by Sandra Owens
“Please, Dr. Austin—”
“I know.” She placed her hand on his arm. “We’re doing everything we can for him. I want Sam to stay with us overnight so we can keep an eye on him.”
“Whatever you think necessary. What’s wrong with him? He’s only three years old, so he shouldn’t be getting sick, should he?”
“Does he spend time outside?”
“Yes. My back yard is fenced in, and I let him out back there.”
She asked a few more questions, learning that he lived on a corner lot, and that he’d not noticed anyone in the neighborhood he didn’t recognize. “I think Sam was poisoned,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have an officer stop by and take a look around your yard.”
“Poisoned?”
“I think so.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“I wish I knew. Give us a call in the morning, and we’ll let you know if you can come pick him up.”
He removed his glasses, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and cleaned them. “Will you call me if he . . . if he—”
“I promise I’ll call if there’s any change.” Tears pooled in his eyes, and Riley impulsively gave him a hug. He walked out, his shoulders slumped, and she blinked away her own tears. Mike hadn’t arrived yet, and she was running behind, so she gave Michelle instructions on what to tell him when he stopped by.
“Give him Mr. Hatchel’s address and ask him to take a look around the yard.” Seeing that Lisa had chosen to wait with Barney, she took them to an exam room. Mike might be disappointed that she wasn’t available, but she wasn’t in the mood to be flirted with.
The rest of the afternoon, she played catch up, going from one exam room to the next without a break. Sam seemed to be doing better, and she went to his kennel to check on him one last time. She told Denny, the college student who spent his nights at her clinic, to call her if the dog’s condition worsened. Denny was a good kid, reliable and trustworthy. Often when they had a sick animal, he would make a bed near the kennel so he could keep an eye on it.
Before she left, she walked to the big cages, but there were no dogs wagging their tails at the sight of her. “Where’re Pretty Girl and Sally?”
Denny shrugged. “They were gone when I got here. Figured the owner picked them up.”
Why hadn’t Michelle let her know Cody had stopped by? She went to the front. “Cody pick up Pretty Girl and Sally?”
Michelle turned off her computer. “Yeah, about two hours ago. Told him I’d let you know he was here, but he said not to bother you.” She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. “He wanted his dogs, and he got his dogs.”
“That’s fine.” Something was going on with him, but she couldn’t imagine what.
When she arrived home, Cody’s truck was parked in his driveway, but all his blinds were closed. Once she got the cats fed, she went to her bedroom window and opened it. He never did come out on his porch to play his guitar.
CHAPTER NINE
Friday morning, Cody sat in Kincaid’s office, determined not to squirm under the boss’s stare. The man was always intense and focused, and Cody hated that kind of attention on him. There was no one he respected more than his former SEAL commander, and there was no one he regretted disappointing more.
“If you mean to fire me, I understand,” he said when he finished explaining what had gone down in Iowa.
“I have no intention of firing you if you agree to one condition.”
Cody raised a brow, but he knew what was coming. Get help.
“It’s obvious that something happened in-country that you don’t remember. Probably the concussion played a part in forgetting, but I think whatever it was, subconsciously, you don’t want to remember. Which tells me that whatever you witnessed was some bad shit. These dreams you’ve been having aren’t good, Dog. You have to know that. Until you remember and deal with it, I can’t risk including you on any operations.”
“I understand.” And he did. Didn’t mean he was any less ashamed and embarrassed. “I guess you want me to take a leave of absence?”
Kincaid stood and went to a mini fridge. “Want a soda or water?”
No, he wanted a full bottle of scotch. “A water, please.” He’d been tempted to get so wasted that he couldn’t remember his name when he’d arrived home last night, but knowing he had this meeting first thing this morning, he’d resisted. Last thing he needed was to have shown up with red eyes and a hangover. Kincaid handed him the bottle, and Cody twisted the cap, downing half the contents.
Kincaid returned to his chair, setting a bottle of soda on his desk. “To answer your question, there’s plenty around here you can do until you’re ready to go back on a team. I have a good friend, Tom Bledsoe, who works with vets dealing with PTSD. I’ll call him and set up an appointment for next week. He’s a vet himself who lost a leg in Iraq, so he can relate.”
Swallowing the baseball-sized lump in his throat, Cody let out a breath. Good news: he wasn’t fired. Bad news: he had to see a shrink. The last thing he wanted to do was explore his inner psyche. Something told him there was some bad shit in there. He briefly considered quitting, but that would only be the beginning of a downward spiral from which there would be no return.
“Do you agree?” Kincaid asked.
“Not like I have a choice.”
Kincaid’s eyes narrowed. “You have all kinds of choices, so don’t give me that shit. I don’t turn my back on my men, but I expect them to do what it takes to be a fully functional member of the team, so lose the attitude. If you don’t accept that you have a problem and aren’t willing to take the help you’re being offered, then we’ll part ways right now.”
Chastised, and rightfully so, Cody stood and held out his hand. “You’re right, but then you always are. I have a problem and I need help.” That had been the hardest thing he’d ever admitted to, but in saying it, a seed of hope sprouted in his heart.
Kincaid clasped his hand with Cody’s. “Good. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to beat some sense into you. Go catch up with what operations we have going on and make yourself useful. I’ll let you know when your appointment is after I talk to Tom.”
“Thank you. Although it might not have sounded like it, I do appreciate—”
“Nothing I wouldn’t do for any of you.”
And Cody believed him.
“One other thing.”
Cody wasn’t sure he could take one more thing. “What’s that?”
“I’m having a dinner at my house a week from tomorrow to celebrate Ryan and Charlie’s upcoming wedding. Bring a date.”
“Is that an order, sir?”
Kincaid studied him for a moment. “Yeah, it is. You need to get to know some women now that you live here. I’ll have Dani invite someone for you if you want.”
He didn’t want Kincaid’s wife setting him up with a stranger. “I have someone in mind.”
“Good. Now get to work.”
For the rest of the day, Cody buried himself in catching up with what missions K2 had going on, managing not to think about nightmares, shrinks, and his sexy neighbor.
When he arrived home a little after six, Riley’s car was in her carport. He decided to take a shower before walking over and asking if she’d go with him to Kincaid’s dinner. Instead of putting on his usual sweatpants once he was cleaned up, he chose a pair of jeans and a blue-and-white striped button-down shirt. After a moment’s consideration, he tucked it in and added a belt.
“You’re just walking across the street, dude,” he said, eyeing himself in the mirror. Yet, he wanted to look halfway presentable. It had been ages since he’d asked a woman out—not that he was asking Riley out exactly—and he was damn nervous. He slapped a little cologne on his face while wondering if he should have shaved.
“Enough.” He was making too big a deal over inviting a friend to a celebration dinner. Done with dithering, he walked out onto the porch. Just as he started down t
he steps, a yellow late-model Mustang turned into Riley’s driveway. A man got out and walked up to her door. Cody retreated into his house. He went into the kitchen and watched as Riley came out and got into the car with the dude. Her boyfriend?
Once the car disappeared down the road, he changed into sweats and a long-sleeve T-shirt. In the kitchen, he poured a tumbler half-full of scotch, eyed it, then decided to allow himself this one night of wallowing in his misery. He filled the glass to the top.
Guitar and drink in hand, he went out on the porch with his dogs. “Go play.” They both tilted their heads and stared up at him, as if they found him confusing. Sally barked once. “Right, the balls.” Cody set the guitar and scotch on the table, reached under it, and pulled out the bag with the balls. He tossed two into the yard and the dogs took off.
For a few minutes, he watched them, but their silliness—which usually cheered him—made him think of Layla. She should be out there with them, fat and happy, but was instead lost somewhere in Afghanistan and likely half-starved, if she was even still alive. He downed a good bit of his drink, and then picked up his guitar. All afternoon, he’d worked to put out of his mind all the shit crashing down on him. Alone on his porch as the sun set, he thought his brain might implode from everything he was trying not to think about.
Where was Layla? Who was Asra? What had he seen in Afghanistan that he couldn’t remember? Was he going to have to lie on a couch and share all his inner thoughts with someone he’d never met? Who the hell was the man with Riley?
As he played his sad songs and drank to numb his mind, the night grew dark. At one point, instead of refilling his glass, he brought the bottle out onto the porch. The dogs had long since fallen asleep at his feet. He drank some more, but sober or drunk, his fingers knew the chords, so he played on. Even though he tried not to watch the dark house across the street, his eyes kept straying in that direction. What if she didn’t come home all night?
The thought of another man holding her, touching her, made him want to go hunt them down and snatch her away. If she had a boyfriend, then he’d been wrong about thinking she was interested. No surprise there. He was wrong about a lot of things these days.
His pity party continued, the alcohol doing a damn good job of pickling his brain. He wasn’t a mean drunk, nor was he a happy one. He got quiet, or even quieter, he should say. Never a talkative man, he had a tendency when drunk to zone out and not think about anything at all, which was why drinking worked for him. He liked that state, probably too much.
A car turned the corner, and Cody watched the Mustang pull into Riley’s driveway. It occurred to him that he should go inside so he wouldn’t see her bring the dude into her house with her, but he didn’t move. The man headed around the front of the car, but Riley didn’t wait for him to help her out. The couple walked to her front door, and if Cody wasn’t mistaken, she glanced toward his house. Was that a good sign, or was she just worried that he was watching her? He gave his dogs a signal to keep quiet.
Riley took out her keys, and the man said something to which she shook her head. When the dude put his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her, Cody’s hand took off on its own and strummed a harsh chord. He made a fist with his wayward hand to keep it from making more mischief.
Riley and her date peered his way. She said something, drawing the man’s attention back to her. Pretty Girl and Sally swept their tails over the wood floor of the porch, their necks straining toward the house across the street. Although tempted to let them go to her, Cody managed to refrain. It was up to Riley what happened next. If she disappeared inside her house with her date, then he’d move tomorrow so he’d never have to watch her with another man again.
If . . .
The guy spoke again before turning and walking to his car. Riley glanced toward his porch once more, and then disappeared inside her house.
Alone.
Riley greeted her cats as she walked toward her bedroom, Pelli clawing his way up her slacks, Arthur circling her feet, and Merlin racing ahead to greet her from his place on the pillow. They weren’t used to her being gone at night and didn’t seem to know what to make of this new development.
“It was just a date, guys. Nothing earth-shattering.” They didn’t seem to agree as they made their displeasure at her absence known, all three begging for her attention in their own way.
Going out with Mike hadn’t been awful. He was a nice guy, and she’d enjoyed having dinner and seeing a movie with him, but he didn’t make her stomach twitchy. Not like the man who sat on his dark porch and let her know with one sharp note on his guitar that he didn’t want another man to kiss her. She’d briefly debated letting Mike kiss her goodnight anyway, but couldn’t bring herself to do it knowing Cody was watching. She told Mike that it was late and she had to be at the clinic early when he’d suggested a nightcap.
“Some other time then?” he’d said.
She’d stolen another glance at the dark porch where she knew Cody sat with his dogs. “I think I might be involved with someone, so maybe not.”
Mike raised a brow in the way men were born knowing how to do. “You think?”
She nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure.” Okay, a small lie. She wasn’t sure at all, but the moody man watching them was on her mind twenty-four seven, and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon. It wouldn’t be fair to Mike to pretend she was interested in him even though she would be if she were smart.
After sending Mike on his way, she changed into a pair of jeans and sweatshirt. Although she should just go to bed and put Cody out of her mind—like forever—she was drawn to him, alone there on his porch. Why she knew that he needed her was anyone’s guess, but she thought he did. His heartbreakingly sad music floated over, as if he played just for her. She had to go to him, whether it was a wise thing to do or not.
As soon as she started down her driveway, he stopped playing. If his silence was intended to keep her away, she had news for him. “Ready or not, here I come,” she murmured. At the steps to his porch, she paused. The moon was only a sliver in the midnight sky, and all she could see of Cody was the outline of his body. She waited for him to greet her, but he said not a word. At least the dogs seemed happy to see her, both bounding over to her.
“Hey,” she said. “Don’t stop playing on my account.”
Nothing.
Because of the dark, she couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t read him. If she asked him to turn on a light, she thought he would refuse. “I forgot my beer. Be right back.” She paused. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
Nothing.
Fine, don’t talk, but you have no idea how stubborn I can be. She ran back to her house, grabbed a beer from the fridge and added a lime, then went into her bedroom to get a candle and lighter. Although she’d feared Cody would be locked inside his house when she got back, he was right where she’d left him.
“So, where were we?” She took the seat on the other side of the table from him, set down her beer, and lit the candle. “There, that’s better. Not too much light, not too little.” He eyed the candle, then glanced up at her, and the word that skittered through her mind was haunted. She was a doctor, and although she worked to heal pets, she wanted to heal him. If he’d lost his way, she wanted to help him find it again, and if she thought he’d let her crawl onto his lap and hold him, she would.
“I’m sorry I missed seeing you yesterday when you came for your dogs.” When she picked up her beer, she noticed the almost-empty scotch bottle. Had he been drinking from it all night?
“Didn’t want to bother you.”
Ooh-kay. At least he was talking, but she heard the slight slur in his words. “I was hoping you would bother me.”
No response to that. She tried a different tack. “Would you play for me? I love listening to you.”
“How was your date?”
Not expecting that question, she glanced at him. “It was all right. Had dinner and went to the movies.”
“Boyfriend
?”
“Um, no. First date.” He grunted, but she wasn’t sure whether it was one of approval or what.
Without another word, he began to play. She could listen to him all night. As his music flowed through her, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. What was his deal? She had a hundred questions she wanted to ask, but sensed she’d lose him if she asked even one of them. Instead, she settled for being allowed to share this time with him.
Sally and Pretty Girl slept with their chins on his feet, and she’d noticed that for the hour or so that he’d played, he hadn’t moved his legs. She smiled, thinking how she would do the same with her cats, no matter how uncomfortable she was.
“Why are you smiling?”
Because you’re sweet and you don’t even know it. “I guess because I’m enjoying myself.”
He seemed to mull that over as he strummed a few chords. “Why?”
There were several answers she could give him. She could tell him that she liked being with him even though he wasn’t the happiest person she’d ever met. Far from it, in fact. Or she could tell him that he intrigued her. He was mysterious, which made her curious. The man was downright sexy with that bad boy thing he had going, so that of course appealed to her. Any of those reasons might have him running from her, however, so she thought it best to go with a reason that didn’t relate personally to him.
“It’s peaceful. Your music, the night, the sleeping dogs. I think I could sit here forever if someone would just deliver us food.” His attention was focused on her as she answered, as if whatever she said mattered to him. She could get lost in those sad eyes.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Riley. You make me want things I have no business wanting.” His eyelids hooded, and he stared down at his fingers as they plucked at the strings of the guitar. “I want you, but I’d hurt you, and that would kill me.”
“I think you might be worth the hurt, Cody.” Call her crazy, but damn, she wanted him, even though she believed that he probably would hurt her. Okay, no probably about it. But every bone in her body said he was worth the risk, and there was the slightest, tiniest, itty-bittiest chance that each of them could come out on the other end unscathed. They might even fall in love. At least one of them might, namely her.
