Reyn's Redemption

by Beth Cornelison

  Wham!

  She jerked as the other car crashed into her again with a crunch of metal. She blinked back tears that blurred her vision. She had to stay calm and keep her head. Her life depended on maintaining control. Ahead, she saw a turn in the road and gripped the wheel, ready to negotiate the curve and battle the lunatic for a place on the highway.

  With a screech of rubber, the sedan zoomed past her, cutting her off, just as they entered the turn. Olivia cut her wheels to avoid hitting the other car, but a deep puddle on the road destroyed her traction. Her car spun out of control, skidding toward the waterlogged ditch at the side of the highway. Panicked, she stood on her brakes. But, with a lurch, her Chevette dove front-end into the ditch and came to a jarring halt. Her head banged the steering wheel, and her knees bumped the underside of the dash with a whack.

  Trembling, she raised her head and watched the sedan’s taillights disappear down the road. She knew with an eerie certainty that the driver would be back. To see if she was dead.

  And to finish the job if she wasn’t.

  Throwing the Chevette in reverse, Olivia gunned the engine. Whirring and grinding, her wheels spun. But she went nowhere. The Chevette was stuck. Probably a complete loss.

  She swallowed the whimper of fear that rose in her throat and struggled for a calming breath. She had to get out of there before the killer came back. Abandoning her car, her textbooks, she grabbed her purse, pried open the door and crawled out into the knee-deep quagmire in the ditch. Mud sucked at her shoes as she grappled through the marsh toward higher ground at the edge of the woods. Lila’s house and Reyn were less than a mile back down the highway. But along the side of the road, she was an easy target when the killer returned.

  As if summoned by that thought, she heard the rumble of a car engine. She splashed through the water, out of the ditch and scrambled for the cover of the trees.

  Praying that she could find her way in the darkness, she headed through the woods toward Lila’s house. Toward the safety of Reyn’s arms.

  Headlights sliced through the shadowy woods, and she darted behind a tree as the car on the road slowed. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, counting the interminable seconds while the killer searched the interior of her car. Please, don’t let him come looking for me. Please let him drive away.

  A flashlight beam flickered across the trees around her. She held her breath, pressing her back against the prickly trunk of a large pine. A car door slammed, and she heard the sedan vroom away.

  Olivia wilted as her muscles relaxed. Cold rain trickled down her face, mingled with hot tears of relief. She’d escaped. For now.

  But she was sure the killer wouldn’t give up. He’d come after her again. She shivered at the thought and started running through the black woods.

  Next time, she might not be as lucky.

  Chapter Eleven

  Reyn stared out the kitchen window, watching the rain fall, seeing nothing. His conversation with Gram echoed in his mind, haunted him. She said you deserved a father, and she was tired of waiting for him to claim you.

  His father.

  His whole life he’d gone without knowing the man who’d given him life. Long ago he’d accepted the fact that he’d probably never know him. The idea that his father could be the same man who killed his mother made him burn with hatred and disgust.

  He now had what was likely the last piece of information that would make everything else fit. Hannah would know who his father was. He was sure of it. His gut told him he could resolve the questions surrounding his mother’s death with one name. His father’s name. But here he stood.

  Because he didn’t want to know.

  He wasn’t ready to learn the truth about the man who’d turned his back on his own son. He didn’t want to hear the lurid details of his mother’s affair and how this man had abandoned her and her baby. He didn’t want to know how his birth had complicated his mother’s life and possibly ruined her chance to be with the man she loved. Pain like a dull knife in his chest slashed through him.

  Coward, the demon in his head shouted.

  Jamming the heels of his hands to his eyes, he tried to mute the voice of his tormenting doubt.

  At first, when the soft knock sounded at the front door he thought he’d imagined it. His mind was playing more tricks on him, like the cackle of the demon’s taunting laughter. Coward.

  Then he heard the quiet rapping again and dropped his hands from his eyes.

  Puzzled over who would come to see him at this late hour on such a stormy night, he headed to the foyer to answer the knock.

  When he opened the door, he met a wide, golden gaze.

  “Olivia? What—” He stopped short, stunned by her appearance.

  Dripping wet, hugging her elbows, and visibly shaking, she stared back at him with red-rimmed eyes, eyes shadowed with fear. Her chin trembled when she tried to speak. “R-R-Reyn.”

  Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. His chest clenched.

  “Dear God,” he muttered, taking her by the arm and pulling her, stumbling, into his arms. “What happened?”

  She nestled into his embrace with a mewling sound that clawed at his heart. He kicked the door closed and stroked a hand down her soaked back.

  “Olivia, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “H-He tried to k-kill me. He r-rammed my car. Ran me off the r-road.”

  Ice ran through his veins. He clutched her shoulders and pushed her back to look in her eyes. “Who? Are you all right?”

  Even as he asked, he scanned the length of her quivering body to assure himself she was okay. On the heels of his concern came anger. With the bastard who’d tried to hurt her. And with himself.

  “Damn. I should never have let you go to class alone.” He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed, cursing his lapse in judgment. He’d sworn to protect her, and he’d failed. Self-reproach coursed through him and swirled in his gut. He drew her back into his arms, wrapping himself around her shivering body. Too little, too late. He should have been there…

  She shook her head as if reading his mind. “But Lila n-needed you. Family comes first.”

  Family. The word reverberated in a lonely, empty place inside him.

  Not until Olivia curled cold fingers against his bare chest did he realize he’d never put on more than a pair of shorts after his shower. Cool water dripped off her hair and clothes and collected on the floor at their feet. As he hugged her, the puddle grew and seeped under his toes. Her rain-soaked clothes squished against him, soaking his shorts and sending icy rivulets trickling down his own body. The air conditioning vent blew frigid air on his damp skin.

  But he was on fire.

  His temper flamed with fury toward the man who’d dared to go after Olivia. He burned with shame for having let her down, having shirked his duty to protect. But mostly, his blood heated with the need to possess the woman in his arms. The soft press of her body, tucked perfectly in line with his, sparked all the desires he’d been fighting since the day beside the lake. His body remembered too well her silky skin, her honeyed scent, her erotic moans and cinnamon-sweet kiss. This latest attempt on her life ignited a possessiveness he’d never felt toward a woman before. And it bothered him.

  “He’ll try again. I know he will,” Olivia whispered, her breath a warm caress on his skin.

  He knew she was right and clenched his jaw in frustration. “Did you get a look at the guy? Did you recognize him or the car?” he asked, levering her back a bit to see her face.

  “No. A light-colored sedan of some kind, but…I didn’t recognize it. It was too dark to…see who was driving. I didn’t—” Her voice broke, and he pulled her back into his arms.

  “Shh. Easy. You’re okay now.” He stroked her hair and rubbed his cheek across the top of her head.

  She didn’t know who had run her off the road. But he did. The same man who’d killed his mother. The same man who’d hidden his dirty secret from the town for years.

>   His father.

  A shudder raced through him, and Olivia tipped her head back to look at him. “Reyn?”

  He tightened his hold on her. Sinking his fingers into her thick, soft hair, he anchored her head to his chest, kissed her temple. “You, ah…you should get a hot shower to warm up. And something to drink. Coffee maybe.” The delicate skin of her cheek against his chest felt like satin, and he didn’t want to let her go. But she was deeply chilled and needed to get warm.

  He released her, and she stepped back, chafing her arms. “I am kinda cold.”

  “I’ll fix the coffee. You go on upstairs and get out of those wet clothes. You can use the guest room shower, and I’ll find you clean towels and something dry to wear.”

  Her lips curved in a faint, sad smile, just enough to play havoc with his already swirling emotions. He balled his fists and took a deep breath to stop himself from grabbing her back into his arms and kissing that glimmer of a smile. But he knew if he kissed her once, he wouldn’t stop until he’d done a whole lot more than kiss her.

  He wanted to erase the cold fear from her eyes and watch pleasure warm her face as he made slow, sweet love to her. He wanted to drown out the voice of doubts in his head with the sound of her seductive sighs. He wanted to blot out the nightmarish events of the past several days and his dread of what lay ahead, languishing in the sensual ecstasy promised by her kiss.

  “I should go home. I…I didn’t go earlier, because I didn’t want to lead the danger back to Katy and Hank. I—”

  “Good thinking. But tonight at least, you’re staying here.”

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.

  “No arguments. I’ll call Hank and the sheriff while you shower, but I want you where I can keep an eye on you. I have a lead on who might be behind all this, and with a little luck, I can wrap this whole thing up tomorrow.”

  She lifted her eyebrows in interest. “What did you learn?”

  He waved her off. “We’ll talk about it later. Go on and get your shower.”

  She hesitated only a moment, frowning at being put off, before she climbed the stairs and disappeared down the hall.

  In the kitchen, Reyn started a pot of coffee brewing and found a bottle of bourbon Gram used for making bourbon balls at Christmas. He splashed a little of the liquor in Olivia’s coffee and downed a shot for himself straight.

  He heard the shower running upstairs and tried not to think about Olivia standing in the same shower he’d used an hour ago, her body slick with soap, water running down her pale, bare skin.

  Groaning, he drank another shot of bourbon and savored the bite as it slid down his throat. He carried her coffee up to her and dug in his drawer for a clean T-shirt for her and dry shorts for himself. He walked into the steamy bathroom and found a towel in the linen closet for her and set it on the counter next to her coffee.

  “Reyn? Is that you?” The shower curtain rustled, and she peeked around the edge.

  “Just getting out your towel.” He picked up the towel again and stepped closer to hand it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, reaching for it. The curtain drooped, and he glimpsed the curve of her breast.

  His mouth went dry. Oh Lord.

  He edged toward the door, his heart thumping, his body thrumming. Get out, Erikson. Walk away.

  “I put a shirt on the bed for you.” Did she hear the rasp in his voice that he did? “Call if you need anything else.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Olivia came down the stairs ten minutes later. Reyn had tried to read a magazine but found himself re-reading the same paragraph over and over again. His mind was on Olivia, her brush with the killer tonight, Gram’s hypothesis about the killer’s motive.

  She padded, barefooted, into the living room and stopped in the middle of the floor, holding her mug of coffee. “What did you put in this?”

  His T-shirt hung to her knees, the shoulders sagging to her elbows. But for all its size, the shirt’s thin fabric still revealed far more than he’d imagined it would. The light from the kitchen shone through the material from behind her, silhouetting her slim waist and rounded hips. Her nipples pressed against the front of the T-shirt, and the neckline slid down, off one shoulder.

  He dragged his gaze to her face, feeling a prickly heat rise on his skin. “Bourbon,” he rasped.

  “I don’t need—”

  “Drink it.”

  She lifted her chin at his high-handedness but tipped the mug up to her lips. When the doorbell rang, Olivia’s eyes widened, and she sent him a nervous glance.

  “Probably the sheriff. I called him after I called Hank.” He headed for the door, and Olivia snatched one of Gram’s crocheted afghans off a chair to wrap around her shoulders.

  Reyn showed the dripping sheriff into the living room, and Olivia wearily relayed what little there was to tell about the latest attempt on her life. As before, the sheriff promised to do all he could. “Until we catch this guy, whoever he is, you best not go anywhere alone, ma’am.”

  “She won’t,” Reyn assured the officer, then ushered him to the door with his thanks. When he returned to the living room, Olivia had dropped the afghan onto the chair and was rubbing the muscles at the back of her neck.

  “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  She spun to face him. “No! I can go to Lila’s room or something. You stay in the guest room.”

  “I’m not having this argument.” He drilled a hard gaze on her. “Take my bed.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her back toward the stairs and swatted her behind.

  Mistake. The little swat was enough to remind him that she had no underwear.

  “All right, already. Never let it be said I kept you from being chivalrous.” She tossed her hair as she headed out of the room, and the scent of his shampoo wafted to him. Yet on her the scent became more delicate, more feminine. Decidedly more erotic. The coil of sensual tension in his gut twisted tighter.

  He cleared his throat. “I just have to get a few things out of there, and then the room’s all yours.”

  Following her up the steps, he watched the provocative sway of her hips as she glided up the stairs in front of him. The T-shirt clung to her backside, molded to her enticing curves. A little moan escaped his throat.

  “What?” she asked, glancing back at him.

  “Nothing.”

  She slipped into his bed, while he gathered a change of clothes for the morning. He heard the whisper of sheets and her tired sigh as she settled in, and felt himself get hard.

  Get out, Erikson. Walk away.

  He turned to tell her goodnight and found her winding the sheet in her fingers.

  “Reyn, I…I’m still kinda rattled about…what happened.” Her voice trembled, as if to give credence to her words. She raised her eyes to him and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “Would you stay for a while and…hold me?”

  Her request kicked him in the gut. “I can’t do that. I—”

  With leaden legs, he walked toward the door.

  “Please,” she squeaked. Her heard tears in her voice.

  Perspiration beaded on his upper lip. “Olivia,” he started, his voice thick with his need for her. “You know what will happen if I stay. You know why I can’t…”

  “Yeah, I know.” Disappointment and defeat colored her tone.

  He stood in the doorway, staring out at the hall, paralyzed by the battle waging inside him. She’s a virgin. You can’t give her what she needs. You’ll hurt her.

  The bed creaked as she resettled, and the sound chased along his nerves. Then she sniffed, a broken sob. And he looked at her. She watched him from the bed with sad eyes, her fiery hair fanned on his white pillow. Void of makeup, her face appeared more fragile and sweet, and he could better see the freckles dancing across her nose.

  Don’t do it.

  For a moment he just stood there, lost in her gold eyes, calling himself a million kinds of fool.

  Finally he t
ook one step toward her, then another. The bed squeaked as he climbed in next to her. His hands shook as he pulled her trembling body close. His heart bumped wildly as she laid her head on his chest and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Then he closed his eyes and listened to the pattering rain on the window while he held her tight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Reyn’s heart pounded a steady, life-affirming cadence in Olivia’s ear. The tension inside her slowly unfurled, giving way to drowsy security and contentment. Lying curled against Reyn’s broad chest, in the safe circle of his arms, felt right. Felt good. So good.

  It occurred to her that Reyn might think she’d been manipulating him, using her scare that night as an excuse to seduce him into bed with her. She frowned and tipped her head back to peer up at him. “Reyn?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I really was frightened tonight. I—”

  “Shh. It’s okay.” He hugged her closer, kissed the crown of her head. “You’re safe now.”

  “No,” she tried again. “I mean, I didn’t plan this as some big seduction scene or…well, I just don’t want you to think I’m exploiting the situation to put your back to the wall or—”

  “I don’t.”

  She released a deep breath. “Good.”

  His fingers trailed lightly up her spine and down again in a hypnotic stroke that he repeated until her bones melted. He worked his other hand into her hair and massaged her scalp until her all of her skin tingled.

  Slowly she brushed her hand over his chest, letting the scattering of crisp brown hair tickle her palm. The gentle rise and fall of his chest grew heavier, hotter. A slow swell of arousal blossomed inside her, and her own breathing grew ragged.

  Smoothing her hand over the muscles of his chest and washboard abs, she thought of the calendar picture that had fueled her fantasies regarding this man. A grin touched her lips. A few weeks ago, if someone had told her she’d be here snuggled next to the sexy man in that picture, she’d have checked him for fever. But here she was.

  And the thick ridge straining against his shorts told her it wouldn’t take much to convince him to live out a few of the fantasies she’d imagined.