Cody Walker's Woman

Cody knew he’d changed over the past two weeks in ways he couldn’t reconcile with his conscience. He’d never considered himself an alpha male—the leader of the wolf pack. Those were the Callahans of this world.

But ever since that day at his cabin, when he’d acknowledged that anyone who touched Keira was a dead man, he’d realized he didn’t know himself as well as he’d thought. In addition to his obsession with her, he could now add a dangerous possessiveness. Dangerous, because his growing frustration was telling him to just take, whether or not she wanted to give. And that wasn’t him at all. That had never been his style with women.

His protective instincts where Keira was concerned didn’t apply to him—he wanted to protect her from everyone and everything—except him.

Just tell her the truth. Right. That’ll work like a charm, Walker.

* * *

Keira pressed the “print” icon to send the last document to the secure printer, then locked her computer and rose from her desk. She stood by the printer, keyed in her pass code to release the documents, then drummed her fingers impatiently as the documents printed, one by one, forming an impressive stack. She could hardly wait to show Cody what she’d uncovered. He’d be just as excited as she was, and he’d be so proud of her he’d have to—

Have to what? she asked herself sharply, knowing all the while what the answer was.

He’d have to respect her. He’d have to admit she wasn’t the weak link on the team. Wasn’t that what she’d been thinking in the back of her mind all this time, ever since that day in his cabin in Wyoming? Proving herself to him? Making him respect her? Making him proud of her?

And why?

Keira picked up the stack of documents and walked slowly back to her office. She sat down and sorted the documents into a logical order, stapling certain pages together before placing everything in a file folder, as if she could distract herself by focusing on the case. But that wasn’t going to work—not anymore. Not now that she’d solved a major part of the puzzle.

Maybe you can hide it from everyone else, she told herself with brutal honesty, but you can’t hide it from yourself. You want him to be proud of you because...

Because she was falling in love with him.

She stared at the folder for a minute, her stomach churning along with her thoughts. She’d managed to suppress her wayward emotions for the past two weeks, sublimating what she now acknowledged as her growing love for Cody into her investigative zeal. But in her lonely bed at night, she’d cherished every moment they’d spent together, reliving in her mind his words, his smile and the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching.

Not to mention the way he’d kissed her at his cabin. The way her body ached for his touch so that she tossed and turned on her pillow every night before falling asleep and dreaming of him. The way her treacherous thoughts kept wandering down sensual pathways she’d never realized she wanted to follow.

She just hadn’t let herself focus on any of those things when Cody was around, because she didn’t want him to know how she felt. Not until she’d proven herself to him. Not until she regained the self-respect she’d lost when she’d needed him to rescue her.

He’d never touched her since that day at his cabin, but she knew he wanted her—she could see it in his eyes, could feel it emanating from him. And now... Keira took a deep breath as a secret smile began to form. She tucked the file folder under one arm and headed for the elevator.

* * *

Cody frowned and made a notation on his spreadsheet, a meager clue for one of the agents to follow up on. A sound made him look up from his computer. Keira was standing in the doorway to his office, a thick file folder under one arm and the expression on her face a dead giveaway...to him, at least. “You’ve got something,” he said immediately.

“I had to pierce the corporate veil on three shell companies, but, yes, I do.” She closed the office door behind her. “Does the name Michael Vishenko mean anything to you?”

Cody frowned. “No. Should it?”

“Would it mean something if you knew Vishenko was his mother’s maiden name?” A tiny smile teased the corners of her lips, and her eyes were electric. She put the file folder down on his desk, facing him, and flipped it open. “Marriage certificate for Mariella Vishenko thirty-five years ago...to David Pennington.”