Private Eye Protector. Shirlee McCoy
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