Out of Her League

by Kaylea Cross

  His muscles clenched, heart tripping. He knew what it signified—that note the stalker had left her with the nursery rhyme in it. Run, run as fast as you can... “Christ, I don’t believe this.” How the hell would he have found them? He ran the rest of the way to the car. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Is she okay?”

  “Don’t think so. She’s still in the bathroom, won’t come out. I heard her throwing up.”

  God. “Tell her I’m coming.”

  “Okay.” She sounded angry. “It was the guy who attacked her, right? Should I call the cops?”

  “I’ll do it. I’ll call Nate right now, let him know.” He tried to make his voice soothing. “I’ll be there soon, ‘kay?”

  “’Kay.”

  “Want me to stay on the line with you?”

  “No, you’d better make those calls. I’m going to see if I can calm her down.”

  “Thanks. See you in ten.”

  “Nine,” she corrected, and hung up.

  He dialed Nate on the road and filled him in.

  “Son of a bitch,” Nate snarled in disbelief. “All right. I’ll do what I can on this end, keep you updated if I find anything.”

  That’s all he could hope for at this point, Rayne admitted bitterly. Pulling up in front of Bryn’s, he jumped out and checked the perimeter, looking for footprints, anything suspicious. Nothing. Bryn met him at the door with an anxious expression.

  “How is she?” he asked, though he could guess.

  “Better. Pretty shaken up, though.” She handed him a plain white bakery box.

  The grotesque cookie lay there, its gouged eye sockets staring sightlessly up at him. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” He studied the puncture wounds, noted the mouthful missing from the shoulder. Fucking weird, that someone would go to the trouble of mutilating a partially eaten cookie. It had to be deliberate.

  He told Bryn to put it away in case they needed it for evidence later on, then found Christa huddled on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, Jake at her feet. Her eyes filled with relief when she saw him.

  “Hi,” she whispered. The shadows under her eyes seemed even darker in her pale face.

  “Hi.” He sat next to her and pulled her close. “Feeling better?”

  She gave a slight nod against his shoulder, fingers fretting with the edge of the blanket. “Do you think he followed us here? Maybe saw me leaving with Bryn this morning and thought I was staying here?”

  He wanted to put her mind at ease, but he had no explanation for it and didn’t want to lie to her. “I don’t know, darlin’, but I highly doubt it. To get across the border he’d have to have a fake passport—”

  “Which is possible.”

  “Possible, but not likely. I think this was his way of reminding you he’s still out there.” He could have left the package himself, but that meant he’d have had to clear customs at the border and stay close enough to monitor their activities. No way. Too risky, and Rayne would have noticed someone watching them. However, the guy could have done it without risking capture. Maybe he’d somehow traced them through phone or credit card records. He could have found Bryn’s address that way, then phoned down and had it delivered. But then, what sort of bakery would deliver a mutilated cookie, even if the customer tried to convince them it was a joke?

  His phone rang. He sat up and checked the ID. “Hey, Nate.” He met Christa’s gaze, waited for the news.

  “Customs confirmed “Seth” Sutherland has not crossed the border. Not by foot, bicycle, plane, car, bus or ferry, so unless he found a way to beam himself to Lincoln City, he’s still up here.”

  “He hasn’t crossed the border,” he relayed to Christa, and she sagged against the cushions. He squeezed her hand. “That’s good news.”

  “Yeah,” Nate agreed. “But if he didn’t follow you, how did he do it? Did he trace your phone calls?”

  “Maybe. Could have hacked into my account, or intercepted my mail I guess. It’s all I can think of.”

  “And then Fed-Exed the package down?”

  “No, it wasn’t couriered. He must have ordered it down here somewhere.”

  “I can’t wait to nail this guy’s ass.”

  Rayne grunted. “Take a number.”

  “I’ll check out the bakeries in the area, see if I can find out anything more. How’s Christa holding up?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  Nate grunted. “All right, that’s all for now, but I’ll keep in touch. Tell Christa we’re on top of everything.”

  “Will do.” He set his phone down and blew out a breath, glanced down at her. “That’s a relief.”

  “No kidding.” Sighing, she rolled her neck around, looked over at Bryn standing in the doorway.

  “Want some hot cider or something?” Bryn asked.

  “That would be great, thanks,” Christa said.

  He studied Christa’s profile, the warm imprint of her body burning through the layers of cloth separating them. So strong, to bear all this and not break into a million pieces. She continually impressed him with her courage. He kissed the top of her head. “You stay here and relax for a while and I’ll help Bryn.”

  The warmth in her grateful smile wrapped around his heart like a fist.

  ****

  When he followed Bryn back into the living room carrying a tray of steaming mugs a few minutes later, he stopped dead at the sight of her, staring, and Christa realized the blanket had been hiding her hair. “You cut your hair,” he blurted.

  She pushed the blanket off her shoulders and fingered the chin-length bob. “I was having a moment,” she confessed as he set the tray down.

  He stroked where the sweep of hair touched the curve of her jaw, leaving tingles in his wake. “I like it.”

  “She’s been thinking of doing it for forever,” Bryn piped up, “so I encouraged her, and took her to a stylist friend of mine. A few snips and she’s a new woman.”

  Christa spared him an uncomfortable glance. “My long hair was so much trouble. And this way no one will ever be able to grab me by my braid.”

  He seemed to struggle to speak for a moment. “You look gorgeous.”

  The compliment warmed her all the way to her toes, even more than the cider. After drinking it she felt much better. The icy terror was gone, replaced with confidence her attacker was still across the border, and that she was safe while in Rayne’s care. The gingerbread man had been a hideous reminder of what he’d already done to her, what he’d like to do to her. But for now, anyway, she was safe.

  Safe and on vacation with a gorgeous man, and she was damn well going to enjoy the rest of it. No way would she let today’s gruesome incident set her back.

  Rayne and Bryn were wonderful with her, letting her quietly gather her nerves and then drawing her into more lighthearted conversation to take her mind off the incident. A couple of hours later when Rayne asked if she felt up to walking home, she agreed. She could use some fresh air, and they’d pick up the rental car here tomorrow.

  They said goodbye to Bryn and started up the beach toward Nate’s place, tossing sticks into the foaming surf for Jake, who plunged into the chilly water without a care and raced back to them sopping wet, prize clenched between his teeth. The tide was out, leaving bands of seaweed and driftwood washed up in tangles of green and gray ribbon. Gulls winged overhead in the cerulean sky, gliding past wisp-soft clouds in the salty breeze. Children laughed and splashed in the waves, chasing rainbow colored kites carried on gusts of wind, while parents sat on blankets with picnic hampers as they supervised the construction of sandcastles.

  Rayne slid his arm around her shoulders, as if trying to accustom her to the contact without scaring her. She appreciated his concern, but he didn’t need to treat her like she was made of spun glass. It wasn’t his touch that frightened her, especially after spending the night in his bed with him wrapped around her like a living blanket. She was afraid taking things to the next level would trigger the memories of the attack and ruin everything.


  She remained acutely aware of the warmth and strength of that hand on her bare flesh, her skin buzzing with sensation. She dug into her bag and took a bite of the caramel apple she’d treated herself to.

  “So did y’all have a good time shopping?” he asked, gliding his hand down her arm to catch her free hand, lacing their fingers together.

  “Mm-hmm,” she replied around another mouthful of caramel. It stuck to the corner of her mouth and she licked it away, the cut in her lip stinging a little. She covered the wince as he watched her with something close to amused adoration.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “You missed a spot.”

  She went to wipe it with her hand but he caught her fingers in his.

  “Let me.” He brought both hands up to cup her face, bent his head and touched his lips to the side of her mouth, absorbing the jolt that went through her. Her hands flattened against his chest, the caramel apple falling to the sand at her feet.

  “Rayne?” Her heart stuttered. She wanted this so badly but was so afraid it wouldn’t work out.

  “Hmm?” he murmured, nibbling at the caramel, a grin tugging at his lips.

  “What are you doing?” Her face was burning up between his hands. If he was teasing her again, she’d die.

  “Giving you a second to get used to how this feels,” he whispered, “so you don’t panic when I kiss you for real.”

  “Oh...”

  He skimmed his thumbs across her cheekbones and brushed his lips over hers, testing, asking, as if he could feel the nervousness warring inside her, her body tensed for flight.

  This is Rayne, and he cares about you, keeps you safe. She held her ground as he lowered his head and kissed her slowly, adjusting the angle and pressure of his mouth until she rewarded him with a gasp, her fingers digging into his shirt. Her heart beat so hard and fast she was afraid it might stop. His mouth coaxed hers in a slow, delicious seduction that made her toes curl in her sandals. His tongue slid across her bottom lip, then stroked inside to tease hers. The roar of heat rushed through her body to the pit of her stomach, stunning her, left her reeling for breath and balance. Her shaking hands gripped his shirt as though it was a lifeline. He released her mouth, pulled back just enough to give her room to breathe, and gazed down into her face.

  His eyes blazed with pure, undiluted hunger. “I always knew you’d taste that good.”

  God. If he kissed her like that again she wouldn’t be able to stop.

  ****

  Rayne let go of her hand at the back door while she toweled Jake off, so starved for her he could hardly think straight. God. He wanted to back her up against the door and kiss her until she let out that little gasp and dug her fingers into him again, until her knees gave out and she slid to the floor. Beneath him.

  Since that would scare the living hell out of her, he busied himself putting away the dishes, the mundane chore clearing his head. She came into the kitchen and washed her hands, flashing him a brief, secret smile. That haircut was damned sexy on her. It made her eyes look even bigger, bluer somehow. He could drown in them.

  Blushing under his hungry stare, she removed a box from her bag and held it out to him. “I got you something.”

  “What for?” The last thing he wanted was for her to feel indebted to him.

  “Just because.”

  He opened the velvet box to reveal a medallion. Stunned, he lifted the gold chain from its satin bed, rubbing his thumb over the image.

  “They didn’t have any Saint Christophers,” she explained, her heart in her eyes, “but this is Saint Michael, the patron saint of police officers, so I thought it would be even better. I had it engraved on the back.” He turned it over in his fingers.

  To my knight in shining armor. May this always keep you safe from any dangers you face. Love, Christa.

  He stared at it in wonder, blown away that she’d remembered the story about his mom’s gift to his father.

  “I wanted to give you this because, through everything—” Her voice thickened, and she swallowed. “Through everything that’s happened, you’ve been there for me every single time I needed you. Including today. I wanted you to know what it means to me.”

  He gazed down into her earnest face, let himself tumble into the wide blue pools of her eyes.

  She reached up to hug him, turning her face into his throat. “So that makes you my hero, Rayne. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

  “Chris...” he said into her hair. “Babe, I’ll always be there.” He pulled back to meet her gaze, made sure she knew he meant it.

  She blinked away the moisture, ventured a hesitant smile. “So, do you like it?”

  He couldn’t bring himself to say she shouldn’t have bought him anything, not when she was looking up at him with such heartbreaking uncertainty. “I love it. Put it on me.” He stood still while she reached around his neck to clasp the chain, breathing in the freshness of her hair and tingling at the brush of her fingers against the nape of his neck. It was all he could do to stop himself from burying his face in the curve of her neck or kissing her breathless. Instead he smoothed a hand over the crown of her head and said, “Thank you.”

  He let his hand rest there, unwilling to stop touching her in even that small way, convinced his chest would explode. Eventually he gave in and leaned down to kiss her, just a slow taste of her, enough to make their breath shorten.

  His cell phone buzzed on his belt. Leave it. Her lips were so warm and welcoming. No, it might be important. Tearing himself from her, he checked the caller ID.

  He held her questioning gaze. “Hey, Nate. What’s up?”

  “Just wanted to give you an update.”

  “Okay.” He kept his expression impassive. “Shoot.”

  “We’ve received a few solid leads, alleged sightings of him at the ballpark and Christa’s place, cruising around her friend’s neighborhood and so on, but so far none have panned out. And still no evidence to suggest he’s crossed the border.”

  Damn. Why did he keep thinking it was going to be simple?

  “And there’s something else...”

  “What?” He stroked his thumb over her cheek to reassure her, then stared out the window so she couldn’t see his face in case it was bad news.

  “That cold case homicide a couple years ago. A TV reporter, tied up in the back of a vehicle and raped. She identified Sutherland before she went in to surgery for multiple stab wounds and died on the table. Turns out she tried to get a restraining order against a stalker weeks before the attack, but didn’t have enough on him to obtain it. Sound familiar?”

  “Yeah.” Very. And now that goddamn cookie with its sightless eyes and puncture marks made him want to throw up. “It was him?”

  “According to the profiler we’ve been working with, Sutherland matches the suspect’s profile. White male between twenty-five and thirty-five, seems normal, even friendly to his victims. A neat-freak, almost obsessive-compulsive, needs routine to feel in control. Motivated by power, like most rapists, not sex. Apparently our guy’s a real genius with computers, electronic stuff, so he could have hacked into Christa’s alarm service provider’s database and gotten her entry code, and he could have found your cell phone or credit card records, which would explain today’s little adventure. We figure he’s into some kind of tech support, the sort of thing he could do from home over the phone to keep contact with people to a minimum. A smart bastard, holds two degrees, one in computer science and the other...the other’s a double major in criminology and psych.”

  So that’s what was up with all the mind games. And why he was so hard for the cops to pin down.

  “And that’s not all. Turns out he had a fucked-up childhood. Abused, possibly sexually but certainly physically, probably by his father, mother does nothing to intervene.”

  “Sounds textbook.”

  “Pretty much, except in Sutherland’s case his step-dad was an ex-cop.”

  Rayne’s heart picked up spee
d, fingers tightening on the phone. “Really.”

  “His print pulled from that stolen SUV matches the one taken at the reporter’s murder scene, and this morning forensics made a positive match between the...uh...the bite marks.”

  Bite marks? What bite marks? He whipped around to frown at Christa. Was that what had happened to her shoulder? His heart pounded, his stomach curled. “Wait a minute—”

  “The punctures match the other victim’s wound exactly.”

  And now he knew why the cookie had been missing a bite from its shoulder. Sick to his stomach, Rayne turned away again, trying to conceal the way his muscles cramped.

  All this time he’d assumed it was a knife wound, but the bastard had taken a chunk out of her with his teeth.

  He swallowed the bile in his throat.

  “Thing is, Hutch, so far Christa’s the only one we know of who’s tangled with this guy and lived to tell us about it. He’s a slick bastard, not the type to leave loose ends, so—”

  “I got it.” He didn’t need to hear the words. His guts clenched.

  “I’ve already assembled a task force. We’re doing everything we can, but both of you be careful, you hear?”

  “Yeah. I’ll tell her. Thanks for calling.”

  Damn. And she was just starting to deal with the fallout.

  When he was sure his expression was composed, he turned to face her. She was watching him, face pale, gnawing on her lower lip.

  So it hadn’t only been rape she’d avoided that night. If her neighbor hadn’t been so conscientious she’d be six feet underground right now. And now her attacker would do everything in his power to make sure she couldn’t ID him.

  “What?” she demanded, her eyes troubled. “What did he say?”

  He set the phone down and gathered her against him, her warmth chasing away the chill of fear inside him. He wanted to know about the bite mark but couldn’t bring himself to ask. As calmly as he could he broke the news about the investigation, holding her close while she absorbed the shock of it.

  She pulled back and gazed up into his eyes, the fear there eating at him like acid. “But if it’s true he killed that other woman, and I’m the only one who’s survived, then...” The horror dawned, her pupils constricting.