by Amelia Autin
“He wants in.”
“You didn’t have to tell me that,” she said drily.
“I understand where he’s coming from—I’d feel the same—but...”
“But he’s a civilian,” Keira finished for him.
“Yeah.” Cody glanced her way. “I don’t know how we’d manage to keep him out, though. If we didn’t include him, he’d just go his own way. I know him.”
“Then we’d better find a way to include him. Better to have him on the team than taking the law into his own hands and maybe getting in our way.”
Cody chuckled ruefully. “Practical Keira,” he said, smiling down at her.
She smiled back. “I try to be.”
Their eyes met, and suddenly Cody wasn’t thinking about the case. It was still there in the background, looming over them, but in that instant he was focused on Keira, and the way her brown eyes and her mobile mouth softened when she smiled.
She must have read something in his expression because her smile faded as she gazed up at him. Cody saw a flash of some emotion in her eyes in response before she shut it down, but he was better able to read her now. Just as he’d known earlier she’d uncovered something crucial to the case, he knew she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she pretended.
He took a step closer to her just as the elevator doors opened. Damn! he thought. Now’s not the time. But he resolved he wasn’t going to put it off any longer. Tonight, he told himself. I’ll talk to her tonight.
He just wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say.
D’Arcy was standing in the outer office talking to his executive assistant when they walked in. “Walker, Jones,” he greeted them. “You’re right on time. Come on in.” He led them into the inner office and closed the door behind them. “Before we start on this, you’ll both be happy to know we had a positive resolution on Walker’s earlier case.”
Cody shot a sharp glance at D’Arcy, then at Keira to see how she would react. “Thank you, sir,” he said, noting the expression of relief on Keira’s face. It had obviously been bothering her she’d inadvertently caused the failure of that original sting operation. “My partner did happen to mention it the other day.” Hell, I probably should have told Keira, Cody thought, even though he knew she didn’t have an official “need to know.” But he should have known it had been eating at her—she was that kind of agent.
“Good,” D’Arcy said. “So, what have you got on this case?”
Cody waited for him to sit behind his desk. “It’s Keira’s story,” he said, handing the file to D’Arcy before sitting down himself. “She’ll tell it better than I can.”
Keira flashed him a questioning look, and Cody wondered if she thought he’d try to take credit for her work. That had never been his style, but maybe she didn’t know it, so he smiled encouragingly at her. “Tell him what you told me,” he said.
She did, but Cody noticed the animation she’d had in her face and her voice when she’d recounted what she’d found to him was missing. This time she was the consummate dispassionate professional agent, reporting to a superior officer.
When she was done, D’Arcy sat back, holding the FBI report from nine years ago in his hand, perusing it. He read it through twice before putting it back in the folder. “Suspicious circumstances?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Keira responded promptly. “The author of the report was killed as he walked home from the subway. It looked like a simple mugging, but there was one thing that stood out to investigators at the time. His wallet was taken, but he was wearing an expensive gold watch and a wedding ring, neither of which was touched. The case was never solved, even though the FBI supposedly threw the resources of their office behind the investigation.”
“Supposedly?” D’Arcy asked, unerringly focusing on the most crucial element of her statement.
Keira nodded. “I can’t find a record of anyone in the FBI’s New York office being assigned to the investigation, but...the SAC reported to his superiors that the investigation was ongoing.”
“In other words,” he said, voicing what they were all thinking, “the SAC—who is now the junior senator from New York—buried the report connecting the New World Militia to the Russian mob, arranged for the author of the report to be killed, and hindered the subsequent investigation into the murder.”
“Yes, sir,” Keira confirmed.
“Great. Just great.” D’Arcy swiveled his chair away from Cody and Keira, staring at the far wall. “No wonder,” he said softly to himself.
“Sir?” she asked.
“That was the last unanswered question I had from six years ago,” he said, turning a cold face to her. “Brooks betrayed Callahan’s partner, Josh Thurman, to the militia, but he never would say how he knew—that information was compartmentalized, and he shouldn’t have known anything about Thurman. Now it all makes sense.”
He added softly, “And here’s something you might know, but maybe not. Brooks was killed in prison less than a year after he and Walsh began serving their sentences. Shanked by a fellow inmate in the prison yard. And Walsh died—ostensibly from a heart attack—four months later.”
“So, someone got to them...on the inside,” Cody said. “Sounds more like the Russian mob than the militia.”
D’Arcy frowned. “Doesn’t matter either way. They’re both dead, so neither one can add anything to the official record.” He looked at Keira, then back at Cody. “So, what’s your plan now?”
Keira glanced at Cody, shaking her head slightly, and he knew she was telling him she wasn’t prepared with an answer. She’d uncovered the critical links, but...
“The Praetor Corporation is the key,” Cody said, an idea coming to him. “Pennington’s son—although he goes by the name Michael Vishenko, he’s still Pennington’s son—owns the company through a series of shell corporations. Keira already found the link between it and NOANC. But there’s got to be a paper trail between the Praetor Corporation and the Russian mob, as well as between the Russian mob and the New World Militia. We just have to find it.”
“Any ideas?” D’Arcy asked. “And how do those last words of Callahan’s neighbor tie in? What about that key he gave Callahan?”
“No ideas yet,” Cody told him. “We haven’t figured out what Tressler’s words mean, either, or what the key is for. But there’s something you should know. Callahan wants in on the investigation.”
D’Arcy picked up the FBI report again and looked from it to Cody. “We owe him,” he said grimly. “The FBI recruited him to go undercover with the militia in the first place. He sacrificed his career and risked his life to put Pennington behind bars. He trusted us—me—to protect him when he went into the witness security program. We failed him.” His voice was filled with savage self-recrimination. “I failed him.”
He paused to gain control of his emotions. “The militia—or the Russian mob—had men inside the FBI, inside the U.S. Marshals Service. Because of that, Pennington had Thurman, his wife and his baby son murdered trying to get to Callahan.”
His face was colder than Cody had ever seen it. “Anything Callahan wants, he’s entitled to. Keep that in mind. Just remember...”
“Yes, sir,” Cody said, knowing what D’Arcy was going to say. “This is my case. I won’t forget.”
* * *
It was after six when Cody and Keira wrapped up for the day. Cody called Callahan, and although she only heard Cody’s side of the conversation, she could imagine what the other man was saying.
“You’re in, but remember the agency is running the show. You can’t let your emotions get in the way,” Cody warned. “We have to be professional about this.” He laughed at something Callahan said before he hung up.
Amateur, Keira thought, I’ll bet that’s what Callahan said that made him laugh.
Before she could think about it, she asked, “So, are you ever going to tell me what ‘amateur’ means when you and Callahan say it to each other?”
“How’d you kn—”
he began, looking from the cell phone to her.
“The way you laughed,” she said simply. “It’s the same way you laughed before when he said it to you, and the way he laughed when you said it to him.”
Cody drew in a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but I guess you have a right to know.”
“Only if you want to tell me.”
“Not here,” he said. “Not in the office.”
“Where?”
He gave her a steady, considering look. “My place?”
She thought about it for a second, then shook her head. “My condo?”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Want to pick up some dinner on the way?”
“If you want to eat a decent meal, you’re going to have to,” she said with a wry smile. “I can open cans and heat up frozen dinners in the microwave, but my mom despaired of teaching me to cook.”
Cody smiled back. “Let me guess. None of your brothers can cook either. Right?”
“How’d you know?”
“Ahhh, that would be telling,” he teased her.
Keira’s eyes narrowed, but playfully. “Trace has a big mouth.”
Cody held up his hands in mock protest. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
“You asked him about me?” Keira was curious. “When?”
Cody’s playful smile turned rueful. “In the truck on the way up to Wyoming.”
“Oh.” Keira’s heart skipped a beat as she realized what this meant, what it had to mean. Even before he kissed me, she thought, a frisson of excitement running through her veins. He was interested even before that.
Cody raised a hand as if to touch her cheek, but stopped himself. “I wanted to know about you. Who knows you better than your partner?”
“You could have asked me.”
Cody shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ve been trying to ask you for almost two weeks, but...you never tell me anything about yourself. You always change the subject.” His eyes held hers and wouldn’t let her look away.
“Is that what...?” she asked, her heartbeat picking up the pace. “I knew you—” She stopped herself just in time before she said, I knew you wanted me. “I didn’t realize...”
He nodded, totally serious now. “Before we go any further, we need to talk about the agency’s rule on fraternization.”
“You’re not my supervisor,” she said quickly.
“I know that. But I am the agent in charge.” He hesitated. “Up ’til now I’ve told myself the time we’ve spent together is related to the case. Maybe I was stretching things a bit, telling myself what I wanted to believe, but...”
“You’re not my supervisor,” she reiterated, raising her chin and giving him a fierce look. “That’s the only hard-and-fast rule against fraternization—and we’re not breaking it.”
He stared down at her, one corner of his mouth teasing up into the little half grin she loved. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. But first I need to tell you some things about me. Things you’re entitled to know. Then...” He left the rest hanging, as if he wanted to leave Keira an out, just in case.
Keira searched his face, his eyes, and her breath quickened. There was so much she longed to know about him, so much she wanted to ask. Maybe tonight she’d get the answers she needed. Maybe tonight’s the night for other things, too.
Part of her was afraid. Not of anything he might do to her, but of what she might reveal to him. And what she might learn about herself. But part of her wanted this, wanted him, as much as he seemed to want her. “Let’s get dinner,” she said before her courage failed her.
* * *
They finished the Italian take-out dinner in the small dining area of Keira’s condo and tossed the trash. “Want some coffee?” she asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer if the number of coffee mugs in his cabin meant anything. “I can’t cook, but I make good coffee.”
“Sure.”
“I seem to recall you prefer regular, not decaf.”
He smiled. “Night or day, it’s the same. I prefer the jolt of caffeine.”
He stood in the doorway of her tiny kitchen, dwarfing it, watching as she made the coffee. “Black, no sugar, right?” she asked when the pot was nearly finished brewing, feeling just a little flustered at his looming presence...and his silence.
“Right.”
She took a large coffee mug from the cabinet, filled it, and handed it to him. He took a sip and made a face of appreciation, then took a larger swallow.
“Let’s go into the living room,” she said, turning off the coffeemaker.
“Aren’t you having any?” Cody asked.
Keira shook her head. “Not at this time of night. But it won’t go to waste. I’ll reheat it in the morning.” She laughed at his look of horror regarding drinking coffee that wasn’t brewed fresh, then led him into the living room and indicated the sofa. For a minute she was undecided whether to sit in the armchair, but then—boldly for her—sat next to him, just an arm’s length away.
“Amateur,” she encouraged softly. “You were going to tell me....”
Cody looked away for a minute and put his half-empty cup down on the coffee table in front of him. His face reflected his indecision, but then his expression hardened. “There was a time when Callahan hated my guts,” he said finally. “And I felt nearly the same about him, just for a different reason.”
His eyes met Keira’s. “I’d loved Mandy all my life up to that point—you already know that much. But I had to watch her fall for O’Nei—Callahan—when he moved to Black Rock through the witness security program.”
He rubbed the side of his face, obviously uncomfortable with the memory. “Callahan didn’t know how I felt at the time. I don’t think Mandy knew, either—not then. Not until...” He broke off.
“Anyway, Callahan didn’t hate me when he first moved to Black Rock. We respected each other professionally, and worked together just fine. We probably could have been friends if not for...well, anyway, he didn’t grow to hate me the way I hated him until a long time later. I don’t blame him, though—I would have hated me, too, under the circumstances.”
“Why?”
One corner of his mouth twitched into a sad travesty of a smile. “Because I slept with Mandy.”
Chapter 12
“Oh.” It hurt, more than Keira had thought possible. She’d known there was something between the two men. And she’d known somehow it involved Mandy. But hearing Cody confirm her suspicions caused a physical ache in the region of her heart.
“She wasn’t his wife at the time,” Cody continued, his lips twisting. “But I’m not making excuses. On some level I knew it was wrong...and I did it, anyway. The only thing I can say in my defense is that I didn’t plan it...at least not consciously.”
“So, what happened?”
“It’s a long story. Are you sure you really want to hear it?”
She nodded, struggling to keep condemnation or any other negative expression out of her face. “I’d like to understand...if you want to tell me.”
Cody stared into the distance. “It started almost eight years ago,” he said. “Some other people you know were involved, too—D’Arcy and McKinnon.”
“Trace did tell me some things,” she offered.
“But he couldn’t tell you this story because he doesn’t know it. Not the important parts, anyway.”
“Then, you tell me,” she said softly.
Cody thought for a moment, as if he were trying to find the right thread to begin. “It’s a bit involved. I was the sheriff in Black Rock, but I was also working undercover in the militia way back then. Some people were openly members of the militia, but I wasn’t. My code name in the militia was Centurion.” He laughed humorlessly. “Pennington picked the name. He thought it was clever. Maybe it was.”
He breathed deeply. “D’Arcy knew I was undercover. He was responsible for Ryan Callahan, and it was his idea to send him to Black Rock after Pennington’s trial, and
Callahan agreed. I know I already told you D’Arcy figured if Pennington somehow tracked Callahan down, I’d get wind of it and would be able to warn him.”
She nodded.
“It actually worked out better than that—when Pennington located Callahan I was given the assignment of eliminating him. But I’m getting ahead of the story.”
His eyes took on a faraway expression as he looked into the distant past. “You already know Callahan came to Black Rock under an alias—Reilly O’Neill. He fell for Mandy. Hard. It was the same for her. Two months after they met, they...became lovers.”
Keira closed her eyes momentarily at the pain in Cody’s voice, a pain she felt twisting inside her.
“Some of this I inferred by what happened later. Neither of them actually told me, of course, but I...I had my suspicions early on. Mandy never was good at hiding how she felt. And even if she’d wanted to, I don’t think she could have hidden it from me. I knew her too well.”
He stopped and took a deep swallow of coffee, then stared down into the cup. After a minute Keira said, “Go on.”
“Callahan had been in Black Rock about six months when Pennington tracked him there. I was ordered to kill him, but not just in any way I saw fit. Pennington was obsessed with seeing Callahan in hell—a vow he’d made after Callahan testified against him and put him in jail—so Callahan had to die by fire.
“D’Arcy, McKinnon, Callahan and I set it up to fake Callahan’s death. We rigged his truck with explosives, and D’Arcy even arranged for a cadaver to be burned in the truck.” He grimaced at the memory. “We also had a fake autopsy report all ready, identifying the corpse as Callahan, to make it more realistic.”
Cody paused for a moment. “Callahan was afraid that if Pennington had tracked him down once, it could happen again, so he insisted we not tell Mandy. He said he’d rather give her up than risk having anything happen to her.” A wry smile played over Cody’s lips. “That’s the throwback part of him. In his world a man doesn’t put the woman he loves in jeopardy. Even if it means breaking her heart.” The smile faded.
