“You’ve got this. It’s like meeting a stranger. He’s not your Cody. This is completely innocent.” Maybe if I repeat this a million times I’ll begin to believe it. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough time in the world. When I told Dax my plans he looked at me like I was crazy. That crazy slowly morphed into sadness when he realized I was serious. I’ve always told him I had no desire to go back in time. Heartache. It’s all I feel when I think about Cody Ridge and what could have been. I shocked myself when I came to this conclusion and called Cody last night. Because Dax is a great man, he told me to do what I needed to do. Reasoning with me after I’ve made my mind up isn’t an option. He kissed me a little longer than he usually does when I left this morning. I felt it, then—his hesitance to let me go. That small act only made me even more nervous. If he’s hesitant, and he trusts me implicitly, how the hell do I trust myself? Dax is my support system, fully, but right now there’s nothing he can say that will make me feel better. I have to fix this for myself.
Grabbing my bag and locking my car door, I head out of the garage into the heat and bustle of Manhattan. With a quick glance left and right to make sure Cody isn’t near, I set off for the restaurant. It’s an odd thing to be hidden by people. Humans are everywhere, but no one sees past their own egocentric bubble—smartphones in every hand, most texting, some chatting, all ignoring the people next to them.
Then I see him. Cody is looking directly at me, standing shock still in the middle of the sidewalk. People move around him like he’s a statue or some mildly inconveniencing construction sign. No one sees me either. The rest of civilization melts away.
We only see each other.
There’s no making sense of my feelings. I feel everything—the humid breeze prickling the sweaty skin on the back of my neck, the adrenaline pulsing through my veins so thick that it’s almost too much to bear. The sight of him walking toward me is the same view I’ve had in my dreams. It’s always the same. Except the Cody in my dreams was make-believe…a ghost, and this man approaching now is real. He looks older, wiser. He looks broken in a way I know will never be repairable. He looks the same, yet different—challenged, yet privileged. I know this man in every way.
Cody squints his eyes, almost like it pains him to see me, but I see such emotion pouring from his simple gesture that it literally brings me to my knees, out of breath and panting. Tears trickle down my face, a slow assault on my willpower, and his pace falters. He stops. He’s examining me, the new Lainey—the person who was born after his death. The woman he knew is gone. The problem with that is I still have her heart. It races along, thumping jaggedly for the man I love. For the man I thought was forever gone; for the man I now have no right to. Cody takes a few more steps until he’s at arm’s length away. Looking down at me, I look up at him. A smile. That smile breaks across his face as he extends his hand to me.
“Trip on your laces, Fast Lane?” he says. “Let me help you up.”
Taking his offered hand makes me realize I didn’t feel everything a moment ago. I feel everything right now. My hand actually tingles where it’s pressed against his. “Cody.” Wobbling on my heels, I stand to face him, still basically hyperventilating. His white smile assaults me and I can’t help it. I let my eyes wander to the rest of him.
Shaking my head, I say, “You’re alive.” And he’s so handsome I could crumple into myself and weep. He keeps his hair a little longer than he used to. My fingers would have something to clutch. His face looks the same. Perhaps the little lines around his eyes have deepened, but they only add to his overall appeal. I can’t see his muscles, as they’re covered in a blue button-up linen shirt, but they look like they are all still bulging and textbook perfect. I notice a tattoo peeking from his rolled up sleeves. That’s something new.
Ignoring my obvious appraisal, his grin widens. “You’re alive!” he counters. Taking my other hand in his, he studies me closer. I want to know what he thinks of me after all this time. Knowing full well I have no right to know and definitely no right to ask.
“You look beautiful, Lainey.”
“Are you some kind of mind reader?”
“No. I’m just skilled at reading yours.” He drops my hands and his thick, tanned neck works as he swallows. He’s just as affected by seeing me. A fact that suddenly makes me feel ill. “And right now I’m thinking we should get into the restaurant. You skinned your knee when you tripped on your shoelaces.”
Sure as shit, I have blood trickling down my shin. “Great. I’ll probably contract some virulent disease.” When I look up at him his eyes are darting around, and I can tell he’s trying to solve something.
He runs a hand through his hair. “My place is just over there if you want to get cleaned up before lunch?” He nods to a beautiful high-rise building a few blocks over. My eyes widen. There’s no way. I selected this restaurant because it’s close to my fabric store. I had no idea this is where he lives.
He laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re not surprised I have an apartment in this neighborhood, so I’m going to assume you don’t want to be alone in said apartment with me? You have nothing to worry about, Lainey.”
My heart bangs against my chest. I’m not sure if it’s fear or adrenaline, but I can’t concentrate on anything except the rhythm it’s beating. Cody is right in front of me right now. “I’m not worried,” I bark out, indignant that he can really read my fucking mind.
“I have antibacterial ointment,” he says in a singsong voice. Damn it. Something he knows about me. I rub that shit on everything. This cut on my leg needs a whole tube.
I squint my eyes at him. “Fine. Only because even you can agree this needs antibacterial ointment. I must really need it. We’re just going to talk. I suppose we can do that anywhere.” He laughs, the baritone sounds sending shockwaves to my core. God, I’ve missed him.
Cody quirks a brow. “Of course we’re just going to talk. What else would we do?” Someone bumps into me, rousing me into awareness. In that mere second, a million things I would do with him run through my mind. All things I can’t do. Not anymore, at least. None of them require clothing.
I lick my lips. “Right. Right. Of course. Let’s go,” I agree, even though I see carnal desires reflected in his eyes. We’re on the exact same page. Same fucking word. He leads me through the crowds, his large presence forcing people to move without saying a word. We cross the street and I watch every step Cody takes. His gait is the same. The sweet smile he aims my way every few minutes is in the exact form it was before he…died. The doorman smiles and nods his head at Cody. “Mr. Ridge,” he says, opening the ornate entry to the building.
Cody ushers me in first. “Mr. Ridge?” I ask, lifting one brow.
He merely shrugs and heads toward the elevator. We stare at each other for the entire ride up to the top. Me trying to dispel every thought I’ve had about Cody for the past three years and him probably trying to analyze me. Why, after all this time, I want to see him? How to explain that this wasn’t something I wanted? I needed to see him in the flesh.
The elevator doors open into a cool, large hallway. His apartment is the one all the way at the end, overlooking the expanse of Central Park. It’s gorgeous and large. It’s lonely. “I’ll go grab your special potion. Make yourself at home,” Cody says, disappearing down a dark hallway. Palms sweaty, I fish for my cell phone in my purse. No missed calls or texts. My hands shake as I take off the quilted cross-body bag and hang it on the coat rack by his door. I see his old leather jacket. The one he wore when he rode his motorcycle. How did he get this? I remember slamming my arms into the sleeves of this jacket a million times. The familiar smell that made me melt and feel completely safe at the same time.
“Horse saved it,” Cody whispers from behind me. I startle, my hand holding the buttery soft leather falling to my side. “Who knows why. It’s not like the beast can wear it.” He chuckles softly.
“Why would anyone save anything?” I ask, a little irritated. Of course I would
have saved everything if I knew he was still alive. I. Buried. Him.
Cody gestures to the couch and holds up the tube of ointment and a package of anti-bacterial wipes. “You’ll have to ask him,” he says. “I wouldn’t have saved any of your things either. Don’t beat yourself up. Rising from the dead is apparently one of my better talents. Most people don’t have that one.” He winks. I grin uneasily.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, I hold my hand out for the supplies. There is no way he can touch me. After merely holding his hand, I can barely stand the thought of his hands on my body. A shiver runs down my spine and there’s no controlling the response. I shake. Cody takes a seat on the ottoman in front of me, a good three feet away. A safe distance. A safe distance would be Antarctica, I think.
Cleaning my cut with a wipe and smearing ointment on, I realize it’s just a surface scrape. Thank God. I won’t die of flesh eating bacteria today. While I’m pondering, Cody doesn’t take his eyes off me. I feel his piercing gaze urging me to talk.
Sighing, I look from my gross wound to his beautiful, searching eyes and swallow the thick lump in my throat. Cody’s gaze trails down to my neck. “This is a pretty large place for just you,” I say, feigning nonchalance to take the edge off. “It’s beautiful.” It really is. I can tell he decorated it himself, though. If I had my way, it would be much warmer. Cool is a bachelor’s pad, which he is.
His blue gaze stays steely, but a corner of his mouth turns up. “I like it. It’s more comfortable than my other places.” More than one place? I know business is booming for him, but I don’t know particulars. A year or so has passed since he was rescued. He’s accomplished a lot in that time frame. I’ve tried to steer clear of anything that reminded me of Cody Ridge. Until now.
I look at the large window. It spans from floor to ceiling and has the most beautiful view. “I guess it would be,” I remark.
“Lainey.” My name is a question. A praise. It packs so much in two syllables. Only he is capable of making me feel so much with a single word.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what I thought would happen. I figured you would be different, Cody. That I would finally be able to look you in the eye and say it’s over, but how is that possible? Tell me how is that possible, damn it! He’s a good man. A good man,” I say, turning my face down to the teak hardwood. Dax. It’s the first time I’ve thought about him since seeing Cody. Just thinking his name makes me ill with guilt. “I waited for so long. You were dead and still I waited. And now it’s obvious why I was giving myself ulcers about moving on. Call it woman’s intuition, but maybe subconsciously I knew you were alive.” I gesture to him and his very alive body. “Dax is a good man,” I repeat.
Cody lets out a long breath. “Of course he is. I wouldn’t expect anything less if you’re in love with him.” His statement is so casual, but a quick glance up and I know it’s anything but. “I am different. I am changed. Time passed and I lost you because of that. Change is the one thing you can’t predict nor control. I can respect change. I think it’s obvious you want closure with me before you marry him. It’s yours. Take it.” He leans over, taking both of my hands in his. Mine are shaking and his are solid and warm. “I’ll love you always, Fast Lane. Things are different now. Go be with him. We’ll start over. As friends.” Lie. Lie. Lie. He can’t be my friend. I can’t be his. We never broke up. Our love never died. “This is the life I wanted for you while I was captive—for you to be happy with someone else.” My hands shake even more until I feel the tremors moving up to my arms. In the next moment he’s pulling me into him, hugging me so effortlessly that I’m reminded of home. I don’t fight it, actually quite the opposite. I lean into his broad chest and press my face against his shirt. He smells like the same cologne he always wore. It’s the same cologne I sprayed on my pillowcase for a year after he died. My tears would mix with the scent and it would cling to my face for a full twelve hours. I inhale deeply.
“I missed you,” I whisper. His arms fold around me. “I’m sorry.”
He ignores my apology. Cody never did do apologies well. “Does this make it easier?” Cody asks, his lips pressed against the top of my head. “Will it be easier for you to move on now?”
I pull back and look at him. He hums with life and everything else that makes him so precious. Running my hand over the side of his face, he closes his eyes. I look back at the huge window and think of Dax: my perfect, trusting fiancé who is my pillar. I can’t hurt him. There’s no way I’ll hurt him. “Yes,” I lie.
“This is just what I need.” Truth.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cody
A SUNFLOWER WILL always turn its face toward the sun. It’s called heliotropism. During my years in captivity I wasn’t granted much sunlight in my dank dungeon cell, but you can bet my mind was always turned to one thing. Her. Now that I’ve had another small taste of Lainey, I can’t turn away from my sun. It’s an impossibility. Seeing her was a mistake. One I’m glad I made because I knew from the first moment she laid eyes on me that it wasn’t over. Quite the opposite. Lainey Rosemont is still fucking in love with me. She’s in love with me. This is what I think of as I work in this dank, oppressive basement that smells of sixty-year-old rust and stale cigarettes.
I wrench the greaseball’s head to the side, exposing his sweaty neck. “I will slit your fucking throat. Tell me,” I order, my voice quiet—stern. There’s rarely screaming in my job. If there is, I’m not the one doing it. This bastard has information I want. Horse told me so. “Where is V, asshole?” There aren’t very many tactful ways to get the information you want these days. Men, especially bad men, only respond to violence and typically they need to be within an inch of losing their lives to come clean. This asshole wants to be within an inch of it. Idiot.
He sputters and whimpers. I release my grip a touch to give him some incentive to speak. “I don’t know. They don’t tell me,” he gasps in broken English. Pressing the tip of my knife harder, I pierce his skin. “I’m nobody. They don’t tell me where they travel!” His words are erratic now. I’m getting closer. This may be a truth. The men responsible for holding me hostage were many. The ring leader, V, was never around. Especially at night. He would have the lowly pee-ons guard my cell. Nighttime is when the shit always hits the fan. Always.
I grunt. Thinking about V makes me angry. “Well, if you don’t know where he or his counsel is, fine. Maybe you can tell me why you have a basement full of underage children, then?” I press the knife in deeper until a stream of blood trickles down his neck, soiling the collar of his fake Armani dress shirt.
“I don’t know!” He shits his pants. Perfect, now he has yellow pit stains and crap on his trousers.
I cock my head to the side and spread my legs wider so I don’t dirty my own pants. “Now, that’s a fucking lie.” I spoke with an older child. I know the truth. This asshole is up to his eyeballs in trouble. Not only does he have ties to V and the counsel, but he runs one of the largest child trafficking rings in Mexico. He makes me sick. With a gloved hand I insert my pointer finger into the side of his eye socket and press with just the right amount of pressure. He feels it.
“He’s not in Africa anymore!” greaseball screams out as another violent shudder alerts me to more shit exiting his filthy body. “That’s all I know. He’s back in the States. Please, please. Let me go!” Not a chance in fiery hell, you sick prick.
I shudder. The motherfucker is back in the States. He’s too close. I shake my head. No, this won’t do. He’s supposed to stay far, far away. I’m to go to him. This makes V easier to hunt, but it forces the stakes higher. He’s in my world now. I loosen my grip on the knife. “Why is he in the States?” I already know the answer. I’m not scared.
“He said he’s making good on promises.” Greaseball chokes on his own spit and starts shaking violently. Shock is setting in. I’d love nothing more than to slit his throat and watch every ounce of his dirty, tainted blood spill onto the floor. But he deserves a f
ate worse than that, so I radio for my men to come. He needs to be tried inside the U.S. for his crimes. I’ll make sure of it. Child rapists and traffickers don’t fare well in prison. I expect he’ll pray my blade stole his life instead. I remove my finger from his eye socket.
Horse and Van come down the filthy hallway and scan the surrounding area. I nod toward the back where there is a set of large, rusty metal doors. “Kids are back there. Some look to be American. All ages,” I say, closing my eyes to force out the image of what these poor children had to endure. “Get them out of here. Some need clothing. All will need food.” Horse glares at greaseball as if he is solely responsible for every crime on earth. He wants to break his neck and pick his teeth with his pinky bone. If there’s one thing Horse hates, it’s men like greaseball. Offenses against children are always the worst. Unforgivable. Van heads for the double doors and radios for more help. I see him shake his head sadly as he enters and witnesses the atrocity for himself.
I point at my bleeding, shitting companion with my bloody knife. “As for him…transport him back to U.S. soil and hand him over to the authorities. They’ve wanted his ass for a while,” I growl. “And, Horse?” He looks at me with his bright, angry eyes and raises a bushy brow.
“I won’t kill him,” he replies, smiling. I nod once.
“Alive,” I command, just to be sure. And with that simple word, greaseball starts wailing. Horse grabs him by his neck and drags him toward the exit. I smile, sling my hand to my hip, and admire the beauty of this moment. One truly hideous criminal is out of the world, hopefully the kids will be reunited with their families, and I’ve obtained information about V. Troubling information about V, but at least now I know. I can prepare, be watchful…I can plan. I love my job.
I pull out my untraceable satellite phone and call Molly. She picks up on the first ring. “How’d it go, boss?”
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 61