by Amelia Autin
Cody was still careful, of course; he hadn’t imagined being tailed two weeks ago. He alternated his route to and from work every day, so if anyone was following him, they wouldn’t be able to latch on to a pattern and plan an ambush. And he watched his rearview mirror constantly. He’d never again seen the guy who’d been tailing him before he went to Wyoming, although he knew that didn’t mean anything—the militia could easily have any number of different people switching off following him. But the urgency he’d felt when Callahan first called him was no longer there.
And he wasn’t complaining about his current job, even though he’d always hated being chained to a desk in the past. There was something to be said for going home at a decent hour and getting a full night’s sleep. Not to mention having time for a social life.
A social life. That was a bit of a misnomer, when the woman you were courting seemed oblivious to your overtures, and you had to resort to stratagems to spend time with her away from work.
Pathetic, Cody thought with a rueful laugh. He’d quickly learned Keira was a tigress when she was working a case, especially when she was onto something. But ever since they’d returned to Denver, he’d managed to spend time with her nearly every weeknight. The first week they’d discussed the case as they grabbed a bite to eat after work before heading their respective ways.
Then a week ago he’d surprised her with an invitation to a lecture on “Crime in the New Millennium” on the campus of the University of Colorado on Saturday afternoon. He’d carefully picked something he knew she’d have trouble turning down, and she hadn’t. And he’d avoided treating it like a date, although he had talked her into having dinner with him afterward.
They’d had a great time that evening sharing their different takes on the lecture. But when he’d tried to get her to open up about herself, she’d steadfastly refused to go below the surface, adroitly steering the conversation into other channels when it got too personal.
Sunday he’d invited her to go to the shooting range with him, and although she’d hesitated, she hadn’t refused that invitation, either. They’d made it a challenge to see who could score more points in a variety of competition rounds. Cody had been secretly amused at how competitive Keira was and how much joy she’d gotten out of beating him—joy she was hard-pressed to hide. Losing to her hadn’t dented his ego. He knew if the competition had been knives instead of guns, she wouldn’t have been able to hold a candle to him.
This past week she hadn’t even hesitated about accepting when he’d invited her to dinner every night—she’d almost seemed to be expecting it. But now it was Thursday. One more day and the weekend loomed before him. You’re running out of excuses, he told himself. Maybe you’d better just tell her the truth.
The truth. That was a good one. The truth was...he didn’t know what the truth was. He just knew he wanted to be with her no matter what, even if it meant taking a desk assignment to make it possible.
He wanted to listen to her arguing with herself and him about what she liked to call “next steps.” He’d shared the field reports with her as they came in, and at first she’d devoured them as he did, searching for clues that might trigger a breakthrough. But lately she’d seemed distracted, as if the information they contained wasn’t crucial to the case.
He wanted to watch her face come alive as she animatedly discussed theories of the case, what she was uncovering and what it meant. Although the past few days she hadn’t said much of anything, almost as if she didn’t want to jinx whatever it was she was onto by saying anything about it.
And he wanted—desperately wanted—to take her to bed. That physical obsession had grown until it was now a constant ache, just barely contained. Cody was finding it increasingly difficult to lock away how he felt, especially since Keira was there...every day...just a few feet away from him at times. So close. And yet, an impossible distance away.
It was easier for Callahan, he thought. When he let Mandy think he was dead, he didn’t have her around as a constant reminder...and a temptation.
Cody knew he’d changed over the past two weeks in ways he couldn’t reconcile with his conscience. He’d never considered himself an alpha male—the leader of the wolf pack. Those were the Callahans of this world.
But ever since that day at his cabin, when he’d acknowledged that anyone who touched Keira was a dead man, he’d realized he didn’t know himself as well as he’d thought. In addition to his obsession with her, he could now add a dangerous possessiveness. Dangerous, because his growing frustration was telling him to just take, whether or not she wanted to give. And that wasn’t him at all. That had never been his style with women.
His protective instincts where Keira was concerned didn’t apply to him—he wanted to protect her from everyone and everything—except him.
Just tell her the truth. Right. That’ll work like a charm, Walker.
* * *
Keira pressed the “print” icon to send the last document to the secure printer, then locked her computer and rose from her desk. She stood by the printer, keyed in her pass code to release the documents, then drummed her fingers impatiently as the documents printed, one by one, forming an impressive stack. She could hardly wait to show Cody what she’d uncovered. He’d be just as excited as she was, and he’d be so proud of her he’d have to—
Have to what? she asked herself sharply, knowing all the while what the answer was.
He’d have to respect her. He’d have to admit she wasn’t the weak link on the team. Wasn’t that what she’d been thinking in the back of her mind all this time, ever since that day in his cabin in Wyoming? Proving herself to him? Making him respect her? Making him proud of her?
And why?
Keira picked up the stack of documents and walked slowly back to her office. She sat down and sorted the documents into a logical order, stapling certain pages together before placing everything in a file folder, as if she could distract herself by focusing on the case. But that wasn’t going to work—not anymore. Not now that she’d solved a major part of the puzzle.
Maybe you can hide it from everyone else, she told herself with brutal honesty, but you can’t hide it from yourself. You want him to be proud of you because...
Because she was falling in love with him.
She stared at the folder for a minute, her stomach churning along with her thoughts. She’d managed to suppress her wayward emotions for the past two weeks, sublimating what she now acknowledged as her growing love for Cody into her investigative zeal. But in her lonely bed at night, she’d cherished every moment they’d spent together, reliving in her mind his words, his smile and the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching.
Not to mention the way he’d kissed her at his cabin. The way her body ached for his touch so that she tossed and turned on her pillow every night before falling asleep and dreaming of him. The way her treacherous thoughts kept wandering down sensual pathways she’d never realized she wanted to follow.
She just hadn’t let herself focus on any of those things when Cody was around, because she didn’t want him to know how she felt. Not until she’d proven herself to him. Not until she regained the self-respect she’d lost when she’d needed him to rescue her.
He’d never touched her since that day at his cabin, but she knew he wanted her—she could see it in his eyes, could feel it emanating from him. And now... Keira took a deep breath as a secret smile began to form. She tucked the file folder under one arm and headed for the elevator.
* * *
Cody frowned and made a notation on his spreadsheet, a meager clue for one of the agents to follow up on. A sound made him look up from his computer. Keira was standing in the doorway to his office, a thick file folder under one arm and the expression on her face a dead giveaway...to him, at least. “You’ve got something,” he said immediately.
“I had to pierce the corporate veil on three shell companies, but, yes, I do.” She closed the office door behind her. “Does t
he name Michael Vishenko mean anything to you?”
Cody frowned. “No. Should it?”
“Would it mean something if you knew Vishenko was his mother’s maiden name?” A tiny smile teased the corners of her lips, and her eyes were electric. She put the file folder down on his desk, facing him, and flipped it open. “Marriage certificate for Mariella Vishenko thirty-five years ago...to David Pennington.”
“What?”
She turned a page. “New York birth certificate for Michael Pennington, thirty-four years ago. Parents, David and Mariella Pennington.”
“Pennington had a son?”
“Mmm-hmm.” The second page followed the first. “Divorce decree for Mariella Vishenko from David Pennington, thirty-two years ago, cause of action—desertion.” Another page was turned over. “Petition the same year for a name change of a minor child—from Michael Pennington to Michael Vishenko. And there’s nothing in the record to indicate Pennington objected.”
Keira’s air of suppressed excitement told him there was more. “Guess who inherited Pennington’s fortune when he died? And although he stays far away from the day-to-day operations, guess who—through three shell corporations—owns the Praetor Corporation?”
“Wait a sec.” Cody held up one hand. “I thought Pennington forfeited his fortune under RICO,” he said, referring to the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, under which a racketeer forfeited all ill-gotten gains and any interest in a business gotten through a pattern of racketeering activity.
Keira’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, but Pennington’s conviction was overturned, remember? And he died before he could be retried. In essence that means he was never convicted under the RICO Act. Which means—”
“His fortune went to his heirs, not the government. Damn! Why didn’t we know this?”
“The FBI knew.” She riffled through several pages until she found the report she wanted, a copy of an official FBI document. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.
Cody scanned it quickly. “Damn!” he said again. “What else did the FBI know?”
“Michael Vishenko has no criminal record—a clean slate as an adult. But...”
“But you found something. What?”
“A juvenile arrest, no conviction. Guess who intervened on his behalf?”
“Pennington?”
She shook her head. “No. As far as I can tell, Pennington wasn’t involved much in his son’s life. It was Michael Vishenko’s uncle on his mother’s side, Aleksandrov Vishenko. You might know him better by his nickname, Alexei Vishenko.”
Cody felt himself go cold. “The Russian mob? You’re telling me the New World Militia is hand in glove with the Russian mob now?”
Keira’s eyes lost their excitement, and her face took on a solemn expression. “They always were connected to the Bratva—the Brotherhood,” she said softly. “You just didn’t know it.”
“Oh, my God.” Cody sat back in his chair, staring up at Keira, his brain racing. Disconnected facts suddenly started falling into place like a chain of dominos. Pennington resurfacing with a sizable fortune—from where, no one knew—only a few years after his release from Leavenworth after being cashiered from the Marine Corps. Arms dealing. Thefts of military-grade weapons. Suspected ties to one of the most powerful drug cartels in the country—the Russian mob? “Why didn’t anyone make the connection before this?”
Keira’s eyes hardened. “Someone did,” she said.
Cody froze. “Who?”
She pointed to the file on his desk. “There’s an FBI report in there, dated nine years ago, detailing the possible connection. The author of the report was killed—under suspicious circumstances—three weeks later. And the report was buried.” She took a deep breath. “The FBI doesn’t know I have that report or any of the other reports I got from their files—at least, I don’t think they do.”
“How did you get them?”
One corner of Keira’s mouth quirked upward. “Didn’t you know the agency has a secret data link directly into the FBI’s mainframes in Washington?”
D’Arcy, Cody thought with admiration, in his mind hearing his boss say, I have my own sources within the FBI...and a few other places....
“Do you know who suppressed that report?” Whoever had been responsible had to be involved, and Cody knew Keira was as aware of it as he was.
She spoke a name that seemed vaguely familiar to Cody, but he couldn’t place it, and his eyes asked the question. “He was the SAC of the FBI’s New York Field Office Criminal Division,” she said, using the abbreviation for special agent in charge. Her voice dropped a notch. “He retired from the FBI five years ago and went into politics. He’s the junior senator from New York now, one of the campaigns we already know was won through the intervention of NOANC—and the Praetor Corporation.”
A web within a web within a web, he thought. “What else have you got?”
“It’s all there in the file.” She took a deep breath. “We need to tell D’Arcy. And I think Callahan needs to be told his name isn’t on that list because he’s the sheriff.” Keira’s dry tone conveyed that no one had really thought this, least of all her. Then she added in a voice that wasn’t quite steady, “And I’d bet anything you want to stake they’re gunning for you, too.”
Chapter 11
“No bet,” Cody said lightly. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Special Agents Walker and Jones need to see the boss as soon as possible. Is he free?” He listened and glanced at his watch. “We’ll be there. Thanks.” When he hung up, he told Keira, “Have a seat. We’ve got an appointment in twenty minutes.”
She sank into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Are you going to wait to call Callahan?”
“No.” Cody started to pick up the phone, then thought better of it. He opened his drawer and pulled out the encrypted cell phone he’d used in Wyoming, the one he hoped couldn’t be traced back to him. He punched in a number. It rang and rang, but no one picked up. “Damn, where is he?” He let it ring a few more seconds, then hung up and dialed another number. This time it was answered.
“McKinnon,” said a voice in his ear.
“It’s Walker,” he said crisply. “Where’s Callahan?”
“Shift change. He’s briefing the deputy going on duty.”
“Tell him to call me immediately. It’s urgent.”
McKinnon asked guardedly, “Keira found something?”
“Yeah.” Cody wasn’t surprised at how McKinnon had worded the question. Keira’s partner had been right about her. She’d managed in less than two weeks to pull together assorted bits and pieces and assemble them into a complete—and deadly—picture. Even D’Arcy couldn’t have done a better job, he thought. “Would you believe a tie-in between the militia and the Russian mob? And not just now—back then, too.”
McKinnon cursed softly and fluently. Then he said, “Tell her— No, I’ll tell her myself. I’m a lucky man to have her as my partner. I’ll have Callahan call you as soon as he’s free.”
A click in his ear told him McKinnon had hung up. He disconnected, too, hearing McKinnon’s words again. I’m a lucky man to have her as my partner.
Cody gazed at Keira sitting across the desk from him, her red-gold curls tousled as if she’d been running her fingers through them as she worked, and realized the truth of those words far beyond what McKinnon had intended. Any man who had her in his life in any way was a lucky man.
And he wanted to be that man. Not as a working partner—no. What he wanted was so much more. He wanted to be the man in her life, the only man who counted. And he wanted her as his woman, so much it took his breath away.
The cell phone shrilled in Cody’s hand, and he almost answered it automatically with his last name until he remembered this wasn’t his official cell phone. “Yes?”
Ryan Callahan’s voice growled in his ear, “McKinnon said to call you. Said you’ve got something I need to know.”
“Yeah. Keira found it.” He qui
ckly relayed the facts she’d uncovered, as well as the conclusions she’d drawn from them. “It all fits,” Cody said. “The money, the way the militia was revived so quickly, the political tie-ins, everything.”
“A nice, neat little package,” Callahan agreed. “You realize what this means?”
“Yeah. It’s not going to be as easy as it was last time.”
“You got that right. Damn!” said the man on the other end. “If I’d known...”
Cody knew, as if he could read Callahan’s mind, that the other man was thinking about Mandy...and their three children. Callahan had walked away from Mandy once to protect her. Now she wasn’t the only one at risk. Now he had three children he loved as much as he loved Mandy, all of them equally in danger because of him.
“Does D’Arcy know?” Callahan asked.
“I’ve got an appointment to see him in—” Cody checked his watch “—nine minutes.”
“Whatever it is, I want in,” Callahan said grimly.
“It’s not your responsibility, not anymore,” Cody said. “You’ve done your duty.”
“This isn’t about duty, and you damn well know it,” Callahan responded in that implacable voice Cody remembered all too well. “This is my family at stake.”
“I’ll see what D’Arcy says.” But even as he said the words, Cody knew Callahan wouldn’t abide by D’Arcy’s ruling...unless it was the outcome Callahan wanted. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Keira and I don’t want to be late.”
“Keep me in the loop.”
“You know I will.”
Cody hung up, glanced at his watch and locked his computer. Then he picked up the thick file from his desk and stood up. “Let’s do it,” he told Keira.
As they rode up in the elevator, Keira asked, “What did Callahan say?”
