Guarding Raine (Security Ops) Read Free

day Mac was swinging down from the sleek black pickup that had his company’s logo painted on its side. He stopped for a moment after he got out, eyes narrowed against the bright afternoon sun as he studied Raine Michaels’s home. Compared to most he’d passed on his way through the Valley, this one was completely unpretentious. Unlike most of its neighbors, it was two-storied and had a large wooden porch running across the front. A double garage was attached. The paint was blindingly white, the contrasting trim painted black. Pots of bright red geraniums lined the porch steps.
    Mac didn’t go immediately to the door. Instead, he walked all around the house, noting the spacing of the windows, the doors, the overgrown brush close to the house. When he’d reached the front again, he turned slowly around, squinting in the direction from which he’d come. There was a semicircular drive, each end leading to the road. He frowned when he counted half a dozen cars parked haphazardly along the drive. He’d obviously arrived in the midst of some kind of party.
    He climbed the steps and knocked at the screen door. When no one came to answer, he repeated the action. The seconds ticking by stretched into minutes. Mentally cursing, he pushed the door open and walked inside. He let the screen bang behind him, further announcing his presence, although there didn’t seem to be anyone around who would care. He sauntered through the spacious hall, stopping to look through each doorway.
    The first room on the right appeared to be a den. The walls were lined with bookcases. Two men sat hunched over a table there, arguing vehemently. Neither looked up at his arrival. Mac went on to the next room, which he guessed to be a family room. A large curved sectional couch sat in front of a large screen TV and entertainment center. One wall sported a large stone fireplace with a huge mirror hanging over it. An ornate grandfather clock stood in a corner. The room was empty.
    In the large kitchen he found a pretty blond woman sitting on the counter, swinging her feet while she talked on the telephone. She raised her eyebrows at him and smiled, her look full of appreciation as it trailed over his dark green shirt and jeans-clad thighs. But when he asked, “Raine Michaels?” she merely shook her head at him and continued her conversation on the phone.
    The dining room was empty, but he found seven more people in what had probably at one time been a living room. It had obviously been converted to a studio, with bare floors and a wall of windows. Several easels were set up, with four men and three women sitting before them, all immersed in their work. “Where can I find Raine Michaels?” he asked. Only one person in the room looked up at his words, and she merely shrugged. In growing irritation, Mac exited the room and started up the open stairway. He wandered freely through each of the four bedrooms and three baths upstairs, finding all of them empty. He passed a young couple in the hallway, but as had happened downstairs, neither person questioned his presence.
    The remaining door was closed, so he banged on it with one knuckle before pushing it open. The room appeared to be yet another studio, with an easel set up in front of a window. The young man standing before it had his back to the door and didn’t look up, although the squeak of the old hinges made no secret of Mac’s entrance. Tiring of the search, Mac determined to end it. “Hey, kid,” he drawled. “Where can I find Raine Michaels?”
    Stiffening at the sound of his voice, the person didn’t immediately answer.
    Mac’s patience snapped. “Look, sonny, I’m not asking for the secret of life here. Just one quick answer. You do know the woman whose house you’re in, don’t you?”
    “Intimately,” came the wry response, as the person turned around.
    When they were face to face, Mac was immediately aware of his mistake. This was no boy, although with the slight build beneath the