by Kaylea Cross
Christa Bailey was nothing like the others. From the first day he’d seen her down at the beach, carrying pots of flowers into a condo, he’d accepted that fate had intervened. When she’d emerged onto the deck and tucked the plants into their containers, he’d been struck by how fresh and feminine she was. All his research showed her to be an independent, hardworking single woman, and a quality human being. Those attributes alone made her precious, but with her added beauty and kindness...she was perfect. He had to be careful not to let his admiration of her interfere with his plans. They had a connection, Christa and him. He was her destiny.
Seth made his way back to the screen of trees surrounding the property, careful to erase any footprints from the spongy ground. He didn’t want to be caught now, when he was so close to achieving his goal. He’d become an expert at being seen only when and by whom he wanted to be seen. He enjoyed the game, pushing the limit each time to see how close he could let them get without being caught. Stupid cops. He hated them all.
Back at the car he changed into the fresh shirt, jeans and shoes he’d brought with him, placing the soiled items into a plastic bag. He couldn’t stand being dirty. Christa was clean, pure. Wasn’t she? He should do something to get her attention. Something special. His lips curved as the plan came together in his head, imagined her expression when she learned what he’d done. She always appeared to sense when he was around, and though he obviously made her nervous, she never seemed sure if she should be afraid of him or not. His smile widened as he drove down the darkened road.
People should trust their instincts more often; they were usually right.
****
Curled up in her antique brass bed, she dreamed Rayne was whispering her name. She sighed and shifted onto her side, flinching when her swollen leg touched the mattress.
“Christa.”
She rolled over, saw his silhouette outlined in her doorway. He really was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt, had come to check on her. Had he been bare-chested she might have hyperventilated. “I’m awake. What time is it?”
“A little after four.” He came toward the bed.
Breath clogging in her throat, she stayed very still as he sat next to her atop the pink and green patchwork quilt, the mattress dipping under his weight. He placed one hand on the back of her head, where the lump was throbbing as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
“How do you feel?” he asked, voice husky with concern. His long fingers probed her skull.
She swallowed, the warmth of his touch spearing through her, igniting a pulse between her legs. “I’m okay, just a bit spacey. Those meds sure knocked me out.”
His fingertips traced her sensitized scalp. “Not dizzy?”
“No.” Not from the concussion, at least. It was his nearness that overwhelmed her and shortened her breath. She had to fight the impulse to crawl into his lap and press against all those finely tuned muscles. “Bit sore, though.”
He held out his other hand to her, offering her a glass of water. “Here,” he said, pressing it into her palm. “You should take another dose.”
She accepted the tablet and swallowed it. He took the glass back from her, the warmth of his fingers making her hand tingle. The scent of fabric softener from his shirt teased her nostrils. Downy had never smelled so good.
“You must’ve been sleeping okay, ‘cause you didn’t move at all the other times I looked in on you.”
“Like a rock,” she assured him, oddly warmed at the idea of him watching over her while she slept. She was so glad he was there, soothing her anxieties about a nocturnal visit from her stalker. “You?”
“I was a little worried the flowered sheets would keep me up, but it turned out not to be a problem.”
He was such a sweetheart, but so off-limits. Why couldn’t she find someone who was into long-term relationships? Although to be honest, right now a fling with him didn’t look so bad.
“I’ll be gone by the time you wake up,” he told her, getting to his feet. “I’ve got an early morning warrant to serve to an unsuspecting drug dealer.” Enjoyment colored his tone. “One of the perks of my job.”
“I’m sure.” She didn’t pretend to understand him, but she admired him all the same. “Personally, I’d rather stare down an Olympic-caliber pitcher.”
He chuckled and stroked her cheek. “See? Now that would scare the hell out of me,” he confessed. “Sleep well, and call me if you need anything, okay?”
She could barely think, with her cheek tingling like it was. The man was a hazard to her nervous system. “I will. Thanks for everything, Rayne. I feel better knowing you’re here.”
She thought he smiled at her in the semi-darkness. “Anytime, babe.”
Watching him pull the door closed behind him, she let out a deep sigh and settled back under the covers to stare up at the shadows on her ceiling. Never mind her stalker, her heart was currently putting her in the most danger.
****
As expected, Rayne was gone by the time she came into the kitchen later that morning. He’d left a note on the table reminding her to keep everything locked and to call him and let him know how she was doing. Pushing any fears about her stalker from her mind she phoned her coach to let him know she was going to live.
“I guess you’re kinda sore today,” Matt said.
He sure had a knack for understatement. She felt like she’d been in a car accident. “So, did we make a comeback?”
“Nah, went from bad to ugly. Came the closest I’ve seen to a bench-clearing brawl, though.”
Damn, and she’d missed it? Her fingers tightened on the phone. “What happened?”
“The girls didn’t take too kindly to their favorite teammate being taken out like that. Monica hit the first batter up between the shoulder blades...kinda hard to argue it was an accident.”
“No kidding.” She was oddly touched by her pitcher’s efforts.
“Anyway, it all went downhill after that, and I barely managed to avoid disaster by charging out and physically restraining their coach from going after her. Too bad you missed it.”
“Man, you’re telling me. Did anyone get thrown out?”
“Yeah, Patty and Lindsay.”
The backup catcher and first baseman. Both tall, strong girls, too. “Well, I’m sorry I missed it all.”
“It was something, I’ll grant you that.” He cleared his throat, and Christa knew something else was coming.
“Thing is, Chris, I got a call from their coach this morning.”
“Is he still mad at you?”
Matt sighed. “It wasn’t that. He...” Silence filled the next few seconds. “I guess the girl that took you out, well...she got hurt in the parking lot of their hotel last night. A hit-and-run, her teammates said.”
Christa’s stomach plummeted.
“A big SUV came flying around the corner, must not have seen her until it was too late. No one else was hurt, but the driver kept going and it was too fast for anyone to get the license plate. They got two witnesses, though, who say they saw the guy.”
Christa swallowed. “Is she all right?”
“She’s in the hospital with a broken thigh and some fractured ribs. Whole lot of road rash, too.”
She winced. The girl must have already been banged up enough after their collision, which would have made it even harder for her to get out of the way in time. “That’s awful.”
“It is. Listen, you take it easy, get better soon. Don’t want our star player out of action for too long, do we?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She’d spent much of the night brooding about her forced absence, the opportunities she’d miss. To be so close to selection and then have to sit out while the last picks for the national roster were made was tying her in knots of frustration.
“I’ve already spoken with the national team head coach, so she’s aware of your injuries and I don’t think missing a few games and practices will hurt your chances any. Try not to worry about it. I’l
l come by and see you, maybe tomorrow after practice. Okay?”
“Sure. See you then.” She hung up and stared across the room, something nagging at her. Was she being paranoid?
It didn’t matter, the awful suspicion had already formed. She’d been so sore last night, so exhausted, that she’d almost forgotten what Rayne had told her about her stalker threatening the umpire and the runner before getting thrown out of the park. Was it so crazy to wonder if the hit-and-run accident hadn’t been an accident at all?
Hoping she was wrong, she got up and located Rayne’s cell number. He’d told her to call if something came up, right? She dialed and waited, expecting his voicemail to pick up.
“Hutch here.”
“Hi Rayne, it’s Christa,” she began.
“Hey, babe. How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Listen, I don’t want to bother you, but—”
“You’re never a bother, darlin’. What’s up?”
She dropped into her favorite chair in the family room, drew a blanket over her chilled skin. “I just talked to my coach, and he told me the girl who slid into me last night has been hospitalized by a hit-and-run in their hotel parking lot.”
A telltale pause met her words. “Was the driver arrested?”
“It all happened too fast for anyone to get a plate number, but witnesses said it was a man driving an SUV.” She lifted a hand to her mouth and absently chewed on a fingernail. She’d love to be way off base about this.
“I’ll make some calls, see what I can find out.”
The concern in his voice confirmed he was every bit as suspicious. She took a steadying breath and put her fear into words, if only to make it real. “So is it just me, or do you think it might not have been an accident?”
“Well, it’s kind of coincidental, after the player who took you out was publicly threatened, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah.” She fought down the nervous energy in her stomach.
“I’ll have a friend of mine check into a few things, but in the meantime stay put and keep your game face on, okay? Pay attention to what’s happening around you. Tonight after work I’ll come over and give you a crash course on self-defense and counter-surveillance, just in case. Never hurts to take precautions, right?”
Oh God. Maybe she’d carry her lucky bat around with her after all. “Okay, thanks,” she answered, brain struggling to keep up. “Have a good day at work.”
“Thanks, darlin’.” She detected a hint of a smile in his voice. “See you later.”
So now she was imprisoned in her own home. Wasn’t that lovely.
Forcing her stiff body out of the chair, she headed upstairs, senses on high alert. She was halfway to the bathroom when the doorbell rang, sending her heart into a desperate gallop. Putting a hand to her chest, she snuck a peek out the window and saw someone set something on the porch. The footsteps retreated, then an engine purred and she glimpsed a white delivery van speeding down her driveway.
Calling Jake to her, hoping but sincerely doubting he would go for the throat if anyone was waiting out there to hurt her, she cracked open the front door and glanced down. A dozen long-stemmed red roses lay at her feet, wrapped in cellophane. Hands clammy, she slowly reached down and plucked the white card from the bouquet.
Everything has been taken care of. Get well soon.
The note bore the number nineteen—her uniform number—on the front. She dropped the note. It fell from her nerveless fingers and fluttered to the ground. With the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, Christa fled inside the house and slammed the door shut, locking out the threat waiting out there with one measly deadbolt. She sank to the floor, her breathing choppy.
Well, now she had no doubt—he definitely knew where she lived.
Chapter Five
She had practically every light in the house burning and her lucky bat was always in the room with her. Those flowers had been the last straw, and she’d immediately called the police station to file a report, then updated Rayne. Within an hour a uniformed officer had arrived to take her statement and the note, cautioning her to monitor the situation carefully and call 911 right away if she suspected she was being followed. They could do nothing more at this stage, the young cop had told her apologetically, since they only had Seth’s first name and description—after a call to the ballpark’s security office, the officer learned that security had failed to properly identify the man before escorting him off property—but if she found out his last name and address she could file a no contact order.
Gee. She felt ever so much better now. If things escalated, she could always stop and ask Seth his last name and address before he went after her. Yep, she was gonna sleep like a baby tonight.
As promised, Rayne arrived. At Rayne’s knock, she hurried over to let him in, all gorgeous in his jeans and T-shirt that hugged his chest and abs. “Hi,” she said, almost weak with relief at having someone else there with her. Constantly staying alert took a lot of energy.
“Hey.” He assessed her with one long look. “How are you holding up?”
“I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy teen suspense movies.”
He laughed. “But in those movies, the characters never had a former Marine-slash-ERT officer with a double black belt to train them in self-defense.”
“There is that. Plus you look like you could bench-press a small car, so I feel better now that you’re here.”
“What, you mean like a Mini Cooper?”
“Oh, at least. And speaking of cars—any word on the SUV that hit the left fielder?”
“Yeah.” His grim expression and tone made her heart sink. “Stolen, and witnesses described the driver as a male, either blond or light brown hair. Add the note, and it’s pretty hard to deny our theory.” He studied her.
“The way my luck’s been going lately?” she scoffed. “Oh, please.” She took a deep breath and raised her chin. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Do your worst.”
He tilted his head. “You sure you’re feeling up to this? Your head isn’t hurting you?”
“Just don’t beat me up any more than I already am, okay? A girl can only take so much.”
He shrugged out of his jacket, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’d be surprised how gentle I can be when I want to.”
Would she? Try her. She fought not to smile, shook her head in exasperation. “You’re bad. Stop trying to distract me.” Now, if only her insides would stop melting at the idea of wrestling with him in mock combat, she was good to go.
He went around the room, moving furniture out of the way. Christa’s eyebrows hiked up toward her hairline. “You planning on throwing me around or something?”
“Scared?” he taunted, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
She snorted at the way he towered above her five-foot-eight frame. “Why should I be? You’re only what, two-fifty and nine feet tall?”
“Two-thirty and six-three, you mean.” He lifted onto his toes and stretched his arms over his head as if he was warming up. “C’mon, this won’t hurt, I promise.”
No easy way to back out now and besides, she was no quitter. Lifting her chin, she limped toward him. At least she’d thought to put on perfume, so she smelled nice.
“Tell me what you know about self-defense,” he prompted, bringing her to stand in front of him.
“Nothing, except that if I ever wind up in a fight, I don’t want to fight like a girl.”
His eyes twinkled. “The first thing I want to stress is you’re not trying to beat anyone up, you’re only trying to stun them long enough for you to run away and yell for help.”
She could do that. “I’m a good yeller, and I’m fast.”
“Okay, come here.” He took hold of her fingers and moved so that he was behind her.
His arms slid around her waist and the faint lemony scent of him made every one of her muscles go rigid. She hoped no part of her body would jiggle at an inopportune moment.
>
First he showed her how to make a proper fist, shifting her thumb safely out of the way. “This is what you do if someone grabs you from behind. Use either your fist or your elbow if you can, and smash it into his face or throat. If he grabs your arms, then use the back of your head or jam your heel down against the top of his foot.” He moved her arm for her, showing her the motion. His build made her feel delicate, as if he could snap her arm like a dry twig. Until now she’d never been aware of how vulnerable she was to a man’s strength. It was an unsettling lesson.
“What about the groin? Shouldn’t I try to knee him in the groin at some point?”
“If you can get a shot in, go ahead, but that’s the first place men automatically block. Do whatever you can to disable him long enough to get away.” He went through the moves again, coming at her from the front, the side and from behind, showing her how to direct the various blows, making her repeat them over and over.
At first she was acutely aware of his muscles pressing against her, but soon she started trusting him not to hurt her, and to defend himself against anything she might manage to dish out. The next hour went by in a blur as he showed her how to break holds, how to use her legs, which were much stronger than her upper body, and more about the vulnerable points of the human body than she’d ever wanted to know.
“This is a strike point only to be used as a last resort, because it can kill someone,” he told her, placing her fingers at the outside corner of his eye. “The edge of the temporal bone is here. It’s thin, especially at the temple. Jab here hard enough and you can cause internal hemorrhaging. Even with light pressure it can make someone toss their cookies.”
She widened her eyes. “Right there?”
