Behind Closed Doors (The Mccloud Series Book 1)

by Shannon McKenna

  Raine gritted her teeth and made a choked, growling sound deep in her throat. She was not a sniveling coward. She would not go out like this. She was a Lazar. She hadn’t come so far and tried so hard to end up a pathetic victim. She struggled to her feet and seized the brass lamp from the top, so the weighted pedestal would serve as a club.

  Monster man was going to have to fight for her blood.

  The bathroom doorknob turned, rattled. Her lips curled back in a silent snarl. She raised the lamp high in her shaking hands and waited.

  She had to make this split second count. She stifled a whimper as monster man rammed his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, with a grunt and a muffled obscenity. That was a relief. At least he was mortal, not some demon from the beyond. The monster of the Corazon.

  Smash, crunch. He burst in, a huge, black-clad figure.

  She swung the lamp down with all her strength. He spun around and parried the blow with his forearm, howling with fury. He slammed her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. She struggled to draw air into her flattened lungs, clawing at the mask that hid his face.

  “Fucking bitch,” he hissed. His bloodshot dark eyes glared through the eyeholes at her. He stunned her with a sharp backhand blow across the face. With the first gasp she managed to draw, his smell hit her. Old sweat, liquor…and fear.

  The smell of liquor made her think of her father. Uncle, her brain corrected, inanely. What a ridiculous thought at such a time. She gasped for breath. “Why?” she croaked.

  “Shut up.” He seized her by the neck of her sweater and spun her around, twisting her wrists up with a painful wrench. He smacked her, face first, against the wall. She felt a bursting, the warmth of blood running from her nose. Then pain. Everything went black.

  Seth chambered the round as he bolted for the front door. Locked, of course. Panic was making him stupid. He cursed the lost seconds as he fumbled with the keys Raine had given him. He threw open the door and tore through the foyer, the SIG ready in his hand. He stopped dead at the foot of the stairs, staring up. Time slowed, to a frozen tableau.

  A big man in a ski mask was poised at the top of the stairs, gun in hand, holding Raine in front of him. Her eyes were closed, blood was running from her nose, but she was alive. On her feet, and blocking his line of fire.

  Ski Mask stared down. Seth stared up. Each waited for the other to turn over a new card.

  The world exploded into movement. Ski Mask shoved Raine ahead of him down the stairs. She bounced against the wall, tried to get her balance, toppled and fell. Seth leaped to catch her with a shout. Her weight and momentum carried them down, and they crashed against the newel post, bringing it and a chunk of banister down with them. Raine landed on top of him, bounced and rolled.

  Ski Mask leaped right past them, burst through the swinging doors into the kitchen and ran out the garage.

  The hunting frenzy inside him screamed for him to give chase, but when he rolled up onto his knees, he saw Raine lying very still on the carpet, the blood on her face hideously bright against her pallor.

  He forgot about Ski Mask, about Lazar, Novak, Jesse, everything. Panic wiped his mind clean.

  He felt for her pulse, and almost wept in relief when he found one. Strong and steady. He moved his trembling hands gently over her body, feeling for injuries. He understood, with all the raw energy of fear, how precious and unique she was. That what he valued about her had nothing to do with beauty, or with sex, or power. And everything to do with that bright place in his mind that she inhabited; that encompassed the tiny baby she once had been, the beautiful old lady she would someday be. If he had anything to say about it.

  Seth’s heart swelled and ached as he ran his hands over her, repeating her name, his voice rough with entreaty while an incoherent litany repeated in his mind: please wake up, please be all right, please don’t leave me alone now that I know the truth, please….

  Her eyelids fluttered. They opened, dazed. She focused on him with difficulty. Tried to smile.

  He sagged over her like a puppet with cut strings and pressed his face against her chest. Her arms moved. She draped them over his shoulders. Cold fingers patted his hair. He tried not to burst into tears.

  He got the number wrong the first six times he dialed it. He needed a drink, to chill him just enough so he could make his big fingers hit the right goddamn buttons on the goddamn microscopic phone. His arm was swelling. The spiteful bitch had given him a wicked crack with that lamp. She was more like Alix than he’d thought.

  God, what a fuck-up. He could have shot the girl’s lover. Or controlled him by using her as a hostage. There were a million things he could’ve done, if he’d had the brains and the guts for them.

  He finally got the number right, and the ring sent a fresh wave of dread through him. His stomach cramped and burned.

  The phone line clicked open. “Yes?”

  “Ah—there’s been a problem,” he stammered. “But if you’d just give me a little time to fix it—”

  “What happened?” The very gentleness of Novak’s voice made chills crawl across Riggs’s sweating back.

  “Her, uh, boyfriend got in the way, and I—”

  “I am very disappointed, Edward. I chose you for this job for artistic reasons, not practical ones. To have her father’s murderer be the one who brings her to me—the theatricality of it appealed to me. Now I regret having been so fanciful. I regret it very much.”

  “No, no, please. I swear, I have the situation under control.”

  “I thought that even a pathetic failure such as yourself would be able to handle such a simple task.”

  Riggs squeezed his eyes shut. “The guy just appeared in her house, out of nowhere. There was no way to get her out of there without killing him, and I thought—”

  “Ask me how much I care if you are forced to kill someone, Edward. Go on. Ask me.”

  “Please, let me try again,” he pleaded. “I’ve still got her on the monitor. They’re not moving yet. I’ve got her cold. I swear to God.”

  “And her lover? Are you equal to the task?”

  Riggs tried to swallow, but his throat just bumped, dusty and dry and thick. He thought of the death that had looked up at him in those glittering black eyes, waiting for him to make a wrong move. The gun, held easily in his hand, the loose-limbed crouch of a trained fighter.

  And him, his gut burning like a bed of barbecue coals, his liver shot, no luck left in him at all. Oh, God, Erin. He let his breath out heavily. “The guy’s a professional,” he admitted. “Either I kill him, or he’ll kill me. It’s a fifty-fifty call.”

  And that was a hopeful estimate, he thought.

  Novak was silent. A minute ticked by, then another.

  “Follow them if they move,” he ordered. “I will now give you the number of a certain person. You will call him to communicate your location. You will rendezvous with him. You will lead him to the girl, and you will keep out of his way and let him do his job. Understood?”

  “Yes,” he muttered. “And—and—”

  “What? Speak up, man.”

  “Erin,” he said desperately.

  “Oh. The hammer need not fall just yet. Georg is being a perfect gentleman. A maiden’s fondest dream. Here is the number. Are you paying attention?”

  “Yeah.” Riggs wrote down the number that Novak dictated.

  “And Edward?”

  “What?” He held his breath, clutching the wheel. “What?”

  Novak chuckled softly. “Try to relax.”

  Riggs’s arm went slack, the phone dropping out of his stiff fingers. He touched his arm. It throbbed. It hurt like a bastard, but pain didn’t matter. Only Erin mattered. If he could salvage her from the wreck of his life, that would be enough. That would be all he asked. As the hours went by, he asked less and less of life. Run, run, run, ruined old rat. He closed his eyes, and thought of Erin’s sweet smile.

  Don’t be an idiot, honey. You might be all on your own with the
devil tonight. God help you, please help you. Even if he can’t help me.

  Raine laughed at Seth’s queasy expression and tried to pull the washcloth out of his hands. “It’s not as gory as it looks.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not looking at it.” Seth yanked the washcloth back and dabbed at her face, looking greenish. “Weird. I’ve seen plenty of blood, and I’ve never been bothered by it before.”

  “Give me that.” She seized the rag and finished the job, then flung the grisly looking cloth into the garbage. She looped her arms around his waist and lay her head against his chest. “Thanks for galloping to my rescue. My white knight.” She turned her head quickly as his arms tightened. “Careful of the nose, please.”

  “Sorry. God, Raine. You scared me so bad,” he muttered.

  She pressed her cheek against the slippery cold leather of his jacket. “I’m sorry about my tantrum,” she said. “You get to say I-told-you-so for the rest of your life, if you want.”

  “Yeah, and you better believe I’ll milk it to the bitter end.” He tilted her face up and glared into her eyes. “Better not even get me started on that. I’ll just get pissed off all over again.”

  “Fair enough, fair enough,” she said hastily. “Let’s change the subject. Like, how can I tell if my nose is broken?”

  That worked like a charm, to her relief. His glare faded. He reached out to touch her nose, very gently.

  “Ow! Careful,” she snapped.

  “Not broken,” he said with conviction.

  “How do you know?” She touched it, frowning. “It hurts like hell.”

  “Mine’s been broken three times. Believe me, I know,” he assured her. “You’re going to have two black eyes, though.”

  She winced. “Ick.”

  “Could have been worse. Let’s get you to an emergency room.”

  She blinked. “Why?”

  He snorted. “Hello! Raine, you’re the one who just got attacked by a guy in a ski mask and thrown down the stairs!”

  “Where I landed conveniently on top of you.” She rose up on tiptoes to kiss his jaw. “I’m OK. Just shaky. And I have a sore nose.”

  He studied her face with troubled eyes. ‘You seem awfully calm.”

  “I know. Probably it just hasn’t hit me yet. I’ll fall apart later for sure.” She stroked his jaw, running her fingers over the small muscle that pulsed there. “It can hit me whenever it wants, as long as you’re with me. Don’t leave me alone tonight, Seth. You make me feel strong enough to face anything.”

  He grabbed her hand, and kissed it. “No way. Not tonight, or any other night. Not in this lifetime. I cannot believe how close that was.”

  The tremor in his voice moved her, almost to shivering tears. She fought them back, still petting his tense face. “It’s strange,” she said. “I don’t think he meant to kill me. He didn’t hurt me all that much, even when I whacked him with the lamp. He knocked the wind out of me, slapped me, and bonked my nose against the wall. That’s it.”

  “That was enough,” Seth growled. “And don’t forget, he threw you headfirst down a flight of stairs. You could have broken your neck.”

  “If you hadn’t caught me. He knew you would catch me.”

  He grunted, unimpressed. “And your point is?”

  “No point,” she said thoughtfully. “Just details. Like the fact that he was afraid.”

  “Huh?”

  “I could smell it,” she explained. “He was scared to death.”

  Seth looked doubtful. “Of you?”

  She made a dismissive gesture with her shoulders. “I doubt it. But he was afraid of something.”

  Seth kissed the top of her head. “He’s going to have to have a damn good reason to be afraid when I get my hands on him. Let’s get out of here. We’ve hung around too long as it is.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her out the front door.

  “Put me down, Seth. Don’t be ridiculous. I can walk.”

  “Stop wiggling.” He deposited her in the passenger side, and stared up and down the street, as if he were smelling the wind. He got into the car and started it up.

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” she asked tentatively.

  “Police? Sweetheart, do you feel like spending the rest of the night explaining to the nice officer what you’ve been up to lately? And the many possible reasons why a hit man might have just paid you a visit?”

  “I see your point.” She stared down into her lap. “Not really, I guess. So you think that man…is connected with what’s going on?”

  He shot her an eloquent look.

  Raine twisted her hands together, feeling foolish. “I would never have thought that Victor would hurt me,” she said softly.

  Seth let out a grunt of derision. “Are you sure he didn’t see you plant that thing?”

  “Don’t condescend to me,” she snapped. “I’ve had a bad night.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” he retorted. “One thing’s for sure, though, sweetheart. You don’t need any help from me in hunting down the ghosts from your past. They’re saving you the trouble. Stand still for fifteen minutes, and they’ll be right on your ass.”

  Chapter 22

  He had to assume that the car had been compromised. Time to ditch it and get a clean one. His bag hadn’t been out of his sight since the day before, likewise his clothing. Raine had to get rid of every stitch of clothing that Lazar had provided, and they could look for someplace to hide and rest. He stared at highway signs, trying to orient himself. He saw signs for a mall, and flicked on the turn signal.

  “Seth, how did you know that guy was in my house?”

  He’d been dreading that question. He shook his head, considering and abandoning various lies and prevarications.

  She waited. “You planted your spy stuff in my house, didn’t you?”

  Her still, quiet voice revealed nothing. That made him extremely nervous. He let his breath out slowly. “Yes,” he admitted.

  “Why?”

  He turned off onto the strip mall that led to the neon signs for the mall, noting with relief that there was a car dealership right down the road. “It had nothing to do with you at first,” he said reluctantly. “Victor’s mistress was the previous occupant of your house. We were watching her. Then she disappeared, and you showed up.”

  “And you watched me,” she finished.

  “Yeah.” He pulled into a parking space and cut the motor. “I watched you. After a while, I couldn’t stop watching you. Not if you’d put a gun to my head. I don’t regret it, and I won’t apologize for it.”

  He braced himself to withstand fury and outrage, but none was forthcoming. When he dared to peek, she was gazing out at the Home Depot across the parking lot, her face misty and perplexed. She turned to him with worried eyes. “Have other people seen us make love?”

  “No way,” he said emphatically. “I saw to it.”

  She looked down. “That’s good. I wouldn’t like that at all.”

  “Me neither.” He reached for her hand. “What’s mine is mine.”

  She looked down at her slender wrist, engulfed in his big hand. A laugh exploded out of her. “Conan the Conqueror,” she murmured.

  He shrugged and just sat there, holding her hand in the dark for forty or so precious seconds that they could not afford to waste.

  Her fingers wiggled inside his. “I’ve told you everything, Seth. It’s time for you to lay your cards on the table, too.”

  “Truth time has to wait. We’ve got to shake off your ghosts.”

  Her eyes widened. “You think we’re being pursued?”

  “Let’s just say we should definitely cover our asses.”

  She bit her lip and stared down at their clasped hands. “Do you promise me that once we get somewhere safe, you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

  “I promise,” he said rashly, popping the locks open. “Let’s go.”

  They ran hand in hand through the rain to the nearest clothing store.
He flagged down the first salesgirl he saw. “We’re in a serious hurry. Bring us a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a wool sweater, underwear, socks, hiking boots, and a winter coat. Size six. Quick.”

  The girl took one look at Seth’s blazing eyes and Raine’s gory, bloodstained sweater. Her jaw went slack with alarm. “Don’t you, uh, wanna pick the stuff out yourselves?” she faltered. “Colors, and stuff?”

  “No time!” he barked. “Move it!”

  She backed away. “Um…lemme call the manager.”

  “Never mind.” Raine cast an irritated look at Seth. “I’ll pick them out, but stick close so you can ring them up right away, OK?”

  A flurry ensued, of grabbing things off the rack, checking labels in breathless haste. Then he spotted the underwear bin. He grabbed a random handful of thong panties. See-through lace, in awesome, lurid colors. Black, hot pink, purple, lime green, lipstick red. He flung them on the counter. “Put these on the tab.”

  “Those are thongs,” Raine said, blushing.

  He leered at her. “Yum.”

  Raine was busy struggling into a navy blue parka when he spotted the nightie. It was a peachy color in a clingy knit that would hit her just above mid-thigh and show off every curve and hollow. And it would peel off. Stretchy, just like he’d always wanted.

  He yanked it off the hanger and flung it onto the pile in the salesgirl’s arms. “Ring that up, too. Hurry up.”

  “Yes, before he finds something else he likes,” Raine snapped.

  He paid out of his thick wad of emergency cash. As soon as they were back inside the Toyota, he was yanking clothes out of the bags and biting off the plastic label tabs. “Off with your clothes, babe. Quick.”

  Raine looked at the cars driving past, and back at him, appalled. “Right here?”

  “Every stitch. I can feel them breathing down our necks.”

  She hesitated, looking bewildered. He grunted and yanked open the sash of her trench coat.

  That jolted her into action. “No, no, I’ll do it.” She tugged her boots off with a wistful sigh. “These boots were so beautiful.”