by Kaylea Cross
With two out, a runner was at second when the hitter pounded a line drive between the right and center fielders. The runner’s base coach waved her on, and she rounded third in a dead sprint for home. Christa had thrown off her helmet and was standing at the plate, directing the first baseman into position for a possible cut-off play. The center fielder hurled the ball into the infield, but it was offline.
“Cut, home,” Christa yelled above the crowd, bracing herself over home plate as her first baseman caught the ball at the top of the pitcher’s circle and whirled to throw it home, the runner only a few strides away and not slowing.
Christa caught the ball and dropped to her knees to block the plate, bracing herself for the inevitable impact. Oh, man, this is going to hurt.
The runner attempted a late slide and barreled into her with a shoulder, sending Christa flying. Her head slammed into the ground, blinding lights exploding before her eyes. She lay flat on her back, gasping to breathe. The ball...Had she managed to hold onto the ball? Voices murmured and blurry faces formed a circle above her.
Rayne shot to his feet. Christa lay unmoving in the dirt, curled on her side while the umpire gestured for the coach and first-aid attendants. The base runner wobbled to her feet and with the help of a teammate limped off toward her dugout, favoring her right leg.
“Oh, God, Chris...” Teryl had one hand over her mouth as the trainer rushed onto the field and bent to speak to Christa, then shook his head at the coach. Rayne’s heart thudded in his chest. That runner had packed one hell of a wallop. How badly had Christa been hurt? The trainer was checking her neck and spine, and when they turned her onto her back, her lips moved. He let out a relieved breath.
“She’s conscious,” he told Teryl.
“Oh, thank God.”
“What the fuck was that?” The guy who’d been yelling comments at Christa throughout the game—presumably her stalker—pounded on the chain link fence behind home plate. “What was that bitch trying to do, kill her?” A chorus of supportive voices added to his tirade. “Yeah, you’d better hide in your dugout, lady.” His face was a mottled red as he screamed at the shaken base runner, huddled amidst her teammates with an ice pack on her knee.
“Sir, that’s enough.” The umpire approached the fence from the other side of the backstop. “We have everything under control.”
“Bullshit! She deliberately ran her down, we all saw it. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ve called the runner out and the inning is over. Any more outbursts like that and you’ll be ejected from the park.”
The guy wasn’t done though. “She should be charged with assault for that stunt. Maybe she needs a taste of her own medicine, huh? Maybe I should show her how it feels to be knocked out.” The crowd gasped.
“That’s it, you’re out of here.” The umpire’s face was crimson as he pointed to the outfield.
Rayne was about to offer assistance in removing the crazed fan when a couple of security guards made their way into the stands and escorted him away. He continued to shout all the way out of the park, while everyone stared at him.
“You were great, Christa, do you hear me? She won’t get away with this,” the guy called out as they dragged him away.
Rayne was definitely concerned now. The guy had serious issues. In the wake of the outburst the park seemed quiet, everyone watching what was going on with Christa. Finally, after an agonizing wait, she struggled to her knees amidst the roar of applause, wiping a smear of blood from her mouth. With a wave of reassurance to the crowd, she allowed her coaches to carry her from the field.
“Oh, man,” Teryl breathed. Rayne followed her to the third base dugout, wondering if Christa would be taken to hospital. He hung back as Teryl made her way to the trainer and then to Christa’s side. She waved him over so he hurried through the dugout, past her milling teammates, and hunkered down beside her and Teryl. She stared up at him with dazed blue eyes.
“Hey,” she said, attempting a smile.
“Hey yourself. You okay?” He studied her face as the trainer ran his hands over her ribs and stomach, glad she didn’t give any indication of pain.
“Yeah. She rang my bell pretty good, though,” she admitted shakily.
“She lost consciousness for a few seconds,” the trainer told him. “She refused to have an ambulance called, but she’s probably concussed and should go to the hospital for an exam.”
“I’m fine,” she protested, her speech slurred from her swollen, bleeding lip. She smiled sheepishly up at Rayne. “At least she was out. It always hurts less if they’re out.”
“Oh, shut up,” Teryl snapped, helping to undo Christa’s shin pads and cleats. “Only you would talk like that when you’re sitting there all smashed to hell.”
Christa winced. “She just knocked the wind out of me.”
“Whatever,” Teryl huffed, then turned her gaze on him. “I think we should take her to the hospital, just in case.”
“Sure.” He looked Christa in the eye, fighting that tug of awareness in his belly. He was finally getting to touch her, just not the way he’d hoped. “You okay for me to carry you?”
“I can walk—”
“You can’t,” Teryl interrupted and shot Christa a glower before turning to him. “Hutch, this is vintage Christa you’re witnessing. ‘No no, just because I got knocked unconscious, don’t worry about me. I’ll just crawl off somewhere by myself to pass out so I don’t bother anyone.’” She angled another fulminating glare at her best friend and stuffed the last of Christa’s gear into her equipment bag. “C’mon, tough girl, let’s go.”
“I’m fine, really,” Christa insisted.
Rayne reached to scoop her up in his arms and felt her stiffen. He tightened his hold, a primitive part of him thrilling at the curl of her warm body against him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung there, rigid and avoiding eye contact. “I’m not exactly a light weight,” she mumbled.
He smiled down at her dirt-streaked face and started for the parking lot. “To me you are.”
He moved quickly, Teryl dogging his steps and peppering questions at Christa: Are you sure you didn’t break anything? Are you seeing double? Are you nauseated?
“No, but you aren’t helping my headache,” Christa grumbled.
Teryl narrowed her eyes at her but fell silent until they rounded the outer fence. “Oh, and the hits just keep on coming,” she remarked as they came face to face with Christa’s obsessed fan. Rayne catalogued the facial features. Medium height and build, dark blond hair, clean cut. A regular enough kind of guy on the surface, but those were often the ones you had to be wary of.
He caught sight of them, his eyes all for Christa, but when he realized Rayne was carrying her he went still. His expression turned almost blank and he seemed to take a moment to collect himself before he spoke. “Are you all right, Christa?” He trailed after them.
She tensed and pressed tighter to Rayne, and he gathered her closer against his chest. Don’t worry, sugar. He’s not getting past me. Why couldn’t the guy take a hint? She wasn’t interested. End of story.
But the stalker stood there as they loaded Christa into her truck. “Is she going to the hospital? Because I can come up there and—” He took a step back when Rayne closed her door and leveled his gaze at him. He made sure it was a threatening look, one that warned him to back off and leave her the hell alone. And strangely, the possessiveness he felt toward Christa at that moment felt right.
Rayne stared the guy down, hoping he wouldn’t have to get physical to get his point across. “She’s fine,” was all he said, and rounded the cab to slide into the driver’s seat. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space without looking back.
****
They finally pulled into her driveway a few minutes before midnight with Christa slumped in the passenger seat. She would have driven herself home if the dizzy spells hadn’t made it impossible.
Rayne eye
d her after he turned off the engine. “I’ll come in while you get settled, okay? I could even stay and wake you every hour like they said at the hospital.”
“No way,” she said. God, imagine her waking up to see Rayne beside her bed all night. Talk about torture. “You’ve already gone to too much trouble as it is. I’ll just ice my leg, then go to bed.”
“You wouldn’t let Teryl stay with you either, and I’d feel a lot better if I knew you weren’t alone.”
Her heart stuttered. “Why, do you think something might happen?” She’d let him drive her home instead of Teryl because after the stalker’s persistence at the ballpark, she felt safer with Rayne.
He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the contact giving her goosebumps. “I would just feel better if I was here in case you needed anything.”
She tilted her head. “Because you’re my friend, or because you’re a cop?”
He shrugged. “Both. And let’s not forget you’ve got a mild concussion.”
She chewed her tender lower lip. She was pretty banged up. And if Rayne seemed concerned about the potential for overnight encounters with her crazed fan, maybe that was reason enough to have a cop in the house.
“You could help me inside, if you don’t mind,” she finally relented, and let herself out of the truck. Her head pounded like someone was playing a kettle drum in her skull and her neck was so sore she couldn’t turn it without wincing. When she let them into the house they were greeted by an ecstatic Jake, who seemed thrilled that she’d brought company home. He wagged his tail and gazed up at Rayne with adoring brown eyes.
“You’re a suck,” Rayne told him, but reached down to stroke his velvety ears anyway.
“I need a quick shower,” she said from the bottom of the staircase. “Make yourself at home.”
“Okay, but call me if you get dizzy or anything, all right?”
“Sure.” Right. Because then he’d come charging in to the bathroom while she was naked in the shower, and she’d have heart failure for sure. Those big hands sliding over her wet skin...
Stop that.
She headed upstairs. The hot shower helped relax her battered muscles, and she threw on a top and shorts under her robe before heading back down. Rayne was on the couch watching sports highlights. She liked that he seemed so comfortable in her space. After finding a bag of frozen corn from the freezer she wrapped it in a dampened tea towel and joined him, propping her feet on the coffee table to place her makeshift ice pack on her swollen, discolored thigh.
“Feel any better?” he asked.
“By better do you mean has my head stopped feeling like it’s about to explode? Or have I stopped seeing double?”
“Both.”
“Then yes. Thanks.” She pushed aside the nerves that skittered through her stomach at his presence in her house, his nearness. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
She settled deeper into the couch, making sure she kept some distance between them. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to snuggle up against that long, hard body. “So, while I was conscious, did you think I was intimidating out there, or what?”
He stretched his long, muscular legs out in front of him. “I have to admit, I was impressed. You’ve got one hell of an arm. And you were like a general, leading from the front. Sort of a scary transformation to watch, actually. I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.”
She laughed and adjusted her ice pack. “After people see me on the field for the first time, I’m suddenly Jekyll and Hyde.”
“That’s probably because the rest of the time you don’t seem capable of throwing your weight around like that.”
“Adds to my mystique.”
“Too bad you won’t be able to play for a while.”
A hot spurt of alarm hit her. The final cuts to the national team were about to be made, and she needed to be out where the scouts could see her. “Oh, man. Why did this have to happen now?”
When she met his gaze, the intensity there made her go still. Whatever he was thinking about, it was bad. “What?”
“Never mind your ball career. You’ve got a way bigger problem, babe.”
Dread formed a tight ball in her gut. “You mean my stalker?”
“I don’t think he’s playing with a full deck, if you know what I mean.”
Oh yeah, she knew what he meant. The guy was obsessive, persistent. What would he do to her if he caught her alone again?
“If he keeps following you around, I think you should consider getting a restraining order against him.”
Her eyes widened. “You think it’s that serious?”
“I think it could get real serious. You didn’t see him when you got hit, but he completely freaked out. He threatened the runner who hit you, threatened the umpire, and security had to drag him out of the park.”
No, she hadn’t seen any of that because of all the spots swimming before her eyes. “And then he was waiting for me outside the gate.”
“Exactly,” he finished, frowning. “I’ve seen this kind of behavior too many times, and I only want you to be careful. You need to put a stop to this before it escalates, because it most likely will. Never leave the park on your own, always be aware of your surroundings, check your truck before you get into it. Always alarm your house when you’re alone.”
Some basic precautions made sense, she supposed, but the scenario as he painted it made her skin prickle. “Do you think he knows where I live?” The idea made her heart lurch. All at once she realized how vulnerable she was, a woman alone on an acre property in a rural area. Her eyes darted out the window, as if he might be out there right now, hiding in the darkness.
“Want me to stay after all?”
Yes! her brain screamed. She wouldn’t sleep a wink now, waiting up all night with her bat beside her in case her stalker tried to break in. Right now she felt too sore to swing it, but surely adrenaline would kick in if she needed it. “Thanks,” she heard herself say, “but I’ll be okay.” I hope.
Rayne studied her. “It’s no problem for me to stay.”
God, she hated feeling so vulnerable, so helpless. Growing up feeling like a burden to her mother, she’d learned early on to take care of herself and not bother anyone, then had moved out as soon as her university scholarship came through. Having been independent for so long it was hard for her to lean on anyone, but she had to admit she would feel a lot safer with him in the house. “So you’d sort of be like my knight in shining armor?”
“Kind of, yeah, if by armor you mean Kevlar.”
Her head began throbbing again, as if to remind her the concussion was reason enough for him to stay over. Just in case. “Well, okay. But you’ll have to sleep in my guest room, and it’s pretty girly. There are flowers on the sheets.”
He reached out a hand and smoothed it over her hair. “I’ll live.”
The brief contact sent her senses spinning, and she had to give herself a mental shake to clear her head. “Okay, follow me,” she said, leading the way up to the second floor with her thigh protesting every step. She would have one hell of a bruise there come morning.
In the guest room she turned back his bedding, gathered some towels in the connecting bathroom and set a new toothbrush on the counter for him. “I would never have asked you to stay, you know.” Though she loved the idea of him sleeping just down the hall from her.
“I know.”
“I really appreciate this. I was going to sleep with my lucky bat under my pillow after you left.”
He chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed, his strong frame making the brass bed seem delicate. “Well, that should make anybody think twice about coming after you. You’ve got one hell of a swing.”
She stood in the doorway watching him, startlingly powerful and masculine amidst the feminine room. Her stomach flip-flopped. “I was hoping to impress you at your first game, but instead I ended up as
road kill.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “Bad-ass road kill, though. You gave her a wicked limp.”
“Yeah, well, she gave me a limp and a concussion, so I’d say she won that round.”
He winced in sympathy. “Did you take your anti-inflammatory?”
“Yes doctor, I did, and I beg you, please don’t wake me up every hour. I like my sleep.”
“That’s what the hospital ordered, darlin’, and I’ll do it because I care about you.”
Her heart squeezed at his concern. And because he called her darlin’, even though he didn’t mean anything by it. “All right. Sleep well.”
“You too.”
Yeah, right. If she managed to nod off between his hourly checks on her. She’d probably lie awake all night imagining that muscular body in bed on the other side of the hall. Wasn’t that ironic? A gorgeous hunk was spending the night in her guest room, and the only man who seemed interested in her was a stalker who could be out there hiding in her azaleas right now.
Chapter Four
He followed their progress through the house with every light she turned off, the bitterness of her betrayal gnawing with each passing second. Bad enough that Christa had let that other guy take care of her after she was injured, but now she was letting him stay the night with her? No one can take care of you like I can, he fumed, a hot stab of jealousy spiking through him. How dare she reject him like that. The idea of her having sex with that stranger while he was standing outside helpless to prevent it nearly choked him.
He didn’t want to believe the truth, even when it was staring him in the face. His angel was a whore after all, just like all the others had been. Like his drunk of a mother had been. The disappointment swamping him was almost suffocating.
Calm down, calm down, he commanded himself, setting aside his binoculars and trying to understand. All his life he’d battled to keep the rage at bay. His breath came in quick, sharp pants as he fought to regain control. Breathe. Slow...slow...
She’d just been in a terrible collision and wasn’t herself. She was in pain, probably still shaken up, and he couldn’t expect her to behave normally. Maybe the man was only staying the night to take care of her. How Seth hated to see her hurting, especially when that bitch who’d hit her had gotten away with only a bad knee. Christa was testing his loyalty, that was all. When she discovered how devoted he was to her, she would see they were meant to be together. She’d know.
