by Wendy Stone
Mac's grin grew, her eyes sparkled. She threw herself at him, knocking him backwards and kissing him until he was tempted to roll her under him once more. But he managed to hold off, smiling back at her when she raised her head.
"You don't know how much that means to me, Gideon. Thank you."
"Just promise me something?"
"What's that?” she asked, sitting up on the side of the bed and searching for her clothes.
Gideon took her chin in his hand, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “Promise me you'll come back so we can finish where we left off."
* * * *
Brett paced back and forth in the luxurious suite that he'd rented for another night, trying to ignore the phone in his hand that kept playing the theme from “The Twilight Zone". It was Dillon wanting an update on what was going on with Mackenzie and for the life of him, Brett didn't know what to tell him.
Dropping the cell onto the small settee and dumping a couple pillows on it to drown out the noise, he picked up the suite phone and dialed for an outside line. A knock on the door to the suite stopped him and he dropped the phone back into the cradle. “Shit."
"Who is it?” he yelled.
"Room service, sir. We have your order."
Brett sighed, glancing over at the pillows on the settee as his phone went off again. He ignored it, going to the door and opening it. A small cart was pushed into the room, holding a silver domed place setting. Brett signed the receipt and left a nice tip. He wasn't paying for it.
"The newspaper you asked for,” the waiter said, holding out the Monroe City Press, folded neatly.
"Thank you.” He closed the door behind the man, pushing the cart over to one of the chairs and setting down. Opening the paper, he reached for the dome, his hand stalled in mid air over the shining surface.
"Arsonist Escalates to Assault,” he read out loud slowly. “Shit girl, are you trying to get this guy pissed off?” He quickly skimmed the article, shaking his head. “Psychosis, impotent, unable to maintain any sort of relationship, Jesus jumped up Christ in a basket, Kenzie!” He shoved his hand through his hair, rolling up the paper and throwing it back on the cart. “Well at least now I know what burr Dillon has up his ass. Fuck!"
* * * *
"Remind me when he finally answers his damn phone to shove it up his ass,” Dillon growled, pacing the floor angrily.
Rylie glanced up from the file she was going through, smiling as she watched her handsome husband mutter and pace the floor like a caged leopard. “I think Brett's a little smarter than to answer the phone when you're in this mood. Have you ever thought that Mackenzie is capable of living her own life?"
Dillon spun, his blazing amber eyes growing soft when he gazed at his very beautiful and very pregnant wife. “Did you read the article she wrote?"
"Yeah, I thought it was really well done.” She shrugged her shoulders, one hand going to her belly where their son kicked and then seemed to roll over. “Whoa there slugger."
He threw the phone down on the couch, dropping to his knees next to Rylie. His hand slid over her belly, smiling when he felt the kick of a tiny foot against his palm. “You should be a bit more gentle with your mama, son. Remember, she carries a gun."
After losing their first child, neither was taking any chances with this one. Rylie was on maternity leave now, even though she still had weeks left before her due date.
"Ha, ha.” She stretched, her hands going to her back. “These last weeks are taking forever.” She leaned over and kissed Dillon softly. “But you still didn't answer the question."
"If Mackenzie had a normal job, then I wouldn't have to worry about her. Instead, she's throwing herself in burning buildings, getting almost kidnapped by drug lords, and God knows what else. You can't expect me to just sit back and let her get in more trouble."
"Yes, I can.” She smiled, stroking her hand over his face. “It's her life, Dillon. Tell me how you'd react if someone tried to influence you the way you do her?"
"There's a big difference...” he let his voice die off knowing he was never going to win this with her. “I keep talking, I'm going to end up in a huge hole, aren't I?"
"I knew you could be trained,” Rylie grinned.
His eyes narrowed and he moved quickly, scooping her off the chair she'd been sitting in to work and up into his arms. She screeched and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You maniac, what are you doing? Put me down before you hurt yourself."
"Oh so now I'm weak,” he turned toward the bedroom door.
"No, I just weigh about a ton.” She nuzzled against his neck. “Besides, don't you have to get back to the office this afternoon?"
"Hey, even the boss deserves lunch,” he said as he kicked the door shut behind them.
* * * *
Hawk stood in the shower, water running in gleaming rivulets down his wide chest and muscled stomach. His head was bent into the water, letting it sluice over the wound on his scalp. The heat felt good, loosening muscles tightened by the events of the past couple of days. He sighed, finally stretching and groaning as bruises made themselves known.
"Damn,” he hissed, turning off the water and stepping out onto the bath mat on the floor. He grabbed one of the thick towels, wrapping it around his waist and grabbing another to carefully towel dry his hair. A knock on the door of the hotel room brought his head up.
Quietly sneaking to the door, he carefully reached over and grabbed his nine millimeter off the dresser. “Who is it?"
"Brett Hunter."
Hawk looked through the peephole, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He undid the chain, opening the door and stepping back as Brett walked into the room.
"Where is she?” he growled, searching the room, even bending to check under the bed. “What did you do with her?"
"With who?” Hawk asked. “Mackenzie?"
"Yeah. Where is that pigheaded cousin of mine?"
"She's not here,” Hawk said, staring at the tall man with a look of bemusement. “What'd she do?"
"Did you read this article?” Brett asked, throwing the folded paper toward Hawk. “She's asking for trouble. You'd think she'd know better, especially being in this family."
Hawk skimmed the article. “Shit,” he breathed.
"Yeah, you can say that again."
"Shit,” Hawk repeated, folding the paper open to go over more thoroughly. “...received from an anonymous informant inside the police department. Shit, they're going to think it was me."
"It wasn't you?"
"Hell no, I'd never give out information on an investigation.” Hawk glared at Brett. “How did you find me, anyway?"
"I'm a private investigator, Hawkins. It wasn't that difficult to find out where you were. But if Kenzie isn't here with you, where is she?"
"She got called into the newspaper. Hang on, I'll get dressed and go with you.” Hawk grabbed his clothes and slammed into the bathroom, his temper spiking. “She's going to get herself killed,” he growled, pulling a tee shirt on over his wet skin.
He was out and pulling on his shoes, checking the load on his gun and pulling on his holster, still muttering. “Has she always been this pig headed?"
"This is nothing,” Brett said, shaking his head. “You should've seen her when she wanted to go to school in New York City. It was all she talked about."
Hawk grabbed a shirt and pulled it on over the top of his tee shirt, hiding his holstered weapon. “I bet she went too."
"Yeah, though her dad had a fit. I think Aunt Leanne was secretly pulling for her though.” Brett sighed, reaching for the door handle. “It was a fight all the way up until the day she left but I know both of them were proud of her when she graduated top in her class."
Hawk stuck the card key to the room in his pocket and followed him out, shutting the door behind him with a resounding thud.
* * * *
Her phone on her desk was ringing as Mac came out of Ron's office, a grim smile playing around her soft lips. She wa
s tempted to ignore it. After all, it wasn't as if there hadn't been a huge stack of pink slip phone messages on her desk when she came in. Out of the twenty or so messages, most of them had been from Dillon with the not so subtle message to call him when she “got her head out of her ass."
Dropping on to her chair, she reached for the phone, taking a deep breath and preparing herself to deal with Dillon's newest harangue. “Mackenzie Hunter,” she said.
"You want to know about the arsonist? I can give you anything you want."
Her head lifted, Kenzie picked up a pencil, twirling it in her fingers. “Who is this?"
"There's a reward out for what I got to give you,” the man said, ignoring her question. “You want to know or should I just go to the Tribune?"
"No...no, I want it. Who is he?"
"It ain't going to be that easy. I ain't giving you this information so you can run and claim the reward for yourself.” He paused and for a minute Mackenzie thought he'd hung up. “You gotta meet me."
"Okay, there's a coffee shop...” she began, only to be interrupted by the man.
"Nope, no good. You gotta come to me.” He rattled off an address. “Half an hour, Miss High and Mighty newspaper lady. You don't show and I call the Tribune. They probably know how to show their rats some respect."
"I'll be...there,” she finished to the dial tone as the man hung up.
Thoughts flew in Kenzie's head. This could be the story of the year, her chance for awards and recognition. Dillon would have to respect her abilities if she could unmask the arsonist that had been eluding the city for months. A thrill of anticipation shot through her and she ripped the address off of the notepad she'd written it on, grabbing her purse and heading for the bank of elevators.
Two elevators reached her floor at the same time and she stepped into one, never seeing the two men who came out of the other one. Hitting the button for the lobby, she checked her purse to make sure she had tapes and batteries for her recorder.
* * * *
"I thought you said she was going to be here,” Brett said, glaring at Hawk.
"I thought she was going to be here,” Hawk said, glaring back at Brett. He looked up just as a familiar face on five inch heels tottered past. “Selena..."
"Mmm,” the curvaceous red head purred. “If it isn't my favorite Narc cop and his very cute friend. Who is your very cute friend, Gideon?"
Brett stepped forward, an interested smile on his lips. “I'm Brett Hunter, ma'am. I'm Mackenzie's cousin.” He took the hand she held out to him, bringing it to his lips.
"Enchante,” Selena breathed, batting luscious green eyes up at him. “Mackenzie does have the most interesting men in her life. Just how I like them, tall, tanned and tasty.” She licked her lips just enough to leave them moist and inviting and draw Brett's gaze to her mouth.
"Hunter, she'd chew you up and spit you out,” Hawk muttered to Brett as he seemed spellbound.
"Yeah, but what a way to go,” Brett sighed. He shook his head, giving her hand one last kiss before returning to business. “We're looking for Mackenzie. Have you seen her?"
Selena took a deep breath, watching as both men's eyes went to the daring neckline of her dress that barely contained her ample curves. “She was in the staff meeting that got out just two minutes ago. She should be at her desk. I was just heading to mine. It's over there,” she said, standing on tip toe and letting her hand rest against Brett's shoulder as she pointed out a desk on the far wall.
"I'll have to remember that,” Brett said with a wink. “But for now, do you think you could find Mackenzie for us? We need to talk to her."
Her hand fluttered to her throat playing with her necklace. “I can page her for you, if you'd like."
She turned to the nearest phone, bending slightly at the waist to pick up the receiver and giving every male eye in the room a wonderful view of her long, tanned thighs as the hemline of her dress rode dangerously close to the border.
"If you're looking for Kenzie, she left just a couple minutes ago."
Hawk turned, seeing a tiny, mouse like woman standing in front of him. “Do you know where she was going?"
"No, she was on the phone and then took off out of here like the place was on fire."
Selena almost stomped her foot at the interruption. “Thanks so much, Lily,” she said to the waif-like figure.
"No problem, Selena,” Lily grinned, enjoying the gorgeous woman's pique.
"Now what do we do?” Brett growled.
"You're the private dick,” Hawk pointed out. “Do some detecting."
* * * *
Mackenzie stood outside the abandoned apartment building, staring up at the broken windows and graffiti covered walls. “God, Mackenzie Hunter, you are completely nuts."
Once more she glanced down at the piece of paper that she'd written the information on. “Okay, this is the right address. Let's go.” She slipped the paper back in her bag, reaching deeper to turn on her tape recorder and to check again that she had her cell phone and pepper spray handy.
Pushing aside the door that was hanging by one hinge, she stepped out of the warmth of the sun and into the darkness of the boarded up building. A squeak to one side had a squeal erupting from her lips, and she jerked backwards, her hand going to her chest as a rat the size of a small dog stared at her.
"Go away, beast.” Her voice shook and she forced herself to take a deep breath, carefully skirting around the rat and heading deeper into the building. She checked the first door, pushing it open and staring into the dusty motes that floated in the slight breeze coming in one of the windows. “This could take all day."
Someone or something moved above her, causing a clatter of pipes and the sound of rapid footfalls. Kenzie jumped, barely holding back the screech that came to her lips. She moved from the open door, yanking out her bottle of pepper spray and holding it cocked and ready in her hand. “Hello?” she said softly.
The stairs creaked noisily when she rested her foot on the first tread. “This is nuts. God, Mackenzie, you could be in bed right now having multiple orgasms and eating Hawk alive. But no, you have to have a career, you have to be in the lime light. You have to climb those stairs, so just do it for God's sake."
She let out a small moan, finally shifting the pepper spray to her other hand and grabbing hold of the banister. It seemed to shudder in her hands, wiggling dangerously. Carefully taking one tread at a time, she started up the stairs.
Three treads from the top, the wood shifted and she threw herself forward, her arm scraping against an exposed nail. “Damn!” she cried, turning over to sit on the top step while she checked on the wound. It was raw and ugly, bleeding sluggishly. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed a wad of tissues, holding it to the wound. She jerked and her hand opened, her pepper spray bouncing down the stairs to land at the bottom.
Mackenzie looked down the hall that she could see from where she was sitting. There was another flight of stairs heading up and doors closed all the way down the long hall. “Hello? Is anyone there?"
She rose, rubbing her hip that had taken the brunt of her fall. “I'm here alone, like you wanted,” she called. “You can come out and talk to me."
"Up here,” a ghostly sounding voice said from the floor above her and this time she did screech, slapping her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.
"Can't you come down here? I don't trust these stairs."
"No, you come to me if you want to know what I do.” There was a small spat of giggles that left Kenzie feeling even more nervous than she was before.
Taking a deep breath, she dropped the tissues back in her bag, pulling it more securely onto her shoulder. “I think you should know that I told my boss I was coming here. If I don't come back, he'll send the police.” She grabbed the old railing once more, using it to pull herself up the rickety staircase. “So don't try anything...hinkey."
The stair treads groaned and creaked with every step she took, the railing shook under her hand. She c
ould see feet clad in black motorcycle boots at the top of the stairs. “I'm coming up,” she said.
"Hurry up,” the voice said, and the boots moved, stepping back to the shadows.
"Come out where I can see you,” she called.
There was no answer but for a gust of wind that blew dust down around her. She reached the top step, rubbing her eyes to rid them of the grime. A hand dropped to her shoulder and she jumped, turning around quickly and blinking up at the figure above her.
Her scream echoed throughout the empty rooms, only to be cut off abruptly as his hand came down over her mouth.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirteen
* * * *
"There's nothing here,” Brett said in disgust after searching through Kenzie's desk once more. “If she got some kind of message telling her to go somewhere, I don't see it."
"She's still not answering her cell phone either,” Hawk growled, flipping his closed and shoving it into his jean pocket. “Where the hell would she have gone?"
"Are you two still here?” Selena purred, coming up behind Brett and letting her hand rest against his shoulder. “I thought for sure you'd be gone. Oh, I know, you were waiting for me.” She squeezed Brett's shoulder, rubbing her hip against it and the chair he was sitting in.
"We still have no idea where Kenzie's disappeared to,” Hawk said, disgusted. “You'd think she'd let someone know, especially since her apartment's been trashed."
"You two really are helpless aren't you?” She pushed Brett just hard enough to get him out of Kenzie's chair then sat down herself. “Mackenzie told me that you're a private detective and you're a narc cop. I can't believe neither of you figured this trick out.” She grabbed a pencil out of the cup on the desk, picking up the pad of paper that sat next to Kenzie's phone. Using the side of the pencil lead, she slowly and carefully shaded over the area of writing, bringing up an address.
"Here you go.” she said, a silky satisfaction in her voice.
"Are you two looking for Mackenzie?” Hawk looked up to see a mousy waif like woman standing over them. “I rode with her down the elevator. She got a call from an informant who said he had information on this arsonist and where he was going to strike next."