novels that push the envelope and take her readers on a roller-coaster ride of breathtaking romance and thrilling suspense. She resides in Texas with her husband, four lovable dogs and an Appaloosa named George. For a complete list of her books, check out her Web site at www.lindacastillo.com, contact her at [email protected] or write her at P.O. Box 577, Bushland, Texas 79012.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Rachael Armitage—A MIDNIGHT agent on the edge. Two years ago, she shot and killed the son of international crime lord Viktor Karas. Now Karas wants revenge. Can Rachael survive the wrath of one of the most brutal criminals in the world?
Bo Ruskin—After killing a fellow MIDNIGHT agent, he quit the agency and fled to his remote Montana ranch. But the agency needs a favor. Can Bo keep Rachael Armitage safe when he can’t even pick up his gun?
Viktor Karas—The most brutal crime lord in the world. Will he succeed in killing the woman responsible for his son’s death?
Sean Cutter—He needs a favor from former MIDNIGHT agent Bo Ruskin. Can Cutter count on him to keep Rachael Armitage safe?
Michael Armitage—He was killed in the line of duty six months earlier. But what secrets did Michael take with him to the grave?
Ivan Petrov—The professional killer hired by Viktor Karas. Will he succeed in eliminating his target? Or die trying?
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Prologue
They were going to kill her this time.
The first shot blew a hole the size of her thumb through the driver’s side window. Rachael Armitage cut the steering wheel hard to the right. The Mustang slid sideways on the rain-slicked road, but she steered into the skid. The instant the tires gripped, she hit the gas.
There was at least one vehicle behind her. Maybe two. The men inside were probably armed to the hilt. The driver was good; he knew when to get close and when to back off. But she was better. She only hoped she had the horsepower to prove it.
Never taking her eyes from the rearview mirror, she negotiated a sharp curve. The car fishtailed, but she held it steady and maintained control. The headlights behind her disappeared. When the road straightened, Rachael floored the accelerator. But she knew they weren’t going to give up.
Grabbing her purse, she emptied it onto the seat next to her. For an instant she debated whether to reach for the cell phone or the Beretta .380, but she reached for the phone.
Headlights flashed in her rearview mirror as she flipped open the cell. Cursing, she hit the speed dial with her thumb. The vehicle was gaining on her with astounding speed. Coming too fast. Getting too close. One ring. Two.
“Come on,” she snapped.
The vehicle bumped her from behind just as a voice answered. “ID and code, please.”
“This is Alpha two-four-six. Code red.” Rachael glanced to her left to see a big chrome bumper inches from her window. “Damn.”
“What’s your twenty, Alpha?”
Knowing the vehicle was going to ram her, Rachael stomped the brake. But she wasn’t fast enough. The big SUV swerved, its front quarter panel slamming into the Mustang hard enough to knock the phone from her hand. The car veered sideways. The tires screamed as they lost purchase.
She skillfully steered into the skid, but her heart was hammering by the time she regained control. Adrenaline burned hot in her gut. Too damn close, she thought. These guys were good. Professional killers more than likely. They had heavier, faster vehicles. Bigger guns. But then she didn’t expect any less from the man whose only mission in life was to see her dead.
She should have heeded Cutter’s advice and taken the Lear. But then Rachael had never been good at taking advice.
Ahead, she could see the yellow glow of Chicago’s north suburbs above the tree line. She wasn’t familiar with this particular road. Didn’t know where to find refuge. Where the hell was a cop when you needed one?
The second shot shattered the windshield. The safety glass held, but shards pelted her like sleet. Large-caliber projectile. High velocity. If they shot through the engine she would be dead in the water.
Wind roared through the hole in the windshield. Cold night air surrounded her with icy fingers. But it wasn’t the cold that had her hands shaking on the wheel. A glance at the speedometer told her she was nearing one hundred miles per hour. A dangerous speed even in the best conditions. Downright reckless on wet pavement on a curvy back road in the dead of night.
But then Rachael had always been good at reckless.
Every nerve in her body jumped when two sets of headlights loomed behind her. She pressed the accelerator to the floor, but the Mustang’s V-8 engine had already given its all. The second vehicle came up beside her. A large SUV.
The fender slammed into the driver’s side door. Steel screeched and groaned as the vehicles locked. Rachael hit the brake, but it was too late. The Mustang careened into the guardrail. Sparks shot high into the air as steel ground against steel. She tried desperately to ease the car back on the road, but the SUV was too heavy. She was going too fast.
In