by Amelia Autin
And she had failed to protect him. That was the bottom line for her. The man she loved had been in danger, and she’d let him walk out of her bedroom without a second thought for his safety. All she’d cared about was keeping him with her, not because it was dangerous for him otherwise, but because she selfishly wanted to fall asleep in his arms. And when he said he couldn’t stay, she hadn’t argued, she’d just let him go.
Turn the key, step on the gas and boom.
If Cody had died tonight, how could she live with that knowledge?
Mandy suddenly came to mind. Mandy, who had witnessed the explosion she thought had taken the life of the man she loved, the father of her unborn child. Mandy, who had attempted suicide when she lost both the man she loved and the child he’d given her—her last link to him. Mandy, who had shot Cody, thinking she was saving Callahan’s life.
When Cody had told her those stories, Keira had sympathized, but she hadn’t empathized. Now it was different. Now she understood, really understood.
Keira shuddered again, but this time it wasn’t because she could have lost Cody so soon after finding him. No, this time was because she acknowledged a primitive part of her was desperately praying she’d conceived his child tonight.
Psychologically she understood. Faced with the threat of sudden death, the human response was to cling to life. Not just for oneself—for the next generation, as well. But that didn’t explain her desire for Cody’s child. Not entirely. She wanted to be the one to give him the immortality only his child could give him. She wanted it for herself, too.
That’s not just old-school. It’s archaic, she told herself sternly. But she couldn’t deny it. She wanted Cody’s child with an intensity that shocked her. And she wanted that part of him to love and cherish, if...
“No,” she whispered, her face hardening, and this time her right fist clenched with purpose. Then her hand slid inside her jacket to touch the comforting stock of her gun in its leather holster. Nothing was going to happen to Cody. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him. No matter what she had to do.
* * *
Early the next morning Keira drove Cody to his apartment so he could shave, shower and change after sleeping fully clothed on her sofa the night before. Sabbatino and Moran followed close behind them. Sabbatino went upstairs with Cody, while Moran waited with Keira.
She was grateful Moran didn’t say anything, just leaned against the outside of her car, his eyes on the alert, his head constantly pivoting. She wondered whether he and Sabbatino were thinking...well, thinking the truth. She’d tried not to show anything of her feelings for Cody in front of them, either last night or this morning. But still...if she were in their shoes...she knew it wouldn’t take much imagination to figure out what Cody had been doing at her condo.
She’d told Cody the truth last night when she’d said she wasn’t ashamed of loving him. She wasn’t. And she didn’t think she was ashamed of being a woman. That wasn’t it. But he still didn’t understand. She wished she could explain to him she’d fought all her life for respect—first from her father and her four brothers, then from her fellow Marines in the Corps, and now in the agency. That’s all she wanted. Respect.
She smiled ruefully as she heard Aretha Franklin singing in her head. The smile faded. Aretha had first sung that song in 1967, long before Keira was born, and things hadn’t changed all that much in the years since, not in Keira’s line of work. But could she make Cody understand?
Keira had finally earned her father’s grudging respect after she’d joined the Corps, but she hadn’t had much time to bask in it because he’d died during her first tour of duty overseas. She remembered flying back for the funeral, standing by his coffin with her weeping mother, holding back her own tears because she knew her father would have condemned her tears as a weakness. He would have lost respect for her if she’d cried, so she hadn’t. Not at the funeral. Not even in the privacy of her old bedroom at home.
And then there were her brothers. She loved them and they loved her, but she had always been their baby sister. She’d always been so much smaller than they were, and not just because they were all older. She’d gained their respect, too, when she’d followed them into the Corps. Her job with the agency was also a badge of respect in their eyes. Even though her brothers had jobs that took them all over the world and she seldom saw them, they were still family, and their opinion of her still mattered.
Respect from the important men in her life—was it wrong to want it? Need it?
Her partner respected her, she knew that. He hadn’t at first, not until she’d proven herself to him by taking down a cold-blooded killer who’d had Trace in his sights. Now Trace trusted her as well as respected her. Would he feel the same if he knew she’d become involved with a fellow agent? Or would he see her as weak?
And what did D’Arcy think of her now? She’d hated being forced to confess the story of her kidnapping and subsequent rescue by Cody to him, although she’d felt she had no choice at the time. But now that D’Arcy also knew—well, she wasn’t quite sure exactly what he knew, but she could hazard a guess—would he still say she was an excellent agent? Would he still say those words she’d treasured, that he didn’t want to lose her? Or would he lose all respect for her as an agent now?
And there was Cody himself. More than anything, she yearned for his respect. Oh, yes, she wanted his love, needed his love. And now that she’d slept with him, she wanted that, too, wanted those incredibly passionate feelings only he could arouse in her body—and only he could assuage. But if she had to choose one thing, she would choose his respect and sacrifice the rest.
Could she make him understand?
Moran straightened just then, and Keira looked up. Cody and a watchful Sabbatino were walking toward her car. Cody didn’t say anything to her when he got in and buckled his seat belt, just told Sabbatino, “Thanks. We’ll see you at the agency.”
Keira started the engine and waited for the other two agents to get into their car, then signaled and pulled out into traffic, Sabbatino and Moran right behind her. They drove in silence for a few minutes before curiosity got the better of her. “Did Sabbatino say anything to you?”
Cody glanced at her. “Yeah. He said, ‘Nice view.’ My apartment’s on the top floor and faces the Rockies.”
Keira knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help it. “He didn’t say anything else? Anything about...us...being together last night?”
He gave her a level look. “Nope. All he said was, ‘Nice view.’ Why? Did Moran say something to you?”
She shook her head. “Not a single word the whole time.” But she wouldn’t look at Cody, just focused on the traffic.
“So, why do you ask?” he said softly. “Whatever they’re thinking, why do you care?”
“Because...” She didn’t have an answer for him, not one she could put into words.
“You told me last night you weren’t ashamed of loving me.”
She darted a glance at him. “I’m not.”
“Sure seems like you are.” There was an edge to his voice.
“It’s not that,” she said quickly, and when she stole a peek at him, she saw his jaw was set and there was an expression on his face that gave her a pang to see. Almost as if she’d hurt him if she admitted...
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t want them to lose respect for me,” she said in a low tone.
He was silent for a moment. “Is that what this is all about? Respect?”
Keira nodded. “It’s different for men. A man doesn’t lose respect for another man because he sleeps with a woman. But a woman...especially an agent...” She couldn’t finish, but she didn’t have to.
“In other words, the double standard is alive and well...in your mind.”
“Not just in my mind,” she defended hotly. “It’s still the way things are, even after all these years—don’t deny it.”
Cody didn’t say anything, and Keira knew he was consider
ing her statement. After a while he sighed and said, “Maybe you’re right. I don’t like admitting it, but...”
Keira saw the agency’s fenced parking lot ahead of her and signaled a turn. Then she fished in her purse for her ID badge and saw Cody take his out of his pocket and clip it to his jacket’s lapel. They both flashed their badges to the guard on the gate, who waved them on through and wished them a nice day. The car containing Sabbatino and Moran was right behind them.
All four of them badged into the building, one after another—“tailgating” wasn’t allowed. Not only did the agency want to restrict access to those who had the electronic ID badges, they also kept track electronically of who was in the building when, so employees had to badge out to exit, as well as badge in to enter.
“Might as well go right up,” Cody said, once all four of them had passed muster with the security guards in the lobby. Sabbatino and Moran rode up with them, then delivered them to D’Arcy’s outer office.
Baker Street’s executive assistant told Cody and Keira, “He’s waiting for you.”
Sabbatino and Moran took seats, prepared to wait as long as it took. Cody knocked once, then opened the door to the inner office and ushered Keira through.
“Walker. Jones. Good to see both of you...alive,” D’Arcy said. He was sitting at his desk, and he waved them over. “I just finished reading the explosives team’s report on your truck,” he told Cody. “Nothing new there beyond what you told me on the phone last night. But there’s been another development.” There was a grim set to his mouth as he handed copies of another report to both of them.
Keira skimmed through her copy. “Oh, my God,” she said. She glanced over at Cody, who had read his copy just as quickly, and was looking at her with a disturbed expression on his face.
They both turned to face D’Arcy when he said, “The FBI has already sent an official inquiry through channels requesting whatever information we have on this.”
“But we don’t have any, sir,” Keira said faintly.
“No, not directly, but you can’t tell me there isn’t a connection between this and Walker’s truck last night.” He looked from Keira to Cody. “In case you don’t remember, Brockway and DeSantini were—”
“The lead prosecutors on Pennington’s trial eight years ago,” Cody finished for him. “Yes, sir, I remember.” His face hardened, as did his voice. “Callahan’s in danger. Maybe his family, too.”
“I’ve already dispatched a team to bring him in, along with McKinnon. And another to bring Callahan’s family to Denver. The safe house in Casper is well enough under normal circumstances, but not for this.”
“Callahan won’t trust the team you’ve sent unless I warn him in advance,” Cody said. “You know how careful he is.”
“Then call him,” D’Arcy said. “Now.” He glanced at his watch. “I sent the team by helicopter. They should be there soon.”
Keira watched as Cody drew the cell phone from his pocket and walked to a corner of the room, punching in a number. She looked back at D’Arcy. “What are you going to tell the FBI, sir?” she asked.
“As little as I can,” he said. “I have to tell them about what was found in Walker’s truck—the circumstances are too similar to what happened to Brockway and DeSantini. And there could be an evidentiary tie-in. But I’m not giving them the file you compiled,” he said, pointing to the thick file folder in the center of his desk.
“Sir?”
“Two reasons,” D’Arcy explained. “First, I don’t want them to know this agency has access to their computers. Second, if the SAC of the FBI’s New York Field Office Criminal Division was a member of the militia or on the Russian mob’s payroll before he resigned five years ago, there’s no telling who else in the FBI might be involved. I’m not going to risk it. I’ve already got one agent on the militia’s hit list. I’m not adding your name to it.”
Startled, she said, “I didn’t think of that.”
Cody walked back at that moment, his face grim. “Callahan’s halfway to Casper. McKinnon’s with him. McKinnon called my secure cell—it must have gone to voice mail,” he said, glancing at the phone for confirmation before continuing. “They found explosives rigged in Callahan’s official sheriff’s SUV early this morning, parked right outside his house. They didn’t wait to collect the evidence—you can notify the FBI to do that, sir. Callahan was determined to get to his family as soon as he could.”
“Damn.” The word was softly spoken, and D’Arcy picked up the phone and punched a number. “Get someone to radio the chopper on its way to Black Rock,” he said with cold urgency. “Tell them to divert to our safe house in Casper. Callahan and McKinnon are on their way there.” He listened for a minute. “That’s right. And tell that chopper team Callahan will be expecting them.” He raised his eyebrows inquiringly at Cody, who nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
“Four attempts,” Cody said. “Two dead.”
D’Arcy nodded. “They’re batting .500.”
“No sir,” Keira said swiftly. “They’re batting .333. As far as we know, at least.” When both men looked at her, she reminded them, “There were six names on the list, not four. That’s what Callahan reported Tressler told him.”
“That’s right,” Cody said, snapping his fingers. “Brockway, DeSantini, Callahan and me—that’s four. Who are the other two? They’ve got to be connected to Pennington in some way.”
D’Arcy said, “Those four are easy. Brockway and DeSantini—they put Pennington in jail the first time. Callahan testified against Pennington. He also killed him, with your help,” he told Cody.
“It can’t be Walsh and Brooks,” Cody said. “They’re already dead—no reason for their names to be on a hit list now.”
Something was nudging Keira’s brain, but she couldn’t think what it could be. Something told her she knew whose names should be on that list—she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
Cody was still speaking. “The other two names depend on whose list it is. Since Tressler was in the New World Militia, we’ve assumed the list was related to that, but it doesn’t seem to fit somehow. Callahan—yes. And me. We were both undercover in the militia, and we betrayed the organization. So I see the connection there.”
He paused, as if marshaling his thoughts in order. “But Brockway and DeSantini—that’s more related to David Pennington personally, not to the militia per se. Especially after all this time. If their names were on the list—a reasonable assumption since they were killed in the same way the attempt was made on me—then the list has to be Michael Vishenko’s. Pennington’s son.”
“That’s it,” Keira whispered as everything coalesced in her brain. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Cody glanced at her. “What?”
“You’re right—it’s Vishenko’s list,” she confirmed. “And the other two names on the list have to be Trace’s name...and yours, sir.” She looked D’Arcy straight in the eye.
D’Arcy looked at her sharply. “Why do you say that?”
“Trace told me that after Cody and Callahan killed Pennington, the two of you had to collect all the witness statements and physical evidence relating to his death, and get it ruled a justifiable homicide.”
She looked from D’Arcy to Cody. “Don’t you see? It’s the only logical conclusion. If Vishenko wants revenge for his father, it’s not just the men who put his father in jail, and it’s not just his father’s killers he wants dead. It’s also the men who helped his father’s killers—Callahan and you—get away with...murder.”
Cody’s brows drew together in a frown, and he opened his mouth as if to deny the allegation, but she spoke before he could. “I know it wasn’t murder,” she said. “But you have to look at it from Vishenko’s perspective. In his eyes it was murder, and the men who helped you get off the hook for it are just as responsible.”
She looked at D’Arcy again. “Walker told me Pennington was obsessed with seeing Callahan in hell. I can’t think of anythi
ng more hellish than an agonizing death by fire, and if I were Vishenko looking for revenge...” She took a deep breath. “I think you have to accept that someone will be coming after you, too, sir, the exact same way...if they haven’t already. You and Trace.”
D’Arcy picked up his phone and dialed a number. “I need an explosives team at my house now.” He gave the address. “I suspect something was done to my car similar to what was done to Special Agent Walker’s truck last night, so be extremely careful.” He gave the make and model, and a license plate number. “It’s parked in the driveway. Let me know what you find.”
He put the phone down. He was breathing a little faster than normal, and there was an expression on his face Keira had never seen there. “My car was low on gas when I got home last night,” he explained, “but it was late and I figured I’d fill up on the way to work. Then I got your call last night. My wife is visiting her sister in South Carolina. I knew her car had a full tank, so I drove her car this morning.”
Keira caught her breath. Her first thought was for her partner, and she turned concerned eyes on Cody. But before she said what she was thinking she realized her mistake and she relaxed a little.
“Trace hasn’t been home for two weeks,” she said, “because you assigned him to bird-dog Callahan. His car has been in the secure parking lot here at work all this time, ever since the three of us went to Wyoming. If not for that, I’d bet anything you want to stake you’d find his car rigged to explode, just like your truck.”
“No bet,” Cody said. And there was something in his eyes that told her she’d earned his respect...again.
Chapter 16
“I’m putting you under twenty-four hour guard,” D’Arcy told Walker. “You don’t step outside the agency without security. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. What about—”
D’Arcy cut him off. “I’ll do the same for McKinnon once he gets back. Callahan and his family, too—that goes without saying.”
Cody’s gaze traveled to Keira, then back to D’Arcy. “What about Keira?” he asked.