REILLY'S RETURN

by Amelia Autin

  Reilly encompassed the whole room in a glance, his eyes narrowing as they took in the neat state of the bed. Mandy knew by his expression that he realized what she'd done, and why. He'd also noticed that she'd straightened her clothing, because his gaze traveled over her, lingering on her blouse before moving up to meet her eyes. He didn't say anything, though. Probably because he didn't want to draw Cody's attention to it.

  She shivered. Was it was from the cold? she asked herself, or from the blatantly sexual look in Reilly's eyes? "It's chilly in here," she muttered, and started for the fireplace. Cody beat her to it.

  "I'll take care of that," he told her as he knelt and stirred up the coals before adding a couple of logs.

  Not to be outdone, Reilly strode across the room and switched on the space heater, to add its meager heat to the task of warming up the room. He would have slid a possessive arm around her then, but the coffeepot boiled over at that moment, and glad of the excuse, Mandy hurried to turn off the flame.

  She took three mugs down from the cabinet and set them on the counter in readiness. As she poured coffee into them, she asked, "Cody, what are you doing here in the middle of the week? Aren't you on duty tomorrow?"

  He accepted the mug she held out to him and shook his head. "I switched with one of my deputies. There was talk of a memorial service for you tonight, even though nothing's been confirmed yet, so I hightailed it out of there. It's hard to fake grief when I know you're not dead. I played the stoic mourner, and told people I was going to the cabin for a couple of days to … you know…" The corner of his mouth twitched ruefully. "Everyone was duly sympathetic."

  She shot a warning look at him, and with a sideways glance at Reilly he added, "You being my oldest friend, and all."

  Mandy handed Reilly his cup of coffee, avoiding his sharp-eyed gaze. "I wish…" she started, then fell silent. What was there to say? She hated the thought of her friends grieving for her, knowing how she would feel if it had been Alice or Judy or any of the other friends she'd grown up with who was presumed dead. She wished there was some way she could let them know she was still alive, without endangering Reilly or herself. There wasn't, though, and she knew it. What good would voicing the wish do, except make Reilly feel worse than he already did for having brought all this down on her?

  She also wished there was some way to escape the questions she sensed Reilly was just itching to ask. She had the sick, bottom - dropping – out - of - her - stomach feeling that her answers were going to hurt him far more than she'd ever believed possible. She wouldn't lie to him, though. There'd been too much secrecy and deception in their relationship already. How could she ever make Reilly understand how wrong he'd been before, if she did the same thing now?

  There would be a time and place for the explanations she needed to make, but this wasn't it. Not with the latent hostility between the two men just waiting for an excuse to flare up again.

  She picked up her own cup of coffee and took a long swallow, letting the warm brew chase the cold away. The tension in the room was so thick it was a tangible thing, and she prayed that neither man would do anything to set the other one off.

  Cody chose that moment to speak up. "So O'Neill, have you changed your plans since you heard the news?"

  Reilly tossed him a questioning glance, and Mandy said, "What news?"

  "You mean you haven't heard?" Cody straightened, then grimaced and eased the weight off his bad knee again. "Pennington's out of jail."

  "What?" Reilly's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That's not possible."

  "The appellate court overturned his conviction, and he's out on bail. It was all over the news this morning."

  Shocked, Mandy asked, "How could they do that? He tried to kill Reilly a year ago!"

  "None of that has been proven, honey," Cody said, with a guarded look at Reilly that Mandy saw but didn't understand. A silent message seemed to pass between the two men, and she opened her mouth to ask about it, but Cody explained, "It's a catch-22 situation. O'Neill was supposed to be dead, but really wasn't. Pennington couldn't be prosecuted for ordering a murder that never occurred, and if the charge had been attempted murder, Pennington would have known O'Neill was still alive. That would have defeated the whole purpose of faking O'Neill's death."

  "But…" Mandy set her coffee cup down and fumbled to put her thoughts into some kind of order. "He must have known Reilly wasn't dead. I mean, Pennington wouldn't have tried again now if he didn't."

  Reilly's voice sent icy shivers down her spine. "Yeah. You're right. But whoever sold me out did it recently. Now that I know Pennington's original conviction was overturned, the list of possible suspects just expanded."

  Mandy's forehead wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

  Cody answered. "A new trial, honey, means the prosecution has to reassemble its case. Witnesses have to be lined up. Without O'Neill's testimony, the original case against Pennington falls apart."

  Reilly added, "Only two men in the witness protection program had the knowledge to betray me this time. They both knew about you and they both knew I was headed this way when I left California three weeks ago. Up 'til now I thought one or the other, or both, had to be guilty.

  "Under the circumstances, though, they probably had no choice but to reveal to the prosecutors that I'm still alive, still able to testify." He stared at the contents of his coffee mug as if he didn't like what he saw, then dumped the remains in the sink and left the cup there. "That means anyone on the prosecution team could have done it. And if they sent federal marshals after me to bring me in, any one of them could have sold me out, too."

  "Federal marshals?" Mandy was appalled.

  "I told you Pennington has men everywhere," Reilly gently reminded her, "at all levels of our government. We'll never discover them all. It doesn't really matter, though, because they're relatively harmless without the organization. Pennington's the key. Without him, without his money and his contacts with the underworld, the New World Militia can't survive."

  "That's the one good thing about Pennington," Cody threw in. "If you can call it that. He's a megalomaniac. Always kept the real power in his own hands. Any good military organization has a chain of command, men trained to take over even if the top man goes down, but Pennington didn't set up the militia that way." He tossed off the last of his coffee and set his cup beside Reilly's, then leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "There's no one trained to take Pennington's place. He's indispensable to them, and that's exactly how he wants it."

  For just a moment Mandy wondered how Cody knew so much about the New World Militia, then shrugged it off as unimportant right now. She sipped at her coffee, her eyes seeking Reilly's over the rim of the cup. "So what are you going to do?"

  "Whatever I have to." His expression was grim, forbidding, his lips set in uncompromising lines. "He won't get another chance to hurt you."

  Mandy shivered again, despite the hot coffee she'd just swallowed and the growing warmth of the room. She was afraid when Reilly looked like that. Not for herself, but for him. She still balked at the knowledge that the man she loved was capable of premeditated murder, even if it was to protect her.

  What about you? her conscience demanded. When you went after Reilly tonight, gun in hand, you were just as willing to kill for his sake. What's the difference?

  Was it the same thing? She wasn't sure. Her world had been turned upside down in the forty-eight hours since Reilly's return, and she hardly recognized herself. The woman who would have fired that gun without hesitation tonight wasn't the same woman who'd walked into her bedroom two nights ago. Or was she?

  She didn't know anymore. All she really knew was that she still loved Reilly. It hadn't been easy admitting it to herself, or to him, but now that she had, did she have any other choice but to accept him as he was?

  "There are other ways of taking Pennington down without killing him," Cody said bluntly, stating what was in all their minds. "But we aren't going to solve anything tonight." He rub
bed a hand over his face, stifling a yawn. "I don't know about you two, but I'm dead tired. I've got to get some shut-eye." He cast a not-so-casual glance at the bed in the corner, then caught Reilly's eye and coughed.

  Warmth crept up Mandy's cheeks at the possessive expression on Reilly's face. If he hadn't already made it plain by his earlier behavior, he wasn't leaving any room for doubt in Cody's mind that they were lovers again. Embarrassed, and trying not to show it, she busied herself with rinsing out all three coffee cups and avoided looking at either man.

  What was she going to do about the sleeping arrangements? She only had a few seconds to decide. She didn't think Reilly would understand if she refused to share his bed, but she didn't know if she could sleep with him while Cody was in the same room. It would be awkward, to say the least. And she had no idea what Cody's reaction would be if Reilly pushed the issue.

  Reilly's voice, deep and compelling, spoke her name. It wasn't a question but a demand, and it forced her to turn around and look at him. He hadn't moved, but he seemed to loom over her, and his aggressive stance told her he wasn't going to be understanding about this. Her eyes pleaded with him, but the message didn't get through.

  She wanted to explain, needed to explain, but it was impossible with Cody right there listening to everything they said. Besides, what would she say? Reilly had no way of knowing how things stood between Cody and her, and she really didn't think now was the time to tell him.

  She shot an imploring look at Cody, but he just folded his arms, tightened his lips, and gave her a tiny shake of his head, as if to say he wasn't about to make it any easier for her by leaving the room.

  Her gaze flashed back to Reilly, standing so still and unyielding. He'd caught her momentary exchange of glances with Cody, and she saw the dawning comprehension in his eyes. Her hand moved toward him in a futile gesture. "Reilly, I…"

  He swung around, not waiting for the rest. "I'm going to check the other traps," he tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the front door. "I'll be back shortly." He paused on the threshold, one hand on the doorknob, and threw her one last burning look. "Whatever you decide, decide by then."

  Mandy covered her face with both hands, wishing she could blot out the sight of Reilly's face as he left, but knowing it would stay with her forever.

  He knew. Somehow he knew about Cody and her.

  I should have told him. I shouldn't have let him find out like this! She rubbed her hands over her face and pressed her fingertips in the corners of her eyes to hold back the threatening tears.

  But what could I have said? When could I have explained? There hasn't been a chance, really. If only Cody hadn't shown up! I could have explained everything in the morning. Oh God! Before, I wanted to hurt Reilly because he'd hurt me. But not like this. What am I going to do?

  "Mandy?" Cody's voice intruded on her pain, and she dropped her hands to look up at him.

  "I never stood a chance with you, did I?" A trace of bitterness sharpened his tone. "It was always O'Neill. Even when you thought he was dead, you still loved him."

  She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

  Emotion flickered over his irregular features. "You haven't told him about us, though, have you?" When she turned away without answering, he grabbed her arm and swung her around. "Or about anything else?"

  "I couldn't."

  "Damn it, Mandy. I'm the last one to plead his case, but you owe him the truth at least."

  Reilly's voice, cold and hard, came from the doorway. "And what truth would that be?"

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  « ^ »

  Mandy and Walker whirled around, guilt written on both their faces. Reilly waited a moment, and the thought ran through his mind that maybe he didn't want to hear the answer, but he pressed on doggedly. "The truth that the two of you are lovers?"

  Mandy caught her breath. "No!"

  Walker's eyes steadfastly met Reilly's. "Yes."

  "Cody, no!" Mandy's gaze darted to the man at her side and then back to Reilly, her eyes huge in her pale face. "It wasn't like that, Reilly. I swear."

  The blow rocked him with unexpected power. One hand grasped the door frame for support, until the knuckles turned white. Emotions roiled within him, anger battling revulsion and betrayal for dominance. Hot words pressed against his lips, and his jaw ached as his tightly clenched teeth fought to keep them back. How could you, Mandy? he raged silently. Is that all I meant to you? You didn't even have the decency to wait a year before—

  His hands curled into fists and his muscles tensed as he curbed the urge to strike out.

  He'd refused to believe it earlier. When he'd walked out, his initial certainty had quickly turned to doubt, and he'd taken himself to task for not trusting Mandy. He'd all but convinced himself that his suspicions were unfounded, that the meaningful glances between Mandy and Walker and the significant pauses in their conversation didn't mean what they seemed to mean. He'd made short work of checking the perimeter, eager to return to the cabin.

  Eager. He mocked himself with the word. He'd always been eager where she was concerned. Eager for her companionship as well as her bed. Eager to share the wonder, the joy of a love that had come to him after so many years of waiting for the one woman who would be to him what his mother had been to his father. Eager to protect her when danger threatened, even though it meant sacrificing his dreams. Eager, so damned eager to return to her when it finally seemed safe.

  And all this time, while he suffered—submitting the face God gave him to a surgeon's altering scalpel, counting the days, weeks, months that passed, hoping against hope—all this time she'd been sleeping with Cody Walker.

  After a moment fraught with tension, he concealed the mortal wounds he'd received behind a mask of contempt and said, "I guess that settles the question of who's sleeping where."

  He knew the barb had hit home, when Mandy flinched as if he'd struck her across the face. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, they glistened with pain, anger and unshed tears.

  "Damn you," she said. "You have no right to judge me! No right, do you hear?" She looked at Walker. "And damn you, too. Damn both of you!" She was shaking, but her head swiveled toward Reilly again and she took two steps toward him. "You don't know what I went through. You stand there in judgment, like God Almighty, but you don't know anything about it." Tears trickled down her cheeks and she angrily dashed them away. "I almost died when you did. Does that make it easier for you? Does that make you happy?"

  Deep inside, far beneath the smothering ashes of his own pain and the shield of wounded pride, another emotion breathed into life once more. "No," he managed to say, shaking his head, his throat aching.

  More tears trembled on her lashes, spilling over as he watched. "Yes, I slept with Cody. Once. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed, either. I won't let you make me feel ashamed." She drew a ragged breath and expelled it in a rush. "He was there when I needed someone," she said in a desolate, heartbreaking voice. "Do you want to know why? Do you?"

  Walker reached out and snagged her arm. "No, Mandy. Not like this."

  She shook off his hand. "What do you know about it, Cody?" she asked bitterly. "You don't understand. Neither of you understands anything."

  "I understand enough to know you'll regret it later," Walker said.

  As little as Reilly was enjoying this scene, he hated being kept in the dark even more. "Leave her alone, Walker," he threatened. "Whatever her excuse is, let her tell me."

  Mandy tossed back her head, her blue eyes blazing at him. "Excuse? I don't need excuses. You let me think you were dead. Any claim you had on me died with you!"

  Reilly's anger flared, rising to match hers. The desire to wound as he had been wounded made him say softly, "So much for your deathless love, Mandy."

  She slapped him. She put her whole arm into it, but the shock that he'd baited her into striking him was worse than the sting. Shame scorched him as he touched the red impr
int of her fingers on his cheek, and he acknowledged that he deserved it, and more.

  "Believe what you want," Mandy said, throwing the words at him like tiny poison-filled darts. "I don't have to justify myself to you. No, don't touch me," she told Walker as the other man reached to restrain her. "I'm sick to death of men right now."

  She squared her shoulders and said defiantly, "I'm going to bed. Alone." She glanced at the bed in the corner, and Reilly thought he detected an instant's yearning regret in her expression before she looked away, but it could have been just a trick of the light. "I'll take the cot," she said. "The two of you can fight over the bed."

  There wasn't a chance in hell he would get any sleep in that bed tonight, Reilly thought. Mandy's sweet fragrance, combined with the more earthy scents of their recent lovemaking would be lingering reminders of the passionate heights they'd reached earlier, underscoring the despairing depths to which he'd now sunk. But there was no way he was going to let Walker sleep there, either. "You take the bed, Mandy," he said in a voice that brooked no argument, casting a forbidding look at Walker to ensure his assent. "Walker can have the cot, since it's his cabin. I'll doss down on the floor."

  * * *

  Mandy shivered in the darkness. The fire Cody had built up earlier had died down, leaving a definite chill in the air, but it wasn't the cold that bothered her. Even though they'd had to share the available blankets between the three of them, she'd managed to make a cozy little nest of warmth for herself under the remaining covers.

  No, she wasn't shivering from the cold, but from the delayed reaction to her earlier confrontation with Reilly.

  I almost told him, she thought, horrified that she could even contemplate using the baby she'd lost as a weapon against him. That's beneath contempt. She closed her eyes and her lips moved silently as she sent up a prayer for forgiveness from heaven and her baby.