Only Her (A K2 Team Novel)

by Sandra Owens

  His eyes finally focused on her. “I had the nightmare, but it didn’t stop like always before.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I-I remember everything.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  When he brushed his fingers across his cheeks, he seemed surprised when they came away wet. He frowned as he stared at his fingertips. She hoped his tears didn’t embarrass him. As far as she was concerned, when you cared for someone you should be able to cry in front of them without fearing they would think less of you.

  Thinking he might feel more comfortable talking to her if she wasn’t looking at him, she stretched out alongside him with her back to his stomach. He put an arm around her, and she laced her fingers through his.

  “I screwed up something awful, and it cost a girl her life,” he finally said after a few minutes of silence.

  She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “Tell me about it.” If he blamed himself for the death of an innocent girl, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to remember. But she knew him, and he would never have purposely put someone in danger. As she listened to his story, tears stained her own cheeks. No, he hadn’t intentionally set out to put the girl in danger, but he’d not followed the rules, and the results had been tragic. Would he ever be able to forgive himself? If not, the guilt would eat him alive.

  “She was gutted like an animal,” he rasped.

  He pulled away, getting out of bed, and she turned over, watching him get dressed. “Are you leaving?” Riley glanced at the clock to see it was five in the morning.

  “Yeah, I need some time alone,” he said, not looking at her.

  The last thing she thought he needed was to be alone, but she sensed that if she argued the point, he would shut down. Although he already had. “You’re still going to the air show, aren’t you?”

  He sat in the chair, his gaze on the shoes he was putting on. “No. I’m going to call Tom, see if he can meet with me this afternoon.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” She bit down on her bottom lip, willing her tears to go away. He was closing down on her. It wasn’t fair. She’d only just found him, and now it felt as if she was losing him.

  “But you still should go. I’ll call Jake. Ask him and Maria to pick you up.” He walked to the bedroom door and paused, but didn’t turn. “Set the alarm after I’m gone.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t really want to go anymore, but if she tried to speak, she would start crying. Her heart hurt, as if it had shattered into tiny pieces, for him and for her. Please stay and let me hold you, she wanted to say.

  “I probably won’t be back later, but I’ll ask Kincaid to send someone over.” He left without looking back, Sally and Pretty Girl trotting out behind him, and maybe it was her imagination, but all three of them, man and dogs, appeared dejected, their shoulders slumped.

  She got out of bed, slipped on a robe, and went to the alarm box. Alarm reset, she curled up on the sofa, unable to hold her tears in any longer. She tried to convince herself that he really did just need a little time alone to think things through, but her heart wasn’t buying it. There was finality in his voice, that of a wounded animal, off to lick his wounds, possibly never to be seen again. To heal, he needed his pack, and that was her and his teammates. Yet, a voice whispered in her ear that he’d already shut her out of his life.

  Arthur jumped up and nudged his face against hers. “I know he’s hurting, but so am I,” she whispered to Arthur. Merlin sat on the back of the sofa, staring down at her. “You’re worried, too,” she said, and he blinked as if in answer. Pelli should be with them, and thinking of him caused fresh tears.

  When she’d finally cried herself out, she rose, and started a pot of coffee. While it was brewing, she showered and washed her hair. Not really caring what she wore to the air show, she slipped on a pair of comfy jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and brown cowboy boots. After two cups of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal, she felt a little better.

  She walked to the window and lifted a blind. The sun was coming up, and it was light enough to see Cody sitting on his steps, his arms dangling between his knees as he stared at the ground. His defeated posture tugged at her. Pretty Girl and Sally sat at his feet, gazing up at him. The whole scene was one of the saddest things she’d ever seen, and even as much as he was hurting, she knew he was keeping an eye on her until Jake and Maria came by to pick her up.

  She dropped the blind back in place. Yes, he was hurting, but he’d hurt her by leaving the way he had. Did she mean nothing to him after all? Afraid of the answer, she turned her attention to how to find Pelli. She was tired of waiting for her crackpot stalker to make the next move. Opening up her laptop, she accessed the file for Mr. Ziegler, the owner of the dog her clinic had mistakenly sent to be cremated. Phone in hand, she started to call the number, but paused. What would she say if someone answered? Or should she just hang up if they did? Deciding she’d apologize for calling the wrong number, she finished the call. It rang six times, then a recording picked up.

  “You’ve reached the Ziegler residence. We can’t come to the phone right now, so unless you’re selling something, please leave a message,” a man’s voice said.

  Riley disconnected. “We,” he’d said, so she assumed that meant he was married. Now what? She pulled up the address, noting the location was two or three miles from her clinic. That still didn’t tell her anything. She glanced at the clock, seeing that she had plenty of time to drive by the Zieglers’ house before Jake and Maria came to pick her up.

  Keys in hand, she got in her car, turned the ignition, and backed up. At the end of her driveway, she stopped. Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought about what she was doing. Don’t go off half-cocked, Riley. Whoever was targeting her probably knew what kind of car she drove and might recognize her. It wouldn’t be out of the way for Jake to drive by the Zieglers’ on their way to the air show.

  Where the hell was she going? She knew it was dangerous to take off by herself. Cody reached for his keys, planning to follow her, but then she stopped. After a minute, she drove the car back into her carport, got out, and went back into her house. What was that all about?

  After leaving her, he’d sat on his porch, watching her house, while scenes from his nightmare flashed through his mind. The first time Asra had approached him with intel, she had slipped a note into his hand. He’d been standing on the street in front of her house, talking to her brother, one of their interpreters. Asra had stood behind Jalandhar, eyes downcast. When Jalandhar had turned away to go into his house, she had slipped a piece of paper into Cody’s hand before hurrying to follow her brother.

  His male brain thought she was giving him a love note of some kind, maybe asking him to meet her somewhere. He almost didn’t open the folded page, but when he did, he’d stared at the words in shock. The Taliban had compromised her brother and was threatening to kill him and his family if he didn’t give them information on the Americans he interpreted for. She’d begged Cody to find a way to help her family, and in return she would pass on anything she heard. At the end of the note, she said that if Cody told anyone that she was giving him information she would jump off the roof of her house, because the Taliban had ears everywhere, and it would mean death for her, anyway.

  He’d debated long and hard about keeping her a secret. Reporting her to his commander should have been the first thing he’d done on returning to base camp. If Kincaid had still been his commander, he would have. But Kincaid was back in the states and no longer in the military.

  Cody had been temporarily assigned to a marine regiment in Kandahar as their sniper. If he went to the base commander with this, or any officer for that matter, he knew how things would roll. They would use Asra without any concern for her safety, while bringing her brother in for questioning. He couldn’t do that to her, so she stayed his secret. He passed on her intel each of the next two times she’d given it, saying he’d been in the right place at the right time to overhear the information. He’d never been s
ure the higher-ups had bought his story, but they hadn’t pressed him on it.

  Nor did he report her brother. The country was fucked. That was a given. The Taliban was merciless, and he couldn’t blame Jalandhar for trying to keep his family safe. In the young man’s shoes, Cody wouldn’t have done anything different. To counter whatever info Jalandhar was passing on—there wasn’t all that much that he was privy to—Cody frequently gave the young man false information.

  Everything he’d done had been to save a young girl brave enough to try to help her family and country, and he’d failed her. She’d not been given a quick death, and because of him, she’d been horribly tortured. How was he supposed to live with that?

  His stomach took a sickening roll, and his mind begged for numbness. He’d told Riley that he was going to call Tom and ask for a meeting. Instead, he went looking for the scotch. If he finished off a bottle, maybe he would forget there was a woman across the street who deserved better than to be dragged into his hellhole. He hadn’t even been able to look her in the eyes after he’d admitted his part in getting Asra killed. And what about Jalandhar and the rest of Asra’s family? Had they been tortured and killed, too? It would be a miracle if they hadn’t been.

  Hands braced against the kitchen counter and head bowed, Cody tried to will away the image of Asra’s mutilated body. It didn’t work, and he eyed the scotch bottle. What the hell, Jake and Maria had just picked up Riley, so he was good to go. He filled a glass to the rim.

  Sally whined.

  “What? Now you’re the booze police?” He glared at the dog peering up at him with worried brown eyes. Pretty Girl leaned her shivering body against Sally’s. Damn dogs. They picked up on every stupid emotion, and right now, his emotions were paying a visit to hell.

  Shit. Sally was right. If he started drinking now, he’d never stop. Ever. He poured the contents of the glass down the drain, following it with what was left in the bottle. “Happy?” Sally gave a bark that he took to mean yes. Pretty Girl wasn’t so sure, apparently. She buried her face into the fur of Sally’s neck.

  “Dumb dogs.” Didn’t they know he needed a drink or five? He dug in his pocket for his phone, and finding it, he called Tom. His head doc was more than happy to see him after lunch. A few seconds after disconnecting, he got a text message ping.

  Might have a lead on Layla. Will let you know.

  Cody stared at Wizard’s text, afraid to believe she’d finally been found. It probably wasn’t her, so he wouldn’t get his hopes up. He answered, thanking Wizard for not giving up, grabbed his keys, and left to see his head doc.

  As he pulled out of the driveway, he eyed Riley’s house. His chest hurt at the thought of never walking across the street again. But he’d caused an innocent girl to be tortured, had seen with his own eyes what had been done to her, and he didn’t think he could ever be at peace with that. He wouldn’t wish himself on his worst enemy, so he wasn’t about to drag Riley down with him. She was too special to wallow in his mud hole.

  When he arrived, Tom was out front, waiting for him. Cody felt bad about bringing him out on a Sunday afternoon, but the man had said to call any time of the day or night.

  “Coffee? Water? Soda?” Tom asked as they walked down the hall.

  “I’m good, thanks.” A lie. He was far from good.

  “You remembered something?”

  Yes, and I wish to God I hadn’t. Cody wandered around the office, stopping to study two framed pictures that looked like a child had drawn them hanging side by side. Only a black crayon had been used in the one on the left, and best he could tell, Cody saw a kid with his mouth wide open, as if screaming. The top of his head was blown off, and black gooey stuff was oozing out. It was a raw cry for help, and too close for comfort to how he felt. He tore his gaze away to look at the one on the right.

  With that one, he guessed the artist was a few years older as the picture was more refined. It was also a happy scene. A boy played with a small dog in the front yard of a pretty house surrounded by colorful flowers.

  Tom came to stand next to him. “The same boy drew both of those, two years apart.”

  “Obviously, he wasn’t well when he drew the first one. What was wrong with him?”

  “He caused the deaths of his parents and baby sister.”

  “Jesus.” Cody shifted his gaze to Tom. “And he’s better now?” He had to be, or he wouldn’t have been able to draw the happy picture.

  “Yes. It wasn’t intentional. It was his bedtime, but he wanted to finish a drawing he’d started, a birthday present for his mother. He snuck a candle and some matches into his room. Long story short, he fell asleep, and he must have knocked the candle over. The carpet caught on fire, and he was afraid he was going to get in trouble, so he hid in his closet. He was burned pretty badly, but he was the only survivor. He was five years old.”

  Cody tried to think of something to say, but he had no words. Finally, a question occurred to him. “I thought there was patient confidentiality or whatever. It’s okay for you to tell me about him?”

  “He gave me permission when he asked me to hang his pictures in my office. He said, and I’ll quote him exactly, ‘Nobody is as bad as me, and if I can get better so can they.’ I think he has a strong message to share. He said I could show people his pictures and that if I thought it would help, I could tell his story. His aunt and uncle are raising him, and they love him like one of their own. His latest thing is visiting hospitals and taking sick kids crayons and coloring books.”

  Tom moved to the chair in front of his desk. “Come sit. Let’s talk.”

  “How do you stand being around people like me and that boy every day? Isn’t it depressing?” Cody sat in the second chair.

  “Sometimes. But the reward is getting a picture filled with puppies and flowers. Makes it all worthwhile.” Tom stuck out his right leg, rotating his prosthetic foot. “Damn phantom itches. Even after all this time, I still get them. Talk to me, Cody.”

  He took a deep breath, and then told Tom his nightmare.

  “And you blame yourself?” Tom said when Cody finished.

  “Of course I blame myself. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  That wasn’t what Cody expected to hear. “I thought you’d try to convince me I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Only you can do that. All I can do is help you talk through it and give you some tools to cope until you decide to forgive yourself. One thing you’re going to have to accept is that you can’t change the past. At some point, you’re going to have to let it go because if you don’t, you’ll never be happy. Is that what you want? I ask because there are people who like being miserable. Are you one of those?”

  “I want to be happy,” Cody whispered.

  “Good, that makes my job a lot easier. I’m assuming you won’t be willing to take any meds to help control your depression?”

  “No meds.”

  “Thought so, but if you ever reach a point where you think about taking your life, you call me. Day or night. If it comes to that, I’ll insist on medication.”

  “No, I’m past that.” And he was.

  “The first thing I’m going to do is teach you some breathing exercises that will help relax you if you start feeling stressed or anxious. We’re also going to talk your nightmare into the ground. Doing that will desensitize the event itself. That’s called exposure therapy. It’s possible now that you’ve remembered the event, the nightmare won’t return.”

  “That would be my greatest wish.”

  “Ready to start?”

  Cody nodded. “I’ve never been more ready.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Riley sucked in a breath when the engine of Charlie’s red stunt plane cut off after a straight-up climb, and then turned as if in slow motion from nose up to nose down before spiraling straight for the ground. “Wow!”

  “It’s called a hammerhead stall,” Ryan said.

  She glanced at him to see if the stu
nt scared him as much as her. His eyes were glued to the plane. There was no way she could stand watching someone she loved risk their life like that.

  “Start the engine, Charlie,” he said, when it seemed like there was no way she could pull up in time.

  As if on cue, the engine sputtered to life, and the plane crossed in front of the grandstand so low that Riley thought Charlie was going to land, but no, off she went up again. “She’s amazing.”

  Ryan grinned. “She so is.”

  The man was besotted with Charlie. That was obvious by the pride she saw in his eyes as he watched his girlfriend defy death. “Do you ever fly with her?”

  He laughed. “Oh, yeah. She leaves my stomach behind every time. Wanna go up sometime?”

  Riley snorted. “Not ever.”

  “Hannah wouldn’t, but Sugar sure as hell would,” Sugar said.

  Jamie made a growling sound. “Hannah nor Sugar are setting foot in that plane.”

  “Who’s Hannah?” Was there another couple she hadn’t met?

  Sugar waved a dismissive hand. “Long story. I’ll tell you sometime.”

  Well, that cleared things up. Riley shrugged and turned her attention back to Charlie and her plane, as she raced past them upside down. When Cody had backed out, she hadn’t wanted to come. She was glad now that she had as she really liked his friends.

  For the afternoon, she was able to forget about stalkers and Pelli and a man who couldn’t conquer his demons. She was even laughing, surrounded by men who were hot and scary at the same time. The women were funny and really nice, and she hoped she could stay friends with them even if she wasn’t with Cody. The only ones missing besides Cody were Logan and Dani. Their little boy had woken up with a cold, so they’d stayed home.

  Riley couldn’t help envying the couples surrounding her. Ryan, with that light in his eyes as he watched Charlie wow the crowd, Jamie fussing over his pregnant wife, and Jake whispering naughty things in Maria’s ear, if Maria’s giggle and blush were any indication.