Killshadow Road

by Paula Graves

  She dropped her hand away and smiled back. “Go ahead. Just don’t go far. I was serious about trying to get some sleep before we go back out tonight. I don’t think we should try to get started before ten. We don’t need a lot of people out and about, wondering what we’re up to.”

  He left quickly, pausing beside the driver’s door of the Land Rover for a moment, breathing in the chilled spring air. Clouds gathered in the west, promising rain.

  It might turn out to be a miserable sort of night, he thought, wondering if they should postpone their hunting expedition for another night.

  But what was the alternative—spending all night in bed across from McKenna, wanting her but not letting himself have her?

  He pulled out his burner phone as he slid behind the wheel of the Land Rover and dialed Cain Dennison’s number.

  * * *

  “HE’S UP TO SOMETHING,” Olivia said from her perch on the edge of Quinn’s desk. She didn’t even bother with the niceties anymore, Quinn thought, watching her fiddle with the pencil holder in front of his desk blotter. “He was asking all sorts of questions about the Richmond incident.”

  “I suppose he suspects Cade Landry of blowing McKenna Rigsby’s cover with the BRI,” Quinn said, keeping an eye on Olivia’s face.

  Her expression didn’t shift, but there was a flicker of something in her blue eyes. “Probably. He was also asking about another agent, Darryl Boyle. Last I heard, Boyle was an SSA in the Knoxville Field Office.”

  So, Quinn thought. They had two suspects. And Darcy wanted to get his hands on a second laptop computer, with wireless and reliable video-streaming capability.

  Just what the hell was Darcy up to?

  * * *

  MCKENNA HADN’T EXPECTED to fall asleep while Darcy was out, but apparently her stamina hadn’t returned as much as she’d thought, for when she next opened her eyes, darkness had fallen outside the motel room, only the muddy light of the parking-lot lamps relieving the gloom.

  She sat up, blinking away sleep, and reached for the bedside lamp to check her watch. Almost nine.

  Then she realized Darcy’s bed was empty.

  “Darcy?” She got up and went into the bathroom.

  Empty.

  “Darcy?” She went back out to the main area and looked around thoroughly, though there was nowhere in the tiny room for anyone to hide, especially a man as big and solid as Darcy. She even ventured outside the motel room to check the back parking lot for any sign of the Land Rover.

  It wasn’t there.

  She hurried to the room and closed herself inside, her heart hammering in her chest.

  How long had he been gone? At least three hours, right? He had left around six, just as night was beginning to fall.

  “Oh, Darcy,” she whispered to the empty motel room as she sank onto the end of his bed. “Where the hell are you?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Headlights appeared in the gloom, coming around a blind curve in the twisting mountain road where Darcy had parked the Land Rover. He was outside the vehicle, hidden, unwilling to make quite so easy a target in case Cain Dennison had double-crossed him.

  The headlights dimmed and extinguished, and as Darcy’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out the massive cab of Dennison’s F-150 in the pale wash of moonlight. The driver’s door opened, engaging the dome light inside the truck cab. Dennison hadn’t come alone as asked, Darcy saw with a grimace. The girlfriend had tagged along.

  The deputy-sheriff girlfriend.

  Sara Lindsey’s dark eyes scanned the scene, ever the cop, looking for signs of trouble in even the most mundane of situations. And Darcy supposed meeting a suspended agent up to his neck in skulduggery was hardly a mundane situation.

  He stepped out of the shadows as they approached the Land Rover. “So much for coming alone.”

  Both Dennison and his girlfriend jerked their heads toward him in unison. “You try telling her no,” Dennison drawled.

  Darcy looked at Sara, who met his gaze steadily. “This is not a police matter.”

  Her lips curved, just a hint. “You’re not a cop, so I’m not sure you get to make that decision. But, for the record, I’m not here as a sheriff’s deputy. And I know sometimes the letter of the law gets in the way of justice. I’m here to help.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Darcy murmured. He looked at Dennison. “Tell me why I should trust you after this.”

  “Because I’m all you’ve got,” Dennison retorted. “I get that you don’t do the friend thing. I’ve never been that great at it myself. But I know you’re an honorable man. I know you’re not the mole.”

  “You certainly should,” Darcy said bluntly. “You’ve spent the last few weeks pretending to be my friend in order to investigate me.”

  “I wanted to clear you.”

  Darcy shook his head. “This was a bad idea. Forget I called.” He started toward the Land Rover.

  Sara caught his arm, her grip strong, stilling his movement. He looked down at her, irritated but also a little intrigued. Most of what he knew about Dennison’s girlfriend had come from her part in a case Dennison had been investigating for The Gates, a twenty-year-old cold case involving Sara’s deceased sister-in-law. Darcy’s knowledge of that particular case was limited to what he’d heard around the office, but the subsequent news reports after the killer was captured had been enough to convince Darcy that Dennison’s new girl was a hell of a lot tougher than she looked. And she looked plenty tough.

  “Cain says you’re in trouble. Let us help.”

  “I’m not in trouble,” Darcy denied.

  “But McKenna Rigsby is.”

  Darcy tried not to react to Dennison’s soft reply. But when he looked up at his fellow agent, outlined in moon glow, understanding gleamed in Dennison’s eyes.

  “The FBI is trying to find you for questioning in her disappearance. They did a check of all the homes and businesses located on or around Killshadow Road, where the missing agent was last seen. Your name showed up, and a background check revealed your connection to her. You were both working at the US Embassy in Kaziristan eight years ago.”

  “So?”

  “She’s with you, isn’t she?” Sara asked.

  He looked at her, not answering.

  “The FBI thinks she’s gone rogue,” Dennison said. “Ignored an order to come in from an undercover assignment. She fired shots at some hunters in the woods, unprovoked—”

  Darcy arched an eyebrow at Dennison.

  “I am aware that the hunters were probably militia members,” Dennison added quietly. “And that she’s the one being hunted.”

  Darcy looked away.

  “Quinn knows something is up, but he’s not talking. Not to me, anyway.” Dennison shrugged. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “I need someone to provide backup,” Darcy said.

  “Backup for what?”

  “I’m trying to flush someone into the open.”

  “The real rogue in the FBI?” Sara asked.

  Darcy didn’t answer. He supposed Dennison and his girlfriend would find his silence answer enough.

  “What do you need?” Dennison asked finally. “How much backup?”

  “I need at least six people who can handle themselves in a fight.”

  “Do you plan to tell them more about what’s going on than you’ve told us?” Sara’s voice was tinged with doubt.

  “I don’t know,” Darcy admitted. “I have to figure out all of the logistics.”

  “She doesn’t know you’re talking to us, does she?” Sara asked.

  “No.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “I think I can rustle up six people who’ll help you without asking
a lot of questions.” Dennison sighed. “That’s the easy part.”

  “What’s the hard part?” Darcy asked.

  “You get to tell Agent Rigsby you arranged for backup without informing her.” Sara turned and started walking toward the truck.

  “Good luck.” Dennison clapped Darcy on the back and followed Sara to the truck.

  Darcy watched them leave before he climbed into the Land Rover and settled behind the steering wheel. Dennison and his girlfriend were right. He should have told McKenna what he was going to do.

  Except he knew she wouldn’t have agreed. Her current supply of trust was severely limited. There was no way she’d have agreed to bringing strangers into their plans. And now her trust in him was going to take one hell of a hit when he confessed what he’d done.

  He still wouldn’t change it. He’d done what he’d had to do.

  But at what cost?

  * * *

  THE HOUR HAND of her watch clicked over. Ten o’clock. And still no Darcy. At first she’d been worried. Then angry.

  Now she was worried again.

  She’d tried to go back to sleep, reasoning that she could use the rest, and sleep would make time pass more quickly. But her nerves were too frayed for her to relax, and every time she closed her eyes in the dark motel room, a dozen different scenarios played out in her mind, dangers that she knew all too well were more than just her imagination at work.

  There were people out there who wanted her dead. And if they’d connected Darcy to her the way Quinn said they had—

  Car beams flashed through the motel-room curtains, painting arcs of light across the walls before the darkness swallowed the room again. She heard the growl of an engine die away in the night, followed a couple of minutes later by the sound of footsteps walking down the breezeway outside the room.

  She sat up quickly, reaching for her Glock. It might be Darcy coming back. But considering how long he’d been gone, it could easily be someone else altogether.

  There was a rattle of the doorknob. The swish of a card in the door lock. The door opened a few inches and Darcy’s voice came through the narrow space. “Rigsby, it’s me. I’m alone.”

  She didn’t lower the pistol. But her heart leaped at the sound of his voice.

  He entered slowly, sliding through the narrow doorway and shutting the door behind him. Only then did he flick the switch, turning on the overhead light.

  McKenna checked him over quickly with her gaze, cataloging intact sets of limbs, the correct number of fingers, no signs of blood or injury. Relief set in, quickly eclipsed by anger, and she put the Glock down and crossed the room in four angry strides. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “You know I went to get gas in the Land Rover.”

  “Hours ago.”

  “Large tank,” he said, his tone infuriatingly dry.

  “That’s not funny.” She thumped his chest with her hand.

  He trapped her hand in place. “I didn’t know the phone number for this room or I’d have called. I should have written it down.”

  “You could have called the front desk and had them patch you through.” She wanted to stay furious at him, but his thumb was doing things to the back of her hand that made her want to curl up like a kitten and purr.

  “We’re trying to maintain a low profile,” he reminded her, his head dipping until she could feel his breath against her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Where were you?” She tried to sound demanding, but her question came out on a plaintive sigh.

  “Let’s sit down.” He led her to the bed and sat her down, crouching in front of her.

  She didn’t like the serious, troubled look in his dark eyes. “Has something happened?”

  “Not yet,” he answered, taking both of her hands in his. “But something’s going to happen as soon as we figure out our plan of action.”

  “What’s that?” She sounded breathless, even to her own ears.

  “We’re going to have backup.”

  A cold sensation swamped her with shocking suddenness. A soft buzzing sound rang in her ears. “We’re going to have what?”

  “I met with Cain Dennison. I told him we need backup for our plan.”

  She had to be dreaming still. It would explain the sudden, shivery feeling of unreality assaulting her with a vengeance, turning her limbs to liquid and making her heart thump with dread. “No. You wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t go behind my back and set me up that way.”

  “I didn’t set you up—”

  She pulled her hands away from his, her fingers tingling. “Darcy, I told you no. I told you I wanted to handle this my way. Without bringing other people into it. My God, you told Dennison I was with you?”

  Darcy pushed to his feet, sliding his hands through his crisp, dark hair. “He already knew. He’s not stupid. The FBI has already connected you to me—you think Dennison didn’t connect us, too? He saw me at Bragg’s cabin. He knows I wasn’t playing caretaker for Bragg—one phone call to your cousin’s fiancé would have blown that story to pieces.”

  “That’s not the same thing as you seeking him out behind my back and confirming it to him.” She couldn’t sit still, her legs suddenly jittering with nervous energy. “Darcy, your company has a mole working inside it. It’s not you, but for all you know, it could be any other person who works there.”

  “At least you don’t think it’s me,” he murmured, his gaze following her as she paced back and forth beside him. “Small favors.”

  She stopped in front of him. “Do you think that’s funny?”

  “I think we’re outgunned, outnumbered and, if we don’t improve our chances against the people gunning for you, we’ll be outsmarted, as well.”

  “It’s not your decision to make!”

  “If I’m putting my life on the line for you, it damned well is!”

  “Not without consulting me!”

  “Would you have agreed to it?”

  “No.”

  “Then what was the point of consulting you?”

  She stared at him. He did not just say that. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t think we can do this without backup. It would be foolhardy. Insane. Even if the plan works—even if you flush out the FBI’s turncoat—what guarantee do we have that he’s come alone? If he’s in bed with the Blue Ridge Infantry, isn’t it far more likely that he’d bring a crew with him to make sure his mess gets mopped up thoroughly?”

  “We’ll have advance notice.”

  “So we’ll see our deaths coming.”

  “Damn it, Darcy!” She felt gutted, she realized. Upended, as if he’d jerked the floor from beneath her feet and sent her into free fall.

  She sank to the edge of the bed, feeling sick.

  “I know you’re angry at me,” he said quietly, reaching for her hand.

  She jerked it away. “Don’t try to handle me.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides.

  “You had no right to do this without talking to me,” she growled, trying hard not to let the tears beating at the backs of her eyes spill over. “Do you realize the danger you’ve put me in?”

  “You were already in danger. I’m trying to get you free of it.”

  She made herself look at him, even though the sight of him right now made her want to punch him right in that beautiful mouth. “I came to you for help because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I should have remembered what you’re like.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What I’m like?”

  “Protocol says to procure backup, so that’s what you do.” Her voice was flint-hard. Good. She felt like stone inside. “You never even stopped to consider I might have my own ideas about how to protect myself, did you? Of course you didn’t. You’re the big bad security con
sultant. The man. Right?”

  “This is not a man-woman issue.”

  “You’re very right about that,” she said coolly. “There’s no man-woman anything about you and me. Not now.”

  His eyes closed for a moment. “McKenna.”

  “I think we function better when you remember that I’m Special Agent Rigsby with the FBI. Under suspicion or not, I do know what I’m doing. I don’t need some civilian rent-a-cop telling me how to do my job.”

  His eyes snapped open, blazing back at her. “That was beneath you, Agent Rigsby.”

  “Do you think I haven’t considered the idea that we could use backup? I have. The FBI may have painted me as a rogue agent, but I’m not one. I do know the protocols and the reasons they exist. I just can’t depend on them under these circumstances. I don’t know whom to trust.” She leveled her gaze with his, making sure he was looking at her. “Maybe I would have been better off trusting no one at all.”

  “I don’t deserve that.” His voice was low and tight.

  “Maybe you don’t,” she conceded. “But I can’t take any chances.”

  He stepped backward, settling with his hips against the edge of the dresser, and fell silent.

  She was tempted to walk out of the motel room and leave him behind for good. But she’d just made a big deal about not being stupid. It would hardly bolster her case to do something so monumentally dumb.

  “I can call it off,” he said a few minutes of silence later.

  “It’s too late.”

  “I trust Dennison,” he added.

  “But I don’t even know him.”

  “You know me.” Darcy pushed away from the dresser and crouched in front of her again, closing his hands over her elbows, holding her in place as he pinned her with his gaze. “You know me, Rigsby. You do. I’m the same man I’ve always been. And if there’s anything in this world you should know about me, it’s that I would never let anyone or anything hurt you if it’s within my power. You have to know that about me.”

  She did know it. She might be angry now, might feel overturned and out of control, but she knew Darcy would put his life on the line for her, just as she would for him.