Out Of Her League (21 page)

Now she was so nervous she'd probably never sleep. She wriggled away from him, desperate to put as little as an inch between them.

No sooner had she moved when he his hand tightened on her waist, holding her still. He cuddled her close until she relaxed against him before easing the pressure of his arm, at least having the decency keep his hips away from her. She lay awake for a long time, staring up at the ceiling as if praying for guidance.

He couldn't get his pulse under control. Where the hell
was
she? He'd already checked her house, her boyfriend's place, the old lady's apartment on the beach, even her mother's penthouse condo in West Vancouver. Nothing. He circled her blonde friend's house again, on the off chance he'd catch a glimpse of Christa or her black truck. Nothing. She hadn't been there last night. Must have stayed with her new boyfriend, that arrogant piece of shit cop.

Maybe her dog was here. He could go after it as punishment. The thought circled his brain, tantalizing him. No. No point in that. Besides, it was beneath him to kill an innocent animal.

He drove aimlessly down the street. He
had
to get to her, redeem his failure. If that nosy old man from next door hadn't interrupted him he could have finished what he'd started. Now she'd escaped, must be away somewhere with that goddamn cop. They hadn't flown anywhere, or he'd have found out about it by hacking into the airline databases. Maybe he could find the cop's cell phone records, track them down that way. How many Rayne Hutchinsons could there be?

Rayne
, he scoffed. What a pansy-assed name.

Had he taken her out of town, thinking it would avoid the inevitable outcome? Delay it, that's all. The idea of her being comforted by the son-of-a-bitch made him want to smash his fist through something. He imagined her looking up at her lover with her big blue eyes, all fragile and helpless when nothing could be further from the truth. For a woman she was damned strong, had shocked and impressed him with her will to fight. Turning the corner, the steering wheel sliding beneath his slippery palms, he glanced into the rearview mirror at his swollen, broken nose, at both eyes, puffy and bruised, at the furrows she'd raked across his cheek.

He'd been so close to having her, so close. Everything had been perfect, as if they were following a script in his head, but then his body hadn't cooperated and it had all gone wrong. The memory of not being able to enter her needled him like a shard of glass burrowed under his skin. He'd never had a problem getting hard before, and the humiliation still crawled through him. What the hell had gone wrong? His lust for that strong, sleek, struggling feminine body beneath him should have sent him over the edge, as it had time and time again in his fantasies. Instead he'd wilted like a shriveled carrot.

And then, in the throes of rage, he'd bitten her creamy skin. The mark had to be deep, and they would have made sure to document and analyze the precise puncture wounds his teeth had made. He'd left a similar mark only once before, on his last target, and if the cops ever thought to cross reference the two bites... Careless of him, to duplicate such an action. He was usually more careful.

No matter. Even if they did match the two cases they still had to catch him, and he wasn't going to let that happen. No way would he go back into the prison system, where every kind of repulsive deviant licked their lips at the thought of screwing him in the shower room. Never again. This time, he called the shots.

A wave of fury pulsed through his veins. Wherever she was, did she think she was safe? That it was finished between them? Oh, no, that little demonstration he'd given her would plant the seed in her head of what he'd do to her for the finale. What would she do when he caught up with her? Turn white and scream? Try to run? The fact that her boyfriend was an ERT officer didn't worry him. He'd simply have to make sure she was alone. Only the last one had been as exciting for him, but she hadn't given him this much trouble. Those terrified brown eyes pleading with him as he choked her, hands flailing against the rope... he could still smell the blood, taste the terror. She had been the best, but also the riskiest. Leaving one minute later would have had him arrested, but he'd trusted his instincts. They'd pulled him in for questioning, raising his blood pressure, but had no hard evidence to pin on him. This time the result would be the same, the payoff even bigger. He would have to be patient, wait for the right moment. He still had time to perfect his plan, get it right. He had to. His life depended on it.

Back in front of his glowing computer screen, he went straight to work. Almost a half-hour passed before he found the record of phone calls. Hmm. Interesting. Four calls made to the same number in Lincoln City, Oregon. Two received from the same number. Another received from Charleston, South Carolina. He checked further back, noted that same number coming up every week or so. Must be someone significant to the cop.

Satisfied he was close to finding Christa, his pulse began to slow. A sense of calm flowed over him. They had to be in the States, he reasoned. Lincoln City seemed the obvious location, but he'd check the Charleston number too, just to be thorough. He was nothing if not thorough.

He reached across his meticulously organized desk for a pad of paper and pen, wrote down the numbers. Now all he had to do was find out whom the numbers belonged to, so he could set the wheels in motion.

Christa was still out there somewhere; she couldn't stay away forever.

“So,” Bryn chimed, pulling out of the driveway, “Where do you want to go first?”

When Bryn had stopped by for coffee and offered to take Christa shopping with her, fear had risen like a ghost to grab her by the throat. She glanced in the side mirror, spotted an old lady driving a Cadillac, her blue-rinsed head barely visible over the steering wheel. No threat there, except maybe a rear-ender looking for a place to happen. “I want to get something for Rayne. You know, something to thank him for everything he's done for me.”

“Nice idea. Like what?”

“I don't know. What do you think? I mean, you obviously know him
much
better than I do. After all, you've been friends for years— ”

Bryn laughed. “We've never slept together, Christa.”

Her mouth hung open. “I never th— ”

“Oh, yes you did. I knew from the first moment I met you that you thought Rayne and I were an item.”

Embarrassment coursed through her. Damn, she hated being so transparent.

“Well, anyway, we haven't. Rayne's like a brother to me. If we were to have sex it would be tantamount to incest, y'know?”

Relief flooded her: she had no reason to be jealous of Bryn's dark beauty. “He told me he used to scare the crap out of your dates.”

“Exactly what a good brother would do, right?” She grimaced. “He saved my butt once. This one guy wasn't taking no for an answer and I was shoving him off me in the backseat of his car when Rayne reaches through the window and drags the guy out. Talk about an adrenaline junkie with a hero complex”

“That's him, all right.” She took another glance in the side mirror. The ocean gleamed silver-blue in the late morning sun, waves crashing on the golden sand. After a few blocks with no sign of a tail, she began to relax.

“You're safe with me, girl.” Bryn patted her hand. “I've got a black belt in karate and I'm not afraid to use it.”

Rayne would never have agreed to let her go with Bryn unless he felt confident of her safety, so she figured the woman must be quite something. Had he told Bryn she'd been attacked? Surely she'd been curious about the bruising. She shifted in her seat. “I guess you can tell from my face that... I'm not sure if Rayne told you, but— ”

“I know the gist of it.”

The crushing sense of shame vanished, maybe because Bryn didn't make a huge deal out of it. She was a social worker after all, must be used to working with battered women. “Do you— have you seen this kind of thing before? In your work?”

Bryn's expression hardened. “All too often, I'm afraid. Though usually it's their partner who attacks them.”

... your boyfriend's even bigger than me. Imagine the damage a guy his size could do
. The words came out of nowhere, the photo of her and Rayne witnessing the scene playing out in a disjointed series of snapshots. The glint of the knife, the taunts. She closed her eyes.

“Unfortunately there's no shortage of sickos out there,” Bryn continued.

“I wondered if the women you've dealt with... if they recovered afterward. Had normal lives, got married, had kids. That sort of thing.” As she processed the words they brought comfort, made her feel less alone, less like a freak of nature for being targeted.

“Most of them, with the right help.” She cast her a skewed glance. “You
are
getting help, right?”

Christa shook her head. “Not until I go back home. For now I'm writing in a journal about it. The social worker at the hospital told me it would help.”

“No counseling, no therapy, nothing?”

“Not yet. It seemed more important to... get me away from there.”

Bryn pulled over and killed the engine, slewing around in her seat. “So let me guess— you're not sleeping? Having nightmares? Jumping at shadows, having anxiety attacks?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, prayed the tears wouldn't overflow. “The dreams are the worst thing. I wake up feeling like I'm choking to death.”

Bryn's eyes filled with sympathy. “You must be really strong to function so well. If it weren't for the bruises I'd never know anything had happened to you.”

Strong? She didn't feel strong. Not anymore. She had been strong, before the psycho ruined her life, but not now. Now, she feared one good crack in her emotional armor would shatter her into a thousand pieces. Having fallen apart once already, after Cameron, she couldn't afford to let it happen again. “Without Rayne, I wouldn't function at all right now.” Bryn's steady, understanding gaze gave her the courage to say it aloud. “I'm trying so hard not to be clingy with him, but it's tough not to. He makes me feel so safe... I can't put it into words. But I'm afraid of becoming dependent on him. If I do, he'll feel smothered, and when he walks away I— ”

“What makes you think he'll walk away?”

Uh... his reputation? His track record? The reality that he could have any woman on the earth, so why would he pick one that was freaked out and neurotic?

“Look, I can't read the man's mind, but I can tell you he's letting you lean on him because he wants you to. As for being clingy, I think you're entitled to be after what happened, and I can't think of anyone I'd want watching my back more than Rayne— except maybe his dad. You didn't seem clingy at all to me the first night when you left us at the bonfire. If anyone's being clingy, I'd say it's him. When you went back to the cottage that night he jumped up like someone had stabbed him with a cattle prod. I've never seen him like that with anyone else, and I told his mom that. Told her he's got it bad this time.”

A thrill raced through her, the seed of hope she'd tucked in her heart taking root and blooming.

Bryn took hold of her cold hand, giving it a squeeze. “Rayne's being protective of you, and rightly so until this guy is caught. If Nate has anything to do with it, he'll find him. And if you want to talk about what happened, you can come to me anytime, okay?”

Her heart constricted, the words meant so much. “Thank you.” She leaned over and gave her new friend a hug.

Bryn wiped away the tears gathered on Christa's lashes. “So whaddya say? You ready for some retail therapy?”

She let out a deep breath. “God, yes. By the time I'm done, my Visa card will be melted around the edges.” They shared a laugh, then headed along the sidewalk.

“About this gift for Rayne... ” Bryn prompted.

“I want to get him something he'll really love.”

“A watch?”

“Not sure. But I'll know it when I see it.”

Bryn stopped to browse through a rack of purses. “So, how are things with you two, anyway? You slept with him yet?”

Christa's mouth fell open.

“Oh, don't be such a prude. Have you?”

Technically she had slept with him, hadn't she? But not the way Bryn meant. “Rayne and I are only friends— he hasn't even kissed me. He only invited me down here to stay with him to help take... to get me away from everything.”

Bryn rolled her eyes. “That's what he told me, but there's nothing wrong with my eyesight for God's sake.”

“Oh.” Her heart leapt at the prospect that a guy she'd considered so far out of her league might actually be interested in her, but how could she be sure it wouldn't be physical and short-lived?

“Don't you go pale on me. I didn't mean he would try and jump your bones the first chance he got. If that was all he wanted he'd have done it by now.” She gave a reassuring smile. “Take it from me, hon, he really cares about you.”

Why couldn't she believe it? Until he said or did anything to advance their relationship past friendship, common sense and emotional survival dictated keeping her feelings to herself.

Within an hour she'd found the perfect gift, and when they pulled up into Bryn's driveway Jake was watching them out the window, his flapping tail swishing the curtains from side to side. “There's my guy,” Christa gushed, stooping to play with his ears. Bryn bent to gather the newspaper and mail on the front step on their way in.

“Package for you,” she said, handing over a flat white box tied with string. Christa frowned. At Bryn's place? It had her name on it. Had Rayne left her a surprise? She pulled the string away, opened the box.

And dropped it with a gasp, hands flying to her mouth.

“What?” Bryn demanded, pushing past her to see.

“It's from him,” Christa quavered, stricken. Her heart thundered in her ears, panic raking its icy claws over her chilled skin. He'd found her. How had he found her? Was he watching her now? She stared down at the hideous thing, unable to look away.

A gingerbread man, its eyes missing, holes punched through the body by something sharp. A bite was missing from its left shoulder.