Private Eye Protector

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Sounds…cold.”

  “I thought so. He told me to make a choice. Emma or him. I chose Emma.”

  “Good. The guy didn’t deserve either of you.”

  “That’s what my folks said. It’s what my brother and sister-in-law said. It’s what everyone said.”

  “But?”

  “I kept wondering why no one had told me that before. All those years wasted on a guy who wasn’t worth it, and not one person bothered to tell me I was making a mistake.”

  “They wanted you to be happy. He seemed to make you happy. That’s all that mattered to them.”

  He was right. Of course he was.

  Her family and friends had accepted Michael because of her. They’d put up with his arrogance and his busy schedule because she’d said she was happy with him.

  “You’re really good at this, Chance.”

  “What?”

  “Listening. Talking. Saying the right thing.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice. I worked as an army chaplain.”

  “What brought you back here?”

  “My brother and father were killed in a car accident. When they died, I came home to help my mother with the farm and the orchards. Of course, she didn’t need it nearly as much as I’d been imagining.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Two years.”

  “It must have been hard.”

  “Very. I had a lot of regrets. I still do, but you can’t go back, can you?” He offered a quick smile, the pain in his voice palpable.

  “I know about regret, Chance. And I know that living in it doesn’t do any good.” She touched his arm, his muscles tense beneath her palm.

  “I’m not living in it. Most days.” He covered her hand, the gesture becoming something more, seconds ticking by, breath held, waiting for one or the other to pull away.

  Pull away!

  Now!

  She slid her hand from beneath his, warmth lingering as silence filled the SUV, the weight of that one touch heavy on her heart.

  She couldn’t break rule two.

  Couldn’t.

  So why did she want to so badly?

  She scowled, frustrated with herself, with Chance, with Michael. With her whole messed-up life.

  “Need a punching bag?” Chance broke the silence, his words clearing the air, chasing away the warmth of his touch, the heavy weight of broken dreams and secret yearnings. “I’m fine.”

  “Then why do you look like you want to take someone’s head off?”

  Good question.

  How should she answer?

  Because my life is chaos and I don’t know why?

  Because my ex keeps calling, and it reminds me of all the foolish dreams I’d invested in him?

  Because I don’t want to fall for you, but I am?

  “Rayne?” Chance pulled up in front of his mother’s farmhouse, parked the car.

  “As I said, I’m fine.”

  “Is that what you always do?” he asked, shifting so they were face-to-face.

  “What?”

  “Pretend that everything is fine even when it isn’t? You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. You’re exhausted. Your ex is driving you nuts. It’s not a crime to be annoyed.”

  “Good, because you’re really annoying me, too.” She opened the door, shivering as cold air whipped her hair and slapped her bruised cheek.

  “I guess you’re going to tell me why?” Chance asked, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.

  And irresistible.

  But she would not smile, wouldn’t even crack a grin, because that would mean giving in to more of what she felt for him, and she’d already done enough of that.

  “Actually, I’m not.”

  “Then how about I guess?”

  “I’d rather you wouldn’t.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Look, you want the truth? I’ll give it to you.” She swung around to face him, the wind whipping hair into her eyes. “I just dumped my fiancé, and I don’t want another relationship. I don’t even want to tiptoe on the edge of another relationship. When I’m with you, I seem to forget that.”

  There. She’d said it.

  She turned, ready to go into the house, get Emma, bring her up to the apartment. Just the two of them. The way she’d planned it when she’d left Phoenix.

  “Rayne.” He didn’t touch her, didn’t do anything but say her name, but she felt helpless to move away.

  “I have to go in. Emma needs me.”

  “I know, but there’s something I want to say first.” His hands slid up her arms, cupped her shoulders, and everything in her stilled as she looked into his face, saw all that she felt reflected there.

  “Don’t.”

  “Tiptoeing or not, we’re going somewhere together. Wherever we end up, who you are is exactly who I want you to be. No changing. No hiding. No doing anything differently. You being you is plenty.” He skimmed her cheek with his knuckles, and she shivered, turning away, half running, half limping up the porch stairs and into the house.

  Rule number two.

  Broken.

  Only rule number three stood between her and disaster, and there was absolutely no way she was going to break that one.

  She hoped.

  EIGHT

  He’d crossed the line, and he knew it.

  What Chance didn’t know was whether or not he regretted it.

  She’d looked so frustrated and upset that the words had just spilled out. The truth had spilled out, since he’d meant every word. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to handle what might come of it.

  He followed Rayne into the house, let the warmth of home wash over him.

  “You’re back! And none too soon. We’re in for another winter storm tonight. Come sit down and get warm. There’s a fire going in the living room. Chance, maybe you can get one started in Rayne’s apartment before you leave.” His mother walked out of the kitchen, Emma in her arms.

  “It’s okay. I used to camp with my brother when I was little. He taught me how to start a fire.” Rayne responded, her voice tight, and Chance knew Lila noticed.

  Her gaze jumped from Rayne to him and back again. Then she shot him a look he hadn’t seen since he’d broken her favorite vase the summer he turned twelve.

  “I’m innocent, Mom.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to. You’ve perfected the look.”

  “It’s a gift.” She turned her attention to Rayne. “How did the appointment go?”

  “Fine. Aside from bumps and bruises, I’m healthy. My memory should return at some point, but the doctor doesn’t know when.” Rayne took Emma, nuzzling the baby’s red curls. “How was she while I was gone?”

  “A little fussy, but mostly good as gold.”

  “Still fussy? Maybe she’s teething.” Rayne frowned, pressed her lips to Emma’s forehead.

  “It’s possible. Both my boys fussed nonstop when they were teething. Especially Chance. Of course, he was just fussy period.”

  “Not true. I was the most pleasant baby in the world. You’ve told me that a dozen times.”

  “Only because I didn’t want to crush your delicate feelings.” Lila smiled, and Rayne laughed, the tension easing from her face.

  “I’m not sure I think it’s funny.” But he did enjoy hearing Rayne laugh.

  Which was only a small part of the problem he seemed to be having with her.

  “I do,” Rayne responded, carrying Emma into the living room and dropping down into the rocking chair. Despite her laughter, she looked tired, her skin pale beneath the bruises.

  “You’re exhausted, dear. I’ll make you a nice cup of chamomile tea. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. We’ll eat in here. That way, you and Miss Emma don’t have to move.” Lila hurried from the room, and Chance did what he needed to. Not apologize. He wouldn’t apologize for telling the truth. He had to clear the air. Get the conversation moving between them again. There
was too much at stake for anything else.

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Rayne.”

  “I’m too tired to discuss it, so let’s just pretend neither of us said anything and move on, okay?” She rocked Emma, patting her back rhythmically, her gaze on the window and the gray afternoon beyond it.

  “That’s not the way I work.”

  “It’s going to have to be, because I can’t do anything else right now.” She met his eyes, forced a smile.

  “Okay.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. For now.”

  “You make it really difficult, Chance.” Rayne stood, walked to the window, Emma lying against her shoulder.

  “I make what really difficult?”

  “To not break rule number three.”

  “Rule number three?” He joined her at the window.

  “I made three rules after I broke up with Michael. Don’t rely on anyone. No men. Ever. And…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged. “Well, let’s just say I’ve broken the first two rules already. Now I’m nose-diving toward rule three, and I don’t know how to stop myself.”

  “Then maybe you don’t really want to.”

  “Maybe not, but for Emma’s sake I need to. She’s my first priority.”

  “That’s the way it should be.”

  “See? There you go again. Making it difficult. And here I go, talking about this…stuff when I said I didn’t want to. There are so many more important things I need to worry about. Like, who made that phone call last night? Who was in the hospital room with me? Where is Leon?”

  “We’ll figure it all out eventually. How about, for tonight, you let that be enough?”

  “I—” Headlights flashed on the pavement, shimmering in ice and snow, cutting off Rayne’s words before she could finish.

  Chance tensed, watching as the vehicle drove into view. A small pickup. Dark. No license plates.

  “Get down!” he shouted as the driver’s window opened. The driver was briefly visible. Dark hair. No. Not hair. A hood. Eyes.

  Rayne dropped to the floor, shielding Emma’s body, and he tried to shield them both, his body covering theirs as something exploded. Glass shattered and fell like rain, flames shooting up the wall near his head. Emma screaming.

  Rayne coughing.

  Frigid wind and brutal heat. Snow and fire.

  “Move!” Chance grabbed Rayne’s arm, hauled her to her feet, fire climbing up the curtains, eating the wall, smoke filling the room. Emma coughing, gagging, screaming.

  He had to get them out. Get his mother out.

  Then he had to see if the truck driver was still around.

  “Dear God! What happened?” Lila ran into the room, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Into the mudroom. Let’s move!” Chance shouted. No time for explanations. No time for anything but escape.

  He held Rayne’s arm, took his mother’s hand, pulled them through the kitchen and into the mudroom. No smoke there. Yet.

  “Wait here. Both of you. Don’t come out until I give you the okay.” He opened the door, paused when Rayne grabbed his arm.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to make sure the truck driver is gone. If he’s waiting—”

  “You can’t go out there. What if he is waiting?”

  “What are you two talking about? The house is on fire. We can’t stand around arguing!” Lila was as close to panic as Chance had ever seen her, and he squeezed her hand.

  “I’ll explain everything when I get back. Just stay here until I give you an all-clear.” Chance threw the warning over his shoulder as he jogged down the deck steps and raced around the side of the house, the smoke alarm shrieking in his ears, echoing Emma’s panicked screams. Everything faded as he ran into the front yard, saw the empty road.

  No truck. No assailant. Nothing but flames shooting through the porch roof and lighting up the sky.

  Chance dialed 9-1-1 and shouted his mother’s address into his cell phone as he raced back around the house, up the stairs to the mudroom. His mother hovered in the doorway, Emma in her arms.

  “Where’s Rayne?” he shouted above the shrieking smoke alarm and the crying baby.

  “She went back in to call for help. She hasn’t come back out yet. I should have told her not to go. I should—”

  “Take the baby outside. I’ll find her.” He darted past his mother, but she grabbed his arm, stopped him before he could run into the kitchen.

  “Be careful. I can’t lose someone else I love.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute. Whatever you do, don’t come after us. Okay?”

  That was the rule, right?

  Don’t go back in.

  Let the firefighters do the rescuing.

  That was the rule, but he’d been a rule breaker for more years than he’d been a rule follower. Even if he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have waited, wouldn’t have risked Rayne’s life to save his own. He plunged into the smoke-filled kitchen.

  Five steps across the room.

  Through the doorway and into the living room.

  Fire still burning in the fireplace, black smoke pouring in through the broken window, flames crawling up the wall.

  “Rayne!”

  Where was she?

  He coughed, choking on smoke and ash. Took another step, saw movement in the darkness.

  A shadow emerged from the smoke. Someone grabbed his arm.

  “You’re supposed to be outside looking for the bad guy.” Rayne yelled, the words ending on a hacking cough.

  “And you’re supposed to be waiting in the mudroom. Come on.” He dragged her back through the smoke.

  “I had to call for help. The phone in the kitchen didn’t work, so I had to get my cell phone.”

  “I have a phone, and I’ve already called for help.” Cold air cooled his heated skin as he and Rayne stepped outside.

  Fresh air tinged with smoke.

  He inhaled, coughed up a lungful of soot.

  “Thank goodness you’re both okay.” His mother hurried toward them, Emma in her arms, smoke and snow swirling around them.

  “Here,” Rayne said. “I grabbed the diaper bag while I was inside. Let’s get her covered up.” Rayne unzipped the bag, pulled out a blanket and wrapped it around her daughter. Apparently completely oblivious to the fact that she’d put herself in danger for a phone she didn’t need and a diaper bag filled with replaceable things.

  “We need to talk.” He grabbed her hand, tugged her a few feet away from his mother and Emma.

  “You can forget the lecture. I know you think that what I did was stupid.”

  “That wasn’t the word I planned to use.”

  “I guess you’re going to tell me what word you did plan to use?” She stared him down, tendrils of blond hair falling around her pale face, her eyes hot and dark.

  “Foolish. Foolhardy. Rash. Reckless. Take your pick.”

  “Right. Because when you run outside to face down the guy who bombed your mother’s house, it’s heroic. When I run to get a phone to call for help and potentially save your hide, it’s foolish, foolhardy and reckless.”

  “You forgot rash.”

  “This isn’t funny, Chance.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. But I went outside to make sure it was safe for you, Mom and Emma. I wasn’t going after anyone. If you’d done what I asked and stayed inside, you wouldn’t have put both our lives at risk.”

  “We’re both fine. So how about we just agree we both did what we thought we had to and leave it at that.” She stalked away, taking Emma from his mother and hugging her close, blond hair falling over her face and spilling onto the blanket that covered the baby.

  You make it difficult, she’d said.

  She made it difficult, too.

  To keep his distance.

  To pretend he’d be able to turn his back and walk away.

  To act as if he didn’t care more than he should.

  Sirens s
creamed, the sound mixing with the muted wail of the smoke alarm, the whipping wind and Emma’s frantic cries. Poor kid. Scared, cold, tired.

  He put his hand on her back, his fingers brushing Rayne’s. “Is she okay?”

  “I think so.” Her voice shook and tears tracked through the soot that stained her face. “You’re crying.”

  “My eyes are watering.”

  “You’re crying.”

  “Okay. I’m crying. Happy?” She wiped at the tears, smearing black across her cheeks.

  “I’ll never be happy when you’re hurting.” He knew he shouldn’t. Knew it. But he pulled her into his arms anyway, Emma sandwiched between them.

  “Are you both okay? I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was when you went back into the house.” His mother hovered a few feet away, her gaze on the smoke billowing from the roof of the house.

  “Emma and I are fine. How about you, Chance?” Rayne stepped back, not meeting his eyes as she asked the question. Uncomfortable.

  So was he, but he felt helpless to do anything but move in the direction they seemed to be going.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go around front. You guys can sit in my truck. It’ll be warmer in there.”

  “Good idea.” His mother offered a hollow smile, and Chance slid his arm around her waist.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “I know. It’s just…all my memories are in that house.”

  “All your memories are in your heart. Nothing can take them from you,” Chance said quietly.

  “I’m so sorry, Lila. This is all my fault. If you lose everything, I’ll never forgive myself.” Rayne slid her arm around Lila’s shoulders, and they walked, side by side by side into the front yard.

  “How is this your fault, dear? Did you light a match and set my house on fire?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then I don’t want to hear another word about it. Besides, it looks like the fire is dying. There will be smoke damage and water damage, but I think this old place will hold up.” Lila stared at the facade of the house, and Chance had to agree. The fire seemed to be burning itself out, the accumulated snow from the previous day melting from the porch and roof and falling onto the flames.