Yours for the Night (30 page)

“You stay here, let me get your car warmed up, then I’ll follow you home.” It was on the edge of his tongue to ask if he could stay when they got there, but he bit down. Too much too soon, and he wasn’t even sure how she was going to react to this once it set in.

Heading out into the cold, his body was still so hot from their lovemaking that he barely needed his coat. It was snowing harder now, and it took him a few minutes, but he found her car and started it. When he opened the driver’s door, she was there, waiting.

“You’re all set.”

She nodded, and stepped forward, seeming awkward and unsure. He marveled—this woman who had just ridden him with such confidence and intention that he had almost spontaneously combusted underneath her was now uncertain about what to do next? He met her halfway, and slipped his arms around her, pulling her close, and sighed a deep breath of relief when hers went around him as well. They stood like that for a quiet moment, and then she pulled away gently, and gave him a warm look before getting into her car. He went to his, and followed her out of the lot.

Neither of them noticed that by the corner of the magazine’s office building, a figure in a long dark coat stood watching, deftly sliding into the shadows as they drove by.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, any hopes Raine might have had about the stalker going away were leveled. There was a message on her desk to come down to Duane’s office immediately, and without so much as turning on her own computer, she headed straight there.

The news was not great. She had not been able to deal with her reader correspondence for more than a week, due to the chaos in her life, and had been planning on taking care of it that very day. But apparently the stalker decided to take care of it for her. Raine sat in shocked silence as Duane explained.

“Somehow, he got into your email, and got hold of all your reader notes—and responded to them. The responses were insulting or sarcastic. He used every offensive word in the book, Raine. I’ve had phone calls and emails flooding in nonstop complaints, demands to cancel subscriptions, and we’ve been explaining that there’s a problem and giving the readers an extra year for free to convince them not to cancel.”

He looked down, shook his head.

“We can’t afford this, we are still a relatively new publication, you know that. I think readers would believe it wasn’t you who wrote the replies, and we plan on printing an immediate explanation and apology on the website and in the next issue. But this is a real mess, Raine. I know it’s not your fault, but it’s not good.”

Raine nodded, barely containing her fury that someone had interfered with her work this way, and had tried to tarnish her reputation with her readers.

“I know, Duane. I don’t know how he could have gotten in. Jack told me that he had sealed up the network, and there was no way he could have gotten in again.”

She unwrapped her fingers that had been gripping the chair arm like a vise, stood, and squared her shoulders. “I’ll send personal thanks and apologies to each of the readers affected. Can you tell me their names?”

Duane looked stressed, and paced around to the back of his desk, staring out the window for a moment, and then looking back at Raine. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, not knowing what that look meant, but she knew she wasn’t going to like it. He sighed, and looked her in the eye, clearly ill at ease.

“Sure, you can do that, I will get you the names. It will probably help. But until this thing is over, the publisher wants you to take a break.”

He held up a hand, staying her immediate objection.

“Raine, listen—I went to bat for you, and you know I want you here. But right now, they feel you are indirectly making the magazine a potential target, and if this guy would go this far, then he may be willing to do a lot more damage, and we can’t risk it. Neither can you. A few weeks off—paid—is not so bad, right? Maybe he will lose interest, maybe he’ll do something stupid and the police will catch him. Either way, you can still work independently.”

Raine sat again, miserable. “How are you supposed to explain that I’m not here? Why I’m not at meetings?” she said, her voice reflecting the numbness she was feeling.

Duane nodded. “Well, if anyone asks, you are taking part of your vacation, sick, working from home, whatever. It’s just until this thing blows over, Raine—then you are back here, no problem.”

She raised her eyes to his. “What if it doesn’t blow over? What am I supposed to do? The police said they can’t help, the magazine wants me out....” Her voice started hitting a hysterical pitch, though she hated it, she couldn’t control it. Duane was around the desk, his hands firm on her shoulders.

“No, we don’t want you out—you aren’t losing your job, okay?—I promise. Get it out of your head that you are in trouble here. But try to see the situation from our perspective, Raine. This may ultimately be safer for you, too—it’s obviously too easy for him to get at you here. Just take a few weeks to let it settle down. Then if it continues when you come back, we will have to find some way to get the authorities more aggressively involved.”

“But right now you don’t see the point in doing that? I know, the publisher doesn’t want the bad press. You know, he may come looking for me even if I am not here.” She chilled at the thought.

Duane sighed, and nodded. “I will talk to the police again, and see if we can get them to move on anything. Until then, maybe you should take a real vacation, get away from here, visit home or something. Go to the beach somewhere warm. Get out of the target zone. Don’t worry about the next issue. We can expand Gwen’s section to fill the space for one month.”

Raine didn’t—couldn’t—respond. Now he was cutting her articles? She wouldn’t be in the next issue. Her heart sunk. Her readers would probably think she was fired.

She would be damned if she would go on a
vacation
when her life was falling apart. She was going to find out who—and why—starting with how someone could have accessed her computer after Jack had said it was safe. Anger flowed through her veins, replacing numbness, and she stood, and left his office without a word, heading straight for the basement.

10

“J
ACK
.” R
AINE
STOOD
in the doorway of the small, softly lit office. She was surprised, it was nothing like she would have expected. The way Gwen had described the basement made it seem like something out of a sci-fi thriller, but while there were many, many computers humming, it was basically just another floor of offices.

Jack’s office was particularly nice. Twice the size of her own. He had eschewed the fluorescent lights for lamps that sat on the desk and a wooden bookcase, and several plants appeared to be thriving in spite of the artificial light.

He was bent over his desk, angled away from the door, set back in a corner. Not the typical power-position office design. This office design stated: “Don’t bug me if it’s not important.”

Well, this was important, and he apparently hadn’t heard her the first time. She stepped into the room—something smelled very nice—and walked up directly behind him. “Jack.”

He looked up calmly. He had been so focused she had expected him to jump, or at least startle, or scowl. Instead, he smiled. It was a warm—no, hot—smile that made awareness skitter over her skin as time stopped for a second and she remembered every moment of the night before. God, she had been so riled by the meeting with Duane, she had forgotten when she’d stepped into his office that just a little more than twelve hours before, they’d had wild sex in the backseat of his car. She was completely knocked back. Wow. That was one killer smile. And it was for her.

“What?” he said.

“Hmm?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Um, you said, ‘Jack’—twice—and I said, ‘What?’”

She frowned. “If you heard me the first time why didn’t you answer?”

“I’m sorry, I was just finishing a thought on this report. Someone fried my mind last night—more than my mind, actually—and I am having a little trouble concentrating today.”

“Oh.” There was that smile again. He got up and walked to her, standing so close she just wanted to fall against him and forget it all.

“So, what can I do for you?”

Raine raised an eyebrow now, not sure if she’d heard a suggestive inflection in this simple question. Her anger was dissolved by the smile and the comforting atmosphere of the office, and she walked over and slumped into a chair, closed her eyes, raising her hands to her head.

“He got into my email.”

“Tell me.”

All jokes aside now, he turned his full attention to her. She relayed the details of the break-in, and what the stalker had done to her readers. Jack’s eyes went to ice, then fire, as he listened.

“Jack, I guess these things aren’t infallible, but how could he have done this, and not have left a trace? I thought you said it was impossible. That things were locked up.”

Jack nodded. “They are. I scanned the network this morning for any intrusions in the last twenty-four hours, and there were none. I changed your email login last week. But there are a lot of ways still that he could have gotten your address book—a single-purpose virus, or a trojan attached to one of those earlier emails—not all of this stuff is easily detectable, or detectable at all—it depends on how good this guy is, and how determined. But I’m sorry, Raine. What did Duane say?”

Raine tried to follow the explanation. Trojans? What the heck? She shook her head, and made a note to ask what those things were—insofar as computers were concerned—later.

“He said the publisher wants me to take a ‘vacation.’” She spat the word out derisively. “They think I am indirectly making the magazine a target, and that if I go away for a while, the problem will, too.”

She looked up, and was shocked. Jack was at the boiling point. She had never seen him so angry, not even with her. But his voice was calm—in the way a frozen lake was calm.

“I’ll talk to him. You shouldn’t be punished for this. The publisher is an ass.”

He started to leave the office, and she stood quickly, catching his elbow. “Jack, please don’t. I mean, thanks, but it’s not Duane’s fault. He did what he could. He says if the guy is still out there when I come back, they will try to get the police to do something more aggressive.”

Jack glowered. “Well, that’s just dandy. How noble of them to be willing to put you out there to take bullets for the magazine.”

When she paled, he shook his head, and put his hand over hers and squeezed.

“Not literally, Raine, I’m sorry—bad phrasing. But it’s much safer for you to be here all day with all these people around, than home, or anywhere else, alone. They are just worried about their precious bottom line instead of thinking about your safety first. Their attitude is inexcusable, and I intend to talk with Duane about it.”

She nodded, seeing he was committed to the cause. And it wouldn’t hurt, having someone in her corner. In fact, it felt pretty damn good.

“How did you find out about this? Was there anything in your email today?”

Raine blinked. “Duane left a note on my desk that he had to talk to me—that’s how I found out. I haven’t even checked my email, I completely forgot.”

Jack nodded, and guided her to the seat. “Do it now, let’s see if there are any more nasty little surprises there.”

Raine nodded, sitting at the laptop and tapping in her login information. She swallowed hard when she saw the long list of emails pop up, all from a strange-looking account, all with the same subject heading:

Whore!

The word streamed down the screen in an endless parade of slurs, hundreds of lines all the same, filling screen after screen after screen.

She heard Jack swear, and he leaned over her shoulder, opening one of the emails, and found no message. Tapping away at the keys, and cursing mightily, he finally slammed the laptop shut.

“There’s no trace. At least at this level. I’m going to have to dig deeper. This slime won’t keep breaking in, I can guarantee you that.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?” Her voice was hushed, as she felt the crushing wave of blues set in. “I won’t be here. And I am not going to send one single email from home. I am not even going to hook up at all. No more internet for me.”

Jack rubbed her shoulders, digging his fingers into her neck, where the muscles were so tense they were hard as a rock. He wanted to comfort—he wanted to
do
something—this whole situation was making him feel ineffectual, and now he couldn’t even make sure she was okay here at work. With him. He inhaled the scent of her hair, and continued massaging until he felt her loosen up.

“Feel better?”

“My neck does. Thanks. You probably just helped me avoid a killer headache.”

Although his hands on her had inspired aches in other regions of her body, which surprised her, given the circumstances. Suddenly the softly lit office seemed close and intimate, and she realized his hands hadn’t left her shoulders, but rested there, rubbing the hollows of her shoulder blades. Funny, she had never before thought of that as such an erotic spot. But it was now.

“Raine.”

“Hmm?” His hands were melting her stress into a light buzz.

“Why do you think the sudden change in attitude? This guy seemed to want to impress you, sent you expensive roses, cleared up your bills—he wants you to know how skillful he is, how much control he has, how much he likes you—but he seemed to be trying to do good things for you, perverse as they were. But now, well, now he sounds pissed off.”

Raine nodded slowly. “Well, it’s not exactly a stable person who does this kind of thing in the first place. Maybe he is angry that I haven’t acknowledged his gifts, or that you changed my email login.”

Jack nodded. Possible. There was another possibility, too. That he had seen them. Perhaps last night, in the parking lot. Perhaps earlier in the day, holding hands at the police station, when Jack had followed her home, or when they had been talking in the café. This guy could be watching. He could be jealous. Jack didn’t want to let Raine know that—she had enough to deal with; he didn’t want to scare her with suppositions, but he had a bad feeling.

The stalker had somehow figured out that she had a man—him—in her life. He was angry. That made him dangerous. And for Jack, it made it even more personal. He couldn’t share this with anyone, not when it was just speculation, and not when he had to send her home, alone. He felt anger rise again, bitter in his mouth; oh, he would be talking to Duane about this. The magazine wasn’t just going to abandon her. And neither was he.

Raine wasn’t looking at him but felt his hands go still on her shoulders, and she could almost feel him thinking. She wondered about what.

“Raine. I want you to move out of your house, and maybe move in with Gwen.”

“I already told you, Jack, I am not going to do that....”

“Listen, I don’t think sex with Neal is so all-consuming to her that she would put you at risk. It’s nice of you to be thoughtful, but you need to consider the idea more carefully.”

“No. I’m not letting this maniac drive me out of my home or endanger my friends.”

“Then move in with me.”

He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that she almost thought she’d imagined it.

She stood, facing him. “I can’t do that, Jack. I am not leaving my house. It’s bad enough I’m being booted out of here.”

Jack’s eyes sparked, and he realized hers did, too, her jaw set as stubbornly as his own.

“Then we’ll talk to Duane and have the magazine pick up the expense of some sort of protection. The cheap bastards are going to do something.”

Raine nodded, not opposed to that idea, and feeling a little disconcerted that she had won that argument so easily. And a little disappointed—did this mean that Jack was opting out?

She had gotten used to the idea of him being her self-appointed protector, but she guessed she couldn’t just expect him to go on being her bodyguard. He had work to do, and he had been spending a lot of time watching over her. Without really thinking too much about it, she had let herself get a bit dependent on him, and that wasn’t like her at all. Usually she just depended on herself. But he had insinuated himself into her life. He was her…well, her lover. Or maybe it was just those two times? She felt a sinking sense of loss, and the issue added even more confusion to everything she was already feeling.

Jack watched the emotions play over her face. She didn’t realize what an open book those green eyes were. Surprise, fear, anger, sadness and something else—despair? Loss?

He was struggling with his own demons. This situation allowed him to see her differently, to look a little deeper than he had before. He was losing emotional ground, and fast. While he didn’t want her in this dangerous position, he had to admit a certain male pull of satisfaction at being her protector.

There was the beginning of something between them. He had felt it with her online, as Rider and Nilla, and at her house that one passionate night, and last night. God, though they hadn’t spoken of it, last night she’d blown him away. He didn’t know what was next.

He needed to know she was safe, and now he wouldn’t be able to have any control over that. He was sure he could push the magazine into anteing up for some protection. After all, all he had to do was mention a lawsuit if something happened to her and they would be held responsible. But even if they got the best protection in the country, he wouldn’t sleep easy with it. Not unless it was him. Because he was starting to care. And that meant he had more investment in protecting her than some stranger being paid a high fee.

But he wasn’t exactly in a position to do too much for her now. He eyed the computer; perhaps the best way he could really be of help would be to track down this psycho. Then they could just forget it. Having focused on this purpose, he felt more steady.

Raine had been lost in her own thoughts, and as if someone flipped a switch, they both came back to the present, and found they had been staring wordlessly at each other. Fire caught in her cheeks, and she looked away. She must be losing it, she had never behaved this way with any man; Jack was definitely a different experience for her. And he had been great, there was no denying it. But now she was on her own. She sucked up a breath.

“Well, I have some stuff to do here, and I guess I will head home. On my
vacation
.” She drew out the word, ended on a sigh, and Jack reached out to touch her hair lightly with his fingers.

“Hey, not a bad deal if you can get it, having extra time off and getting paid for it. Make good use of the time.”

She shrugged. “I suppose. I can get ahead on some story ideas and work for when I get back, get ahead of the game.”

“Relax a little, Raine. This has been a tough week.” He kept his hand in her hair. “Would you mind if I dropped by?”

Her heart skipped a little and she smiled. “That would be great. I don’t think I have all that much on my calendar.”

He smiled at the light comment, and felt his own tension ease as he backed away and nodded.

“Good, then don’t be surprised to see me on your doorstep. Probably in a few hours.”

She nodded, and turned to leave, stopping by the door for a moment to turn and look at him again. He wanted to go with her, to hold her, to make things easier, but instead his eyes sent her a silent promise that she wouldn’t be facing this alone.

* * *

R
AINE
SAT
IN
HER
CAR
out in front of her home. In the backseat she had a briefcase full of work and a box of papers she had brought from her file cabinet. A few people had wondered why she was clearing out, and she had managed to smile blithely and keep her voice normal as she chatted briefly about taking a working vacation, and listened to comments about her luck and how they wished they could have it.

Yeah, right.

She couldn’t seem to get out of the car. She should feel free, right? Unfettered. All this spare time, paid leave, she could get work done, sleep, exercise, read and clean her house. She had plenty to do, and now she was free to do it. But she didn’t feel free. She felt…exposed. Abandoned.