by C. J. Pinard
I found the freeway entrance easily enough, and once the little car was cruising along at the speed limit, I set the cruise control to ease the pain in my leg. I quickly flipped on the radio to fill the deafening silence. Some sort of classic rock station was playing and Rayanne looked at the radio, then at me. Before I could ask her what she wanted to listen to, her head turned back to face the window and she continued to gaze out of it.
“You can listen to whatever you want. The quiet makes me crazy so I just needed to find something,” I said, not sure why I felt the need to justify my actions.
She glanced at me again and said, “It’s fine, Duke. I don’t care what we listen to.”
I could immediately tell that was a lie. She probably hated the radio station I’d chosen, and if she wanted to lie, well then she could deal with it. I leaned over and turned it up louder.
Once again glancing at the radio, she then looked at me through her sunglasses. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”
I threw her a smirk and ran my hand over my beard. “I can’t tell you that, Blondie. Top secret and all that.”
“I see,” she replied. She then quickly snatched the paper from my lap and studied it. “Pembroke, Virginia? Seriously?”
I grabbed it out of her hand, more pissed off at myself than her for not keeping the paper in my pocket. “I’m gonna have to take your cell phone now that you know where we’re headed.” I held out my hand, but she didn’t move.
Instead, she scoffed and continued to look out the window. “There’s no data on my phone, and as you can see, I’m not texting or calling anyone, so maybe you should calm the hell down and stop acting so cryptic, Cowboy. Besides, it’s in the trunk.”
Who does this chick think she is? Does she have no regard for her life? Doesn’t she know I’m supposed to be protecting her? She’s acting like I’m some sort of intrusion in her life, like she didn’t ask for this detail.
As the small car headed toward the interstate and began cruising at a comfortable but boring speed, I thought – maybe she hadn’t asked for this. Maybe she didn’t want this. But why not? Yes, it’s an intrusion, but if the government hadn’t intervened, she might already be dead by now. Dead. That’s not an option. Glancing at her though the corner of my eye, her face gazing out of her window, I grew frustrated that I couldn’t get a good read on her.
Just talk to her, you dumbass, my subconscious barked at me.
Go fuck yourself, the logical part of my brain rebutted.
Shaking my head at the ridiculous internal battle, I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out my can of chew. With one hand on the steering wheel, I shoved a big pinch of the snuff into my bottom lip and smiled as the nicotine did its job to quell my twitchy withdrawal.
Chapter 8
Rayanne
My teeth ground together as I stared out the window. Breathing in deep and then blowing it out without trying to sound like a drama queen, I watched the landscape pass in a blur. Ten days, Rayanne. Ten days to endure this asshole and this inconvenience and disruption of your life, and you can go back to it. I’ll testify against the Watsons and then have a life again. I’ll just try to ignore this Neanderthal who’s been sent to babysit me. He’ll be gone as soon as the trial was over.
I chanced a glance at him as I thought about his gruff attitude. His right hand was on his thigh and when I looked closer, I could see him gently massaging the area. I found this strange, and I became a little bit curious about him. My eyes traveled up to his belt where a black T-shirt hugged his flat stomach. The shirt’s arm holes were stretched against his massive arms, the material looking like it might rip under the strain. His neck was also muscular, his Adam’s apple the prominent prelude that led to a strong jaw covered in that dark, sexy beard. I’m not a big fan of beards but it was just clean enough to where I found my fingers twitching, wondering what it would feel like beneath my fingertips. His cheekbones were strong and led to untrusting eyes that cautiously watched the road. I sort of felt like asking him a question so he’d look at me and I could see into his eyes again, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to. I wanted to laugh at my own ridiculousness.
A few more minutes passed, and suddenly he spoke, that infuriatingly low, smoky voice permeating the car. “Why don’t you tell me about how you got yourself into this predicament.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather, a demand.
Feeling offended but not sure I really should be, I huffed and said, “I didn’t do anything. I went to work and came home every day. Collected a paycheck and did what my bosses wanted. I didn’t ask for any of this.” I hadn’t bothered to move my face away from the window, even though I had wanted to.
Duke chuckled. “Okay, Blondie. Let me rephrase. Why do you think you’re under the government’s protection right now?”
What the hell kind of question was that? Did he not know? I answered, sarcasm dripping all over my tone. “What? You don’t know? Someone’s trying to kill me.”
He shot back quickly. “You mean, someone has allegedly been hired to kill you. There is a huge difference. You know that, right?”
I let his words sink in and realized the bastard was sort of right. “Okay, you have a point. So why are you here, then?”
Taking a brown and white paper cup from the cup holder, he spewed some brown chew into it, and I wrinkled my nose. “Just in case that coward makes good on his death threat, sweetheart.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Really? You gonna take a bullet for me?”
“That’s what the government pays me to do,” he replied dryly.
Snorting, I replied, “Nobody could pay me enough to take a bullet for someone else.”
Throwing me a sideways glance, Duke smirked. “Might break a nail?”
“Very funny. I just don’t understand how you do that job.”
He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes on the mundane landscape as it blurred past. “Special Agent with the FBI is a badass job. Don’t discredit it. I love my fuckin’ job.”
“You willing to die for your ‘job’?” I asked my arms folded over my chest.
“Yes. It’s no different than the military, really. I’ve belonged to the government since I was eighteen years old. It’s all I know.”
Wow. Freaking really? Has this guy ever had any fun?
His hand was still on his thigh so I asked “What’s wrong with your leg? Cramp?”
Without looking at me, he grunted, “Something like that.”
I huffed and gave up having a conversation with this guy.
But then he spoke again. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You asked how I got myself into this predicament, and I answered by telling you that I didn’t.”
He reached over and turned the A/C up higher, and that annoyed me. Not only had he not asked if I was comfortable with the temperature, I was already getting cold from having it up so high. How could he still be hot? Was this guy a werewolf? I shivered and caught him looking at me from the corner of his eye.
“Well, do you remember what you could have done at their company that got them indicted on some very serious charges?”
I stared at him in horror. “What are you implying? That I did something illegal to get them in trouble? Because I didn’t.”
He chuckled, and it was deep and rumbly. I was pissed off at myself at how sexy it sounded in my ears. “No, because if you had, you’d be indicted right along with them. I just mean, what kind of shady financial business practices were they involved in?”
I felt tears build behind my eyes but I didn’t want to cry in front of him. His question had hit a nerve because it was the same question I had asked myself no less than a thousand times since this nightmare started. “I don’t know,” was the only thing I could muster up, and then I turned my head back to face the window.
He never responded after that, and silence filled the car for hours. I remembered I had a paperback in my purse and I pulled it out, attempting to get lost in some
historical romance that hopefully had a happier ending than the horror story I currently found myself in.
After what seemed like forever, we finally reached the small town in Virginia. We'd nearly gotten lost twice from having to use a paper map. The small road we turned on was so tiny and dark, I could easily see how it might get missed. Nighttime blanketed the clear country sky, a smattering of stars overhead and a half moon the only thing illuminating our path. The tires of the small car crunched and bumped over a gravel road until the headlights of our sports car illuminated a small gray house at the end of the path. My eyes traveled up to its worn-looking roof and down to the chipped paint that once coated the entire thing. The wrap-around porch did not look safe to step on, and its yellowed and cloudy windows definitely looked in need of replacement. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of it.
The road leading to it had been lined with large oak trees, and the house was no different. Large, gnarly branches reached out and seemed to want to possess the house. I suppressed a shudder and stared at the tiny dwelling.
“We’re staying here?”
Nodding, Duke put the car in gear but left it running. I watched curiously as he pulled a handgun from an ankle holster under his jeans I didn’t know was there. As he checked it for bullets, he said, “Stay in the car.”
I wanted nothing more than to get out and stretch my legs, but I’d learned over the past 12 hours to not argue with the guy. I mean, I wanted to argue because he was just a big asshole, but I was too tired. Plus he’d sounded a little stressed as he said it.
With the headlights still illuminating the small house, I watched as he stealthily walked up the three front porch steps and made his way to the front door. He checked the knob and then pulled a key from his pocket.
Duke entered quickly and was out just as fast. His eyes locked on mine as he left the house and a look passed over his face that I could only describe as relief. He made his way to the trunk and pulled out our bags, closed it, then went to the driver’s side to turn the engine off. As he was doing this, he grunted, “You can get out now. Go inside the house.”
I wanted to salute him and say, “Yes, sir,” but he didn’t seem as though he wanted to be messed with. He locked the car and sort of ushered me into the house, closing and locking the door behind us before he flipped on the lights, and typed numbers into a small keypad set next to the door I assumed was a home security system.
Holy mother of crap. If I thought the outside was bad, the inside was just… scary. Even though the furniture was covered in white sheets, and everything was relatively clean, I could see that nothing in this house was from this century. The carpet was multicolored gold and green, and lifting my eyes to the doorway that led to the kitchen was a huge mistake. Suddenly, I was in an episode of The Brady Bunch. Oh, my God… 70s décor everywhere.
I turned to say something smart to Duke and saw he was looking at a small hallway off behind the kitchen. He went and made his way toward it, and I followed. I gasped in horror to see two bedrooms, both with sheets covering the furniture.
“Pick a room, princess.” Was all he said.
One room had a double-sized bed and the other had a king… or maybe it was a queen. Being the nice person I am, I chose the double because Duke was, well, like twice the size of me.
“I’ll take this one,” I murmured and wandered into it. I pulled the sheet back and coughed as a plume of dust billowed into the air. I was greeted with a blue and purple bedspread with a zigzag pattern across it.
Shaking my head, I set my bag down and went to find Duke. He was in the kitchen, pulling open the oven, and then the little microwave set on the counter like he was searching for something.
“You’ve got to be kidding me with these… accommodations,” I spat, my arms folded over my chest.
He closed the oven door and stood up straight. Piercing me with his dark blue eyes, he said, “I’m sorry it’s not a 5-star hotel, but keeping you alive isn’t all about comfort. So get over it.”
I bristled as his words, but I had already learned not to let him see me upset. “Duke, what is this place? I mean, it looks as though nobody’s set foot in it in decades.”
He walked toward me and got within inches of my face. Looking down at me with those eyes, he said, “It’s a safe house. Bureau keeps them all over the country. They literally choose one at random and this was your lucky draw, Blondie.”
Now he was pissing me off. “I have a name. It’s Rayanne Mari Lynch. You could at least try using it. You can even call me Ray, if that’s easier for you.”
“What the hell kind of name is Rayanne anyway?” he asked.
“Dad’s name is Ray, mom’s name is Annebelle.”
His eyes still locked on mine, I saw a small amount of amusement dancing in them. Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he smirked at me. “Charming.”
Stomping my foot on the cracked yellow and white linoleum of the kitchen floor, I huffed and turned around, storming off to my room.
Chapter 9
Duke
Holy fuck, this prima-donna was already on my nerves. “Accommodations” – who was she kidding? She’s got a hit out on her damn life and she’s worried about some dust? It’s gonna be a long 10 days.
With a grunt of annoyance, I set my bag on the floor of my room and pulled the cover sheet back. Some psychedelic-looking bedspread all yellow and red greeted me. I threw it to the floor and set my bag on the bed. I rifled through it until I found my toothbrush and paste. Walking down the small hallway until I reached the house’s one and only bathroom, I cursed when I saw a light illuminating the cracks around the closed door. Of course it was locked.
As I was about to turn around to go back into my room, Rayanne came out wearing nothing but an aqua-colored night shirt that definitely did not leave much to the imagination. Because I’m a dude, my eyes went straight to her chest, where her hard nipples were on display, poking through the shirt.
Her arm clamped over her chest, and I brought my gaze up to hers and smiled. “It is a bit chilly in here. I’ll go find the thermostat.” But I didn’t move. I just let her narrow her light brown eyes at me.
“Excuse me?”
I watched with amusement as she stormed off to her room and slammed the door. The doorknob fell off with a clank to the wood floor and rolled in circles. Then I heard her scream in frustration, and I lost it. I was laughing so hard at her irritation, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. She was so damn uptight.
Shaking my head, I wandered through the small house until I finally found the thermostat. It was one of those old-fashioned dial types, and I had to put my face right up to it to read the numbers. Good God, it was 62 degrees in here. Turning the dial, I cranked it past 70 and heard a loud boom from somewhere in the back of the house. I immediately smelled gas. “Fuck.”
The house, which was probably more like a cabin, was one story. No upstairs, no basement. So where would a freakin’ furnace be in this house? Garage? Negative, there was no garage.
There was no way I’d sleep thinking we were gonna die of carbon monoxide poisoning, or get blown up in this old piece of shit house, so I went in search of the furnace. I finally found it off the kitchen when I heard Rayanne call out. “Duke? Did you hear that noise?”
Rolling my eyes, I barked out, “Yes, I’m on it. Go back to bed.”
I heard her mumble a curse but couldn’t make it out, nor did I care. The damn furnace had to be 30 years old. Plumes of dust were still billowing up from it. I got on the floor and looked into the bottom. I used my hand to clear away dust and cobwebs. Dammit, the pilot light was out. No wonder the thing was banging and clanging. I pushed up off the floor and decided I’d search the kitchen drawers for some matches.
A worn and faded box of long matches caught my attention on top of the furnace and I smiled. At least whoever had stayed here last had had a small bit of common sense. Grabbing the box, I struck one against the side and watched as an orange flame danced to life before my ey
es. Its heat felt good against my face and hand and I realized how truly cold it was in here. I’d been in colder situations than this, though. Most people don’t understand how fucking cold the Afghanistan desert can get at night. Trying to stay awake while on patrol was hard, but falling asleep wasn’t an option and the freezing cold sort of sobered you up.
I lay on my belly and lit the pilot light, right as a voice startled me.
“What are you doing, Cowboy?”
I slithered away from the flame, blew the match out, and stood up. I saw Rayanne standing there with her arms folded across her chest.
“I thought I told you to go back to bed.” Then my eyes went to her chest again. Dammit.
She looked slightly annoyed but held my gaze with her infuriatingly pretty eyes. It was then I noticed they had little yellow and green flecks in them.
“You did, but you’re not my father, so what’s going on in here?”
I held up the still smoldering match. “Lighting the pilot. Hopefully it’ll warm up in here.”
“Well I can’t sleep when it’s this cold.”
A million perverted thoughts and comments went racing through my brain but I clamped my teeth shut to avoid them expelling from my mouth. So instead, I did something even stupider. I moved closer to her and put my hand, which was warm from the flame, on her arm. She was freezing.
“Wow, you are cold.”
Her eyes darted down at my hand around her bicep, then up to mine, widening in surprise.
For the first time in a long time, I was rendered speechless. I swallowed hard and pulled my hand away. “I’m gonna go try to find some more blankets until it warms up in here,” I mumbled.
I left her standing in the small, old kitchen. Making my way to the narrow hallway, I found its one and only closet, so I opened it in search of more blankets. I sighed in relief when I found plenty of them folded neatly on the shelves. I pulled out four of them.
