Degrees of darkness, p.88
Degrees of Darkness, page 88
Why did the people she love hurt her the most?
• • •
He’d turned manipulation into a fine art. Maneuvering the last two men into position had been easy. What he hadn’t expected was for one to elude him for a time. But when people panicked, they revealed more than they hoped. He waited, watching Logan’s movements. And as expected, Logan led him right to Jack.
Here was Jack, panting like a dog against the pain that should be shooting through his entire body. With his arms pulled behind his back until it appeared like they’d been amputated from the shoulders, Jack hung, supported, between two of his men. The torture techniques used on him came in handy when getting what he wanted.
And what he wanted was to hear Jack scream.
Large beads of sweat dripped from Jack’s face. Blood stained the corners of his mouth and chin. Still, he refused to make any sound louder than a grunt.
With a tilt of his chin, he indicated the hook dangling from the steel crossbeams lodged in the rafters. The men dragged Jack to the spot. They hoisted his limp body from the floor, lining up his restrained arms with the hook, then waited for the signal.
“I wonder, Jack,” he took a faltering step forward, “if you suffer the same excruciating memories I do?”
The former corporal peered back at him through puffy eyelids. Jack’s head wobbled with the effort it must take to hold it up.
“Do you hear the pleas for help? Or maybe the screams of those people burning alive? Wasn’t it you who called in the airstrike? After all, you’re the one who had the radio.”
“I did what I had to. It was war.”
He sniffed and hobbled forward another step. “War. It has different meanings to different people.” He grabbed Jack’s cheeks and forced him to look right at him. “My voice was among those calling out. And none of you did a thing to help me.”
“You were dead,” Jack said between pinched lips.
“Does it look like I died? Better that I had, but the gods saw differently. No, they decided to keep me alive. Through everything, even torture by the enemy.” He released Jack’s face with a jerk and eased back a step. “Now I’m back to finish what you started. One more and the mission will be completed.”
A sob ripped past Jack’s lips. “I wouldn’t have called in the strike if I’d known. I watched you get mowed down.”
“Funny thing about those guns the villagers used, they were pieces of shit.” He flicked a finger to the men.
Jack made a feeble attempt to struggle as they secured the bonds around his wrist over the hook. Then they released him. The weight of Jack’s body made him fall quickly, yanking his arms up and backward.
The crack of bones and ligaments preceeded the man’s screams.
With a satisfied smile, he turned and left, to the sound of those continued screams. Jack would be dead within the hour. Now it was time to move against the man who brought down the horror on all of their heads.
Logan Lewis would experience every agony he’d lived through. After he watched his daughter suffer and die. Then Logan’s death would come slowly.
Chapter Seventeen
A note waited for Remy on the counter the next morning. He hadn’t slept well. Not being in his own bed next to Cody had weighed on his mind all night. And now this brief note.
I’m at a horse auction today.
No I love you. No mention of where the horse auction was taking place, or who she went with. Not even a timetable of when she’d be back. This was Cody being pissed off.
Crumpling the slip of paper in his fist, he chucked it at the wall with a curse. If she was gone, then their bedroom was unlocked and he could get in. She wouldn’t be that petty to deny him access to clean clothing.
He found the door open. The bed didn’t appear to have been slept in. A blanket was draped over the armchair. Apparently Cody couldn’t face his empty side of the bed either.
Showered, dressed, and ready for a heavy dose of caffeine, he skipped shaving and headed back to the kitchen. He made the dark roast, loaded up on leftover blueberry muffins, and left the house with a full travel mug in hand. The spot where her truck was normally parked was empty, as was Logan’s. But the place where Logan parked had been vacant yesterday when Remy got home, and he couldn’t recall hearing Logan return.
The squeal of hinges brought Remy around. One of the ranch hands rolled open the sliding doors on the stable where Cody kept her barrel horses. She wasn’t one to let anyone cover for her chores, and she always left the doors open and let the horses out into their individual paddocks after she finished. Had she taken care of them before she left?
Changing course, Remy went over to the ranch hand.
“Mornin’, Mister LeBeau,” the man said with a nod of his head.
“Morning. Did Cody ask you take care of her stock?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When was that?”
“’Bout an hour ago. She stopped by the bunk house and asked a few of us fellas to take care of things for the next few days. Then she took off.”
Suspicion needled Remy’s backside. “Have you seen her father?”
The cowhand thought a few seconds, then shook his head. “Nope, in fact, he never did come home last night. We ain’t seen him since early yesterday mornin’.”
“Thanks.”
With another nod, the cowboy went to work.
Remy went back to his Corvette, his mind churning. This wasn’t like either Cody or Logan. Wait a minute. Why would Cody go to a horse auction?
Better question would be, why the hell had she lied to him?
• • •
The landscaping for the Craftsman home was immaculate. Cody had visited once before after returning from Louisiana, but hadn’t been back since. She gave the door a rapid-fire knock and stepped back to wait.
A minute later it opened to reveal a barefoot Heath wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt. His day-old scruff made him look older than his thirty-one years. “Cowgirl, what are you doing here at this hour?” He scanned the driveway behind her. “Where’s LeBeau?”
“Probably reading my note. Can I come in?”
Cocking his head to the side, Heath pulled the door open wider.
Bolting inside, she shed her windbreaker and hugged it to her body. “He thinks I’m at an auction. Is there any way you can not go to work today?”
After shutting the door, Heath faced her and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Mind telling me why you lied to your husband and why you’re trying to get me in trouble?”
“I need your help and only you.”
Groaning, he spun on his heels and stalked into his living room. “Cody, I’ve got two ongoing homicides and a stack of work. I can’t just drop it all and help you like last time.”
She followed him. “This isn’t like last time. I’m not looking for Remy in a huge city. It’s about my daddy.”
“Why can’t you ask LeBeau? He’s your husband.”
“And a prick. He jumped down my throat last night over a stupid hearing that put a restraining order against my ex.” And right now, her emotions were on the edge. She was swinging between hating his guts to wanting to bawl her eyes out and spill out every sordid detail of why that restraining order went into place. But she couldn’t tell him. Because once she did, he’d go all vigilantly on her and seek out Austin to kill him. Remy had proven himself capable of it before, and leaving her out of it; what stopped him from doing it again? She was through with him swooping in to save the day. This was her battle, and she had to face it on her own.
The frown lines on Heath’s face deepened. “Come again?”
“Yes, Dad and I had a restraining order put in place after Dad kicked Austin McCord out of my life. It’s still active.”
“You know, that would’ve been good to know about three days ago. If you think he’s after you again ...”
“Heath, I don’t know if it’s him anymore.” She dug around in the jacket pockets and removed the items she’d found in her dad’s home. “I found these this morning.” She fanned the defaced cards. “And this.” She held up the note with the Shakespeare quote. “The cards are exactly like the one that was left on the brick thrown through the window the other night. And this note was with them.”
Heath took the cards and paper from her and examined them. “Did you find anything else?”
Lips pinched together, she slid out the photos she’d discovered laying on Dad’s bed. She’d never seen them before but recognized what they were. “These photos were from his time in Vietnam.”
Once Heath had the pictures in his hand, Cody tangled her jacket around her arms. “I haven’t seen him since he left for Dallas early yesterday morning. I went to his cabin before I came here and found it empty and those lying around. He’s been acting weird the past few days, and I think those cards have something to do with it.”
Heath’s eyes narrowed as he studied one card, then: “Shit! This is what that small pattern looked like.”
Startled by the loudness of his voice, Cody stiffened. “What pattern?”
Tucking the things she’d taken from her father’s home together, he left the living room and disappeared into adjoining room. Curious, she trailed after, walking into a small office area. Heath stuffed the photos, cards, and note into a plastic bag and then placed it inside a desk drawer and locked it.
“What are you doing?”
“Protecting those.” Heath pocketed the key. “You say nothing to LeBeau about this. I need to do some research on your dad’s unit in Vietnam.”
“How are you going to do that? He won’t tell anyone about what happened to him over there. Momma didn’t even know.”
A weird expression criss-crossed his features. “Cody, I think your momma knew more than you know.” With that, he sidestepped around her and headed back to the front of the house.
“Are you insane?” she darted after him. “Daddy has never talked about it. And how would my momma know?”
Heath stopped and turned. Unprepared for his sudden movements, Cody slammed into his broad chest. He gripped her shoulders to help steady her. Instead of letting go immediately, like a normal friend would do, he held on. What the hell? He flat out told her yesterday he never had feelings for her. Had he lied to get her to talk about Austin?
Or was she making something out of nothing here? That was it. He was being considerate. She was the idiot who ran into him. She was sensing things that weren’t there because she and Remy were fighting. Heath was her friend and nothing more.
She shrugged out of his hold and backed a step. “Explain yourself, Marine.”
“Not yet. Let me check on some things and then I might have some better answers for you.”
“What is with you men and this need to keep things from me?”
Heath’s narrowed eyes made her shiver. What was with these cops and their intense stare downs, too?
“Same could be asked of you, Cody. Have you told anyone about what happened between you and McCord?”
Her hackles went up. “That doesn’t concern you. The fact that you guessed what happened doesn’t make you my therapist.”
“You really are pushing every button, full throttle.” He scrubbed his face, the sound of his whiskers rasping against his palms filling the room. “This is the third time you’ve come to me for help, and all three times LeBeau has never found out until after the fact.” He groaned. “Why am I the one who gets dragged into this?”
“Because I trust you.”
Two ringtones went off at the same moment. Cody jerked at the sound of her phone in her Wranglers. Heath left the room in search of his phone, while she dragged hers out of her pocket.
She answered, wincing. “Hi.”
“Cody, where the hell are you?” The irritation in Remy’s voice put her back up.
“I left a note. Didn’t you read it?”
“Stop lying to me. I know you’re not at a horse auction.”
She could hear the hum of the Corvette’s engine. The moment she gave away where she was, he’d haul ass over here. Not gonna happen. “You know, sometimes I need to get away.”
“To where?”
Anywhere you aren’t. “If I told you, then you’d go there to find me every time I decided I needed some space.”
The caustic French spewing from his mouth made her flush hot. Just because he said it in French didn’t lesson the meaning. Sometimes she wished the Lewises had held onto their Celtic language when they arrived in America.
“From the sounds of your attitude, you need more time to cool off.”
“Cody, I had plenty of time to cool off.”
Heath returned to the office, his mouth drawn into a grim line. She turned her back to him and pressed the phone closer to her ear.
“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I have to go.”
“Oh, believe me, cher, we will talk about this later. Go home.”
The connection ended before she could retort. Her blood simmered in her veins. Oh, if he were standing here, she’d slap him. Tapping the end icon on her phone, she slowly pivoted to Heath.
“Go home, cowgirl. I’ve been called into a new scene, and I bet that’s where LeBeau’s headed.”
She nodded and moved to leave. As she passed him, Heath placed his hand against her shoulder and eased her to a halt.
“You don’t look too healthy.”
Shrugging off his hand, she untangled her jacket and slipped it on. “I’m fine. He’s in a pissy mood, so be careful.”
“I’m starting to think it’s a good thing I never got married.”
As Cody left his home, she was beginning to think it had been a mistake to marry after knowing Remy for such a short time.
• • •
The cool wind buffeting Logan held the promise of rain. He hunched deeper into his all-weather coat and buried his hands in the pockets. The fresh lilies bent over the edge of the silver vase fixed at the base of his wife’s tombstone.
After his disturbing conversation with Hump, Logan had refused to return home. He killed the hours in a bar where no one knew him and then slept in the truck. Once the first floral shop opened for the day, he bought the lilies and came the cemetery.
For the last forty-five minutes he stood here, staring at her headstone and remembering.
At his first encounter with Jodi Malone, he hadn’t known her real name. She’d been going by the alias of Samantha Oliver, and working as a MASH unit nurse.
Three squads had been ambushed on their return from patrol. Logan had carried the body of yet another cocky lieutenant out of the fray, but this time, it wasn’t his LT. He shoved through the mess of wounded and medical personnel to offload the kid’s body onto an empty stretcher.
“This one’s bad. Not sure he’s going to make it,” he said to the olive drab backside.
That trim backside rotated and he was hit with the full force of piercing green eyes offset by a pale face covered in freckles and surrounded by wild, flaming red hair. “And who made you the authority on who lives and who doesn’t?” she snapped.
Logan scanned her uniform: rank, major; medical insignia; name, Oliver. “Excuse me, Major, but I’ve carried enough of those boys off the field in that condition to know. He took shrapnel to the gut and the bandages are holding him together. Consider him DOA.”
Her gaze dropped to his chest, then back up. “What is your rank, soldier?”
“Not important, ma’am.”
Oliver opened her mouth to say something when a barked command interrupted her.
“Lewis, step off and let the lady do her job.”
With a rogue, double finger salute to her, he about-faced and joined his LT at the entrance to the tent.
“Hey, Lewis!”
He glanced over his shoulder at the major and her salute of the bird in his direction. With a chuckle he left the tent.
Logan sighed and crouched down until he was eye level with her name. As a reminder of what they’d gone through together in Nam, Cody’s middle name was Jodi’s alias. When their daughter had gotten into trouble and her full name came out, Logan would always grin. Cody was her father’s daughter, but she carried more of her mother’s traits than she could imagine.
Jodi was more likely to jump into trouble headfirst than Logan.
The sounds of a fight attracted Logan’s attention as the small band of guys from his squad headed for the nearest watering hole. He grabbed Prophet’s arm and dragged him to a stop.
“Ya hear that?”
Hump and Prophet turned, listening. A few shouts and the crash of metal on wood reached them. The bark of a woman’s voice sent all three men running. When they rounded the back of the bar, they encountered a sight they didn’t see often.
Logan gaped when he recognized the woman holding her own in a fistfight with a hulking Vietnamese male. “Shit, that’s Major Oliver.”
His comment startled the brawlers. Oliver used the distraction to pistol-whip her opponent in the back of the skull. The large man crumpled. That energized the group and the fight resumed with more fervor. Logan and crew joined in; he eventually worked his way around until he was back to back with Oliver.
Once the Vietnamese thugs were left writhing in the filthy alley, Oliver shoved Logan’s shoulder. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Same could be said for you, ma’am.”
Two American males in civies flanked her. “You know them?” one asked.
She pointed at Logan. “I’ve met him. The rest of these guys I’ve never seen before.”
“What should we do with them?” the other asked.
Prophet and Hump bracketed Logan, ready to defend him.
Oliver waved her hand at the two men behind her. “I’ll take care of this. You two get out of here before the locals get suspicious.”
The two disappeared into the shadows. Once she was certain they’d gone, Oliver rifled through the thugs’ clothing until she found whatever it was she had been looking for.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked.
Pocketing her find, she straightened and scowled at him. “Sergeant, that’s none of your business.”
“You do realize we just saved your bacon, ma’am.”
