Guarding Raine (Security Ops) (14 page)

The man shook his head. “None that stuck around. Miss Michaels claims another driver bumped into her from behind, then ran her off the road.” He scratched his head. “Frankly, I wasn’t too sure if she was dazed from the accident, or what. The whole story sounded a little funny.”

Funny was the last adjective Mac would have used to describe any of the happenings of the day. One of his men had yelled for him on the roof when Raine’s car had taken off, but she’d been out of sight before he could follow her. There had been nothing to do but pace in the office, cursing the day he’d ever taken this job. When the call had come from the trooper, his anger had taken a back seat to his concern for Raine. Despite assurances from the officer that Raine seemed all right to him, Mac hadn’t been sure until he could see her for himself. And now that he’d seen her, he still wasn’t certain.

Oh, she was on her feet, that was a good sign. And other than that nasty bump on the side of her head, she didn’t seem to have sustained any permanent damage, as long as there were no internal injuries. But something wasn’t right here. He’d seen what it cost her to pull herself together and go with that nurse. Even as his mind was trying to puzzle it out, the trooper interrupted his thoughts.

“Miss Michaels said she only got one quick look at the person in the other car.”

That snared Mac’s attention, and fast. “She can identify him?” What a break that would be in this whole mess. The thought came and went that his involvement with Raine Michaels would then come to an end. And not a moment too soon.

But the man shook his head. “Not really. Seems like the driver was wearing one of those Halloween fright masks and a pair of gloves. Guess that’s not going to help us out at all in solving this.”

Mac stared hard at him. A mask and gloves spoke of a person who had planned this whole scene. Someone who had called Raine to deliberately lure her out of the house. It would have had to be someone who knew of Lorena Michaels’s poor health. Then the man had laid in wait to ambush her, to run her off the road.

A fiery knot of rage burned low in Mac’s belly. This was quite a leap from a few phone calls and letters. This scheme spoke of cunning and cold-blooded intent. Raine could have been seriously injured, even killed if she hadn’t been wearing her safety belt. Had that been the ambusher’s intention?

In short, succinct words he described for the trooper the harassment Raine had been suffering, then gave him the name of the detective investigating the case. The trooper promised to call the man with a full report. Then he excused himself and left.

The man’s exit left Mac with nothing to do but wait. And think. And his thoughts weren’t pretty. His palms itched. He wanted to get his hands around the throat of the person responsible.

He smiled a cold, deadly smile. He was going to find the bastard who was threatening Raine. And then he would make damn sure he paid.

Mac sent a concerned glance across the front seat of the truck, taking his attention off the road for an instant. “I take it you don’t like hospitals.”

“Not since . . .” She caught herself, and after a brief hesitation answered, “Not much, no. But I got through it.”

Again, her words struck him as odd. She sounded as if it had been entering the hospital, and not the accident itself, which had been the bigger strain that day. He returned his attention to the road and fell into a contemplative silence.

After a bit, Raine heaved a sigh and looked at him. So far he’d shown remarkable restraint, but she was expecting him to lambast her for her foolhardiness today, and the anticipation of the explosion was almost worse than the words themselves would be. “Go ahead and say it,” she muttered.

One eyebrow rose.

“You know you’re dying to. I shouldn’t have left the house alone. I walked right into a trap.”

Still he didn’t answer.

“Well?” she demanded.

“I’d say that about covers it.”

“I was afraid for Mother, and I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I could have,” she defended herself. “You were nowhere to be found, nor were any of your men nearby. I didn’t think I had time to track you down. There haven’t been any letters since before you came, and I thought—oh, hell,” she finished, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“You didn’t think,” he said flatly. “And not thinking almost got you killed. Chew on that for a while.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, goose bumps prickling the skin under her fingers. “I can’t think of anything else. I’m scared, Macauley. And I hate that,” she added fiercely. “I hate feeling this way.” Fear wasn’t the only emotion she was feeling. Anger was beginning to simmer inside her, and she welcomed it. “What will happen to my car?” she asked abruptly.

He made a left turn onto the road that led to her house. “I imagine it’s been towed by now,” he said. “You’ll probably hear something soon. Some estimates will have to be given, to see if it’s worth fixing or if it will have to be totaled out. I didn’t see the car, sol don’t know what it looked like.”

“It resembled a folded-up accordion,” she said shakily.

He gave her a look then that reminded her, without words, just how lucky she was to have walked away from it.

Pulling up in front of her house, he came around to her side and helped her down from the truck.

“I’m really all right,” she protested, as his hands settled on her waist.

“You may feel all right now, but I can guarantee that every muscle in your body will ache by tomorrow,” he predicted. “You go clean up. I’ll take care of supper tonight.”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at him. “Meal one, two, three or four?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’ll surprise you.”

No doubt he would. He’d been a constant source of surprises since he’d come, uninvited, into her life. She’d interpreted the burst of awareness she’d felt as soon as he laid his hands on her waist without shock. Something happened to her whenever Macauley O’Neill touched her. And that, perhaps, was the biggest surprise of all.

Supper turned out to be meal number two, and Raine had to admit that the juicy hamburgers tasted delicious. They were again eating on the patio, and there was a glass of wine in front of her. She had refused it at first, but Mac had insisted.

“You need it,” he’d asserted flatly. “You had a hell of a shock today, and this will calm your nerves.”

It was easier to drink it than to argue with him. And after the first few times, she’d stopped protesting when he refilled her glass whenever she took a sip. Already a little of the tension from the day was seeping out of her limbs. She would have liked to go along with his plan, finish the meal and drink enough wine to complete the job of relaxation, but she wouldn’t allow herself to shirk reality.

“So what happens next?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “Next you give me your word that you’re going to do as you’re told, without question.” He held up a hand to forestall her response. “The stakes have been raised, Raine. Big-time. We’re not talking about a crank with a bad attitude toward artists. Someone is out to get you. And you’re going to have to face the fact that it could very well be someone you know.”

Her eyes got wide. “What makes you—”

“Think about what happened today,” he cut in sharply. “Somebody knew you well enough to masquerade as a doctor on the phone. He knew just what button to push—the illness of your mother—to get you to abandon caution and go tearing out of your home. That doesn’t speak of an anonymous weirdo, Raine. It tells me that you know this person, at least slightly. Who knows that I’ve been staying at the house?”

She shook her head. “No one. I didn’t mention it because I was hoping . . .” Her voice trailed off. She’d been hoping that this whole mess would clear up before she had to explain to anyone. She’d thought that perhaps, once the security measures were completed, the letters would have stopped or the harasser would have been caught or . . .” She shook her head. She was no longer sure what she’d thought.

But she was sure what she didn’t believe. “I can’t imagine how anyone other than my friends would know about my mother’s health, and none of them would do anything like this. It’s too ludicrous to contemplate.”

He surveyed her over his beer bottle. She wasn’t ready to believe that anyone close to her could be capable of this kind of evil. He couldn’t blame her. It would be damn hard for most people to consider. He wasn’t going to push her any further on the subject tonight. She’d already been through enough today, and had held up damn well, too. She was shaken, it had taken conscious effort on her part, but she wasn’t down for the count. Raine Michaels had more moxie, more sheer guts than most men he knew. He couldn’t help but admire that.

Setting the bottle down carefully, he said, “If you haven’t told anyone that I’m staying at the house, whoever planned this thought he could get you out by yourself. So we’re going to continue to let him think that. I’ve been putting my truck in your garage—I’ll keep doing that. Once the workmen have left, we’re going to let him think I’ve gone with them.”

Her gaze moved to the horizon. The sun had long since gone down in a brilliant, glorious display. “You think that will draw him out?”

“It could.”

“And then what?”

Mac chose his words deliberately. “Well, if we’re real lucky the police will step up their efforts and find the person behind this.”

She looked at him silently, waiting for the rest of his thought.

“If not,” he said bluntly, “I’m going to have to get the bastard myself.”

His tone was chilling and full of purpose. Their eyes met, and she had no doubt that he would do as he said. He would accomplish what the police had so far been unable to. He’d find whoever was responsible for harassing her, the person who had almost killed her today, and he would stop him.

Unquestioning certainty filled her at the realization. For the first time since she was fifteen years old, she had complete and total faith in another person. No, she corrected herself. Not another person. In one person.

Macauley O’Neill.

Raine came awake with a start, her heart pumping in a familiar terrible rhythm, her breath coming in pants. She should have known better than to try to sleep tonight. But she thought the long, hot bath Macauley had recommended, coupled with the glasses of wine, would work their magic on sore muscles and an exhausted mind. And so they had, for a while. Until a dream-induced replay had awakened her.

The red digits on the clock at the bedside glowed twelve o’clock. She’d been asleep less than an hour. Chances for a return to slumber were slight, at least for a while. She stared out at the night fixedly. The full moon of a few weeks ago had splintered to less than a quarter now, adding to the darkness of the sky. She took deep breaths, from long practice familiar with the tricks it took to calm a body in flight mode.

But the old tricks weren’t working well tonight. Deep breathing didn’t calm her nerves, didn’t chase the chill from her skin. She wasn’t sure what would.

Mac heard the ragged breathing coming from her room as he passed it on his way to his own. He poked his head in the doorway, unsurprised when he saw the small figure sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her knees. “Raine.” His voice was low. She didn’t answer, and he took a reluctant step over the threshold. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, then, aware he wouldn’t be able to detect the movement in the dark, tried to speak. “Yes.”

The ache in her voice negated the meaning of the word. He came farther into the room, reaching for the light, but she forestalled his movement toward it.

“No,” she commanded, her voice quiet but even. “Leave it off.”

His hand hovered at the switch for a moment before dropping. He’d never questioned the extra light plates, but had been aware shortly after he’d first come here that extraordinary efforts had been taken so that Raine would never have to be in the dark if she didn’t want to be.

He hesitated. Every well-honed instinct he had screamed at him to back out of this room. This woman needed nothing he could give her, because he was empty himself. His feet moved with a life of their own, rounding the corner of the bed.

Raine’s eyes stayed trained on him as he moved through the room. He’d removed his shirt. Even in the dim moonlight that filtered into the room, it was easy to discern the power in his muscled torso.

“Can I get you anything?” The words hung in the air. He’d obviously been on his way to his room from the bathroom down the hall. She knew that he would be clean-shaven. Her nostrils flared in appreciation at the slight scent of soap and after shave.

She shook her head, and this time he was close enough to her to see the action. He crossed in front of the window, and she caught her breath. For an instant he stood there, silhouetted against the sky, a portrait of shadows, dark against dark. And then he continued his approach until he was standing next to her.

“I can’t . . .” She took a huge breath. “I dreamed about today.” She tried a laugh that sounded more like a gasp. “Why is it always scarier in the nightmare?”

Mac sat on the edge of bed gingerly. “Recycled adrenaline?”

“I guess.”

“When something like this happens, a person is in shock, operating to a large extent on instinct. Survival takes over and emotions are left behind. I guess when we sleep the emotions take over.”