Cody Walker's Woman

by Amelia Autin

  But he knew it wasn’t enough. Not for an agent. He’d been in a hospital bed just like this one for more days than he cared to remember while the world moved on without him, and the not knowing had driven him crazy. “We still had things to wrap up,” he told her. “I couldn’t just leave it to Callahan, McKinnon and Holmes to pick up all the pieces by themselves, especially after Danvers finally talked.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I wondered. But there wasn’t anyone I could ask.”

  “After the night you were shot, after his brothers were killed, I think Danvers was more afraid of us than he was of Vishenko. He gave us enough to go on. And it turns out the FBI had a little something up their sleeves, too, where Vishenko was concerned.” He smiled ruefully. “You were right about that. We are on the same side. Once Holmes and I had a heart-to-heart talk...we were able to put a lot of things together.”

  He drew her left hand to his lips and kissed it. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. We arrested Vishenko yesterday, along with New York’s junior senator and a half dozen others. And that’s just the start. Vishenko’s not talking—surprise, surprise—but the senator sang like a canary. Guess being a former FBI agent, he knew when to cut his losses and cut a deal.”

  She searched his face. “So it’s all over?”

  “I wish. The agency and the FBI have put together a task force. As soon as you’re well enough, you’ll be on it—Holmes was damned impressed with what you’d uncovered, and he pretty much insisted.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “He’s a little suspicious about how you came across certain FBI documents, but I’m sure you’ll manage to gloss that over.”

  Keira laughed a little at that, too. “I’ll think of something,” she said.

  Cody’s expression turned serious again as he toyed with her fingers. “Part of me would like to ask you never to do this to me again, but—”

  “You can’t,” she interrupted, trying to pull her hand away from his. “You can’t ask me to—”

  “I’m not,” he told her, firmly retaining her hand and letting his respect and pride shine through his eyes. And his concern. “I’m not asking you to be less than you are.” One corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “But I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t want to protect you from everything. Don’t ask me to be less than the man I am.”

  “Oh.” Color rose in her cheeks, and Cody was satisfied they understood each other.

  “We’ve got a long road ahead of us building our case,” he said, as if the conversation had never detoured into their personal lives. “And there are more arrests in the works. We still don’t know who was following me, or who set the bombs on the East Coast or in Denver. Danvers couldn’t tell us. But he and his brothers are the ones who rigged Callahan’s SUV, and they’re the ones who killed Tressler, on orders of the man who was their go-between with Vishenko—he’s one of the ones we arrested yesterday. If we can get him to roll on Vishenko...we’ll have to see about that. And the trials could take years, so I’m not holding my breath.”

  “But you’re safe now? You, Callahan, Trace and D’Arcy?”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Safe is a relative term. Without Vishenko bankrolling things...yeah, we’re safer. But I won’t lie to you—we’ll never be safe as long as we live. There’s always the chance that...” He left it at that, knowing he didn’t have to fill in the details. “How’s the injury?” he asked, changing the subject as he leaned against the side of the hospital bed.

  “It’s there,” she said dryly. “You should know—you went through it yourself.”

  Cody chuckled. “Yeah, but the body doesn’t remember the pain—just the idea of the pain. And thank God for that. Otherwise, no woman would ever have a second child.”

  Their eyes met. Cody caught his breath at the sudden yearning in Keira’s face, and he had the answer to the question he’d wanted to ask her the night they’d made love. She wanted his child...his children...with an intensity that equaled his.

  “It’s a risk,” he warned her, touching her cheek with fingers that trembled slightly. “Callahan calls them hostages to fortune.”

  “But Mandy doesn’t,” Keira told him firmly. “She took that risk for the man she loves. And I will, too.”

  Cody’s heart contracted in love and pain. “Are you sure, Keira?” he asked. “I’m willing to risk it if you are, but I couldn’t bear it if someday in the future...if something happened and you blamed me...and stopped loving me...”

  She shook her head, and her left hand reached for his right one. “Life is a risk. Love is a risk. We just have to trust in ourselves and each other that we will do everything in our power to keep our children safe.”

  Cody swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering all the things he’d told himself he would say to her...if only she survived. Love me. Need me. Marry me.

  He didn’t need to say those things now, because he already knew her answer. Her welcoming kiss had told him that much. But he had to ask, “Will you do that, Keira? Will you trust me enough to have my children?”

  She looked at him with that solemn expression he knew so well, then smiled her slow smile. It was like a Wyoming sunrise coming up to meet the day—soft, warm, unique. And full of promise. “I will.”

  Epilogue

  Cody sat on the porch steps of his cabin near Granite Peak, waiting for the sunrise. He loved the early morning in the mountains, always had. There was something fresh and clean and untouched about it, the morning air crisp and cool even in the middle of summer, and he needed memories like these to carry him through the hectic days of his life in Denver.

  The task force set up between the agency and the FBI had borne fruit. As he’d learned long ago, Keira was a tigress when she was working a case. And just as McKinnon had once said, research and analysis were her forte. She’d been relentless in uncovering Vishenko’s insidious web and documenting everything. There was no such thing as an airtight case, but they had compiled enough evidence for conviction of every major player in Vishenko’s organization, and quite a few of the minor ones.

  The trials they would have to testify at were still months away. Delay after delay had been won by the defense teams, but the prosecution’s day in court was coming, and Cody could hardly wait. Not that they would ever truly be safe...just safer, once the convictions started piling up.

  The creak of the front door opening behind him was followed by the faint whisper of footsteps, and a steaming mug of black coffee was set down beside him. Cody ignored the coffee, instead turning and reaching for Keira and drawing her down to sit between his legs. Only then did he pick up the cup and drink deeply, making an appreciative sound.

  “Morning,” he said, putting the cup down and cradling Keira back against his body, breathing in the scent of her that never failed to arouse him—plain soap and water and warm woman. Very warm woman.

  “Good morning,” she answered, cuddling back against him. He thought about turning her in his arms for a coffee-flavored kiss, but decided to wait for the sunrise—postponement of pleasure always made it sweeter in the end. Especially where Keira was concerned.

  He slid his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders, then gently kneaded the muscles on her right side until she sighed with contentment. “Thanks,” she breathed.

  “Aching again?”

  “Just a little. How did you know?”

  “Been there, done that. Mornings are the worst. It will get better. Trust me, I know.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “And I do.”

  Eleven months had passed since Keira had left her hospital bed. Ten and a half months since they had married in a private ceremony with her right arm still in a sling to keep her right side immobile while the healing process continued. But neither of them had wanted to wait.

  Cody glanced down at the plain gold wedding band on Keira’s left hand, smaller than the one on his hand but identical in every other way. He remembered the moment he’d slid the ring on her finger, pledging his life to
her and accepting the gift of her life in return. Two words were engraved inside both rings—I Will.

  As Cody had known she would, Keira had accepted the job working for D’Arcy and the assignment to the Vishenko/NOANC/New World Militia task force. It had meant giving up McKinnon as her partner, and although it had made her sad at first, she had done it willingly...for his sake. If she regretted it, she’d never said a word to him. For the past nine months Cody had been running the Denver branch of the agency, most of that time without having to rely on advice from Baker Street. D’Arcy had been right—Cody couldn’t be him, but he had finally succeeded in making the job his.

  Nine months, Cody thought, his hands tightening imperceptibly on Keira’s shoulders. Long enough to have a baby.

  The sun peeked over the horizon to the east, and they watched in silence as the sky changed from indigo-blue to rosy pink with streaks of gold. Cody slid his hands beneath Keira’s arms and around her swelling waistline where his child lay nestled, safe and warm.

  He closed his eyes against the emotions that swamped him, wishing he could put into words what she meant to him, what this child meant to him. But all he could do was hold her...and breathe.

  “Are we heading back right after lunch?” she asked presently.

  Cody’s eyes opened. “That’s the plan.”

  “Good. I have an early meeting tomorrow morning with the task force.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a full day tomorrow myself, starting with a budget conference call and ending with an ‘all hands’ staff meeting. And the rest of the week only gets worse.” His hands were still caressing her, still making concentric circles that soothed both of them.

  “We both need a good night’s sleep.” She made a small snorting sound. “At least as much of a good night’s sleep as the baby will let us get. Sorry about that.”

  “Hey, did you ever hear me complain? So I’m a light sleeper. So what? We’re in this together, remember? What’s mine is yours, and vice versa.”

  She laughed wryly at that. “I don’t think baby-induced insomnia was covered in our marriage vows.”

  “Sure it was. ‘For better, for worse,’ remember? That pretty much covers the gamut. If tossing and turning and losing a little sleep is the worst thing you can throw at me, sweetheart, I’m home free.” His eyes drifted closed again as he savored her nearness.

  “Do you ever wish...?” Keira began, then stopped.

  “Wish what?”

  “That we’d let them tell us if it was a boy or a girl?”

  Cody’s eyes flicked open, and he stroked his fingers back and forth, feeling the life growing there—strong, vibrant. Like Keira.

  “No,” he said. “I’m glad we didn’t. Not knowing now will make it all the sweeter...later.”

  She chuckled softly, and her curls tickled his chin. “Not much longer to wait.”

  “I know. But I can be a patient man.” He brushed the backs of his hands gently against the outside curves of her breasts, telling her without words exactly what he meant. “Very patient. Now that I have everything I ever wanted.”

  “A woman who can make a good cup of coffee?” she teased.

  “Yeah.” He picked up his coffee mug and sipped. The coffee had cooled, but it was still good. “Not just a good cup of coffee,” he said in a husky voice, trying to match her teasing tone. “A damn good cup of coffee.”

  Keira turned in Cody’s arms so that her cheek snuggled trustingly against his shoulder, and time stood still.

  * * * * *

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  Chapter 1

  “Luke!”

  Brianna Cole stared, stunned, at the last man on earth she expected to see standing at her front door. Icy winter air, defying the spring season, swirled around her, but she hardly noticed. Luke Masters, her ex-husband, stood there with smiling gray eyes she remembered all too well. His thick parka hung open despite the cold, showing her he still pretty much dressed like a lumberjack: plaid wool shirt, jeans and work boots. Why wasn’t he back at their old place in Chicago? What was he doing in Conard County?

  “Hi, Bri,” he said pleasantly enough.

  “What are you doing here?” Shock rapidly gave way to a sick feeling, an urge to deny what she was seeing and a swamp of memories she never wanted to think about again. How dare he?

  “Well, I’m on a project. I’ll be around for a few weeks, and I thought it would be better for you to find out this way. Besides, I thought we might catch up.”

  Catch up? The idea astonished her. They had parted three years ago for a lot of very good reasons. Well, they’d started parting ways before that, but the divorce had been finalized three years ago. Unfortunately, finalizing a divorce didn’t end the pain. “Why?”

  “Because there was a time we used to be best friends.”

  What kind of excuse was that? she wondered. Suddenly becoming aware of the frigid air, she realized she had to close the door. Either invite him in or send him on his way, but as she heard her heat kick on, she considered more practical matters. Thinking of the heat at least interrupted the emotional tsunami the sight of him had caused. “Come in,” she said irritably. “But don’t get comfortable.”

  He didn’t comment on her ungracious invitation, merely stamped his feet a couple times to shake off any remaining snow, then stepped inside.

  She closed the door behind him. The chill from outside seemed to reach her and she hugged herself, rubbing her arms. The forced-air heat blasted away but didn’t seem to warm her.

  He looked good, from what she could see. Time hadn’t changed him one bit, not even adding threads of gray to his dark hair. Bitterness filled her mouth. She’d always suspected that their divorce hadn’t troubled him as much as it had her. He looked fit, healthy and as self-assured as ever. On the other hand, upset had cost her ten pounds she hadn’t been able to put back on, and sleepless nights had made her look like a raccoon for over a year. “This is wrong,” she said. “On so many levels.”

  “Why? We used to be married. I’m in town. I just wanted a few minutes to see how you’re doing.”

  “Right.” She pointed to her shabby living room and told him to sit wherever. Then, because she was cold, she went to get some coffee. Then, because she wasn’t naturally rude, she poured a mug for him.

  Ten minutes, she thought. I can handle this for ten minutes. That didn’t make her feel any better. All of a sudden she was staring into a yawning abyss of old pain and desire she didn’t want to freshen.

  Squaring her shoulders, she walked back to the man who had twisted her heart into knots and then torn it apart.

  She hoped she wasn’t being stupid.

  * * *

  The night outside began to sprinkle big white flakes of snow, just a dusting, but the flakes glittered like jewels under the streetlights. Spring was late this year.

  Jack Milkin stood three doors down from Brianna’s house. He liked Brianna. She was one of the few people who seemed to go out of her way to notice him and be nice to him. Mostly he felt invisible, but not when she was around. He’d been interested in her for a long time, but was always reluctant to ask her out. He knew she didn’t date much. There’d been a few guys she had gone out with but it never lasted.

  Jack figured he could make it last if she would just let him try.

  So he’d bee
n trying to learn everything he could about her so he could please her. Soon, he had promised himself, he would ask her out for a movie or dinner. Some safe little date. If she said yes, then he’d set about proving just how good he could be for her. If she didn’t say yes, well, he’d find another way.

  But now a strange man had just been invited into her house. A wrinkle. Competition? A possible threat? He thought he knew nearly everything about her, but she had seemed to know this guy, a guy who wasn’t on his list of things he knew about Bri.

  He approached her house at last, and when he was sure no one could see, he climbed the big old tree and then pushed through her attic vent. From up here, he could see what he needed to see and hear what he needed to hear.

  The attic was empty, but it was not too cold. Heat from the house seeped up here. She needed more insulation on the floor, and he’d been meaning to offer to put it in.

  Being quiet as a mouse, he eased toward the voices that drifted up to him. A minute later he was facedown on the attic flooring, looking through a tiny hole he had put there. One for each room. Stretched out, he could watch Bri. He could hear Bri.

  He could find out everything about her life and all the ways he could please her.

  * * *

  Bri faced Luke in the living room. Naturally he’d settled on the sofa. That was his expansive style. She took the Boston rocker, safely across from him. The silence that ensued would have been funny if it hadn’t been so tense. He’d wanted to talk, and now had nothing to say. She couldn’t think of anything, either. She’d never expected to see him again, and she didn’t like the way old hurts were rising in her.