Читать книгу Cody Walker's Woman - Amelia Autin - Страница 11

Chapter 2

“Special Agent Keira Jones,” Nick D’Arcy was saying. “I think you know Special Agent Cody Walker, don’t you?”

Keira held out her hand to Cody. “Good to see you again” was all she said as she shook his hand.

“Same here,” Cody told her.

Cody threw a sideways questioning glance at D’Arcy, which Keira caught, but he didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her partner stiffen and his eyes narrow, and she knew she’d made a mistake admitting she knew Cody. She wondered if Trace was making the connection.

She’d told him the bare bones about her kidnapping and near-miraculous escape, but hadn’t given any specifics. And she hadn’t told him the name of her rescuer for a very good reason—she’d recognized Cody’s name as soon as he said it, had known he worked for the same agency as she did, and had hoped and prayed the story wouldn’t make the rounds of the office.

It was hard enough even now for a woman to make a career in a job that had traditionally been a man’s world, especially within the agency; she didn’t want to become the butt of office laughter over allowing herself to be kidnapped in that fashion and needing to be rescued by a fellow agent. A male agent.

She hadn’t recognized him that night. She and Cody had never met before; they didn’t work in the same division and their case loads hadn’t overlapped. But she’d heard the name Cody Walker when he’d received an agency commendation the year before, and Cody was an unusual name. When they’d made it to his car, breathless and panting after running through the night, he’d introduced himself almost as an afterthought.

She’d known then who he was, but she’d only told him her name was Keira. The Jones part would probably have been safe enough, but...she didn’t want to risk it.

They’d driven in silence for a few minutes before she’d even thought to say thanks. That was when he’d apologized for manhandling her, and she’d apologized for scratching him. But when he’d tried to take her to the hospital, she’d adamantly refused. The same for going to the police.

She’d asked him to drop her at her car instead, and he’d reluctantly agreed. When they’d reached her car, he’d insisted on finishing changing the tire for her and then had followed her all the way to I-70 to make sure she got back safely on the road to Denver.

She’d reported the incident, of course. Even though she hadn’t been working when she’d been kidnapped, once she’d made the connection between her rescuer and a fellow agent, she’d realized he had probably been on an undercover operation himself. If so, his cover had been blown, and she owed it to him to make sure he didn’t suffer any disagreeable consequences as a result.

But she hadn’t reported it up the chain of command. She couldn’t bring herself to do that; it would have been too humiliating. Instead, she’d made an appointment to see Baker Street himself—Nick D’Arcy—first thing Monday morning and had confessed everything. While McKinnon and Walker exchanged a few words, her thoughts winged back to that stark interview.

* * *

D’Arcy listened in silence until she was done, then asked a few questions. She tried to keep emotion out of her responses, as if she were merely an agent reporting to a superior officer regarding an assignment.

“You weren’t raped? You can tell me the truth.”

She flinched but answered him honestly. “No, sir. But I would have been, probably killed, too, if not for Walker.”

“You didn’t lose your service weapon?”

“No, sir. I wasn’t carrying it. I was on mandatory use-it-or-lose-it vacation.”

“What were you doing out there?”

“My family has a cabin near Dillon Reservoir, closer to Keystone than to Silverthorne. My partner called me Friday afternoon, asked me to come back early from vacation because he had a hot lead on one of the cases we’re working and wanted my assistance following up on it. He knows me, knows I’d want to be involved if... Well, anyway, he wanted us to get together early Saturday. I was driving home to Denver Friday evening when I had a flat tire on Loveland Pass Road. I was in the middle of changing the flat when a car pulled up behind me. The driver got out and asked if I needed help. I told him no, thanks, but then...the other two men got out of the car.”

She hesitated, knowing she could never tell D’Arcy the fear that had gripped her in that instant...and the despair. Fear and despair she’d refused to give in to, but which she would remember forever. “I do have a carry permit for a personal weapon, sir, but the gun was locked in my glove compartment. Maybe I should have had it handy, but it’s not as if Loveland Pass is deserted—cars pass there all the time. I didn’t think...just changing a tire... And it wasn’t even dark yet at that point...”

“They didn’t get your gun?”

“No, sir. They didn’t touch my car. Not even to get my wallet. Just me.”

“How did you recover your car?”

“Walker dropped me there. He didn’t want to, but I insisted. He followed me all the way to the highway to make sure I was okay.”

D’Arcy sat in silence for a few minutes, digesting her answers. “Thank you for telling me this,” he said finally.

In a small voice, Keira said, “I realize it doesn’t reflect well on the agency, sir, or on me. If you think I should resign, I will.”

He frowned. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We all make mistakes. And you weren’t even on duty at the time.”

“No, but—”

“No,” he said. “It’s not a mistake you’ll repeat. And the fact that you’ve reported it to me is a plus. It says a lot about you.”

“I just didn’t want Walker to get into trouble,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right—not after he saved my life.” She glanced down at her hands, saw the bruises around her wrists that her long-sleeved blouse didn’t cover and surreptitiously pulled down her cuffs.

But she wasn’t fast enough, and D’Arcy said, “Have you seen a doctor?”

She nodded. “Walker wanted to take me to the hospital Friday night, but I wouldn’t let him. And I wouldn’t let him take me to file a police report, either. I figured his cover had been blown, but I didn’t know what else his operation had entailed. I didn’t want to draw police attention to that area, just in case there was something else going down. But I did see my own doctor first thing Saturday morning, before I met my partner.” Her lips tightened, then she added as if she couldn’t help herself, “Trace and I closed that case yesterday, sir.” It wasn’t much compared to how she felt about botching Walker’s operation, but it was something positive at least.

D’Arcy rubbed his chin with his long fingers, then said, “Okay, then.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “You’ve done the right thing by telling me, but that’s as far as it goes. Don’t be afraid it will get out—I’m not even going to put a notation in your jacket,” he said. “You’re an excellent agent and you’ve done some outstanding work for this agency. I don’t want to lose you. And don’t brood about it. Take a lesson from it and move on.”

* * *

Now, in Nick D’Arcy’s office for the second time in a week, Keira remembered the sense of relief that had flooded her when he’d refused her resignation. She loved her job, loved the challenge, the excitement of solving cases no one else could solve. But most of all she loved making a difference, making the world a safer place—the same reason she’d joined the Marine Corps right out of high school. She’d felt honor bound to tender her resignation to D’Arcy but was grateful it hadn’t come to that.

At D’Arcy’s invitation, Keira sat down between her partner and Cody Walker. Then D’Arcy said four words, “The New World Militia.” Trace started to speak, glanced at Cody over Keira’s head and kept mum. “I’m bringing Walker in on this investigation,” D’Arcy explained. “Ryan Callahan called him.”

“Callahan?” McKinnon said. “Damn. That means the rumors are true.”

“Who’s Ryan Callahan?” Keira asked, looking from one face to the other and settling on her partner.

Before Trace could respond, Cody said, “Former cop. Undercover for five years with the New World Militia at the instigation of the FBI. Practically single-handedly brought down the organization six years ago.”

“I think you had something to do with that yourself,” D’Arcy said drily.

Cody made a dismissive gesture. “Maybe. But without him there wouldn’t have been much of a case to prosecute in the first place.” He looked at Keira. “He called me this afternoon, said that he knows the organization has been resurrected. He wouldn’t tell me how he knew, over what he said was an unsecured phone line, but I’ll tell you this—if he says he knows, I damn well believe him.”

A long silence followed his harsh statement. Then D’Arcy looked at Keira and Trace. “I know you haven’t been working this case very long, but what have you got?”

Keira glanced at Trace, who made a gesture signaling for her to go ahead. “We took the information you gave us,” she told D’Arcy, “and we checked it out. There’s no tangible proof yet, nothing we can take to a grand jury regarding the New World Militia. But there is a common thread connecting everyone on your list. They are part of a political action committee—a super PAC, actually—called NOANC. It can’t be a coincidence.”

D’Arcy leaned back in his chair, rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “I was hoping I was wrong.” He looked at Cody and said softly, “Five senators, more than two dozen congressmen and I don’t know who all else.”

“What?” Cody sat up in his chair. “That’s not possible. The organization was destroyed six years ago. How—”

“That’s what you’re going to find out,” D’Arcy said. “You’re relieved of the rest of your case load as of right now, Walker. I’ll clear it down the line. And since Callahan prefers not to have your partner in on this...” He shrugged. “That’s the way it will have to be for now.”

He looked at Keira and Trace. “Because of his extensive background with the New World Militia and his connection with Callahan, I’m putting Walker in charge—you’ll report directly to him. Turn over any other cases you’ve got running to your supervisor. I’ll make sure he understands, but brief him thoroughly.”

His expression was deadly serious as he faced the three agents in front of him. “I’m sending you to Black Rock to talk with Callahan, find out what he’s got. Bring him in on the investigation, if that’s what it takes. No one knows better than him that this organization is a cancer, and if we don’t excise it—fast!—it might be too late.”

Cody glanced at Keira, then back at D’Arcy. “Callahan won’t like it,” he said. He looked at Keira again, an apology in his eyes. “Callahan doesn’t know you and he doesn’t trust you. I don’t think he’ll talk if you’re there.”

D’Arcy nodded, acknowledging the truth of Cody’s statement as far as it went. “He might not like it, but there’s one thing he knows as well as I do—the New World Militia doesn’t recruit women. There’s not a chance in hell Special Agent Jones is a member.” He looked at the two men. “I can’t say that about either of you.”

Cody and Trace looked at each other. Glancing from one man to the other, Keira saw the sudden suspicion in both sets of eyes. “Stop it,” she said, “both of you. I know Trace,” she told Cody. “He’s been my partner for three years, ever since I joined the agency. I know him like I know myself.” She looked at Trace. “I don’t know Cody the way I know you, but I trust him with my life, the same way I trust you.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed again, and he looked as if he were going to demand further elucidation of her statement, but Nick D’Arcy preempted him. “That’s enough,” he said. “I just wanted to make a point. That’s why I’m sending Special Agent Jones as well as the two of you. Even though Callahan might not trust her, I do. End of discussion.”

It was a dismissal, and all three agents rose and filed out. Cody walked toward the elevator and punched the button, Keira and Trace right behind him.

“Wait up,” Keira said. “We need to talk about next steps.”

Cody glanced down at her and gave her an assessing look. “I’ve got to talk to Callahan, see what he says.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about it first, the three of us?”

“Look,” he said, “don’t take this the wrong way. But O’Neill is a tad, shall we say, old-school?”

“O’Neill?” She knew her face reflected her puzzlement. “I thought his name was Callahan.”

Cody rubbed the bridge of his nose, his lips pursing at his mistake. “It is. But when I first knew him, he was going by the name of Reilly O’Neill. Sometimes I still call him that out of habit.”

“Oh, I see.” She thought a moment. “What do you mean he’s a tad old-school?”

The elevator arrived, and they all crowded in. “What floor?” Cody asked.

“Twelve,” Trace volunteered.

Cody pushed the button for the twelfth floor as well as the fifth-floor button for his own office.

Keira reiterated her question. “What do you mean he’s a tad old-school?”

Cody looked at Trace. “You know him, too, McKinnon. Wouldn’t you say he’s a throwback?”

Trace laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

Cody grimaced. “There’s no easy way to tell you, but...Callahan won’t like it that a woman is involved in the investigation.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She glanced from Cody to her partner, then back again. Both faces had that expression men hid behind when they didn’t know what to say to a woman because no matter what they said, it was suicide one way or the other. “That’s not just old-school—he must be a dinosaur.”

Cody laughed but said, “I have to talk to him about this, get his okay before we plan anything. I don’t care what Baker Street says—if Callahan says no, it’s no.”

Keira opened her mouth, then closed it again. She made a sound of disbelief, but she didn’t know what to say. She turned accusatory eyes on her partner. “Is that how you feel, too?”

Trace had that “deer in the headlights” look, but all he said was “It’s not my call,” then added in an undertone, “thank God.”

“I don’t believe this,” Keira said to him, hurt battling anger for dominance as she confronted him. “We’ve been partners for three years. I thought you trusted me.”

“I do,” Trace reassured her. “But I’m not Callahan. I can’t speak for him.”

“Look,” Cody began. “It’s nothing against you personally....”

The elevator door opened on the twelfth floor and Trace made his escape, but Keira stayed right where she was. She put her arm across the elevator door, preventing it from closing again, and when she did, her sleeve pulled up, exposing an ugly green-and-yellow bruise that encircled her wrist.

“God,” Cody said, suddenly distressed. “Did I do that to you?” He reached out and touched her wrist with two fingers, brushing the bruise so lightly it didn’t hurt. He raised a troubled face to hers.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “It might have been you. Or it might have been one of the animals who jumped me.”

He moved closer and held the elevator door open with his shoulder while he fit his fingers around her wrist. They matched the bruise exactly. “I am so sorry,” he said. She saw him swallow hard. “I didn’t realize...” He reached for her other wrist and pushed the sleeve back before she could stop him, exposing an even uglier bruise. His face contracted as if the sight hurt him.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I bruise easily. You did what you had to do to save me. I don’t blame you. I...” He was brushing his fingers lightly over the bruise, back and forth, as if he could erase it that way, and the touch of his fingers was somehow erotic. She drew her hand away and pulled down the sleeve. “I’d far rather have the bruises than what else might have happened to me.” Her chin tilted up.

There was just a second when she saw something in his eyes—a look of admiration tinged with frank, male appreciation—but it was gone so quickly she thought she must have imagined it.

“Besides,” she added, pointing to the faint scratch marks on his left cheek. “I hurt you, too.”

His hand rose involuntarily, as if he’d forgotten all about the marks she’d left on him. But then she could see him remembering what he’d done to her to make her scratch him so violently, and remorse filled his face.

“Don’t think about that,” Keira said swiftly, and repeated, “You did what you had to do, and—” she made each of her next words a separate sentence for emphasis “—I. Don’t. Blame. You.”

“I didn’t mean to be so...brutal.”

“What you did was nothing compared to what they had in mind,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, but...”

“But nothing,” she said firmly. “Forget about it. I have,” she lied.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her in a way that reminded her of the moment when he’d told her to tie up her shirt that first night, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. That was the worst thing about having the pale skin that accompanied her red hair; any change in coloration was noticeable.

Two people approached the elevator, glancing curiously at Cody and Keira talking so intently. Keira brushed past the other two agents, and Cody followed her out. The elevator doors slid closed behind them.

“Wait,” he said. “We’re not quite finished.”

She turned around, darting a quick look around to see if anyone was watching them, then asked, “What is it?”

“I started to say it’s nothing against you personally why O’Ne—I mean Callahan probably won’t want to include you.” He punched the elevator button again. “It’s a long story, and maybe I’ll tell you sometime, but I’ve got a bullet hole in me because Callahan didn’t even trust the woman he eventually married with the truth.”

Keira shook her head in puzzlement. “I don’t get it. If he didn’t trust her, why did he marry her?”

Cody chuckled. “Good question. Seriously, though, by the time he married her, he did trust her. But it wasn’t easy for him.” The elevator doors swooshed open, and he stepped inside, holding the door for a minute while he finished. “Callahan doesn’t trust many people, and I’d say Mandy’s probably the only woman he does trust.”

The elevator doors closed, and Keira stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the brushed metal, her sixth sense humming. There was something in the way Cody had said Mandy’s name. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. But then most people didn’t work for the agency, either. It was just the slightest softening when he spoke her name. A certain inflection. And Keira knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mandy, whoever she was, had once meant something special to Cody. Maybe still did.

She turned and walked down the hall toward her office. Without realizing it, her right hand touched her left wrist and felt the bruise there. She looked down at both wrists, thinking absently about the other bruises on her body hidden beneath her clothes that no one but she—and her doctor—had seen. Including the imprint of four fingers and a thumb on one still-tender breast.

Keira walked into her office and sat at her desk. She knew she should be upset that she might be unfairly excluded from this investigation because Callahan was a throwback to the bad old days and didn’t think women were up to the job. She knew she could prove him wrong—if she got the chance. She’d been fighting her whole life to be taken seriously, and she wasn’t ready to give up; not by a long shot.

But she wasn’t thinking about that at this moment. She wasn’t thinking about proving herself to Callahan. It made absolutely no sense to her because she’d never allowed her personal feelings to infringe on her work before, but all she could think about in that instant were the marks Cody had left on her body—and the way he’d said Mandy’s name.