"It was in Angela's bag of tricks."

"Pretty high-tech."

"And then some."

The sound of footsteps punctuated the statement. Madrid looked over his shoulder, his expression turning grave. "We're going to have to split up."

"No."

Grasping her arms, he gave her a gentle shake, his gaze seeking hers. "Listen to me, Jess. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

The last thing Jess wanted to do was split up, but her instincts told her to trust Madrid. Maybe because she knew he was the kind of man who would sacrifice himself to keep her safe. At the moment she didn't know if that was good or bad.

Grabbing his pistol from the floor, he chambered a bullet and handed it to her. "It's ready to go. Use it if you need to. Don't trust anyone but me."

Without giving her time to debate, he spun her around, shoved her in the direction from which they'd come. "Run. Get back on deck, then get off the ship any way you can."

Jess risked a look back at him. He'd started in the direction of the footsteps. "You can't walk right into the lion's den," she said.

He grinned. "The lion's den is my specialty," he replied, and disappeared down the darkened hall.

THE CORRIDORS CREAKED like the underbelly of some ancient, arthritic beast. Jess's sneakers pounded against the steel floor as she ran down the corridor. At some point flashing red lights had come on as if to signal some kind of emergency-or, in this case, a security breach.

She ran as she had never run before. Terror followed her every step of the way. She could hear her breaths echoing off the walls. She pa.s.sed several hatches, but couldn't remember which one she and Madrid had entered. She was afraid to stop. Afraid the men with guns would find her and kill her...or worse.

Run. Get back on deck, then get off the ship any way you can.

Madrid's words reverberated inside her head. If only she could remember how to reach the deck.

Another corridor veered right. Jess stopped, vacillated. She tried hard to remember if they'd come that way, but couldn't. She wasn't familiar with the ship's layout. In the flashing lights, everything looked the same. In the back of her mind she wondered how Madrid was faring.

Behind her, the sound of leather soles against steel sent her heart into her throat. Down the hall. Too close for comfort. Jess took the corridor, threw herself into an all-out sprint. All the while she could hear the footsteps getting closer, the men gaining on her.

She pa.s.sed another corridor, ducked into it without forethought and found herself in a stairwell landing. Steel grid steps led down and up. She went up, taking the steps two at a time. Somewhere behind her a hatch slammed and shouting echoed all around her.

She pa.s.sed another landing, the door to which was marked Minus One. She used the steel rail to fling herself around the corner. Her legs burned as she took the next flight up, but she didn't stop. The next door was marked Zero. Jess attacked the wheel lock, spun it as fast as she could. Steel creaked when she shoved it open.

Relief poured through her when cold and rain met her face. All she could think was that she'd made it out of h.e.l.l. Her relief was short-lived, though, as the beam of a spotlight flashed by. Thrusting herself through the door, Jess looked around and tried to get her bearings. Several spotlights had come on since she and Madrid had gone below deck. Silhouetted against the night sky, she saw the deckhouse and realized she'd somehow run the length of the ship. If she remembered correctly, they had entered near the deckhouse.

To her right, a cable rail denoted the edge of the ship. To her left was a small, lighted structure, one side of which was lined with fifty-gallon drums. Several wooden pallets were stacked neatly along the other side. Planning to use the drums and pallets as cover, Jess left the hatch. Her heart pounded as she crossed an open area. If the spotlight landed on her here, she would be in plain sight.

She barely noticed the rain soaking her as she neared the pallets. She was a few feet away when sudden bright light blinded her. An authoritative male voice penetrated the fog of terror.

"Halt! Put your hands up! Now!"

Instinct kicked in. Jess spun and bolted. She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was if they caught her, they would kill her.

"Stop or I'll shoot!"

The words were punctuated by the thunk, thunk, thunk of gunfire. A pallet less than a foot away from her exploded. Disbelief and terror tore through her.

She crossed the deck at a reckless speed. Rain and wind blinded her, but she didn't slow down. She could hear the men behind her, their angry shouts rising above the din of rain.

She reached the rail. To her left she saw men racing toward her, flashlight beams bobbing. To her right was another small building, with a closed hatch. Was it locked?

"Put your hands up now!"

Get off the ship any way you can.

Madrid's words came to her like a beacon out of the darkness. Jess knew what she had to do.

Her legs shook violently as she hauled herself over the rail. More shouting sounded behind her, but she barely heard it over her wildly pounding heart.

She looked into the black abyss of the bay below. It was so dark she couldn't even tell how far the fall would be. All she could do now was pray it didn't kill her.

"Stop!"

Closing her eyes, Jess said a silent prayer and flung herself into the darkness.

Chapter Twelve.

The water slapped her like a giant icy hand, then swallowed her whole. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs; the cold stole what little she had left.

It was like being sucked into a bottomless, icy abyss. Every sense in her body screamed with shock. She didn't know how deep she'd gone. Didn't know what horrors lay above-or below. The only thing she knew for certain at the moment was that she wanted to live.

Jess kicked with all her might, but her clothes and shoes felt like lead weights. She didn't know if she was making any progress, but the alternative to drowning was too horrendous to contemplate.

She broke the surface a moment later, choking and coughing. Rain and wind buffeted her. A wave swamped her and she swallowed a mouthful of the sea. She tasted salt.w.a.ter and panic and the hard edge of her own fear. In the back of her mind she wondered if Madrid had gotten off the ship. If he had survived. If she would ever see him again. The thought of him gave her the strength she needed.

Treading water, she looked around and tried to get her bearings. Above her the ship rose out of the water like a steel iceberg. A single spotlight shone down, but it was a good fifty feet away from where she'd fallen. They were looking for her. That meant she didn't have much time.

Turning, she spotted the concrete pier twenty yards away. Jutting ten feet out of the water, it would be a tough climb. But Jess thought there would probably be places she could get a grip or maybe a dangling rope she could grab.

The swim to the pier seemed to take forever. The cold was quickly zapping her strength. Once the searchlight from the ship came within ten feet of her and she had to duck beneath the surface. She knew sharks were the least of her worries, taking into consideration the men with semiautomatic weapons, but the entire time she couldn't stop thinking about all the unsavory creatures lurking in the deep.

By the time her hands made contact with the concrete, she wasn't sure she had the strength to pull herself out of the water. For several seconds she clung to the pier, shaking with cold and exhaustion, gasping for breath. Her teeth chattered as she looked around.

There were still lights visible aboard the Dorian Rae, but the spotlights had been doused. Did that mean they'd stopped looking for her? Where was Madrid?

Knowing the water was stealing her body heat and strength at an alarming rate, Jess maneuvered along the barnacle-covered pier until she came to a rope hanging down from an old b.u.mper float. Now, if she could find the strength to pull herself up and out of the water.

A scream tore from her throat when something large brushed against her. Shark was the only thought her mind processed. She lunged at the rope, but before she could reach it a hand slapped over her mouth.

"Easy, Jess, it's me."

Several terror-filled seconds pa.s.sed before the words registered. Before the familiar voice soothed the jagged ends of her nerves. When he removed his hand from her mouth, Jess choked out a sound of pure relief. "Madrid..."

"Are you hurt?"

"N-no. J-just c-cold."

He looked around. "I'm going to get you out of here."

She reached for the rope. "We can climb out."

He eased her back into the icy water. The urge to fight him was strong; more than anything, she wanted out of the water. But his words stopped her. "We're less than ten yards from the port police. You climb out here and you'll get a bullet for your trouble."

That convinced her.

"Hold on to me," he said quietly.

She glanced over at him to find his eyes already on hers. Without hesitating, she hooked a finger around his belt loop.

"Like this," he said, taking both her hands in his and wrapping them around his waist. He motioned to his right. "I'm taking you over to that old boat ramp."

She hadn't noticed the ramp until she followed his gesture. The concrete was crumbling and fraught with weeds as high as a man's waist. But it was the easiest way out of the water. The weeds would provide some cover.

He shoved away from the pier, and she felt the muscles beneath her palms tighten as he began to swim. Jess kicked her feet in an effort to help, but her legs felt as if they were weighted down. Her feet were numb. The icy water felt like razors against her skin. At some point she had stopped shaking. It was as if she had floated out of her body and was looking down, watching two strangers struggle through the cold, black water.

It took only a few minutes for him to reach the boat ramp, but it felt like hours. He stepped onto the concrete. "Easy."

Jess hadn't realized she was still clinging to him. But when she let go, she sank back into the water. Exhaustion tugged at her and the darkness beckoned, offered a place that was warm and safe.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

Madrid's voice reached her as if from a great distance. "Whas wrong?" Surprise rippled through her when her words slurred.

"Cold got you. You're hypothermic."

"I'm 'kay." But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her legs under her.

Strong arms wrapped around her. The next thing she knew she was being swept into his arms. She wanted to ask him what he was doing and where he was taking her, but her mouth had suddenly forgotten how to speak. Her mind felt fuzzy and confused; she couldn't seem to pull her thoughts together.

Vaguely she was aware of him carrying her across the weed-riddled asphalt. She worried about the men from the ship spotting them as he shoved her into the car. But she figured neither of them was in any shape to do anything about it. She heard the engine start and saw Madrid looking into the rearview mirror.

And then like the water that had nearly stolen her life, she slipped into the darkness and floated away.

MADRID TOOK HER to the only place he could think of. As an agent, he had several refuges. Secret places n.o.body knew about except him. The RV wasn't his favorite, but it was secluded, mobile and safe. For now it would have to do.

He was all too aware how dangerous hypothermia was. He'd lost a fellow agent to it while on a.s.signment some five years ago. Cold and water were silent killers that could steal a life like thieves in the night. There was no way he was going to let it take Jess.

She seemed weightless as he carried her to the RV and took her up the steps. Unlocking the door, he shoved it open. The place smelled stale, but it was dry and warm. For now that would have to be enough.

He set her on the small settee. She spilled from his arms in a wet heap. "Hang on, babe," he whispered. "I'll be right back."

Quickly he went outside to the generator at the rear of the RV. It started on the first try. Madrid kept all his equipment in working order. In his line of business, he never knew when he would need it, and he was intimately acquainted with Murphy's Law.

Back inside the RV, he switched on the lights and felt alarm shoot through him when he saw the pale cast to Jess's complexion. She had no color whatsoever, except for her lips, which were tinged blue. "d.a.m.n."

Not giving himself time to debate, he began to work the wet clothing from her body. His hands shook as he tugged the soggy sweatshirt over her head. She thrashed and tried to push him away, but Madrid gently set her back down. "Easy," he said. "I need to get you dry and warm."

"G'way."

"Not a chance."

But his hands hesitated. Jess was stripped down to her jeans and bra. As vulnerable as a woman could be. This was no time for him to notice the silky white flesh of her abdomen or that her limbs were long and lean, just the way he liked. They were in the midst of a life-threatening emergency. But as he reached for the snap of her jeans, he noticed all of those things and more.

She shoved at him as he worked her zipper down. "Don't."

"I've got to get you warm," he said, brushing her hands away.

Wide hips and a flat belly came into view. He gritted his teeth against the hard tug of attraction that coiled low in his gut. The hot rise of l.u.s.t made him feel like a lecher. But while Madrid had always considered himself a professional, he'd never denied he was a man with weaknesses.

"Don't go there, partner," he muttered.

But he already had. He'd stripped her down to her bra and panties and for the span of a full minute he could do nothing but stand there and drink in her beauty.

Shaken by his reaction to her, he gave himself a hard mental shake. She needed warmth and rest, not some burned-out federal agent ogling her while she was only semiconscious.

"That's bottom-of-the-barrel low, Madrid," he growled, and started for the overhead locker off the tiny head. He pulled two blankets and a pillow from the shelf and went back to the settee. She stirred when he slid the pillow beneath her cheek, but she didn't open her eyes. Probably a good thing, since he'd end up getting lost in them.

Only when he'd finished covering her with both blankets did he realize his own condition wasn't much better. He'd been running on autopilot since leaving the shipyard, but the cold had sapped his strength. He felt as if he were moving through a fog. If some goon with a gun came calling, he wasn't in any shape to do much about it.

Leaving Jess on the settee, Madrid stripped, let his clothes drop to the floor and stepped into the shower. The water wasn't yet hot, but it was warm enough to get his body temperature back to normal. For now that was the best he could hope for.

He raised his face to the spray and felt his muscles begin to melt. He knew he should be thinking about solving the mystery surrounding Angela's death. About how he was going to handle the end of his career.

But he couldn't get Jess out of his mind. He couldn't get the picture of her out of his head. The image of his hands roaming milky flesh. The sounds of her sighs when he touched her. The way it might feel running his fingers through her silky hair...

He had it bad for her. As far as the MIDNIGHT Agency was concerned, she was a fugitive from justice. He wondered if Sean Cutter had figured it out yet. If his relationship with Jess would expedite his fall from grace.

"First you gotta make it through the night," he muttered, and turned his face toward the spray.

EVERYTHING HE'D EVER WORKED for was falling apart. A business endeavor he'd been working on for nearly a decade. A business that had afforded him a lifestyle he otherwise would never even have dreamed of.

All because of some two-bit federal agent and Jess Atwood. A freaking waitress, of all things.

They had been on board the Dorian Rae. In custody, in fact. But his men had screwed up, and now they were free. He could only a.s.sume they knew everything. That they were dangerously close to blowing sky-high everything he'd worked for.

A knock at the door drew his attention. "It's open," he snapped.