Out of Her League

by Kaylea Cross

  She went into the kitchen where Teryl was tossing a salad for their barbecue dinner while the guys worked on the deck. Beside her stood Rayne, looking like he’d come straight out of a Levi’s commercial, naked from the waist up with all those beautiful, rippling muscles exposed, his jeans hugging powerful thighs, a tool belt strapped around his lean hips. Any other time the sight would have made her mind go blank, and as it was the breath caught in her lungs. With effort she wrenched her gaze up to his face.

  “Hi, darlin’.” His smile was full of relief. “I guess I should give you a lecture, but since you had someone drive you—”

  “He left me another rose. And a note.”

  “What?”

  She tried not to wince at the anger in his voice. “He gave them to Maggie earlier, made it out to be some kind of romantic gesture.”

  Teryl made a sympathetic sound and moved to wrap her arms around Christa. She fought back tears at the gesture of comfort.

  “I just want him to leave me alone.” She let her head drop onto Teryl’s shoulder. “I want my goddamn life back.”

  “Where are they?” Rayne asked. “The rose and the note?”

  “I threw the rose away and took the note to the police station.”

  “Good, let’s hope he left some good prints on it. What did it say?” She told him and his face darkened. “Great. A song by The Police now. Son of a bitch sure gets off on messing with your head.”

  She turned to Teryl. “Sorry, but it looks like you’ll have to put up with me for—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize or I’ll have to smack you. We love having you here, and at least we know you’re safe while you’re with us. Now, I want you to go outside and sit down with a glass of wine.” She gave her a nudge toward the patio.

  Christa went outside and dropped into a lounge chair. How long was this going to go on? She’d been positive the guy would have lost interest in her by now. When Rayne came and sat beside her she looked up at him in bewilderment. “Why is it so hard to catch him? If he can track me down all over the place, why can’t the police find him?”

  “He’s been real lucky lately, sweetheart, that’s all. They’ll get him.”

  He sounded so sure, which helped ease her anxiety. “I keep remembering all the things Nate said to me.”

  “Don’t,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm. “You’ll make yourself crazy that way. Just be more careful and don’t let him get to you.”

  Don’t let him get to her? That was a double entendre, and while she was certainly doing her best to steer clear of him, his ominous notes were not something she was capable of ignoring. “While I was at the police station they had me work with a sketch artist.”

  “Good. To be honest, I’m surprised they didn’t do that sooner.”

  “Why me?” she demanded. She worked hard, paid her bills and taxes on time, donated to charity every Christmas. She was kind to animals, got along well with others. How could this be happening? “I’m a good person, Rayne. Why would someone want to scare me like this?”

  “I don’t have a clue, except you’re single and you’re hot. Maybe you intimidate him and he figures he couldn’t get your attention any other way.”

  She glared at him. “I’m not hot.” If she was, why had she been single the past five years?

  “Yeah darlin’, you are.”

  Her cheeks heated. “And why would he be intimidated by me? I haven’t been out with a guy in so long it...” She shook her head. “I mean how pathetic is that? The one guy who wants me turns out to be a sicko.”

  His eyes glowed at her. “Maybe you’re too busy worrying about him to notice the ones who aren’t sickos.”

  She reached for her wine glass. This was way too embarrassing, sitting here discussing her non-existent love life with the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. Could he tell how she felt about him? It was so hard for her to keep it hidden. Maybe it was obvious from her expression whenever he was around. Lord knew he had had enough experience with women to know when one was attracted to him. Other than their almost-kiss that night on her staircase, he’d never tried to make a move on her so she assumed he wasn’t interested in her that way, which made it even more important to keep her wishful thinking to herself.

  “You okay, babe?” Teryl asked when she came outside to set the table.

  Christa forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Rayne’s taking care of me, as usual. How about you? Feeling any better?”

  “Much. Thanks to you.”

  “So let’s put this whole mess away for a while and have a nice dinner.”

  She was filling the last water glass a few minutes later when Rayne came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She nearly dropped the pitcher but he tightened his hold until her back pressed against his chest. Did he have his shirt on? Please, God, let him have his shirt on. If he didn’t she’d pass out right here on the patio. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said against her temple, raising goosebumps. He must have guessed she’d shoved everything aside for Teryl’s benefit.

  Christa tilted her head back to gaze up at him, her heart knocking against her ribs, acutely aware of every inch of contact between them. “Thanks,” she said, patting one of his iron-hard forearms locked around her clenched midriff, applauding herself for seeming unaffected by the feel of him. “You are, too.”

  “So you’ve finally noticed that, huh?”

  “What, that you’re a sweetheart? I’ve known that for a long time, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’d hate to ruin your macho reputation.” She returned to filling the glass, pretending she didn’t want to turn and fling her arms around him when he released her. “You’ve been really good to me, and I appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure, darlin’.” The honeyed drawl made her belly flip.

  “So, you hungry? Let me go get those steaks on the barbecue.” She needed some space between them, before she did something stupid like grab hold of him and never let go.

  “That’s a grill, not a barbecue. Barbecue’s what us Southerners do back home—wood chips, dry rubs, cooking long and slow. See the difference?” Humor glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just so you know.”

  “I’ll never confuse the two again,” she promised.

  He squeezed her once more before letting her go. “You sit tight. I’ll do them.”

  Grateful for the distance he’d given her, she drew her first deep breath since he’d wrapped his arms around her. If she’d kissed him the other night, where would things stand now?

  When Drew arrived home they sat out on the sunny deck amidst Teryl’s struggling flowers, feasting on salad and roasted potatoes and tender steak. “So, how’s the dinner settling, Mommy?” Christa asked as they neared the end of the first course.

  “Mommy?” Rayne glanced from Teryl to Drew and back again.

  “Yep.” Teryl’s face lit up in a smile as she clapped her husband on the back. “He’s a potent guy. Did it in one shot.”

  Drew’s cheeks went ruddy. “What can I say? I’m good.”

  “Congrats, y’all,” Rayne got to his feet and shook hands with his buddy before giving Teryl a hug. “So when’s the big day?”

  "Mid-January, give or take," Teryl gushed. She popped another bite of steak into her mouth. “If I live through this pregnancy, that is. I’ve got morning sickness, which is the most ridiculous term I’ve ever heard since I puke all day and all night. Some male doctor must have come up with that one. I can’t wait to find out what other euphemisms the medical community has...” Her eyes fastened on something in the distance. “Uh-oh. Chris, you’d better get Jake.”

  Christa glanced beyond the unfinished deck where a fat raccoon sat on the lawn, scoping the remains of their dinner with his beady black eyes. “Oh crap,” she breathed and hurried to intercept her dog before the hunt could begin. She found him frozen behind the French doors in the kitchen, staring out at the masked intruder with a ‘go-ahead-make-my-day’ expression. She grabbed h
im by the collar and hauled him away to the garage. “Sorry boy,” she said, appeasing him with a scratch beneath the chin but he turned his head away as if he was disgusted with her. “I’ll let you out after dinner, okay?” He snorted and went to lie in the corner, his brown eyes accusing.

  “I gotta go,” Rayne announced when she returned to the table. “We’ve got a sting planned for oh-four-hundred.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Teryl demanded as he pushed back and stood. “You should have gone home hours ago to get some sleep.”

  “Nah. The company was too good.” He winked at Christa, said his goodbyes to the others. “Will you come lock the door behind me?” he asked her.

  “Sure.” Grabbing his jacket from one of the deck chairs, she followed him through the house to the foyer where he bent to put on his shoes. “I hope you won’t be too tired in the morning.” It worried her he might be groggy enough to dull his reflexes during an op.

  Moonlight filtering through the door’s side panels illuminated his face as he straightened. “Don’t worry about me, darlin’. I’m going straight home to sleep so I can spend every possible second dreaming about you.” He shrugged into his jacket.

  A smothered giggle escaped her. The guy was unbelievable. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “Nope. Not where you’re concerned.”

  The silly smile on her face disappeared. Her mouth went dry as tension crackled in the air between them. Before she could say anything, Rayne slid his hands around her back and brought her close, staring down into her wide eyes as her hands flattened against his shoulders. She swallowed, heart slamming against her ribs.

  This so didn’t feel like ‘just friends’ anymore.

  Long fingers came up to brush the hair away from her hot cheek, trailed down to the curve of her jaw, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She swallowed again, waiting breathlessly to find out what he would do next.

  His gaze locked with hers, then dropped to her mouth. He bent his head and she held her breath, eyes drifting closed as she tilted her face up, her heart knocking against her sternum.

  “Christa, you there?” Teryl’s voice floated around the corner.

  Christa leapt back guiltily. “Yeah?” she blurted.

  Teryl’s head appeared around the corner. “You’re dessert’s ready. Better come eat it before it melts.” She looked from her to Rayne with a bright smile. “See you later, Hutch.”

  Christa darted a glance at him. Too flustered to say anything, she stood there staring at him in mortified silence. Compounding her uncertainty, he dropped a kiss on her forehead rather than going for her lips and stepped back. She almost whimpered in protest. A rueful smile curved his mouth. “Night,” he said. “Don’t forget to lock up behind me.”

  When the door shut behind him, Teryl swatted her on the ass. “Come on. Ice cream’s melting.”

  Ice cream? Christa stared after her. What the hell did she care about ice cream? She’d just been cheated out of the kiss she’d been fantasizing about for two whole years. Standing there in the empty foyer, Christa wanted to scream with frustration.

  It took a few minutes before she felt steady enough to go back to the patio to join them. Without Rayne there to distract her, that nagging sense of unease came back, lingered all through dessert and the clean up. She felt the loss of his presence as a physical ache. Teryl and Drew were both in the house with her, so she was perfectly safe. Still, she couldn’t get the ominous lyrics from the note out of her head.

  Did Seth know she was staying here? Probably, which put Drew, Teryl and the baby in danger. Maybe she should find somewhere else to stay. She peered out the guestroom window, straining to see anything in the shifting light as tattered clouds obscured the moon. The cul-de-sac was empty, trees swaying their leafy branches, casting patterns of shadow and light on the lawn.

  You’re fine. She forced her thoughts back to Rayne, the security of his arms around her. We’ll all be fine.

  ****

  Nate let himself into his office and flipped on the lights. Rayne had asked him to run the partial print taken off the pickup through the system himself, to speed the process. Laughable, considering that this was the first opportunity he’d had all day. He swallowed the last dregs of cold coffee in his mug and grimaced at the bitterness before logging on to his computer. He entered the password that accessed the main database, fighting back a yawn. He’d put in well over forty hours this week already, and the clock was still ticking. He closed his eyes while the machine whirred, fantasizing about a nice thick, medium rare steak. Maybe he’d take his wife out for dinner tomorrow.

  He glanced down at the identity sketch in his hand, hating the guy on principle, whoever the hell he was. Probably a certified whack job who got his kicks terrorizing vulnerable women. He sighed and rolled his head from side to side to ease the tension from his neck and shoulders.

  A couple of minutes later the computer let out a beep and his eyes snapped open. He leaned forward and pulled up the sorted file, dread seeping through him as a mug shot stared back at him from the computer screen. He scanned the information, heart picking up speed, and sucked in his breath.

  “Oh, Christ,” he breathed, and shot out a hand to snatch the phone from its cradle.

  ****

  Christa was folding the last of her laundry when Jake started barking outside, as if he’d cornered something. That damn raccoon again? “Oh, for the love of—” She stilled, hoping he would quiet down. Teryl and Drew had already gone to bed and given how lousy Teryl had been feeling, she didn’t want anything to disturb them.

  Jake kept on barking. She’d have to go and deal with the dog before he woke the entire neighborhood, so she grabbed a broom from the utility closet and hurried to the patio doors.

  Way to go, Jake, make everyone mad so you’ll have to stay in a kennel.

  She unlocked the doors and stepped out onto the deck, triggering the security lights as she scanned the yard. Jake was poised below a cedar tree at the rear fence, staring intently into the darkness beyond.

  “Jake!” she called in a loud whisper. “Come here.” She should have known better than to expect a border collie to obey that command when he was focused on something else. Another bark. “Jake, shhhh!” Resigned, she set off toward him with a sigh, broom in hand in case the raccoon had any ideas.

  Just beyond the reassuring circle of light cast by the motion sensors, Jake froze into place. Christa faltered. What if it wasn’t the raccoon? Maybe she should go get Drew, just in case.

  But she hated to wake him, so she crept closer to Jake.

  His hackles went up, a low, menacing growl coming from his throat, a sound she’d never heard him make before. Her fingers tightened around the broomstick, lifted high, but she saw no sign of the raccoon.

  In the shadows something moved. The branches in the wind? No, something else. Something big. She stepped back, bumping into a tree. A roaring filled her ears, the metallic tang of fear filling her mouth.

  Run.

  Her mind screamed it, her flesh prickling and crawling, her legs paralyzed.

  Run!

  The shadow moved again, materializing into a man’s silhouette.

  He’d shaved his head completely.

  The scream clawed its way up her throat as she pivoted to flee, the kitchen light a beacon of safety in the distance. His hand clamped over her mouth after only a thread of sound could escape, snapping her head back, his body bearing her down to the dew-wet grass. Jake yelped and lunged at her attacker, who slammed his foot into the dog’s belly. Jake gave a shriek and disappeared under a bush.

  Christa fought with every ounce of strength, swinging her elbow at his face. Before she could do any damage he caught her wrist and twisted it halfway up her back, his other hand stifling her screams. She flailed underneath him, trying to land a blow with her knee, her foot, but he was too fast. And strong. Too strong. His breath sawed in and out as he flipped her face
down, tugging her arms behind her.

  He slapped something wide and sticky over her mouth, and she wrenched her head back and forth trying and dislodge it. Duct tape. She could hardly breathe, sucking in gulps of air through her nose. Panic gave way to hysteria, making the world tilt as her vision blurred. Her voice was hoarse from the bloodcurdling cries tearing out of her, only to be muffled by her gag. After the rip of more tape being peeled off, her limbs were immobilized. Trussed and helpless, she struggled against her bonds as he dragged her through the yard and the open gate into the alley out back, muscling her toward a vehicle.

  Don’t let him get me in the car, she prayed, twisting and thrashing, rolling her eyes back toward the house. No one had heard her scream. No one would be coming to help.

  Please God, don’t let him get me into that car.

  Nate’s words swam through her terror-numbed brain. If he got her into that vehicle, she was as good as dead. Do whatever you can to disable him long enough to get away. Rayne’s words.

  With all her strength she threw her head back, and he grunted as her skull smashed into his chin. His grip loosened and even as she fell she rolled away. Cruel fingers wrenched her backward before she could gain her footing, digging with bruising force into her skin.

  “Bitch,” he snarled, jerking the car door wide and yanking her upright before throwing her straining body onto the floor in front of the back seat. He pinned her to the stale carpet with his weight and tied her with a rope to the front seat, then locked the rear doors.

  Choking on her fear, she struggled to lift her legs high enough to kick at the windows with her bound feet, hoping someone would hear or see her.

  “Go ahead and kick,” he taunted as he gunned the engine.

  The gag distorted her gurgle into a muffled moan. I don’t want to die...I don’t want to die...

  Streetlights cast alternating light and shadow over the car’s interior as he drove. Where were they going? Would he stab her? Strangle her? Rape her? Tears streamed down her face, the sobs making it even harder to breathe.