She dropped the gun she was holding onto the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, grabbing towels off the shelf and knocking a couple onto the floor in her haste. When she got back to the bedroom, Steve had a death grip on Ryan’s shirt. Ryan was bent over, Steve’s other hand in his and his ear pressed to Steve’s lips, which were moving between gasps for air. And then she saw it—one long, shuddering breath, and Steve’s body went limp.
“No!” she whispered, appalled.
Ryan stood up, his face hard, cold and deadly, the way she’d seen him look six years before. Blood stained his shirt where Steve had gripped it, and he slid something into his jeans pocket, but she couldn’t see what it was.
“Pack some clothes and things for the kids,” Ryan ordered in a voice she hadn’t heard in six years, and it sent icicles down her spine. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
Mandy didn’t hesitate. She’d been there when her home had been turned into a raging inferno by members of the New World Militia. She’d been there when Ryan and Cody had confronted and killed David Pennington, the militia’s founder. And she knew when Ryan looked and sounded like that, questions—and answers—would have to wait.
* * *
They drove through the stillness of the night, the children fast asleep in their car seats. “Where are we going?” she asked finally.
“Walker’s cabin.”
“Why there? Why not Sheridan or Buffalo?”
Ryan didn’t answer at first. Then he said, “Because I need to get you and the kids out of harm’s way. And because Walker will be there tomorrow, with a couple of other agents.”
Mandy felt the stirrings of anger. “How do you know that?” she asked, trying to keep a lid on her temper. “What haven’t you told me?”
Ryan’s voice was harsh in the darkness. “I called him this afternoon and asked him to come up here.”
She breathed deeply. The fear-induced adrenaline that had kept her going at fever pitch for the past hour had finally drained away, and she felt weak and shaky. But not too weak to remind her husband, “Six years ago you swore you’d never keep secrets from me again. So you’d better start talking—fast.”
* * *
Cody jolted awake when the phone rang beside his bed. He fumbled the receiver to his ear and darted a quick look at his alarm clock. After midnight, he thought. Who could be call—
A deep growl sounded in his ear. “DEFCON One.” A click at the other end told him the caller had hung up. But he knew that voice. And he was pretty sure he knew what the code phrase meant.
He bunched a pillow behind him and lay back against it, staring at the phone in his hand, deeply perturbed. Callahan wouldn’t call him at this time of night unless something had happened, something deadly important he needed to warn Cody about.
Cody looked at the phone in his hand, then punched in a number every agent in the agency had memorized, but which few had ever been called upon to use. Cody never had, either, until now.
The phone rang for a few seconds before it was answered by a crisp voice, unmuffled by the dregs of sleep. “D’Arcy.”
“It’s Special Agent Walker, sir. Sorry to wake you, but you did say to keep you posted, and something has come up.”
“That’s okay. What is it?”
“Callahan just called me. He said two words—DEFCON One—then hung up.”
There was a distinct growl at the other end. “How soon can you get up there?”
“It’s a six-hour drive, but we don’t have everything we requisitioned yet. I was told we’d have it first thing in the—”
“Get your team mobilized and be at the agency in one hour. I’ll make a call—if everything you need will be ready in the morning, it can be ready and waiting for you now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m also going to send up two more teams—one to Buffalo and one to Sheridan—as backup, just in case. They’ll be a few hours behind you, so I don’t want you to wait for them, but don’t hesitate to call for help if you need it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Walker, one more thing.” There was a pause at the other end. “I know you don’t agree with special rule eight.”