by Platt, MJ
Mac retreated, but not before he noticed a thoughtful look from Sage. He heard the whispered ‘thank you’ from Sage to Little Mouse as he exited the kitchen.
A few minutes later he sat at his desk, rubbing his forehead and staring at the phone number he had brought up on his rolodex. Would it be right to ask Stewart’s help? If anyone could put together the info needed, it would be him. Mac pulled up the memory of the happy-go-lucky PFC in his recon unit. Until the day they got caught in an enemy crossfire in a village in Iraq. It had been nip and tuck getting Stew out alive. His injuries were bad enough to give him a medical discharge. But Stew refused to leave. His electronics technology rewarded him with a desk job at Camp Pendleton. And he proved the Marines belief in him by being the best in his position. With a sigh, Mac tapped the number into his phone. It was answered on the second ring.
“Corporal Compton,” was the succinct response.
“Hey, Stew. It’s Mac. Congratulations on your promotion. When did that come through?”
“Mac! I mean Major MacLain.”
“Just Mac will do.”
“Haven’t heard from you in four months. Not since the accident in Stan. Didn’t know if you made it or not. Where are you? How are you?”
“I’m home. Six month of medical leave. I’m doing okay.” It came out raspy. Mac closed his eyes, trying to ward off the memory of that accident. He’d lost too many good men and it had landed him in the hospital, too. He could still hear the screams of the severely wounded, see the blood, and smell the death that had surrounded him.
“Sorry, Mac.”
“How’s everything on the home front? Sorry I couldn’t get back for your wedding.” Mac tried to lighten the conversation, get away from the memories.
“All’s good.” Stew said. “Maggie’s pregnant. Two months. She told me the night I came home with my corporal stripes. Boy, was that a night to remember!”
His happiness came through loud and clear. “Seems double congratulations are in order.”
“Yeah. So, to what do I owe this call? It isn’t strictly social or you wouldn’t be calling me at work.”
“I need you to do a background check on a Marcos Diego. Start in San Francisco. That’s where he is now. Dig as deep as you can. Be his second skin,” snapped Mac. “I want to know even his birth weight, if he was born of human parents. It wouldn’t hurt if the info came through ASAP.”
“You want me to use government equipment to hunt down some badass that’s making you squirrelly. It could put my neck in a noose.”
“Won’t be the first time.”
“Yeah, but you were in Stan hunting bad guys.”
“This guy is worse than any we were hunting over there. He did a slash and gash on a close friend of mine.”
“This friend wouldn’t happen to be of the female persuasion, would it?”
“Doesn’t make any difference. Just get me what you can on him,” Mac smoothly ended the conversation. He tossed the phone on the desk and, leaning back in his chair, wiped his hands down over his face. Step one done. He wondered what kind of dirt Stew would dig up. Sage had called Marcos a sleaze. How low a low-life would he turn out to be? Slowly Mac rose from his chair and headed for the kitchen. Whatever he found out, he would keep it from Sage for now.
* * * *
After supper, Mac led Sage into the living room, seated her on the couch, and made her put her legs up. He sat beside her, pushed up her pants leg, and removed the knee brace. When he placed his hand over the injured joint she shivered. Her body responded to his slightest touch. She imagined what it would be like if his hand drifted north. Let’s not go there!
“Did that hurt?” asked Mac, frown lines appearing between his brows. “It’s still a bit swollen and warm. How much have you been on it today? What have you been doing?”
“A little of this and that,” she answered. “Little Mouse let me help with cooking and some cleaning. She said I needed more exercise. You heard her.” His lips firmed and his frown deepened. “I wasn’t hauling in wood or running up and down stairs or scrubbing floors on my hands and knees.”
“I didn’t expect you were,” Mac answered calmly. “It’s time to start strengthening it and probably start weaning you off the brace. I’ll check with Two Feathers.”
“Thank you.”
“How about while you’re resting you make that call to your father,” he bid her, handing her the phone. “You said you wanted to do it tonight.”
“I suppose so,” said Sage with a moue of dissatisfaction. “You realize this is going to put me lower than rock bottom in his estimation.”
“It’s not your fault the plane crashed.”
“To him? Yes it will be. In his opinion, I can do nothing right.”
Mac hit the button to put the phone on speaker. “Maybe I can help defuse the situation. I promise not to open my mouth unless necessary.”
Slowly Sage dialed, but disconnected before she tapped in the final number. She stared across the room, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, hands clutching the receiver so tightly her knuckles were white. Mac laid his hand over hers, squeezing gently, staring intently until her eyes met his. His message that everything would be all right, that he was there to support her, steadied her trembling hands. She punched in the numbers quickly.
“Hello. Sheldon Burnett here.” The call was answered brusquely.
“Hi, Dad. Did I wake you?”
“Sage. What have you done now?” the resigned tone of voice not welcoming.
“Why do you ask that? Couldn’t I be calling just to say hi and how are you? To find out when you might be coming home so we could have dinner together?”
“I thought I squelched those nuisance calls years ago. You’re not that five year old anymore who used to sneak away from her nanny to call. After that call we received a couple weeks ago when you had the audacity to land in the hospital and almost screwed up our plans, what do you expect me to think?”
“Nothing good, that’s for sure,” she mumbled. She could feel the impenetrable wall raising up around her, closing her off from him. “You remember your Diamond D jet? Well, it is no more.”
“What the hell did you do to my plane, Sage?” screamed her father, interrupting her explanation. She could hear another screech and was sure it was her mother gearing up for her onslaught.
“I crashed it into the side of a mountain.” She heard the fatalistic sigh on the other end of the line.
“Well, it couldn’t be that bad. You’re alive. Why were you flying mine in the first place? You have your own. Was this another one of your stunts to impress your so-called friends?” She could hear his anger building and knew he was about to go off into one of his debasing tirades.
“Believe me, Dad, the plane can’t be fixed. It was insured, so you haven’t lost anything.” She jumped in to forestall him.
“And, sir, it took a great deal of skill and guts to belly-land that thing in the narrow space she had available.”
Sage looked at Mac.
“Who’s that? Where are you?” her father asked suspiciously.
“I’m Callum MacLain at the Elm Creek Ranch in Montana. She crashed on our mountain during a blizzard.”
“What were you thinking, Sage? Or were you? You’ve never flown in that type of weather.”
“Weather report in San Francisco didn’t mention any storms. I tried to get above the storm, but ice built up on the wings too quickly.”
“Why didn’t you use the deicers?” his tone suggesting she was too stupid.
“Because you never had them installed. You didn’t think they were a necessity,” was her sharp rejoinder.
“Well, I’ll have Bill contact the insurance company so they can get right on it,” he backed down.
“Be a couple months until they can get to the site,” interjected Mac. “The plane is sitting under a good five feet of snow.”
“I’ll be sure to tell them that. I have an early meeting in the A.M., so I’ve got
to go.” It was easy to tell he didn’t want to prolong the conversation.
Covering the phone with her hand, Sage whispered bitterly, “Watch this. You think he was irate? This will push his blood pressure through the roof.” She uncovered the phone. “Where’s your meeting, Dad?”
“We’re in the Florida Keys. Why?”
“I could grab a flight out tonight and meet you. Don’t you think it’s about time you brought me on board so I can take over when you retire?” They could hear sputtering on the other end like someone choking.
“You will never take over this company, Sage,” was growled with vehemence.
“Why? Because I don’t have a penis?” she asked. Mac looked at her in shock.
“You will not talk to your father like that!” came an angry feminine voice over the wire.
“Why not, Mother? He knows I have all the necessary credentials, except for his prerequisite appendage. Is he ashamed of me because I graduated with only a 3.98 GPA and made the Dean’s list every semester? He’s blackballed me from getting any job at any of the hotels. If I’m not wanted now, why did you have me in the first place?” The line went dead. She threw the phone to the other end of the couch and curled up with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Mac slid in behind her and lifted her onto his lap, cradling her head between his neck and shoulder. He encircled her shivering body gently with his arms, allowing her room to push away if she so desired. Instead, she burrowed in closer. His anger was evident in his firmly compressed lips and snapping, whiskey brown eyes, yet his hold was tender. He lightly stroked her back with his palm. Now he would more fully understand her motivation for acting the way she did all those years ago. He probably hadn’t truly believed her and thought her stories were only the imaginings of a troubled twelve year old.
Chapter Six
Mac watched Sage across the breakfast table. She ate sparingly of what Little Mouse placed in front of her, not raising her eyes from her plate. His lips firmed as he thought of a few choice words he would like to say to her father. Just because Sheldon Burnett was the biggest idiot that ever walked the earth didn’t give him the right to treat his daughter like she didn’t exist.
Mac’s protective instincts leaped to the fore. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise nothing would hurt her again, but he knew that was a fantasy. She hadn’t let him hold her very long after the phone conversation with her parents. She had risen from his lap, her eyes empty, her expression blank, and then walked from the room and up the stairs without a word to anyone. He had wanted to follow her, yet felt he couldn’t. She needed to process what was, and wasn’t, said in her own way, probably not for the first time.
He wanted her to open up, let him in. Unable to stand the silence any longer, he coughed and set his coffee mug down with a resounding thunk. That brought her eyes to his.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“That I should go to work for the opposition and put him out of business,” was her forthright answer.
“No doubt, in time, you could accomplish it. You have the motivation. But he has a head start on you with years of experience, probably with a ruthlessness and cutthroat attitude on his side.”
“It’s just my throat he’d like to cut. Although he most likely wouldn’t bother. I’m nothing.”
“Sage, don’t. Don’t demean yourself that way. You are an important person.” Especially to me. Someday, in the not too distant future, I hope to be able to show you how much. He wanted to remove that haunted look from her eyes. Make her smile. Put some peace back in her life like she had when she attended the survival camps, until he undid that, too.
“In what way?” Her look dared him to give her one good reason.
In for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well jump in with both feet. “How good are your business skills? Willing to put them to the test?”
“I’ve done pretty well, so far,” she said cautiously.
“Work with me. Take over the office here. I won’t have time to handle that and the survival camp we have coming up in two weeks. Plus we have three cabins to get ready for the five men taking part in it.”
He caught Two Feather’s gaze from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t take his eyes off Sage. He could see the glimmer of interest taking shape. Carefully he schooled his own expression to one of unpremeditated interest. His stomach clenched and his heartbeat skipped awaiting her answer.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she responded hesitantly. “You won’t be far away if questions come up. As far as the cabins, you’re willing for me to help physically in their preparation?”
“We’ve got time to go over the office stuff together before you’ll be on your own. Also got a couple new spreadsheet ideas you might be able to set up for me. The cabins won’t be all that physically hard to do. Either one of the hands or myself will be there to do any of the heavy stuff. Basically it will be removing the dust, making sure the beds are made and enough extra blankets and clean towels are available, and also ensuring the fridge and cupboards are stocked. You should be okay, if you’re willing to rest when I tell you or when you feel you need to.”
“I’ll be with her, too,” spoke up Little Mouse. “My eagle eye is still sharp.”
Mac grinned at the oh-no-I’ve-got-another-babysitter expression on Sage’s face. Two Feathers threw him a smart move wink and a knowing smile. He had figured out Mac’s reason for the proposition.
“When would you like me to start?” she asked cautiously.
“After breakfast, if you’re up to it. I can show you the office. Then you can come with me to check the cabins, see what needs to be done, and inventory the supplies,” he answered, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice. If he could make her feel important, needed, would it deter her plans for leaving? His need to protect her was prominent in his thoughts. Yes, he loved her and thoughts of losing her sent shivers up his spine. After the survival camp was over, he would see what more he could do. Her leaving was not an option!
* * * *
The two weeks went by rapidly. Sage was so happy to be doing something useful she pushed her own problem to the back of her mind. If she tried to surpass her physical limits, Mac stepped in and shut her down. The times spent alone with him in the office were enlightening. He had a good head for business and his ideas were workable.
Yet his closeness distracted her. When he leaned over her to point out something on the computer screen, shuffle papers to find a certain topic, or brace his hands on the desk to ask a question, his scent surrounded her. The light, musky aroma of his aftershave, the smell of fresh air that was always a part of him, plus the redolence of pure male had her body responding in ways it never had around other men.
She imagined those large, work roughened hands stroking her skin, the long fingers touching more intimate areas. She wasn’t listening, but was staring at his hands.
Those hands moved to her shoulders and squeezed gently as he leaned in close. “Information overload?” he whispered, his breath brushing her neck. She shivered and wondered what she would do if he placed his lips on that spot just below her ear. She needed him to back away.
“Tomorrow I have to go into town for supplies for the cabins. Come with me,” he said, moving over to lean against the fireplace mantel.
“Not a good idea. I’d probably scare small children.” Her posture stiffened and a frown developed. Fear was aroused in Sage as she looked up at Callum.
“I doubt that. At first, you may get some questioning looks. I did when I got home. But the people around here are willing to accept you as you are. They know you from when you were here before. The media coverage of what happened to you never reached this area. Nobody’s going to pick up a phone to let the world know where you are. You will still be safe. And you need some jeans and shirts. You’re ruining your good clothes.”
“Maybe. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“You need to get back out into the world. Yo
ur work won’t wait forever. What do you do?”
“Technically, I don’t really have a job. I graduated from college with a double major, Business Management and Hotel Management. I was hoping it would give me the in with Dad. So far, no luck. So I’m volunteering at a rec center in Bayview-Hunters Point in southeast San Francisco, not too far from Candlestick Park. It’s a community with a high rate of unemployment, poverty, and crime.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very safe area for you to be working.” He crossed his arms across his chest and stood straighter, a scowl on his face.
“I don’t have any problems. I’ve earned their respect because I respect them. I wrote a couple grant proposals from which the rec center received enough money to keep it viable for another three years. I work with the kids, mainly tutoring, showing them what’s out there beyond the confines of the community and how they can pull themselves out of the hopelessness they feel.”
“And how has that worked for you?” he asked, a note of skepticism in his voice.
“So far, we’ve got two of them into college on scholarships. A couple of the boys cleaned up their acts enough to be able to join the army. One has turned himself around so far as to get into the Criminal Justice Academy and hopes to join the SFPD. The girls have been a little harder to reach.”
“Why? I should think you would impress them with your accomplishments.”
“Right.” She snorted. “Their take is I’m the rich bitch who’s come slumming because I have to do charitable deeds. That I’m trying to make them feel they’re better than the others in the community. Better than their parents. Families are close knit there. Their heritage is important. Also we’re competing with the gangs for membership.”
“What do you see for their future?”
“Redevelopment is working on the old Hunters Point Naval Shipyard as a commercial enterprise. It’s easily accessed by road and large ships. I don’t know how quickly it will come together. I had also started talking with one of the gang leaders about how they could improve their community instead of making it worse. Now he probably figures I’m just a bag of wind and bailed on them.”