by Sandra Owens
A few weeks after his parents had visited, his former commander, Logan Kincaid, had shown up unexpectedly. The next thing Cody knew, he was at a secret location learning all about the Sealion, a stealth boat that had only been whispered about among the SEAL teams. Soon after, he’d participated in a K2 mission and hadn’t touched a drop of liquor during the operation.
Since then, he’d cut out drinking during the day. Although he’d tried to make it through the nights without the numbing effects of alcohol, the nightmares had driven him back to the scotch bottle. Yet last night, he’d managed a few hours without the dreams. Well, he’d dreamed, but it had been of her, his neighbor with no name. He’d woken up with a massive hard-on, and he’d take that over the nightmares any day.
He pulled into the K2 parking lot at the same time as Ryan O’Connor, the team’s medic. The last time he’d seen Doc had been three months before in Helsinki when they’d gotten a defector and his family out of Russia using the Sealion.
“Heard you’re getting married,” he said, bumping Ryan’s shoulder hard enough to send the man sideways. “And I thought I was crazy.”
His friend came right back at him. “You are a crazy son of a bitch.”
Fully expecting it, he braced his body against the hard hit. “Oomph.”
Ryan laughed. “I heard that. You’ve gone soft, old man.”
It hadn’t been that long ago when his body wouldn’t have given way, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have made a girly sound. Although any civilian looking at him would think him in excellent condition, he’d gotten lax on his training regimen and wasn’t in the fighting form that was critical to their job. Time to get back in shape, in more ways than one.
If he didn’t get his head screwed on straight, Kincaid wouldn’t fire him, but he would ground him and send him to a head doctor. Cody knew this because the boss had been up front with him about his concerns. He appreciated the man’s honesty, but Cody would quit before reliving his nightmares with a shrink. That meant he had to get a grip because his sobriety depended on keeping the job and being back with his teammates.
After he spent a half hour with Maria Buchanan, Kincaid’s sister and team member Jake Buchanan’s wife, getting all his new hire paperwork in order, Maria took him on a tour of the facilities. He was impressed with what his former commander had achieved. K2 Special Services was a state-of-the-art operation, and Cody itched to be included as a valued member of the team. Because Kincaid knew he’d gone a little crazy—more crazy than normal—he’d have to prove he had his act together. He just wished that was actually true.
“Everything’s going to work out,” Maria said, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
How much had she heard about him? His cheeks heated, and Cody glanced away, pretending to study the open war room where support staff was gathered around Jamie Turner, known as Saint to the team because he didn’t drink, cuss, or brag about his conquests. He’d heard Saint had recently gotten married. What was with all the love crap going on with his teammates?
“Unless you’re involved in an operation, you’ll start each morning here,” Maria said, pulling open a door. She led him into the most amazing gym he’d ever seen. Every imaginable exercise machine—treadmill, rowing machine, NordicTrack—you name it, and it was here. Along the back wall were weightlifting benches, and there was even a boxing ring. About a dozen people were inside, working out on the various machines to the sound of high-energy rock music blaring from overhead speakers. Two men Cody pegged as personal trainers were walking around the room, stopping now and then to assist someone.
He spied his other former SEAL teammates, Kincaid, Buchanan, and O’Connor. Kincaid was the first to notice him and gave a slight lift of his chin, indicating Cody should join them.
“Hit the deck,” his boss said, when Cody reached them. “Last one to a hundred gets in the ring with me.”
Hell. That was going to be him, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t give it all he had. He dropped alongside the others and powered through the first seventy-five push-ups, then with his arm muscles quivering and sweat pouring off him, he got to ninety-two before he collapsed facedown on the floor. What was about to follow was going to hurt.
Kincaid stared down at him, his lips curling in disgust. “Five o’clock, Dog. In the ring.”
Cody gave a curt nod, embarrassed about his poor showing. On the plus side, he had until five to recover before he had to step into the ring and get knocked on his ass by the boss.
He spent the rest of the day familiarizing himself with K2 and the current operations going on in various parts of the world. Several times, he caught his thoughts straying to his neighbor, wanting to crack a smile at her giving him the finger. She was a feisty one. If he were in a better place . . . he quickly shut that kind of thinking down. Between being screwed up, starting a new job, and cutting down on the booze, he didn’t have any room left for a woman. Even if a certain part of him down below disagreed.
All too soon, the day passed, and he found himself in the ring with Kincaid. Reluctantly in the ring, he amended. The rest of the team, along with other K2 employees, lined the perimeter, and after no one would bet on him, they gave up trying to place wagers. That was a boost to his ego. Not.
The only edge he had was that he was crazy. In their frequent bouts in-country, his team had all been leery of him, including the boss, as they never knew what to expect from “Dog.” That would be his only advantage in the fight about to happen. The rules were that there were no rules, and although he’d come out on top more often than not with his teammates, he’d never bested his commander. Even a fool could predict that wasn’t going to change today, and he just hoped Kincaid wouldn’t hurt him . . . too much. That was his last thought as his vision centered on the fist coming at him.
“What happened?” Cody asked from his position, flat on his back on the mat, as Doc stared down at him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.
Ryan O’Connor snorted. “First punch, you were out like a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“You were today. The others left, didn’t want to stick around and shame you.”
And wasn’t that humiliating? Cody pushed up and glanced around. There was no one in sight. “I thought he’d let me play with him for a round or two first, that maybe I’d get a lucky hit in.”
“He was teaching you a lesson.” Ryan stood. “Since you’re not dead, I’m outta here. Got a hot date with my girl.”
Alone, Cody tried to stand, only to end up back on his ass. As he sat, waiting for the fuzz in his brain to clear, he bristled at being likened to a baby. Okay, Ryan had intentionally said it to motivate him. Yeah, he got that. Well, he did once the fog lifted. And the boss, same thing. Getting knocked on his ass with the first punch was definitely a motivating message.
He pushed up with one hand while using the other to rub his aching jaw. Getting back in fighting form would be a piece of cake. First thing in the morning, he’d begin a training regimen. Between that and the workouts they all participated in during the workday, in two weeks, three weeks max, he’d be back in shape.
The getting his act together? Whole different story. At least, he could admit his head wasn’t where it should be. That was a good thing, right? You couldn’t fix a problem if you didn’t acknowledge it. The nightmares weren’t helping, nor was not sleeping. Damn strange how he had never had a problem with either of those things until he had opted out of the SEALs.
It was like as long as he was doing his job of killing people, he was good with it. He’d followed the ROE to a T, and those Rules of Engagement had been frustrating at best and downright stupid at worst. Too many times, he’d let a man live who he knew down to his toes was a terrorist, because in a military court his only defense for the kill would have been, “I just knew.”
Since that would have meant go straight to jail, do not pass go, he’d not pulled the trigger of his sniper rifle without verifiable proof that the terr
orist lined up in his sights actually was a terrorist. Maybe what haunted him was the Marine private who had been killed because Cody hadn’t acted on his instincts. If there was one he knew of, how many other brothers in arms had died because of a bad guy he’d let live?
Riley glanced in her rearview mirror to see the truck behind her turn into the driveway across the street as she pulled into hers. Her mystery man climbed out of a silver pickup with dark tinted windows. She waved as she walked toward her door, and he responded with a barely discernable nod. Right, got it. Not going to be friendly. Probably for the best, because if sexy mystery man crooked his finger, she’d likely head right for him like the sex-starved woman she was.
All her energy and time the past year had gone into getting her veterinarian clinic up and running so she could pay off her student loans. No time to schedule sex into the appointment book, not even a ten-minute quickie. Before Sexy Mystery Man popped up, she’d not really given sex—or the lack thereof—much thought, being that she was worn out by the time she dragged herself home each night.
But she was thinking of it now—most especially the lack thereof—since her nameless neighbor had stood on his porch that morning, showing off a six-pack that merited serious admiration. Damn him, anyway.
Cats fed, a beer in the freezer, Riley took a quick shower, then slipped on panties and a robe. Although it had grown dark outside, she didn’t turn on any lights in her bedroom, but she did open her window. No sound of a guitar, so more disappointed than she’d expected to be, she retrieved her beer-turned-to-slush and spent the next hour trying to catch up on her bookkeeping.
It had only been the month before that she’d finally felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel where her income versus expenses was concerned. Progress, gotta love it. Arthur, the most affectionate of her three felines, had curled up on her lap while Merlin perched on the back of a chair watching Pelli bat a ball around on the floor.
Arthur had been the catalyst for giving a lost girl the idea of becoming a veterinarian. Having bounced from foster home to foster home, living with strangers who didn’t really want her, she had befriended their pets. Arthur was the only one that had actually belonged to her, a gift from her last foster mother. He had entered her life during a time she thought of as her Dark Days. Even though a cat, he had been her friend and confidant when she’d needed one the most.
When, as a kitten, he’d refused to eat, she’d checked out books from the library on the care of felines. Those first books had led to more complicated ones, and soon she was devouring any animal books she could get her hands on, including medical textbooks.
“You’re my sweet boy, aren’t you?” She scratched under his chin, causing him to purr. Yeah, life was pretty good these days, even if lacking in the sex department.
The bills paid, she tossed her empty bottle into the recycling bin. While she’d been busy with the paperwork, she’d managed to put the latest poisoned animal out of her mind, this time a dog. With the first one, she’d assumed it had gotten into someone’s garbage or maybe some spilled pool chlorine. The second one had worried her. The third one had alarmed her, but apparently not the police since they hadn’t followed up after she’d reported her concerns. Someone in the neighborhood was intentionally killing pets. She’d begun questioning the owners, but so far, she hadn’t been able to find a connection. As she’d cried with the distraught owners, she had vowed that she would find the person responsible.
What she needed was to clear her head, and a good, sweaty run would do the trick. She tried to run two or three times a week, usually in the early morning before work, but had let herself get lazy the last few days. Since it was dark out and she wasn’t stupid, she would just run up and down the sidewalk in front of her house under the streetlights.
After changing into running clothes, she headed out. She checked her Fitbit, noting the steps she’d taken so far that day. Three thousand more, she decided, clipping the device onto the waist of her shorts.
On the fifth pass by her house, she heard a car coming up the street at the same time she noticed Mystery Man on his lawn, tossing balls to his dogs. She subtly eyed him as she ran past, a thrill coursing through her at seeing him blatantly watching her.
The car’s engine revved as it sped up, and Riley considered yelling at the driver to slow down, that there were children and animals living on the block. Better not to, though. Too many crazies behind the wheels of cars these days.
At the very moment she heard the auto’s tires bump over the sidewalk, she was tackled from behind by a pair of strong arms, pulled back against a rock-hard body, and rolled across her lawn until finally being pulled behind a magnolia tree.
Acting on instinct, she bit down on the arm holding her. When the man swore and let go, she twisted and brought up her knee, aiming for his junk like she’d been taught in her self-defense class.
“Easy, darlin’,” the man said, catching her leg and holding it with a strength she couldn’t match. “I’m rather fond of that part.”
Heart pounding as if she’d run a marathon, she looked into the caramel-colored eyes of her mystery man. He let her go, and she scooted away. As she became aware of her surroundings, she heard the squeal of tires as the car raced away. The man’s dogs were furiously barking, and she glanced across the street to see them running back and forth along the edge of the sidewalk.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she yelled.
The blasted man rolled onto his back and laughed. “Now there’s a question.”
“Are you crazy?” Great, her new neighbor was a wacko. He lifted onto an elbow, and she couldn’t help but notice how the muscles in his arm flexed. And then he smiled, showing off a dimple on the right side of his cheek, which made her stomach twitchy. Okay, he was a hot wacko.
“You keep asking me that,” he said. “Same answer as before. Probably.”
Ooh-kay then. The sexy smile faded, and his intense focus on her made her want to squirm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Why did you tackle me?”
“Enough,” he said, raising his voice.
Just as Riley decided she really was in the company of an unbalanced man and it was time to make her exit, the dogs quieted. “Oh, you were talking to them.” There went that dimpled smile again.
“I’d never yell at you, darlin’.” He pushed up to a sitting position. “Know who’d like to see you dead?”
Well, hell. Just when she was beginning to think he was sane, he went and ruined her hope. Hope, because her stomach was still doing that fluttery-twitchy thing, and really, she was way overdue for some playtime. She just bet he was a man who could teach her a few new tricks.
She shook her head. “Of course not. Why would you even ask such a question?”
As if used to scoping out his surroundings, he scanned the area around them. “Because whoever was driving that car aimed right at you.”
“Huh?”
He reached over and put his fingers under her chin, closing her mouth. “Someone just tried to kill you, darlin’.”
“Stop calling me that. My name’s Riley. Riley Austin.” Although she actually liked how the endearment sounded when he said it, she would never admit it. She had the feeling he was a man who pushed the boundaries of how far he could go. She swallowed a snort. Admit it, Riley. You’d like him to push your boundaries.
“Riley,” he said, his voice caressing her name. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cody Roberts.”
And of course, he would have a sexy cowboy name. “That car, it was just someone not paying attention, probably texting.”
“Sorry, darlin’ . . . ah, Riley, but no. They were looking right at you and aimed for you. Whoever it was had on a knit hat and dark glasses even though it’s night. Couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. I should have gotten the plate number, but I was too busy saving your pretty ass. It was an older model Chrysler, a Sebring maybe, so we know that much.”
He thought her ass was pretty? Pay
attention, Riley. Did someone really try to run her over? She couldn’t think of a soul who had it out for her. “No, no one’s trying to kill me.” On top of her patients dying of poison, that would just be too much. “No,” she said with conviction, “you’re wrong.”
“I don’t think—”
Those eyes. She could drown in them. Before she thought better of it, she leaned forward and, oh God, she was kissing him.
CHAPTER THREE
Cody was not a man easily shocked, but Riley Austin managed to do just that when, without warning, her mouth covered his. It had been months—a lot of months—since he’d touched a woman, and her taste was as sweet as a cool drink of spring water to a man lost for years in a godforsaken desert.
Never mind that he was crazy and she shouldn’t let him anywhere near her, he needed what she was offering too much to be a gentleman. Hell, he’d never been a gentleman. He cradled the back of her neck with one hand and angled his head, deepening the kiss. Her mouth softened and her eyes slid closed.
Wanting more, he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips, and her mouth parted. So good, so damn good. It had been too long since he’d had his mouth on a woman’s, and he couldn’t suppress a moan. At the sound, she pulled away and blinked as if coming out of a trance.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I’m not.” It was too dark to see the color of her cheeks, but he’d bet his two drinks for that night that she was blushing. Although he didn’t know how to do tender, something inside him felt weirdly soft for this woman, a stranger to him, and it wasn’t a feeling he liked.
Riley Austin, kisser of strange men, target of an unknown enemy, stood and brushed the grass from the back of her shorts. He wouldn’t at all have minded doing that for her, but doubted she’d appreciate his hands on her ass. And it really was a lovely one. Cody pushed up and waited to see what she would say.
