“I’m not alone, Sam. You’re here,” he retorted.
Sam advanced on Jacob. “Get out.”
“What has you sad?” Jacob asked Amelia again, ignoring Sam.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, but looked at her brother.
Jacob turned on Samuel. “What did you say to her?”
“This is between the two of us, Jacob,” Sam said. “It’s none of your concern.”
“It is if you’re hurting her.”
Sam chuckled, slightly sardonically. “I have never harmed my sister.”
Quincy rushed into the room. “What’s going on in here?”
Sam fisted his hand at his side. “Your brother refuses to leave my little sister’s room.”
“He’s abusing her,” Jacob seethed. “I won’t stand for it.
“I am not abusing her. It’s unacceptable for you to be in here alone with her,” Samuel snapped.
Quincy rolled his eyes. “Sam, I understand you’re worried about your wife, and it would appear you’re looking for a fight. However, you will not be getting one tonight.”
Sam let loose a few choice curses at his friend.
Quincy groaned. “Victoria’s on her way back here, which means that Jake and Amelia will be adequately chaperoned.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t want him near her.”
Before Jacob could respond, Quincy held a hand up. “Don’t rise to it, Jake.”
“Do I have any say?” Amelia asked.
“Of course not,” Sam said.
“Go away, Sam, and don’t come back until you’re nice again,” Amelia snapped.
Sam scowled, but left the room instead of responding, and once again finding Crow lurking in the hallway. This time with an expression that spoke volumes, and slightly mocking him. Christine met Sam at Rayne’s room and gave him a forced smile.
“What’s amiss?” Sam asked.
Christine wrung her hands. “Rayne is having a difficult time staying awake.”
“Meaning?”
“Stephen believes she has a concussion.”
Sam didn’t wait to hear anymore, forcing the door open and dashing into the room. Stephen had an arm wrapped around Rayne’s waist and held her arm around his neck. Her head lobbed in front of her and Stephen was dragging her back and forth.
“Rayne?” Sam took her from Stephen and mimicked his movement. “What happened?”
“She started to fade when you left the room. She needs to stay awake.” Stephen took Rayne’s wrist and felt her pulse.
Sam shifted Rayne in his arms and whispered, “Angel, wake up. You need to open your eyes.”
Rayne’s head flopped onto his shoulder. “Sam?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Can you force yourself awake?”
Rayne groaned. “I’m trying, honey. It’s a little hard when your head feels like a lead weight.”
“I know.” Sam gave Stephen a frantic look.
Stephen dropped Rayne’s wrist and nodded. “She just has to stay awake for a few hours. If she can do that, she’ll be out of the woods.”
“Piece of cake,” Rayne slurred.
“All right, Angel, let’s keep you moving,” Sam said, and he held her tight and shuffled toward the window.
“I’ll gather reinforcements.” Stephen gathered his bag from the bench. “We’ll take shifts.”
“I won’t need assistance,” Sam said emphatically.
Rayne snorted.
“We’ll have the women help as much as we can, Sam, but if she needs to be hauled around, we’re going to need muscle,” Stephen said.
Sam didn’t respond as he continued to move Rayne around the room.
“You’ll need to take a break at some point, Sam.” Stephen shrugged into his jacket. “I suggest you take the assistance.”
Sam frowned but before he could say anything, Christine said, “Sam, I have requested a bath for Rayne. The staff will bring it in an hour.”
“Thank you,” he said.
* * *
Rayne didn’t know how long she and Sam paced the bedroom; all she knew was that the cloud was finally beginning to clear. Although her head pounded, she no longer felt nauseous or dizzy, and her steps became a little sturdier. “We can stop for a minute, Sam. I feel better.”
“It hasn’t been an hour.”
“Did Stephen say we had to keep going for an entire hour?”
Sam sighed. “I don’t remember, to be honest.”
“Well, I feel much better, so what are the odds of a bath?”
Sam led her to the bench and helped her sit down. “Hold onto the bed, Angel.”
Rayne nodded and smiled.
Sam pulled open the door and spoke with someone, Rayne wasn’t sure who, and then made his way back to her. “Christine is sending up a bath and Stephen will be in to check on you momentarily.”
* * *
Rayne managed to bathe without passing out, and once Stephen examined her, he deemed her out of the woods enough to sleep. Once Victoria had forced him to eat, Sam stretched out beside his sleeping wife and gently kissed her forehead.
“Sam?” she rasped as she tried to turn her head. “Ow.”
“Shh, Angel, don’t move,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”
“Advil and water.”
“I’m not certain that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”
“Just get my bag, baby. It’ll be fine,” Rayne said. “I put it back in the wardrobe this morning.”
He climbed off the bed and went to the wardrobe. There was a hidden compartment in the bottom of it, where she’d hidden the modern-day backpack, and he was relieved that it was still there. Sam opened the Advil and handed her two tablets and some water. “Now that you have your tablets, I want you to close your eyes and rest, Angel.”
“How’s Amelia?”
Sam tried to relax his shoulders as he ground out, “She’s fine.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Rayne. All is well.”
“Sam, something’s wrong. What’s going on with your sister?”
Sam shook his head. “Other than her acting out of character, allowing a man to be alone in her room with her, and arguing with me about her conduct, nothing.”
Rayne sighed. “Oh, honey, you didn’t!”
“Didn’t what?”
“Outside of the fact you were often alone with me in a bedroom? She’s eighteen, Sam.” Rayne squeezed his hand. “She’s smart as a whip and even you said you’re not her father, so where’s this all coming from now? Don’t start alienating her. I really like having her around.”
“We’ll discuss this later.” Sam cupped her cheek. “Sleep now.”
“I don’t want to close my eyes.” She stretched slowly, wincing as her body protested the movement.
“I know. But, you’ll try, won’t you?” He stroked her cheek. “For me.”
“Nice, Sam. Patronize me. That works really well.” Rayne smiled.
Sam chuckled and gave her a little squeeze. “Close your eyes.”
He stroked her back and waited to hear her even breathing before climbing off the bed and removing his clothes. He climbed back into the bed and pulled her close. Knowing she was safe in his arms helped calm his shattered nerves, but it still took him a long time to fall asleep.
* * *
Rayne woke with nightmares several times, but Sam pulled her close and soothed her back to sleep relatively quickly. She didn’t wake again until the sun started its ascent.
“Good morning,” he said and smiled as she looked up at him.
Rayne licked her lips. “Hi. How long have you been awake?”
“Not long. How do you feel?”
“Honestly?” Rayne sighed. “Everything hurts.”
“Let’s have a look.”
He helped her climb out of bed and then checked her injuries. Her bruises looked much worse, but he assured her it meant she was healing.
“I look terrible,” she complained as she studied h
er face in the mirror.
He turned her and cupped her face. “You look beautiful.”
She scrunched her nose up at him. “Better than I did the day you put me in jail?”
Sam laughed. “If you recall, Angel, I was the one who released you.”
“Right. How could I forget?” She sighed. “I guess this falls under the suddenly-turning-into-a-troll category.”
“Not even close. Shall we get dressed and head downstairs for breakfast?”
Rayne nodded and leaned close to the mirror. “No stitches.”
Sam shook his head. “No, Stephen didn’t think they were necessary. Your lip should heal on its own.”
“Well, I always wanted big, fat, kissable lips… I just didn’t quite plan to get them this way.”
Sam groaned. “Rayne.”
* * *
Over the next two weeks, Rayne healed quicker than expected, and she worked closely with Victoria and Hannah to create their refuge. Alice was the heir to Jimmy’s property, and with her newfound wealth and power, she was more than happy to assist. Rayne knew it would take time for women to learn about their mission, and trust them, but in the interim, they had the refugees on the railroad line.
Sophie spent time counseling a few of the women escapees. Rayne discovered she had a knack for counseling as well, so when it was time for Sophie to return to Harrisburg, she took over the job.
Sam mentioned on more than one occasion how proud he was of her. Rayne’s heart swelled when she overheard him speaking with Crow.
“Her bravery’s immeasurable, and her ability to comfort beaten women and children is impressive.”
“I’ve heard,” Crow said.
“Not only is she assisting with the Underground Railroad, she’s able to provide refuge to several women without discovery.”
Rayne pushed the parlor door open and peeked in. “You know this is a joint effort.”
Sam chuckled.
Rayne raised an eyebrow. “You knew I was standing out there, didn’t you?”
Sam held his hand out to her and grinned. “You’re my eavesdropping star; of course I knew you were there.”
Rayne wove her fingers with his. “Well, remember that I rely on Hannah heavily for her aptitude to spot the liars and the nosier neighbors.”
With unfinished business at the prison, Sam was still required to travel back to D.C. on a semi-regular basis, so they spent a lot of their time with the Butlers.
“Yes, you do. What I find most remarkable, however, is how well you all work together.”
Rayne grinned. “You mean, as in women working together as a cohesive unit, a bit like in the army?”
“Those are your words,” Sam said.
“I think it’s more the fact you seem to read each other’s minds,” Crow explained.
“It’s a gift,” Rayne said. “But I think we just each work within our strengths.”
“I find it remarkable,” Crow said with a grin.
Crow spent more time with them as well, which Rayne knew surprised Sam. When she insisted one of the rooms be allocated for him exclusively, Sam was shocked when Crow agreed. When Crow wasn’t tracking, he stayed with them, and Rayne mentioned more than once how thrilled she was that they were able to spend at least two weeks a month with him.
Rayne sighed. “You know, if I could wish upon a star, Crow, I’d wish for you and Shaye to meet.”
Crow snorted. “I understand she’s a saint.”
Rayne nodded. “She is.”
“Then it would never work.”
Rayne smiled to herself. The man was complicated and layered, but also loyal and strong. He would love completely, and Rayne knew without a shadow of doubt Shaye would love him back. “Perhaps we’ll find out one day.”
Sam chuckled. “Anything’s possible, Angel.”
“I’m proof of that.”
Sam leaned down and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled as she felt the weight of her worries leave her. She was loved wholly and unconditionally and for the first time in her life, she was home.
Seattle, Washington
Present Day
SHAYE MONTGOMERY STOOD with her hands on her hips in the middle of the Seattle apartment she’d shared for several years with her best friend, Rayne Green. A multi-platinum recording artist, Rayne had mysteriously disappeared two months ago after her sold-out concert in Chicago and Shaye was trying to find a clue as to why. Anything that might lead her to her friend.
“Shaye?”
Shaye glanced to where Trevor Miller, Rayne’s head of security, stood in her open concept kitchen. Six feet something and built like a brick wall, Trevor embodied the epitome of what many women considered the perfect man. His dark hair and olive skin emphasized intense brown eyes and when he smiled, the dimple in his cheek deepened. “Do you want some wine?”
Trevor had stopped by to check on her, and found her surrounded by notepads and newspapers. In pure Trevor fashion, he’d forced his way in and offered to make dinner.
So far, he’d managed to open a bottle of wine.
“Sure, Trevor. Thanks.” Shaye ran her hands through her hair with a sigh.
Trevor leaned across the kitchen island. “Any word from that Jared guy?”
“He just gave me the address in Chicago where he’d last seen her. Now, he won’t respond to anything.” A little quieter, “the jackass.”
“Did you just swear, Miss Montgomery?” Trevor asked in mock offense.
Shaye sent him a pointed smirk. “They use the word ‘ass’ in the Bible, so, no, I did not swear.”
Hearing the deep timbre of Trevor’s laugh as she slipped around the corner of the living room, she moved to the front of Rayne’s desk and opened one drawer, then another. She slammed the last drawer shut and kicked the desk chair in frustration. “Ouch! Dang it!”
Trevor rushed from the kitchen and nearly tripped over her sitting on the floor, injured foot in her hand. “What did you do?”
Shaye glanced up at him with a frown. “I kicked the chair.”
“Without shoes on?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that was dumb,” he said, but tempered it with a sympathetic chuckle. “What are you looking for, exactly? The police have already gone through this place with a fine-toothed comb.”
“I know. I guess I hoped I could open a drawer and something would pop out at me.” She reached out her hand. “Help me up, so I can get some ice.”
Hearing the sound of “I’m Too Sexy” break the silence as his cell phone rang, Shaye rolled her eyes. Trevor grinned and grasped her hand, lifting her from the floor. He flipped the phone open, raised it to his ear—and scowled. “Oh, hi, Kimber.”
Shaye gave a quiet giggle and then whispered, “Don’t you have caller ID?”
Kimber LaRue, Shaye’s assistant—and she used the word loosely—was the record company president’s niece, and an all around pain in the butt.
“Yeah, Kimber, I don’t think that’s going to work.” Trevor rolled his eyes. “No, I’m at Shaye’s.”
Hobbling to the kitchen for an icepack, Shaye found the glass of wine Trevor had poured. She poured another one, walked back into the living room, and handed one to him before sitting on the sofa.
“No, we haven’t heard from Rayne,” he continued.
Holding the icepack on her foot as she sipped her wine, Shaye watched Trevor pace the floor.
“Kimber, tell your uncle there’s nothing to tell,” Trevor snapped.
Shaye noticed his nostrils flare. Nothing ever went well when Trevor got angry, and it would appear he was rapidly achieving irritation.
This might take a while.
She picked up her laptop and pulled up her current Google News page in an effort to ignore his conversation. Rayne’s disappearance had slipped to the number six story. Sipping her wine again, she was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice when Trevor ended his call.
“Shaye?”
Shaye loo
ked up in confusion. “Huh?”
“Are you okay?” Trevor frowned.
“Yes, sorry. I was just reading.” She smiled. “How’s Kimber?”
“You mean, the dingbat?”
“Be nice, Trevor. I know she’s a little negative, but she’s had a rough life.”
“Yeah, her silver spoon life really sucked.” Trevor let out a derisive snort. “Shaye, you’re too nice to her, especially considering she tries to sabotage you all the time.”
Shaye gave a little shrug. “Maybe.”
Trevor sighed. “Never mind. How’s your foot?”
“It’s fine.”
“Why the frown?”
Shaye forced a smile. “What frown?”
Trevor chuckled. “Nice effort. Seriously, though, are you okay?”
“I just want to find Rayne.” She set her laptop aside and rose to her feet. “But there’s nothing we can do tonight, so where’s that meal you promised?”
Trevor gave an unconvincing look of contrition. “You’re drinking it.”
Shaye’s stomach rumbled rather loudly. “Chinese?”
“Definitely.”
Grabbing their coats, they left to find an open restaurant.
* * *
Shaye woke the next morning with a plan in mind and a way to execute it before anyone realized what she was doing.
At least, that was her hope.
After showering and packing a few things in her backpack, she looked at the clock. Her working lunch with Trevor, scheduled for just after twelve, meant she only had an hour to get on the road before he’d try to stop her. She rechecked her bag, made sure she hadn’t missed anything, and then made her way out to the waiting taxi. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped outside her building and was greeted by sheets of rain and a sudden gust of wind. Luckily, she’d grabbed her jacket, scarf, and gloves before she left the apartment.
The driver dropped her on the sidewalk of SeaTac’s departing flights and she made her way inside the terminal and found the airline kiosk, where she entered her information. Tapping her foot as she waited for the boarding pass to spit out, she grabbed the piece of paper almost before it stopped printing, and took off for security. She took her place at the end of the line.
“Shoot!”
Her flight was scheduled to leave in thirty minutes and if this line didn’t move faster, she’d never make it. She pulled out her driver’s license and wrapped her boarding pass around it in an effort to be prepared. Her cell phone rang as she readjusted her backpack. She didn’t recognize the number and waffled between ignoring and answering the call. In the end, she chose to answer. “Hello?”
The Bride Star (Civil War Brides Book 6) Page 30