Dying To Be Heard (Book 1): Outcry

by Michiels, Jennifer

  Rayne put the battered Honda in gear and backed out of the parking lot. She had a lot of thinking to do and decisions to make.

  Please let me make the right one.

  Chapter 3

  Rayne sat cross-legged on her ugly navy blue sofa in a pair of flannel pajamas, her long auburn hair hanging down her back in a cascade of gentle waves. Her lap was occupied by the largest bowl of popcorn she’d ever seen, and she constantly defended it from Layla’s stubby fingers.

  "Hey! I thought you didn't want any!" she said, moving the bowl out of reach.

  "Now I do," Layla said stretching her short arms over Rayne to grab some more.

  Two days had passed since the break-in at Karla's and the note left on her car. Originally, she thought it would be a bad idea to share the letter with her friend. It wasn’t as if she had been overly receptive to the idea of going along with police orders. Apparently they weren’t proactive enough for her. Of course, she couldn’t blame her. Had the circumstances been switched, she would have wanted every precaution taken to ensure the safety of her best friend.

  So, she’d broken down and told her. Surprisingly enough, Layla had understood. She'd agreed without hesitation that if she really was in danger, then this could be her only hope. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Rayne had been incredibly surprised, but wasn’t complaining in the least. Layla was all she could depend on in the world, and having her support made all the difference.

  After their discussion, the two had decided that it was definitely time for a girls’ night. Layla showed up a few hours later in her pink silk pajamas that made her round figure look even more so, and they relaxed on the sofa watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory, munching on popcorn and thinking about anything other than her situation.

  Neither of them seemed too keen on dwelling on Rayne’s problem just yet. The time would come when they would have to face the music, one way or another, but for now, they were content just letting it all ride. It was almost as if they were afraid to talk about it, as if it somehow would increase the speed of progression.

  Of course, Rayne couldn’t get it off her mind. It played on repeat, over and over, from the first break-in to every grueling detail of her nightmare. She sighed. She felt a little more at ease not being at home alone, wondering if every little creak and thud was someone coming to get her. Living on the bottom floor with a neighbor above her, well, there were plenty of noises. Needless to say, she'd slept very little, and when she did, it wasn't restful.

  She swatted Layla's hand as it dove into the popcorn again. The pudgy girl cradled the appendage and gave her friend a wounded look. "Don't look at me like that. Get your own popcorn!" Rayne said, laughing.

  Layla rolled her eyes and left the couch, making her way into the kitchen. Rayne shook her head and smiled to herself. She was thankful to have such an amazing friend. It really helped to have someone she knew she could trust by her side during all of the mess she was in. She doubted she would have made it this far without her.

  A knock sounded at the door, startling the both of them. Simultaneously, they looked to the large clock hanging on the dingy white wall next to the television.

  A visitor at nine PM?

  Rayne crossed her fingers and looked over her shoulder. "It's probably just Mrs. Baxter telling us the TV is too loud again," she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She wasn't sure whom she was trying to convince, Layla or herself. She stood and crossed the small room to the door, but paused with her hand on the deadbolt. Slowly, she opened it and peered out.

  There, standing on her front step, was a tall, strong-featured man who could be no older than early thirties. He was well built and lean, with black hair and eyes the brightest shade of blue that she had ever seen. He looked oddly familiar, but she couldn't place him.

  "C...Can I help you?" she asked, swallowing the lump in her suddenly dry throat. She wasn't sure if it was because she was frightened, or the fact that this beautiful stranger made her nervous.

  The man nodded and flashed a devilish grin, allowing her a glimpse of his perfect teeth. He stood straight and erect, but looked so nonchalant all at the same time. The same way he made the plain jeans and black button-up shirt he wore look classy, yet still casual. Her first impression was that he was a walking contradiction.

  "Rayne," he said in a deep voice that sent a shiver down her spine. He continued to smile and attempted to look at something from the corner of his eye without being too obvious.

  Rayne gave him a confused look and shivered against the night air.

  Looking back to her, he spoke through gritted teeth and without moving his lips. It was muddled, but she was able to decipher enough of the words to make sense of it.

  "We are being watched," he said, glancing to his right. "Hug me like an old friend, and invite me in."

  She wanted to slam the door in his face and call 911. He had to be some crazed lunatic. Do crazed lunatics knock? Before she could step back to close the door, the words of the note rang loudly in her ears: I will send someone to get you.

  She raised an eyebrow, trying to decide how she felt about him. He was beautiful, yes. Suspicious? Definitely. But there was something in the pit of her stomach telling her that it was ok.

  By this time, Layla had made her way from the kitchen and was listening intently to the conversation. "Just do it, Rayne!" she whispered hurriedly.

  Rayne hesitated for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she put on her best smile and opened the door wide enough to step out. She wrapped her small arms around his firm midsection, pressing her face against his chest like she would an old friend. He smells like a God!

  Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid he might feel it strumming its rhythm against him. "Oh my gosh! I didn't recognize you!" she said loudly. She surprised herself with how easy the lie came. Maybe she was a better actress than she thought.

  He wrapped his muscular arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. "It's good to see you too, Rayne," he said, continuing their performance.

  She squeezed tighter than was necessary. "If you're lying to me..." she paused and pulled away, but still spoke through clenched teeth and gave him the sweetest smile that she could muster, "I will kill you."

  She stepped back and gestured for him to enter. "Slowly and painfully," she added quietly as he passed.

  He lifted a brow in amusement as he watched her lock the door and then check to make sure the blinds were drawn.

  When she turned back around, she found Layla wielding a large butcher knife at the very amused and gorgeous stranger. It was certainly a sight: Her friend in pink silk pajamas, hunched over ready to strike, and tall, dark, and handsome trying not to laugh.

  Rayne came around to stand behind her friend. "Who are you?" she asked, trying to read his features.

  He pulled his electric blue gaze from the blade to look between the two. "You can put that away. I'm not going to hurt you," he said casually, seeming not the least bit bothered by her weapon.

  "Answer my question!" Rayne spat at him.

  His movements were so quick, neither girl saw him nor knew how it happened. One moment, Layla held the knife in her outstretched hand, ready to thrust at the slightest indication of threat, the next it was captured by the stranger and placed on the small end table near the door. Both their mouths fell open in shock, and they immediately began to back away, placing the couch and the distance of the living room between them.

  The dark-haired man sighed. "My name is Camden Dallas. I'm here to help you." He paused and gestured to the knife. "I told you to put that away."

  Rayne was angry, nervous, and confused. All of that paired with her exhaustion, fear, and stubbornness overrode the logical portion of her brain. She was ready to fight. It took every cell in her body not to lash out at him. Her emotions had made it to the surface and were boiling over. Seeing the way he easily disarmed Layla, she thought better of it.

  He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't
move. It seemed as though that were his only expression.

  There was a moment of awkward silence as the three stared at each other, wondering what the next move should be.

  "Are you the one that left the note on my car?" she asked.

  He nodded and stepped toward the window to peek through the blinds. His movements were so fluid and calculated, as if he'd spent his entire life learning to master every muscle in his body. She was entranced watching the form beneath his black shirt ripple as he turned.

  She unknowingly stepped closer to him, searching the features of his profile as he continued to stare through the glass. He had a strong chin and square jaw, nothing like her dainty traits. Her high cheekbones and slightly upturned nose were from her mother. Could he be from my father's family? "Are we related?" she asked.

  Camden turned back to her and shook his head. "No."

  Now she was really confused. "But you just said you were the one that left the note on my car," she stated with a quizzical look.

  He nodded. "Yes. I left the note." He paused for a moment. "No, I did not write it."

  Rayne put a hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples in an attempt to calm her mind and steady her thoughts. "I've never been so confused in all my life."

  Layla stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I can only imagine how you feel," she said. "My brain hurts, and it's not even happening to me."

  Rayne resisted the urge to comment sarcastically a sarcastic comment and moved around to sit on the edge of the sofa, no longer worried about his intentions. If he'd really been there to hurt her, with moves like his, he already would have done so, and easily. She rested her elbows on her knees and turned her bright green eyes on Camden who moved slightly closer. "Can you just explain to me what the hell is going on?"

  The couch dipped slightly as Layla sat next to her.

  Camden came before the two and pushed the tarnished coffee table back a few feet, scraping some of the polish off the wood floor before sitting on the edge. His expression changed, and he seemed deep in thought. "Everything I am authorized to tell you, you already know."

  “Authorized?” Rayne shook her head. "Just humor me."

  "You are being targeted by someone."

  At this distance, Rayne could see every detail of his face. She knew that her complexion was fair, but his was more than that. It was downright pale.

  She shook her head, coming back to the conversation at hand. "For what?" She searched the room. "What could I possibly have that anyone would want?"

  "That part is best left up to your grandfather."

  Rayne's jaw dropped. She had to have heard him wrong. She held her breath and for what felt like the millionth time in the last few days, her heart skipped a beat. How can that be? He died almost twenty years ago. I went to his funeral and watched them lower him into the ground.

  Camden could see the confusion on her face. He stood and began to pace the length of her living room, which for him was barely two strides. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know everything, including what they wanted her for. But his instructions had been clear.

  Rayne shook her head. She was beginning to get angry. She was tired of being watched and sacrificing her daily life for someone she wasn't even sure existed. Now, to top it all off, her dead grandfather isn’t actually dead.

  This can’t get any worse.

  Her head was reeling and she could feel the room starting to spin. It was suddenly as if she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

  At this point, Layla was taking in everything happening around her. She had been lost from the beginning, but she saw the puzzled, confused, and desperate look on her friend's face. "Ok," Layla said, standing. She smoothed her hands over her silk pajamas as if it really made a difference and turned for the kitchen. "I know what you need."

  Rayne sat silent and motionless, trying to decipher things. "Ok. So let me make sure I have this straight. Someone, I don't know who, is after something, I don't know what, but I supposedly have it." She paused, locking brilliant blue eyes to emerald green before continuing. "I'm in danger, don't know what from, but my grandfather, who has been dead for eighteen years, mind you, is trying to protect me." She wrinkled her face and held up her hands. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this all sounds?"

  Camden smirked. "Martin Slade is very much alive." He shrugged and continued, "Talked to him just a few hours ago."

  Rayne sat up a little straighter and looked at him with wide eyes. "Why don't you call him now so I can talk to him? Give me some proof."

  He stood and shook his head. "I can't. For the same reason I couldn't just call you to arrange all this instead of showing up on your doorstep unannounced. Whoever is watching you has a device that intercepts calls coming and going from any cellular signal within a one-mile radius."

  She was oddly shocked. The fact that she had been followed and watched for who knows how long was no longer a secret, but knowing that her phone calls had been breached as well ignited within her a new kind of anger. That was the last straw. Her nerves were on edge and she didn't want to deal with it anymore. She wanted her life to go back to normal and be done with it.

  She stood and nearly ran toward the front door. She knelt down and began putting on her shoes. She’d finally snapped.

  Within seconds, Camden was between her and the exit. "What are you doing?"

  She tied her shoes and spoke without looking up at him. "I'm going to give this guy a piece of my mind." She secured the knot and determinedly stood to look up at him. The top of her head didn't quite reach his chin, but she didn't let that stop or intimidate her.

  A chuckle escaped his throat. "Oh really?" he asked, and leaned casually against the wooden frame. "So, someone who is maybe five-foot-four and possibly a hundred-and-thirty-five pounds soaking wet is going out there to give a six-two, two-hundred-twenty pound man a piece of her mind?" He laughed and stepped away from the door. "This I’ve got to see."

  Is he making fun of me?

  She clenched her teeth in anger. She didn't care how big or strong he was. She was at her wits end. She looked him in the eye and reached for the doorknob.

  "Wait!" Layla called from the kitchen. "How about we all just calm down and have a seat? We need to talk logical solutions here." She emerged with a bottle of wine and two coffee mugs, handing one to Rayne. "Drink this and just chill out for a minute."

  Rayne shook her head. Is she serious? “There’s a weird guy in my house and another outside. One, possibly both of them, wants to kill me.” Her brows raised in a skeptical look. “Somehow, I just can’t find any reason to think that drinking wine would be a good idea right now.”

  Camden scoffed. “Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you would be.”

  She shot him a glare that dared him to speak again. It was a look that actually made him draw back slightly.

  Huffing a sigh of defeat, she moved back to the couch and let herself fall into it again. They were both right, and she knew it. She was nothing more than a sitting duck. Even if she did go out there, she'd probably be shot before she even made it off the doorstep.

  She held the mug in her hand and looked inside at the deep red liquid as Layla filled it up. "It's not like you're getting drunk," she retorted.

  What was she doing? She had never been in a situation like this before, where she was completely helpless and had no choice. The way she saw it, she could sit there and do nothing, or she could listen to the guy standing by her door. Either could lead to sudden death, so why should it matter what she chose to do?

  She reluctantly took a sip and let the cold, sweet liquid slide down her throat. Closing her eyes, she savored the taste and allowed herself to forget the world around her for just a second. How had everything changed so fast? Two weeks ago, everything had been normal and quiet. Now, her whole world was turned upside down and she was in fear for her life from one second to the next. There was no knowing if she was being watched or followed, or if someone was hiding und
er her bed or in the next room just waiting to strike. She didn't know how much more she could handle at this point.

  Returning to the real world, she opened her eyes to find Camden staring at her. His gaze was so intense, she felt like she could get lost in the deep blue pools. Why is he staring? Do I have something on my face?

  She realized that her throat and mouth were suddenly dry and took another sip to relieve it. Without thinking, her tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of the sweetness that lingered on her lips.

  Camden cleared his throat and suddenly looked away. "Feel better now?" his deep voice rumbled in his throat and threatened to crack near the end.

  She nodded and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees with the mug between both palms. She stared down at it. "You never told us why you are here," she said quietly.

  Camden moved to the television that was still playing on mute. He leaned against the stand nonchalantly. "Your grandfather sent me to get you and bring you to meet him."

  "Tonight?" she asked, slightly shocked.

  He shook his head. "No, we leave tomorrow."

  She nodded and let a new resolve envelop her, a determination that she was going to see this whole thing through. Then again, maybe it was the wine talking. "I would ask where we are going, but like everything else, I'm sure you're not going to tell me, are you?"

  He smirked and crossed his arms over his muscular chest. "You catch on quick."

  Rayne stood, placing the now-empty mug on the table and wiped the moisture from her hands on her flannel pajamas. She looked everywhere but directly at him as she walked towards the door. She didn't like the way his eyes seemed to trace the edges of her soul.

  "I'll pack a bag and be ready tomorrow morning." In somewhat of a daze, she opened the door and gestured for him to leave. Have I snapped? Am I seriously going to do this?

  Camden crossed the room toward her and pushed it closed again. "I'm not going anywhere. My unexpected visit could have made this guy suspicious. We don't know if he will or won't try anything tonight."