The Lawman Who Loved Her

by Mallory Kane

  “Feel the wire? Hear the hammer click? Why did you get shot?” She regretted asking the questions as soon as they were out of her mouth, because she already knew the answer. She closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears that were burning in her throat from escaping.

  When Cody spoke, his voice was soft, reluctant. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about something else.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cody’s words rang in her ears until she wanted to cover them with her hands.

  I was thinking about something else.

  “You were thinking about my earring.” Her head down, her eyes closed, she didn’t even realize she’d spoken aloud until after she’d finished. She’d known it when she’d seen the booby trap at his apartment. His words confirmed it.

  She lifted her head and looked at him, and knew with the instinctive knowledge of lovers that he was thinking the same thing she was. They never should have gotten into this conversation. It revealed too much about both of them.

  He dropped his gaze, whirled around and slammed out of the house. Dana stood in the middle of the floor staring after him for a long time after he disappeared down the deck steps.

  His words echoed around her. Remorse, sharp and stinging, streaked through her. He’d almost gotten killed because he was thinking about her. The tears she’d been trying to hold back pricked her eyes.

  “Oh, God.” She blinked furiously and looked around, desperate for something to stop her thoughts.

  Without really thinking about what she was doing, she pulled sandwich stuff and cold drinks out of the refrigerator. She couldn’t dwell on what might have happened, what might still happen. She couldn’t get caught up again in worrying about Cody every second of every day.

  Right now she had other things to worry about. She had to worry about her sister and herself, and endure this uncertainty until the police caught Fontenot and she could get back to her normal, boring life.

  She slapped meat and cheese between slices of bread and wrapped them hastily in plastic wrap. Then she grabbed a couple of oranges and stuffed them and the sandwiches and the drinks in a snack-size cooler.

  After changing into a swimsuit and tossing sunscreen, bug repellent and a can of wasp spray into a bag, she stepped out into the sun and headed down to the lake the way Cody had gone.

  FONTENOT LAID THE SMALL dried fish on the back seat of the rental car. It had taken him a long time to find a herring, and he wasn’t pleased that it was dried. He’d have preferred it fresh.

  “One makes do,” he muttered as he dusted his hands together fastidiously. “One makes do.” He closed the car door carefully, so the fish wouldn’t be disturbed, then walked around to the back.

  He eyed his artwork, and smiled. He’d done an excellent job of altering the license plate. A careful application of acrylic paint had turned the four into a one, and the B into an E. Almost undetectable at even a short distance.

  After making sure no one was watching him, Fontenot crouched down and peeled the elastic, dried paint off the license plate’s surface, restoring the plate to its original, recognizable numbers. A sliver of white paint caught under his fingernail. With a grimace of distaste, he flicked at it with his thumbnail until it was gone.

  There, he thought. He was ready. While the stupid police were swarming over the car and trying to figure out the significance of the herring, he would finish his latest project, then drive across the lake and visit his victims. How pathetic they were, thinking he couldn’t find them. The connection of Mrs. Maxwell’s brother to the house on Lake Pontchartrain was ludicrously simple to trace.

  He walked across the street to where the disgusting car he’d acquired sat. He retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket, then slid into the driver’s seat. He pulled on his leather driving gloves before starting the engine, and laid his handkerchief on the seat beside him. He’d need it. The car was filthy.

  It was too bad about the previous owner. Fontenot’s mouth curled in contempt. When he’d inquired about purchasing the wreck, she had protested, claiming she could never get as reliable a car for the amount he was offering her. His fingers twitched and he licked his lips and closed his eyes. The human spinal cord was such a fragile thing. It barely took a flick of the wrist to snap it.

  With a sigh, Fontenot roused himself and pulled out into traffic. He glanced at his watch. His timing was impeccable, but he couldn’t afford to linger. He still had some finishing touches to put on the bomb.

  CODY SAT IN THE PIROGUE, halfheartedly fishing with a cane pole and cursing at himself. He pulled the line out of the water and tossed it a little closer to the fallen tree. It was already getting hot. He should have put on a T-shirt. He’d probably be the color of a boiled crawfish by the time he felt as though he could go back up to the house and face Dana again.

  What a stupid-ass thing he’d said. He’d never meant to let her know how worried he really was, but she got so damned irritating at times that he’d found himself yelling at her before he knew it.

  He’d seen the realization dawn in her olive-green eyes at his words. He’d regretted them as soon as he’d said them.

  I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Of course he hadn’t been paying attention. That bastard Fontenot had known exactly how to get to him.

  Knowing that Fontenot would stop at nothing to get him was a horrible knowledge. It didn’t bother him so much for himself. He was good at taking care of himself, at least when he wasn’t out of his mind with worry for his wife.

  What had Cody terrified was what Fontenot would do to Dana.

  God, sometimes he could understand why she hated the life he lived, why she hadn’t been able to bear the uncertainty, the constant fear that the next case might be the one that would kill him.

  He’d always thought it was exhilarating, living on the edge. He’d loved the excitement, the danger. But now the danger was too close to Dana, and suddenly her normal boring life was beginning to look pretty good to him.

  He wiped sweat off his forehead. It was his fault. His fault that she had to be here, hiding out with him. His fault her safe, orderly life was disrupted. His fault that a maniac was trying to kill him and wouldn’t hesitate to kill her to get to him.

  He glanced around, checking out the area as he’d done every few hours since they’d arrived. Just like every time before, the inlet was quiet, peaceful…safe. Even though he knew Dev and the guys were tracking Fontenot’s movement, he thought it was too quiet.

  He lifted the pole and repositioned the line. He couldn’t stand it here much longer. The inactivity chafed at him. He itched to be in the thick of things. He’d give anything to be the one to catch Fontenot. His pulse sped up at the prospect, then he remembered what Dana had said.

  This isn’t some cops-and-robbers game, Cody. That isn’t make-believe blood.

  Yes, he’d give almost anything to catch Fontenot. But what if he had to give up Dana again? What if he had to choose between another chance at loving her and his job? He didn’t want to think about the answer to that question.

  Sometimes he hated his job. It was his job that had cost him his marriage. Would it cost Dana her life?

  He pushed his fingers through his hair, wishing he could push out the disturbing thoughts with them. Pulling the line out of the water, he cast it toward another likely spot where a catfish might be hiding.

  “So now what?”

  He stiffened. He hadn’t heard her come up behind him. He was sitting with his back to the house and she’d come all the way down the hill without him hearing her. Not very professional, Detective.

  Her voice was small and, if he weren’t mistaken, apologetic. A twinge of regret stung the back of his throat. He didn’t want an apology from her. He didn’t want her to think it was her fault he’d gotten shot.

  He turned his head slightly, until he could see her out of the corner of his eye. “Now what, what?” he asked gently.

  “What are we going to do now? Stay here?”
she replied.

  He twisted enough to get a good look at her. She had on a tiny swimsuit and a cover-up made of some kind of loose woven stuff that didn’t really cover up anything. He swallowed.

  “Yep. The captain advised me to keep you here for another day or so.”

  “Here.” She took off her sandals and tossed them into the pirogue and threw a bag of stuff in on top of them. “Is the boat safe? There’s some wasp spray in the bag there.”

  “Wasp spray?” He rolled his eyes. “Did the Boy Scouts come to you when they needed a motto? Sunscreen would have been a better idea.”

  “Very funny.” She stuck her tongue out at him and stepped into the boat, balancing herself with the little cooler.

  Cody took the cooler and held out his hand to her. She took it, but only long enough to get herself seated.

  “Careful,” he said, eyeing the edge of the pirogue that was pulled up onto the bank. “Don’t knock the boat loose. I don’t want to drift away from the bank.”

  She glared at him. “I’ve climbed in and out of pirogues all my life, thank you. There’s sunscreen in there, too.”

  “Of course there is. How do you manage to always be so damned prepared?” he asked. “Do you carry sunscreen and moist towelettes and a little bitty bathing suit with you everywhere you go, just in case you might have a chance to sunbathe while hiding out from desperate criminals?” He pulled a package of Wet Wipes out of her bag of stuff and held it up, managing to look amused and irritated at the same time.

  “No,” she said icily, wondering how her effort to be nice to him had ended up in another argument. “As I’ve told you about four thousand times, I was planning to come up here this weekend. I was already packed.”

  “Ah, well, that explains it. You planned it. Of course.”

  “Speaking of planning, you should have a T-shirt on,” she said, before he could make another smart-ass remark about her plans. “You know how easily you sunburn.”

  “Why didn’t you plan to bring me one?” he threw back at her.

  “You’re mean, Cody. Mean and nasty.”

  “Fine.” He turned his back to her.

  “So how long do we have to stay here? A day? Two?”

  Cody shrugged. As he lifted the cane pole and swung the line a little closer to the fallen tree, Dana watched the muscles play sinuously across his back. She hadn’t forgotten the feel of them under her hands as he’d moved above her long ago, in another lifetime, when they were lovers.

  How could mere flesh and bone stir such erotic memories?

  She blinked and turned her gaze to the cane pole he was holding. “What are you fishing for?”

  He shrugged again. Damn him. She was trying to make up for their argument earlier and he was refusing to talk to her. “Talk to me, Cody. What are you using for bait?”

  He sent a baleful glance her way. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” she tried to quell a chuckle, but it bubbled up, anyway. “You’re expecting the fish to jump on your hook?”

  His mouth quirked up reluctantly. “I didn’t plan to do any fishing.”

  Her smile faded to a frown. He was still digging at her about the way she lived her life. “That’s your problem, Cody. You didn’t bring a T-shirt. You didn’t bring bait. You don’t plan anything.”

  She could have bitten her tongue. Why was she so touchy? What was the matter with her? She’d walked down here expressly to be nice, and she was already snapping at him.

  It was just nerves. Nerves and worry. After all, they were hiding out here together because their lives were in danger. Didn’t she have a right to be nervous?

  “No, Dana. That’s your problem, not mine. I do just fine. I like living life as it comes instead of always trying to plan what’s coming next. That takes all the fun out of it.” His mouth set grimly, the reluctant humor of a moment before gone.

  “Why’d you come out here? I was hoping for a little peace and quiet.” Despite his expression, he didn’t sound resentful, just resigned.

  She felt like a dark cloud, raining on his parade. Every time he made a friendly overture she turned it off. She sighed, exasperated. No matter what she did, it was wrong. She was too keyed up. Too jumpy.

  “You mean you planned to be out here by yourself, fishing with no bait? Should I leave?”

  He pushed his fingers through his hair and repositioned his fishing pole. His movements were stiff, as if his arm hurt.

  She’d never felt so mean in her life. “Cody, I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to protect me. Protect us. I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

  He gave her a disgusted look. “No problem, counselor. It’s just a flesh wound. All part of the job.”

  Dana winced. Even if he wasn’t baiting his hook, he was certainly baiting her. Well, she’d come out here to try and make up to him for the way she’d been acting, and she’d be damned if she was going to let him turn her efforts into a fight.

  “I brought some sandwiches and drinks. Want some?” She tried to make her voice light.

  He wiped his forehead and anchored the pole in a metal holder on the seat beside him, then turned around to face her. “Sure. I never did get any breakfast.”

  Dana opened the cooler and handed him a cold drink. “Me, neither.” She unwrapped a sandwich for him.

  He bit hungrily into the sandwich, chewed for a moment, then peeked inside the slices of bread. “There’s nothing on here but meat and cheese. No mayonnaise, no mustard, nothing.”

  Dana moaned. “Oh, no. I forgot. I wasn’t planning to bring us a picnic—what? What are you grinning at?”

  Cody’s grin widened around his mouthful of dry sandwich. He took a long drink of cola and wiped his mouth. “You didn’t plan to bring us a picnic? What do you mean?” His eyes were innocently wide, but that devilish grin was still there.

  Dana watched him suspiciously, her face growing warm. “I just…you know, just threw some stuff in the cooler. All I was doing was…” She scrunched her shoulders, unsure of what to say, how to explain the urge she’d had to do something for him, something unexpected.

  “Spontaneous!” he shouted. “Dana Charles Maxwell did something spontaneous! This calls for a celebration.” He leaned toward her and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck.

  Before she could even imagine what he was about to do, he kissed her, soundly if briefly, on the mouth.

  He tasted of ham and cheese and cola, and Dana was sure that if she hadn’t been sitting down, her knees would have buckled. The welcome, familiar feel of his mouth closing over hers for the second time that day, even for just those few seconds, froze her into immobility. She stared at him and realized he was staring at her, the grin still on his face but fading, into a tender, bemused expression that made her extremely uncomfortable.

  She didn’t know how she was going to bear it if he kept kissing her. The memories were hard enough to stand, here at the lake house where they had spent so many wonderful hours. This kissing had to stop. She would just have to be sure he didn’t get another chance.

  “Well,” she said crisply, sitting up straight. To her chagrin, she realized that she had leaned toward him during the brief seconds while he had been kissing her. “Dry or not, I think I’ll have a sandwich, too. I’m starved.” She pulled an orange out of the cooler. “Want one of these?”

  Cody dropped his gaze to her hand, then shook his head. “Don’t try to change the subject. You’ve been spontaneous two—no, three times in the past two days. You’re definitely loosening up.” He flashed his devilish grin again and took the orange.

  “I have not been spontaneous!” she responded hotly. “I’ve just been trying to stay alive around you.”

  “Spontaneity is not a disease, chère. You’re a lot of fun when you let yourself relax.” He split the orange in half with his pocketknife, then peeled off sections one at a time and popped them into his mouth.

  “Cody, do you have to be so sarcastic? I don’t think spontaneity is a
disease.” She spoke very carefully, busying herself with her sandwich, not looking at him. “It’s just that it’s important to me to be in control, to know what’s going to happen.” She looked at the sandwich distastefully. She wasn’t very hungry. She wrapped the uneaten portion in the plastic wrap.

  “Wait. You can throw the sandwich overboard and feed the fish,” Cody said, reaching for it. “Better yet, I can use the ham for bait.” He peeled the bread off and tossed it overboard and rolled the ham up and threaded it onto his hook.

  “Cody, I might have eaten that later.”

  “Live a little, chère, open a fresh one.”

  She glared at him but he ignored her. He tossed the line back into the water, then went back to his orange. He paused, a dripping section of fruit staining his fingers.

  “Why is being in control so important?” He popped the piece of orange in his mouth, but his gaze never left hers.

  She shifted uncomfortably on the rough wooden seat of the pirogue. “I should have worn jeans,” she grumbled. “This seat is rough and hard.”

  “Dana, I asked you a question. Answer me.”

  “I just don’t like surprises,” she said. “Please don’t ever surprise me.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve said that in the past. I don’t get it. There’s nothing wrong with surprises. Surprises are fun. Why is it more important to you to be in control than to have fun?”

  “I don’t know,” she snapped, confused by her reluctance to answer him. It occurred to her that there were a lot of things he didn’t know about her, and a lot of things she didn’t know about him.

  It was kind of sad, although Dana knew it was mostly her fault. She’d never talked about herself or her past. It was a part of her need to control her world, to keep out the hurt. And it had always been easy to distract Cody. She smiled reluctantly. Usually with a kiss. This time, she answered his question with one of her own. “Why is it more important to you to get the bad guys than it is to protect yourself?”

  “Protect myself? I protect myself. What are you talking about?” He looked at her oddly. “I’m very careful.”