Dying To Be Heard (Book 1): Outcry (8 page)

Rayne shook her head. "And what if you don't figure this out?" Her anger had grown. She didn't need a babysitter.

His expression matched her own, emotionless and almost cold. “Then I guess you're stuck with me."

She couldn't stop her sarcasm. "Yay. Lucky me." She turned away from him to stare unfocused out the window.

When it rains, it pours.

Chapter 6

He sat in the large wingback chair, fingers steeped on his pale lips as he stared unblinking at the crackling fire just before him. The flames licked, casting a dancing shadow across his face and about the darkened room. He was the epitome of menacing. So much so, that even the midday sun did not dare peek through the curtains and into the room.

A few paces behind him stood a tall, muscular man, his shoulders broad and his chest protruding. He kept his large hands clasped behind his back and his shaved head down.

The long silence drew out. The room was elaborate. There were high ceilings, and masterful works of art and sculptures adorned the walls, but very little furnishings, save for the two chairs and a large wooden desk, all facing the fireplace.

There was a deep inhale and a slight shifting of movement that was nearly deafening in the quietness of the chamber.

"I can only imagine your frustration, sir. No one knew Martin Slade would go to such lengths to stay away from us," said the broad-shouldered man. "But there is one positive outcome to this situation."

"Oh really?" came a deep voice from the chair. "Please Matius, enlighten me."

Matius straightened and held his head up, maybe even in honor. "We now know where the girl is."

The pale-faced man was out of the chair and just inches from Matius so quickly that even his superior eyesight hadn't caught it. His pointy nose nearly touched him, and his lean body was pressed against his huge chest, putrid breath bombarding his skin.

"And what good does that do me?" he asked, anger emanating from every pore as spit flew from his mouth to land on Matius’ face. "Until yesterday, the girl didn't even know her grandfather was alive. What could she possibly know that would benefit us?"

Matius fought the urge to step away from his rancidness. He'd been a lackey quite a few times in his existence and understood how things worked. You didn't ask questions, make excuses, or interrupt. You nodded, took what you were given, and moved on. "I just assumed that after nearly twenty years of not finding what we are looking for, that it would be a positive."

The pale man's breathing was labored, and he stared at him with a malice like no other. It took a moment, but a wicked grin creased his thin lips. "Trying to look at the glass half-full?" he said, turning away from Matius. He moved to stand between the two chairs, his hands folded neatly behind his back,  once again entranced by the flames.

"Tonight may be our only chance to grab her. No doubt she has at least one escort. The death of Martin more than likely has thrown them off their game." He thought for a moment. "Do not kill her. Bring her straight to me. Do you understand?"

Matius nodded and bowed before turning and heading to the large wooden doors. Before he crossed the threshold, the deep voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Matius?" the voice said almost nonchalantly. "If you mess this up again, I will rip you to shreds and scatter the pieces to the dogs."

He nodded again and continued out the door.

Rayne laid face-down on the soft down comforter of the king-size bed in the hotel suite. She didn't think he ever would quit complaining about the situation. Shouldn't she be the one whining?

The ride from Alexandria International Airport was barely twenty minutes to the front door of the hotel. After the initial shock of finding out her grandfather had been killed...again, she spent the rest of the ride in silence, wondering what Camden and the driver, Connor, were whispering about. Camden had made it very clear that he was not at all thrilled with the arrangements he had to make. Something about the lack of security and being unprepared. She wasn’t sure. What she did know was that she was tired, had a headache, and just wanted to be left alone.

Which is exactly what she did. Immediately after checking into the Walker Hotel in downtown Alexandria, the three of them, Camden, Rayne, and Connor, rode the elevator to their fourth-floor suite. The way the concierge acted toward Camden, giggling, flipping her hair around, smiling playfully, she’d been expecting he'd weaseled his way into the penthouse, with in-house masseurs and trays of food everywhere.

However, that's not what they had. Of course, it was still nice, with a moderate-size kitchen, large common area with a bar, and a full bathroom. Just off to the left of the kitchen were two double doors that led into a master bedroom, with a king-size bed and huge master bath. Everything was updated and modern, with white walls and cream carpet. The sofa was black leather with a stainless steel, glass-topped coffee table and stainless appliances. There were a few paintings on the walls, mostly black and white skylines, but it fit. Overall, she was impressed.

She questioned why there was only one bedroom and one bed, to which Camden responded no one else but her would be sleeping. There were too many precautions to be taken, and they didn't have time to rest. She didn't argue. She immediately went into the bedroom and locked the door behind her. She fell onto the bed and hadn't moved since.

She hadn't wanted to think about any of it. Part of her felt bad for not being distraught over the death of her grandfather, but how was she supposed to feel about something like that, when to her, it happened more than twenty years ago? She inhaled deeply and tried to blow away all the stress and confusion surrounding her. However, the fact that he was murdered would not leave her mind.

Even with everything in the open about the situation, she still had no idea what to do. All the pieces were there, she just couldn't quite get them to fit together. There was still something that they weren't telling her, and she couldn't put her finger on it. She still stood by her choice to follow through with it. It was the only way to get her life back to some semblance of normal, maybe even her only chance at survival.

Rayne flipped over to stare up at the ceiling. This had to be a dream, right? Things like this didn't actually happen to people, much less someone like her. Ordinary waitresses from Ridgeton, Washington didn't lead exciting lives.

Her hair, previously in a ponytail, was now down and splayed around her like an auburn fan. The tension from the elastic band had been giving her a headache, but since it still was hurting, she was leaning more toward brain overload as the culprit.

A knock at the door pulled her away from her thoughts.

"Rayne? Are you okay?"

It was Camden. She pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Yeah. You can come in."

The knob turned, and Camden slowly entered. He was as gorgeous as ever in his jeans and tight T-shirt. His short hair was a mess, and she could tell he had been running his hands through it a million times. Those bright blue eyes of his stared, searching. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She nodded and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I suppose."

That was the best answer she could give him. She herself wasn't sure. Not getting to meet her grandfather was disappointing, and the circumstances surrounding his death unsettling, but for her, he was gone long ago. Yes, she was "ok," and more determined now than before.

She sat up straighter and folded her hands in her lap, staring down at them as her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. "I mean, it's already weird just being in Louisiana. It's worse that I'm with complete strangers." She gave him a weak smile. "But I can handle it. I'm a big girl."

Camden moved forward and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. She'd become more at ease with his presence throughout the day. Why not? The guy had stayed the night in her apartment, she'd gotten on a plane with him and flew across the country, and now she'd be staying in a hotel with him and Connor. She might as well suck it up and get over it altogether.

"I know this is extremely difficult for you," he started, and allowed their eyes to meet for a second. "I won't even try to imagine what it must be like to find out everything you have in the last twenty-four hours."

Rayne smiled and nodded. She knew he was just trying to be comforting, and she was thankful for that. She'd thought she’d wanted to be alone, but now, she was glad he was here. She was taken aback when he reached over and placed his hand on hers.

"If you need anything, I’m here," he said quietly.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she immediately was aware of the tingling sensation generating from their connection and running all the way up her arm and down her spine. She inhaled deeply and hoped with all she had that he wouldn't notice her cheeks flushing every shade of pink possible. She couldn't look at him, not even after he failed to let go for a moment.

He gave a sigh before standing and leaving the room.

Her skin was crackling with electricity, and she was reminded of the scene at the airport. Smiling to herself, she only halfheartedly tried to quell the memory of his lips against hers and the fervency with which he'd moved. A warmth began to coalesce in her core. What she wouldn't give to feel it again. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she'd thoroughly enjoyed it in spite of the situation.

Her fingers came to gently rest on her lips and she let her eyes close in wishful thinking. It had been far too long since she’d been serious about anyone, and even longer since she’d been intimate. The velvety smooth feel of his lips had sparked something, and that tiny ember was threatening to spread. Her eyes snapped open as she realized where this was going. This was not the time or the place.

Dismissing her fantasy, she stood and walked toward the window overlooking the busy street below. Next to it was a single-plate glass door that led out onto a small balcony. It looked more like a fire escape than anything, made of black iron bars and just barely big enough for two people. She didn't bother going out. She already knew it was hot and humid, and she could get the same view from the window.

Down below, there were a few people moving about here and there, a few cars passing, but nothing out of the ordinary. To the right of the hotel, a large metal bridge was just visible, but it was hard to tell if there was actually water under it or not because of a large levee blocking the view. She could imagine it would be an amazing place for a sunset walk.

Leaning forward and pressing her forehead to the glass, she tried to look straight down at what was on the street below. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, only her curiosity was guiding her, but what she found was a little unnerving. A tall, bulky man leaned against a “no parking” sign, smoking a cigarette. He looked greasy and dirty even from this distance, and she could only presume how he smelled.

But what was odd was that she could have sworn he was looking directly at her. What were the odds that of all the windows on this side of the building, he chose to stare at hers?

He brought the slender white stick to his mouth and blew a puff of smoke into the air, eyes never leaving hers.

Is he smirking at me
?

She shook her head and backed away. She was becoming more and more paranoid by the second and hated the feeling. She didn't want to suspect or worry that someone was following her, hiding in her closet or under the bed. It left a sinking pit in the bottom of her stomach where anxiousness and fear flipped and flopped in a nauseating sort of tango. She couldn't even begin to count the number of times she'd repeated the same phrase over and over in her head:
I just want it all to end.

She had a feeling it wouldn't be happening anytime soon. It was just the beginning. She'd only just managed to get some minor bits of information from Camden. There was much more work to be done still.

Just the thought made her temples throb and sharp pains shoot through her skull.
Lovely. Just lovely.
She really could have done without the migraine. Sighing and squinting her eyes against the pain, she noticed, for the first time, an open door on the other side of the room. She strode over and was amazed when she stepped inside.

Everything was beyond exquisite. Tan marble countertops matched the tile in the giant walk-in shower that sported four or five chrome shower heads and contrasted magnificently with the slate gray covering the floor. The walls were a smooth shade of cream that she wouldn't have guessed would have actually worked with the palette, but it did.

It was her own personal heaven.

She excitedly reached inside the shower and turned the faucet all the way to hot. She couldn't wait to feel the steam on her skin, and undressed as fast as she could. A sharp hiss escaped through clenched teeth as the initial sting subsided. There was nothing better than a long, hot shower to wash away the tension and burden that somehow had found a resting place within her.

Since yesterday, she had been nothing but one tight ball of everything she hated. It wasn't like her to get worked up easily or let things bother her to the point that it was physically tiresome. Even circumstances like these should be nothing. Life had thrown her some wicked curveballs, including having to quit college one semester before graduation because her mother was dying of cancer. Then, after her passing, she couldn't afford to pay funeral costs, student loans, rent, and utilities while attending school, so she'd made the choice to drop out and join the workforce early.

It was by no means easy for her, but she'd managed it all without completely drowning, and came out on the other side a better person because of it. Her mother had been the most precious thing in her universe, and Rayne would have given her own life to have one more day with her.

It shouldn't be that upsetting to have that very same existence threatened by whoever was after her. Rayne turned to face one of the spouts and lifted her head to let the water cascade down her neck and over her chest, hoping that it would cleanse her mind as well. She wasn't fond of digging up the past. Dwelling on things only made her feel sorry for herself, and that never helped anyone accomplish anything. It always could be worse. She remembered that every time she drove past a cemetery.