Cody (13 page)

All thought faded as his body tensed and his muscles tightened and his survival instincts kicked in. His fangs sharpened and a growl vibrated his vocal chords.

And then Cody turned to face the vampire that stood directly behind him.

“C
HILL, BRO
.”

The deep, familiar voice slithered into Cody’s ears a split second before he found himself staring at his past.

Brent Braddock held up his hands. “Easy.” He crossed the few feet that separated them. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“As if you could.”

A grin tugged at the older vampire’s lips. “You have a short memory, otherwise you’d distinctly remember the time I hog-tied you and hung you from that magnolia tree.”

Before they’d been turned.

The mention of the past tugged at something soft inside Cody and for a split second, the wall that had erected between him and his brothers that fateful night seemed to crumble just a little.

Staring at Brent Braddock was like staring at a slightly older version of himself. His brother had the same dark hair, the same angular jaw, the same broad shoulders and muscular body. The only thing different was his eyes. They were a pale, translucent green.

He dressed different, too. He wore black leather pants, a fitted black button-down shirt—the ends untucked—
and gleaming black Roper boots. He looked every bit one of those big city types playing at being a real cowboy. But Cody knew better.

Brent was hard-core. He could ride. Rope. Shoot. The Braddock boys had been the fastest guns in the Confederacy, but Brent had always been a little bit faster. A little more dangerous. A lot more reckless.

While Cody had a wild streak, Brent had an I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude that made him much more lethal. To others and himself. A trait that had wiped out the loyalty he’d once felt to his brothers and taken over completely once he’d been turned.

Cody flashed back to one of the many times he and his brothers had sat by the campfire, plotting their next raid, sharing their thoughts, sharing themselves.

They’d had each other’s backs. A band of brothers.
Once
.

Bitterness welled inside of him and his chest tightened. He turned, walked the few feet toward his motel door and shoved the keycard into the slot.

“What are you doing here?” he asked when Brent came up behind him.

“I’m here to kill Sawyer.”

Cody pushed open the door and walked inside. “I didn’t realize he had a bounty on his head.”

“He doesn’t.” Brent followed him in and kicked the door shut. “I’m doing this for free.”

Flipping on a light, Cody turned on his brother. “You don’t do anything for free.”

Brent shrugged and sprawled in a nearby chair. “Maybe we’re not the only ones he screwed over.”

Cody cut him a glance. “So you’re here for someone else.”

Brent swept a glance at the room. “Bull riding not paying as well as it used to?”

“It pays just fine. This is the best room in the motel.”

Another sweep of his pale green gaze and Brent grinned. “That’s not saying much.”

“Yeah, well a room’s a room.” Cody’s gaze collided with Brent’s and held steady. “You didn’t answer my question. Is there somebody else after Sawyer?”

“Maybe.”

He studied his brother a moment longer. “You suck at lying,” he finally said.

Tense silence wound around them for a long moment before Brent shrugged again. “I had some time off. I saw the magazine. I figured I’d come down and get in a little target practice before my next assignment.”

Back in the old days—after The Turning—Brent had become one of the most ruthless hired guns in Texas. Now he called himself a bodyguard and worked for the highest bidder. Some were rich. Some were famous. Some were both. All of them were scared.

“I thought you were in France with Brad and Ang?”

“That was last year. I quit. The money was good, but following around a bunch of kids isn’t my style.”

Brent was every bit the adrenaline junkie that Cody was and so he thrived on danger. “I’ve been in Brazil running interference between a high-ranking political official and a local drug cartel that wants him six feet under.”

“How the hell did you see an American motorcycle mag in Brazil?”

“Señor Juarez has a thing for Harleys. He’s got a huge collection of bikes and he subscribes to all the industry magazines.”

“So you saw the article and headed here?”

“I see all those bulls haven’t knocked anything loose yet.”

“What about Juarez? Doesn’t he still have a target on his back?”

“He’ll find someone else to keep the wolves at bay. No big deal.”

Because nothing was a big deal to Brent since the night Garret Sawyer had robbed them of everything—their family, their humanity. While he couldn’t avoid The Turning once a year, he didn’t hang around and exchange words the way Colton and Travis did. He was too busy rushing off to the next job, raking in the cash, refusing to look back. To feel the pain. The remorse.

He didn’t seem to have a problem with revenge, however.

“Where is he?” Brent’s voice was easy and casual, as if he’d asked the time of day. But Cody didn’t miss the hard glint in his eyes and the stern set of his jaw.

“Out of town. He gets back on Friday.”

“That sucks.”

Boy, did it ever.

Not only did Cody have to wait around for the next three days, but he had to stay away from Miranda.

He
would
stay away from her.

Especially now.

Now that he loved her.

He really and truly
loved
her.

The knowledge sat heavy inside of him and made him all the more determined. No way was Cody going to break her heart the way his bastard of a father had broken his mother’s. He couldn’t guarantee a future and so he was getting the hell out of Dodge just as soon as he ended Sawyer’s miserable existence.

If he ended it.

He pushed aside the doubt. Of course he was killing Sawyer. The vampire had taken everything from Cody and his brothers.
Everything
.

Once Friday hit, Garret Sawyer would be history.

Until then, Cody was keeping his damned head on straight and remembering who he was. What he was.

He eyed his older brother. “So are you going to stick around and help me?”

Brent grinned, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t travel thousands of miles to let you have all the fun.”

S
HE WAS
NOT
FALLING FOR HIM
.

That’s what Miranda told herself as she tossed and turned the rest of the night, trying to forget Cody Braddock and the fact that he’d walked away from her.

Even now, tucked safely in her bed, wearing her favorite nightshirt, she wanted to go after him. She wanted it so much that it scared her because she’d never wanted a man the way she wanted Cody Braddock.

A vampire, she reminded herself. Not a man.

He was something unnatural. Larger than life.

It only made sense that she would want him.

But she didn’t
need
him. That was the only bright
spot in everything. She wasn’t her mother and she wasn’t going to end up broken. Her mother hadn’t been able to tell the difference between love and lust, but Miranda could. The attraction she felt had everything to do with their physical connection and nothing to do with the fact that she connected with him on a deeper level. That she shared the pain he felt for his own mother because she knew what it was like to lose someone.

She turned onto her side and tried to ignore the past that rushed at her. Memories of a young girl holding her mother’s hand, begging her to stay alive because as negligent and weak as her mother had been, Miranda had loved her anyway.

But her mother hadn’t loved Miranda back. Not enough to hold on until the ambulance had arrived.

She’d died right there on the living room floor and Miranda had made up her mind to never,
ever
fall for a man so deeply, so intensely that she lost herself. She would never love a man more than everyone else in her life. More than herself.

Not that she had to worry about that at this moment. She didn’t love Cody Braddock. She
wouldn’t
love him. Even more, she wasn’t making the same dumb mistake twice. She might have surrendered tonight, but it wasn’t happening again.

The deal was over.

No more list. No more sex.

No more Cody.

Miranda gave up trying to fall asleep, climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Peeling off her
clothes, she stepped into a warm shower and let the spray hit her directly in the face.

And then she didn’t have to worry about the tears slipping down her cheeks or wonder why in the world she was crying over a man she didn’t love.

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS TURNED OUT
to be the worst of Miranda’s life.

She overslept on Tuesday and missed Coffee and Comics with the seniors. She locked her keys in the rental car Darrell had given her since her own car still wasn’t fixed. She broke her heel during the short walk home. She ripped a hole in her favorite nightshirt crawling into bed that night and stabbed herself in the eye the next morning with the mascara wand.

The bad luck continued throughout the day—she stepped in a pile of dog poop on the way to work, accidentally deleted part of next week’s schedule on her computer, then set Mr. Periwinkle’s toupee on fire when she was lighting table candles in the senior dining room that evening.

While she made it to work on Thursday morning in time for Muffin Mania—a truth or dare type game followed by muffins and juice on the patio—she still missed most of the fun due to a mix-up in the food delivery for Friday night’s sock hop. Once she’d managed to get two hundred spicy mini burritos (a definite no-no with her clientele) exchanged for the requested pigs-in-a-blanket, it was already well past noon.

She ended up eating leftovers for lunch in the dining room—chipped beef and Jell-O—because she’d forgotten to bring her own.

“You’ve definitely got something on your mind,” Martha told her when they both hit the cafeteria at the same time. The old woman had missed the meal, too, thanks to an addiction to the much-loved
Times of Our Lives
, a new soap opera that aired at noon. “A man?” she asked when Miranda mistook a glass of prune juice for iced tea.

“Not exactly.”

“Either
he
is or
she
isn’t.” The old woman took a bite of her own Jell-O. “In any case, I’m here if you need me. And just so’s you know, I’ve got oodles of experience when it comes to matters of the heart. Been counseling my granddaughter for ages.”

“The accountant?”

“That’s the one.”

A grin tugged at Miranda’s lips. “The single accountant?”

“It ain’t my fault if she don’t listen to what I tell her. She’s too interested in them stuffy types and they’re more interested in work. There’s never any sparks. You gotta have the sparks. Preferably a great big Roman candle, but one of those itty bitty sparklers will work, too. Just so long as it’s enough fireworks to put a gleam in your eye. Like the one you got in yours. You’re a lucky gal. Very lucky.”

Miranda’s head snapped up and for a split second, she would have sworn that Martha was taking about Cody Braddock. “Excuse me?”

“That you found Mr. Starch Pants. You’ve obviously got a nice little fireworks show going on between the two of you judging by the look on your face.”

“Um, yeah.” Sort of. Greg was lacking in the romance department and he wasn’t the most thoughtful man, but he was the right man.

The only man, she told herself for the millionth time since Cody had walked into her life.

Martha eyed her and she had the unnerving feeling that the woman was seeing a lot more than she wanted her to. “You do love him, don’t you?”

Yes
was right there, but it stalled on the tip of her tongue. “There are more important things than love.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Trust. Respect.”

“I trust Morty Milner over there,” she pointed an arthritic finger at a small, frail man with eyeglasses and a
lot
of nose hair. “The man was a judge for years and he’s the fairest person I know. I also respect him, but you couldn’t get me down the aisle with him if you had a cattle prod poking me in the ass.” She wagged her Jell-O spoon. “Love is
the
most important thing and if anybody tells you different, they’ve never been in love. I was married to my dear Arnold for forty-five years and they were the best of my life.”

“But what if it’s a bad love?” Miranda finally asked after a long, silent moment. “One that brings out the worst in you?”

“Love is love, sugar. It brings out the worst in all of us, and the best. That’s the beauty of it.”

But there was nothing beautiful about what had
happened to Miranda’s mother. She’d died a broken woman. And all because she’d fallen in love.

Not this girl.

Miranda held tight to her resolve, but it did little to calm the anxiety that ate away inside of her as the day wore on.

It was
Thursday
.

Cody would face off with the vampire who’d killed his family tomorrow night and then he would leave Skull Creek for good.

If he
survived.

Either way, she would never see him again.

Never touch him. Never talk to him.

The notion should have been comforting. Instead, it ate away at her as she headed home and spent another restless night trying to forget the one man who’d turned her world upside down.

No matter how sure Martha had been of her words, she’d obviously never experienced the bad side of love. She’d never seen the devastation, never felt the pain.

But Miranda had seen and felt both. It was a lesson she’d learned early on. One she would never forget.

No matter how much she suddenly wanted to.

C
ODY MEANT TO STAY AWAY
from her. He really did.

He managed to do just that, too, but when he opened his eyes Friday evening, he could no longer resist. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, he just knew that staying away was killing him.

His gaze skittered to the window and the faint glow of dusk that outlined the shades before shifting to the vampire stretched out on the chair. Brent was still sound
asleep, his entire body deathly still, his cowboy hat tipped low over his forehead, hiding his face.

Awareness zipped up and down Cody’s spine and anxiety pulsed through him. His gut clenched and he knew it was time.

Garret was back.

He took a quick shower and dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He was just pulling on his boots when he heard his brother’s voice.

“Keep it down, would ya?” Brent still had the hat tipped low, his body still sprawled in the chair.

“I’ve got to go out for a little while. I’ll swing by in an hour to pick you up.”

“I’ll be ready. Now get out before I kick you out. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Nice to see that you’re still as bossy as ever.”

“That’s what big brothers are for.”

Cody grinned, the expression fading as he pulled open the door and stepped out onto the front walk. He cast a quick glance around and tuned his senses for any sign of Benny James. The man had been invisible for the past few days, but Cody had known he was there anyway. He’d been asking questions around town. The diner. The local convenience store. While Cody had managed to keep to himself and hole up in his room most of the time, he knew that someone, somewhere had seen him. And that someone would tell Benny. And the man would stick around even longer.

Cody listened for the frantic beat of a heart, the sharp intake of breath.

Nothing.

He heard only the sound of the ice machine and the clatter of binoculars as Eldin lowered his Nikon’s and shot Cody a quick salute from the lobby window.

He acknowledged the man and headed for his truck. Climbing behind the wheel, he gunned the engine and pulled out of the drive. Hanging a left toward the senior center, he ignored the warning that went off in his head and told him he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Just leave, already
.

But he couldn’t.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. He just knew he had to see her one more time.

One last time.

“I
F EULA KEEPS TWISTING
like that, she’s liable to throw out her hip.” Beula stuffed a pigs-in-the-blanket into her mouth and eyed her sister who stood in the middle of the dance floor wearing a pink poodle skirt and cat’s eye glasses. “That or she’s liable to give herself a hernia.”

“I’d prefer the hernia to the hip,” Mildred Stockton said. She sipped her pink milkshake (made with lactose-free milk) and eyed the dance floor. “I wish I could do that.”

“You should try,” Miranda told her. “It’s easy.”

“You won’t get me out there,” Beula huffed. “Not with my arthritis.”

“Come on, Miss Mildred.” Miranda took the old woman’s hand. “I’ll dance with you.”

“Careful, Mildred,” Dora Lee’s voice followed them. “She’ll have you pole-dancing before the night’s over.”

“Why don’t you tell that old biddy where to go?” Mildred asked when they reached the dance floor. “You shouldn’t let her be so mean to you.”

“It doesn’t matter what she says.” It didn’t, Miranda realized as she started to twist. She could feel Dora Lee’s eyes on her, yet the disapproval she saw didn’t bother her as much as it usually did.

Nothing could make her feel as awful as she’d felt the past few days without Cody Braddock.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, she saw him filling up the doorway. He looked as handsome as ever in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d run his hands through it too many times to count. His mouth was pulled into a tight line. His eyes sparkled, so hot and molten and her breath caught.

“I need to go and check on the refreshments,” she told Mildred before leaving the old woman dancing with the others. She headed for the opposite side of the room, determined to keep as much distance between her and Cody as possible.

Distance was good. Distance would save her.

The twist faded into a slow, soulful song that hollowed out her stomach and made her swallow.

“Can I have this dance?” Cody’s deep voice slid into her ears. Her mouth dried out and her nipples pebbled and every nerve in her body throbbed to full awareness. She knew then that running away wasn’t going to solve her problem. It was here, standing behind her, waiting.

She drew in a deep, shaky breath and sent up a silent prayer for strength.

And then she turned around.