Out of Her League

by Kaylea Cross

  To his credit he’d been here all night, with Christa every second, holding her hand and stroking her hair, revealing a tender side of him Teryl had never seen before. Her heart softened toward him. “You look tired. Maybe you should go home.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t look fine. He looked exhausted, with heavy shadows under his eyes. “At least she’s peaceful right now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Should I take her home with me when she’s discharged?” She stared at Christa’s beaten face. “I’d hoped it was as safe a place as any, but he still got to her. We both assumed Jake was barking at that raccoon, and by the time Drew went down to check it out...” Her voice was rough with guilt. Had she been awake she would never have let Christa go outside alone. “As soon as we realized she was gone I called the police and Drew went to find Jake. Said the dog had crawled halfway down the alley, trying to go after her. I called you too, but your phone went to voicemail.” She wiped her damp cheeks with her hand. “The vet said he’ll be okay, so if she wakes up and I’m not here make sure you tell her, because I know she’ll be worried. And tell her I talked to Michael. She should probably call him herself when she wakes up, before he hops a red-eye flight.”

  Rayne crossed the room and gave her a hug and she leaned into him with a sigh. She already felt miserable enough, the guilt and fatigue fueling her nausea. She’d thrown up twice since arriving at the hospital.

  “It wasn’t your fault. You and Drew did all you could to help keep her safe. Problem is, she’s probably not safe anywhere right now. But we need to figure something out, because the doc told me she can leave here later today.”

  “What about your sting operation?” Teryl remembered.

  “I’ve called in and they’re handling it without me.”

  “So why don’t you go home and get some sleep? I’ll stay as long as she needs me.”

  Rayne shook his head, adamant. “I told her I’d be here.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’ll sleep awhile yet.” She’d barely twitched for the past two hours.

  He grunted.

  “She’ll be fine with it. I’ll tell her I kicked you out. She wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he finally relented with a nod. “Okay, but call me if you need anything, and tell her I’ll be back later.” He moved toward the door.

  “Hutch.”

  He stopped, glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  Her lips thinned. There was so much she wanted to say to him, and she was too upset to mince words. “Please promise me you’ll be careful with her.”

  He frowned. “Of course I will.”

  “That’s not what—” She gave him an exasperated look. “I mean, be careful with her heart. Don’t break it, okay?”

  He towered over her, arms folded across his chest, his expression hard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her chin jutted outward. If he thought his size intimidated her...she was exhausted, worried, pregnant and puking, not to be messed with. “You weren’t there after she broke up with Cameron the Shithead, so you wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t pretty, and it took her about a year to smile again. So let me just ask you this, Hutch—” She fixed him with a hard look. “How does it feel to be the most important person in the universe to her?”

  His brows rose, betraying his otherwise guarded expression. “Did she tell you that?”

  “She didn’t have to tell me because I know her and I can see it for myself. I’m her best friend and I’m begging you, be careful with her.”

  That hard stare turned into a glower. “You’re assuming I’ll hurt her because that’s the kind of guy I am?”

  “Come on, Hutch. You know I adore you, and I know you wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. It’s you hurting her by accident that scares the hell out of me.”

  He stared down at Christa’s inert form for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I would never do anything to hurt her,” he said, his voice husky. “If you don’t know that, then you don’t know me at all.”

  The heat and tenderness in his eyes left her speechless, which was saying something. When he walked out, she stared at the closed door through eyes blurred with tears.

  ****

  All that had stopped the scathing comeback on his tongue was the strain on Teryl’s face. How could she think he would ever hurt Christa? It had been hard enough to leave her in that hospital bed, for Chrissake. As it was, he battled with his conscience all the way out to the parking lot.

  By the time he got home his hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Imagining what that bastard had done to her made fury pour through him in a crimson haze. Blood pounding in his head, he tore up to the workout room, wrapped tape around his knuckles and slammed his fist into the heavy bag so hard the impact jarred all the way up to his shoulder. Then he threw himself at it as if it were Christa’s attacker, swinging mindlessly, holding nothing back, exorcising his rage with every bit of power he could muster.

  Over and over his fists exploded into it until his knuckles were raw despite the tape, until he was blinded by his own sweat, until he gasped for breath. Only then did he stop, staggering back as weariness took over in the wake of the rage that had drained out of him. Chest heaving, he bent forward at the waist and unwrapped his hands, inspecting the damage he’d inflicted. They were starting to hurt like a sonofabitch. Swearing, he headed to his condo for a shower.

  A couple hours later, he parked next to Nate’s vehicle in front of Christa’s house, steeling himself for what he was about to see. He hadn’t been able to sleep after all, despite his exhaustion. He needed to see the crime scene for himself, find out what the forensic team had uncovered. After tossing restlessly he’d called Nate, who’d told him to meet him here.

  In a daze he pushed through the crowd on the porch and entered the house, feeling as if he was watching a movie. He passed through the homey kitchen and family room, the cozy décor at odds with the heinous crime carried out within these walls. At the top of the stairs he moved toward Christa’s bedroom, following the murmuring voices and the click of a camera’s shutter, the flashes illuminating the hallway. Nate stood at the door, waiting for him.

  “You all right?”

  Rayne merely nodded, forcing back the dread gathering inside.

  “Forensics are almost done,” Nate continued, gauging his emotional state. “No semen or pubic hair, but she did have some of his skin under her fingernails. Some of the bloodstains don’t match her blood type, so we’re testing for a match with his.”

  Well, at least she’d managed to claw the bastard. Good for her. “Are you going to let me in or not?” Enough with the bullshit already. Nate held his stare, then stepped aside.

  Bracing himself, Rayne took a deep breath and entered the room, bile rising up his throat. His eyes locked on the bed, the four pieces of rope tied to the brass frame, coated with blood. Her blood.

  He forced air into his lungs, willed his heart to slow down. He looked up at Nate with tortured eyes. “What the hell did he do to her?”

  Nate gazed down at him. “You know I’m not gonna tell you that,” he said, his expression sympathetic. “If you want to know what happened, you’ll have to ask her.”

  A member of the forensics team walked past carrying a plastic evidence bag. He sucked in a sharp breath. “A knife?” he demanded, grabbing Nate. “He used a fucking knife on her?” She’d been mostly covered by the hospital gown when he’d seen her. Had she been sliced up and he hadn’t realized it?

  Nate pried the clenched fists from his shirt. “Rayne, calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down—did he use a knife on her?” He was ready to explode, recognized it in some distant part of his brain that was still miraculously functioning.

  “She said he used it to strip her, but didn’t actually cut her with it,” Nate answered carefully.

  Rage swamped him until he thought he’d lose his mind. “I need some air,�
� he muttered, and hurried downstairs to the porch, sucking in oxygen as he sank onto the top step. He couldn’t bear thinking about what she’d gone through.

  After a while Nate’s footsteps sounded behind him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” The anger and shock were fading, replaced by an awful helplessness that felt a whole lot worse. “I can’t believe anyone would hurt her like that.” He looked up at him. “Honest to God, Nate, she’s a sweetheart. How in hell could someone do that to her?”

  “Dunno.” He came and sat next to him. “I need to ask you about something.” He held out a framed picture, sealed in a clear evidence bag. “Does this mean anything to you? It was sitting on the nightstand, right next to the bed.”

  Rayne took it from him, stared at it. Him and Christa at her surprise party a few days ago. He had his arm around her shoulders, and they were gazing at each other, laughing. One of her teammates had taken it. He’d bought her the frame. And her neighbor had given her a yellow raincoat for Jake. That’s what they were laughing at in the photo. She’d put it in the frame he’d given her and set it next to her bed. The implications squeezed his heart, reminding him of Teryl’s warning about not hurting her.

  He shrugged. “Never seen it before.”

  “Might be nothing. Seemed odd that it was displayed like that, though. Everything else around the bed was trashed.”

  Rayne clenched his fists. Bad enough that she had been attacked in her own bed, in the house that meant more to her than anything. A hundred times worse to know that she may have looked at that photo and seen him, to imagine how helpless she’d been while she stared into his eyes in the picture. His skin crawled.

  “Have them get rid of that mattress. I’ll buy a new one for her. New sheets, all of that.” He wanted it all gone before she came home. If she ever came home. He wouldn’t blame her for never setting foot here again.

  “Sure thing. Tell her we’re doing everything we can, okay?”

  Whatever they were doing, it would never be enough. For him, or for her. On rubbery legs he headed for his car, was halfway down her driveway when an elderly man flagged him down. Patrick, Christa’s neighbor. They’d met at her party.

  “Will she be all right, lad?”

  “I think so. I saw her at the hospital, but—”

  “When they catch the bastard, I hope he never sees the light of day again.” His voice caught. “Who would do such a thing to her? She’s such a lovely lass, never has a harsh word for anybody. The kindest person we’ve ever known, the wife and me.”

  The hot, quick rage swept through him again and he fought it down, had to get control. She needed him to be her rock.

  “You’ll watch over her for us, won’t you? Let us know how she is.”

  “Sure will. And thanks for...for what you did.”

  He couldn’t think about what might have happened had Patrick not shown up. Right now all he wanted was to see Christa again. What should he say to her? What could he say to her? His imagination kept conjuring up all sorts of gut-twisting images. He had to get a grip on himself so he could be there to soothe her, comfort her. The memory of her big blue eyes formed in his head, haunted eyes filled with pain. He wanted to kill that goddamned animal with his bare hands.

  Chapter Ten

  Christa awoke stiff and sore, in the hospital. It hit her like a Mack truck, each detail flashing through her brain like a movie. Shock held her immobile.

  She curled into a fetal position, wincing at the throbbing from the rope burns on her wrists and ankles, the sting on her cheek where he’d hit her. Between her legs was only a tender, bruised feeling. It made her feel sick when she thought of it.

  The TV was tuned to a local newscast. A newscaster reporting an aggravated assault, asking the public for information that might lead to the whereabouts of a dangerous sexual predator, possibly armed, described as medium build, gray-eyed and bald. Watching it felt surreal, as if the attack had happened to someone else.

  Well, at least they were trying hard to find him. She huddled deeper under the blankets. Cold, she was so cold.

  A knock sounded and Rayne opened the door.

  “Hi,” she said, sitting up straighter as he came toward her.

  “Hey, darlin’.” He bent down to hug her gently.

  “You didn’t have to come back,” she told him, pressing closer. The instant their bodies had touched she’d felt safer.

  “Like hell. I’m only sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” He lifted a hand to touch her face but she recoiled, hiding it from his view. “Let me see, babe,” he coaxed, his eyes full of concern as he tilted her chin and studied her. She felt so self-conscious, hated that he could see the ugly bruises forming on her cheeks and jaw. He pressed a kiss to her temple and tightened his arms around her with a heavy sigh. “I can’t stand what he did to you.”

  She tensed, trying to absorb the security of his hold, the warmth from his body that seeped into her, his scent. He was familiar, trustworthy—the only person she wanted such close physical contact with. She laid her head on his wide chest and breathed him in, savoring his strength. All too soon he pulled away.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No thanks.” She made room for him beside her on the narrow bed and tugged at the sleeves of the shirt Teryl had brought her, trying to hide the bandages circling her wrists. “So, is there anything new to report?”

  “Not yet. Nate’s working your case, so he’ll be right on it. A description’s been issued throughout Canada and the western U.S.” Her eyelids flinched. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  She stared down at her hands. “I shouldn’t have gone outside, but I thought...well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought, does it?”

  He took her hand in his. “This was not your fault, Christa. None of it was.” He rubbed her knuckles in silent sympathy.

  “Rayne?” She fought the wave of shyness, tentatively meeting his concerned gaze. The words didn’t come easily for her, and she doubted they ever would again. “Would you hold me?” When his brows rose in surprise, her confidence faltered. “Just for a little while.”

  But Rayne was already moving. He scooped her up, blankets and all, but went dead still when she gasped and stiffened. “Sorry. I’m fine.” As if she was made of porcelain, he lifted her out of the little nest she’d created in her hospital bed and set her on his lap. Giving the impression he needed the comfort of holding her as much as she did, he enveloped her, cradling her against him.

  Christa sighed in relief at the sense of instant security, even though it was only an illusion. Rayne was so warm and protective. She snuggled closer, reveling in the way his muscles moved as he shifted to hold her more tightly, surrounding her body with his. Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady under her cheek. It soothed her. Her eyes closed in reverence. “I tried to fight him,” she whispered, battling the shame crawling through her. Rayne’s muscles went rigid under her cheek.

  She should have fought harder. She should have tried something else. “I did some of the things you taught me, but he was...he was too strong.” She swallowed as she thought about it. Only a little taller than her, and he’d overpowered her with laughable ease. “And then I was too scared to fight anymore. It thought maybe I was making it better for him by struggling, so I stopped. Tried to play dead.” But then he’d—

  Rayne’s harsh sigh cut off the terrible memory. He hugged her tighter. “You couldn’t have done anything to stop it, sweetheart. Don’t blame yourself.” Gentle fingers caressed the curve of her cheekbone. “When you’re discharged I’m taking you home with me,” he informed her. “It’s the safest place for you right now. But nowhere around here is safe enough, so if you’re up to it we could drive down to the beach house in Lincoln City in the morning.”

  “Nate’s place, in Oregon?”

  “Yeah. I think taking you away for a while’s the best thing. Just for a few days, until they ca
tch him.”

  She swallowed. “I called Michael this morning. He wants me to fly back east and stay with him.”

  A beat of silence passed. “That’s an option. Up to you.”

  But even though she loved Michael to pieces, she didn’t want him to see her like this. She’d rather be with Rayne, although she had no idea how she was supposed to share a roof alone with him and pretend she only wanted to be his friend. “I thought Nate has to take my statement and all that.”

  “He said he’ll come and do it at my place when you’re ready.”

  What else was there to say? She refused to put Teryl and Drew in danger again by returning to their place, and no way could she go home, even if she wanted to. She wouldn’t be in control of her life anytime soon, so she’d better get used to it. “I guess... Lincoln City sounds okay to me.”

  He tightened his arms and drew her head back down, as if willing her to draw comfort from his strength. She sighed and burrowed into his chest. Curling as close as she could, she found the courage to ask the question that frightened her the most. “Do you think they’ll catch him?” The fear she tried to conceal in her voice made it unsteady.

  “Oh, yeah. They’ll catch him, sweetheart, and soon.” His assurance left a hollow feeling in her stomach. If he was prepared to drive her all the way down to Oregon in an attempt to keep her safe, he was putting himself at risk for her sake, and she would never forgive herself if something happened to Rayne because of her. She knew he was well trained, but he was still human.

  Battling nerves and fatigue, she made herself take a calming breath and focus on the man holding her, trusting him to keep vigil, and let herself drift off to sleep.

  ****

  Rayne had never felt so protective of anyone as he gazed down at her battered face, cradling her as tightly as he dared. He knew he eventually had to let her go, but hated like hell to do it. He’d feel like he was deserting her.

  The devastation in her bedroom had chilled his soul. At least the doc had confirmed that she hadn’t been raped, thank God, so he wouldn’t have to think of her being violated that way.