8. CODY
I'd been slouched in the world’s most uncomfortable chair in the salon's waiting room for what felt like an eternity.
The concept of spending this much time on hair was beyond my comprehension.
Another mystery of women I'd never solve.
The music in here was dull, like elevator music, and the chatter of women at various stations made it impossible to focus or drift off for a nap.
I didn’t like how exposed this place was.
I’d done four mental scans since we got there—three exits, two cameras I could see. The salon smelled like chemicals and hairspray, and it was the kind of place where people assumed nothing bad could happen.
Danielle was in the back, somewhere behind a pastel curtain, laughing at something her stylist said. The sound calmed me, but only for a second.
I didn’t know where Landon was. That was the problem.
I’d checked the salon's entrance twice already.
Every man who walked past the glass storefront made me shift in my seat.
I scanned for bulges in jackets, odd pacing, too much eye contact.
Maybe it was paranoia, or maybe it was the part of me that had seen too many ambushes because someone let their guard down one second too long.
And Danielle had already caught me staring at her once. It wasn’t even what she thought it was, but I saw the way she looked at me—like she knew everything that was on my mind.
Lady, you have no fucking idea.
Whatever she was thinking was wrong. I resorted to reading whatever I could get my hands on, and after cycling through every magazine twice, I closed my eyes to relax until the stylist emerged from behind the back room's curtain.
"Eh hem." Her throat-clearing startled me awake. "May I present the new and improved, but still beautiful as ever, Stacy?"
She made a grand sweeping motion, and for a second, I almost forgot that Danielle was going by Stacy now. I leaned against the wall, waiting, keeping my expression neutral even as something restless stirred in my chest. Nothing serious—probably just curiosity. Or nerves. Hard to say.
When no one appeared, the stylist's flair faded. She reached behind the curtain.
"Oh, right, the cane. Sorry. Come on, get out here, you sexy looking, half-broken thing!"
Danielle stepped out, nervous, stiff in her movements, as if she were hoping she would disappear behind her own hesitation. But no one was disappearing. Not now.
I blinked. The transformation was... jarring.
She looked like a different person—same features, but everything sharpened.
Clearer. Louder. It was like the floodgate holding all of her emotions had burst free, releasing this new personality.
There was a quiet magnetism to her now, something that pulled at your focus before you realized what was happening.
It wasn’t just the hair or the makeup or the new clothes.
It was something else. Something that had always been there, buried under all her defenses.
And, yeah, she looked incredible.
My jaw tightened. I crossed my arms.
This wasn't helpful.
The last thing I needed was to start noticing her like that.
Alex would have my fucking head. Plus, she was still the same sharp-tongued, unpredictable, emotionally walled-off girl I'd been tasked with watching. My job wasn’t to appreciate how good she looked.
And yet, for one too-long moment, I did. I caught myself staring.
She smiled—really smiled—and it hit harder than I expected. Absolutely visceral. A gut-punch of attraction that came out of nowhere and pissed me off for existing at all.
She was beautiful. And I needed to get my head on straight before that fact became a problem.
"Well... how does she look?" The stylist nudged me for a response, her prompting a little more than subtle.
Get your shit together, Cody.
"Oh, you look good. The red suits you, she-devil." I forced a laugh, trying to maintain our usual dynamic. I was lying to myself if I thought I had accomplished that.
Danielle exchanged a knowing look with the stylist. "See, I told you."
"Told her what?"
"Nothing. Pay the lady, let's go." She turned to hug the stylist. "Thank you again."
Danielle made her way to the car, struggling to do it on her own, leaving me at the counter with the stylist; another silent rebellion against me being her caretaker, which I heard loud and clear. The stylist, who waited until she was safely outside, suddenly leaned in with a smirk on her face.
"I saw the way you looked at her." The stylist's voice held a teasing edge that fit well with the sly smile and knowing wink she gave me.
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
I knew exactly what she meant. But just in case Alex had chosen this place because he knew her, which wouldn’t surprise me, playing dumb seemed safer.
She leaned in close, lowering her voice. "You think she’s hot. It's sweet."
Heat crept up the back of my neck before I could stop it. I forced a small shrug. "You're reading into it. She can’t stand me, believe me. I'm just here to take care of her."
She chuckled under her breath, clearly unconvinced. "Mmm. Sure."
I gave a polite smile, mostly to end the conversation, and thanked her on my way out.
Back at the car, I opened the passenger door and helped Danielle in. She didn't say much, and neither did I. Once she was settled, I shut the door and circled around, slipping into the driver’s seat.
Before starting the engine, I glanced over.
The change was still jarring. Not just the hair, but the way she carried herself. There was a softness now, underneath the guarded posture. Something raw and unfiltered that hadn’t been there before.
And yeah, she looked good. More than good.
But those thoughts? Still not going to fly. Not with her. Not with me. Definitely not with Alex.
I forced my eyes forward and started the car. Whatever that flicker of attraction was, it needed to stay exactly where it belonged: ignored and locked down.
"How long did it take to pay her? Geeze, I was dying out here." Ah, there she was, good old Danielle. A fiery personality to match her fiery hair. I was about to snap back with something cutting, but I suddenly remembered everything she’d been through. She needed kindness.
"You really do look great, Danielle."
Her expression shifted from cold to surprised just as quickly as the words came out of my mouth. She was clearly expecting one of our usual barbed exchanges.
"Oh…thank you." She ran her fingers through her new hair and turned to the window, admiring herself in the sideview mirror through the glass. "Where are we going?"
"Your brother rented us a trailer under a fake name about a day's drive from here, on the outskirts near Grand Junction, in a small town out in the desert. We'll drive halfway and stop for the night at a hotel."
"The desert? A day away? Really?" She sighed. "At least it's remote, I guess."
We grabbed some dinner and lay low, resting for the night in another officer’s basement until morning, heading out before the sun rose.
Danielle dozed on and off throughout the drive, and I tried to focus on my music instead of how good she looked, even while sleeping.
These unwelcome thoughts about her needed to stay buried.
I pushed the speed limit, hoping to make the journey easier on her, until we reached a small town near St. Louis by dinner time. I pulled into a Fairfield Inn with several restaurants nearby.
"I think we should stop here for the night," I said, nodding toward the hotel.
"Fine with me. My leg is killing me."
She sighed, leaning her head against the window.
The absence of her usual sharp wit and disdain told me the pain was real.
Knowing I'd have to help her with rehab exercises later made my stomach twist. How could I maintain composure when these inappropriate thoughts kept surfacing?
The thought of touching her right now made me feel like Alex would have a target on my head within seconds.
I tried convincing myself it was just her dramatic transformation. These feelings would pass. They had to.
"Why don't we stop and grab some food, and when we get to the hotel, I'll help you with some rehab?"
I watched her face tighten at the suggestion. The idea of doing rehab, especially with me, while she was already in pain, clearly didn't appeal to her. But we both knew it wasn't optional, and like it or not, she needed my help.
"Okay," she conceded.
"Plus, we need to celebrate," I offered, trying to lift her spirits. Her confusion was evident. "You're out of the hospital now, you can have solid food!"
"Burgers!" She shouted the words out with unexpected enthusiasm before covering her mouth with her hand as if she had let me see part of her she shouldn’t have.
It made me wonder if she was never allowed to show a shred of joy or excitement in all those years with Landon. It broke my heart a little bit.
I laughed, caught off guard by this rare glimpse of genuine excitement. "Okay, okay. Burgers, it is. Calm down, she-devil."
We picked up takeout and headed to the hotel.
After checking in under the alias Alex provided, I helped Danielle navigate to our room.
Once I had her settled on one of the beds with her food, I made a quick trip back to the car for our overnight bags.
When I returned, I found her demolishing her burger with some honestly shocking speed.
"You'd better slow down. You haven't had anything firmer than mashed potatoes for months. Don't be surprised if you throw that up." The look she gave me could have withered plants. Clearly, I'd just become the villain who ruined her first real meal in months.
"But it's soooooooo good!" She taunted, exaggeratedly stuffing another massive bite into her mouth with a defiant grin. By all means, I should have at least found that unattractive, but it was oddly cute.
"Let's work on that leg so you can hopefully sleep tonight," I told her as I threw my trash out and pulled out Dr. Matthews' instructions.
The rehab team had been thorough, providing detailed explanations for every exercise: the how, why, when, and potential consequences of skipping them. I felt confident about managing most of it until I reached one particular instruction. My stomach dropped as I read it aloud.
"After Danielle finishes her walking exercises, her muscles are going to be very weak because of the muscular atrophy due to the limited use of her legs.
Lightly massaging the muscles around her femur will help to stimulate blood flow, keep the muscles active, and prevent scar tissue from building up. "
Danielle's playful demeanor vanished as fast as she let it slip free. She fixed me with an incredulous stare. "Seriously? That's gonna be a solid no. I can do it myself."
"Doctor's orders. Don't worry. I'm a professional, um, leg massager.
" I tried to lighten the tension with humor to no avail.
"It's my job to keep you safe, not seductively massage you.
Besides, I'd like to live to see thirty, and that milestone pretty much rests in your brother's hands right now.
" I stood up, preparing to help with her walking exercises.
"Exactly. It’s your job to keep me safe, not massage me."
"What makes you think I'd even be interested in someone like you, Danielle?
" The words left my mouth before I could stop them. However, if I were being honest with myself, I hadn’t been this interested in anyone since Riley.
But I was undeniably interested in Danielle, at least in a physical aspect.
Her expression shifted. It was clear that I had caught her off guard.
Maybe she wasn't used to someone who could not only handle her caustic attitude but throw it right back at her.
Apart from Alex, she probably hadn't met anyone who could and stuck around for it.
At least not without beating her over it.
She rolled her eyes, but I swore I caught a flicker of something else in her expression. Maybe amusement, but maybe something deeper than that.
"Just keep it prude and professional, Cody."