Dax licks his lips. “We have intel you want, Cody. I know where he is. We’ve got a tracker on him.” The smile falls from my face and appears on his.
“Where is he?” I can’t help it. I ask even knowing what the cost will be. The SEALs surely have intel I don’t quite have yet. He’s not lying and that makes every fiber in my being squeeze with anticipation. No more hunting. I could be done with V forever. We’ve had leads during the past weeks and then we lost him. There’s no telling where he’s at. I’m worried for Lainey. “Tell me.”
Dax’s smile grows. “You already know what I want in exchange.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “Blackmail? Really? And with Lainey? Even I couldn’t convince her that you’re the right man for her. Because you aren’t.” Harsh truths never killed anyone. I have, though, and so has Dax.
Dax starts pacing again. This time it’s not as calculated, he’s erratic. He was right about the level of his desperation. He could lose his job over this, possibly even face prison time if it’s spun the right way. Christ, he could lose his life. I have to respect that. I remember being an upstanding man. How difficult and demanding walking the straight and narrow was. He’s cracking. For love. For Lainey.
“You tell me where V is and you get Lainey? That’s the deal then?” I confirm, walking up behind him to stop his irritating walk. My floors are new. He’s fucking them up.
A bead of sweat slides down his temple. The wall clock ticks away seconds that sound like hours. The blood in my body whooshes with desire to kill. Retribution will be mine. Can I make this sacrifice? My happiness forever gone in exchange for V’s life snuffed? There’s no choice, really.
“She has to believe that you don’t want her, that I’m better for her. That’s the deal,” Dax says, voice rising. That will be easier said than done. She’s keen. Sharp. Lainey knows me well. I close my eyes, wincing at the image of her when I tell her bold faced lies that she will take at face value because of her emotional vulnerability. My hands on my hips I glance at my desk and the stupid plastic dancing flower she gave me. I walk over and swipe it off my desk and into the wall. I swear under my breath and lean over my desk, placing my palms down.
Hanging my head, I say, “Give me The Hamptons first.” It’s not a question.
Dax’s silence lets me know he’s considering. “Fine. I’ll send over the information as soon as you return. And, Cody? She can never know.” My heart is pumping so hard I can barely breathe.
“Yeah,” I agree. If she found out about this she would kill him and be crushed by my decision. Just as she can’t know about our deal, neither of them can know why I’m accepting it. He’s clueless.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I whisper.
Dax, standing a few inches shorter than me, approaches. “Is that any way to treat the person who saved your life?” Dax smiles meanly. I don’t owe him anything. “Nice doing business with you. Maybe the next time I kiss my fiancée she won’t taste like revenge.”
I can’t help it. I really can’t. I break his pretty fucking nose with my fist.
“She won’t. But her lips will taste like my dick,” I say, walking out of my office and closing the door. I’ll give him the courtesy of privacy while he pulls his shit together and then proceeds to be wrapped up in my girl’s arms. The acrid tasting vomit rises from my stomach and I barely make it to the bathroom in time.
It doesn’t take three years for things and people to change. Sometimes all it takes is one second—a second in which everything shifts.
Including hearts.
_______________
If I had three words to describe my years in captivity they would be pain, darkness, and blood—heavy on the pain, and not just the physical kind. Psychologically it messed with every neuron in my fucking brain. I’m not sure how much time passed before I accepted that it was my new life. I contemplated offing myself, but V and his men rarely gave me the means or the opportunity, watching me like a hawk and draining me of all excess energy. Sure, there were days when I was released from my cell, but those days didn’t come until the end, when they were sure I was fucked up in the head enough to not want to run, or fight. Then there was the fake video that I helped make showing my death. They sent it to the U.S. media as proof that I was a goner. I made sure that video was perfect. It was a tech job similar to what I used to do for a living. Its perfection is what ensured that everyone would stop looking for me. Figuring that would be the best outcome for all involved, I worked tirelessly. When V was happy with it and was sure there were no sneaky concealed messages within, he sent it to Lainey first. It was relief and heartache at the same time. When SEALs came to rescue me, I wasn’t expecting it. It was surreal and attached was a dreamlike quality.
I wonder how quickly I can do three thousand push-ups. Six million sit-ups? How many drips would pass? The drip of water in the corner of my room is steady. It falls from a cracked, black stone in the ceiling. It’s lulling like a clock ticking or a fan blowing. The first six months the sounds of the tiny splashes of water made me murderous. It comforts me now. It’s time passing, bringing me closer to death and whatever comes after that. They brought someone else in last night. He’s wailing down the hall and I really wish he would shut the fuck up. It’s making me lose count. I’ve been able to calculate a formula for figuring out how many days pass by the drips and the guard schedule.
“Dinner, X?” my current guard asks, interrupting my count. They’ve distanced me from my real name in an attempt to convert me to their beliefs. V knows that will never happen, but still insists that I respond to the one lettered moniker. From my small bed in the corner I reply that I am indeed hungry. Hopefully he’ll bring me the good food—what the guards eat, not the slop they give the rest of us. He saunters off to the above ground kitchen and I hear him strike the wailing asshole down the hall on his way by. At least I get preferential treatment after all these years. It could always be worse, Cody. My name sounds foreign in my own mind. At this point it’s a romantic notion, really.
Three hundred and sixty-two drips before my guard gets back with the good meal. I open the door to my cell when I hear footsteps approaching. They don’t lock me in anymore. Where would I go? When I peer down the stone-walled corridor, it’s not the guard I see, it’s red sight dots glowing and black figures shifting toward me. Fear escalates into something larger as my stomach drops. Familiarity washes over me, but I still can’t connect the dots. I’m too damaged, lost.
One of the gun wielding men yells, “Get down!” I hit my knees. This is it. Someone will finally put me out of this misery, I think. Death is mine. It’s mine. Mine. How many more drips will it take? How accurate can my count be? The shackles around my ankles and wrists prevent me from surrendering fully, but I’m compliant as they approach the screaming asshole first and then me. I recognize a voice—it’s one from my old life.
“Cody. Cody, is that really you? Cody?” Steve says, his voice muffled. These men aren’t here to kill me. They’re here to save me. These are my brothers. The motherfucking SEALs have finally arrived. How did they know? Thirty-two more drips. I can’t respond.
“There’s no fucking way. No way,” another SEAL says, his gear weighing him down. “How is this possible?” I’m wondering the same thing. Being rescued from this dank dungeon was never a possibility I considered. Why should I? I died when that video released to the world. The SEAL I don’t recognize comes and kneels in front of me, squinting his eyes as he examines me. A bead of sweat rolls down his face and drips onto his radio. I count that one, too.
Another man I recognize. “It’s him, Dax,” Maverick Hart, SEAL extraordinaire, says to the man in front of me. “We need to get him the fuck out of here quick. That little shit rat upstairs said other guards would be here soon.” Gunfire lights the air, screams and shouts litter my cold, dark air, and I lose my fucking count. Logically I know what will happen next, they are going by the textbook, but I can’t move. The one they call Dax snaps th
e shackles off. He keeps looking at me oddly.
My first word. “V,” I whisper. He hears me over the commotion.
Dax nods. “We’ll get him.” My heart sinks. He’s alive. I’ll never be truly free until he’s a rotting piece of flesh and broken bones. He shakes his head as he helps me to my feet. “How?” he says, placing his hands on my dirty shoulders. I flinch. “No,” he mutters sadly. “No.” He hands me a jacket from his pack and a pair of boots…things I haven’t had since I was stolen from my life.
I shrug, not knowing what he wants or what he’s asking. He guides me out of my prison and into the light and safety of a waiting chopper and then a secure base. The men overwhelm me with a bunch of questions I’m unsure how to answer. Confusion and disbelief war with hope. I only have one question for them before they leave me to myself for the night.
“Lainey?” I ask Maverick.
He smiles, but it fades quickly. He glances behind him and meets Dax’s laser gaze, but turns back to me. “She’s great, Cody. Lainey is well. Get some rest, dude. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
That’s enough for now. I curl up on the bed in medical and my head is met with a soft pillow. For the first time since V fucked up my world, I let myself plan a future. The drips that fall into my IV line hydrating my body help me think clearly. It only takes six hundred drips for me to know exactly what my purpose in life will be.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Revenge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lainey
WAITING FOR MY trip away with Cody is torture. When I spoke with Dax regarding how I was feeling about our relationship and the wedding, he freaked the fuck out. I expected that. Then he went to Cody’s house at six in the goddamned morning for reasons I’ll never know. I didn’t expect that. The outcome? I know every gory detail. Dax texted me a photo of his broken, bloody nose while I was in a morning meeting with a client. We happened to be selecting high-end living room furniture when I glanced at my phone. I felt horrible for him. Then I got angry because he was obviously using it for sympathy and to show me how ‘bad’ Cody is. Something Cody knows and Dax doesn’t is that I can read between the lines better than anyone I know. Don’t ever play mind games with a woman like me. It’s the first time Dax has shown me such an unflattering side to his personality. In my defense, I tried to break it off fully right then and there. Our relationship, our wedding—cut ties completely. I owe him that even if he is game playing. He refused. Dax said I was confused and that I needed more time to sort through my feelings.
More time to fall more deeply in love with Cody? That’s what Dax is giving me. How do I explain that without sounding like a jerk, though? Cody’s work schedule was hectic leading up to our trip, so I was surprised when I got home from a work coffee meeting mid-morning to find a gift on the table in my entryway. Chloe stopped by to help me pack for the weekend and I said my dreary goodbyes to Dax last night.
“Shiny package,” Chloe rasps, grabbing the black box off the marble surface. “What’s inside?” She fakes that she’s going to open it, but tosses it to me instead. I catch the small package easily. My first guess is jewelry. It’s not from a store I recognize. “Your vagina must be made of solid gold. Or maybe diamonds. Not sharp ones, though. I’ve never seen men act like this over one woman before. Can I see it? Show me the goods. Your pussy, not the bauble. That’s got me curious like whoa.”
I sigh, shaking my head at my friend. “It’s too early for that. My vagina is staying in my panties…for now. Dax and Cody aren’t acting any weird way. The circumstances are, well…they’re different for us. I tried to do the honorable thing. Dax prefers scandal. Obviously. I just don’t see how breaking up with him later as opposed to sooner isn’t in everyone’s best interest. I’m not sure where his mind is at.” I contemplate things from his perspective for a few moments as I toss the package from one hand to the other. It makes little sense. My feelings for Cody are so evident that it makes me sick thinking I’m engaged to be married to a different man. “Go start finding me stuff to wear. I’ll order lunch in,” I say. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you catch a glimpse of Katrina before I jump in the shower.” She laughs. I laugh and Chloe saunters off, shaking her head. It’s hard to find a best friend who gets your disgusting humor without flinching.
The tiny gray card reads, “Wear this so I’ll know...” Know what? I slide my finger under the fold of black wrapping paper and open the velvet box that hides inside. It’s a bracelet—delicate in form, shiny, with larger teardrop diamonds hanging every few inches. It’s rose gold and utterly stunning. I forget about the ominous message on the card as I fasten it around my left wrist. Cody’s tastes are exquisite. My engagement ring, riding high only a couple inches above the bracelet, won’t do. I slide it off and head to my room to secure it in my jewelry box. I tell myself it’s for safekeeping, not because I never plan on wearing it again. “I tried,” I say aloud. I really did. The front door opens and slams. Chloe giggles from her seat in the center of my bed.
“I told Morganna to come over,” she says, raising the magazine she’s reading directly in front of her face. Our bull-nosed friend has an opinion about everything. I’m sure she’ll have a lot to say about my current predicament.
I groan. “You told her, didn’t you?” Morganna is an attorney who is married to a SEAL. This is either going to go one of two ways.
I look at the ceiling and pray. Morganna saunters in, a knowing smile on her face. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Cocking my head, I meet her gaze. “You’re not my mother, Morg.”
She clucks her tongue. “You’re right. I wouldn’t accept this behavior from my child. What you’re doing to Dax is hideous. The poor man kept my husband out until three a.m. He was crying into his bourbon with a crooked nose.” Okay, so it’s going that way.
Goosebumps prickle my skin. “He wouldn’t let me call off the wedding yet. What should I do? Wait, better yet…what would you have done in my predicament?” Morganna lost her first husband, also a SEAL, to a tragic accident during a deployment. She remarried Steve, another SEAL, and now lives happily ever after. “What if Stone came back before you married Steve?” Not many people are brave enough to bring up his name in casual conversation. I’m one of the few who can get away with it.
I watch Morganna swallow. It forces her to raise her chin. Chloe hops off the bed and busies herself in my kitchen, because honestly, who really wants to be in this conversation. I’m sure she didn’t know what she was doing when she invited Morg over. Morganna turns her face toward the window facing the ocean. “I don’t know what I would have done.” Her hundred yard stare grows sad.
“Exactly,” I mutter. Lightly I pull on one of the diamonds on my new bracelet. “I loved Cody first. The reminder of his love haunted me when he was gone. What do you think it does now that he’s here? In front of me, touching me, holding me, kissing me, loving me? I’m coming apart at the seams, Morganna. Dax’s love saved me from being haunted. It’s real now. I don’t need saving. I know how selfish and awful that sounds, but even Dax wouldn’t accept that as a reason to call off the wedding. He’s being odd lately. He knows where my heart and mind are, yet he’s holding out failing hope.” The diamonds on my wrist catch the sun and cause a rainbow to shine against the wall.
She sees the colors and follows them back to my wrist with her gaze. “Of course,” Morganna says, voice clipped. “You’re in a position most can only dream of. Difficult, yes, but lucky still the same.” She traces my wrist with her fingertip. I wince when I think of what Morganna went through when Stone died. It’s hard not to dwell on the awful. She has a beautiful, full life now, but she carries her losses well. Interrupting my thoughts, she asks, “It’s pretty. New?”
“Yes. He’ll be here any moment to pick me up for a few days. Chloe was supposed to help me pack and give me an illustrated sex talk, I’m sure.” Morganna laughs and goes through a stack of bl
ouses I have on the bed, unfolding and refolding a different way.
“You don’t need clothes. I think that’s the obvious answer. Pack a toothbrush and your stamina,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. Her demeanor changes completely now. “He hasn’t gotten laid in a while,” Morganna explains. I laugh, but the joke causes my stomach to flutter. Am I truly the last person he’s made love to? “When you get home from your trip you really need to deal with Dax, though.”
I promise to give it my best effort and we talk a little more about her son and Steve, her horses, and how busy she is with a toddler and her law career. I tell her about several of my design clients and how my mother is going to have a fit over the cancelled wedding. She laments, tells me she’ll help me get deposits back if I really want, and then tells me a funny story about her and our friend Windsor. Morganna walked in on her getting her bikini line waxed on a dining room table the night she planned on doing the deed. I obviously reject Morganna’s offer to do the same for me. I took care of that a few days ago, like you’re supposed to, not the day of. We make our way into the living area to find Chloe waiting patiently for us with a teakettle whistling in the kitchen.
Morganna leans back into the sofa and takes the tea Chloe offers. I make myself a cup and begin pacing. Do I want my friends here when Cody arrives? Will that be awkward because they’ve been used to seeing me with Dax? I know Morganna’s torn about what I’m doing with both of these men.
“Oh, by the way,” Morganna says over her shoulder. “I finally sold the house next door. An investment group bought it. Hopefully tenants from hell don’t move in and throw eggs at your expensive front door.” We all laugh and then Chloe starts chattering away about Morganna’s shoes. Hm. That’s news. Pulling my gauzy curtains aside, I peek out to catch a glimpse of Morganna’s old mansion. She’s taken care of it, so it looks the same as it did before she moved out. It’s a touch larger than my own house, with floor-to-ceiling windows that peer out in all directions. If someone were standing in the upstairs living area, they’d see me right now. I shiver.
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 66