Читать книгу The Lawman Who Loved Her - Mallory Kane - Страница 15

Cody was in hell. He was doing his best to fight his way out, but he wasn’t having much luck, because Satan had his pitchfork rammed through Cody’s shoulder, and he wouldn’t let go. Cody jerked against the devil’s grip.

Damn, that hurt! He tried to turn around and attack but for some reason, he couldn’t move. He took a long breath, preparing to try again, but mingled in with the sulfur and brimstone in the air was the delicate scent of roses.

“Ahh!” Cody jerked awake. His shoulder felt as if it was still in hell, but as he came to consciousness, he remembered where he was. He was at Dana’s. How had he gotten all the way out here to Metairie?

His head cleared slowly, and he remembered the rest of it. The booby trap at his apartment. The pain. The fear that Fontenot had rigged a similar trap for Dana, and his relief when he’d found nothing wrong. Then his surprise when he’d discovered her in the bathtub. She had changed her plans. Dana never changed her plans.

He sniffed the air again. Roses. Without raising his head, he opened his eyes. He was in her bedroom, in her bed, and she was lying next to him. He looked at her across the hills and valleys of white cotton sheets. She was asleep, on top of the covers, still wrapped in the bloodstained terry-cloth robe. Her hands were clenched into fists and curled against her breast.

It was how she’d slept during the last few disastrous months of their marriage, all scrunched up, like she was sleeping as fast and as hard as she could, like sleeping was just another chore, along with taking out the garbage, or paying the bills, or putting up with him.

He frowned. She’d always hated his job. Sometimes he didn’t blame her. Sometimes he hated it, too, like last night when he’d opened his apartment door and realized a split second too late what Fontenot had done.

The quiet click of the hammer should have been enough warning. But it wasn’t. He was lucky the bullet had only torn through the flesh of his upper arm. If he’d been a split second slower, it would have caught him square in the chest. He snorted.

That’s what Dana would say. Four years ago he’d have responded by saying that a split second faster and it would have missed him. But it hadn’t missed him, and Cody knew why. He’d been preoccupied with worry for his ex-wife.

The day the jury returned the verdict that sent Fontenot to prison, the madman had smiled serenely at Cody and promised he’d be back, his gaze resting briefly but meaningfully on Dana.

Cody got the message, and Fontenot knew it.

Now Fontenot was free because of an overcrowded prison system and slick lawyers, and Cody still remembered that smile and his meaningful look. Cody had no doubt that Fontenot would make good on his threat. He had no doubt Dana was in danger.

She stirred and murmured softly, and memories of the two of them crowded thoughts of Fontenot out of Cody’s brain. As he watched, she moved a little closer, and briefly, he saw the young, serious law student he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. She appeared carefree and relaxed, without that tiny double line between her eyebrows, without the ever-so-slightly turned-down mouth that made her look older than she was.

He lay there, ignoring his aching shoulder, and watched her sleep. The faint lines around her eyes smoothed out, and a hint of a smile curved her mouth.

God, she was gorgeous. His mouth turned up. She’d always objected when he said that. She never got over the idea that he was just teasing her. She’d never quite believed how much he loved her olive-green eyes, the dark blond wavy hair she complained about, even the crooked front tooth that made her look impish when she grinned.

With an effort, he moved his injured arm and curled his fingers loosely around hers. The tension in her clenched fist made his chest ache. She’d always been too serious. Always worried about the damnedest things. She obviously hadn’t changed much, he thought wryly.

He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, savored the softness of her skin against his. He loved to touch her. She was like silk over steel, her skin as soft as an angel’s. But it was the steel that fascinated him. He admired her determination, her certainty. She never had doubts, never made mistakes.

Except for him. He was her only mistake, and he knew how much she regretted making it. He’d come into her comfortable little world and dared to disrupt it. She was safety and stability and he was danger.

He’d always wanted to be a cop. Dana knew that before she’d married him. But when it came down to the reality of it, she hadn’t been able to live with the danger and uncertainty that was a part of him.

But while it was good, it was very, very good. He reached to push a hair away from her cheek, forgetting his injured arm.

“Ouch!” he growled, and cursed.

Dana stirred, turning toward him. She opened her eyes, and when her green gaze met his, it was like old times. Her mouth softened and she almost smiled. “Morning, tough guy.”

“Morning, chère,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Her eyes widened and she stiffened, although how she could have gotten any more tense was beyond his comprehension. She’d remembered why he was here, and she wasn’t having any of his New Orleans charm. He knew because the two little frown lines had reappeared in her forehead. She sat up.

“Oh. I forgot you were…how is your shoulder?” she asked, pushing her hair out of her eyes. The silky blond strands caught around her fingers, and she winced as she disentangled them, scattering pins as the waves tumbled around her face and neck.

Cody didn’t move, partly because it hurt less when he stayed still, and partly because Dana’s robe had come loose and he could see about eighty percent of one delicately veined breast. His pulse sped up as he remembered the feel of her small, perfect breasts under his palms.

Dana frowned and followed his gaze. “Humph. Grow up, Cody.”

“Why?” he muttered. “So I can be as grumpy and stodgy as you?”

She glared at him. “No, so you can get a real job and quit playing cops and robbers.” She pulled her robe together and got up, then looked down at the brown streaks on the terry cloth as if she’d never seen them before. Her face grew white and she clenched her jaw.

She looked up at him, accusation and pain in her olive-green eyes. “Go away, Cody,” she said tonelessly, holding up one hand, palm out. “Just…go away.”

She left the room and Cody turned gingerly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Nothing had changed. She still blamed him. Of course, he knew how she felt, because he blamed himself.

He’d never had a chance to talk to her after he’d gotten out of the hospital. Not really talk. She’d done an excellent job of avoiding him, even while they were still living together. Then, once he’d recuperated enough to go back to work, she’d moved out, and their communications had been through their lawyers.

He’d tried over and over to tell her how sorry he was. He’d wanted to grab her and hold her and grieve with her over the baby they’d lost. He’d have promised her anything just to wipe the sadness from her eyes. He’d have sworn to her that he’d get out of police work, that he’d sack groceries if she’d just come back to him, but he never got the chance.

She left him.

So he’d thrown himself even deeper into his job. But it was never quite the same out there without her to come home to. He hadn’t realized how much he depended on her to be there, until she was gone.

There was still the satisfaction of putting a criminal behind bars, but without Dana to celebrate with him, it didn’t mean as much. Her admiration for his devotion to his job had been lost somewhere along the way, and with it had gone a lot of his reason for wanting to do a good job.

Slowly, gingerly, he got out of bed and made his way into the kitchen. Dana had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and was drinking coffee from his favorite mug, the one with the chipped rim. He lowered himself carefully into a chair.

“I thought you couldn’t find my mug,” he remarked, faintly accusing. “It disappeared when you moved out.” He was a little surprised that she’d kept it.

Dana’s face burned and her fingers tensed around the rough surface of the pottery mug. “I couldn’t. It was in the bottom of a box.”

“That was my favorite mug.”

“It’s not your mug, it’s my mug. I made it.”

“I know,” he said, smiling. “It never sat evenly. I spilled my coffee at least once a week because it wobbled.”

Dana couldn’t look at him, and she couldn’t unwrap her fingers from the mug. She had made it for him. It was the only thing she made during that whole ceramics class that hadn’t cracked in the kiln. He’d always claimed it was his favorite. Why, she had no idea.

With a supreme effort, she managed to speak. “If you want it, you can take it with you when you leave.”

Cody shook his head and clenched his jaw against the throbbing ache in his shoulder. He hadn’t missed her emphasis on the word leave. “Got any aspirin?”

She nodded without looking at him and stood up. As she got the tablets and a glass of water and a mug of coffee for him, he looked around the kitchen, wondering what Fontenot had done to her apartment while she was out of town.

“Sit down, Dana,” he said as he took the coffee from her unsteady fingers. “We need to talk.”

“There is absolutely nothing to say,” she said, but she sat down and picked up the chipped mug and wrapped her fingers around it again.

Cody watched as she realized what she’d done and put it down abruptly. It wobbled slowly and noisily on the table until he stopped it with his fingers.

It was funny how the oddest things took on meaning between two people. He loved the mug because she’d made it. He let it go. It wobbled again until he stopped it. If it had been perfect, it wouldn’t be nearly as precious.

“I tried to call you Tuesday,” he said, letting his fingers trace the whorls on the mug’s surface. Why had she kept it? he wondered. It hadn’t meant anything to her.

“I know. I picked up my messages.”

“Why did you come back last night? Your answering machine said you’d be gone until today.”

“I couldn’t take Big Daddy and his good old boys talking at me like I was a simpering southern belle.”

Cody looked up. “Big Daddy?”

Dana shrugged and her mouth turned up. She reached out and took the mug. “The ultraimportant client I met with in Baton Rouge. You know the type. He owns a chain of hardware stores there. He wants to expand to New Orleans and I was drawing up the contracts. He was insulting, so I walked out.”

Cody laughed. “You walked out? Dana Maxwell walked out on a meeting with clients? I do believe hell has frozen over again. Call Don Henley and tell him to do another album.”

Dana banged the mug down on the table. His easy, intimate humor invaded places inside her she didn’t want exposed. The two of them, sitting together drinking coffee, reminded her of lazy Sunday mornings and kisses flavored with café au lait, of her trying to study, while he….

“I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and have an idle, ordinary conversation with you. We’re not old friends sharing a cup of coffee and memories. I want you out of here,” she groused, lifting her head.

The laughter faded from his eyes and their blue brightness dulled to a gunmetal gray. “Dana, there’s something you need to know. Did you find anything out of place when you got back? Anything unusual?”

She heard a strange note in his voice. The frown on his face intensified her apprehension. Cody was worried about something, and that wasn’t like him. She shook her head. “Nothing except an ex-husband breaking in and bleeding all over everything.”

Cody reached his right hand awkwardly into his left jeans pocket and pulled something out. The movement obviously caused him pain, and she ached to see him hurt. She blinked fiercely, reminding herself his pain was no longer her concern.

But she had trouble dragging her gaze away from his bare chest with its faint dusting of honey-brown hair, and his broad shoulders, still streaked with dried blood.

He held up a small golden disk.

“What’s that? Is that mine?” She reached out and took it from his fingers. It was one of the gold coin earrings he’d given her on their first anniversary. They had cost way too much, but she loved them. She’d worn them almost every day until their divorce. Since then they’d lain in her jewelry box under her bed.

She stared at it. “What are you doing with my earring?”

He covered her hand with his, wrapping her fingers around the disk. “Chère, look at me.”

Reluctantly she raised her head. Something was very wrong. A frisson of fear slithered up her spine.

“This earring was on the seat of my car two mornings ago. I almost didn’t see it.”

She tugged against his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. The post of the earring dug into her palm. “Stop it, Cody. It’s obviously not my earring, then, because mine is in my jewelry box. You’re just trying to scare me.”

“It is yours. Go check.”

“I’m not going to check. If it’s mine then you got it out of my jewelry box this morning. Why are you doing this to me?”

Cody shook his head, his eyes dark and cloudy. She didn’t want to look into them, didn’t want to see the pain and the fear deep in those eyes that had so often sparked with laughter, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away.

“Fontenot is out of prison.”

She froze. “F-Fontenot?”

He nodded grimly.

“The man who shot you,” she said. “How—how can he be out?”

“Good behavior, and good lawyers.”

Dana closed her eyes. “He put a bullet in your head. He almost killed you. They can’t let him out.”

“Dana, listen to me. Fontenot swore he’d make me pay for putting him away. ‘I shot you this time, but there are things that hurt more than a gunshot, Maxwell,’ he said.” Cody’s blue eyes burned into hers.

She jerked her hand away and stood abruptly. “I don’t care, Cody,” she lied. She remembered Fontenot. Too well. She’d been with the public defender’s office, but as the wife of the detective who’d been shot, she was barred from participating in the case.

She’d already filed for divorce by the time Fontenot came to trial, and she’d tried to stay away from the courtroom, but she’d had to hear the verdict with her own ears. She had to be there, to be sure they put that monster away.

“He looked at you when he said it.” Cody stared at her. “And now, he’s back. He got your earring out of this apartment without you even knowing he’d been here.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she countered. “I’d know if anyone had been here.”

Cody shrugged carefully. “Go check.”

She could hardly catch her breath, the growing fear was sitting so heavily on her chest. “Why are you doing this?” she asked again, still unwilling to believe that Fontenot was out of prison and once again a danger to Cody. “I don’t want to be in the middle of your blood feud with that madman.”

“You don’t have a choice. Fontenot isn’t asking your permission. You are in the middle of it.”

Old grief and pain ripped through her like a straight razor and her voice shook with passion and fury. “Because of you. You walked into that courtroom with your head still bandaged, so weak you had to lean on a cane, just so you could prove to the world that Cody Maxwell was tough enough to put him away.”

She took a shaky breath. “He almost killed you. Your job almost killed you. It did kill my baby. And I am never going through that pain again!”

She gasped at her own words. It was the first time she’d ever said it aloud, to him, and she saw the effect of her words etched in the new lines on his face.

An anguish too profound to bear washed over his features, draining the color from his face. But then, anger replaced the anguish, and he vaulted up from the chair and grabbed her arm with his good hand.

“Our baby,” he ground out between clenched teeth, his face so close to hers she could feel the heat of his breath on her mouth, could see the darkness behind his blue eyes. “It was our baby, not just yours. I came home from the hospital to find out my wife was divorcing me and the baby we’d wanted so badly was never going to be born.”

He took a ragged breath and released her arm, pushing her away. “So don’t talk to me about pain. Pain is something I know all about.”

He whirled and stalked out of the kitchen, his naked back and bare feet not detracting at all from his stiff, oddly dignified exit.

It was true. By the time he’d come home from the hospital, she might as well have already been gone. Then when she had moved out, he’d never questioned anything. He’d just gone along with whatever her lawyer wanted. At the time she’d thought he didn’t care. She’d never even considered how he might be feeling.

No. She clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to cry. She could not let him get to her. She’d promised herself a long time ago she would never cry again, not for him, not even for herself. She’d already cried all her tears.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen until the stinging at the back of her eyes subsided. She realized she was still holding the mug—his mug. She set it down so hard she was afraid it might break, but it was tough.

She smiled grimly. Tougher than she was. The mug had made it through their two years of marriage with only a tiny chip in the rim. She hadn’t fared as well. Her heart and soul had been scarred, and she wasn’t sure those scars would ever go away.

She followed Cody into the bedroom and found him standing in the middle of the room, looking around. As she watched he went over to the bed and crouched down.

“What are you doing?”

“This is where you keep your jewelry case, isn’t it?” he asked without looking up.

“Cody, do you mind? This is not a crime scene, it’s my bedroom. Your shoulder is bleeding again. Aren’t you going to go to the doctor?”

He stood and held the jewelry case out to her. She looked up to find his blue eyes regarding her with a mixture of impatience and triumph. “It is a crime scene, chère. Take a look. There’s only one earring in there.”

She jerked the box away from him. “Don’t you want to preserve the fingerprints?” she asked acidly.

“Fontenot’s too smart for that. You couldn’t even tell he’d been in here, could you? You said there was nothing out of place.”

Dana tried to remember walking into her apartment the day before. She’d been distracted, thinking about how she was going to tell her boss she’d just walked out on his biggest client. The apartment could have been turned inside out and she probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“No…” she said tentatively. “No. I’m sure. I’d have noticed.”

Cody looked meaningfully at the jewelry case, so she sighed and opened it. Nothing looked out of place, except that there was only one coin earring. She picked up her pearls and pushed aside a bracelet. The other earring wasn’t there.

“I must have lost it,” she said in a small voice.

Cody laughed. “You never lose anything. Remember the time I thought I’d lost my wedding band? You had put it where I always kept it. I didn’t find it because I’d already looked there.”

The grin slowly faded from his face. “That was early on, before I found out nothing ever gets lost around you. You won’t allow it.”

For some reason, Cody’s words embarrassed her. He’d always made fun of her orderly ways. His teasing had been endearing once. Anger and embarrassment crowded into her breast, along with a peculiar longing for that long-ago time, before Cody’s dogged determination to save the world alone had turned her neatly ordered life into chaos.

“Why are you so sure he got into my apartment? Nobody just waltzes into an apartment, finds a hidden jewelry case and takes one earring. That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous if his purpose is to show me how close he can get to someone I—to you. You wore those earrings every day. You wore them in the courtroom. Fontenot doesn’t miss anything. He saw them. He knew I’d understand the significance.”

“The significance. And just what is the significance, Detective?”

“The significance is that he can go anywhere. He can do anything. The man is psychotic, but he’s brilliant. He could just as easily have been waiting for you here.”

“I don’t want to…” She turned away, frightened by the intensity of his gaze.

He caught her arm. “Listen to me. Ever since they let him out of prison, things have been happening. Little things at first, but escalating.”

“Th-things?” she stammered, against her will.

“A cup of coffee on my desk from Mintemans, my favorite place. And I didn’t order it. Then my car was on empty one night when I got home, and full the next morning.”

“I don’t…understand.” She was lying, of course. She understood, too well. Cody had always maintained that Fontenot was diabolical. He’d been obsessed with putting the man away. Dana knew what Cody was telling her shouldn’t make sense, but it did. It made frightening sense, because it meant that Cody was right about Fontenot. A horrible, shivery feeling skittered up her spine.

“Then, yesterday morning,” Cody continued, “I opened my car door, and this—” he dangled the earring in front of her eyes “—was on the driver’s seat.”

“How…?” She bit her lip. She did not want to know how he’d gotten shot, but she couldn’t help herself. “How did you get shot?”

For a split second, an unguarded look appeared in his eyes. A look of fear. Dana’s heart pounded. “Cody?”

He shook his head angrily. “I was…distracted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, Dana. I guarantee you, you don’t want to know.”

“You’re right, but I’m afraid I need to.”

“I’m late. I’ve got to get out of here.” He looked around the bedroom. “Is there an old sweatshirt of mine around here? Or a T-shirt?”

Dana started to press him for the answer, but her pounding heart was stealing her breath. He was right. She didn’t want to know.

Reluctantly she went to her dresser and pulled out his police academy T-shirt, the one she slept in. She smoothed her palm over the soft material before she handed it to him. It was sad, in a ridiculously sentimental way, to give it up. His shirt had comforted her on many a lonely night. Somehow, she felt safe when she slept in it.

“My academy T-shirt. I thought I’d lost it. I should have known you’d still have it.” He grinned at her as he shook it out, preparing to pull it on over his head. “Do you have anything else that belongs to me?”

Dana’s face burned. “No,” she snapped, a queer regret settling into her heart. When he left, taking his mug and his shirt with him, she wouldn’t have anything that belonged to him. “Absolutely nothing. Aren’t you ready to leave yet? I’ve got plans for this weekend.”

“You’ve got plans for every moment of your life,” Cody remarked dryly as he prepared to don the shirt.

She wanted to turn away. She didn’t want to watch his lean muscles undulate as he pulled the T-shirt over his head. She certainly didn’t want to see him wince as he lifted his wounded left arm. But somewhere along the way her will had gotten lost, so she stood helplessly, her eyes filled with the sight of the shirt molding his chest and abdomen.

With a grunt he finally got the shirt on and smoothed his hands down the front of it. She swallowed nervously. That T-shirt had clung to her breasts so many nights. Her own hands had smoothed the material across her belly, seeking comfort when she lay alone in bed.

His hands had once roamed over her like they now ran down his own body. No. Not exactly like this. This was a natural grooming gesture. He was just making sure the shirt was in place. His hands on her had been different—gentle but insistent, seeking, touching, teasing, and always, always strong.

She licked her lips and dragged her gaze away from the word Academy stretched across his chest.

“I’m going to check your apartment and take a look around outside.”

“What?” she asked, distracted.

“I’m going to take a look around,” he repeated. “What’s the matter with you?”

She quickly turned away, pretending to look for something on the dresser. It wouldn’t do for Cody to get a good look at her face right now. She was sure every thought, every emotion inside her was written in her expression.

“Fine. Fine. Just get out of here. And go to the doctor, if you can manage to find the time, what with saving the world and all. You’re going to have an awful scar there if you don’t.”

“It’ll go with the rest of them.”

“God knows you’ve got enough.” She glanced up at his mirrored image, regretting her words, but not able to stop them.

“You’re a cold woman, Dana,” he said, shaking his head, a touch of sadness marring his features.

She turned around and looked at the man who had once meant everything in the world to her, and wondered if he would ever know how wrong he was. “I have to be. Otherwise I’d never stop hurting.”

Cody’s eyes changed, darkened. He took a step toward her, but she backed away.

“Don’t…” she snapped, holding up a hand defensively. “Just go.”

He shrugged, then winced when the movement hurt his shoulder. “No problem, counselor,” he said flatly. “Send me a bill for services rendered.” Then he turned on his heel and left.

Dana heard his shoes on the hardwood living room floor, then heard the front door open.

“Dana.”

She sighed in irritation and stepped through the hall to the living room. “What?”

“Be careful, and call me if you notice anything strange. Anything, you understand? Fontenot isn’t a man to mess with. I’ll have a patrol car check the apartment.” He turned to go then turned back one more time.

“What, Cody? What now?”

“Why don’t you go over to Pensacola? Visit your sister. Get out of town for a day or two.”

“No. I told you, I have plans. Your life, your quarrels, your ex-cons full of revenge, don’t have anything to do with me. I divorced you so I wouldn’t be subjected to this. I have a life, a nice, quiet, boring life. No danger, no heroics, no guns. I like it just fine.” She folded her arms tightly and scrunched her shoulders, pulling in, away from his searing blue gaze.

She’d had more than she could take of Cody for one day—for a lifetime. His presence was opening wounds that hurt too much to be borne. “Please go away and stay gone. I don’t want to know when you get killed, thank you.”

A dark hurt shadowed his face briefly, then his mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Oh, you’re welcome, my dear ex-wife,” he retorted. “I guess I’d better change ‘next of kin’ in my official personnel file. But, Dana, just remember this. When I die, it’ll be for something good, instead of dying of boredom, a day at a time, like you are.” He slammed the door.

She stared at the door, peculiarly stung by his words. He held her sane, safe life in such contempt. Sometimes she couldn’t figure out why he’d married her. Sometimes she wasn’t sure why she’d married him.

Oh, she knew why she loved him…had loved him. Cody was easy to love. It had to do with the kind of man he was. He was an honorable man, a good man. A modern-day hero, a superman in jeans and a leather jacket. He truly believed that he could make a difference in the world. He’d been raised to be a cop, to spend his life keeping the world safe for others.

He believed in what he did. And therein lay the problem. Cody believed he was invincible. He believed the good guys always won. Moreover, he believed the good guys had a responsibility to the world.

Oh, Cody.

She closed her eyes and tried to feel relieved that he was gone, but all she could find inside her was a faint apprehension and a hollow sense of loss that had been there ever since she’d left him.