Hero in the Nick of Time Page 8

  There was another pause before he spoke again. This time, his voice was not nearly as forceful as it usually was. “McKayla?”

  She wondered if it was just her imagination that made him sound so uncertain. “Yes?”

  There was a false start, followed by still another pause. And then the senior member of Dellaventura Dental, Inc., said, “Your mother and sister aren’t the only ones who worry about you.”

  Was he going to chastise her for forgetting to mention her brothers in this? With her father, she never knew just when she stepped on toes, when she set him off. When she was younger, it had been a point of rebellion not to care, or to pretend that she didn’t. But she was older now, and the games had long since ceased on her part. Her father was a good man, however gruff and devoid of demonstrative feelings, and she owed him her loyalty and respect. He had her love, too, although she really doubted that it mattered to him.

  “I know,” she concluded, “but Danny and Randy don’t like to show it.”

  “That’s not what I meant—that is—” Her father sounded annoyed. She was too tired to try to figure out why this time. “Just be careful, all right?”

  The instruction, standing alone, caught her by surprise. “Is that an order?”

  “No,” he barked, then added a little more quietly, although not much, “it’s a request.”

  Confused, she instinctively covered for him and the awkward moment that was born in the wake of his words. “Don’t worry, Dad. Mrs. Jackson is bringing her triplets for their semi-annual checkup next week. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” She heard her father grunt something almost unintelligible on the other end of the line. A mumbled good-bye was the last thing she heard before the connection was terminated.

  “And good-bye to you,” she murmured, hanging the receiver up.

  Waiting by the hostess’s desk, though close enough to see her, yet far enough to pretend to give her the privacy she might need, Cade straightened when he saw Mac hang up. He met her half way.

  He couldn’t quite read her expression. “What’s wrong?”

  Roused out of her thoughts, she looked up at him as if she’d temporarily forgotten he was there.

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing. Nothing.” But she could see by the look on Cade’s face that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. In his place, she wouldn’t have been, either. Walking beside him, she forged ahead through the door rather than allow him to open it for her. “My father just told me he was worried about me. Not in so many words—words aren’t his chosen method of communication—but in fragments and noises.” Even as she said it, it seemed unreal.

  Taking her literally, Cade smiled as he tried to imagine the exchange between father and daughter. Her father had struck him as a tough customer when he’d met him at the hospital.

  “Must have made for an interesting conversation.” He could see that she was serious. “Didn’t he ever let you know he was worried about you before?”

  “No.” The response was so quick, it was almost automatic. Mac paused to reconsider, trying to be fair. But there wasn’t a single time she could recall, even from her childhood, that her father had expressed concern about her.

  “Worried that I wouldn’t come through, maybe, but about me?” She shook her head. “No, never.”

  Cade hadn’t been wrong in his assessment of her independent, controlling manner. She was accustomed not only to fending for herself, but in taking the helm in most matters. It was obvious that her father expected it of her, just as he expected her respect.

  Maybe he was crazy, but he could have sworn he detected a trace of vulnerability in her again. “Well, like you said, he’s not much on communication.”

  Preoccupied with her own interpretation of the conversation that had taken place, Mac looked at Cade. “What are you saying?” Mac asked.

  Now that he was part of the club, he could well understand how other fathers felt. Other fathers who hadn’t been born with the gift of being able to put their feelings into words.

  “Only that most fathers worry about their kids whether they say it in so many words or not.” The door closed behind him, and he stood on the wide stone step. “It’s a given.” As Mac watched, Cade’s regal-boned, almost-stoic face became animated. There was a light in his eyes she could see even in only the poor illumination from the lanterns along the path leading up to the front entrance. “You watch that tiny creation pop out into the world, take its first breath, and suddenly nothing is ever the same again.” His eyes shifted away from his memories and he looked at Mac. He supposed he was getting carried away, but just this once, because it was Darin’s birthday, because he missed him so much, Cade allowed himself the moment’s indulgence. “Everything is bigger, brighter—scarier.”

  “Scarier?”

  Cade laughed softly to himself. It was a matter of having to be part of the club before understanding settled in.

  “You start thinking in terms of how your child is affected by things. Coffee tables suddenly have edges, not just surfaces. Water glasses become shards of glass waiting to happen.” He enumerated just a fraction of the things that had suddenly concerned him when his son began walking. “The ground gets harder, the distance between the bed and the floor becomes a leap to be attempted only by an experienced stuntman.” He stopped in the lot when he saw the look on her face. “What?”

  Mac had to laugh. “I just can’t picture you worrying about things like that.” He seemed too solid, too much like a man who could see the forest because the trees didn’t get in his way. “Did you?”

  “Not until my son was born,” he admitted. And then, much to his surprise and no little horror, it had been a struggle not to get carried away. Elaine had kept him grounded—until she’d died. And then he’d had to do it all alone.

  Mac thought Cade was giving her father way too much credit. She supposed if she’d have to choose a father for her children, it would be someone like Cade, not someone like her own father, that she’d pick.

  Not that there was much of a need for her to choose anyone, she thought ruefully. Not with the way her life was going these days.

  “Must have been an adjustment for you,” she commented as they reached his car.

  Maybe he was saying too much. It was certainly a lot more than Cade had intended on sharing, but somehow, the words seemed to continue coming, nudged out by feelings he’d tried so hard to keep wrapped up. “One I didn’t mind making.”

  Cade fished out his car keys. Mac looked at him, seeing him in a far different light than she had when she approached him for the first time. “How do you function with him—you know?” She couldn’t make herself say it.

  He shrugged. “You just do.” He turned the key, unlocking her side. “You have to.” Cade opened the door for her. “The alternative is to give up, and giving up is as good as saying he’s gone.” His jaw hardened, an outward sign of the rigid resolve that existed within. “My son is too full of life and energy to be gone.”

  There was something incredibly sexy about him at that moment. Human, and sensitive, and sexy. Mac wasn’t sure just what possessed her, or even what happened, really. One second she was having a normal conversation about fathers with a father, the next, she was stretching up on her toes to brush her lips against his.

  For the briefest of instants, the kiss threatened to flower, to grow into something far more, far different, than the initial contact had been intended. Cade took hold of her shoulders, bracing her, holding her, before he drew back his head, stunned at himself.

  Pulling in a long, shallow breath, he looked at the woman he was holding. Belatedly, he remembered to drop his hands from her shoulders. Something small, elusive and warm was weaving through him, far too slippery to allow capture and examination.

  After a beat, he found that his vocal cords were operational. “What was that for?”

  Nervousness vibrated through Mac. Annoyed, she upbraided herself for allowing a completely stupid indulge
nce to take hold.

  She cleared her throat. “For being a comfort. And for comfort.” Feeling hopelessly self-conscious, something she strove never to allow herself to feel, Mac shoved her hands into her pockets and shrugged. She deliberately looked past his head as she spoke. “It just felt like something that needing doing.” Her voice picked up speed as she floundered. “Chalk it up to being a little rattled, okay? I—”

  “Mac?”

  Her eyes darted to his face and away again; she was afraid she might see humor there at her expense. Her voice was guarded. “Yes?”

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, fighting, he discovered, the very real urge to repeat what he deemed from her countenance she could only think of as a mistake. “I liked it.”

  “I didn’t ask that.” Mac only realized she’d snapped the words out after the fact. Annoyance at her own lack of control on so many levels grew.

  Cade smiled. He’d had a tiny bit of insight into her when she kissed him; far more, he guessed, than she probably would have wanted him to.

  “Yeah, you did,” he assured her. Changing the subject before the indignation she felt compelled to display took her in deeper, he suggested, “Why don’t I take you back to the office? You can pick up your car, drop it off at your place. Maybe even get a few hours’ sleep.” That would be the best thing for her. He knew the signs of exhaustion and she was there. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll go straight to the airport.”

  He made the last sound like a promise. But she didn’t want promises, she wanted action. Immediate action. “But that means much more time that she—”

  He anticipated her words. “The number she called in Phoenix belongs to a law firm,” Cade reminded her patiently. Rounding the hood of the car, he got in on his side. She remained standing on her side, he noted. “We’re probably not going to be able to find anything out in the middle of the night.”

  Giving in, at least for the duration of the debate, Mac got in. The more time that slipped by, the further away Heather felt. Mac could feel herself growing edgier. She yanked at the seat belt buckle, holding it suspended above the slot as she looked at him accusingly. “We might if we break in.”

  She’d seen too many detective thrillers, Cade thought. He started the car. “Only as a last resort.”

  All Mac could think of was Heather, being treated like some sort of commodity instead of a beautiful little girl. Her impatience got the better of her again.

  “What are you, afraid of the illegality of the situation?” she demanded as he drove off the lot. “How legal is it to kidnap a helpless baby?”

  She was asking questions she wouldn’t have if she were thinking clearly. Which only underscored Cade’s point. “You’re getting punchy.”

  Mac didn’t like her weaknesses pointed out. “No, I’m not.” She twisted in her seat to look at him. “But I’d like to take a punch at someone.”

  Cade could see her doing it, too. Not that he really blamed her. “All in good time. But we need to get you home now.”

  “If I’m driving my car, I’ll get myself home.”

  He intended to follow her and then remain in the vicinity for a while, just to assure himself that she wouldn’t double back to the airport and take the next flight out to Phoenix.

  “Just want to see where you live so I don’t waste time traveling up and down little residential side streets, looking for your house early in the morning.”

  Why did Mac have the feeling that there was more to it than he was telling her? “I thought you were going to get in touch with someone about a Phoenix connection?”

  He couldn’t help smiling. She made it sound like something out of an action adventure movie about drug dealers. “And I intend to. But, unlike me, he has a life.”

  There was a time, when the tables had been turned. When he had been the one with a life and Detective Kane Madigan had been the one who lived and slept on the job. Home was just somewhere he received junk mail, a place that could have been described as a medium walk-in closet equipped with a refrigerator.

  But now Kane had a wife and two children and an extended family. People who allowed him to fully exercise that muscle Cade had always believed his friend had—a heart. And now he was the one who had no life beyond his work, no interests beyond the cases he took and the one case that pressed so heavily on his own heart.

  “You think you might be up against a baby-selling ring?” Kane asked.

  “It’s crossed my mind,” Cade admitted as he proceeded to touch on the case’s key points. Cade also relayed the details his contact on the Newport Beach police force had told him. Apparently, the police had uncovered an abandoned dark blue Camry that suspiciously matched the description the first set of bickering paramedics had given.

  Kane made a few notes to himself. Running down kidnappers had become his personal crusade since he had found Jennifer’s baby and he’d married the single mom. “You might have something there. Ours was taken by a woman posing as a nurse. Came in to take the baby for a test and then disappeared off the face of the earth. Until we found her.”

  Cade could only hope that the resolution in Heather’s case would turn out as well. “I love a happy ending.”

  Kane thought of the little girl he’d adopted. He couldn’t love her more than if she were his own. “Yeah, me, too. You’ll want to contact Lieutenant Graham Redhawk. Great guy.” With precise, efficient words he told Cade what he knew about the Phoenix detective. “He was there for us when I was trying to track down Jennifer’s little girl. I’ll give him a call to let him know you’re on your way and I’ll keep good thoughts for you about this.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kane knew that the other man was about to hang up. Part of him was tempted to let him without asking, but that was the coward’s way out. He’d never been accused of that and didn’t intend to begin now. “And Cade?”

  “Yeah?”

  “No word about your boy?”

  “None.” The word felt as if it had been wrenched out of his gut as he said it. Cade thought of the updated photograph Megan had fed into the Web site that dealt with missing and abused children before she’d left the office again. How many more updates would there be before he held his son in his arms again? “It’s late, I’d better go. Thanks again for your help.”

  Cade had his complete sympathy. Kane didn’t know how he would have withstood not knowing where either of his daughters were for the space of a few hours, much less three years. “Don’t mention it. Let me know what happens, okay?”

  At times, faced with nothing but night and his own thoughts, it was hard for Cade to keep his grasp on a positive outlook. But he had no choice. The alternative, if he allowed it through, would kill him.

  So he infused his positive attitude into his voice and promised, “Sure thing.”

  No matter how many times she tossed and turned, searching for that one elusive spot where sleep and oblivion dwelled, Mac couldn’t find it. She couldn’t sleep. Like a child’s top, she was wound up so tightly Mac was certain she’d spin forever if someone released her.

  This wasn’t any good.

  Damn, she should have insisted on getting the redeye instead of agreeing to this, she thought, punching her pillow.

  Defeat circling her, Mac sat up. Dragging a hand through her tousled hair, she looked down at her bed. With tangled sheets and a blanket that was nearly in a knot, it looked as if a battle had been fought there.

  And maybe there had been, she thought groggily. A battle with her emotions.

  Mac pulled her knees up to her chest. She wasn’t going to get any real rest until she found her niece.

  “Damn it, why did this have to happen?”

  The question ricocheted around the small bedroom, moving from space to space unanswered.

  It didn’t matter why, she told herself, what mattered was that it had. What mattered more was getting Heather back.

  But that wasn’t the only thing keeping her up, although it was more
than enough.

  There was something else. Something small and insignificant, but disconcerting for all that. Something that kept her awake just like the tiny pea had kept the princess awake in that long-forgotten fairy tale she could remember reading to Moira when she was five and her sister was three.

  A small, sad smile curved her lips. There wasn’t a time in her life when she hadn’t felt responsible for Moira. For all of them, she amended silently, to a greater or lesser degree. That included her gruff father. Her life had always been so hectic, so full...

  That was why...why she’d been so surprised when she’d kissed Cade. Maybe even more surprised than he was, but not by much.

  What had possessed her?

  It was that look in his eyes, she rationalized. The look that reached out to her, bridging across the fact that for all intents and purposes, they were strangers, that their only relationship was that of client and investigator.

  She had acted instead of thought.

  She hadn’t sifted through it the way she was doing now. What she had done was gone with a feeling. A need. A bonding.

  Who knew, maybe she needed to kiss him more than he needed to be kissed by her? Mac thought as she threw herself down on the bed and tried to sleep again.

  The knock, louder now and forceful, burrowed its way through layers of heavy fog, breaking ground in Mac’s brain and clearing a path with persistence.

  Knocking.

  Someone was knocking. On her door.

  With a gasp of surprise, she bolted upright as the realization that she was sleeping suddenly burst on her brain. Not just sleeping. Oversleeping.

  She glanced frantically at her clock even as she hit the ground, moving. It was eight. The flight to Phoenix she’d made Cade book last night was leaving in an hour and five minutes.