Cody Walker's Woman. Amelia Autin
didn’t realize...” He reached for her other wrist and pushed the sleeve back before she could stop him, exposing an even uglier bruise. His face contracted as if the sight hurt him.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I bruise easily. You did what you had to do to save me. I don’t blame you. I...” He was brushing his fingers lightly over the bruise, back and forth, as if he could erase it that way, and the touch of his fingers was somehow erotic. She drew her hand away and pulled down the sleeve. “I’d far rather have the bruises than what else might have happened to me.” Her chin tilted up.
There was just a second when she saw something in his eyes—a look of admiration tinged with frank, male appreciation—but it was gone so quickly she thought she must have imagined it.
“Besides,” she added, pointing to the faint scratch marks on his left cheek. “I hurt you, too.”
His hand rose involuntarily, as if he’d forgotten all about the marks she’d left on him. But then she could see him remembering what he’d done to her to make her scratch him so violently, and remorse filled his face.
“Don’t think about that,” Keira said swiftly, and repeated, “You did what you had to do, and—” she made each of her next words a separate sentence for emphasis “—I. Don’t. Blame. You.”
“I didn’t mean to be so...brutal.”
“What you did was nothing compared to what they had in mind,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but...”
“But nothing,” she said firmly. “Forget about it. I have,” she lied.
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her in a way that reminded her of the moment when he’d told her to tie up her shirt that first night, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. That was the worst thing about having the pale skin that accompanied her red hair; any change in coloration was noticeable.
Two people approached the elevator, glancing curiously at Cody and Keira talking so intently. Keira brushed past the other two agents, and Cody followed her out. The elevator doors slid closed behind them.
“Wait,” he said. “We’re not quite finished.”
She turned around, darting a quick look around to see if anyone was watching them, then asked, “What is it?”
“I started to say it’s nothing against you personally why O’Ne—I mean Callahan probably won’t want to include you.” He punched the elevator button again. “It’s a long story, and maybe I’ll tell you sometime, but I’ve got a bullet hole in me because Callahan didn’t even trust the woman he eventually married with the truth.”
Keira shook her head in puzzlement. “I don’t get it. If he didn’t trust her, why did he marry her?”
Cody chuckled. “Good question. Seriously, though, by the time he married her, he did trust her. But it wasn’t easy for him.” The elevator doors swooshed open, and he stepped inside, holding the door for a minute while he finished. “Callahan doesn’t trust many people, and I’d say Mandy’s probably the only woman he does trust.”
The elevator doors closed, and Keira stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the brushed metal, her sixth sense humming. There was something in the way Cody had said Mandy’s name. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. But then most people didn’t work for the agency, either. It was just the slightest softening when he spoke her name. A certain inflection. And Keira knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mandy, whoever she was, had once meant something special to Cody. Maybe still did.
She turned and walked down the hall toward her office. Without realizing it, her right hand touched her left wrist and felt the bruise there. She looked down at both wrists, thinking absently about the other bruises on her body hidden beneath her clothes that no one but she—and her doctor—had seen. Including the imprint of four fingers and a thumb on one still-tender breast.
Keira walked into her office and sat at her desk. She knew she should be upset that she might be unfairly excluded from this investigation because Callahan was a throwback to the bad old days and didn’t think women were up to the job. She knew she could prove him wrong—if she got the chance. She’d been fighting her whole life to be taken seriously, and she wasn’t ready to give up; not by a long shot.
But she wasn’t thinking about that at this moment. She wasn’t thinking about proving herself to Callahan. It made absolutely no sense to her because she’d never allowed her personal feelings to infringe on her work before, but all she could think about in that instant were the marks Cody had left on her body—and the way he’d said Mandy’s name.
Cody stood at a pay phone ten blocks from the agency’s complex, dropping quarters into the slot. It was a good thing he had enough change on him—who carried much cash anymore in this day of plastic?
It also hadn’t been easy even finding a pay phone—almost everyone had a cell phone these days, so a lot of the pay phones had been removed because they no longer generated enough income to make them worthwhile—and he’d almost given up before he found one that was still functional...ten blocks away.
He’d noted the location without drawing attention to it, then had walked several more blocks in a random pattern, “checking six” every so often to make sure he wasn’t being tailed. When he’d been sure he was clear, he’d doubled back to the pay phone and dialed the number he’d memorized earlier.
“Yeah?” Callahan’s gritty voice sounded in his ear.
“It’s me.” Cody knew he didn’t have to identify himself. “D’Arcy gave me the green light, but there’s one small problem.”
“What’s that?”
Cody watched the passersby carefully without letting on he was doing it, making sure no one was evincing interest in his conversation or got close enough to hear him. “He’s sending three of us to Black Rock.”
“No.”
“Just wait,” Cody said. “Don’t say no until you know who.”
“Okay,” Callahan said. “Tell me who, so I can tell you no.”
Cody laughed and shook his head. “Damn, you haven’t changed.”
“I’m alive.” Callahan seemed to think that was explanation enough.
“Besides me, D’Arcy wants to send Trace McKinnon.”
A short pause was followed by a reluctant “I guess I’m okay with that. McKinnon can probably be trusted, especially if D’Arcy says so.” His voice sharpened. “That’s two. Who’s the third?”
“Keira Jones, McKinnon’s partner. You don’t know her, but—”
“No.”
“Just hear me out,” Cody said. “D’Arcy already had them working on this investigation weeks before you called, so they’re two steps ahead of me. I told D’Arcy you wouldn’t like having a woman involved—”
“Damn straight.”
“But he said,” Cody continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “there’s one thing you know as well as he does—the organization doesn’t recruit women.”
There was a long pause. “He’s got a point,” Callahan finally acknowledged grudgingly. “But I don’t know her. Do you?”
Cody rapidly reviewed his meager options. He could stretch the truth—lie, in essence, which he really didn’t want to do to Callahan—or he could come clean and play the odds. “I’ve known her less than a week,” he admitted, deciding only the truth would serve. “Before you say no,” he rushed to add, “let me tell you how I met her.”
He