Guarding Raine (Security Ops) (30 page)

Her good humor vanished abruptly. “No, André, we won’t. I paint what I feel, when I feel it. That’s the quality that brings a painting alive. Haven’t you told me, on many occasions, that one can’t dictate inspiration?”

He became placating. “Of course, I’ve said that. But I thought you understood that this show was of particular importance. People expect a certain style from you. If you want to remain marketable, you have to be true to the element in your pictures that makes them popular.”

She shrugged. “If that’s all that’s bothering you, don’t worry. This painting isn’t for sale, anyway.”

At these words he turned apoplectic. “Not for sale? You must be joking.”

“No,” she drawled wryly. “Actually, my sense of humor walked out the door about the same time this conversation started.”

“You’re beginning to build a respectable reputation, Raine. But you aren’t in a place in your career where you can afford to be temperamental.”

She looked at him warily, wondering if it was more than just her painting of Macauley that was upsetting him. He was always high- strung before a show, but right now there was a wild look in his eyes she’d never seen before. Perspiration dotted his upper lip, although the temperature in the gallery was quite comfortable. “I can afford anything I want, André,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding his words. “My tastes are quite simple. And I wanted to paint a picture for
me
. It’s not going to lead to the collapse of the art world as we know it. Relax. You’ve outdone yourself with the publicity. The gallery has been cleaned up on time. Everything is sailing along perfectly.”

“I haven’t approved of the effect that man has had on you from the first,” he muttered, glaring across the room toward Mac, who’d fallen into conversation with the gallery owner.

“Mac O’Neill and his effect on me, have nothing to do with you,” Raine said firmly, reclaiming his attention. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I won’t let you start dictating what I do and do not paint. I can’t work that way. I don’t think you really want me to.”

“Of course not,” he said stiffly. “You’re free to paint as you wish. But it was my duty as your agent to warn you that such a flagrant departure from your normal style might not be welcomed by your public.”

Her public. Raine’s mouth turned up. André made her sound as if she were royalty. “It’s one picture,” she reminded him gently. “And it’s important to me to have it included in the show.” Seeing Macauley heading for them, she quickly draped the soft tarp over it.

Mac’s eyes went between the two of them shrewdly. But he didn’t comment on the obvious tension in the air. “What else do you need to do here?” he inquired of Raine. “All the pictures have been unloaded.”

“Well, I usually supervise the hanging of them, but I’m sure André can handle that. He has a much better eye than I do.” She touched the agent lightly on the arm. “Would you do that for me, please, André?” It was an obvious peace offering, and after a moment, the man nodded shortly.

“As you wish.” Turning on his heel, he walked rapidly away.

Mac watched him go. “Seems a little more wired than usual,” he observed. “Which is saying something, for him. What’s got him so worked up?”

“I’m not really sure,” Raine said slowly, her eyes still on her agent. “He’s always jumpy before a show, but his behavior today. . .” Shrugging, she looked at Macauley. “I guess I’m finished here. We can go home.”

His gut clenched at her words. Home. He hadn’t had one to speak of since he was a boy living with his parents. Years of military barracks, and then less than luxurious accommodations in whatever hellhole he’d been assigned to, could hardly be called home. Neither could the apartment he lived in now. It was as empty as he was, as his life had been before he met Raine. Usually it was a relief to get back to his own place after one of these jobs, but it was going to seem like a vacuum when he went back this time.

His job protecting her was almost at an end. It was more than Ramirez’s assurances that told him that. The case was rapidly winding down, he could feel it. The certainty filled him with desolation. Because he knew he’d walk away from her then. She’d been through too much in her life already to be saddled with a man who had his own ghosts. A man who had been empty inside for too long to have anything left to offer her.

“Ready?” She smiled at him, and the clouds of despair receded for the moment. She had a special way of looking at him, as if he was something he knew he wasn’t, could never be. But when she smiled at him just that way, he thought dangerous thoughts. As if maybe he could be what she wanted, if he tried hard enough. That was risky thinking, self-delusional and masochistic. He was what he was, and her belief in him didn’t make him any different.

But knowing all that didn’t make him immune to that electrical pull between them. “Yeah,” he said, laying a heavy arm across her shoulders and leading her to the door. “I’m ready.”

There was a car in the drive when they reached home, and Mac eyed it sharply. Anderson jogged over to their van as they pulled up at the gate.

“I let Detective Ramirez in about twenty minutes ago. He said he needed to talk to both of you.”

Mac glanced at Raine and observed the way she swiftly swallowed and imperceptibly straightened. He nodded, pressed the button on the control he’d placed in the van that would release the gate’s mechanism and drove up to the house. He kept a tight hold on Raine’s hand as they walked into the house.

“Detective,” Raine greeted the man as they entered the room.

“Miss Michaels.” Ramirez rose as they entered. He was dressed today in a tan double-breasted suit that made him look more like a game show host than a cop. “I’m glad I didn’t miss you. I’ve got some good news for you today.”

“Well, good. We could use some of that, couldn’t we?” She looked at Mac. His face was set in the expressionless mask that had been so common when they’d first met. She turned to Ramirez.

“We were able to match a set of prints on the last letter you received.” He waited a heartbeat before adding, “They belong to Brian Burnett.”

She wasn’t aware that Mac had moved until she felt his hands on her shoulders. He drew her against his chest, as if offering her his strength. She blinked, a little stunned.

“He was arrested last night. We’ve got him in jail here now. You won’t have to worry about being threatened anymore, Miss Michaels.”

Numbly, Raine shook her head. “I knew it was a possibility after what you said the last time, but I just don’t understand why. Why now, after all these years?”

“Apparently he saw some articles about you in the paper or some magazine.” The man added almost apologetically, “He’s carrying quite a grudge against you. Blames you for his time in jail.” The man shrugged. “Go figure. Anyway, he saw his chance and did a little digging, I suppose. Came up with your address and decided to start terrorizing you. You can’t figure how these guys’ minds work, ma’am. Just be glad we got him when we did.”

“What about when she was run off the road?” Mac demanded. His body was tense behind hers, but his fingers on her shoulders remained gentle. “Who set fire to the porch and tried to trash the gallery? It wasn’t Burnett. The private investigator Simon Michaels had watching him can vouch that Burnett never left L.A.”

The detective shrugged. “You told me yourself that Burnett had lots of unsavory friends who could have perpetrated those incidents at his command. After doing time he must have smartened up enough to want to establish an alibi for himself.”

“Has he—” Raine cleared her throat. Her words had come out hoarse. “Has he admitted to all this?”

The man shook his head. “He’s still proclaiming his innocence. To hear him tell it, he’s a model citizen these days. It’s going to be tough to maintain that, though, with his prints all over that letter.” He rose to his feet. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as soon as possible. You’ve been through enough these last few weeks. I didn’t want to leave you in suspense any longer.”

She managed a smile. “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“I’ll let myself out,” he told her. “You have a good show at that gallery, okay?”

Raine thanked him again, and he left. She sagged against Mac’s chest, and he moved his hands from her shoulders to clasp them around her waist. “I can’t believe it’s over,” she murmured. “And to have him involved in this . . . How in God’s name could he have twisted it all around so that the rape was my fault?”

He hugged her fiercely, his head lowering to lay against hers. “Who knows what goes on in a sicko’s mind? It’s over now. He’ll never hurt you again.” The words were meant to calm himself, as well. The rage that had buoyed in him at the detective’s words was murderous. He’d dearly love to have ten minutes with Burnett and save the county the expense of a trial and a lengthy incarceration.

Sensing the churning emotions that raged through him, Raine said questioningly, “Macauley?” She turned in his arms and looked into his face. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head at wonderment at her question. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I’m okay. I really am. I just can’t believe this is over.”

“It is over,” he whispered into her hair, and the words taunted him with another meaning. The reign of terror was at end, and so was her need for protection. It was over. Relief warred with the now familiar despair. This would likely be the last time he felt her delicate curves pressed up against him, and the thought filled him with another kind of rage. He’d been haunted by flashbacks since he’d left the military, but he suspected they were nothing compared to the torturous nights he had ahead of him. Tantalizing memories of her would wisp across his mind like delicate ghosts, memories of the way she moved or laughed. He’d remember the first time he’d taken her, and seen her eyes widen at the sight of his body over hers. He felt his pulse turn thick and heavy.

His mouth sought hers and was almost rough in its need, desperate in its seeking. She returned his kiss without hesitation, with that sensual generosity that was so much a part of her. She painted his bottom lip with her tongue, then took it between her teeth to worry it gently. But gentleness wasn’t what he wanted from her, and it wasn’t in him to return.

He sank to his knees and took her with him. Never releasing her mouth, he removed her clothes and discarded them. He backed her against the sofa and bent her over the cushion so her breasts jutted upward to his mouth. He ravished them both in turn, using his tongue to paint erotic pictures on her nipples. She moved beneath his lips, writhing and crying out at the sensations. He tightened his hold on her, emotion sluicing through him, and wished this moment could last forever.

Her hands made a mockery of that wish, roaming frantically over his chest and back, urging him to abandon the control he needed so desperately to reach for. Dragging his mouth away from her breasts, he strung a trail of kisses up her neck and fastened on her mouth again. The kiss was hot, deep and wild. He held nothing back, couldn’t, even if he’d thought of it. He was shaking, but so was she. He used his one remaining grasp on sanity to reach for his jeans. He managed to extract the foil packet from his pocket and sheathe himself. Then he reached for her and pulled her beneath him.

Raine made a soft, desperate sound and drew up her knees, urging him forward with hands that were frantic. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he buried himself within her. Deep. And tight. So very tight.

His hands went to her hips and he lifted her to receive his thrust. The sensory bombardment was almost too much to bear, and he clenched his jaw. It was more than sex, it was a connection between them that was as heady as it was inexplicable. Their fusion filled the emptiness in his soul and erased the specters from his mind. He wanted to savor the completeness, and he braced himself on his forearms, attempting to fight the mind-shattering sensation. He bracketed her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his in a slow, searching kiss.

But she wasn’t going to let him wait for the first, fierce, electrifying rush to ease. Hands clutching his shoulders, she lifted her hips, rocking her pelvis hard against his. Mac roughly locked one hand beneath her bottom, sliding the other under her head to keep her mouth sealed to his. His breathing trapped in his heaving chest, he lifted her hips higher, then rolled his hips against hers. Raine uttered a wild cry, and he drank it, wishing he could draw all of her in and keep her there inside him. When she countered his thrust, a haze blurred all his thoughts, and only one need remained. He wanted to erase the horror from her mind, drive away the memory of the man who’d made her life a hell once again. Trying to hang on, he dragged his mouth away and gritted his teeth as she moved convulsively beneath him. He surged into her again, trying to maximize her pleasure, drawing it out until he felt her movements turn more erratic and frantic.

She cried out softly, and her inner convulsions pulled at him. Giving in to the passion, his face contorted, and he gave one last thrust before emptying into her.

Their breathing remained choppy for long minutes. Eddies of pleasure were still chasing down his spine when reason returned to taunt him. His time with Raine had come to an end. He was unable to deny it. The knowledge pounded inside his skull.

The last time. The last time. The last time.

It was over.