by Mallory Kane
An unreasonable fury trembled inside her, desperate to be released. She let it all out—all the fear and anger and worry she’d bottled up ever since he’d walked into her apartment bleeding and hurt. “All grown up? Cody Maxwell? I don’t think so. You’re still playing cops and robbers. You still think your life is some television drama where the good guys always win.” She wrapped her arms around herself and scrunched her shoulders.
“I’m tired of you accusing me of treating my job like some kind of game, Dana. I’m a cop. I am a good guy. This is not a game, it’s life and death, and I’d like to think I’m helping the good guys win.”
“You’re not winning! You’re not invincible. Look at you. You keep getting shot, keep getting closer to that last inevitable bullet that’s going to kill you.” She could feel the tears clogging the back of her throat, tears of anger, of fear, of unbearable pain. She swallowed them.
She would not cry. She would not show him how much it hurt her to see him struggling against corruption, like a lonely champion. It broke her heart to know he really believed he was invincible, that he could save the world without getting himself killed.
“Why couldn’t you just live a normal, quiet life, Cody? Why wasn’t that enough for you?”
Cody’s face had gone blank as she’d yelled. He stood up straight, his eyes hooded and a small frown creasing his forehead. “I’m going for that walk. But please, don’t let that stop you. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun. It’s been four years since you’ve had a chance to yell at me, so pretend I’m still here. Seems like old times, doesn’t it?”
His voice was so bitter, so hard.
“Are you saying I’m wrong?” she shouted at him. “I’m just stating the facts. You think you’ve got some invisible shield around you. Just like Dev said, you think bullets bounce off you.”
She was becoming hysterical, and her throat was clogging up. She swallowed hard. “Well, look at the scar on your head, Cody. Look at your arm. That bullet didn’t bounce off. What happened to your invisible shield this time?”
“Maybe you’ve put too many cracks in it with your razor-sharp tongue.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the house.
Dana went into the bathroom and ran cold water over her wrists, then splashed her face. She stood there, her dripping hands covering her face, until the back of her throat stopped hurting with the need to cry.
He wasn’t being fair. If he’d stop his one-man crusade to save the world for a minute, he’d see what he was doing to himself and to her.
What had happened to them? Once he’d been her knight in shining armor, strong enough to slay all the dragons. Once he’d thought she was beautiful—gorgeous, he’d said. Once they’d thought love was enough.
How sad to find out that it wasn’t.
She went back into the kitchen and started chopping celery.
CODY WALKED DOWN to the lake and tossed pebbles into the water for a while, until the throbbing in his arm spread up to his shoulder and across his back.
As he idly skipped stones, he casually let his gaze roam over the little swampy inlet. It was isolated, quiet. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. From the deck of the lake house, he’d seen the winding dirt road that led up here. The waters of Lake Pontchartrain stretched off to the horizon, but the trees hid most of the lake house from view, making it a perfect hideout.
After a while, he turned and walked back up the bank to the deck that spanned the front of the little cabin. He sat down on the top step and leaned back against the rail, trying to find a comfortable position for his shoulder. He hated to admit it, but he did feel a little better now that the wounds were stitched up.
He heard Dana in the kitchen, scurrying around like a mouse making its nest. A smile played involuntarily around his mouth.
She was something, all right. So competent, so organized. All that order made him crazy. He shook his head.
But somehow, it was also comforting, like knowing there was a haven he could go to if the world got too chaotic for him. He missed that.
And that wasn’t all he missed. He missed the rosy scent of her hair, the soft swell of her breasts, the cloudy verdure of her eyes when he made love to her. That magical moment when he made it past what he called her point of no return. His body tightened in response to his thoughts. When he got past her veneer of control, she was the sexiest, most gorgeous thing he’d ever touched. He remembered the first time they’d ever made love, right after they met. He’d teased her about her day planner, and written in it make love with Cody. Her slow awakening under his gentle hands had been one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with her. Nothing had ever turned him on more than making love with his wife.
He threw the pebble he’d been toying with, and tried to wipe away the image of her beneath him, mouth parted in anticipation, body quivering in response to him.
Why couldn’t she just accept him for what he was? Even as his brain formed the question, he knew the answer.
They were too different. She had never understood what being a cop meant to him. She’d never taken the responsibility seriously. His father had been a cop, and his grandfather. It was in his blood, it was his heritage. His father had never turned his back on his duty. Cody’s mother had always understood that. She’d waited for her husband, until the day she died, a year before his dad.
Dana had wanted safety and security more than she wanted him. She’d presented him with an impossible choice—his honor or her. He couldn’t give her the kind of safe, bland existence she wanted and remain true to himself. As long as she was with him, she’d never have what she wanted.
How well he knew that.
It had broken his heart earlier, when he saw the sadness in her face as she sat on the bed, clutching the pillow. He knew exactly what she was thinking, why she was bowed with grief. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she’d gotten pregnant that last weekend they were here.
They’d come here to give themselves a chance to patch things up. But they’d argued and bickered the whole weekend, except when they’d made love.
There in the living room, in front of a roaring fire, they’d made a baby. Then less than two months later, while he’d been in surgery having a bullet dug out of his brain, she’d miscarried.
She blamed him. And why not? He blamed himself.
Cody leaned his head back against the deck rail and closed his eyes, trying to drag his thoughts away from hurtful memories.
He heard a cry and a curse from the kitchen.
Chapter Six
Rushing inside, Cody found Dana standing at the kitchen counter, a paring knife in one hand and an onion in the other. The hand holding the onion was bleeding.
She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes.
“Here, chère, let me see.” He took the onion and the knife away from her, then held her finger under cold water. “It’s just a nick. It’ll be fine. I’ll just put a Band-Aid on it.”
She gasped audibly. Cody looked up, afraid he’d hurt her, but she was staring at him, her face crumpling like a child’s, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t cry.”
She strained against his hold. “I’m—not crying,” she said in a small, choked voice. “It’s the onions.”
“Dana,” he whispered softly. “It’s okay to cry, you know. You’ve been through a lot in the last two days. Go ahead.”
“I’m—not—crying.”
He put his hand on the back of her neck and massaged the stiff muscles, his compassion stirred by her determination, her rigid need to remain in control.
“Okay, okay. You’re not crying,” he soothed. “Not crying a bit. Just relax until the onions quit burning your eyes, okay?” He held her, rocking gently from side to side, massaging her neck, until he felt her relax, felt her erratic breathing return to normal.
“That’s it. You’re doing good. Just breathe. Just breathe,” he whispered, sayi
ng anything that came into his head, just talking to calm her down.
She didn’t like to seem vulnerable. She’d never liked to be caught crying over a sentimental movie, or a hurtful remark, or a miscarriage, he thought grimly as he continued to whisper to her. “You’re doing fine, chère. Everything’s going to be all right, just as soon as those onions quit burning.”
It was something else he didn’t understand about her. Didn’t understand, but admired just the same. “You’re doing great. So strong, so good.”
She sniffled quietly. Where had all this rigid strength come from? What in her life had caused her to be so afraid of losing control?
He thought about how odd it was for her to break down like this, but then, it had been a bad week for her, to say the least. And he hadn’t helped any by dragging her into this mess with Fontenot. “It won’t be long,” he murmured, burying his nose in her hair. “They’ll catch Fontenot, then I’ll take you over to your sister’s. You won’t have to put up with me anymore. Okay, chère? You’ll be safe and sound there.”
Dana’s body began to relax against him, and suddenly, Cody found himself reacting. The rosy scent of her hair was filling his nostrils, and the exquisite feel of her molded against him brought to mind some decidedly erotic memories. His fingers slowed to a caress on her nape and he shifted, his jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight.
Dana obviously noticed, because she pulled away, wiping her eyes. “I’ll get that Band-Aid,” she said briskly, with just a hint of tears still in her voice.
Cody smiled at her, tamping down the desire that had caught him unawares. “I’ll finish chopping that onion,” he offered.
She looked up at him, a tremulous smile on her lips. “Thanks.”
Cody pulled his gaze away from the doorway through which she’d gone. That was the first time she’d smiled at him since this whole thing started last night. He picked up the knife and the onion and leaned against the counter, turning them in his hands. He tossed the onion into the air and caught it.
It was nice to see her smile.
DANA DRIED HER HANDS and put a Band-Aid on her nicked finger. How stupid, cutting herself, then crying about it.
Okay, so she wasn’t crying about the cut. She shrugged. She didn’t like to cry. Crying revealed too much, to others and to herself. As long as she didn’t cry, she could stay in control. As long as she didn’t break down, she could keep herself removed from the hurtful parts of life. It was easier that way.
The other way, like the few moments when she’d allowed Cody to comfort her, felt too good. Letting somebody else take the pain was too easy.
Do it very often and you started to depend on them being there to help. Then it hurt even more when they were gone. She knew all about that.
Just like Cody. He’d been so sweet, so considerate. He’d known as well as she did that the problem wasn’t the tiny cut. Thank goodness he hadn’t teased her about it.
Her throat tightened. She loved the sweetness that lay at the heart of him, beneath his tough competence. At one time she’d allowed herself to depend on his sweetness, his strength. She’d trusted in him like she’d not trusted anyone since she was a little girl.
Cody had always treated her with a tender humor that kept her from being too serious. When they first met, she’d thought they complemented each other, kept each other balanced. She’d loved the spontaneous side of him—the dangerous side that was tempered with his sweetness. Through him she could experience excitement and danger, knowing he would keep her safe.
But Cody’s dangerous side had gotten to be too much. She’d lost her confidence in him. She couldn’t be sure he’d be there.
She couldn’t trust him not to die.
She looked in the mirror, at her reddened eyes and her mussed hair. She looked horrible. But then, in the past twenty-four hours she’d patched up a bleeding ex-husband, been almost blown up in her own car, and whisked away to a hideout. All in all, not a typical way to start a weekend.
“Humph.” The faint light of a smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “I must be nuts to think this is funny,” she muttered. Gallows humor was more Cody’s style. She splashed water on her face, then went back into the kitchen.
Cody had dished up the salad and toasted the bread. They ate and then washed the dishes together, polite and a little distracted, like casual acquaintances forced together by circumstance.
After drinking two glasses of wine with dinner, Dana was overwhelmingly drowsy.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” she said, then suddenly roused a bit as she thought about the implications. A faint wave of anticipation rippled through her, taking her by surprise. She pushed away memories of the two of them, legs tangled, breathless with love and laughter, in that bed.
They were here for one reason only, because Captain Hamilton had given Cody an order.
“I mean—where am I going to sleep?” She looked at Cody, who was smiling crookedly at her.
“You take the bedroom,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“But what about your arm?” she protested quickly. “Why don’t you take the bedroom and I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s comfortable enough.”
“I doubt I’ll sleep very well, anyway. I want to stay out here and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. You go ahead.”
“But you can’t stay awake all night. You need your rest.”
“I’ll be fine, Dana. You’re exhausted. Go on.”
Dana looked at his pale face, his pinched mouth, and started to protest again.
“I mean it, Dana. You take the bedroom.”
She knew that tone. He’d made up his mind and if she insisted she’d only make him angry. “Okay, sir,” she said with a mock salute. “Understood.”
She was rewarded with his angelic grin. Giving him back a wan smile, she escaped into the bedroom and pushed the door to without latching it.
As she tried to go to sleep, Cody’s beautiful smile haunted her. How sweet he’d been when she cut herself. How strong and warm his arms had felt around her. How familiar his growing desire had felt against her.
A warm, tingly yearning began inside her. He’d always been able to slip behind her defenses when he made love to her, many times right here in this bed. A quiet moan escaped her lips as the yearning sharpened and deepened.
Stop it. She turned over and doubled the pillow under her head. She had to stop thinking about him if she was going to get any sleep.
It was probably natural to have some leftover erotic thoughts of her husband, she reassured herself. After all, they’d been married for two years.
And now, here they were, forced together by something beyond their control. Naturally some pleasant memories were bound to surface along with the unpleasant ones. They didn’t mean anything, though. She couldn’t afford to let them mean anything. They were divorced. That part of her life was over.
The good times weren’t good enough to make up for the bad. Dana repeated that sentence like a mantra as she scrunched her shoulders and drew her legs up, concentrating on going to sleep.
CODY SAT UP FAR INTO the night, drinking wine. His arm throbbed a little less as he got closer to the end of the bottle. He considered opening a second bottle, but decided against it. They were in danger. He couldn’t afford to forget that for a second.
Stretched out on the couch in the dark, he could see the lake through the glass doors. He liked watching Lake Pontchartrain at night. With the moonlight glinting off its surface it looked like an eerily calm ocean, with barely a ripple disturbing the glassy smoothness of the water.
It was deceiving. Smooth and stable on the surface, but teeming with life and danger below, like the alligators that lurked just under the surface, their rough hides making them look like floating logs.
He dozed off to sleep listening to the crickets and frogs and the occasional ominous grunt of a gator.
The car exploded into flames. Cody screamed as the hot fire engulfed Dana. He could see her, a
black silhouette surrounded by yellow-and-red flames, writhing in the inferno. No! Oh, God, Dana!
He jerked awake. Sitting up, he pushed his hands through his hair as he struggled to catch his breath.
It was just a dream. A nightmare. They’d been flashbulbs, not a bomb.
His heart finally quit pounding like a jackhammer against his chest wall. Fontenot was diabolical, the way he rigged his booby traps. The man was a genius, a sociopath whose intelligence was only surpassed by his cruelty.
Cody had seen the cat the fiend had strung up over his estranged wife’s bed, perfectly positioned so that the blood dripped down onto the woman’s pillow. He’d done it because she wouldn’t go back to him. Then he’d filled her refrigerator with snakes. They hadn’t been able to get a conviction for murder, even though the wife had died. Heart attack, the coroner said.
It was ironic. If Cody hadn’t been so determined to prove that Fontenot had murdered his wife, Fontenot wouldn’t have shot Cody. And if Fontenot hadn’t shot Cody, he and Dana might still be married, might even have a child. They might be safe.
Cody’s mouth was dry. He got a glass of water and walked out onto the deck. The moon was setting, and a faint glow began in the east. He drained the glass and sat down on the top step.
Fontenot had rigged flashbulbs to the ignition switch of Dana’s car, in less than ten minutes with a swarm of police around.
Suddenly Cody’s hands shook. He leaned his elbows on his knees and pushed his fingers through his hair.
Pictures of Dana flashed through his mind, one after another, as if lit by the firing flashbulbs.
Dana drinking coffee, her hair tangled and her eyes hazy with sleep.
Dana emerging from the water, glistening drops shining on the tops of her creamy white breasts.
Dana, staring up at him with tears in her eyes as he told her everything was all right, knowing all the while he was lying, and knowing she knew it.
