Here Comes the Rainne Again

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  The snow ate at Alastair. It chipped away at his resolve, making him wonder what he was doing outside instead of staying tucked up in the warmth with Rainne. The pain in his side was a consistent dull reminder that he was one strike away from a punctured lung. His swollen wrist shot jagged spikes of pain through his body each time he moved it in the wrong way. His head throbbed with every step. His throat burned with each icy breath he sucked in. Yet through it all, he could only think about the taste of Rainne on his lips and warm comfort of her hand in his.

  It felt right. Like he’d been missing a limb for three years and now it was back.

  20

  * Joe *

  “It’s not what you think.” Caroline stared into the dumb waiter from her spot beside Joe.

  “I think it’s a life-sized rubber doll that looks suspiciously like Josh McInnes,” Joe said.

  “And it’s holding a box of illegal fireworks,” Jena felt the need to point out. “Was the doll made in Japan? It looks like it was. They’re experts at getting the face that lifelike.”

  All eyes turned to Jena.

  “How on earth would you know that?” Abby asked her best friend.

  “It’s amazing what you learn working the nightclubs in Atlantic City. I know about stuff that would curl your toes.”

  “Josh promised me he wouldn’t buy any of those fireworks. They’re dangerous. People have lost limbs using them.” Caroline was clearly outraged.

  “Really?” Shona said. “You’re worried about the fireworks and not about the sex doll?”

  “It’s not a s-sex doll.” Caroline’s face turned burgundy. “It was a joke gift. From Mitch.”

  “I don’t see how it’s funny,” Kirsty’s mum said as she stared at plastic Josh.

  Caroline’s shoulders went back, a sure sign someone was going to get a lecture.

  “Mitch bought it for Josh years ago. He said Josh would never find a wife because he was already in love with himself. He told Josh this doll could solve all his problems, as he could take himself to bed.”

  “That is kind of funny,” Heather said with a grin. “And smart.”

  “Is it anatomically correct?” Jena asked, and again all eyes turned to her. She shrugged. “It’s a sex doll. Top of the line, custom made. It should have all its bits.”

  “I need to check.” Shona reached for the doll.

  “No.” Caroline shoved herself between the women and the doll. “Hands off. That’s my husband we’re talking about. No one is seeing his private parts.”

  “Technically, that isn’t your husband,” Abby said. “It’s a toy.”

  “A sex toy,” Jena said, entertaining herself.

  “Do you have three-ways with the doll and Josh?” Shona asked.

  “Ooooh, no!” Caroline’s horror was clear.

  “Still, you can’t tell me that the first thing you did when you saw it was pull down his pants to compare?” Jean inched towards the doll.

  Caroline went into prim mode. Her back was ramrod straight. “I have never taken the clothes off the doll. If it was up to me it would be in the bin, but it has sentimental value for Josh.”

  “Are you sure that’s the only kind of value it has for him?” Shona asked.

  “I think this is taking narcissism a bit too far,” Margaret said. “I worry about that boy.”

  “It was a gift.” Caroline was clearly irritated now. “One he didn’t ask for. One he doesn’t play with. And no one is taking the trousers off the doll. Don’t think I can’t see you sneaking towards him, Jean.” She put her hand up to stop the woman.

  “Killjoy,” the older woman muttered before backing off.

  “Him?” Jena asked with a smirk.

  “It! I mean it.” Caroline looked like she was going to explode.

  “Why is it in the dumb waiter?” Jena asked.

  “Josh didn’t want to store it in the cellar with everything else, and I didn’t want it in the bedroom. This was a compromise.” She sighed. “I was kind of hoping it’d fall down the shaft and I’d never see it again.”

  Kirsty came up to put her arm around Caroline. “Stop teasing her. She’s with child and shouldn’t be stressed.”

  As one, the women looked contrite.

  “Quite right,” Kirsty’s mum said. “We’re sorry, Caroline. I’d hate it if someone went poking around in my bedroom cupboards.”

  “Why?” Shona asked. “What you got hidden in there?”

  “Please!” Kirsty held up her hands to stop her mother. “If you love your only daughter even a little, please don’t answer that.”

  The grin on Margaret’s face was mischievous. “I love you very much. These lips are sealed.”

  “You’ll tell us later?” Shona said.

  Her mum tried to nod without Kirsty seeing her. Kirsty just groaned.

  “Okay.” Joe took charge again, now that the shock of finding the doll had worn off. “If you lot are finished ogling fake Josh, let’s get the dumb waiter sealed up.”

  “It doesn’t work anyway,” Caroline said.

  “Yeah, but it’s an access point and I want it sealed.”

  “Wait!” Heather said. “Take the doll out first. We might need him. And grab those fireworks. They’re weapons.” She grinned with glee at her friends. One by one, the eyes of the women of Knit Or Die went wide.

  “We can fire them at the intruders,” Margaret said with awe.

  “That’s much better than balloons,” Shona said.

  “This is going to be great. You heard Caroline,” Jean said. “These babies take off limbs.”

  Margaret grabbed the box of fireworks and headed to the corner of the room, followed by her cronies. Heather tucked the Josh doll under her arm.

  “Put the doll back. There’s no reason to remove him from the cupboard,” Caroline said on a groan.

  “We might need a decoy.” Heather held the doll tighter. “I like the tux. Was it one of Josh’s?”

  “Can somebody bring the doll in here?” the prisoner shouted from the bathroom. “I want to see it too.”

  “No,” everybody in the room shouted back.

  Then there was a crash outside the bedroom door, a shout and the sound of a gun going off.

  The women screamed. The doll was forgotten.

  “Get that dumb waiter barricaded now,” Joe snapped.

  Ryan pulled a heavy wooden dresser over in front of it.

  “Are they trying to shoot their way in?” Jean asked in a tremulous voice.

  “No.” Heather grinned. “Sounded like someone slid on the olive oil, fell and their gun went off. Here’s hoping the bullet ricocheted off the wall and embedded in his head.”

  “Wow,” Jena said. “Bloodthirsty. I like it.”

  Then there was a thud at the door and the barricade shook.

  “Windows,” Joe said. “Shut them. Lock them. Block them.”

  “But we need space to shoot the fireworks out,” Margaret shouted.

  “No time. Security first. Firing back later.” Hopefully never.

  The women rushed to carry out his order as the door thudded again.

  21

  * Rainne and Alastair *

  “I see the snowmobiles,” Alastair said.

  The words were muffled by the hood of Rainne’s jacket. She struggled out from behind his large frame, which he’d been using to block the wind from her, and spotted the snowmobiles immediately. One of them had been left with its headlights on.

  “That’s going to waste the battery,” Rainne muttered.

  Alastair tugged her behind a thin tree that did little to hide them, but fortunately the black night and thick falling snow made up for its shortcomings.

  “I don’t see anyone.” Alastair spoke close to her ear, his breath warm against her cheek, making her shiver.

  Her lips still tingled from his unexpected kiss. Although she knew it wasn’t wise, she couldn’t stop a little seed of hope from planting in her soul. She knew now, after hearing the story abo
ut his mother, that there was very little hope of a reunion with her boy. How could he trust her again? Life had taught him that people you love left. There was absolutely nothing she could do to reassure him it wouldn’t happen again. Only he could deal with his fears. Only he could make the choice to take a chance on being hurt again. Rejected again. And she didn’t think he’d be able to do it. His fears were too ingrained. And she was partly to blame for that.

  “I think it’s safe to go to the snowmobiles. I think the bad guys are in the castle. I’ll take the one on the left,” Alastair said. “You take the other one. Remember what I told you. You need to get the cloth wet with petrol before you wedge it back into the tank, otherwise it won’t light. Not in this weather.” He put his hand under her chin to angle her face up to his. For a second Rainne thought he was going to kiss her again, and her heart actually stopped beating. But he didn’t. “Don’t take any chances, Rainbow. First sign of trouble, run.”

  Hearing him call her Rainbow again shot little sparks of warmth through her chilled body. “Not without you.”

  “No, Rainbow. You run with or without me. Don’t put yourself in danger. I can take care of myself.”

  Yeah, that was why his face was grey and he was swaying on his feet.

  “I hear you,” she said, and hoped he took that as her agreement to do as she was told.

  He must have been feeling worse than he looked, because he seemed relieved at her answer and didn’t question it further.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Rainne took a deep breath and told herself to be positive. What could go wrong? Really? She had plenty of good karma stored. Oh, yeah, wait. She didn’t believe in karma anymore. Or stones that emitted good luck. Or auras. Actually, since she’d turned her back on her hippy upbringing, her life had simplified immensely.

  “Keep low,” Alastair ordered. “Let’s go.”

  He took her hand again and pulled her towards the snowmobiles. She tried to keep her eyes wide open and her mind alert. Adrenalin and fear helped keep her focused. She eyed each shadow, wondering if someone lurked there, watching and waiting. Really, what would she do if someone did step out and confront them? Her only valid option was to run screaming. In this snow, she wouldn’t get very far. And no matter what Alastair might think, there was no way she would leave him to confront the intruders alone.

  Stop freaking out. There are no men hiding in the bushes. Nobody is daft enough to hang around out here in this weather.

  As pep talks went, it wouldn’t win any awards, but it made her feel better. As they reached the snowmobiles, they separated. Alastair gave her hand one last squeeze, and she felt suddenly weak without him holding her. His strength, even when injured, was enough to take away the bulk of her fear. Without it, she found herself hesitant and trembling.

  Each step through the snow was laborious. Each breath she sucked through the wet wool of her scarf hurt her lungs. But she kept on going. She had to. Her friends and family were in the castle. And Alastair needed her—whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  She found the petrol tank cap where Alastair said it would be and unscrewed it. She pulled the zip down on her padded coat and reached inside for the strips of cloth. But she couldn’t distinguish them with her gloves on, so they had to go. She pulled them off and stuffed them in her pockets, instantly feeling the bite of cold on her already chilled fingers. She took the fabric, twisted it to make it easier to get into the tank and then fed it through the opening. It took two attempts to get it wet enough to light. She threaded it back into the tank, leaving the petrol-soaked end hanging out, ready to be lit.

  Her fingers were numb from the cold. It made holding the tiny matches difficult. She fumbled with them as she tried to get one ready to strike. A gunshot went off inside the castle. Rainne jumped. The matches fell to the snow.

  No. No. No.

  Rainne fell to her knees, scanning the dirty snow for tiny pieces of wood and seeing nothing. She ran her fingers over the surface of the snow, but they were too numb to sense anything.

  It’s okay. It’s going to be fine. Just stay calm.

  She cupped her hands in front of her mouth and breathed warm air onto them.

  Loud thuds came from the castle. Screams followed. Rainne’s heart pounded so fast and hard it made her dizzy.

  Breathe slowly. Don’t panic. Get the matches. Focus.

  She spotted the faint outline of a match and pounced on it. There were two more beside it. She scrambled to her feet. Okay. She could do this. The rag was still poking out of the tank.

  Okay. Okay. Slow. Steady. Think.

  But her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. They trembled and shook. They wouldn’t bend properly, stiff with cold. She struck the match repeatedly against the rough piece of card. Nothing. She let it fall and tried the second one. The same result. Rainne blinked back pointless tears of frustration.

  Light, damn it. Light!

  She spotted Alastair heading her way. They’d talked about this. He was supposed to head to the tree line once his machine was lit. He staggered in the snow, corrected his aim and continued towards her.

  More thuds came from inside the castle. Shouting followed.

  Hurry. Hurry.

  Rainne reached for the last match.

  Make it work. Please make it work.

  She sobbed with frustration as the second attempt to light the match failed. They were just too wet. Alastair ran towards her. No. He had to go. He had to run.

  “No,” she told him, although there was no way he could possibly hear her.

  Her head fell forward. Heavy with an overwhelming sense of failure.

  She opened her eyes, and that was when she saw it. A dry match, snagged on her woollen scarf. With no thought other than to get the job done, she snatched it out of the wool, struck it and held her breath. The second strike and it was alight. With a stupid, grateful grin, she set the match to the petrol-soaked rag and watched it catch light.

  She wanted to whoop.

  “Run,” Alastair shouted, no longer caring about the noise.

  “You run,” she shouted back.

  She turned from the machine and ran as fast as she could through knee-deep snow. Which wasn’t fast enough.

  “Run, Rainbow!” Alastair was at her side, slowing to stay with her.

  “No. Don’t wait for me. Go!”

  The stupid, stubborn man didn’t listen. Instead he grabbed her hand in his good one and yanked her forward.

  And that was when the first machine exploded. The second explosion followed quickly. The force took Rainne off her feet and propelled her forward.

  She saw shadows flying towards her.

  And then she saw nothing at all.

  22

  * Megan *

  The windows were barricaded using the rest of Caroline’s heavy antique bedroom furniture. Fake Josh stood in the corner watching over them as they sealed the room. The floor was now empty, all of the furniture pressed against the walls, blocking windows and doors. Candles flickered, dotted at random spots on the floor. The women sat on the carpet, leaning against the walls. Nobody smiled. Nobody joked. As one, they jumped with each thud that came from the hallway outside the room.

  There was no sign of Claire, or Lake and his men. Megan’s stomach was tight with worry about her sister. She shouldn’t have let her go into town alone. What if she was lying somewhere dying in the snow? No. She couldn’t think like that. Megan eyed the captive as he sat quietly in the bath. She should have left him in the snow and gone with Claire.

  “Identical twins, huh?” the captive said.

  Megan’s eyes shot to his. “How do you know about my sister?”

  He shrugged. How he managed to look relaxed while tied up to a metal shower rod, she didn’t know. “Been in town a while.”

  Her stomach roiled. “Watching us?”

  His expression was unreadable. “Watching everyone, Buffy.”

  She ignored the name. No doubt he mea
nt it as an insult. But Buffy was a superhero with cool powers who could kick the backside of any guy. As insults went, it was pretty pathetic.

  “Want to tell me why you’ve been skulking around spying on everyone?”

  “No.” His grin did strange things to her insides. It made her equal parts breathless and annoyed.

  “Aye, didn’t think so.”

  He really sucked as a prisoner. No doubt he would tell her something if she removed his fingernails, but the thought of harming him while he was defenceless turned her stomach. She took solace in the fact Buffy never tortured anyone either. It was beneath her. What she needed was a pet vampire. She was pretty sure Buffy got Spike to do her dirty work. Her captive would have cracked under the attention of the vampire in leather.

  “I’d pay to know what you’re thinking right now,” the guy said, bringing her attention back to him.

  She frowned at him. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  “Yeah,” he grinned again. “I think I do. You zone out all the time, then get this scary look on your face. Makes a man wonder what’s going on that head of yours, blondie.”

  “Right now I’m wondering if I have the guts to remove your fingernails to get you to talk.”

  Of course, he laughed. Megan ignored him and studied the pristine white tiled walls. There wasn’t much else to look at. There were no windows in the bathroom, and she’d already snooped through the cabinets and the large antique armoire. All she’d discovered was that Josh had way more aftershave than one man reasonably needed.

  “Any chance I can see the life-sized sex doll?” he said when he’d stopped laughing.

  “Any chance you’ll tell me why you’re here?”

  He shook his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

  “Then I guess we’re both out of luck,” Megan grumbled.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her. She put his age somewhere in the early thirties, but his face had seen some living. It was tanned and lined from too much sun, and there was a small scar bisecting his top lip. Chocolate eyes with golden flecks almost hypnotised when you looked into them, even though they were perpetually amused. His nose was a tad too long, his cheekbones a tad too sharp and his hair was definitely far too short for his face. Basically, it was nothing more than a coating of brown fluff on his skull. Since she’d cut away his shirt, he was only wearing his suede jacket. The chocolate colour made his eyes pop and his shoulders bulge. His bulk would have been intimidating if he wasn’t tied up in a bathtub. Right now, Megan wasn’t thinking about how sexy he would be under different circumstances. She was thinking about her decision to remove his gag. Like every other choice she’d made since coming across the man, it had been the wrong one.