Six weeks later…

He’d seen death before. Many times. Hell, he’d been the instrument of death more times than he liked to think about. Death was not a surprise to him.

And yet Miranda Lockwood’s death still haunted him. Cody took a swig of his beer and watched the guys playing pool. They were at Buddy’s tonight, the team having returned from a mission just a week ago. It had been a quick in and out, and now they were back. He would have liked the mission to last longer. To be more distracting.

But it hadn’t been, and he was still thinking about Miranda’s golden hair and whiskey eyes. About the way she’d sighed and moaned when he’d been inside her, taking them both to nirvana. Jesus, being inside her had been exciting. Being with her had been exciting.

And now she was gone. Her life snuffed out on the side of an Arizona desert road. What the fuck did it all mean?

“You playing, dude, or what?” It was Cage looking at him. Cage, who was a shark at pool even though he didn’t look it. Cody knew better than to bet money against Cage when it came to a game. Cage was busy taking out the members of HOT’s Echo Squad since they hadn’t gotten fully acquainted with his sharkiness yet. Alpha Squad knew better already. The SEALs definitely knew better.

Cody tipped up his beer again. “Nope. Just watching you fleece our teammates.”

Cage grinned. One of the Echo guys was lining up a shot as Cage came over and leaned against the tall table Cody sat at. “Not fleecing. I’m a married man now. Have to put away money for the missus and me.”

Cody snorted. “Dude, your wife is part owner of an oil company. You don’t need the money.”

Cage shrugged. “You never know, man. Rainy days and all that, mon ami.”

Yeah, you damn well never knew. Never knew that the woman who abducted you in broad daylight would be dead twenty-four hours later no matter how hard you tried to protect her. Never knew how empty and cold that would make you feel or how you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. How it would wake you up in the middle of the night, your body covered in sweat and your throat raw from the screaming you’d done.

Whatever he’d dreamed about before Miranda, it was nothing compared to what he dreamed about after Miranda.

“Hey, you okay, Cowboy?”

Cody met Cage’s gaze. His teammate was looking at him quizzically. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

Cage blew out a breath. “You haven’t been yourself since Vegas.”

His insides crystallized into ice. “I’m fine. It’s nothing we haven’t encountered many times before.”

“Yeah, except she was shot on your watch.”

Cody shrugged. “She was dangerous. A loose cannon.”

Cage’s gaze sharpened. “You don’t believe that.”

There was a lump in Cody’s throat. A fucking lump. “No, I really don’t. I know the CIA thought so. I know the skipper thought so. I guess they know more than I do. But I still can’t wrap my head around it. She could have killed me if she’d wanted. Killed me and taken the truck. She didn’t. They haven’t fucking explained that one to me yet.”

He’d driven back to Vegas that day, as directed, his heart throbbing and his gut aching the entire time. He’d replayed the scene over and over again. What the fuck had possessed Miranda to step out in front of the truck the way she had? She was a fighter, not a quitter. He knew that much about her after one night together.

But then she’d said to him as she’d kissed his cheek that it was over, that he’d tried. Before he knew what she was about, she’d stepped into the open.

She’d fucking quit. Why? It didn’t add up in his head.

He’d gone into autopilot mode as he’d driven across the desert. He’d found Maggie at the Bellagio, draped over the arm of a high roller. A married man by the looks of the ring on his finger. Cody had sobered her up and returned her to his grandparents even though they all knew she’d take off again. He’d spent a few days herding cattle on the ranch to clear his head, then went back to Vegas and watched Cage marry Christina with Elvis officiating. It had been over the top, but not tacky. The SEALs were all there, as well as most of Alpha Squad.

He’d tried to be happy for Cage, but he kept seeing Miranda sprawled in the dirt, blood seeping from her body. They hadn’t even let him check her for vitals.

As if there would have been any. As if he could have saved her.

Returning to DC hadn’t been any easier. Mendez called him in the moment he was back. The skipper was a tough man to read, but there was sympathy and even anger in his gaze when Cody went into his office. He hadn’t understood the anger at all. Still didn’t.

“I’m sorry it went down that way,” Mendez said. “I did what I could do. It wasn’t enough.”

“I know you tried, sir. Thank you.”

“This situation turned out to be bigger than HOT’s mandate. I had to cooperate with the CIA on this one. The result was not what I wanted.”

“I appreciate your help, sir.”

And that was the end of that. Well, other than a visit to the shrink. Just like coming home from any other mission, there was a mandatory debrief. The only thing that wasn’t like other missions was the debrief with the CIA. It took everything he had not to lose his shit with those guys—but Samantha Spencer wasn’t there, which was the only thing that prevented it. If she’d strolled in— Well, it wouldn’t have ended well for him, that was for certain. There were things he wanted to know, and Samantha was the one with the answers.

The agents sent to question him were very thorough, asking for every last detail of his time with Miranda. He gave them the facts and nothing else. Then they wanted to know about her death. He gave the information to them coldly and matter-of-factly, burning with anger as he did so. When he finished, he stood and snapped to attention before walking out and leaving them with their pens and notepads. They hadn’t dismissed him, but he’d gone anyway.

They had not called him back.

A week later, the SEALs were on a mission and Miranda settled to the back of his brain. She never went away, no matter what he did.

Of all he’d seen and done, she haunted him quite possibly the most. Why?

Cage tapped his stick against the floor, jarring Cody from his thoughts. “Maybe she had another plan,” he said, and Cody had to think for a second.

Oh, right. They’d been talking about the fact that Miranda hadn’t killed him when she’d had the chance. “Could be,” he replied. Because what else was he supposed to say? That she wasn’t a rogue agent, that she’d tasted fucking amazing, and that she’d screamed so sweetly when he’d taken her to orgasm again and again?

Cage gripped his shoulder and gave him a friendly squeeze. “I’m on your side, buddy. Swear to God. If you say she wasn’t going to kill you, I believe it. But it doesn’t matter anymore, yeah? She’s gone and she ain’t coming back.”

Cody didn’t answer because he didn’t need to.

“Hey, mon ami,” Cage called to the Echo Squad guy, moving toward the pool table. “You ready to lose?”

“Cocky, aren’t you? I missed one ball. There are a lot left to sink.”

Cage laughed. “Yeah, man. That’s me. Cocky to a fault. Watch and weep, baby,” he said as he bent over the table and lined up the shot.

Cody glanced over at the television hanging above the bar. Buddy kept it on a news channel most of the time, and tonight was no exception. But the headline scrolling across the bottom caught Cody’s attention.

Victor Conti Flees US Ahead of Alleged Arrest Warrant

Ice settled in Cody’s belly. Jesus. Not only was Miranda dead, but Victor-fucking-Conti wasn’t even going to be held accountable for any of his crimes. He’d gotten away with everything and paid nothing. Miranda had gotten away with nothing and paid everything.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Cody signaled the waitress and ordered another beer. He had a feeling he was going to need a few more before the night was through.

* * *

“Man, you need me to go in with you?”

Cody turned his head to look at Cash “Money” McQuaid. His teammate was a little blurry, but not too bad. Yeah, he’d had a few, and yeah, he’d had to leave his car behind and let Cash bring him home. He’d get his car in the morning when Cash swung by and picked him up again.

Provided his head hadn’t cracked open by then. He sure knew enough about the mechanics of a hangover, thanks to Maggie, to know what was coming. Not that he hadn’t had one or two himself, but he generally avoided them. Growing up with a mother who needed you to hold her hair while she puked and then asked you to bring her aspirin and a sports drink in the morning when her head was pounding sort of knocked the desire for overindulgence right out of a fella.

Except for tonight apparently.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Just get me tomorrow. Eight sharp.”

Money laughed. “I kinda doubt that, Cowboy. Good thing we’re still on leave or your ass would be hurting if you had to report to Mendez at 0600.”

“Yeah, whatever. Call me. I’ll be ready.”

Money looked at him with more sympathy than Cody liked. Dammit, did everybody think he was still broken up over the Miranda thing?

“You’ve had a rough few weeks. It’s understandable you’d want to tie one on. I think you can take the time to recover properly. How about you call me tomorrow when you’re ready? I’ll come get you.”

Cody fumbled for the door handle. He just wanted to get inside and lie down. Forget things for a while. “Fine. I’ll call you.”

The door opened and he stepped onto the pavement. The ground wobbled a little, but it was mostly okay. He shut the door and started up the sidewalk, reaching into his jeans pocket for his keys. His apartment was on the third floor, and he had to walk up the central stairwell to get to it since there was no elevator. He normally didn’t think twice about it, but tonight he sure wished he didn’t have to go so far.

He started up the steps, holding on to the railing as much to steady himself as to guide his steps. Once he reached the top landing, he only had to turn left and his door was right there. First he had to get to the top though.

He made it up to the first landing and turned. The light was out at the second landing, but it had been that way since before he’d gone on the last mission. He made a mental note to call the super or change the damn thing himself.

Cody started up the next set of steps, the beer sloshing in his belly more than he would like. Dammit, this was why he didn’t overindulge. Why he normally had more control. It was all because of Miranda. His life had been different since that day in the desert, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He reached the top of the next landing—and a man stepped out of the shadow of a doorway, startling him. That pissed him off because his senses were usually better than that. He relied on them to keep him alive out in the field, and now he couldn’t even tell there was a guy on the landing?

Good thing this wasn’t an op.

“Hey, man,” he said by way of friendly greeting.

“Hey, yourself,” the guy said. And then something jammed into Cody’s ribs from behind.

“What the—?” he said, starting to turn.

“Don’t move, asshole,” a guy’s voice growled.

The beer wasn’t helping matters, but Cody had enough training and determination to center his thoughts and focus in a way he hadn’t been able to only a moment before.

“What do you want? My wallet? It’s in my back pocket.”

“No, we don’t want your wallet,” the guy in front of him said. “You’re coming with us—and you’re doing it quietly.”

“All right.” He wasn’t going quietly, but damned if he was telling them that. He still had his keys in his hand, and he shifted them around until he had one sticking between his fingers like a weapon. Think, Cody.

“Care to tell me what this is about?”

The guy behind him snorted. “Mr. Conti wishes to speak to you.”

Cody blinked. “Wow, really? I thought he left the country.”

“Which is why you’re leaving too.”

“Damn, I’d love to help, but I really can’t do that, fellas.”

“You don’t have a choice, asshole.”

“I think I do.” He’d been trained in a hell these guys couldn’t imagine to react precisely the way he did. He let years of conditioning take over. Without thinking about it, he disarmed the guy behind him in one swift move and then pivoted to shove the key into the guy’s throat. A second later as the other guy moved in, Cody kicked the man’s knees from beneath him and then disabled him with a sharp blow to the neck.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” It was Money’s voice. Cody looked up to see his teammate’s gaze flicking between the two men on the landing.

“Hey, Money. What brings you here?”

“You left your phone in my car. I had to turn around and bring it back. Now what the fuck is this?”

Cody nodded toward the guys on the ground. “Think they’re friends of Victor Conti’s.”

“Aw, hell.” Money pulled out his phone. “That means we have to call Viking—and he’s gonna call Mendez.”

Cody shrugged. He was too far gone to care. “Better call an ambulance too. I might have cut this one’s jugular.”