Guarding Raine (Security Ops) by Kylie Brant Page B

frowned at the woman before him, looking back so defiantly, and wondered why on earth she annoyed him so much. It shouldn’t matter to him that she questioned his every move, even though he knew damn well that her accountant and probably her agent had freer rein. And he was protecting her , for crissakes, not just her money or career. Most likely it was just that Raine Michaels was turning out to be a big pain in the ass, at a time in his life when he had even less patience than normal for dealing with big pains.
    “Well?” she prompted, interrupting his musings.
    “Consider yourself consulted,” he said shortly, and turned to leave the room. Over his shoulder, he added sardonically, “But I’ll sure let you know the next time something comes up that’s open for discussion.”
    Raine stared at his departing back, openmouthed. That man, she fumed, was totally insufferable. She shouldn’t be surprised, since her father had recommended him so highly. No doubt it was considered an admirable trait by Simon Michaels. But it was a bit wearing on her. She walked over to a nearby chair, kicked its leg childishly. She winced as the resulting pain reminded her that she was, as usual, barefoot. She sank into the chair, rubbing her toes, a wry smile pulling at her lips. Every action had a consequence. If she had learned anything in her life, it was that. The thought quickly had the smile fading from her face.
    Her cell rang then, and she startled. She did an automatic search of her pockets before recalling she’d set it down…maybe in the kitchen. She never took it to the studio with her. After the one ring itt was silenced abruptly, indicating that it had been picked up. She caught a look at her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, one hand held to her heart, eyes as wide as a deer’s caught in the headlights.
    Get a hold of yourself, Raine , she scolded herself mentally. First she’d fallen apart in front of Macauley O’Neill, and now a ringing cell phone was spooking her. She took some deep breaths and sat down in the chair, folding her legs under her. Her eyes went to the window. The expanse of green lawn gently rolling to the road, and the walnut grove in the distance, painted a scene that never failed to calm her. Today, however, its usual peace was jarred by the sight of yet another truck rumbling up the driveway toward her house.
    She turned her gaze away, troubled. The unceasing activity surrounding her home was impossible to ignore, as were the reasons for it. She’d tried to relegate the need for Macauley O’Neill, or someone like him, to the furthest corner of her mind, telling herself she had energy only to focus on her work right now. But brutal self-honesty was a trait she tried to cultivate, and it forced her to admit that she’d been playing ostrich for the last few weeks. In not allowing her fear from the past to take over, she’d failed to respond appropriately to the threats at all.
    Raine swallowed, self-doubt welling inside her. She’d worked very hard to overcome most of the demons that had haunted her for years. But somehow, today, her modest triumphs over the shadows in her past seemed trivial, like so much window dressing to disguise a vacant storefront. Shivering, she wrapped her arms closer.
    Staring sightlessly at the wall, Raine wondered bleakly whether she had the courage to face being the target of someone’s malice yet again.
     
    “Raine.” Mac’s voice held a note of impatience. He’d looked all over the whole house, fully expecting to find her in her studio, doing that work she was always claiming she was behind on. He hadn’t expected she’d still be in the room in which he’d left her, staring into space.
    She turned her head slowly to look at him, but didn’t get up.
    “The crew has arrived. I’d like you to meet the men who’ll be doing some work here for the next few days.”
    She took a deep breath, then rose. “All right.”
    He glanced at her sharply as she