MacKenzie's Promise

by Catherine Spencer

  And then, with her trembling and submissive beneath him, he had his way with her. At leisure. Feasting on the sight and feel and taste of her. Reveling in the helpless moans interspersed with gasps, which she couldn’t suppress. Exulting as she quivered and writhed when he found her with his tongue.

  Finally, with his own fortitude so seriously under siege that she had to help him put on the condom, he slid inside her in a rush of heat and sensation that made a mockery of his notion that he was in charge of anything, least of all himself. He’d have laughed at his own arrogance if he’d possessed the wherewithal to do anything other than obey the dictates of primal instinct. The best he could do was hold her fast as they hurtled toward the brink of insanity then, when there was no avoiding its rapacious demands, free-falling with her beyond the realm of everything that kept him grounded in reality.

  He’d expected to bring her to orgasm, and she did not disappoint him, or herself. What he didn’t expect was how deeply he would be affected by her experience. He’d had enough women to know the difference between a fake performance and the real thing, and Linda’s response had been genuine.

  He’d recognized the distant tremors gathering strength within her, heard the inarticulate cry torn from her as she teetered on the brink of completion, felt the involuntary clenching of her flesh around his as she climaxed. But that he was so puffed up with pride at having been the one to induce her response—that was a first, and he didn’t have the vaguest idea how to deal with it.

  It was only sex, after all. A man and a woman mutually involved in the giving and taking of physical pleasure, and on the firm understanding that any emotional fallout was as temporary as the thrill of orgasm itself.

  So where was all this mushy sentiment coming from? It wasn’t his style at all, and he hadn’t the first clue what to do about it.

  What he did know was that he needed to get out of there, before he said something he’d regret in the morning. But she’d curled up next to him, all warm and rosy and smelling of woman and sex. Leaving her and braving the air-conditioned solitude of his own room held no appeal at all.

  He’d wait until she was asleep. Possibly nap a little himself. The important thing was to keep his mouth shut and remember he’d brought only one condom with him.

  The Wagners lived on Russian Hill, in an Italianate jewel of a house sitting in a long, narrow garden full of splashing fountains and flowers.

  Jackson the butler, immaculate in pin-striped dinner suit, met them at the door, eyed them up and down to make sure they were fit company for his employers and allowed them entry.

  “I feel I should have worn a tux,” Mac murmured, as they followed him up a flight of stairs and through a double parlor to the sun-drenched terrace.

  “You look perfectly all right,” Linda said, controlling the urge to wax eloquent over his appearance. His light gray suit was clearly custom tailored, his white shirt of the finest Egyptian cotton, his tie pure silk. Even in a city as sophisticated as San Francisco, there were few men, she was sure, who came close to rivaling the ease and elegance with which he carried himself.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself. Is that dress new, or did you bring it with you?”

  “I bought it this morning.” After I woke up and found you gone. After I ate breakfast alone, because the message you left said you had some business to take care of and wouldn’t be back until after lunch.

  “It was a good choice. I like that blue-green color on you. It does things for your eyes.”

  Things? “Thank you,” she said, demurely.

  “How’s the ring? Not leaving any black marks on your finger, I hope.”

  “No.” She touched it lightly, fondly, still amazed that he’d had the foresight to think of buying it. The diamanté-studded wedding band might not be any more real than the marriage it symbolized and would probably turn green in time, but to her, it represented the magic and enthrallment of last night, and she would treasure it forever.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, madam,” Jackson announced grandly, stepping to one side as a woman in her mid-fifties rose from a wicker chaise to greet them.

  She was slim, elegant and discreetly expensive in a flowing silk dress patterned all over with tiny violets. She was also charming. “How do you do?” she said, her voice a well-modulated blend of culture and breeding. “I’m so pleased you contacted us. Won’t you sit down? My husband’s been called to the telephone but he’ll join us shortly.”

  She gestured to a wicker love seat, which matched her chaise. “I thought we’d gather here in the garden, since it’s such a lovely evening. Do you know San Francisco well?”

  Mac said, “Yes. I’ve spent a lot of time here in the past.”

  “Not well at all, I’m afraid. This is our first visit,” Linda announced simultaneously, and turned to him, stricken at having committed such a faux pas this early in the game.

  “What my wife means,” he said easily, taking her hand, “is that this is her inaugural visit as well as our first as a married couple.”

  “So you’re newlyweds!” Mrs. Wagner smiled warmly. “I should have guessed from the way you look at each other. Are you on your honeymoon, by chance?”

  “In a way, yes,” Mac said. The way he crushed Linda’s hand in his sent a clear message that she should keep her mouth shut. “We’ve been married such a short time that every day’s another honeymoon.”

  “How wonderful! I remember feeling exactly the same when James and I were first married, and I can’t say things have changed all that much over the years.” She glanced up and broke into another smile as a tall, frail man leaning heavily on a cane came out of the house to join them. “Your ears must be burning,” she told him. “I was just talking about you. Darling, this is Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan from Vancouver, although you, Mr. Sullivan, sound more American than Canadian.”

  “I’m from Oregon,” he said, rising to shake James Wagner’s hand, “but we’re staying in Vancouver temporarily, until things return to normal with my wife’s family.”

  Mr. Wagner offered Linda an old-world bow before lowering himself carefully onto a straight-backed chair. “That sounds ominous. No trouble on the home front, I trust?”

  “Oh, surely not!” Mrs. Wagner exclaimed. “Darling, this young couple are newlyweds, enjoying an extended honeymoon, and I think we should have champagne to celebrate. After all, the bride is June’s sister, which makes her practically related to us.”

  “Then by all means, let’s have champagne. Jackson, bring up a bottle of Taittinger, will you?”

  For the next twenty minutes, they sipped wine and made small talk. Eventually, though, when the atmosphere was all nice and mellow, Mac got down to business. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that this isn’t entirely a social visit. There is trouble, just as you suspected, Mr. Wagner, and we’re hoping you can help us resolve it.”

  James Wagner might have been feeble in body, but there was nothing wrong with his mind. He picked up on the grim delivery of such news at once, and regarded Mac sharply. “It’s to do with that bounder of a son of ours, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid it is, sir.”

  “I should have known!” He thumped his cane on the flagstone terrace. “Sadie and I have been uneasy about him for months now. Has he run off and left your sister in the lurch, Mrs. Sullivan? Is that what this is all about?”

  Linda glanced at Mac, wishing the question had been addressed to him. He squeezed her fingers again, this time more in encouragement than warning. “Actually my sister is the one who called off the wedding,” she said, unsure how much she should reveal.

  “Smart girl!” Kirk’s father decreed. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”

  Again, she looked to Mac for guidance. “Go ahead, Linda,” he said. “Tell them about the baby.”

  “Dear heaven!” Mrs. Wagner exclaimed. “Has something happened to our granddaughter? Is that why Kirk hasn’t been in touch for so long?”

  “I’m afraid he�
�s run away with her,” Linda said, wishing there was a kinder way to put it. “You’re not the only ones who haven’t heard from him, Mrs. Wagner. No one seems to know where he is or how to get in touch with him.”

  Ashen-faced, the poor woman turned to her husband. “Oh, James! What does this mean?”

  “You might as well face it, Sadie. If what these people are telling us is true, our son’s living on the wrong side of the law. Isn’t that right, Mr. Sullivan?”

  “I’m afraid it is.”

  Mrs. Wagner raised her hands to her face as if warding off a blow. “No, there must be some mistake! We brought Kirk up to know the difference between right and wrong. He’s just taken the baby to show her off to friends. He might even be bringing her here to see us. He’ll turn up again soon, don’t you think, Mr. Sullivan?”

  “I very much doubt it,” Mac said. “To put it bluntly, he’s kidnapped his own child.”

  “Well, he has to be caught and held accountable,” James Wagner declared. “How long has he been gone?”

  Linda exchanged glances with Mac, and at his nod, said, “Nearly two months. He took Angela when she was one day old.”

  The high color in Mr. Wagner’s face faded to sickly yellow. Clearly shaken, he said, “Do we even know if that child is still alive?”

  “No. The police have found no trace of him or the baby,” Mac said.

  “So you’re conducting your own search. That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it?”

  Mac nodded. “Yes, sir, it is. We’re hoping you might have some idea where he might be hiding.”

  “Not here, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mr. Wagner maintained, spots of anger staining his cheeks a dull red. “He knows better than to expect we’d give him refuge for something like this! How is your poor sister holding up under the stress, Mrs. Sullivan?”

  “Not well,” Linda said, her delight at being taken for Mac’s wife evaporating. Beyond doubt, the Wagners were as distressed about what had happened as anyone else, and it left a very bad taste in her mouth to be heaping deceit on top of the pain they already suffered.

  “She must be nearly mad with anxiety!”

  “More than you can imagine,” Mac said, slipping his arm around Linda’s shoulders and pulling her snugly against him. “Everyone’s worried, of course, but it’s hardest on the mother when a child goes missing.”

  Still beside herself, Mrs. Wagner appealed to her husband. “It’s happened again, hasn’t it, James?”

  Linda felt the sudden tension running through Mac and wasn’t surprised when he leaned forward and said, “Why would you even ask such a question, Mrs. Wagner? Has he done this before?”

  She rounded on him, clearly offended. “No, of course not! Kirk is not a criminal!”

  But Mac pressed on, undeterred. “Then what did you mean? What do you know that you’re not telling us?”

  “He’s been…unwell, in the past.”

  “Unwell how?”

  She fidgeted with the collar of her dress. “He’s gone through periods of…mental instability and required…therapy. But he’s quite recovered.”

  “No, he’s not. If he’s run off with a baby, he’s off his rocker!” James Wagner thundered. “Stop trying to make excuses for the man, Sadie! We’ve been dealing with problems of one kind or another since the day Kirk came into our lives. He was trouble from the very first.”

  “And I spoiled him. You said that from the first, too, James, and warned me I’d live to regret it,” she cried, unraveling before their eyes. “And I suppose you think it’s my fault he’s—”

  “Your son is a grown man,” Mac told her gently. “He’s the one responsible for the trouble he’s now in, not you. One thing does puzzle me, though. Until we told you about the baby, you didn’t appear to find it odd that Kirk hadn’t remained in contact with you, and I wonder why that is, when you’re so obviously devoted to him.”

  Mr. Wagner let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “You wouldn’t, if you knew Kirk! We’ll go months without a word from him, and then, out of the blue, he’ll show up on the doorstep and act as if we’d last seen him just the day before.”

  “And you never asked him why?”

  “Certainly we asked, young man! But that doesn’t mean we received answers that made sense. Kirk has always been secretive. To give you an idea of what I’m talking about, he was only eight when he asked for a lock to be put on his bedroom door to keep everyone else out—something to which I was vehemently opposed, by the way.”

  “But I let him have one,” Mrs. Wagner said, on a painful breath. “I hoped it would show him that we respected his need for privacy.”

  “You tried to accommodate him his entire life, Sadie, and never once got a sincere word of thanks for your efforts!”

  “He always found it hard to trust people, that was the problem,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. “He was insecure from the very start. It had to do with his being adopted, I believe. As soon as he was old enough, he became obsessed with finding his birth family, and even changed his name because he said we weren’t his real parents. It broke my heart that he didn’t realize how much we loved him.”

  Mr. Wagner banged his cane again. “Well, I won’t put up with his doing it again. Mrs. Sullivan, I’m grieved and ashamed that a son of mine is causing your family such heartache. Be assured you may count on our cooperation in holding him answerable for his actions.”

  “Will he go to prison when he’s caught, Mr. Sullivan?” Sadie asked fearfully.

  “That’ll be up to the authorities and the family. A good deal depends on what happens next. If he were to return the baby voluntarily to her mother, it’s possible that lesser charges could be brought against him.” Mac stood up and drew Linda to her feet also. “I’m afraid we’ve spoiled your evening. I’m sorry we had to be the ones to bring you such distressing news.”

  “Yes,” Linda said, wishing they hadn’t bothered coming at all, since the only thing they’d done was draw two more innocent people into the mess. “Thank you very much for seeing us.”

  Both Wagners rose also. “We haven’t been much help, I’m afraid,” Sadie said. “I hope you’ll keep us informed, though. We might not be blood relatives, but that little baby holds a very special place in our hearts. We so hoped she would bring Kirk the peace and satisfaction he didn’t find in his first marriage.”

  “He’ll never find it with anyone,” Mr. Wagner growled. “He’s not interested in making a life with someone else. All he’s ever wanted is to own and control people. It’s what drove away his ex-wife and it’s why this second marriage never took place.”

  “We’ll be in touch as soon as we know something ourselves.” Mac reached into his inside jacket pocket and extracted a business card. “Meanwhile, if you happen to think of something which might help locate him—someplace he might use as a refuge, for example—you can reach us at any of these numbers.”

  Linda thought that was the end of it; that for all their earlier optimism that the Wagners would provide the answers they needed, they’d come up empty-handed. In fact, she and Mac had reached the head of the stairs where the butler Jackson waited to show them out, when James Wagner’s voice stopped them cold.

  “Wait a minute! I just thought of something. Maybe we know more than we first thought.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “WELL, that was a telling encounter in more ways than one! Who’d have thought we’d strike gold just when we were ready to abandon the mine?” Reflection of the yellow candle flame danced in Mac’s eyes as he regarded Linda across the table.

  “Do you really think we have?”

  “With an out-of-the-way vacation home, which the Wagners haven’t used in years, and to which Thayer’s got the keys? You bet! This calls for a celebration. Can you stand another round of champagne?”

  She shrugged, her attempt to match his cheerful enthusiasm falling short. “If you like.”

  “You’d rather have something else?�
��

  “No. Champagne is fine.”

  “Then what’s the problem? This place isn’t to your liking? You don’t see anything you fancy on the menu? The wine list’s not extensive enough?”

  Anything but! The supper club he’d chosen was first-class all the way, from its scenic location on the water, just a few blocks from Fisherman’s Wharf, to the well-appointed fixtures and excellent but unobtrusive service. To be seated by the window, at a table with a centerpiece of fresh bud roses around a silver candleholder, across from a man she was falling for in a big way, should have been enough to make for a perfect romantic evening. Would have been, were it not for the niggling questions clouding her mind.

  “Okay, Linda.” He snapped his fingers impatiently. “Out with it. Why the long face?”

  “I’m trying to decide between pheasant and crab cakes.”

  “And?” He tilted his handsome head to one side. “Something else is bugging you, and as your husband-for-a-day, I demand to know what it is.”

  “Well, for a start, I’m wondering why you insisted on perpetuating the lie that we’re married to a sweet old couple like the Wagners who were clearly shattered to learn what Kirk’s done.”

  “Because we agreed beforehand that a measure of deception was necessary.”

  “I know. I just wish that, once we realized they were on our side, you’d let me tell them the truth, instead of racing me to the car and driving off while I still had one leg practically dragging on the road!”

  “It was a harmless but necessary pretense.”

  “I’ve never been very good at pretense, harmless or otherwise. I prefer to be up-front in my dealings with people.”

  He propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and surveyed her thoughtfully. “Don’t you think they’d been disillusioned enough for one day? They must be in their seventies, and neither struck me as being particularly robust. You saw how unglued Sadie became when she learned what Thayer’s been up to, and as for the old man, for all his tough talk, he looks as if a good wind might blow him away. I could see no advantage to adding insult to the injury they’d already sustained.”