Private Eye Protector

by Shirlee McCoy

  “I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about that, Rayne.” He sat up, his gaze on a spot just behind her.

  “What…?” But she didn’t need to ask. All she had to do was turn and look.

  Michael, sprawled a dozen yards away, the gun lying near his hand, blood pooling around his head. Dead.

  She knew it. Just as she knew that he’d been preparing to shoot her in the back when he’d been killed.

  “What happened to him?”

  “I guess Ryder finally decided to make an appearance.”

  “Did he shoot Michael?” She stood up, but Chance grabbed her hand.

  “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Check to see if he’s really dead. He is, and it’s probably the way he’d want it. Jail wouldn’t be a good place for a guy like him.”

  “He had Chandra killed,” she said, the words tasting as ugly as fear had.

  “I know.” He watched her steadily, waiting for something, but she wasn’t sure what.

  “Then maybe you can tell me why he did it.”

  “We don’t know for sure yet.”

  “But you think you do.”

  “Yes.”

  “Go ahead and tell me, Chance, because hiding it from me won’t change it.”

  “I think he was Emma’s father.”

  “Michael? No way. He was the most proper, uptight, legalistic person I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t have cheated on me, not with a patient and definitely not with my best friend. Even if he would have, Chandra never would have betrayed me like that.” Her gaze dropped to Michael’s still body, to the blood staining the snow near his head.

  Blood.

  I have the rarest blood type. AB negative. I like to think it makes me special.

  He’d said that on one of their first dates, and she’d been foolish enough to find it charming.

  Only he wasn’t charming now.

  He was dead. His life used up. Wasted.

  Emma’s father?

  No way.

  No.

  Something snapped in her mind.

  More color than picture, more vibration than sound, words echoing into her head.

  I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, Rayne, but your daughter has the rarest blood type. Only seven percent of the population are AB negative.

  Another voice, bringing a memory so sharp and clear she couldn’t believe she’d ever forgotten it.

  Emma’s first well-baby checkup in Spokane, handing her medical records over to the doctor, hearing those words, and knowing, knowing the truth, but not knowing what to do about it.

  She’d done something.

  She must have.

  Because Michael was dead and Chance was bleeding and snow glittered in the bright sunlight, stars dancing and whirling as she fell.

  TWENTY

  Chance dove for Rayne, catching her before she hit the ice-crusted snow, pain shooting through his collarbone, blood seeping down his chest.

  “Good catch, Richardson.” Ryder strode toward them, his handgun tucked into its holster, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses as he checked Michael’s pulse.

  “Now you decide to show up?” They’d split up after they’d reached the cabin, each taking an opposite wall as they looked for signs of Rayne and Michael.

  Chance had been heading for the back door, ready to go inside and search for Rayne, when she’d run straight into him, an answer to his frantic prayers suddenly in his arms.

  Alive.

  She’d better stay that way.

  He lowered her to the ground, the sound of sirens and the crackle and hiss of the fire drifting on the afternoon air.

  “I showed up with plenty of time to save you and your girlfriend, so maybe you should think twice about complaining.”

  “No complaints. Just wondering what took you so long.”

  “Rathdrum saw me coming and took cover behind some trees. We were playing cat and mouse for a while before I finally had a clear target. Unfortunately, he got off a couple of shots first. Good thing the guy can’t shoot straight. Otherwise, you’d be dead.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” He took off his coat, tucked it around Rayne. She looked battered and bruised, her face covered in soot, her hands and wrists bloody and raw. “Rayne, can you hear me?”

  “Unfortunately,” she mumbled, opening her eyes and trying to lever up on her elbows.

  “Better stay down, ma’am. You’re not looking so hot.” Ryder slid his coat under her head.

  “Thanks a lot.” She scowled and Chance smiled.

  “Seeing as how your attitude is intact, I’d say you’re going to live,” Ryder responded, his tone gentler than his words.

  “I don’t have an attitude. I’m having a delayed reaction to stress.” Her teeth chattered and Chance lifted her hand, studied the bruised and blistered flesh, the shards of wood buried deep in her palm.

  “What did you do, climb up the cabin walls to escape?”

  “No. First, I spent about a lifetime breaking out of duct-tape bonds, then I broke through a root cellar door and pulled myself up into the cabin. I don’t remember much after that. Just praying and praying.”

  “I guess God was listening,” Ryder said. “It only took ten minutes for the whole place to go up in flames. If you’d taken a few more minutes to get out of that duct tape, you’d have died before either of us could have gotten to you. I see the ambulance. I’d better show the crew where you are.” Ryder jogged toward the ambulance and fire truck, his words lingering in the air.

  A few more minutes…you’d have died.

  It was true.

  A few more minutes, and Rayne would have died, smoke and flames stealing her life away. Stealing her away.

  The thought churned in the pit of Chance’s stomach, settled into his heart.

  He touched her cheek, gently brushed soot from her skin, and she shivered, looking into his eyes, tears swimming in her gaze. “Thank you for coming for me, Chance.”

  “What else would I have done? I love you.”

  A single tear slid down her cheek, her gaze jumping to Michael’s splayed body. “I…need to get out of here.”

  She stood and he followed, his finger hooking her pocket before she could walk away.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who was shot. Are you okay?” She turned to face him again, her hand settling on his shoulder, inches from the wound in his upper chest.

  “I’ll be fine, but then, I’m not the one who was nearly murdered by someone who once said he loved me. That’s a big hurt, Rayne. Will you be okay?”

  “You forgot the part about me once saying I loved him, but I will be okay. Eventually.”

  “I’m sorry that he wasn’t the man you wanted him to be. Sorry for all you’ve been through.” But he wasn’t sorry she was there in his arms. Wasn’t sorry that their lives had converged. That God had taken two people who’d wanted nothing and given them everything.

  “Me, too. When he pulled a gun in Emma’s hospital room, he told me he’d kill her if I didn’t cooperate. I believed him. I still believe he would have done it, and knowing that she’s his…daughter makes it even worse.” Her voice broke, and he slid an arm around her waist, led her past the body and toward the ambulance crew.

  “He was a sick and broken person.” But if he hadn’t died, Chance would have had a difficult time not making him pay for what he’d done to Rayne.

  “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe he was just completely selfish and arrogant. He wanted me as his trophy wife, Chandra and, probably, other women, as his playthings. I think his entire life was a game of manipulation, and I think he got a high out of winning it. Is that sickness, Chance? Or is it just sin?”

  “I don’t think anyone can answer that question. But Michael’s arrogance is what brought him down. He thought he was too smart to get caught. That’s how we ended up catching him. Ryder and I broke into Michael’s hotel room—�
��

  “You broke into a hotel room?” She tripped, and he pulled her closer to his side, pain shooting through him, his head fuzzy, blood still oozing from his chest.

  “We figured Michael was overconfident enough to make a mistake. He was. We found deleted emails that he’d received from Mallory on his computer at the hotel room. One had this address. They talked about delivering a package, so we took a chance and came out here. I think that if this morning’s kidnapping had been successful, this is where Mallory was supposed to bring Emma.”

  Bring her and leave her to die.

  He didn’t know it for sure, but he believed it, and just thinking about the baby crying and hungry and screaming for Rayne filled him with rage.

  “Thank the Lord they weren’t able to get her.”

  “I’m thanking Him for a lot of things today, Rayne.” The world spun and he closed his eyes.

  “Chance?” Rayne touched his cheek, and he forced himself to respond as pain throbbed through his chest, stole his thoughts.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, looking into her eyes and knowing that she didn’t believe it. He wanted to say it again, wanted to pull her close, whisper that he loved her, but the world shifted, pain exploding through him, blackness edging in.

  Trembling arms wrapped around him, held him up when he would have fallen.

  Voices. Movement. Stronger arms and he was flying.

  No. Lying on a gurney, blue sky flashing above as EMTs pushed him to the ambulance.

  Sirens screaming.

  Someone crying.

  He opened his eyes, looked into Rayne’s soot-stained face. “Don’t cry, Goldilocks. As I said, everything is going to be okay.”

  “Not if you leave me it won’t be.” She sniffed back tears, squeezed his hand.

  “Why would I go and do a thing like that?”

  “Because I haven’t explained rule number five.”

  “I thought you said there were only four.”

  “There were.”

  “But?”

  “We needed one more.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. We.”

  “And this is going to be the last one for sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So tell me.”

  She leaned down, her eyes misty-mountain blue, her lips close to his ear as she whispered so that only he could hear. “When you love someone, never ever, ever forget to tell him before you say goodbye.”

  “What about when you say hello?” He lifted her battered hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

  “That, too.” She smiled through fresh tears.

  “Good, because I’m not planning to say goodbye anytime soon, but I am planning to say I love you. So, hello, Rayne. I love you.”

  “Hello, Chance. I love you, too,” she responded, her lips brushing his, light and tentative, but filled with the promise of more.

  For now.

  Forever.

  The two of them and Emma, building on the foundation God had laid, making their lives exactly what He’d always intended them to be.

  EPILOGUE

  Spring had arrived in Spokane in fits and starts, snow melting from the valley first, then the foothills, and, finally, the green-blue mountains. Bright sunlight splashed across the farmhouse lawn, touching daffodils, dandelions and lush green grass as Rayne covered an oversize picnic table with a bright yellow cloth, smoothed wrinkles from its surface and set out plates and cups.

  “How is it going, dear?” Lila called out from the deck, Emma perched on her hip.

  “All I need are the balloons and the presents. We’ll bring the cake out when everyone gets here,” she responded, jogging to the deck and taking Emma.

  “How’s the birthday girl?” Rayne asked, dropping a kiss on silky red curls.

  “Mama!” Emma bounced in her arms, her eyes wide with wonder. She might not understand what a birthday party was, but she sensed the excitement in the house.

  “One year old. Where does the time go? How about you two come in the house? I have something I’d like to give you before the other guests arrive. Then you can get ready, and I’ll take care of the balloons and put the presents out on the table.”

  “I’ll do that, Lila. You made the cake, bought the decorations and washed down the picnic table. The least I can do is set up for the party.”

  “Don’t be silly, Rayne. Aside from the cake, getting ready for this took barely an hour of my time. Now come on. Your family will be here soon, and I know you want to shower and change before they get here.”

  “I do?” Rayne glanced down at her cargo-style jeans and lightweight sweater. Her family had seen her in worse.

  “They haven’t seen you in months. I’m sure you’ll want them to see you at your best.”

  “When they were here in December, they saw me with singed hair, burns, bruises and splinters. Compared to that, this is my best.”

  “Well, it’s up to you, but if I’d ever been fortunate enough to have a daughter, I would have loved to see her in pretty clothes.”

  “Do you really think that’s going to work?” she asked as they walked into Lila’s bedroom.

  “What?”

  “Playing the guilt card.”

  “Guilt is such a harsh word, Rayne. But, really, it’s all about the photographs. My dear friend, Michelle Sidles, is coming to take pictures of the party. She’s going to have her favorite framed so that I can hang it over the mantel. It will be hanging there for years to come. Everyone who stops by the house will see us. Me in my best Sunday dress. Your family dressed to the nines—”

  Rayne snorted.

  “They will be. Your mother and I were talking about it yesterday, and we agreed that we’d make sure everyone dressed to impress. Even Fred is going to wear a tie. Of course, if you’d rather not, you’re welcome to come to the party in jeans and a sweater. I’ll love looking at the picture, anyway.”

  “Okay. You win. I’ll change.” Rayne laughed, sitting on the bed with Emma while Lila pulled a small trunk from her closet.

  “Did I ever tell you that my family came from a long line of shipping merchants?”

  “No.”

  “Well, they did. During the Victorian era they were quite wealthy. A few things have been passed down to me.” She opened the box, pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper and handed it to Rayne.

  “What is this?”

  “Open it and see.”

  Rayne carefully unfolded the tissue paper, lifted out a Victorian child’s dress. Robin’s-egg-blue velvet with delicate lace filigree on the collar and sleeves, it came with a layered petticoat and button-up boots.

  “It’s beautiful, Lila.”

  “Isn’t it? My grandmother wore it to her first birthday party. My mother wore it to hers. I wore it to mine. I never had a daughter, so it’s been in the box, waiting. I would be honored if you would accept it as gift for Emma. I don’t expect you to have her wear it today—”

  “I’d love nothing better, but I can’t accept this as more than a loan. It’s a family heirloom. I’m not family.”

  “Love makes family, Rayne. I love you. I love Emma. I think that’s enough. Please, take it.”

  “Thank you, Lila. I know that Emma will treasure it.”

  “I know she will, too. Now both of you need to get ready. The guests will be arriving in twenty minutes.”

  Twenty minutes to get Emma dressed into a fancy Victorian outfit?

  That should be interesting.

  Twenty-five minutes later, she’d finally managed to wrangle Emma into the dress, had wrangled herself into a pale blue blouse and black pencil skirt. She swept blush over her cheekbones and checked her mascara and hair while Emma clung to her legs and tried to balance in her new boots.

  “We’d better hurry, sweetie. Your little friends are probably already out there waiting.” She lifted Emma, ran out the door and straight into a firm, hard chest.

  She bounced backward, would have fallen if som
eone hadn’t grabbed her waist.

  “Whoa! Be careful, Goldilocks. If I break you, your family isn’t going to be happy.”

  “I’m not all that easy to break, remember?” Rayne wrapped her free arm around his waist, inhaled spicy aftershave and soap, smiled into eyes that made her insides melt.

  How had she ever believed she could follow those silly rules when Chance was around?

  “You’re pretty easy to bruise, though.” He stepped back, his gaze traveling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “Actually, you’re just plain pretty. And so are you, Little Miss Birthday Girl.” He took Emma, and she kicked her legs excitedly, her hand settling on Chance’s face. Aside from Rayne, he was Emma’s favorite person.

  “We’d better get down to the party before your mother comes looking for us.”

  “She won’t. You know she loves when we spend time alone together.” He grinned, walking down the stairs as the front door opened and a tall, hard-faced man walked in. Rayne’s heart leaped, and she ran down the stairs, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.

  “Jonas! I’m so glad you made it.”

  “Of course we did. We wouldn’t miss our only niece’s first birthday party!” Skylar stepped into the foyer, her arms and legs svelte and muscular, her belly bulging beneath a fitted shirtdress. Curly hair springing around her glowing face, she smiled, wrapped Rayne in a firm hug.

  “Skylar, you look—”

  “Whalelike? Rotund? Pumpkinesque?”

  “I was going to say beautiful.”

  “I’ll take that,” Skylar said, smiling, then stepped aside so Rayne’s parents could crowd in.

  “How about we move the reunion out to the backyard? A few of Emma’s friends are here for the party,” Chance said.

  “Since when do one-year-olds have friends?” Rayne’s father responded, and Rayne smiled, leading the group out into the bright afternoon, watching as her mother took Emma and went to chat with Lila, as Chance and Jonas and Skylar talked with her father. Watching and talking and laughing as the afternoon wore on and friends dispersed and the day faded into spring dusk.