Private Eye Protector

TWO

Holding hands with Rayne Sampson was not how Chance had planned to spend his evening. As a matter of fact, the only thing he’d planned on holding was the remote for the television. He’d figured he deserved a couple of hours of downtime. It had been a long day.

A long week.

A long month.

A long year.

And now he was sitting in a hospital room, holding hands with a woman he’d been trying hard to avoid for the better part of two months.

He frowned, slipping his hand from hers.

Frowned again when she didn’t move.

He touched the side of her neck the way he had when he’d found her unconscious in her crumbled car, let his fingers linger on smooth skin and steady pulse.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t died, yet,” she grumbled, and he let his hand drop away.

“Yet?”

“The way my head is pounding, I’m thinking my brain might explode.” Her eyes opened slowly. Eyes the color of Loon Lake in early spring. Misty green-blue. He’d noticed them the day they’d met. Had told himself not to, but he’d been noticing them ever since, anyway.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t. Kane won’t be happy if you die on my watch.”

“I hope he won’t be happy if I die, period.” She flashed a smile that brought out the deep dimple in her cheek. Pretty. Wholesome. Not at all the way Jessica had been. No sultry allure or boldly painted lips. Rayne was all about subtle color and natural beauty.

“You remember Kane?”

“Sure. We spoke several times when I interviewed for my job with his company. I was really excited when he said he wanted to hire me. A new job. A new life,” she mumbled, and he thought she might drift off again.

“Was that the plan?” In the seven weeks he’d known her, he hadn’t asked why she’d moved from Arizona to Washington. Hadn’t asked a hundred questions that he’d wanted to ask, because asking would have meant interest, and he couldn’t allow himself to be interested again. To fall again.

Heart.

Soul.

Mind.

He’d done it once.

Had proven just how little he knew about what it meant to make it work. Failure hadn’t been in his vocabulary, but he’d failed anyway. Hadn’t given enough of himself, spent enough time, done enough to maintain what he’d been so eager to start.

“The plan? I don’t know if I had one. I just wanted to get away from …”

“What?”

“Sometimes a person just needs a fresh start.”

“I can understand that.” He’d made his own fresh start two years ago. Come back to the place he’d grown up, tried to put the past and all its mistakes behind him.

“Yeah, well, it looks like I’m getting another fresh start. Maybe you can fill me in on a few things.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, her face pale, the bump on her head deep blue and green.

“Like what?”

“When did we meet? How did I end up renting an apartment from your mother? Are we just coworkers or are we more?” she asked.

Straightforward.

Unapologetic.

Handling the situation in the same forthright manner she handled clients. He’d admired that, admired a lot of things about Rayne.

“We’re coworkers. We attend the same church. Your apartment is in my mother’s attic. Kane knew my mother was looking for a tenant, and he knew you were looking for a place to stay. He mentioned it to me.” Chance had seen it as a win-win situation. His mother occupied with a renter who had a baby. Rayne provided with a comfortable home.

“So, we see each other outside of work sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“That explains it, then.”

“Explains what?”

“I can’t remember anything after I left Phoenix, but your eyes are familiar.” She blushed, pink coloring her pale cheeks.

“Like I said, we’re not strangers, but we’re not anything more than coworkers, either.”

“Good.”

“Good? I think I’m insulted,” he said, and she smiled, flashing her dimple.

“It’s nothing personal. I mean, if I were going to date again, I wouldn’t discount you out of hand.”

“That very … magnanimous of you.”

“That’s a big word, Chance, and my head is pounding too hard for a witty response. So how about I just say I’m out of the dating game and happy to be, and we leave it at that?”

“We can do that.”

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes, fell silent, and he let the conversation die.

She looked pale and fragile, her golden hair matted and stained with blood, but she was in better shape than her totaled car. It had flipped at least once when she ran off the road, and if she hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, she’d probably be dead.

He frowned, pacing across the room and staring out the window. Streetlights illuminated the parking lot, gleaming off the icy pavement. Not a good night for anyone to be out. Especially not someone who wasn’t used to driving in slick conditions.

But Rayne had left a client and driven to the airport. Why? It was a question he wanted to ask. One he knew she couldn’t answer. Below the window, someone moved through the parking lot, sticking to the shadows, avoiding the golden glow of the streetlights. Something about the figure’s furtive movements made the hair on the back of Chance’s neck stand on end.

As a chaplain in the army, he’d been in his share of danger zones. He knew the hair-raising, blood-pulsing feeling of impending trouble.

Someone was in my room.

That’s what Rayne had said, and he’d chalked her fear up to head injury and confusion.

Maybe there was something more to it, though.

Something more than the cleaning crew or her imagination.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Chance tensed, turning as the door swung open.

A balding man in his mid-fifties stepped into the room. Lab coat buttoned, stethoscope hanging from his pocket, he pulled Rayne’s chart from the end of the bed, glancing at it as he greeted Chance. “I’m Dr. Donahue. I’ll be the attending physician while Ms. Sampson is here.”

“That shouldn’t be too long, Doctor. I’m planning on leaving as soon as you unhook me from this IV,” Rayne said without opening her eyes.

“How about we see how you’re doing before we talk about getting the IV out or going home?” The doctor flashed a light in Rayne’s eyes, asked a few questions that she could answer, a few that she couldn’t.

Chance should probably go.

Probably.

But he didn’t.

Being a chaplain had hardwired him to be concerned for the sick and the struggling. Rayne was both.

That was a good enough reason to stay, but there were other reasons as well.

He might have spent the better part of two months avoiding her, but he hadn’t been able to ignore Rayne. She’d made a good reputation for herself at work, a good reputation in the community. Chance’s mother adored her. Everyone at Grace Christian Fellowship admired and respected her.

Chance would be lying if he said he hadn’t been pulled in by her sweet smile and contagious energy. He might be out of the dating game, but he wasn’t blind. So he was staying because he cared.

There was nothing wrong with that.

He could care without becoming too involved.

Sure you can.

He scowled, pacing back to the window as the doctor continued his examination. Outside, sheets of ice fell from the charcoal sky, pinging off the ground and cars, shimmering on trees and bushes. A shadow shifted at the edge of the lot, merged with another shadow. Two figures standing in the icy downpour at midnight with the wind chill dipping to twenty below?

Not something any sane person would do, but that didn’t mean anything sinister was going on.

Someone was in my room.

Rayne’s words drifted through his mind again, and he couldn’t ignore them or the quicksilver shot of adrenaline that flooded his veins.

Maybe nothing was going on.

Probably nothing was.

But it wouldn’t hurt to check things out.

He buttoned his coat, pulled on his gloves. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where are you going?” Rayne asked, her eyes tracking his movements, her face pale as paper as the doctor probed the bump on her head.

“Just out to the parking lot.”

“Why?”

Good question.

I’m going to chase shadows didn’t seem like a good answer, so he kept it simple. “I need to check out a few things.”

She frowned. “What things?”

“You ask an awful lot of questions for someone with a concussion. You know that?”

“You avoid a lot of questions for someone who has nothing to hide.”

“Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone, okay?” He walked into the corridor before she could respond, jogging down two flights of stairs and out into the frigid November night. Cold wind bit through his coat and whipped ice into his eyes, nearly blinding him.

Definitely not a night to stand in a parking lot chatting.

He pulled up his hood, used it to shield his eyes as he crossed the nearly empty lot. No sign of the men who’d been there. He stood where they’d been, looked at the building, his gaze drawn to the only lit room on the second floor.

Lights flashed at the far end of the lot, a car engine roaring to life. He watched as the truck crawled toward him. Tinted windows made it impossible to see the driver, but Chance’s skin crawled, his body humming with adrenaline.

Danger.

He jumped back, nearly slipping on the ice.

The truck rolled by, turned onto the road, drove away.

Nothing unusual about someone leaving the hospital.

So why did Chance feel so uneasy?

He walked back into the hospital, jogged up the stairs, knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Rayne called, and he stepped into the room, scowling when he caught sight of her. Somehow, in the few minutes he’d been gone, she’d managed to get rid of the doctor and pull on black slacks.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out how to get a shirtsleeve over this IV.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask why.”

“Then don’t.”

“You’re ornery when you’re hurt, Goldilocks.”

“I’m ornery, period.”

“So, why are you trying to get that sleeve over the IV?”

“I can’t walk outside dressed in a hospital gown.”

“You’re planning to walk outside with an IV?”

“No. I’m planning to go down the hall and ask a nurse to remove the IV. Then I’m going to walk outside.”

“And?”

“Hopefully, hitch a ride back to my apartment with you.”

“What does the doctor think of that plan?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“But I’m sure he mentioned how long he thought you should stay.”

“At least until tomorrow morning, but that’s not working for me. I keep saying I need to be with my daughter, and I mean it.” She shoved her feet into black pumps, clutching a sweater as if she really thought she was going to leave.

“You leaving isn’t working for me.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” She looked exhausted, the bruise on her head appearing deeper and more vivid. Another bruise stained her cheek, blue and black the only color on her pale face.

“You need to lie down. You’re pale as paper.”

“I need to see my daughter. I’ve tucked her into bed every night for eight months. She must have wondered where I was tonight. Wondered if I were coming back.”

“My mother is taking good care of her.”

“Your mother isn’t her mother. I am. What if she wakes up tonight crying for me? And what about tomorrow morning when she wakes up and I’m not there?”

“She’ll be—” He was going to say fine, but a tear slipped down Rayne’s cheek.

She brushed it away impatiently, sniffed back more, and all his reasons for convincing her to stay at the hospital suddenly didn’t seem nearly as important as getting her home to Emma.

“I’ll get a nurse to take out the IV. You stay here.”

“Thanks.” She offered a watery smile, and something in his chest shifted, warmed. He ignored it.

It took a half hour to track down the doctor and find a nurse who wasn’t too busy to unhook the IV.

Not a long time, but it seemed like an eternity, the clock ticking while Rayne sat alone in her hospital room.

Alone, and she’d seen someone standing in her room before Chance had found her crumbled on the ground.

Alone, and two men had been lingering in the hospital parking lot.

Alone.

Unprotected.

He jogged the last few yards to the room and walked in.

Rayne sat on the edge of the bed, a telephone pressed to her ear, a scowl etching lines in her pale face.

She met his eyes and frowned. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock?”

“The door was open. Why bother?”

“Because …” She paused, cocking her head to the side and speaking to whomever was on the other end of the phone line. “Yes, someone is here with me, and since you put me on hold … Look, Michael, you called me. I’m sorry the prayer chain gave you the impression that I was on death’s door. I’m not. As a matter of fact, I feel fine.”

“Liar,” Chance mouthed, and Rayne wrinkled her nose and turned away.

“Thank you for your concern. Good night.” She gently set the phone back in the receiver, and Chance had the distinct impression that she would rather have slammed it.

“I take it that wasn’t a friend.”

“My ex-fiancé. My mother called the prayer chain coordinator at my old church and told her I was awake and lucid. Michael just got home from work and got the message. He called to see how I was feeling.”

“At one in the morning?”

“He said he didn’t realize how late it was until he’d already dialed.”

“Who doesn’t know what time it is?”

“Michael. Were you able to find a nurse?” She changed the subject, and he went with it.

“Yes, I had to find the doctor and get him to write the order first. Sorry it took so long.”

“Actually, I dozed off for a while and woke up when the phone rang, so it didn’t seem like that long at all.” She smoothed hair away from her bruised cheek, her hand trembling slightly.

From pain?

Fear?

Fatigue?

The phone call?

“Are you sure you’re up to leaving?”

“I know I’m not up to staying.” She stood and swayed, her eyes closing as she sagged toward him.

He grabbed her waist, his palms pressed against cool cotton and taut muscles.

“Sorry. I think I got up too quickly.” She eased away, and he had the urge to tighten his grip, hold on a little longer.

Not a good direction for his thoughts to be going.

“You’d better sit back down.” His tone was gruffer than he’d intended, but Rayne didn’t seem to notice.

She also didn’t seem to have noticed that he’d told her to sit down.

She crossed the room, and dug through the bag of things his mother had packed and brought to the hospital earlier. He hadn’t looked inside but, knowing his mother, it contained everything Rayne would need for a month-long stay.

“Did you pack all this?” Rayne asked, pulling out a blue shirt, her hands still shaking.

She definitely needed to sit down.

“My mother did. Now how about you do what I suggested and sit before you fall?”

“I’m not going to fall.” But she sat anyway, dropping into a chair so quickly he wondered if her legs had gone out from under her.

He grabbed a pitcher of water from the table near the bed and poured some into a paper cup. “Here, drink this.”

“I’d rather not.”

“And I’d rather not watch you pass out.”

“Would you rather watch me lose my lunch?”

“That bad, huh?” He grabbed a paper towel from the bathroom, wetted it and pressed it against the back of her neck. Silky curls fell across his knuckles, and he caught the muted scent of flowers and rain drifting from her hair. A breath of spring amid the antiseptic smells that lingered in the hospital.

“I’ll be okay. I just need some fresh air.”

If her pallor was any indication, she needed more than fresh air, but before Chance could say as much, a nurse bustled into the room, eyeing Rayne with the same concern Chance felt.

“I hear you’ve decided to leave us,” the nurse said, and Rayne nodded.

“I have to get home to my daughter.”

“How will you care for your daughter if you can’t care for yourself?”

“I’ll—”

“My mother will help out,” Chance cut in. Arguing wasn’t going to do any of them any good. Rayne had made up her mind. The best thing they could do was move things along so he could get her home where she could rest—and where he could keep her safe.

The nurse took out the IV, and Chance walked out into the hall, waiting there while Rayne changed.

Definitely a long day working its way into a long night, and he wasn’t even sure why he was at the hospital waiting for Rayne. She’d made plenty of friends since she’d moved to Spokane. He could have called any one of them.

He hadn’t.

“All right. We’re ready.” The nurse wheeled Rayne into the hall, and Chance followed them down to the lobby and out into the early-morning darkness. Beyond the portico, the pavement glistened with ice, the winter storm still howling.

Why had Rayne left a meeting with a client and driven to the airport on such a terrible night?

He drove his SUV to the portico, helped Rayne into the passenger seat.

“We have a twenty-minute ride ahead of us. Why don’t you rest for a while?”

She didn’t respond, just leaned her head back and closed her eyes, the bruises on her face dark and angry-looking.

He pulled out onto the highway, ice turning to snow as he crawled along the slick road and into the hills of Green Bluff. Within minutes, white powder covered the road and the thick evergreens that lined it. The world lay silent and still, everyone and everything taking cover from the weather.

The dirt road that led to the farm and orchards where he’d grown up curved around barren fields. He passed the cottage he’d been living in since he’d left the army. Passed the matching cottage that his mother’s only farmhand used.

The farmhouse stood a quarter mile away, the porch light burning brightly the same way it had every night of Chance’s childhood.

Home.

That’s what it felt like. As a kid, he’d dreamed of big cities and exciting people. He’d wanted the thrill that came with new places and new faces. Working as an army chaplain had given him an opportunity to experience those things. For ten years, he’d served God, served his country, served his own desire to explore the world.

Now …

What?

He was backtracking, finding the easy pace of small-town life more fulfilling than he’d imagined it could be. Finding that serving God could be done just as easily at home as it could far away and finding it way too easy to forget the mistakes of the past and embrace something new.

He frowned, glancing at Rayne as he pulled into his mother’s driveway.

He wasn’t embracing anything. He was helping out a coworker, bringing a young mother home safe to her daughter, doing the kind of thing he’d done dozens of times over the years.

He was helping. Then he was going home and getting a few hours of sleep before the sun came up and another day began. He had a client to meet with in the morning. A fence to fix at the edge of the orchards. A to-do list half a mile long.

Rayne was just one more thing on that list.

Get her home safe.

That’s all he’d needed to do.

He’d done it.

Mission accomplished.

Somehow, though, as he opened the door and rounded the SUV, he had a feeling there was going to be a whole lot more to keeping Rayne safe than simply getting her home.

THREE

“Rayne?” Someone nudged her shoulder, and Rayne pushed the hand away, wanting to sink back into dreams and away from the throbbing pain in her head.

“Go away.” She didn’t open her eyes. No sense doing that, seeing as how she had no intention of moving. Every breath, every heartbeat brought more pain, and she had no desire to see what would happen if she actually did more.

“Come on, Goldilocks, are you really going to make me carry you?” The words were muttered against her ear as she was scooped up, pressed close to a hard chest.

Goldilocks?

Not Michael, then. He only ever called her Rayne. No sweetie or darling or honey. Just Rayne.

“I can walk,” she mumbled, but she didn’t want to walk, didn’t want to even open her eyes.

“Sure you can.” Not a stranger’s voice, and she tried to grasp a memory, hold on to it long enough to remember where she’d heard it.

Cold wind stung her cheeks, and she shivered as the world shifted and moved beneath her. A door opened, warmth replaced cold, and she knew she should open her eyes, look around, see where she was. Instead, she let her head rest against solid warmth, let herself drift away again.

“Chance! You scared twenty years off my life!” A female voice pulled her from darkness, and she opened her eyes, saw nothing but thick black leather. A coat. Chance’s coat. Images flashed through her mind. Blue-gray eyes and a hard, handsome face. New memories, not the missing ones, but at least she had them.

She just needed to turn her head, and she’d see the woman who’d spoken, but Rayne wasn’t sure moving was a good idea. Her stomach churned, bile rising up as Chance shifted his grip.

“Sorry, Mom. Rayne insisted on leaving the hospital and coming back to take care of Emma.”

“She’s a good mother. I wouldn’t have expected anything less. How is she doing?”