Romancing Rayne

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Romancing Rayne Page 7

by Riley Edwards


  I knelt down, ignoring the sticky, wet mess, and tried to keep a respectable distance. “My name is Ghost. You’re a pretty smart girl not talking to a stranger, but we need to find your mommy and daddy. Do you see them?” She remained quiet but shook her head again. I could see panic was quickly making its way to the surface. “Okay. Would you like to stand here and wait while I walk to the checkout counter to get a police officer or would you like to walk with me?” The girl pointed to the cashier station. I took that as confirmation she wanted to come with me. With a quick glance over to find Rayne still looking through the swords, I started to walk toward the cashier with the little girl following closely.

  After explaining to the frazzled employee the little girl beside me was lost, the woman informed me they didn’t have a loud speaker in the shop, advising me I needed to take the girl to the security office just outside the store. The less than helpful woman didn’t seem to care a man taking a child that was not his out of the safety of a public area was not acceptable and extremely dangerous. Arguing was getting me nowhere. The sooner I took the girl to the police, the faster I could get back to Rayne.

  Once again, I knelt down and spoke to the child. “Are you sure you don’t see your mommy or daddy in here?” She shook her head. “Did you hear what the lady said about me taking you to the office outside where the police officers are?” She nodded. “Do you want to go with me or wait here for me to bring them to you?”

  “I’m scared,” she finally spoke. Her wobbly voice accompanied by a fresh set of tears pissed me off. How could a parent lose their child? Being as crowded as it was, it was an abductor’s dream. They’d have easy pickings, snatching a child while the parent mindlessly browsed shit to buy.

  “I know you are. We’ll find your parents.”

  I started for the exit and was happy I was the person she’d bumped into and not some lunatic looking to steal a child. She followed closely but was careful not to touch me in any way. It would’ve been a hell of a lot quicker if I could’ve picked her up and muscled my way through the throngs of patrons.

  Finally outside, the security office was indeed directly next door to the shop, further pissing me the fuck off the cashier hadn’t called an officer into the shop instead allowing a stranger to leave with a missing girl.

  “There you are!” A woman rushed to the girl as soon as we stepped foot in the office. “Oh my God.”

  The crying mother got to her knees and hugged the little girl tightly. Before I could reprimand the mother for not keeping a better eye on her child, a man turned from the officer he was speaking to and saw his daughter safely in her mother’s arms. The tears in the father’s eyes were like a sucker punch to the gut. He’d beaten himself up more than anything I could’ve said would have.

  “Thank you.” He rushed to my side, grabbing my hand, and shaking it vigorously. “Thank you so much. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Glad I could help.” I pulled my hand away.

  Kneeling, the man joined his wife and child on the floor, wrapping them both in his arms.

  Good deed done for the day, I left to go in search of my wife. I still wanted to walk across the Tower Bridge before we had lunch. Going straight to where I’d left Rayne, I hoped she was done shopping. Finding the area empty, I glanced around the shop. I walked up and down a few aisles and still couldn’t find her. Trying to tamp down the panic that was quickly bubbling to the surface, I went to the front of the store for a better view. Passing the checkout counter, I saw a basket set to the side with a sword sticking up over the edge of the plastic carrier. I scanned the rest of the items, noting all the gifts Rayne had picked out for our friends.

  “Excuse me, ma’am? I believe those are my wife’s things back there.”

  The woman turned and looked before speaking. “Yes. Would you like to pay for them now?”

  What the fuck?

  “Why is it there?”

  “She asked me to hold it. She said she needed to find you to pay for it.”

  Pay for it? Rayne had a wallet full of credit cards. That didn’t make any sense.

  “Was she alone when she left?”

  A thousand scenarios played out in my head. None of them good.

  “She appeared to be.” The woman eyed me suspiciously. “Aren’t you the man with the missing child?”

  “You mean the little girl you let walk of the store with a stranger? Yes. She’s next door with her parents. Now, my wife. Are you sure she was alone when she left?”

  “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Leave?” I growled. “Answer me. Was she alone and how long ago did she leave?”

  “I think you should leave before I call security.”

  “Fucking brilliant. Now you’ll call security?”

  Deciding I didn’t need the extra hassle of arguing with the police, I left and stood outside the gift shop looking in every direction for Rayne.

  Nothing.

  She was nowhere in sight.

  I paced in front of the store, even went back inside to look for her again—still nothing.

  I couldn’t leave the general vicinity in case Rayne came back looking for me. So, I did the only thing I could, I pulled my phone out, brought up a picture of Rayne, and showed it to every person that walked by, asking if they’d seen her.

  Once an hour had passed, any hopes I’d had that Rayne was nearby, lost in the sea of tourists and I simply couldn’t see her, had diminished.

  Fuck.

  Where are you, Rayne?

  The panic I’d felt over the last hour had turned to terror. I couldn’t find Rayne anywhere. More and more people had finished their tours, and the ever-changing landscape of tourists made it impossible to find her. She’d vanished.

  I dialed the number of the one person I prayed could help me find Rayne.

  12

  Rayne

  Ghost was going to be furious. I’d broken the cardinal rule for when you were separated from someone—I’d left the last place he’d seen me. After I’d found the sword I wanted, I’d stood but couldn’t find him. I’d walked around the store for a minute and when I couldn’t spot him, I’d stupidly asked the woman behind the counter to hold my gifts so I could go in search of him.

  Why did I leave the store? So stupid.

  I thought maybe he’d stepped outside to get some fresh air. He hated crowds, but I knew better than to think he’d ever leave my side when so many people were around. Well, he did leave my side; that was why I couldn’t find him. Maybe if I’d used my credit card and paid for the items I would’ve been in the shop when he came back. Instead, I’d been a cheapskate and wanted to use his cash instead of paying the exchange rate fee the bank would charge. In hindsight, paying the extra three percent would’ve saved me hours of searching the Tower of London grounds for my, if I had to guess, worried-sick husband.

  I didn’t have my cell, and there were no working phone booths on the Tower property. All the fancy, red call boxes were for show and there wasn’t a telephone inside. My next mistake was walking out of the security of the castle walls. I’d waited near the entrance of the Tower for nearly an hour thinking maybe Ghost would come out and find me. When he didn’t, I went in search of a telephone. Finding none, I walked to the coffee house across the street and asked if I could use their phone, but once I explained it was a US number they said no. I even offered them a hundred pounds for their trouble—I was dismissed with a shake of the head.

  Standing on the street corner at a complete loss, a taxi pulled up and stopped in the loading area. Then my next, very bad idea struck. If I could get back to the hotel, I could call Ghost and tell him where I was. Sure, he’d be over-the-top pissed but once he found out I was safe, he’d be relieved.

  I approached the taxi and peered through the open window.

  “Excuse me, sir, are you available?”

  The man looked up from the newspaper he was reading and folded it in half before tossing it on the seat next
to him.

  “For a fit bird I am. Where to?”

  Ignoring his comment may’ve been a mistake, too, but I was desperate to get back to the hotel. “The Park Plaza.”

  “No problem. Get in.”

  Relieved, I climbed in the cab, and away we went. One step closer to calling Ghost.

  When the cab didn’t immediately go over the Tower Bridge, I thought the driver knew a faster route, but after twenty minutes had passed and I saw a sign for the Swedenborg Gardens, I knew we were headed in the wrong direction.

  “The Park Plaza,” I reminded the driver.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  “You must not because we’re going in the wrong direction. I’m not paying you for a tour of the city. Please take me back.”

  “This is a shortcut,” he lied, and my heart rate spiked.

  Thirty minutes later, when he turned down a side street taking us away from the safety of the busy, traffic congested area, I understood why Ghost had made such a big deal about our taxi driver the first time we’d been in London. At the time, I’d stupidly thought Ghost had been overreacting by taking a picture of the driver’s ID and threatening him with the police. Why hadn’t I thought to do that before I got in? Somehow, I didn’t think it’d have the same impact as it did when Ghost did it. God, I wished he was there.

  The businesses and landmarks turned into a residential neighborhood. I watched in horror as houses gave way to an industrial area—I was fucked. I had to make a decision and fast.

  “Please take me back to the Tower. I’ll find another taxi.”

  “What, so you can stiff me? I told you I know where I’m going,” the man angrily snipped.

  The taxi started to slow for a stop sign, and I made my move. As soon as he came to a halt, I opened the door and I got out. My purse caught on the seat belt, and as I was fighting to get it free, the driver stepped on the gas and pulled away, leaving me no choice but jump out of the way and abandon my purse. The door slammed shut from the acceleration, and I watched in horror as my only hope to get back to Ghost sped away.

  No money and no phone. I was royally fucked.

  Ghost

  “Rayne’s missing,” I said by way of greeting.

  “Come again?”

  “Rayne. She’s missing. We were at the Tower of London and got separated. I can’t find her.”

  “Fuck. How long?” Tex asked.

  “A little over four hours.”

  “Four hours!”

  My guts twisted hearing Tex repeat back how long it had been since I’d seen Rayne.

  “I thought I’d find her wandering around looking for me. Either we’re walking in circles, missing each other or . . .”

  “Don’t go there. I’ll track her phone.”

  “You can’t, it’s at the hotel.”

  “No problem. Lucky for you, London has CCTV cameras everywhere. I’ll have a lock on her in less than thirty minutes. Let me work, I’ll call you back.”

  “Thirty minutes, Tex, then I’m tearing this city apart.”

  “First thing tomorrow I’m mailing a package to your house. I still don’t know why you guys haven’t outfitted your women with tracking devices. Makes my job a whole lot easier when you lose them.”

  “I don’t plan on making a habit of losing my wife,” I growled.

  “Stand by.” Tex hung up, and I began to pace.

  Why did I leave the shop? That’s right, to help a lost little girl. I was no better than the parents I’d thought badly of. Just because Rayne wasn’t a child didn’t mean she wasn’t the most precious thing in my life.

  Time seemed to stand still, each minute feeling like an hour. When Tex finally called back, I was ready to crawl out of my skin.

  “She got into a taxi,” he told me.

  “A taxi? Was she alone?”

  My heart pounded double-time in my chest. This was it; she’d been fucking taken. I knew it. In my stupidity I hadn’t done the one thing I promised I’d do, protect her.

  “Yes.”

  Fuck!

  “Wait, what? She was alone?”

  “Affirmative. She left the Tower gate and waited outside, near the ticket booth before she crossed the street and went into a Starbucks. She was in there a few minutes, came out empty handed, and stood on the corner. A taxi pulled up and she approached and got in.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Almost an hour ago.”

  “Can you track the taxi?”

  Hope bloomed in my chest. If Tex could find the taxi, I’d find Rayne.

  “The taxi was caught by a traffic cam in front of Swedenborg Gardens almost thirty minutes ago.”

  “Swedenborg Gardens?”

  Why the fuck would she be going there? We’d discussed going tomorrow, but she’d decided she’d rather see another palace. Had she changed her mind? Nothing was making sense. Rayne wouldn’t leave and go off by herself. No fucking way.

  “Yes. The taxi pulled off the main highway into a residential area. There are fewer cameras on those streets. It’s going to take me a few minutes to try to pick up the taxi’s location.”

  “Goddamn it!” I shouted, ignoring the people all around.

  “We’re going to find her. Hold tight.”

  “I can’t hold tight. My pregnant wife is God knows where, alone, with no line of communication. I lost my ability to hold fucking tight four hours ago.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “Yes,” I spit out, not caring that we’d decided not to tell our friends until we could all get together for a barbecue. Keeping the secret seemed meaningless now. I needed Tex to understand the gravity of the situation.

  As hard as it was, Tex was right, I had to calm down and think, but for the life of me I couldn’t stop picturing Rayne afraid or hurt. I wiped my free hand over my face and took a deep breath.

  Think, asshole, think. Slow down.

  “Can you make out a cab company and ID number?” I asked.

  “Let me go back and see,” Tex answered. “Yes. The Queen’s Royal Taxi. Number 07301998.”

  “Let me know if you can pick the cab back up. I have to make another call.”

  “Copy that.”

  I disconnected and called Oliver.

  “Miss me already, mate?” His cheerful voice came over the line.

  “I need your help.”

  “Anything.” He quickly sobered, obviously hearing the desperation in my voice.

  13

  Rayne

  My luck had gone from bad to worse.

  I was now completely lost in the middle of nowhere. My travel guide and map were in my purse, which, of course, was in the back of the runaway taxi, along with my identification and credit cards. Thank God, my passport was at the hotel, locked in the safe, or I’d be stuck there. Blocks and blocks of factories with tall chain-link fences surrounding the buildings. I screamed for help, hoping someone would hear me, but to no avail. The buildings were too far from the road.

  I wanted Ghost. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be cuddled up next to him in our bed, relaxing. Maybe traveling overseas was no longer in the cards for me. And my stomach was screaming at me for food. I wished I’d had more than a pastry for breakfast. Ghost had complained I wasn’t eating enough, however morning sickness seemed to be setting in and the thought of more than a small croissant had made me want to hurl. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining yet. The sky had started to cloud over, and I was waiting to be dumped on at any moment.

  I looked around, trying to find any landmark in the skyline, but there was nothing. I couldn’t even see the London Eye from where I was. I was completely turned around and all I knew was the sun was no longer directly overhead and had started to fall to the west. Not even that little piece of information helped me because I didn’t know what damn direction the hotel was in. I wished Ghost were there. He could’ve steered us back to the hotel using his super-supreme navigational skills.

  Oh my god, Ghost!

  He had to be out of
his mind; it’d been hours. Was he still wandering around the Tower trying to pick me out of the crowd?

  A black town car drove by, and I wondered how dangerous hitchhiking in London was. It was the first car I’d seen in over a half hour. As the car passed by, I thought better of it. With my luck, the driver would be scarier than the cabbie. No way was I flagging down a car. Ghost was already going to kill me. I’d known better than to leave the security of the shop. Not only was I a seasoned traveler, but Ghost and Chase had preached about personal safety and situational awareness over the years—neither of which I used. The barrette Chase had given me and had saved my life back in Egypt wouldn’t be any use now…not that I was even wearing it. I had no excuse, but self-recrimination wouldn’t help me find a phone. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  I had very few options at that point, none were good, but they were all I had. Find my way back to the main road and locate a business, or wait until the workday ended and people started exiting the gates. The cabbie had also driven through a residential area; maybe I could knock on doors until someone opened and let me use their phone.

  Setting out in a new direction, I was determined to find help—and Ghost.

  I rounded a corner and wanted to scream in frustration, industrial buildings as far as the eye could see. I stood on the corner, debating turning back, trying to retrace my steps for the third time when the town car slowly passed again, rolling to a stop not too far from me. A man stepped from the driver’s side door and called out to me.

  Shit. What would Ghost tell me to do? What would Chase say? Run! Never get into a car with a stranger. That was exactly what they’d tell me.

  I turned and at the risk of looking like a crazy woman, I started to jog away from the car. I only made it halfway down the block when the car turned around and followed me.

  Panic started to set in, and I looked for someplace to hide. I flashed back to Egypt and the dirty mattress I’d been tied to. My wrists started to itch at the memory and sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my face. I could taste the saltiness as I licked my now dry lips. Or were those tears? Between the lack of food, water, and my racing heart, my head started to swim. I couldn’t let the man catch me. I wouldn’t survive being hurt. Ghost would never recover. I had to keep running.

 

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