Haynes, K. R. - The Light in Her Eyes [In Her Eyes] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by K. R. Haynes

  Timing was the key in giving the gift. It had to be right.

  And so far the timing hadn’t been right, hadn’t felt right either.

  Now, though, he wondered if the timing wasn’t damn well near perfect.

  Peeking over at her again, Randall decided that the time was indeed perfect. Rising from his seat and dropping his empty plate in the sink, he came over to where Chloe sat eating the food he had prepared for her. “You done then?” she asked him.

  “Yep,” he said and dropped a kiss to the side of her cheek while running a hand up and down her back. “I’ll be back in a sec. I want to go get something for you.”

  Without giving her any more information than that, Randall slipped out of the kitchen and walked swiftly down to his study. Opening the door and going over to his desk, he pulled open the top drawer and grabbed the keys from it then walked over to the cabinet in the far corner. Unlocking the door, he retrieved the gift he’d placed carefully inside. Locking everything back up, he headed back to the kitchen.

  “Chloe.” Randall waited for her to turn around on her seat to face him. “Remember the day after you came home from hospital and Mary J came around to see you and I went out?”

  “Yes,” she whispered to him, a frown creasing her brow.

  “Well, I brought you something, something I think you loved but lost in the fire. I know it’s not much. I know I can’t replace everything that you lost to the fire. This I guess is a starting point.” Handing over his gift to her, Randall could feel a blush rising up his neck to his cheeks. “I was waiting for the right time to give it to you, and well, there’s no better time than right now.”

  “I don’t know what to say except thank you. May I open it now or later?”

  “You may open it now.”

  Chloe slid off her seat and knelt on the floor in front of her gift. She tore into the wrapping paper like an excited kid on Christmas day. Randall couldn’t help but smile down at her, even if he did feel nervous. Would she even like what he brought her?

  Holding his breath as the last layer of paper was torn away, Chloe stumbled upon her words when she spoke to him. “J–Jon, oh god—how did you know?”

  “Know that you grieved for a print given to you way back when?”

  “Yes,” she whispered through the knot of emotion lodged in her throat.

  “I had it inscribed for you. Turn it around and read out loud to me.”

  She quickly turned around the painting he had given her. Not the abstract print she’d had in her kitchen, but the actual painting of it instead. He knew the moment her eyes drifted over the inscribing he had placed on the back of the print for her, when tears fell from her eyes. They were the same words he had written on the back of the print he had given to her on her sixteenth birthday.

  “How?” she asked him as she gazed up at him with tear-soaked eyes.

  “Read them out loud, Chloe. I want to hear you say them first, then I’ll tell you.”

  Seeing her swallowing at the lump in her throat and drawing in a deep, calming breath, had him choking up at little, too. She read the inscribed words out loud to him.

  “No matter where you are in life or where life takes you, my heart will always belong only to you, Chloe. My love is and forever will be only for you. J. W. Randall.” Gazing up at him, stunned, she asked, “You gave me that print I had in my kitchen, didn’t you?”

  Randall nodded his head to confirm that he did give it to her. Chloe reached up for his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “I don’t understand. I mean, I understand but I don’t at the same time. The words are the same,” she said, peeking down quickly at the inscription on the back of the painting. “You didn’t sign your name on the back of the print though.”

  “No, I didn’t. More so to make sure your parents didn’t burn it at the sight of my initials.”

  “Oh, Jon…”

  Leaning the painting up against the wall behind her, Chloe rose to her feet then threw herself at him. She wrapped herself around him tightly, her whole body pressing up against his. “Thank you, Jon, a thousand times thank you.”

  Lifting her head from his bare chest dampened by her tears, Randall took her lips with his. He allowed Chloe permission to feast on his lips, her emotions spilling out of her hard and fast as she kissed him with everything she had. Her hands delved into the hair at his nape, drawing him in closer to her. Encouraged by her show of emotions, he skimmed his hands up and down her body underneath the shirt, causing her to shiver against him.

  “Jon.” The sound of his name falling from her lips was a desperate plea for more. She wanted him and needed the lover he was to her. She may not have verbally spoken about the love she held in her heart to him, but her love for him was clearly evident in the response she gave him. “I know, Chloe. I know, lover.” He reassured her with his words before picking her up and carrying her down the hall to their bedroom.

  His lips never left hers, not even for a moment. This was the reaction he had been hoping for from his woman. Never in his wildest dreams did he think it would actually happen.

  Randall realised right then he was more in love with Chloe now than he had been yesterday or even a decade ago when he first became captivated by her.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  They were all gathered in the command centre awaiting the final orders for the raid about to go down at 0600 hours. The arse crack of dawn, in other words. Randall should be asleep in his bed, with his woman naked and wrapped around him like a second skin. Except he wasn’t. He was stuck at the station at five fucking o’clock in the morning instead.

  Yeah, you could say he was a grumping bastard this morning, and there was no way in hell he was apologising for his mood either. Still believing this whole raid to be a complete and utter waste of personnel and tax payers’ money only increased his grumpy-arse mood.

  All the intel gathered so far along with the statement from their informer gave them all piss-weak evidence to say the least. His arse of a team leader still had it in his stubborn head that they were going ahead with this morning’s raid. His arse of a boss had even had the balls to say there would be no exceptions, which only infuriated Randall even more. The raid today was going down at the second to last warehouse in the area, down at the harbour.

  Once the building was all secured and by the off chance evidence gathered, it would be taken back to the station for analysis at the lab. Highly unlikely anything would be found though. Randall would bet his life and house on that fact. His boss would order another raid soon on the last remaining warehouse if this morning’s raid turned out to be unsuccessful.

  “Fuck that,” Randall grunted to himself while taking his seat in the command centre.

  Listening intently to his boss inform them all on how the raid would be executed, Randall and his team all surveyed the satellite imagery of the warehouse and surrounding area. There were blueprints of the building spread out on a table. Randall was bent over the blueprints studying the exits and entrance points, when Mick came over to him.

  “So what do you think, Randall?” Mick asked him.

  “What do I think, bro?” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. “I think this is a fucking waste of time if you ask me.”

  Mick smirked at him. “Rough morning, bro?”

  Randall just grunted at his longtime friend and fellow team member and went back to studying the blueprints. Something about this whole raid didn’t sit well with him. Running his fingertip over the print, he memorised the all the exit points.

  Turning to his friend, he said, “Mick, something about this raid doesn’t add up to me.”

  “Yeah, kind of caught that. So what has your panties in a twist this fine arse of a morning anyway? I would say not getting enough action in the bedroom, but I would be wrong.”

  “Shut the fuck up about my sex life, Mick. If anyone is not getting enough it would be you.” Moving away from the imagery laid out on the table, Randall paced. He was aggravated and downright pissed an
d that was putting it mildly. Not at his friend though. This raid, something about it didn’t quite gel. They were missing something, but what?

  Running his hand through his hair, he turned and tugged Mick outside into the empty corridor. He kept his voice low, not wanting anyone else to pick up on his apprehensiveness in doing this raid. “We’re missing something,” he said pointing to the doorway leading into the command centre. “There are facts we don’t have, when we should have them.”

  “What are you saying, bro?”

  “I’m saying either the informer gave us a bullshit statement or someone higher up is not giving us all the intel we need to do this job properly.”

  “Shit, you really are a suspicious bastard, aren’t you?”

  “Not suspicious, Mick, cautious, and you can’t blame me for that. Not after everything that happened to Chloe.” He leaned in so only Mick could hear his next words. “If something does go down today, I want you to be the one to tell her. Don’t allow her to be alone, Mick. Chloe will try to push you away. Don’t let her.”

  “Shit, Randall, don’t keep saying shit like this.”

  “I need to, mate.” Swallowing down the emotion lodged in his throat he pushed on. “Chloe, well, she is everything to me, man. I need to know that if something happens to me out there on the job, she’ll be taken care of by someone I trust with my own life.”

  “I’ve got your back, mate, always. If and only if the worst happens, I will make sure your Chloe is not alone.”

  He bumped fists with his old friend, and the subject was dropped and closed. They both headed back into the command centre for the final briefing before grabbing their gear and loaded up the vehicles. They all headed out to their designated entry points to wait for the green light to go in.

  * * * *

  The countdown for entry was on.

  This was the part of the job Randall loved the most, when the adrenaline kicked in. His eyes were only on the entry point ahead of him. His mind was completely blank of everything expect for the job at hand. They were all suited up, ready for action.

  There were three guys going in through the back entrance and another three entering via the side door. Randall, Mick, and Murphy, another team member, were taking the front entrance. Upon hearing the team leader advising them all, “Green light, go. Go. Go,” they all stormed into the warehouse.

  Guns raised, Randall slipped in through the front entrance first. Pointing his finger at Mick to take the left side and Murphy to take the right side, Randall took the middle section. Easing further into the building, through his earpiece he heard the other members of the team swarming into the building to sweep it clean.

  Seeing a door which could lead down to a possible hidden cellar, Randall advised he was going in. Hearing his boss tell him to approach with caution had him wanting to tell his boss where to go. But he didn’t.

  As he lifted the almost rotten wooden door on the floor open and shined his torch down the wooden staircase, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something about this was off.

  Taking the steps one at a time, they creaked under his heavy, booted stride. Randall swung the torch around on his descent into the dark abyss of a room to get a clearer view. His heart pounded in his ears. Sweat beaded on his brow the further he moved down the staircase. Shining the torch over to the left, the reflection bounced off something metallic down on the floor.

  Keeping the urgency of the situation in his voice, Randall spoke quietly into his mic while carefully approaching the metallic box on the floor. “We’ve got a situation here,” he advised his fellow team members and team leader. “Right-hand corner cellar floor, an unidentified object has been located. I want the building cleared. I repeat, I want the building cleared. We have a possible live bomb in place.”

  * * * *

  They had all cleared out of the building, with no sign of any of the members of the Gang of 39 anywhere to be found. The fact that they had discovered a possible live bomb meant the gang had been tipped off about the raid. Either the informer had talked or the gang had someone working for them on the inside. The raids that had been meticulously planned had been organised under a high level clearance. Only senior members in the Bomb Squad and the police department knew about them. This meant one of his team members or someone higher up in the food chain was a mole. Who though?

  Staring into the eyes of his boss and team members, Randall wondered if any one of them had talked as he continued to report back about the explosive device he discovered down in the cellar.

  They had measures in place for this, plans if any live or non-live bombs were discovered. Randall grabbed his bomb suit and with Mick’s help he pulled the damn heavy thing on. No words were said between the two of them. Randall knew Mick was remembering their little convo back at the station. Glancing up at him as he slid the helmet over his head, Randall gave his friend a subtle nod to confirm he was down with what he told him earlier.

  With the helmet strapped on and the body suit zipped and buckled up he was ready for action. Drawing in a steadying breath, Randall moved out of the makeshift command centre set up in the back of one of the bomb squad’s trucks. He and Murphy approached the building silently.

  With Murphy covering the entrance to the cellar, Randall made his way down the creaking staircase. His eyes remained firmly fixed on the live bomb ahead of him. He kept his movements gradual on his approach, and his eyes constantly searched the area around the device, checking for any trigger points or trip wires linked to it.

  Nothing linked to it so far.

  Crouching down in front of the device, Randall reached out with a glove-covered hand and slowly lifted the metal casing off the top of the bomb, his hands rock steady even if his heart was beating a million miles an hour. Beads of sweat littered his forehead, trickling into his eyes.

  Blinking his eyes to remove the sweat gathered there. He spoke into the headpiece attached to the inside of his helmet. “Okay, boys and girls, looks like a regular, everyday backyard bomb. It should be easy enough to defuse.”

  Grabbing his wire cutters from the belt around his waist, in the back of his mind Randall knew he had done this a thousand times. Yet his gut instincts were screaming at him to choose wisely. Closing the wire cutters around the white wires linked to the heart of the bomb, Randall snipped them free from the explosive. He watched stunned as the digit clock counted down the remaining seconds in the flicker of an eye.

  The whole room shook as the bomb exploded around him. Randall found himself thrown hard against the brick wall. Agonising pain exploded within his body. “Chloe.” Her name fell from his lips before he was sucked under by the blackness shadowing his mind.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Stepping free from the shower, Chloe cursed when she heard her phone ring for what must have been the sixteenth time in the past fifteen minutes. “Can’t a girl even have a shower in peace?” she huffed to herself.

  Dismissing the ringing of her phone, Chloe dried herself off and pulled on a pair of skinny denim jeans and a loose-fitting hood jumper, being that it was getting cooler outside these days. Trudging into the kitchen, the damn house phone started ring. Ignoring it and letting it go to voicemail, she headed over to the fridge to start prepping for tonight’s dinner. Candlelight, a hearty meal, and Randall’s company were on the menu for tonight.

  Upon hearing Mick’s strained voice echoing over the answering machine, she froze midstep. “Chloe, are you there? Pick up, for god’s sake…Shit!” Alarmed by the tone in his voice, Chloe picked up the receiver.

  “Mick, it’s Chloe. Is everything all right?”

  “Chloe, where the fuck have you been?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, gorgeous, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.” Shit. “Where are you? I have been trying to get hold of you for the past twenty minutes or so.”

  “Why? Has something happened? Oh god, is Randall all right?”

  “Chloe, where are you right now?�
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  “I’m at home. Why? Is everything all right, Mick?”

  Hearing Mick cleared his throat, Chloe knew instantly that everything was not all right. She just hoped what she was about to hear wouldn’t crush her into a thousand tiny pieces of nothingness. “Chloe, sweetheart, it’s Randall. There’s been an accident.”

  “Ohh, god…no…” Drawing in a shuddering breath, she said, “Please don’t tell me he’s…”

  “Randall’s alive, sweetheart, but he’s in pretty bad shape. They’ve taken him to the hospital, the same one you were taken to. Can you get down here?”

  “I–I don’t have a car. It was ruined in the fire and I haven’t had time to replace it.” Chloe could hear her voice breaking as she spoke. Tears stung the backs of her eyelids but she refused to let them fall. She had to remain strong, for Randall’s sake.

  “I’ll send a patrol car around to the house to pick you up and take you to the hospital then. Be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

  Chloe ended the call with Mick after saying good-bye. She still couldn’t believe it. Randall had been hurt. She stumbled around the bedroom, packing a small bag with a change of clothes for both her and him. She shoved a few toiletries into the bag as well. God knows how long he was expected to be in there for, or what injuries he had. Mick hadn’t divulged what sort of condition Randall had been in when he had been rushed to the hospital.

  An accident in his line of work could only be severe enough to cause injuries requiring hospitalisation, if there was a…bomb explosion.

  Collapsing to her knees on the bedroom floor she cried out, “Oh god.”

  “Jon.” His name fell from her lips on a hushed, agonising whisper.

  After regaining her composure, snatching up her purse and keys from the hall table, Chloe locked up the house and waited on the front porch for the patrol car to pull into the driveway.

  No matter how long Randall stayed in hospital for, Chloe was determined to stay with him the whole time. She wasn’t going to leave his side, not until he walked out the damn hospital on his own two feet.