Flawless (New York Confidential #1)(30)

He nodded, taking notes, and then said, “Your name is Kieran Finnegan, right?”

“Yes. How do you know that?”

“I told you. I saw you on TV. Couldn’t miss hearing about you, to tell the truth. Didn’t you notice that the press were in love with you?” He looked over her shoulder. “And speaking of those vultures, here they are. Whatever... Can you sign this for me? And put your phone number and address there, please.”

She scribbled her name and the information he had requested, trying to look over her own shoulder at the same time.

The media had indeed descended.

She wasn’t sure how they’d gotten in—the police had cordoned off the entry and were letting people go as they finished speaking with them, but they weren’t allowing anyone else in—yet somehow the press had made an appearance.

She could only imagine what the closing of this one line was doing to traffic and commuters citywide. Most people took incidents like this seriously. Still, there would be those who were sure they were only being inconvenienced because an idiotic girl had been playing around and managed to land herself on the tracks.

But...

She hadn’t been fooling around, just chatting with friends. And then she’d come close to being killed.

“How am I going to get out of here?” she murmured aloud. The last thing she wanted was the press descending on her. It wasn’t that she was so humble, she realized. She just didn’t want the attention, certainly not now. And not for instinctively doing what anyone would have and reaching out a hand.

Especially when maybe, just maybe, she was the one who was supposed to have wound up on the tracks.

“Miss Finnegan, in all honesty, they’re here to report that sometimes, things have a happy ending. And imagine! It’s you again. The city has an angel. That’s the spin I’d give it, anyway.”

“Trust me, I’m not an angel and I don’t want to be one. If you could—”

“I can’t stop the press from reporting the truth,” he said.

“No, but can you get me out of here?”

Thankfully, she didn’t have to rely on his resources. No sooner had she handed back the signed report than she was stunned to see a group of men coming toward her.

Danny was leading the charge, but right behind him she saw special agent Craig Frasier, the older man she’d seen with him the night of the robbery and another man, perhaps fifty—Craig’s boss?—white-haired, but lean and fit, as if he worked out with the same determination as Dr. Fuller.

She doubted, however, that this man stayed so fit by playing tennis.

How the hell had they gotten there so quickly?

None of them was panting or sweating—certainly not Danny, who was unfortunately used to running hard since he’d had to do it so many times in the past, generally while running away.

She quit questioning the situation as Danny stepped aside and the white-haired man showed his credentials to Officer Friendly, who had stepped forward, as if to stop them coming near her.

“I hope you have all you need from this young woman,” the white-haired man said in a tone that said the response had better be yes.

“Yes, sir. I have her signed statement,” Officer Friendly replied. “If she’s with you... We may need her again, but we know how to reach her.”

“Excellent. It seems our timing is perfect. We’ll see the lady out. Thank you, Officer. Miss Finnegan, shall we?”

Kieran wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed, thrilled, smug—or more worried than ever.

Before she knew it, she was back up at street level and suddenly aware of how the foursome had gotten there so quickly. A black sedan awaited them on the street, guarded by a beat cop.

“Thanks, Reggie,” Craig Frasier told him, opening the rear passenger door and ushering her in.

Danny entered from the other side, and she ended up wedged between her brother and Frasier, with the white-haired man driving.

And as he sat next to her, those ice-chip eyes of his on her, Agent Craig Frasier murmured softly, “Miss Finnegan, you do seem to have a talent for finding danger. Just what is it about you?”





CHAPTER

SIX



“MISS FINNEGAN, I’m sorry, but there wasn’t time for introductions in there,” the white-haired man said. “I’m assistant director Richard Eagan. I’m not sure if you two have met yet or not, but—” he nodded at the man beside him “—this is special agent Michael Dalton, Craig’s partner. I hope we didn’t drag you away against your will. I know the press were eager to talk to you. Saving the day twice in one week is news, even in New York.”

“Proud of you, sis,” Danny said, nudging her. “You saved her from a grisly death.” He shuddered, murmuring, “Even thinking about it...”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m pleased to meet you—and very grateful for the rescue. I just happened to be closest to her. Anyone else would have done the same.” She was acutely aware of Craig Frasier by her side—and equally aware that he was still watching her with suspicion.

“We heard some of what happened on the way over—news travels at the speed of light today. Or sound,” Eagan said. “Or internet...waves or whatever they are. You’re probably tired of talking about it, but what exactly did happen down there?”