THE NIGHT—ACTUALLY, it was morning now, well after one a.m.—was cool and silent, the only light coming from the blue water of the community underground pool. Ellie looked out into the distance, trying to make out the mountains hidden behind the darkness. She had continued drinking after the police commissioner left and she felt good and numb, all the different voices in her head finally quiet—maybe because of the whiskey, or maybe because Cody was sitting next to her, or maybe a combination of both.
They were sitting on the back porch, in a pair of cheap white plastic Adirondack chairs. They had gone through the shared relief of her being alive and in one piece and had moved on to the part where she told him about the police commissioner’s late-night house call, what Kelly had asked her to do.
Cody hadn’t offered his opinion—hadn’t offered an opinion of any kind. Yet. He had simply listened, intently and without interruption. Now that she was finished, he remained silent, sorting through his thoughts and feelings. She felt them brewing underneath his calm exterior, radiating off him like the heat from a fire.
Cody picked up the bottle of whiskey from the small table between them and sniffed its neck. Before coming over he had changed out of his blues, into a pair of shorts, flip-flops, and a CrossFit T-shirt.
“I don’t know how you can drink this,” he said, his voice toneless. “Stuff smells like gasoline.”
“Put it over some ice and let it sit for a moment.”
“That makes a difference?”
“Yeah. All the girls like drinking it that way.”
He cracked a small, faint grin, and she sensed it melting some of the tension between them.
“Sure,” he said, and got to his feet, his knees cracking. “Why not?”
He returned from the kitchen with a glass packed with ice. Ellie had studied his face during their talk, and she studied it now as he poured, saw how calm it was—how calm he was. Like he’d already known all the key details before she had shared them. Or was he trying to be strong for her? Supportive?
“You didn’t seem surprised by what I told you,” she said.
“About the shooting?” Cody looked at her, perplexed. “I told you what’s-her-name, Vickers, called me. By that time, I already knew most of the details. My lieutenant had already made some phone calls for me.”
“I meant Kelly coming by here.”
“Oh. That.”
The missing pieces came together, and she straightened a bit. “You spoke to him, didn’t you?”
Cody nodded. “He called me. Told me about the shooting, that you were okay. I thought it was a bit odd, the commissioner calling, and then he explained how you helped him ID the two vics in Brentwood. Then we spoke for a bit about your remarkable ability to remember shit and your interest in the blood world.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you’ve been interested in the inner workings of the blood world for as long as I’ve known you. Then he asked me if I wouldn’t mind staying away from your place until he had a chance to talk to you.”
“So you knew about why he was coming here. What he wanted.”
Cody nodded and leaned back in his chair.
Ellie put her glass on the floor. “When, exactly,” she asked, feeling a hot coil of anger digging its way behind her left eye, “were you going to tell me this?”
He caught her tone, saw the expression on her face, and said, “I wasn’t not going to tell you, if that’s what you mean. I wanted to listen to what you had to say first—see if you want to say anything at all or just—”
“He asked you for permission, didn’t he? See if you had a problem with me going undercover.”
“He didn’t use those exact words.”
“Oh? What words did he use?”
“Ellie, we’ve been in a serious relationship coming up on, what, almost two years? It’s not a secret.”
Ellie shook her head as she looked out into the distance, her eyes hot with anger.
“The guy was being respectful,” Cody said, like it was no big deal—and to him, it wasn’t. He was a privileged white male, and still, after hundreds of years—even here, in California, the most liberal and ethnically diverse state in the nation—white men were considered the ruling class. “He just wanted to see how I felt about it. Truthfully, I thought it was a pretty classy—”
“If the roles were reversed—if you had been the one asked to go undercover—Kelly would not have called me first to see how I felt about it. I’d have to learn it from you.” She propped her bare foot on the edge of her seat and then folded her hands around her shins. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not.”
Ellie sucked air deeply through her nose as she shook her head. She had been one of the best shooters in her class and, while only five foot eight and weighing a little more than 130 pounds, she had shied away from nothing—not a single goddamn thing the academy instructors had thrown at her. Whatever came her way, she had handled it without bitching and moaning the way some of the male cadets had. And to top it off, she had handled her shit today in a real-life firefight, done everything correctly and by the book while under pressure, and—and—she had helped identify two victims. And yet the police commissioner had called her boyfriend to get his permission and blessing. Hey, Cody, it’s me, Mr. Police Commissioner. Need to speak to you man-to-man about the special girl in your life. I’m going to ask her to go undercover for us, but I want to see how you feel about it first, one privileged white guy to another.
Cody sighed. “Ellie,” he began.
“You don’t get it. You don’t understand because you’re not a woman.”
“You’re right—I’m not. I’m a white male, which allows me all sorts of privileges—and all sorts of blind spots. I told Kelly he was talking to the wrong person.”
She turned to him.
“I told him that you don’t answer to me—that you’re your own person. That the decision, ultimately, is yours, and yours alone. I probably should have added that I wouldn’t hold any sway in your decision, because you are, without a doubt, the most stubborn person I have ever met, which is why I fell in love with you.”
“That’s the only reason? My pigheadedness?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Cody grinned, messing with her, and brought the glass to his lips, Ellie feeling herself relax a bit, having what was probably the first normal moment in the past twenty-four hours.
“Whoa,” he said, his eyes widening.
“How’s it taste?”
“Like burning.”
“Have some more. It’ll help you grow hair on your chest. You could use some.”
Cody leaned back and crossed his legs. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my brothers lately. About how all three of them married women who are perfectly content, fulfilled, what have you, staying at home and raising the kids. You’re the complete polar opposite. You’re . . .”
“What?”
“You’re . . . uncharted,” Cody said. “I could spend the rest of my life with you, and while I would never be able to discover everything about you? Every day I would discover something new, and I love that. I love the all of you, and I—” He cut himself off and snorted. Smiled. “You know, this sounded so much better in my head.”
“You’re doing great.”
Cody shot her a look that clearly said, Bullshit.
“I’m serious,” she said. “And I appreciate what you said. But I have a question.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Very serious,” she said. “Want to get naked?”
“Well,” Cody sighed theatrically, “if you insist . . .”
“I do.”
Cody got to his feet. Ellie remained seated.
“You know,” he said, “this usually works better when two or more people are involved.”
“Take off your shirt.”
Cody looked around the gloom to see if anyone was watching.
“We’re fine,” Ellie said, and picked up her glass.
Cody took off his T-shirt. He had the singular most perfect chest she had ever seen on a man—powerful, square-shaped pectorals like stone slabs, the stomach and waist ridged with muscle, everything on him perfectly proportioned, none of that freaky bodybuilder shit so many guys tried to get in the gym. He took a lot of pride in his body, but he wasn’t prideful.
“Come closer,” she said. “I want to get a good look at you.”
He stepped up in front of her, dressed in his flip-flops and shorts. Ellie crossed her legs and took a sip of her drink. Cicadas sang all around her, and she could hear Cody breathing.
“Anything else I can do for you?” he asked after a moment.
“Take everything off. Then stand right where you are. I want to sit here and admire you while I finish my drink. No,” she said when Cody opened his mouth. “No talking. Just do what you’re told.”
Ellie woke up to bright sunlight and the tendrils of a dream in which she had survived the shoot-out, just like in real life. Cody was there, at the house, and when she went to kiss him, he recoiled and looked down at her stomach. Then she did, too, and she saw that she was bleeding from gunshot wounds covering her stomach and chest. When she looked up, Cody was gone.
She blinked away, heard running water; Cody was in the shower. The door was cracked open, the bathroom full of steam.
“Hey,” she called out from the bed, the dream starting to fade but not the cold, empty feeling it had left in its wake. “You want to grab breakfast?”
“Yeah, but not at the diner down the road.”
“I love that place.”
“I don’t like the way they cook the bacon. Too soggy.”
“Don’t shut the water off. I’ll jump in after you’re done.”
“Why not come in now? I’ll wash your front and you can wash my back.”
“Be right there.”
As Ellie got out of bed, it amazed her that a guy who was so incredibly organized when it came to his life could be such a slob, never making the bed and always leaving his clothes on the floor—something he knew bothered her. How hard was it to fold a pair of shorts and a T-shirt? She picked up his shorts and in the front pocket caught sight of what looked like a black felt jeweler’s box.
Ellie was so exhausted and hungover, the thought swam away from her. When it came back, when she realized what might be in the box, she reached inside his pocket, her mind taking her back to last night, that business about his married brothers, Cody saying how much he loved her.
Had he been planning on proposing to her?
She found the answer sitting in the small box: an emerald-cut diamond ring.
If Ellie were a different woman, she’d call the commissioner and politely decline the undercover assignment—and, most certainly, any future spot on the Blood Unit. She loved Cody and supposed, even though she hadn’t given it much thought up until this moment, that she did, in fact, see a future with him. But if she went undercover, it would cost her months—maybe even a year or more—of her life.
Would he wait that long? Could their love survive that?
What if it didn’t?
The ring was a choice. Cody or J.C. Pick one.
In the end, Ellie made the choice she had always made: her brother. She wouldn’t abandon him again.