Mac's Angels: The Last Dance: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Sandra Chastain

  Five minutes later she stepped out and dried herself. She hoped that Mac had a big enough hot-water heater to fill the needs of his mountain occupants. She’d used more than her share.

  Finally she dressed in a pair of rose-colored sweats and matching soft slippers, leaving her damp hair to dry untouched. It would turn into a mass of curls, but somehow that freedom appealed to her this morning. The only thing she missed was a window. The absence of it reminded her that she was inside a wall of rock, a prison that kept the bad guys outside. But it also kept the good guys inside.

  A newspaper had been left on her tray. She unfolded it, searching for a reference to an incident at the New Orleans airport. There was none. Apparently the senator’s arrival had been kept secret.

  It was just like it had been before. If she didn’t tell, she might die. If she told, nobody would believe her. Except Conner.

  And Mac.

  After she finished her coffee, she became restless. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so adamant about looking after herself. Elizabeth would at least have been company.

  “Where is everyone?” she called out. But no one answered.

  She pushed her chair down the corridor toward where Mac had told her the pool and the man-made solarium were located. Just as she reached the end of the hall, the door opened and a slim figure wrapped in a beach towel dashed through, heading toward Sterling, colliding forcefully with her chair.

  “Rats!”

  It was a young woman, beautiful, tanned, and shapely in a skimpy suit. The girl slung her wet hair back and studied Sterling. “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Sterling Lindsey.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be up here.” She backed slowly away. “Do they know you’ve escaped?”

  Sterling rolled her chair backward. She tried a smile. “Escaped? I suppose I did. But Mac—Mr. McAllister—gave me permission to explore.”

  She nodded. “Mac brought you here?” Strong disbelief stopped her flight.

  “Are you okay?” Sterling asked, noticing her pale cheeks and colorless lips. The girl’s breathing was fast and shallow, almost as if she were on the verge of a panic attack. She’d nearly frightened her to death. “You’ve been for a swim. I thought I might try out the pool a little later. Swimming is about the only exercise I can handle.”

  “The pool is through those doors. I’m the only one who uses it.”

  “Would you mind if I join you sometime?” Sterling asked.

  She shook her head, but that wide-eyed look never changed.

  “Shall I call Mac?” Sterling asked, beginning to worry.

  “No! Don’t do that. He’ll just—I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. I just have these panic attacks when I’m startled.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just looking for … company.”

  “That’s okay,” the girl said, trying to pull herself together. “I just didn’t expect to see you. There’s never anyone here. Who did you say you are?”

  “Sterling. Sterling Lindsey. And your name is?”

  She raised doe-brown eyes and attempted a wan smile. “My name’s Jessie.”

  It was Sterling’s turn to be speechless. This was Jessie, the woman Mac loved.

  “All right, Conner,” Mac said into the phone. “Here’s what I know. Vincent Dawson checks out, at least on paper.” He gave Conner the rundown about his undergraduate degree and law-school education.

  “Then he went to Washington, latched onto the congresswoman and became—what? Her gigolo?” Conner asked.

  “That’s the assumption her children made when Abby died,” Mac explained. “The judge ruled in favor of the children and took the estate away from Vince. Fortunately, the children got what was rightfully theirs.”

  Conner tapped his fingernails against the receiver. “So where does that leave us? Tell me what you want me to do. I’ve got to get back to Virginia and do something about replacing Sterling, at least temporarily. After that I’m yours.”

  Mac glanced at his watch, then out the window of his secluded office. Purposely, he’d left Sterling on her own this morning. She’d demanded privacy, assuring him that she could take care of herself. He figured it was time to let her find out how lonely a person could be in Shangri-la.

  “I don’t know yet, Conner. But don’t tell Sterling she’s being replaced. She’d be even more insistent that I take her home. What about setting up a computer here for her? We could tie it into yours and nobody would know she wasn’t in the office.”

  “That could work,” Conner agreed. “And it would leave a channel open for Vince to contact her.”

  “I’ll get that set up right away. Call me when you get back to the office and we’ll make the transfer.”

  “Back to Vince. What else have you found out?”

  “I haven’t checked it out yet, but I’m guessing that Washington didn’t beg Vincent to stay when the congresswoman retired or to come back when she died. He had to get there another way.”

  “And?” Conner prompted.

  “He joined Senator March’s staff as a fundraiser. Our boy is charming and successful. When March got elected he rode his coattails back to the Capitol. Now he’s a force to be reckoned with.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “I’m not sure yet. For about a year after Abigail’s death Vince disappeared. The rest all checks out. But there’s something not quite right about all this.”

  “Well,” Conner observed, “we know that he’s a killer and a thief. I’m a little hazy on my political history. Connect Mr. Dawson’s rise to power with some dates. Would that missing year happen to be ten years ago?”

  “Bingo!”

  “So our boy’s career goals suffered a sudden halt when he lost Abby’s money. He had no job, no mansion, no fortune. What would that do to a man like Vince?”

  “I’d say it would make him desperate.” Mac frowned. “And desperate men do desperate things.”

  Conner nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “First, tell me about the wedding.”

  “Very plantation–’Lawsy Miss Scarlett–Southern. Montana was beaming from ear to ear, and Katie was about the prettiest bride I ever saw.”

  “Outside of your Erica, you mean.”

  Conner’s voice dropped. “You got that right. By the way, you missed our news.”

  “Oh? What news?”

  “Looks like there’ll be another little Shadow arriving in about eight months.”

  “That didn’t take long.” Mac felt a knot in the pit of his stomach.

  “Are you there, Mac?”

  “Congratulations, Conner. I’m happy for you. But that brings up another problem. This Vince is dangerous. He saw Sterling. By now, he knows where she is and he knows that she recognized him.”

  “So? He can’t get to her there, can he?”

  “No, but he’ll find out that Sterling works for you. And that could put Erica at risk.”

  There was a long pause.

  Conner finally spoke. “You don’t think he’d—”

  “At this point I don’t know what to think. But we’d better be prepared. Why not bring Erica out here?”

  “I’ll try. But she’s got her heart set on overseeing the new house we’re building. I don’t think she’s gonna give that up. She’s a woman with a mind of her own.”

  “Like Sterling,” Mac said softly.

  “I take it you believe Sterling’s story about the murder. I hoped you would. She had a pretty rough time convincing the police that she wasn’t somehow involved.”

  “Did you ever look into it, Conner?”

  “Yes, I did. When I saw Sterling in that rehabilitation center, I just had to get into the investigation. But there were absolutely no leads then. And Sterling had been through too much to pursue anything. She just burrowed in and pulled the business around her like a shroud. Look after her, Mac.”

  “You be careful, too, Shadow. This could get a little messy.”r />
  “I will. By the way, Mac, about that quilting business you have going. Erica would like a pattern for a baby quilt.”

  “Quilting business?” Mac cringed. “How’d you find out about that?”

  “The airport police interviewed that couple on the plane. They thought it was a hoot, you running a quilting business from your home so the guys at the gym won’t know what you’re doing. That’s while you’re tending little Conner—thanks, Dad—and Rhett and Erica. Next time make up a better story.”

  “Stuff it, Conner,” Mac growled. “Besides, I had help. Sterling came up with the quilting business.”

  Conner laughed. “Very creative, our Sterling.” He grew serious. “Just one final question?”

  Mac sighed. “What?”

  “Is your new baby really going to be a girl?”

  The sound of Mac hanging up the phone bounced off the walls of his office like a stray bullet.

  After he’d sat awhile, Mac allowed himself a smile. New baby? He was older now, calmer. Still, the idea of a new baby was absurd, even if it was imaginary. He’d promised himself a long time ago that he’d never allow himself to care about another woman again, because he couldn’t trust himself to protect her or that love. Even though he’d tried, look what he’d done to Jessie.

  Time to get back to work. Time to find out who Vince Dawson really was and, more important, what his next move would be.

  FIVE

  Sterling pushed open the door at the end of the hall and gasped. She’d never in her life seen anything like Jessie’s swimming hole. She felt like she’d journeyed straight into a rain forest.

  The indoor pool was fed by a natural waterfall that cascaded down into a deep rock-lined pool below. Mac’s special illumination created the illusion of real sunlight, making the trees and flowering plants around the room look like the natural beauties of a tropical paradise.

  Colorful birds, chirping a language of their own, sat perched in the branches. And the flowers; orchids, lilies, hibiscus, and gardenias grew in profusion, their perfumes sweetly scenting the air. It would have been too potent if not for the fresh gentle breeze that ruffled the branches and kept the odors from overwhelming the senses.

  Sterling parked her chair at the end of the pool and watched the water disappear into the rocks. What a peaceful place to unwind. She could see little tendrils of heat rising from the water. A hot springs here in the middle of a mountain. A place where an injured body could soak up sun, be rejuvenated, and feel safe at the same time.

  Was all this for Jessie? Why? A girl as beautiful as she was ought to be on a real beach—with moonlight and a handsome lover lying beside her, not enclosed here in an artificial world. Something was wrong.

  “I see you found the pool,” Mac said.

  With the chirping of the birds and the musical sound of the water, she hadn’t heard him come in. She still didn’t see him, but her senses told her he was standing just behind her chair.

  “Yes. I don’t know how you did it, but it’s very beautiful. I can’t believe we’re inside a mountain.”

  “Believe it. The men who hauled in all the rock thought I was nuts. But they weren’t as skeptical as the engineer who had to build a generator large enough to heat and light the entire complex.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Oh, I’m still working on it. This wing was built first. It’s been here for almost fifteen years. The other wings and floors evolved from there. I keep a full-time construction and maintenance staff on hand.”

  “They must not have families.”

  Mac suddenly moved to where she could see him. He sat down on one of the rocks near her. “But they do. What makes you think they wouldn’t?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I see Shangri-la as something like a space station, isolated … restricted. A place where you’d spend six months on duty and six months on R and R.”

  Mac looked surprised. “All the people who work here have the option of bringing their families. There is a grocery store, a small department store, restaurants, a movie house, and a recreation center. If we don’t have it, it can be ordered in.”

  “But they’re living underground.”

  “Do you feel like you’re living underground here?”

  Sterling glanced around. “No, I don’t.”

  “You just want to be able to go outside. Is that it?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m told that back in Virginia you have an office on the beach. How often do you go outside, Sterling?”

  She paused.

  “Almost never, but I can see the outside world.”

  “So can the residents. The rooms that don’t have, windows, and that’s most of them—for safety reasons—have holographic images on at least one wall. Your room has the same ability as the others. If you want to be on the beach, you just program your computer. Didn’t Elizabeth show you?”

  “No. I mean she probably would have, but I felt uncomfortable having her there. I asked her to leave.”

  “Are you always so independent?” Mac challenged.

  “I am. Are you always so controlling?”

  He laughed. “Are we about to have our first fight?”

  “I don’t fight.”

  “All right. I have something to show you.”

  “Something more spectacular than this?”

  “You may think so. Will you allow me to push your chair?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Tsk, tsk, Moneypenney. What would 007 do with a testy secretary?”

  “He’d probably have some kind of secret weapon that he’d use to convince her to take orders.”

  “Oh?” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You think he’d charm her into obedience?”

  Sterling couldn’t quite field a comeback to that. As they threaded their way down a path between the trees, she tried desperately to recall the Bond movies she’d seen. All she could remember was Pierce Brosnan brushing up on his Danish in bed with a buxom blonde.

  “I don’t speak Danish,” she said suddenly, rather proud of herself for coming up with a line that caused Mac to falter in his pushing.

  After a moment he replied seriously, “I’ll teach you.”

  They reached an archway in which opaque sliding doors silently opened.

  “No ‘shazam’?” she asked.

  “Picture ID,” he explained.

  “What about me?”

  “Your picture has already been fed into the computer identification system.”

  Walking through the hallway, Sterling noticed that the decor changed dramatically. No more champagne wallpaper. Only utilitarian walls and tiled floors filled this space.

  “Where are we going?” Sterling finally asked, beginning to feel uneasy.

  “We’re going to my office.”

  “Why?”

  They approached a steel door, which automatically slid open. Once more they walked into another world. Silent, luxurious, but somehow Spartan at the same time. A wheat-colored couch hugged one wall. Along another lay a bank of computer screens and electronic equipment. A ratty-looking desk chair seemed to crouch between the computers and a large mahogany desk. But the most amazing feature of the room was a jagged outcropping of rock surrounding a shiny panel of wallpaper.

  “Now watch this, Moneypenny.”

  He keyed a code into a panel on the wall. The panel slid open. A blue sky full of sunshine filled the opening.

  “Holograph?” she whispered. “Amazing.”

  “No, this view is real.” He rolled the chair forward. “There are times when I have to see the outside world.”

  “But you do it from a distance, don’t you, Mac?”

  “Yes. I find it’s safer that way.”

  “And Jessie? Tell me about her, Mac.”

  He cut a sharp gaze toward her. “You met Jessie?”

  “She was coming from the pool. I nearly scared her to death. Don’t you ever have company?”

  “D
id she … what did she do?”

  “She seemed surprised that I was there. I believe she thought I’d strayed from wherever your outside guests are housed.” Questions about Jessie whirled through her mind. Sterling had to remind herself that she, too, was a quest. “Do you really think keeping her isolated is good for her?”

  Mac walked past her and stood at the window looking out. This morning he was dressed as informally as she. He wore scruffy running shoes and sweats, as though he’d just come from a workout. A towel was draped around his neck, and his hair was still wet.

  “I don’t keep her here against her will. I’ve done everything I can to get her out, but she simply refuses to go. She doesn’t want to leave ever.”

  “Mac, she’s too young to know what she wants. I think she’s probably very lonely here.”

  He swung around, clasping the ends of his towel. “You’re right. She is lonely. And she ought to have outside friends.”

  “She must love you very much, Mac. That’s why she stays.”

  “Yes, she loves me. In spite of the fact that I’m responsible for the death of her mother, she loves me.”

  Sterling felt as if a large object had just fallen out of the sky and landed on her. Had she misinterpreted something? “You killed her mother?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I was gone when Jessie was born and most of the time when she was growing up. Still playing the rich man’s son when I should have been at home. I knew she was fragile, that she fought a losing battle with depression but I refused to change my life. I hold myself responsible for what happened to my wife and to my daughter, Jessie.”

  “Jessie is your daughter?”

  “Of course. Did Jessie tell you?”

  “No. I think I scared her to death. She was on the verge of complete panic.”

  “Yes. She panics easily. Emotionally, Jessie is still a child. Her doctors have told me that maybe I’ve been too ready to go along with her fear of outsiders.”

  Sterling must have managed to nod enough to convince Mac she was listening but all she could think about was that he’d said he was taking her home to meet the woman he loved and that woman was Jessie. His beautiful daughter.