Guarding Raine (Security Ops)

by Brant, Kylie

  For the first time in her life, Raine could physically feel her blood pressure rising. The sensation was quite incredible. She, who had spent most of her childhood doing as she was told, rarely lost her temper. She hadn’t needed to. And later, when she’d started asserting some independence from her family, she’d known intuitively that a show of anger wasn’t going to accomplish anything. But if she wasn’t mistaken, it was anger she was feeling now. More than that, really. What she felt was closer to white-hot, boiling rage.

  How dare he! Even after she’d told him repeatedly that he was to consult with her about any decisions he made, he did this! Upon the heels of that thought came the memory of the conversation they’d had about just this thing. He hadn’t given her any promises about doing as she had requested. As a matter of fact, he’d been quite rude about it. But this settled it. She and Macauley O’Neill were going to come to terms. Right now.

  “Will you excuse me?” she said distractedly to Sarah, already striding away. “I’ve got to talk to Mac about something.”

  “Sure.” Sarah waved her away and began to wander in the direction of a shirtless workman. “I can amuse myself.”

  Raine ran up the steps and into the house. She found the man she sought at the desk he’d had delivered, sitting in front of his laptop computer, speaking on his cell phone. She stalked across the room and slammed her hands on the desktop, leaning toward him. “You and I need to talk,” she said through gritted teeth. “Hang up—now.”

  He hadn’t turned at her entrance, and he spared her only a glance before continuing his conversation.

  Raines jaw clenched at his nonchalance. Here he was rearranging her whole life, and he acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He was probably busily making some other arrangements to make her life even more unbearable. “Now, Macauley,” she repeated firmly.

  He glanced at her again, and his mouth flattened in annoyance. “I’ll call you back, Trey. I have to attend to something.” He listened for a moment and then said, “Well, then you call me when you can. That’d be easier, anyway. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Those words fueled Raine’s anger. No, he wasn’t going anywhere, was he? He was staying right here, running her life and being obnoxious about the way he did it. He took his time disconnecting the call and slipping his cell back in his pocket. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” she exclaimed incredulously. “The question is, what’s your problem? Do you have a control fetish, is that it? Are you utterly incapable of following directions? Or don’t you understand English?”

  He didn’t respond, just leaned back in his chair and studied her from beneath hooded lids. His composure shredded her own even further.

  “I specifically said that you were to discuss your plans with me before you did anything,” she said, seething. “And I told you that I wanted to be the one to contact the students about staying away for a while. So will you please tell me why you felt it necessary to do it yourself?” She smacked both hands against the desktop and turned away to pace a few steps. Then she whirled back. “What is it with you, anyway?”

  Mac lazily watched her work herself into a full-blown lather. She’d had a pretty good start on it when she came storming in here. He’d expected this confrontation, though he hadn’t especially looked forward to it. But he did find it interesting watching her. Her eyes were glittering with fury and shooting gold-edged daggers at him.

  He swallowed a sigh. God save him from natural disasters and temperamental women. There wasn’t a lot a person could do about the first, but he did his best to avoid the second. That’s why, in his leisure time, he always sought out simple, uncomplicated females. They might get upset over a broken nail, but they were damn easy to distract from their disappointment. Raine Michaels was as far removed from those women as it was possible to be. Not only did she lack the voluptuous curves he looked for in a companion, she was not, by any stretch of the imagination, uncomplicated.

  “Is that what has you all hot and bothered?”

  She took a deep breath. Screaming at him was not the answer, and it wouldn’t satisfy her, anyway. She’d like to take a swing at that hard jaw. She had a feeling she was far from the first person who’d had the urge. “Why did you leave the message at the college for the students to stay away from here? I ordered you not to.”

  His eyes narrowed at her choice of words. “I don’t take orders very well,” he said in a deadly tone.

  She didn’t flinch before the threat in his voice. Nor did she retreat. “Apparently not,” she ground out. They glared into each other’s eyes for several long moments. Neither blinked until her cell rang. He retrieved it with movements made jerky with irritation. “O’Neill,” he snapped into the receiver. After a moment he said, “You’ll have to call back.” He ended the call and slipped it back into his shirt pocket.

  Her mouth firmed at the autocratic way he’d answered her phone. He hadn’t identified himself, hadn’t explained why he had her phone. “Who was that?” she demanded.

  “Klassen.”

  “Did you plan to restrict my calls, too?”

  “Until we get this ironed out, yeah,” he answered, his jaw clenching.

  “The only thing we have to iron out, is your attitude. You deliberately went against my wishes. And it better never happen again.”

  “You said you’d contact the students, but you haven’t, have you?”

  Her silence was all the answer he needed. “I wanted to talk to the professors you mentioned, so it was easy enough for me to pass the message on at the same time. Apparently you didn’t take me seriously when I told you why we needed to restrict your visitors. If you can’t see how stupid it is to allow any bozo on the street easy access to you while you’re being threatened, you need your head examined.”

  “I’m not stupid!” She hissed the words at him. “I just think you’re overreacting! I would have told the art students the next time they came out here, although it does seem pointless—I know I’m not being threatened by one of them! For heaven’s sake, what possible motive would they have?”

  “Take your pick,” he replied tersely. “Anger, envy or just plain craziness. Or it could be good, old-fashioned lust.” At her incredulous expression, he cocked an eyebrow sardonically. “Spurn any suitors lately, Raine?” He watched her sputter in response to his words.

  “I haven’t— I don’t— There aren’t— You’re nuts!” she finally finished in frustration. “You are so far off base, Macauley!”

  “Mac.” He bit out the word. “Call me Mac.”

  She ignored him and went on. “Someone saw an exhibit, saw my name on the news or picked me at random for this sick little game, but it isn’t someone I know! And it definitely isn’t one of those poor students, who probably think I’m angry at them for some unknown reason, because I doubt you bothered supplying them with a reasonable explanation!”

  “It’s done,” he said dismissively. “And it won’t be undone. I was hired to protect you the best way I can, and I don’t answer to you, Raine, I answer to your father. You’re welcome to call and complain about me, but something tells me my actions would have his wholehearted approval.”

  “If you think that commends them,” she said scathingly, “think again.”

  “It doesn’t matter. While I’m in charge here, I’ll do things my way, and if you don’t like the way I protect your dainty little ass, that’s too damn bad. Maybe when this whole thing has been solved you’ll be able to see the bigger picture.”

  “The big picture I see is of an arrogant jerk who thinks the term ‘security expert’ is synonymous with God!” she shouted.

  “Um, excuse me.” A voice spoke from the doorway.

  “What?” Mac and Raine snapped the question simultaneously.

  Sarah smiled, took one look at both their faces and said, “On second thought, I think I’ll just leave you two alone a while longer. Since you’re getting along so well and all.”

 
; She retreated, and Raine took a deep breath. No doubt their raised voices had reverberated through the house, even with the sound of the work being done there.

  “Look,” Mac said, forcing a more even tone. “I’m not saying you have to turn into a recluse. I’m just trying to limit your visitors to a small enough number that I can do an adequate job of ensuring your safety.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful that you’ve at least eliminated my closest friends from your list of suspects,” Raine replied caustically.

  Mac said nothing, just looked at her.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You don’t trust them, either.”

  “I don’t trust anyone,” he said flatly. “And neither should you. At least not until this is over.”

  Her anger began to ebb as she digested his words. They were easy enough to believe. He didn’t trust anyone, and she’d been able to tell that the moment she met him. It was in his guarded manner, his expressionless eyes. What was more difficult to understand was why that realization would make her heart ache. She’d wondered on occasion if he was capable of human emotion at all. And then she would remember the sight of him pacing her small patio in the middle of the night. Something rode this man, and that fact assured her at least that he felt something. A man totally without conscience didn’t have trouble sleeping at night.

  He was regarding her with those startling blue eyes that revealed nothing of his thoughts. He must think she was the most difficult client he’d ever had, and she couldn’t totally blame him. She knew how contradictory it seemed, her making him fight for every inch he gained in his efforts to protect her. She just didn’t know how to explain the renewed fear she felt in the process. It was as if each gain he made came at a cost to her hard-won battles against the terror of her past. Each concession she allowed made the fear stronger, her defenses weaker.

  “I understand what you’re trying to do,” she said, looking away. Her voice was almost a whisper. “But, Macauley, I made a choice a long time ago not to let a lousy experience dictate how I live. I tried it your way once, tried to go through life keeping people at a distance, to shield myself from possible hurt.” She hesitated for a moment, then met his gaze squarely. “It nearly suffocated me. I can’t live that way. It’s not who I am. And it wouldn’t guarantee that I’d be totally safe, either. There’s always a possibility that some crazy who’s going to tear my life in two is right around the corner. And if that happens, what would I have gained by not allowing anyone to get close to me all those years?”

  Something in her eyes caught his gaze, held it. She was an enigma, this woman, and he’d never much cared for enigmas. They always nagged at him until he’d figured them out. This wasn’t the first time he’d wondered about her, about what made her tick. He already knew she wasn’t a daddy’s girl, content to live off her father’s money until a suitable match came along to support her. And at times like these he was unable to assume that she was little more than a slightly ditsy artist. She sounded wise beyond her years, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with what she was saying. That ancient look was back in her eyes, the look that was a match for the darkness in his soul. And because it reminded him of things he’d much rather forget, he deliberately turned away.

  Her cell rang again then, and he answered it, his gaze returning to her. “Who is this?” he asked bluntly. After a moment, he looked at her questioningly. “Harold Bonzer?”

  She snatched the phone out of his hand. “Hello, Harold,” she said, her voice warm. She walked away from Mac, talking softly.

  He sat down in front of his desk, listening to the one-sided conversation. He was able to discern that the man had something to do with the art world. They were discussing Raine’s paintings and the upcoming show. He didn’t remember hearing the man’s name before, however. It was impossible to tell from Raine’s manner just what the man was to her. Her voice was cordial, but she seemed to treat everyone with the same warm manner. As a matter of fact, she usually behaved as though she was the hostess at some damn dinner party—except, on a few notable occasions with him.

  His lips twisted in a sardonic little smile. He’d bet Raine Michaels had experienced a broader range of emotions since he’d come into her life than she had in years, but somehow he thought she wouldn’t appreciate that fact.

  Her conversation with Harold over, Raine disconnected the call.

  “Who’s Harold Bonzer?” He held out his hand for her cell. After a brief hesitation, she handed it back to him.

  “He’s been my benefactor. I owe the success I’m enjoying largely to him. I met Harold through Sarah, when he was sponsoring a show for her, and he offered to take a look at my work.”

  “He can’t be the only reason you’re successful.” Mac surprised her, and himself, by saying it. He nodded toward her paintings on the wall. “You’re good. At least Trey seems to think so, and he knows a little about that sort of thing.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but there are lots of starving artists out there who are good,” she observed wryly. “I’m lucky Harold took a liking to my work. I don’t think André would have been interested in me otherwise.”

  “Just what does a benefactor do?” he asked, leaning back in his desk chair.

  “Harold got me hooked up with André. Together they arranged a show for me at a local gallery.” She shrugged. “Some of my things started to sell. It helped that people knew Harold Bonzer was buying my paintings himself. He’s a well-known name in the art world, and when he takes an interest in an artist, it usually helps launch a career.”

  “What about Sarah Jennings? Did he help launch her career, too?”

  Raine nodded. “He’s helped get her shown, and she’s doing very well. She’s had it kind of tough. She’s been raising her brother since her parents died.”

  “How did Sarah feel when her benefactor started taking an interest in you?”

  Her gaze flew to his, startled anew at his perception. “I think,” she responded slowly, “that it hurt her feelings at first. But she’s okay with it now. And she had a show last year that he was instrumental in arranging. Of course, she’s a very talented sculptor. That’s one of her pieces on the mantel.”

  Mac’s gaze flicked in the direction she indicated, then to her. “Where’s Bonzer live?”

  “In L.A.”

  “Mac.” They both turned when they heard the voice. One of the workers stood in the doorway, Raine’s mail in his gloved hands. “I thought you’d want to take a look at this.”

  “Bring it over here and put it down, Mike.” The man obeyed, while Mac pulled open a desk drawer and withdrew a pair of plastic gloves. He drew them on, then flipped through the mail deliberately. He handed all of it to Raine except for one long envelope.

  She peered over his shoulder. “It has a postmark,” she said, half to herself.

  “But no return address.” Mac looked at the man. “Thanks, Mike.” The man nodded and left the room. Mac opened the letter cautiously and withdrew the single sheet of paper.

  The room seemed to grow eerily quiet. Even the hammering outside had momentarily stilled. From the corner of the room, the ticking of the grandfather clock seemed intrusively loud. Raine’s heartbeat sped up until she was convinced that the sound of its pounding was discernible in the near silence. Her palms grew clammy, and she had to force herself to watch over Mac’s shoulder as he unfolded the letter. Time crawled interminably as he unfolded it once, and then again.

  Her breath came out in a rush, the first she’d been aware that she’d been holding it. “An invitation to visit my aunt’s cottage in Maine,” she said, aware of the note of relief in her voice. Now that the moment was over, her foreboding seemed silly. “Pretty dangerous.”

  Mac folded the letter up, then handed it and the envelope to her. `Not this time,” he reminded her soberly.

  She stared at him silently, reading his meaning. No, not this time. And maybe not the next. But one of these days, another t
hreat would arrive, couched in terms just a bit more sinister than the last. That certainty remained unspoken between them.

  His cell rang then, and Raine turned as he answered it. She wandered away from the desk to stare sightlessly out the front window. The bright California sunshine, the lush green grass, the walnut trees on the edge of her property—they all seemed so ordinary. Cars drove by occasionally on the ribbon of road in the distance, and with even less frequency on the road in front of her place. Even the men working outside could seem harmless, as if they were involved in a normal construction job, if she didn’t know the events that had triggered their presence here.

  Her eyes went toward the line of trees. They signaled the end of her property line. She had five acres, most of it covered with a soft blanket of green grass, and it was an open invitation to bare feet. As a child she’d loved to slip her shoes and socks off and just run, flat out, as fast as she could on just such a stretch of grass. She’d run as far and as hard as possible, until she would drop, panting and laughing, into the grass. Then she’d roll to her back and watch the clouds float by until she got enough breath to do it again.

  She’d tried that when she was older, when she felt weighted by problems with no solutions except those that would come from within. But the feeling wouldn’t die that she’d been running away from something, something she carried with her always. The day she’d finally faced that fact was the last time she’d indulged in that particular fancy.

  Aware that Mac had hung up, she turned to him quizzically.

  “That was Trey,” he said soberly. “He had some information for me, and I’m sure you’re not going to like it. You may as well come over and sit down.”

  She didn’t immediately obey. Anything Macauley thought she wasn’t going to like, she was pretty sure she was really going to hate, and she was suddenly loath to hear it. She ran a hand over her hair in an unconsciously nervous gesture. Then, biting her lip, she drew herself up straighter and headed over to him.