by Kaylea Cross
His old man grunted. “She called me the day after you were shot, you know. She was really torn up about it.”
“It was a close call, all right.”
“For what it’s worth, from someone who’s been there and done that, don’t play the ‘what if’ game. No doubt you’re beating yourself up about it, but the bottom line is that little boy died because his old man was a messed-up piece of shit. Period. Not because you screwed up—”
“But I did screw up,” he insisted. “I fell through the goddamn floor. Bam, hit the ground and then the guy was holding my own weapon on me.” His palms dampened and he felt again the chill of his pistol pressed against his head. He didn’t mention the guy sneering at the Trident, didn’t want his dear old dad to know he carried it around in his fatigues like some pathetic kid with a hero-worship complex. One of his teammates had given it back to him in the hospital.
“Accidents happen. You’re better trained than anyone else on that squad, so if it happened to you it coulda happened to anyone. You did everything you could to save that boy, and that’s something you can be proud of.”
The guilt, the grief, seared him. “It’s his eyes, dad,” he said finally. “I can still see his eyes staring up at me.” That was the image he wanted to banish, more than the bullets slamming into him. Those wide, frightened eyes begging him for a miracle.
“The nightmares will fade. I’m more worried about what’s going on in your head while you’re awake.”
There was something going on in his head right now that he couldn’t ignore. Ah, the hell with it. Why not just say it? “I’m moving in with Christa,” he began, “and maybe someday we’ll get married and have a family. Before all that happens, I need to know—” he paused to meet that dark stare, “—why did you ditch me and mom like that?”
His father stiffened and looked away. He let out a deep breath. “I had to, Rayne. It was the only thing I could do.”
Uh-uh. Not good enough. Rayne leaned toward him. “Why? That’s all I want to know. Why did you do it?”
“You know what happened that day—”
“No, I don’t know. That’s the whole damn point. For twenty-three years I’ve wondered what the fuck happened, and nobody would tell me anything except that you two couldn’t live together anymore.”
His father stared back at him in surprise. “Your mother didn’t ever tell you about the day I left?”
“Not a thing. So what was it? Did you screw around on her and she found out?”
His dad suddenly sat ramrod straight, eyes flashing. “Fuck no. I would never have done that to your mother.”
“Then what?” All this time his dad had assumed he had known, but his mother had kept the truth from him. Why? She must have had her reasons, but what could they be? The wariness on his father’s chiseled face stirred dread in his gut.
“You’ve seen the scar on her neck, right?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
He swallowed, his expression turning grim. “How do you think it got there?”
Rayne stared, unable to believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. No way. “You cut her?” He’d never even seen his parents argue, so for his dad to have taken a fucking knife to her...
His dad dropped his head back against the chair, tension and self-loathing coming off him in waves. “She came up behind me while I was sharpening my hunting knife to take on our fishing trip. On sheer reflex I slammed her up against the fridge with the point of the blade against her jugular. I came this close to slitting her throat.” He held his thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart.
Rayne’s skin chilled as he imagined it. The shock and fear in his mom’s green eyes as she stared up at the man she’d married, the man she loved. Like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. His father frozen there, then dropping his hand and stepping back from her, full of horror at what he’d done.
“She started shaking, put a hand up to stop the bleeding where I’d nicked her and slid down the fridge to the floor. She never took her eyes off me. And the look on her face...something inside me crumpled and died.”
Anguish crashed over him. Of all the things he’d imagined, that scenario had never even crossed his mind.
His father’s voice was low, bitter. “I threw the knife across the room, buried the blade into the wall. The blood was dripping through her fingers. I can still smell it.”
Rayne scrubbed a hand over his face. Christ.
“I peeled off my shirt and pressed it against her throat. I’d told her to never, ever surprise me like that, and she apologized, said it was her fault, that she forgot. But I knew she was thinking about what might happen the next time she did something that triggered me. Seeing that fear in her eyes, fear of me, it killed me.”
All this time, Rayne hadn’t known, would never have guessed what had triggered the abandonment.
“I’d finally done it. Snapped, exactly like I’d always been afraid of, and your mother was huddled there on the floor, looking as if she’d run screaming into the street if I so much as moved in her direction.”
“And so you just left?” It still didn’t make sense.
“Hell yes, I left. I had to. I went upstairs and packed my bags. It was too damn dangerous for me to stay. If there’d been something I coulda done about it I would have, but...”
He didn’t need to explain the terrible reality of a SEAL, fresh from a deadly covert operation where a second’s hesitation would cost a man his life, thrown back into suburbia to be a husband and a father. He simply hadn’t been able to make the adjustment.
His father sighed. “You know the score. During my time in the Navy I’d been transformed into something no amount of counseling was going to change. I was so afraid I’d do something worse than nick her throat the next time. What if it had been you that day instead of her? You’d never have come near me again.” His eyes brimmed with self-hatred. “I knew you both deserved better than pussyfooting around me for the rest of your lives, having to treat me like a ticking time bomb. But it still ripped my fucking guts out to walk away.”
Pain twisted deep in Rayne’s chest. “All this time I assumed you left because you didn’t want us.”
His father set a firm hand on his shoulder. “I left because I loved you both too much to risk hurting either of you again. I wanted you to have a better life than I could give you. Would you have wanted an old man who lost it every Fourth of July and Halloween when the fireworks went off? Who hit the deck like a mortar attack was going down every time a car backfired? I refused to do that to you. I was like a high-voltage line with the insulation stripped off. Believe me, you were better off without me around.”
“I’m sorry,” Rayne said simply, not knowing what else to say.
“No, son, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry you thought I walked out on you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you as much as I should have been.”
Rayne swallowed tightly and stared up at the night sky, pulling in a deep, steadying breath. “You were still my hero, you goddamned idiot,” he said, meeting his father’s too-bright gaze. “All those years you were gone, blaming yourself, I still worshipped the fucking ground you walked on.”
His old man blinked fast. “I’m sorry. For everything I ever did that let you down.”
Rayne nodded, the bands loosening around his chest, and nodded in acknowledgement. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear those words from his father. He took a sip of beer, let the matter drop as they listened to the night sounds around them. “Glad you got to meet Christa.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks for coming down.”
New beginnings, Rayne thought, picturing Christa asleep upstairs on the pullout couch. He was ready to let go of the past and focus on the future, one that could now include the haunted man he’d worshipped his entire life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The frustration was driving Seth crazy, making him desperate and careless. Careless would get him killed
.
Following Christa down south had been too risky. He’d been at the airport, ready to go, then talked himself out of it. The odds of getting caught had been too great, even with his false passport and appearance. He’d dyed his short hair black and grown a goatee, tucked rolls of cotton into his cheeks to alter the shape of his jaw. Sunglasses concealed the unusual gray of his eyes. He didn’t want to wear colored contacts—he had them of course, but he wanted her to know it was him the second she saw him.
The craving was an insatiable hunger, gnawing at him. He desired her, despised her, ached for her. He wanted to fuck her before he killed her, might even be kind in his method of ending her life, if she treated him right. Unlike the end he’d given Henry. He’d deserved an agonizing, lingering death and Seth had been sure to give it to him, pressing the point of a knife against his flabby throat while Henry’s eyes bulged, mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish.
She was coming home tonight, due in at seven. They’d head straight for the cop’s place. He could go after her there, if he chose. Simple enough to access the condo building and bypass the alarm. He didn’t care for taking on her lover, however. He might be desperate, but he wasn’t stupid.
Sooner or later he’d have his chance. If nothing else, Christa had taught him a lesson in patience. Something that didn’t come easily to him, and he was grateful to her for that.
One slip, that’s all he needed. He’d wait for that one mistake, that one instant of bad judgment, then wham. It would be over.
****
Christa awoke early in Rayne’s bed to the cry of the gulls outside and his hands moving seductively over her skin. So this was how it was going to be from now on, waking up next to him, enveloped in his love. They’d been home for two days now. Although she didn’t care where she was as long as she was with him, she missed her house and hated being kept away from it. The time away with Rayne had kick-started her long process of healing, but she still balked at the prospect of sleeping in her own bedroom, in her own bed. The room was tainted; her whole life had been tainted.
Realizing her body had tensed beneath his loving hands, she shut off her mind. Pale gray light streamed through the wooden slats, the cries of the gulls muted by the double-glazing. She sighed and snuggled deeper into her cocoon. They were both naked. Rayne was pressed against her back, his warmth and strength surrounding her. Though his arm still bothered him a little when he overdid it he’d been pronounced fit enough to return to work, and today would be her first day without him.
“Don’t wake up,” he whispered against the curve of her shoulder, granting her the gift of lying there while he caressed her sensitized skin as though he couldn’t get enough of her, lingering over the places that raised goosebumps on her flesh. She sighed and stretched, letting his fingers skim her back and waist and hips, then lower, between her thighs until she murmured dreamily, opening to his touch. Rayne stroked her slick folds, his lips brushing the nape of her neck. He was hard against her and she pressed toward him, wanting more.
He kissed her neck, fingertips sliding over her aroused flesh. She moaned as the pleasure bloomed brightly, squirming against his erection. He pushed his hard length into position without trying to slide inside, content to drive her half crazy with frustration, bringing her close to the peak before slowing his fingers. His murmurs faded beneath the thump of her heart, her trust in him the only thing keeping her from begging for an end to the excruciating pleasure.
She whimpered when he moved her upper leg forward, easing into her from behind and adjusting the angle to give her the friction she needed. The instant the position registered her mind shrieked, breaking the spell they’d woven.
A cruel knee pressing into her spine, splaying her against her mattress while he tied her wrist to the brass headboard. The feel of him trying to push into her from behind. She went rigid.
Rayne had gone absolutely still. “Stay with me,” he murmured, trying to guide her back into the moment with patient, tender hands. He held her, awaiting her assent, a solid presence filling her. She wriggled away.
The bed shifted as he sat up. “Chris?” He was careful not to touch her, always mindful of not doing anything that might scare her, always holding back a little, tempering his strength and the raw passion buried beneath all the tenderness.
She took a steadying breath, bringing herself back to the present as the horrible images faded. Steely resolve formed in their wake. No more. She would not let the past steal another damned second from her. This was her body, her life. She was taking the power back that had been stolen from her.
She rolled over and pushed him onto his back, soothing the concern in his eyes with a deep kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair as her lips moved over his face. Stretching out on top of him, she reveled in his growl of approval, using her entire body to caress him, then followed with slow movements of her hands and mouth. Each gasp and moan she wrung from him added to her confidence, her own pleasure. By the time she straddled his hips, she was trembling with need. Poised above him, she moved back and forth over his erection in a tantalizing motion, mesmerized by the desperate hunger burning in his gaze.
Control. She’d needed it, and he’d given it to her. Her body quivered as she teased them both.
His jaw clenched, his eyes smoldering up at her. “Chris...”
“Not yet,” she whispered, enjoying the delicious torture too much. His hands wandered over her sensitized skin until she whimpered, and when he reared up to close his mouth on her breast she cried out and finally sank down to take him inside her with a shudder.
His eyes closed, neck arching as he groaned, a picture of male ecstasy. The sense of power thrilled her, the control making her feel like a benevolent conqueror, lavishing pleasure on her lover. She moaned at the feel of him filling her, stretching her to bursting, loving the way his hands gripped her hips so urgently while she moved. He reached one hand down to caress between her legs with devastating skill as he sucked her nipple into his hot mouth. Her head fell back with a shuddering gasp.
She arched and moved in her own rhythm, craving the orgasm he was building for her, working herself up and down the length of him, mewling as his sleep-roughened voice coaxed her toward the edge, more intense than she’d ever known. She let go with a cry of triumph and let the wave take her. Rayne locked his arms around her and surged faster until he stiffened and groaned with his own release, his muscles relaxing as he drew her down and held her against him.
His sleepy chuckle ruffled her hair. “God, I love you.” Already half asleep, Christa smiled contentedly against his chest.
****
By mid-morning she’d almost worn a hole in Rayne’s carpet. He’d gone in to work for a briefing and training exercise, leaving her alone with her lucky bat and strict instructions not to set foot outside the door, nor to let anyone beyond the security phone in the foyer. A few more days like this and she’d be climbing the walls.
The phone rang, saving her sanity. Teryl. She snatched up her cell. “Thank God you called, I was starting to go out of my mind.”
“Ch-Chris...” Her voice hitched.
Christa put a hand to her stomach. “What? Teryl, what’s wrong?”
A heart-wrenching sob answered. “I think—I think I lost the baby.”
She sucked in a breath. “What? Where are you?”
“In the hospital. I g-got out of bed this morning and started b-bleeding.”
Oh, God. She grabbed her purse from the table. “Is Drew with you?”
Teryl sniffed. “He’s at the fire hall...has to w-wait for someone to relieve him.” She gulped down more sobs. “They s-said there’s nothing they can do, that if I’m going to mi-miscarry then it’s going to happen. I have to come back in one w-week to have another blood test and ultrasound, to see if...”
To see if the baby was still alive or not. “Oh, Ter, I’m so sorry.” The pain in her friend’s voice sliced her inside. She had to get to the hospital somehow. No matter what the
circumstances, Teryl would have done the same for her.
“I’m so scared.” Her friend fell apart then, choking on noisy sobs.
“Hang in there, hon. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” But how, with Rayne at work?
Ending the call, she considered her options. She’d have to call a cab and when it dropped her at the door at the hospital she run inside. With plenty of people around, she’d be fine until Drew arrived.
She called Rayne, who thankfully answered, and once she’d explained what was happening, told her to have the neighbor, Mr. Trowbridge, take her down to the cab when it arrived. She promised to text Rayne once she was on the way to the hospital, and that she’d stay with Drew and Teryl until Rayne could come get her himself.
She did as he said, maintaining her vigilance as Mr. Trowbridge escorted her out to the curb when the cab arrived. She thanked him and slid inside, making sure she locked the door as she told the driver to take her to the hospital. Clouds swollen with rain hung low over the water, the Gulf Islands blanketed by mist, the bay pewter-gray. Fat raindrops splattered on the windshield, then unleashed in a torrent, almost as if the sky was crying.
****
Sitting in a car across the street from the cop’s condo, raindrops sliding down his windshield, Seth stared through scratchy eyes at the third-story window. Christa was all alone up there, would be for some time yet. His blood heated. This might be his only opportunity. Should he risk going in now? The security here was better than at her place, but he could handle it. A cab pulled up to the curb.
Hovering there in indecision, he was startled when the security gate squealed open and Christa emerged with a middle-aged man. She got into the cab and the man left.
Surely it couldn’t be that easy.
He started his own engine as the cab pulled away, tamping down the geyser of excitement gushing through his veins. His breathing came in rapid, shallow bursts and his hands dampened the steering wheel as he pulled out some distance behind her.
Where was she going? Why would she leave alone?