Only Her (A K2 Team Novel) (2 page)

“Yep,” he said.

She waited for more, then continued to wait. Why did the man have to be so freaking hot? Those broad shoulders and his six-pack abs made her want to press her fingers against his chest to see if he was as muscle hard as he looked. Dark brown hair, caramel-colored eyes, a killer body, and a day-old beard made for one potent man. It was the scruff that gave him a bad boy appearance, the kind of bad boy who’d always appealed to her, unfortunately. There wasn’t a soft thing about him, not even in his eyes. They were hard and cold.

“Bah,” she muttered when he remained silent. Waving a dismissive hand, she turned to go back into her house.

“Call them,” he said.

Don’t turn around, Riley.
She turned. “What?”

“Call them. The ugly one is Pretty Girl and the black and tan one is Sally. Call them by name.”

Riley glanced up and down the street to make sure there were no oncoming cars. Okay, she’d show him what an idiot he was by playing his stupid game. “Pretty Girl, Sally, come here.” She clapped and crooned to them. They both ran to the edge of the sidewalk, sat their butts on the ground, and swept their tails across the grass. No matter how much she cajoled, they came no farther. Well, that was embarrassing, and the amusement in the man’s eyes grated.

“My bad,” she said as she slinked back to her house. At hearing his low chuckle, she lifted her hand and gave him her middle finger.

CHAPTER TWO

C
ody cracked a rare smile as he watched the woman until she disappeared inside her house. “Did you just give me the finger, darlin’?”

Her hair—hanging straight down her back now—reminded him of a German shepherd’s coat with the different shades of dark browns, lighter browns, and the gold streaks. Nice bod, too. Very nice. And he liked the way her eyes had flashed with fire when she’d gotten annoyed with him. He wondered what her name was.

Didn’t matter, though. He was better off not knowing. The last thing he needed was the complication of a woman when his life was royally screwed up. He called the dogs in so he could dress for work.

As he headed for his car, his phone buzzed a text message.

Have a great first day on your new job, Sonny Boy. Hope it’s what you need to turn your life around.

Cody crammed the cell phone back into his pocket. He got the sub-message.
We hope you’re not still drinking.
If he answered his father before he managed to cool off, he’d say something he’d regret. He’d come late to his college professor parents, and they had never quite known what to do with him. Academia was their life, and for that reason, along with not wishing to add to the world’s population, they’d elected not to have children. He could just imagine their surprise when at forty-two, his mother had found out she was pregnant.

Someday, he’d tell his father that he hated the nickname Sonny Boy. And someday, he would make them proud of him. That happening had been set back at least ten years when the professors had shown up unannounced a few months before and found him drunk out of his stinking mind. They were one-glass-a-day wine drinkers, anti-war, anti-killing anyone for any reason. That his country considered him a hero for his high kill count embarrassed them.

After witnessing his slurring, they had tried to convince him to return home where they could get him help. The dogs, they’d said, could be taken to a no-kill shelter since his mother couldn’t tolerate animal hair. To keep from lashing out at the two people in the world he loved but didn’t understand, he’d called on the training and discipline he’d learned as a SEAL sniper and had calmly asked them to leave him alone. What they hadn’t understood and still didn’t was that the dogs gave him a reason to face another day and another day after that.

A few weeks after his parents had visited, his former commander, Logan Kincaid, had shown up unexpectedly. The next thing Cody knew, he was at a secret location learning all about the
Sealion
, a stealth boat that had only been whispered about among the SEAL teams. Soon after, he’d participated in a K2 mission and hadn’t touched a drop of liquor during the operation.

Since then, he’d cut out drinking during the day. Although he’d tried to make it through the nights without the numbing effects of alcohol, the nightmares had driven him back to the scotch bottle. Yet last night, he’d managed a few hours without the dreams. Well, he’d dreamed, but it had been of her, his neighbor with no name. He’d woken up with a massive hard-on, and he’d take that over the nightmares any day.

He pulled into the K2 parking lot at the same time as Ryan O’Connor, the team’s medic. The last time he’d seen Doc had been three months before in Helsinki when they’d gotten a defector and his family out of Russia using the
Sealion
.

“Heard you’re getting married,” he said, bumping Ryan’s shoulder hard enough to send the man sideways. “And I thought I was crazy.”

His friend came right back at him. “You
are
a crazy son of a bitch.”

Fully expecting it, he braced his body against the hard hit. “Oomph.”

Ryan laughed. “I heard that. You’ve gone soft, old man.”

It hadn’t been that long ago when his body wouldn’t have given way, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have made a girly sound. Although any civilian looking at him would think him in excellent condition, he’d gotten lax on his training regimen and wasn’t in the fighting form that was critical to their job. Time to get back in shape, in more ways than one.

If he didn’t get his head screwed on straight, Kincaid wouldn’t fire him, but he would ground him and send him to a head doctor. Cody knew this because the boss had been up front with him about his concerns. He appreciated the man’s honesty, but Cody would quit before reliving his nightmares with a shrink. That meant he had to get a grip because his sobriety depended on keeping the job and being back with his teammates.

After he spent a half hour with Maria Buchanan, Kincaid’s sister and team member Jake Buchanan’s wife, getting all his new hire paperwork in order, Maria took him on a tour of the facilities. He was impressed with what his former commander had achieved. K2 Special Services was a state-of-the-art operation, and Cody itched to be included as a valued member of the team. Because Kincaid knew he’d gone a little crazy—more crazy than normal—he’d have to prove he had his act together. He just wished that was actually true.

“Everything’s going to work out,” Maria said, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

How much had she heard about him? His cheeks heated, and Cody glanced away, pretending to study the open war room where support staff was gathered around Jamie Turner, known as Saint to the team because he didn’t drink, cuss, or brag about his conquests. He’d heard Saint had recently gotten married. What was with all the love crap going on with his teammates?

“Unless you’re involved in an operation, you’ll start each morning here,” Maria said, pulling open a door. She led him into the most amazing gym he’d ever seen. Every imaginable exercise machine—treadmill, rowing machine, NordicTrack—you name it, and it was here. Along the back wall were weightlifting benches, and there was even a boxing ring. About a dozen people were inside, working out on the various machines to the sound of high-energy rock music blaring from overhead speakers. Two men Cody pegged as personal trainers were walking around the room, stopping now and then to assist someone.

He spied his other former SEAL teammates, Kincaid, Buchanan, and O’Connor. Kincaid was the first to notice him and gave a slight lift of his chin, indicating Cody should join them.

“Hit the deck,” his boss said, when Cody reached them. “Last one to a hundred gets in the ring with me.”

Hell. That was going to be him, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t give it all he had. He dropped alongside the others and powered through the first seventy-five push-ups, then with his arm muscles quivering and sweat pouring off him, he got to ninety-two before he collapsed facedown on the floor. What was about to follow was going to hurt.

Kincaid stared down at him, his lips curling in disgust. “Five o’clock, Dog. In the ring.”

Cody gave a curt nod, embarrassed about his poor showing. On the plus side, he had until five to recover before he had to step into the ring and get knocked on his ass by the boss.

He spent the rest of the day familiarizing himself with K2 and the current operations going on in various parts of the world. Several times, he caught his thoughts straying to his neighbor, wanting to crack a smile at her giving him the finger. She was a feisty one. If he were in a better place . . . he quickly shut that kind of thinking down. Between being screwed up, starting a new job, and cutting down on the booze, he didn’t have any room left for a woman. Even if a certain part of him down below disagreed.

All too soon, the day passed, and he found himself in the ring with Kincaid. Reluctantly in the ring, he amended. The rest of the team, along with other K2 employees, lined the perimeter, and after no one would bet on him, they gave up trying to place wagers. That was a boost to his ego. Not.

The only edge he had was that he was crazy. In their frequent bouts in-country, his team had all been leery of him, including the boss, as they never knew what to expect from “Dog.” That would be his only advantage in the fight about to happen. The rules were that there were no rules, and although he’d come out on top more often than not with his teammates, he’d never bested his commander. Even a fool could predict that wasn’t going to change today, and he just hoped Kincaid wouldn’t hurt him . . . too much. That was his last thought as his vision centered on the fist coming at him.

“What happened?” Cody asked from his position, flat on his back on the mat, as Doc stared down at him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

Ryan O’Connor snorted. “First punch, you were out like a baby.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You were today. The others left, didn’t want to stick around and shame you.”

And wasn’t that humiliating? Cody pushed up and glanced around. There was no one in sight. “I thought he’d let me play with him for a round or two first, that maybe I’d get a lucky hit in.”

“He was teaching you a lesson.” Ryan stood. “Since you’re not dead, I’m outta here. Got a hot date with my girl.”

Alone, Cody tried to stand, only to end up back on his ass. As he sat, waiting for the fuzz in his brain to clear, he bristled at being likened to a baby. Okay, Ryan had intentionally said it to motivate him. Yeah, he got that. Well, he did once the fog lifted. And the boss, same thing. Getting knocked on his ass with the first punch was definitely a motivating message.

He pushed up with one hand while using the other to rub his aching jaw. Getting back in fighting form would be a piece of cake. First thing in the morning, he’d begin a training regimen. Between that and the workouts they all participated in during the workday, in two weeks, three weeks max, he’d be back in shape.

The getting his act together? Whole different story. At least, he could admit his head wasn’t where it should be. That was a good thing, right? You couldn’t fix a problem if you didn’t acknowledge it. The nightmares weren’t helping, nor was not sleeping. Damn strange how he had never had a problem with either of those things until he had opted out of the SEALs.

It was like as long as he was doing his job of killing people, he was good with it. He’d followed the ROE to a T, and those Rules of Engagement had been frustrating at best and downright stupid at worst. Too many times, he’d let a man live who he knew down to his toes was a terrorist, because in a military court his only defense for the kill would have been, “I just knew.”

Since that would have meant go straight to jail, do not pass go, he’d not pulled the trigger of his sniper rifle without verifiable proof that the terrorist lined up in his sights actually was a terrorist. Maybe what haunted him was the Marine private who had been killed because Cody hadn’t acted on his instincts. If there was one he knew of, how many other brothers in arms had died because of a bad guy he’d let live?

Riley glanced in her rearview mirror to see the truck behind her turn into the driveway across the street as she pulled into hers. Her mystery man climbed out of a silver pickup with dark tinted windows. She waved as she walked toward her door, and he responded with a barely discernable nod. Right, got it. Not going to be friendly. Probably for the best, because if sexy mystery man crooked his finger, she’d likely head right for him like the sex-starved woman she was.

All her energy and time the past year had gone into getting her veterinarian clinic up and running so she could pay off her student loans. No time to schedule sex into the appointment book, not even a ten-minute quickie. Before Sexy Mystery Man popped up, she’d not really given sex—or the lack thereof—much thought, being that she was worn out by the time she dragged herself home each night.

But she was thinking of it now—most especially the lack thereof—since her nameless neighbor had stood on his porch that morning, showing off a six-pack that merited serious admiration. Damn him, anyway.

Cats fed, a beer in the freezer, Riley took a quick shower, then slipped on panties and a robe. Although it had grown dark outside, she didn’t turn on any lights in her bedroom, but she did open her window. No sound of a guitar, so more disappointed than she’d expected to be, she retrieved her beer-turned-to-slush and spent the next hour trying to catch up on her bookkeeping.

It had only been the month before that she’d finally felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel where her income versus expenses was concerned.
Progress, gotta love it
. Arthur, the most affectionate of her three felines, had curled up on her lap while Merlin perched on the back of a chair watching Pelli bat a ball around on the floor.