for me? If they’re in the building, I need to see them right away.”
“McKinnon?” Cody asked after D’Arcy cut off the connection. “That wouldn’t be Trace McKinnon, would it?”
“Yeah. You remember him from six years ago, don’t you? I’ve got a feeling he’s the third man Callahan was referring to, the other man he trusts.”
“I remember him, but I thought he was still a federal marshal. I didn’t know he worked for the agency.”
D’Arcy let out a bark of laughter. “Compartmentalization. I guess it does work sometimes.” He looked at Cody from under his brows. “McKinnon was the first person I recruited after I was recruited. He’d worked for me for years before I came here—I’d trust him with my life. I knew he’d be perfect for this agency, just like I knew you would be, too.”
The corner of Cody’s mouth curved up in a rueful smile. “Not so perfect—on my part, that is. Last week—”
D’Arcy waved his hand. “I already told you to forget last week, didn’t I?” He hesitated. “I wasn’t going to tell you until all the paperwork was processed, but there will be a commendation in your personnel jacket if I have anything to say about it.”
That means it’s a done deal, Cody thought, knowing how highly respected Nick D’Arcy was by the head of their agency in Washington, D.C. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He thought for a second, then confessed, “I couldn’t have done anything else, but...I’m glad it won’t be a mark against me.”
“Not to worry.”
Then Cody remembered the other thing D’Arcy had said, and he asked, “Rumblings? You said you’ve heard rumblings about the New World Militia?”
D’Arcy grimaced. “The FBI has been keeping a watchful eye on certain individuals for years,” he said. “But even after all this time since 9/11, we still don’t have the interagency cooperation we should have. They don’t tell us everything they know, and we’re not much better.”
“But if they aren’t telling you what they know...”
“I have my own sources within the FBI...and a few other places” was all D’Arcy would say.
The phone buzzed, and D’Arcy pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“McKinnon and Jones are here, sir.”
“Send them in.”
Cody stood up as the door opened and Trace McKinnon walked in. Cody recognized him immediately, even though it had been almost five years since he’d last seen him. Along with Callahan, Cody owed his life to this man, who’d given him first aid before the medevac chopper had airlifted him to the hospital in Sheridan. He had thanked McKinnon afterward, but except for seeing him at the trials that followed the arrests of the upper echelons of the New World Militia, their paths hadn’t crossed until now.
Cody started forward, his hand outstretched. “Good to see you, McKinnon,” he said. Then he stopped as abruptly as if he’d been shot. Following McKinnon into the room was the woman with the mop of red-gold curls no comb could tame. The woman he’d blown his assignment to rescue. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind.
Keira.
“Special Agent Keira Jones,” Nick D’Arcy was saying. “I think you know Special Agent Cody Walker, don’t you?”
Keira held out her hand to Cody. “Good to see you again” was all she said as she shook his hand.
“Same here,” Cody told her.
Cody threw a sideways questioning glance at D’Arcy, which Keira caught, but he didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her partner stiffen and his eyes narrow, and she knew she’d made a mistake admitting she knew Cody. She wondered if Trace was making the connection.
She’d told him the bare bones about her kidnapping and near-miraculous escape, but hadn’t given any specifics. And she hadn’t told him the name of her rescuer for a very good reason—she’d recognized Cody’s name as soon as he said it, had known he worked for the same agency as she did, and had hoped and prayed the story wouldn’t make the rounds of the office.
It was hard enough even now for a woman to make a career in a job that had traditionally been a man’s world, especially within the agency; she didn’t want to become the butt of office laughter over allowing herself to be kidnapped in that fashion and needing to be rescued by a fellow agent. A male agent.
She hadn’t recognized him that night. She and Cody had never met before; they didn’t work in the same division and their case loads hadn’t overlapped. But she’d heard the name Cody Walker when he’d received an agency commendation the year before, and Cody was an unusual name. When they’d made it to his car, breathless and panting after running through the night, he’d introduced himself almost as an afterthought.
She’d known then who he was, but she’d only told him her name was Keira. The Jones part would probably have been safe enough, but...she didn’t want to risk it.
They’d driven in silence for a few minutes before she’d even thought to say thanks. That was when he’d apologized for manhandling her, and she’d apologized for scratching him. But when he’d tried to take her to the hospital, she’d adamantly refused. The same for going to the police.
She’d asked him to drop her at her car instead, and he’d reluctantly agreed. When they’d reached her car, he’d insisted on finishing changing the tire for her and then had followed her all the way to I-70 to make sure she got back safely on the road to Denver.
She’d reported the incident, of course. Even though she hadn’t been working when she’d been kidnapped, once she’d made the connection between her rescuer and a fellow agent, she’d realized he had probably been on an undercover operation himself. If so, his cover had been blown, and she owed it to him to make sure he didn’t suffer any disagreeable consequences as a result.
But she hadn’t reported it up the chain of command. She couldn’t bring herself to do that; it would have been too humiliating. Instead, she’d made an appointment to see Baker Street himself—Nick D’Arcy—first thing Monday morning and had confessed everything. While McKinnon and Walker exchanged a few words, her thoughts winged back to that stark interview.
* * *
D’Arcy listened in silence until she was done, then asked a few questions. She tried to keep emotion out of her responses, as if she were merely an agent reporting to a superior officer regarding an assignment.
“You weren’t raped? You can tell me the truth.”
She flinched but answered him honestly. “No, sir. But I would have been, probably killed, too, if not for Walker.”
“You didn’t lose your service weapon?”
“No, sir. I wasn’t carrying it. I was on mandatory use-it-or-lose-it vacation.”
“What were you doing out there?”
“My
