The Cowboy's Craving (Book 4, the Mackenzies—Morgan)

by Diana Fraser

  Where the hell was she? Morgan stepped back over the low fence at the back of Rebecca’s cottage and cursed softly as the curtains twitched at a neighbor’s property. Christ, he’d be had up for trespassing next.

  He knocked once more on the back door, trying to see any movement through the kitchen window. But there was none. No lights, no radio, no movement, no sign of life. All the other windows still had their heavy curtains drawn against the night. But it was no longer night and it was obvious that Rebecca hadn’t returned home from the stockyard. It was eight in the morning and he couldn’t find here anywhere.

  She wasn’t at the Observatory, she wasn’t answering her home or cell phone, and it didn’t look as if she was at home. Her car wasn’t outside for one thing and, for another, her paper and mail were still stuffed in the letterbox. She’d have cleared them if she’d been home. He’d tried Gemma but she didn’t know where she was either. It seemed she’d vanished into thin air.

  Damn Leah. He got into his ute and made a few detours hoping he’d find Rebecca walking or driving through the quiet streets of Tekapo. But no such luck and after a few circuits of the small town, he’d returned to the road to Glencoe. If she didn’t want to see him there wasn’t much he could do about it. But there was something else he definitely needed to do. He needed to track down his son. He needed to see the only person he could think of who might be able to help.

  Morgan found Callum in his office. He’d looked everywhere else first because he knew that Callum would rather be outside doing something than stuck indoors at a desk. He understood the scowl on Callum’s face.

  He knocked on the open door.

  Callum turned around and the scowl disappeared. “Morgan! Come in.”

  Morgan walked into the book-lined study and nodded in greeting. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “God, yes. I’m glad of the break. All this”—he indicated a pile of scattered papers on his desk—“legal stuff to do with the settlement of the estate is driving me mad.” He sighed and stood up. “So what’s up? Anything wrong down at the sheds?”

  “No, it’s all good. Just wanted a word about another matter—something personal—if you’ve time.”

  Callum nodded thoughtfully. “Coffee?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Take a seat.”

  Morgan walked past the leather suite and coffee table and sat on one of the hard-backed chairs at the meeting table.

  Callum brought two black coffees to the table. “Here you go. So tell me what’s on your mind.”

  That was one of the many things Morgan respected about Callum. He didn’t mess around, didn’t talk for the sake of it. They even liked the same drink. Black coffee. No sugar.

  “I need help. I know you have contacts in the States and I’m asking for help to find someone.”

  “Who?”

  “My child.” He paused. “And his mother.”

  To Callum’s credit all he did was raise his eyebrows and take another sip of coffee. Then he sat back and eyed him directly. “Sure. Give me the details and I’ll give my contacts a call.”

  Half an hour later and Callum’s contacts were able to reassure Morgan that they’d be able to find Leah and Joe, in whatever way they needed to—legal or illegal.

  “Take the rest of the day off. Sort your stuff out. By the end of the day, unless Leah is cleverer than I imagine, we’ll have an address and you can get yourself out there.”

  “Thanks.” Morgan tried to think of something else to say, something that would better express his feelings of relief. He’d thought he’d find it difficult asking someone—especially Callum, because of who he was, a Mackenzie and owner of Glencoe—for help. But Callum had made it easy for him. And Morgan felt nothing but relief. Words floated into his mind and fell away again. He rose. “Thanks,” he repeated. “I appreciate it.”

  Callum nodded to Morgan in acknowledgement as he began talking on the other end of the phone. Morgan closed the door behind him. But instead of returning to his quarters, he went to the ute. Packing could wait. He needed to see Rebecca before he left. But he needed to find her first.

  After spending the morning driving to Christchurch only to get there and decide to turn back, Rebecca had arrived at the Observatory six hours later just in time to begin work. She felt exhausted but calm until she entered her office to find Morgan sitting silently opposite Martin who was talking ten to the dozen. Morgan jumped up as soon as she entered.

  “Rebecca!”

  Martin turned around to see her. “At last, the mystery is solved! Miss Mayhew hasn’t been abducted by aliens after all. Morgan”—he turned with a grin to Morgan—“I shall leave you in her capable hands.”

  “Please stay, Martin,” Rebecca said frostily, trying to calm the violent beating of her heart. “We don’t need privacy, do we Morgan?” She stared at him, daring him to contradict her.

  “Oh, no, my dear, I’m out of here,” said Martin quickly.

  “Stay!” she said too fiercely.

  Martin’s eyes widened but he stayed. He pulled a face and held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, I’ve some emails to check.” He sat down with his back to them and waved his hand. “Just carry on as if I’m not here.”

  “Rebecca, I...” Morgan glanced helplessly at Martin.

  “I’m not sure why you came Morgan, but I really don’t see there’s anything to talk about and, as you see, I’m at work and need to get on. So... “

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Martin glanced up at Morgan who seemed larger than usual in the small office she and Martin shared. Then Martin glanced back at Rebecca. “He’s not leaving, you know. I’d get it over with if I were you.”

  She could see by Morgan’s implacable stance that Martin was right.

  “Okay. So did you find your son?” she asked frostily.

  “Son?” breathed a shocked Martin.

  “Yes, son. Apparently Morgan has a wife and child.” She was talking to Martin, but looking directly at Morgan.

  Martin looked up at Morgan. “For real? Good God, I’m out of here. A small scene I can cope with but this could be too dramatic even for me.” With that, he’d disappeared out the door before Rebecca could react.

  Truth was, she’d forgotten about Martin. She could only focus on Morgan and trying to suppress the wave of pain that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed and gulped in a quick breath.

  “Rebecca, I...”

  “How’s your family?” she interrupted. “Well, I hope?”

  “Rebecca, don’t do this. Let me explain.”

  “Explain?” She shrugged and walked over to her computer, focusing on getting her shaking fingers to press the right keys. “You don’t have to explain anything to me—an ex girlfriend.” She sat down and swiveled the mouse around the desk to activate the cursor. “Maybe I wasn’t even a girlfriend. Perhaps I had some other name which I don’t know. Because I don’t know how to play this game, Morgan.”

  “It’s no game. This is about my son. I need to find him.”

  “You shouldn’t have lost him in the first place.”

  His grip was savage against her arms as he jerked her to standing. “Don’t be so damned flippant. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She twisted her arms free and slammed her hands against his chest—twice. “Of course I don’t. Why? Because you’ve told me nothing. Nothing!”

  He reached out to her. “That’s what I’m trying to do now. Honey, I—”

  She slapped back his hand. “Don’t you dare ‘honey’ me.” She paced away, glaring at him all the while.

  He held up both hands as if trying coax a reluctant mare.

  “And don’t do that hand thing to me that you do with horses. I’m not a damn horse.”

  “Just listen to me.”

  “Why should I? I’m not your wife.”

  “My wife never listened to me anyway.” He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked at her ruefully.

 
“So you admit that she’s your wife, then. That wasn’t a figment of my imagination.”

  “She was my wife. Was. Past tense. She’s not my wife any longer. We’re divorced. For a couple of years.”

  “Come on a minute. Someone’s lying here. Why should I believe you, and not your wife?”

  “It’s up to you who you believe. But I thought you’d know me better than that, know that I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “But you didn’t tell me about your ex-wife, or about your child. Do I have to ask you specific questions to get the full picture from you?”

  “I’d have told you about Joe at some point but it’s hard talking about him. I don’t talk about Joe, I don’t talk about Leah, to anyone. I don’t want to talk about Leah and Joe... it hurts. But I would have told you.”

  “And why the hell aren’t you with them? A father should be there for his child.”

  “Christ! Don’t you think I want to be? Look, it’s not that easy.” He paused. “It’s complicated.”

  “Of course it is,” she said with heavy sarcasm.

  “You don’t understand, Rebecca.”

  “And how can I if you don’t tell me anything?”

  “I’ll tell you now. Anything. What would you like to know?”

  She suddenly felt exhausted and sat back on her chair. “I’d like to know about your marriage and your son. Everything.”

  “Then I’ll tell you.”

  There was a knock at the door and Martin peered around. “Everything okay?” Without waiting for an answer he placed two coffees on the desk. “Rebecca, you look dreadful, have a coffee.” He glanced at Morgan. “And you don’t look dreadful at all, even if you should. But you can have a cup anyway.”

  Neither of them acknowledged Martin—they only had eyes for each other—as he quickly left the room.

  Morgan sighed and sat down opposite her. “I’m sorry you found out like this. She texts me from time to time. It’s usually about money. She always claims it’s urgent and it never is, so I’ve stopped responding.”

  “She depends on you for money?”

  “I doubt I’m her only source of income.”

  “Another man, you mean?”

  “She’s had plenty of them since we’ve separated. Even before we separated. And no doubt plenty since we’ve divorced. But they’re not all such a soft touch when it comes to giving her money.”

  “And why are you?”

  He took a sip of scalding coffee and then placed it on the table, absent-mindedly spooning in a couple of spoonfuls of sugar. Rebecca knew for a fact that Morgan didn’t take sugar. “Because of Joe. It’s all I can do to help him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she won’t tell me where they are.” He sighed and she could see the pain in the etched lines around his mouth. And when he looked up, in the sadness in his eyes. “She just upped and left with Joe two years ago. I think she’s in the States. But no idea which city. It’ll be a big city, somewhere with a lot of illegal immigrants. Somewhere she can blend in.”

  “Why won’t she tell you where they are? Why doesn’t she want you to know? I don’t understand. What’s she scared of?”

  “It’s all a game to her. She’s always been a drama queen creating rifts, petty arguments, to keep herself amused. The more desperate she thinks I am to see Joe, the more determined she is not to tell me. She seems to think I stole her youth, getting her pregnant at eighteen. And five years later she’s still trying to punish me.”

  “Then why doesn’t she let you have Joe?”

  “Because she loves him. I know she loves him and so far I’m guessing he hasn’t interfered with her private life. I reckon the day he gets in the way of what she wants to do is the day she’ll tell me where they are.”

  “Do you think that day’s come?”

  “Maybe. Seems something’s bad happened to Joe. Some kind of trauma. I don’t really know. Leah was vague but I think she’s panicking. But not enough to tell me where they are. Just enough to demand money.”

  “What do you think’s happened to him?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. All I could get out of her was that it wasn’t life-threatening.”

  “Is there any other way you can find them? Can’t you get her traced? Won’t the police help?”

  “No. I’ve tried everything I could think of. I’ve gone to lawyers to see if I could get custody, or get information in exchange for child support. I’ve even hired private detectives but they didn’t come up with anything. So I’ve gone to Callum. His family have contacts in the States and it looks like they can help—one way or another.”

  He took a sip of his sweet coffee and grimaced. She pushed over hers and, unaware of what he was doing, he drank it back.

  “I’m worried about Joe,” he continued. “Leah says he’s not going to school and won’t let her out of his sight. She reckons she can’t work and that’s why she needs money. Worries the hell out of me. Health care is expensive in the States. I told her to come back here and get him treated but she won’t.”

  “Maybe nothing much is wrong with him,” said Rebecca, beginning to form a picture of Leah. “And you can’t trust what she says, can you?”

  “No way. But I can’t dismiss it either. Even if Callum’s contacts draw a blank I’m going to the States to try to track them down.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands and stared out at the night sky littered with stars.

  She followed his gaze and saw once more the universe with his eyes—chaotic and magical. She looked back at Morgan. “Tell me about Joe.”

  He bit his lip but continued to look into the night sky. “He’s just had his fifth birthday. He’s a good boy. Just as well with a mother like Leah. He’s a bit on the serious side but he’s brave. When she’s feeling generous Leah’ll put him on the phone and I can talk to him. I just hate…” He pressed his lips together and took another sip of the over-sweet coffee, without noticing he didn’t like it. “I hate the thought that he’s not happy, that he’s sick, that he’s missing me, wondering where I am. And I hate the thought that she’s shacked up with someone who might hurt him.”

  How had it happened, she wondered? That she could actually feel such empathy for someone, that she could feel his pain viscerally, greater than her own. She choked back tears but this time, they weren’t for herself, but for him. She reached over and placed her hand on his. “You’ll find him, don’t worry.” She paused and withdrew her hand. “What will you do once you find him?”

  “I’m done trying to talk to Leah. It’s time for me to bring him home. I need to get back. See if there’s any news. Try to find out where the hell they are.”

  They both rose and she took his cup from him. She wanted to reach out for him, she wanted to connect with him, to break down that barrier that had arisen between them. But he had things to do—family to track down—that had nothing to do with her. She suddenly had an image of him on a path to her, a path where they’d collided intensely for one short period of time, before he’d glanced off and gone careering away from her. All the time her instincts were screaming at her to reach out for him, she knew she couldn’t, not if she were to protect herself. And who would look after herself if she didn’t? “Good luck.”

  He nodded once and then left.

  She remained standing looking at the closed door, listening to his retreating footsteps before they were lost in the noise of the observatory. “Right,” she turned away and logged onto the computer, willing her fingers to move over the keyboard, willing her mind to turn away from that place of pain that she felt as if it were a physical thing, and take control once more.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Three weeks later…

  Morgan peered out the airplane window, searching through the white fluffy clouds that floated beneath them for the first signs of the sweep of the South Island coastline. His eyes were scratchy and tired—he felt like he hadn’t slept in a week, and he probably hadn’t—but he couldn’t stop looking
until he’d seen it. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted to see anything so much. Three weeks away from his country, his land, his home, and he couldn’t wait to return.

  But it wasn’t just about him. He couldn’t wait to show Joe his new home. He looked at the sleeping boy whose head lay in his lap, his small body curled under the blanket. Joe had managed to stay awake for much of the flight but now, just when they were about to land, he was dead to the world.

  He placed his hand—which covered most of Joe’s back—on top of him gently, needing to feel the heat of his small body, to make it real. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy—his son was withdrawn and uncertain—but he also knew there could be no other outcome. He’d found his son and he was never going to let him go. And he’d make sure he grew up without the hang-ups that he had.

  It had only been after they’d boarded the flight back to New Zealand that Morgan had had time to think things through, to wonder how the hell he was going to cope with a young boy as a solo dad. Up until then he’d had no thought beyond his need to take his son home with him. The weeks had passed in a whirlwind series of meetings—hysterical ones at first with his ex when she’d discovered he wouldn’t be giving her the money that she’d wanted to buy a car to go around the States with her new boyfriend and Joe. But the hysteria had quietened when Morgan had given her a vision of what her life could be like without Joe. A life where she could come and go as she pleased.

  Seems he’d always frustrated her by his lack of reaction to her dramatics… until the day she’d taken Joe away. But that feeling of satisfaction had been short-lived and she’d soon discovered how having a small son cramped her style. And when she was offered her freedom again, she’d grabbed it with both hands.