Cody Walker's Woman

by Amelia Autin

  “You’ve been with her three years. Isn’t that what she said yesterday?” Cody asked in a casual tone he was far from feeling.

  “Yeah. We’ve closed some tough cases together. I’ve never had a better partner, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  Cody glanced in the rearview mirror, noting the lights of the SUV that had been following him at a safe distance for the past half hour, ever since he’d pulled onto the highway. There were no other vehicle lights in sight, so he knew they weren’t being tailed—covert tailing at night on a long, lonesome stretch of highway was nearly impossible.

  “What can you tell me about her? As a special agent,” he added quickly, not wanting to reveal his personal interest in Keira to the other man.

  McKinnon shifted positions, adjusting the jacket behind his shoulders and settling back against the door again. “She’s got a knack for figuring things out that has come in handy more than once. I’ve never known anyone better at putting a few pieces together that don’t seem to fit and solving a riddle that has everyone else stumped. Except D’Arcy, of course. Nobody can touch him.”

  “I know what you mean.” He was quiet for a moment, then asked diffidently, “What else can you tell me about Keira?”

  Cody could feel the other man’s eyes on him in the darkness. That was a mistake, he acknowledged. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. He wanted to know more about Keira, about what made her tick. Who better to ask than her partner?

  “She’s twenty-nine, served two tours of duty overseas—she was in the Corps, just like you and me—military police. Then she came back to the States and got a degree in criminal psychology. She joined the agency right after college, three years ago,” McKinnon rattled off.

  Then he added, “She comes from a large family—four brothers, all older, all former marines, too. Maybe that’s why she has a thing about wanting to do her job as well as, or better than, a man could. Maybe that’s why she jumps at every chance for a field assignment, even though her strength is research and analysis. And I know that’s why it galls her, what happened last week.”

  McKinnon’s not stupid, Cody thought. He knows I’m interested—he wouldn’t be sharing personal information about Keira otherwise. And he suspects I know something.

  “You keep referring to something that happened last week. What’s that about?” he asked, lying through his teeth.

  “If you don’t know, it’s not my place to tell you,” McKinnon replied. “Keira can tell you if she thinks it’s important. But it won’t interfere with her job performance. That much I can tell you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I just have one more thing to say, and then I’ll keep my thoughts to myself,” McKinnon said slowly, and Cody stiffened at the tone in the other man’s voice. “I’m curious—how did you get those scratches on your cheek?”

  Cody had no answer.

  * * *

  Shortly after eight Friday morning, Cody drove the pickup truck toward a dead-end clearing at the end of a winding muddy road that still had traces of snow in the ruts even though it was nearly the end of May. Then he braked so abruptly the SUV following him almost rear-ended the truck—another vehicle was already reverse-parked in the clearing, a large four-by-four.

  “Wait here,” he told McKinnon softly and saw the other man reach for his SIG SAUER. Cody drew his own gun. He left the engine running and got out, signaling to Keira to stay in the SUV with his left hand.

  Eyes flicking left and right, Cody approached the abandoned vehicle with caution. A quick glance inside at the two car seats in the middle row told him everything he needed to know, and he relaxed his guard a fraction. Callahan’s here already, he realized. Who else could it be? Who else knows where this cabin is located?

  He sheathed his Glock and quickly returned to the truck. “Callahan’s here,” he told McKinnon briefly. “Let Keira know, will you?” If you can get cell-phone reception in these mountains, he thought but didn’t say. If they couldn’t, they had other communication equipment in the back of the truck they could substitute, but it wouldn’t be as convenient.

  McKinnon tapped a button on his Bluetooth earphone and relayed the message to his partner as Cody shifted into gear and drove the truck forward, then reverse-parked it next to the four-by-four, just in case they needed to make a fast exit. The air had an early-morning mountain chill as both men got out and were joined by Keira, who had parked the same way and was now shrugging into her warm jacket, although she didn’t zip it up.

  “You were right,” McKinnon admitted. “I don’t think the GPS could have found this place.”

  “And we’re not even at the cabin yet,” Cody confirmed. “It’s about fifty yards in that direction,” he said, pointing. “But the fact that Callahan’s four-by-four is here already isn’t a good sign. One of us had better stay with the gear while we reconnoiter.” He started to give Keira the assignment, but instantly thought better of it. “You stand guard, McKinnon,” he said. “Keira, come with me.”

  Cody led the way along the rough path he could have followed blindfolded. He used to come here often when he lived and worked in Black Rock, but his visits had been sporadic ever since he’d moved away. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to sell his cabin, especially after the economy took a downturn and the real-estate market headed south with it. Damn good thing I didn’t sell after all, he told himself. It was a bolt-hole for Mandy and Callahan six years ago, and it looks as if it’s being used for the same thing again.

  The path narrowed in a couple of places, so they were forced to walk single file, but eventually it widened, then opened into a clearing, and Cody’s split-log cabin suddenly came into view. Snow still clung to the roof, and patches of snow were scattered around the clearing. There were footprints in the snow leading up to the front porch, too, none of them fresh.

  Cody stopped and put a hand on Keira’s arm. “Hang tight,” he said. Then he called out, “Callahan!” He waited a few seconds, but there was no response from the cabin, so he called again. “Callahan!”

  “Right behind you,” said a soft, deep voice.

  * * *

  Cody and Keira whirled. Keira’s Glock was in her hand before she realized she’d drawn her weapon; she had only a split second to notice that Cody hadn’t drawn his. And only a fraction of a second later Cody’s left hand came down on her gun hand, making sure she didn’t shoot the tall, dark man confronting them with a Smith & Wesson semiautomatic.

  Then she realized the semiautomatic wasn’t aimed at them, and Cody was holding out his hand to the other man. When Cody said, “Callahan,” Keira slowly holstered her own weapon, but kept a watchful eye on the other man’s gun until he sheathed it in his shoulder holster.

  “Walker.” The two men shook hands before Callahan turned his eyes to Keira, his brows raised enquiringly.

  “Special Agent Keira Jones—Ryan Callahan, sheriff of Black Rock. Among other things.”

  Callahan shook her hand and glanced back at Cody, a look of approval in his eyes. “She’s quick, but not reckless” was all he said, but Keira knew she’d passed some kind of internal test on Callahan’s part.

  In an undertone she told Cody, “That’s dried blood,” nodding in the direction of the dark splotch on Callahan’s shirt.

  “Yeah,” Callahan said. “And the body it came from is lying in my bed at home.” Cody raised one eyebrow in a question that Callahan answered with a slight shake of his head before adding, “Our nearest neighbor—he lived about a half mile away. He showed up at our door late last night, already bleeding out. He was dead before Mandy and I could do anything to save him.” Keira had never heard a colder, harder voice, and Callahan’s face matched his voice. “That’s why we’re here.”

  Keira assessed the man in front of her in a way that was second nature to her now. He was older than Cody—somewhere in his mid-forties, she estimated, although it wasn’t always easy to judge ages with men, especially this man. He was tall, too, just a shade sho
rter than the man beside her. He was as dark as Cody was fair, and there was an alert, wary watchfulness in his tawny eyes that told her he took no risks where he hadn’t already calculated the odds. And while many men his age had started to let themselves go physically, he was as lean and muscled as Cody was—a memory flash of Cody’s lean, muscular frame holding her prisoner the night they’d met made her heart skip a beat.

  Callahan looked to be a formidable ally, but looks could be deceiving. And was he as impressive as Cody had already proven himself to be? Keira couldn’t be sure until she saw him in action. She knew from firsthand experience that Cody was incredibly strong, but he was also quick off the mark, with courage to spare. He’d already risked his life for her once, and—

  “Where’s McKinnon?” Callahan asked, interrupting Keira’s memories of that night a week ago.

  “Guarding our escape route,” Cody replied. “I figured that was your four-by-four, but I didn’t want to take any chances, especially not with the gear we brought with us.”

  One corner of Callahan’s mouth twitched into a grin. “You know, Walker, for an amateur you’re not half-bad.” His tone and words were deliberate provocation, but Keira realized Cody wasn’t responding to it. He merely grinned back, the unexpected smile slashing across his face the way she remembered it doing once before.

  Callahan was speaking again, and Keira took herself sternly to task. Stop thinking about Cody and focus on why we’re here.

  “Mandy and our kids are in the cabin,” he was saying. “She’ll be relieved to see you—she’s been terrified ever since last night that something will happen I can’t handle on my own.” Keira was quick to note the way his voice softened when he mentioned his wife and children. “There’s coffee already made. Why don’t you go in and let Mandy know you’re here while I help McKinnon unload the truck?”

  Cody glanced at Keira. She read his unspoken message and turned away to call McKinnon on her Bluetooth earphone, relaying the news that Callahan was on his way there. Then she followed Cody through the muddy, semifrozen clearing toward the cabin. As they picked their way carefully, avoiding the worst of the mud, Keira asked, “Want to tell me what that was about?”

  “What?”

  “That remark about amateurs. He knows you work for the agency, so I don’t get it.”

  “Long story. I’ll tell you sometime.” He smiled at her as they mounted the porch steps. He reached for the front door and opened it without knocking.

  “Cody!” One of the most serenely beautiful women Keira had ever seen raised a relieved and thankful face from the baby nursing at her breast to greet them as they entered the one-room cabin. The woman slid something beneath her thigh before adding, “Thank God you’re here.”

  Keira felt an unexpected wave of...not envy, exactly. More like wistfulness. Not for the other woman’s classic features and all-American blonde beauty, but for the expression Keira caught on Cody’s face before he controlled it and dropped a quick kiss on the top of the other woman’s blond head. No man ever looked at you that way, a little voice said inside her head. It hurt. And that surprised her. She’d chosen her life deliberately, so it made no sense for her to now long for other things. Soft things. Man-woman things.

  Mandy had a small towel draped modestly over her breast as she nursed, and it puzzled Keira until she saw the two other children still asleep on the double bed behind her. Boys, both of them, with hair as blond as Mandy’s. That must be why she’s covered up—in case the boys wake up. The pink-and-yellow outfit on the dark-haired baby in Mandy’s arms was a dead giveaway the baby was a little girl.

  Keira could no more help assembling random bits of data into a clear picture than she could help breathing. Three children in six years, she thought, remembering what Cody had told her about Mandy and Ryan Callahan. That’s some serious commitment between them. She wondered why the knowledge lightened her mood immeasurably.

  Mandy smiled a welcome at Keira before glancing inquiringly up at Cody, who quickly introduced them. Then she adjusted the towel and deftly switched the baby to her other breast. “Sorry about this.” She indicated the nursing baby and gave Cody and Keira a rueful look that held only a trace of embarrassment. “I’ve been trying to wean Abby, but we left in such a rush last night I didn’t have time to pack any formula or baby food.” Her face turned troubled. “Did Ryan tell you what happened?”

  “Not all of it—not yet—but enough.” He moved away from Mandy’s side and headed to the kitchen area to pour himself a cup of coffee, and Keira was unaccountably glad.

  “He didn’t tell me until last night, after Steve—” She caught her breath, but went on. “We were already on the way here before he told me he called you.” Her blue eyes darkened. “I gave him hell for keeping this thing a secret from me, after he promised...” She stopped, a hurt expression on her face, and then started again. “Don’t be like him,” she begged Cody. “He can’t help being who he is—it’s the way he’s made. But you’re not like him. Don’t keep me in the dark. Not this time.”

  Cody swallowed coffee from the mug in his left hand and grimaced, and Keira wasn’t sure if it was in response to the coffee or Mandy’s statement. Then his right hand briefly touched his left shoulder, and Keira remembered Cody referring to a bullet hole, Mandy and a lack of trust. Mandy had shot Cody, and she knew it hadn’t been an accident. She only knew what Trace had told her—that Cody and Mandy had been best friends growing up, but that she’d shot him the night David Pennington had been killed, thinking she was protecting Callahan. But there was more to the story. A hell of a lot more. Keira was sure of it.

  Chapter 6

  The thud of boots on the front porch warned them all, and as Cody reached for his gun, he saw Keira doing the same. When Callahan walked in the front door followed by McKinnon, Cody relaxed and dropped his hand. He quickly downed the rest of his coffee and glanced at the pot on the stove, unsure whether he wanted another cup or not.

  The two men stacked the loads they were carrying on and beneath the kitchen table beside him, then turned around and headed back the way they’d come. “One more trip should do it,” Callahan told Cody laconically as they passed him, “if you help.”

  Cody chuckled silently to himself as he followed Callahan out. As clearly as if Nick D’Arcy was standing beside him, he could hear him saying, Callahan was running the show six years ago, but this is your case now. The extent of his involvement is at your discretion.

  At some point he was going to have to draw the other man aside and let him know—privately—how things stood. But not in front of witnesses. He owed Callahan that much. Callahan had saved his life after Mandy had shot him, even though he’d known by then that Cody had once slept with her.

  She hadn’t been Callahan’s wife at the time, but Cody knew that hadn’t made it any easier for the other man to accept...or forgive. Saving Cody’s life despite that said a lot about Callahan’s integrity. Or maybe by then he’d already known he had nothing to fear from Cody where Mandy was concerned.

  Cody acknowledged there was probably more than a hint of truth in that assessment. Mandy had never loved him and never would. He’d known it even when he’d made love to her all those years ago that New Year’s Day. But desperate men do desperate things, he reminded himself.

  For just a moment his thoughts turned to Keira, wondering what it would be like with her. She was so different from Mandy in so many ways. He remembered the feel of her body pressed up against his that first night. Strength. Determination. A fierce will. No, she wouldn’t make it easy for a man to take what she wouldn’t willingly give, but...if she gave willingly, a man would know he was something special.

  He breathed deeply as he followed Callahan and McKinnon through the woods, taking the crisp, clean air deep into his lungs, feeling the stillness of the mountainside soak into him. Even as part of him turned inward, another part of him was alert and watchful, looking to the left and right automatically, and occasionally checking behind
him. He really didn’t think they had anything to fear, not here. But nothing was certain, not where the New World Militia was concerned.

  * * *

  Michael Vishenko’s office phone rang, and he picked it up automatically. “Yes?”

  “We have a slight problem,” the voice at the other end said.

  “I see,” he said. “Thank you for calling.” He hung up and limped to the door of his office, closing it firmly. Back at his desk he pulled a cell phone from his center drawer, waited five minutes, then dialed a number. When the call was answered, he said, “What is the problem?”

  “There was a small leak.”

  “How small?”

  “Minor. And it has been contained.”

  “Collateral damage?”

  “Minimal.”

  “Still on goal?”

  “Yes.”

  Vishenko breathed deeply. “Thank you for calling,” he said and hung up. He stared at the cell phone in his hand for a minute, decoding the code words the caller had used. It was worrisome, but the caller had reassured him they were still on target. That was the most important thing.

  * * *

  In the cabin Keira watched Mandy in silence. When the other woman finished nursing her baby, she averted her gaze, giving Mandy a little privacy to adjust her clothing back to normal. Then, for something to say, she asked, “What are your boys’ names?”

  Mandy placed the towel over her shoulder, lifted Abby onto it and began burping her. “Reilly,” she said softly, casting a backward glance at the two boys still sleeping on the bed behind her. “He’s five. Little Ryan is three.” She chuckled softly. “I have to stop calling him little Ryan. Even though they have my hair color, they both take after their father in just about every other way.”

  “Reilly?” Keira asked, remembering what Cody had said. “Wasn’t that your husband’s alias, Reilly O’Neill?”

  Mandy’s smile faded. “One of them,” she replied, and there was an expression on her face that told Keira this wasn’t a subject to pursue.