Out Of Her League (23 page)

He held her questioning gaze. “Hey, Nate. What's up?”

“Just wanted to give you an update.”

“Okay.” He kept his expression impassive. “Shoot.”

“We've received a few solid leads, alleged sightings of him at the ballpark and Christa's place, cruising around her friend's neighborhood and so on, but so far none have panned out. And still no evidence to suggest he's crossed the border.”

Damn. Why did he keep thinking it was going to be simple?

“There is something else... ”

“And what's that?” He stroked his thumb over her cheek to reassure her, then stared out the window so she couldn't see his face.

“That cold case homicide a couple years ago. A TV reporter, tied up in the back of a vehicle and raped. Identified Seth before she died within hours of surgery for multiple stab wounds. Turns out she tried to get a restraining order against a stalker weeks before the attack, but didn't have enough on him to obtain it. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah.” Very. And now that goddamn cookie with its sightless eyes and puncture marks made him want to throw up. “It was him?”

“According to the profiler we've been working with, Seth matches the perp's profile. White male between twenty-five and thirty-five, seems normal, even friendly to his victims. A neat-freak, almost obsessive-compulsive, needs routine to feel in control. Motivated by power, like most rapists, not sex. Apparently our guy's a real genius with computers, electronic stuff, so he could have hacked into Christa's alarm service provider's database and gotten her entry code, and he could have found your cell phone records, which would explain today's little adventure. We figure he's into some kind of tech support, the sort of thing he could do over the phone to keep contact with people to a minimum. A smart bastard, holds two degrees, one in computer science and the other... the other's a double major in criminology and psych.”

So that's what was up with all the mind games. And why he was so hard for the cops to pin down.

“And that's not all. Turns out he had a fucked-up childhood. Abused, possibly sexually but certainly physically, probably by his father, mother does nothing to intervene.”

“Sounds textbook.”

“Pretty much, except in Seth's case his step-dad was an ex-cop.”

Rayne's heart picked up speed, fingers tightening on the phone. “Really.”

“His print pulled from that stolen SUV matches the one taken at the reporter's murder scene, and this morning forensics made a positive match between the... uh... the bite marks.”

Bite marks? What bite marks? He whipped around to frown at Christa. Was that what had happened to her shoulder? His heart pounded, his stomach curled. “Wait a minute— ”

“The punctures match the other victim's wound exactly.”

And now he knew why the cookie had been missing a bite from its shoulder. Sick to his stomach, Rayne turned away again, trying to conceal the way his muscles cramped.

All this time he'd assumed it was a knife wound, but the bastard had taken a chunk out of her with his teeth.

He swallowed the bile in his throat.

“Thing is, Hutch, so far Christa's the only one we know of who's tangled with this guy and lived to tell us about it. He's a slick bastard, not the type to leave loose ends, so— ”

“I got it.” He didn't need to hear the words. His guts clenched.

“I've already assembled a task force. We're doing everything we can, but both of you be careful, you hear?”

“Sure will, Nate. I'll tell her. Thanks for calling.”
Damn. And she was just starting to deal with the fallout
.

When he was sure his expression was composed, he turned to face her. She was watching him, face pale, gnawing on her lower lip.

So it hadn't only been rape she'd avoided that night. If her neighbor hadn't been so conscientious she'd be six feet underground right now. And now her attacker would do everything in his power to make sure she couldn't ID him.

“What?” she demanded, her eyes troubled. “What did he say?”

He set the phone down and gathered her against him, her warmth chasing away the chill of fear inside him. He wanted to know about the bite mark but couldn't bring himself to ask. As calmly as he could he broke the news about the investigation, holding her close while she absorbed the shock of it.

She pulled back and gazed up into his eyes, the fear there eating at him like acid. “But if it's true he killed that other woman, and I'm the only one who's survived, then... ” The horror dawned, her pupils constricting.

She shook her head and he stroked her hair, helpless to protect her from the truth. St. Michael pressed against his chest like lead. Some knight in shining armor he was.

He hated to say it, but she needed to hear the truth. He passed a hand down the side of her ashen face. “Then chances are, he wants to finish what he started.”

The last speck of blood red sun dipped into the ocean, enveloping the world in shades of lavender and sapphire. The breeze brought the tang of salt water with it, the dampness enough to form swirls of mist along the shore. Christa came in from the back porch and found Rayne building a fire in the hearth.

“This will warm you up,” he said with a smile, tossing the match into the firewood.

After Nate's phone call on top of the cookie incident, she doubted she'd ever be warm again.

He dusted his hands on his well worn jeans and urged her to sit on the floor with him, settling her in the vee of his legs and easing her against his chest. “Better?” he asked against her ear.

She barely suppressed the shiver that coursed through her, focused instead on absorbing the heat of the fire and his body.

He turned her sideways so he could see her face, kissed the tip of her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth before covering her lips with his own. “I could kiss you all night,” he whispered. “But I'm not going to because I don't want to scare you, and I don't want you to feel pressured.”

She gave him a grateful smile. Nothing like mortal fear to stave off physical intimacy.

She cuddled into him, craving the sanctuary he offered. The flames licked over the logs piled in the grate, their crackle soothing along with the muted roar of the ocean and Rayne's heartbeat steady under her ear. Part of her wished he would try and seduce her, if only to shut her brain off for a while. All she could think about was being hunted, that a predator was out there somewhere, after her right now. “I don't know if I can handle this,” she admitted.

His hand paused in its motion over her hair. “Do you mean us, or— ”

“No.” She doubted she could handle that either, but that was a worry for later on, when she wasn't terrified of being murdered. “That he wants to kill me.”

“Don't, kiddo.” He wrapped his arms around her, held on tight. “Don't think about it.”

“How can I not think about it?” she demanded, part of her aware he was only trying to help. “I can't
stop
thinking about it.” She was so tense she thought she might scream, her shoulder muscles in knots and an intense headache drumming at her temples.

“He's not going to get anywhere near you again because we're going to be that much more careful until he's caught.”

Everyone kept saying he'd get caught, reassuring her he'd be in jail soon. But when each day passed with no positive updates, no promising news, it was harder and harder for her to believe. At the very least the psycho had turned her life upside down. She'd lost her chance at making the national team, been chased from her home and forced to quit working, then attacked. Apparently she would have been killed if not for Patrick, and it still wasn't over.

How could she go on like this? Aside from the stress and trauma she'd already suffered, she had a business to run and couldn't do it from Rayne's living room back in White Rock. Her employees were handling the current jobs fine, but what about future projects? She needed to be out there doing assessments, giving quotes, designing and pitching her plans for each prospective new client. Without recruiting fresh clientele, her business would wither and die as surely as a plant left to bake in the summer sun. And without money coming in, how could she pay her mortgage? How would she and Jake eat?

A charred log crumbled into the embers, showering red sparks up the chimney. She envied their freedom.

“What can I do to take your mind off it?” Rayne asked, rubbing her arms. His palms against her skin made her all shivery, jerking her mind from its morose track for the moment.

She arched a brow at him over her shoulder. “Knock me unconscious?”

He sifted his fingers through her hair, igniting that spark of awareness between them, even stronger since he'd first kissed her. Of course that was
before
she'd known she was a marked woman, and this was
after
. Big difference. She yanked her attention back to the present.

“Let's go for a run.”

She must not have heard him right. “You think I feel like exercising?”

“Got a better idea?”

Yes. She wanted to go outside, stick her head in the sand like an ostrich, and hide until it was all over. But a run? “All right, I guess it can't hurt.” If nothing else, it might tire her out enough to let her sleep through the night for a change. She went and threw on some sweats and pulled on her running shoes. Already at the back door with Jake, he loped down the steps with her dog at his heels.

She fell into step beside him, breathing in the clean, brisk salt air, the crash of the waves and the softness of the sand muffling their footfalls. It didn't take her long to feel the benefits to her cardiovascular system, her legs pumping to stabilize her on the uneven surface. Her abraded ankles burned where they rubbed against her socks, but she understood now why he'd suggested the run. Her nervous system had been suspended in fight-or-flight mode, especially since the phone call this afternoon. Giving her body something to do with the restless, nervous energy was exactly what she'd needed to vent it from her system.

“You're in great shape,” he complimented her after about twenty minutes.

He still had enough oxygen to talk? That was plain wrong. She wheezed a thanks, Jake's tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted beside her. At least someone else was feeling it.

Thankfully Rayne soon slowed and came to a stop. “Let's walk back to cool down.”

Bent over at the waist, sucking in oxygen, she gave him a weary thumbs-up. After a few minutes her breathing was under control, her mind alert and her body energized. “I needed that. How did you know?” Jake trotted over to have his ears scratched.

Rayne took hold of her other hand and laced their fingers together. “Because that's how I deal with my adrenaline overloads when I'm all keyed up and an operation gets canned.”

He'd talked about being prepped for a stakeout or sting op, then having the plug pulled at the last minute. All those guys with their weapons locked and loaded, ready to roll, the air reeking of testosterone, then oops— sorry fellas, no action today. Go on back to the station and wait for the next call, play tiddlywinks or something. She squeezed his hand. “Well, it sure worked for me.”

“Good. Running's one of the best things to help you unwind.”

She tipped her head back to the sky, taking a deep breath of fresh, cool air. The stars were coming out, pinpoints in a sea of blackness. All the way back to the cottage he kept hold of her hand, the contact helping her to forget that Seth was still out there somewhere, wanting her dead.

After they had both showered she prepared dinner with the mellow notes of Tony Bennett's voice filling the room. Rayne came toward her with a smile that made her heart accelerate. “Dance with me.”

Her mouth went dry. She craved being close to him, but what if led to something more and she couldn't handle it? “I'm not really a good dancer.”

“It's easy.” His warm hand wrapped around her right one, fingers enfolding hers in a confident grip. “I'll lead, you follow.” His other hand slid down her spine to splay across her lower back, bringing her close against his body and making her grasp his shoulder for balance while the breath backed up in her lungs. The heat radiating from him filled her senses with his clean, soapy scent.

Her knees sagged. Putty, that's what she was, and the gleam in his eyes said he knew it.

“Let's see if this will take your mind off everything for a while.”

The hand resting on her back seemed to burn through her shirt as it guided her, her belly jumping as her breasts made contact with the wall of his chest. He led her smoothly while she stared at the hollow near the base of his throat, too unsure of herself to look him in the eye. The anxiety remained, but now it was focused on the feel of that long, lean body against hers. Something dark and needy unfurled low in her abdomen.

“Close your eyes.”

Christa obeyed the low murmur. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she found it natural to lay her cheek against the muscular curve of his shoulder. Unable to resist, she nuzzled him, inhaling his scent deeply. Hints of soap and tangy cologne.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against her temple.

Lord, so did he. Her whole body tingled. She was so exhausted, hadn't had a good night's sleep since the attack. Rayne was so solid and warm, the fire crackling behind her as the music crooned. They were barely moving now, swaying to the music. Her mind drifted.

“Hey. Here I am trying to impress you with my smoothness, and you're falling asleep on your feet.”

“Was I? Sorry.” She gave him a wry smile. “Bet that's never happened to you before, huh?”

He caressed her lips with his thumb. “A lot of things never happened to me before I met you. I'm in unfamiliar territory.”

“Yeah? That makes two of us.” She was utterly lost in him. When he bent his head she tilted her face, sliding her hands to tangle in his hair. He settled his mouth over hers and kissed her as though he wanted to draw the soul right out of her body, bent her backward just enough so she had to hold on tight to keep her balance. Digging her fingers into the muscles in his shoulders, she battled for control.