Fifty miles per hour.
Mac took his foot off the gas. They didn’t need Daniel to skid off the side of the road and down several hundred feet of steep canyon. All they really needed was for him to reach the road block.
•••••
Daniel could barely take his eyes off the rear view mirror.
Who in the hell is that?
They’d been on their way to the commune. The baby cried and coughed in the back seat as his mind flashed back to what Maurice had said.
The police?
He glanced at the road and jerked the wheel as the tires squealed and he leaned into the next turn.
But the police would use their sirens.
He stared at the rear view mirror again as the lights appeared on cue.
They’re following me.
He jammed his foot down on the gas as the road straightened out.
But who? Who is following me?
Suddenly, he was at another curve.
“Shit,” he muttered, cranking the wheel just in time.
A light in the dash came on.
The gas light? The goddamn gas light?
“Shit!” he yelled, pulling and pushing on the steering wheel as though he could rip it off the column. “Goddammit!”
Could he make it to Malibu? It was downhill from here. He could picture the gas station on PCH.
The baby coughed and then squealed.
“Just shut up,” he yelled. “Shut up!”
The tires screeched around another turn. He glanced in the mirror. The other car had fallen far back. He stared at the headlights. Was that even the same car?
The road dipped and the fuel light went out but as he rounded the next curve, Daniel could hardly believe what he was seeing. There was a reason the other car had fallen back. Up ahead, just past where the road rose again, both lanes were blocked by police cars, lights flashing.
“Shit!” he yelled.
He glanced left. The black depths of the canyon lay below the silver guard rail. He glanced right. The steep wall of the cut hill had given way to trees. Behind him, headlights rounded the last curve. He only had a second to decide.
He yanked the wheel right.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN THE BRAKE lights hadn’t appeared, Mac already knew what was happening.
“Oh my god!” Isabelle screamed in the passenger seat.
Daniel’s car flew off the winding road only ten yards short of the police cars. Sparks flew everywhere.
“Hold on!” Mac yelled.
Daniel’s tail lights were bouncing erratically as he went off-road.
Idiot. The clearance on his vehicle wasn’t nearly enough.
Isabelle grabbed the door rest and the center console.
Mac swerved to his right. He had just enough time to see the police officers scrambling to get into their cars. The SUV bounced across a drainage ditch at the edge of the pavement. Only a dozen yards ahead of them, Daniel’s car was lurching into the trees.
No way. The trees are too dense. Stop now!
But it was too late.
The road block had been set up there for this very reason. There was no way around.
Daniel’s car side-swiped one tree, plowed through a dense thicket of tall bushes, and then the left side of the car dipped dramatically. But Daniel wasn’t through. The car righted itself, plunged on and then swerved left. He was trying to get back to the road. But just as he turned, the right side of the car jumped upward, tilting at a crazy angle.
A boulder? A root?
Whatever it was, it sent the car veering crazily to the left and straight into a tree.
“No!” Isabelle screamed.
The crunch of metal and the shattering of glass filled the air and reverberated in Mac’s chest. Quickly, he slammed on the brakes, bringing them to almost a complete stop.
Faster than he’d realized Isabelle could move, she was out the door.
•••••
Though she tripped, Isabelle didn’t fall. The high heels made the going tough but she rushed toward the car. The headlights from the SUV shone over the uneven ground and she heard a popping and hissing sound as steam started to rise from the crumpled hood of Daniel’s car.
“Isabelle!” Mac called from behind.
But she couldn’t stop. She all but crashed into the back of the car, tail lights still blaring red.
Did he have the baby?
Was Little Gavin all right?
Isabelle scampered to the left, around the tail light. Daniel was slumped over the wheel but she ignored him and threw open the door to the back seat.
“Oh my god,” she exclaimed.
Mac was instantly behind her.
“Is he–”
Isabelle knelt on the seat next to the car carrier.
“Gavin?” she said. In the semi-dark she could barely make him out but a sudden cry erupted from him. “Gavin!” she said, reaching for him.
“Don’t move him,” Mac said, holding her back at the shoulder. “Leave him in the carrier. He might have an injury.” She stopped mid-reach, his little wail almost more than she could take. “Unlock the seat belt,” Mac said.
The policemen had arrived and were opening the front doors. A flashlight flitted across Little Gavin. He was red-faced and his mouth was open but that was all she could see. He was still wrapped in the blanket from the hospital. She reached over the carrier and found the seat belt but pressing on the release wasn’t working.
“It’s jammed,” she said, grunting. “It won’t come loose.”
“Here,” Mac said, hand on her back. “Let me.”
Reluctantly, she backed out.
In moments, Mac had the carrier free. Gingerly, he backed out, carrier handle in one hand, trying not to jostle it.
“Get some paramedics,” he said to the officer at the driver’s door.
“Already on their way,” the officer said.
“Get away from the wreck,” Mac said.
She felt Mac’s hand under her arm.
“Is he okay?” she asked, trying to get a look at the baby.
“I don’t know,” Mac said. “Luckily, the car wasn’t going fast by the time he hit the tree. If the car seat did it’s job, he’s probably fine.”
Maybe the fact that he was crying was good, Isabelle hoped.
Mac opened the back door of the police car, gently set the carrier down on the seat, and stood aside. Little Gavin continued to cry and, as much as it pained Isabelle to hear his piteous mewling, it at least meant that his lungs were all right. There was a siren in the distance and, under the car’s dome light, Isabelle had her first chance to really see the baby. He was so tiny! The blanket had been hiked up between his legs to allow the shoulder restraints to be clipped in near his heels. The thick pads near his head dwarfed him, as did the padded straps. But everything looked snug and tight.
“Gavin,” she cooed, lightly running the backs of her gloved fingers across his forehead. “Gavin, it’s okay.”
His eyes opened at her touch and he seemed to look at her face. She smiled at him but then he squeezed his eyes shut and began to cry again. “It’s okay,” she said, stroking his tiny forehead again.
God, please let him be okay.
“Here’s the paramedic,” Mac said from behind her.
As she backed out, the paramedic quickly moved past her, set his box on the car floor, and bent over Gavin. Mac hugged her around the shoulder as she tried to see what the paramedic was doing.
“Ow!” Daniel cried out. She and Mac both turned to look. “Ow, my leg!” Three police officers and another paramedic were lowering him onto a stretcher, his left thigh in a splint. “I said, ow, goddammit!”
A sudden fury swept over Isabelle and she broke free of Mac’s grasp.
If Little Gavin were injured, if he was hurt in any way…
She nearly ran as she undid her right glove, stumbling in her heels, but intent on the goal. The paramedic was holding a drip bag
that led to Daniel’s arm.
“On three,” the paramedic said, as she drew closer.
“Isabelle?” Mac said, following her. “Isabelle, what are you doing?”
“One, two, three,” said the paramedic as all four of them lifted the stretcher from the ground. More police cars had arrived. Police officers were examining Daniel’s car, particularly where the bumper wrapped around the tree. No one was paying any attention to her. She ripped off her glove, stepped next to the stretcher, and laid her hand on Daniel’s bare arm, next to the IV.
Immediately there was pain in her leg but she pushed past that and the world faded to gray. Daniel was staring at Maurice. Daniel was furious. They didn’t want to sell his baby. Well screw them. They’d see it his way. Computer files sailed through her vision, images of screens, disks, text. And one word over and over again.
Botox?
Someone pushed her back.
“Hey!” Daniel yelled. “Don’t let her touch me. She doesn’t have a right to touch me.”
Isabelle pitched backward but immediately collided with something.
“I’ve got you,” Mac whispered.
“Hey!” Daniel yelled. “She can’t do that.”
“Get him out of here,” Mac ordered. “I want a Special Agent with him at all times.” Isabelle felt Mac turn her toward him. “Just look up at me, as though you can see,” he said quietly. “People are looking.”
But as the images from the reading began to coalesce and order themselves, she could barely get control of herself. She gripped his arms hard.
“He was going to sell Gavin,” she breathed. “He was going to sell his own baby!”
“What?” Mac said.
She looked up toward his voice but couldn’t see him.
“He was with Maurice,” she said, the words tumbling out. “Maurice didn’t want the baby. Maurice was angry. Told him to leave.” She blinked as the gray began to fade. “I can’t believe it!” she whispered. “Sell his own child.”
“Sell him?” Mac said. “Sell a baby to Maurice? You’d think that’s the last thing they needed at the Green Earth Commune.”
Isabelle blinked again. The fog was clearing. She was looking up into Mac’s concerned face. Flashing lights lit them both and more sirens were still approaching. The trees around them seemed to swirl as the lights revolved. Isabelle was a moment getting her bearings as she continued to grip Mac’s arms and he held on to her shoulders.
“Did you see anything else?” Mac said quietly.
Police officers and agents bustled around them.
“He was furious,” Isabelle said. She turned, trying to see Daniel. They were just loading him into the ambulance. He was staring at her. “He knows something that can hurt Maurice.”
Daniel disappeared behind the open back door. Then the door shut.
“Knows what?” Mac said.
Isabelle shook her head. It didn’t make sense but she said it anyway.
“Botox.”
She looked up at Mac and he looked as puzzled as she felt.
“That’s it?” he said. “Botox?”
She took a deep breath, trying to find another image, something else, anything else, but the reading had been too quick.
“No,” she said. “Just Botox.”
A police officer strode up to them.
“Paramedic wants to see you,” he said, and he pointed at a second ambulance.
“Oh my god,” Isabelle said. “Gavin.”
Both she and Mac rushed to the road, Mac helping her over the cement drainage ditch. They arrived at the back of the ambulance, Isabelle out of breath and she realized she couldn’t hear Gavin crying.
Oh no.
But as the paramedic turned to them, he smiled, taking the stethoscope from his ears.
“Doctors orders are to transport him in the carrier,” he said. “But, as you can see, I think he’s going to be okay.”
The carried was strapped to a gurney and in the carrier was Little Gavin, staring blankly but sucking furiously on something the paramedic was holding. It looked like surgical tubing.
Why would he need–
“An improvised pacifier,” the man said. “My daughter loved the stuff.”
“Oh my god,” Isabelle breathed, relief flooding through her. “Oh thank god.”
“He’s dehydrated and hungry,” said the paramedic. “But, as far as I can tell, he’s fine.”
“Thank you,” she said in a trembling voice. Mac put his arm around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MAC LAID THE holstered weapon into his suitcase and closed the lid. Then, as an afterthought, he zipped it closed. If, for some reason he couldn’t possibly imagine, the suitcase fell over, he didn’t want the gun to tumble out. Who knew if Isabelle would touch it by accident.
He pictured her grabbing Daniel’s arm.
That had been no accident. She’d been furious.
And Daniel had been afraid.
Tomorrow Mac would question him.
And he’d have to talk with Scanlon. The fact that Isabelle had been at the crash site, had even read Daniel–that all had to be in the report. And it was going to be a problem. Maybe a big one.
And there was still the issue of classified data and Isabelle reading him.
Mac glanced once more at the closed suitcase and turned to see Isabelle watching him from the bedroom door.
“This isn’t working,” she whispered. “Is it.”
Her sad smile said it all.
Mac’s gut wrenched and his first instinct was to deny it. He even opened his mouth to start. But something in Isabelle’s face stopped him. She’d eventually read the truth anyway.
He fought a sinking feeling in his stomach and a constriction in his throat. They were at a crossroads. He sensed it in the every fiber of his being. Their future was in the balance.
“I’ll tell you what works,” he said finally. Isabelle’s eyes were riveted to him. “The way we got little Gavin back today.” But it was as though she hadn’t heard him, her expression frozen. “That was you and me,” he said, stepping toward her. “A team. A great one.” She shrugged a little, a movement of resigned acceptance that wasn’t exactly encouraging. “When we’re together,” he said quietly, stepping closer as he searched for the right words, “we’re more than just our sum.” He stood just in front of her but she didn’t reach out. “I don’t know how to describe it,” he said truthfully. “But I’m not half of a couple.” He looked into her somber eyes. “If I’m not with you,” he said, holding his hands out for her to take, “I’m not complete.” He waited for her to place her hands in his. She looked down at them. “And I think you feel the same.” Several moments went by but Isabelle didn’t move and his heart began to sink. “If you can tell me you feel differently,” Mac said, dreading the words he was about to say, “then I’ll leave.”
•••••
The words echoed in Isabelle’s head as she stared hard at Mac’s outstretched hands. And with each echo, they got louder until it was nearly a shout.
‘Then I’ll leave.’
She winced. Despite knowing this had been inevitable, his words suddenly captured and crystalized the moment. A familiar pain blossomed in her chest–the fear she had both nursed and tried to run from. The fear that always seemed to come between them. Deep down, she’d always known this could never work.
She stared at Mac’s hands.
But with him, she had dared to hope–and now that hope was tearing her apart.
It was time to stop the fear.
Time to let go.
Slowly, Mac lowered his hands.
But then, as though she were watching herself from outside her own body, she saw her hands fly forward and snatch his up.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
•••••
“Isabelle,” Mac said as he tugged her forward.
For a single, tortuous moment, he’d tho
ught she might actually do it. But as he wound his arms around her, she clutched his back and sobbed into his chest.
He crushed her to him and shut his eyes as his mind drew back from the brink.
What would I have done if she hadn’t taken my hands?
“Don’t go,” she said against his chest. He looked down at her tear-streaked face. “Don’t go,” she repeated quickly. “Don’t go. You can’t go.”
Her glassy eyes were haunted, almost wild.
Quickly, he grasped her face between his hands as her arms tightened fiercely around him.
“Never,” he whispered, leaning down to her, focusing on her quivering lips.
Then he placed his lips gently on them.
•••••
Isabelle closed her eyes to the soft press of Mac’s lips as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Impossible.
That’s the only word for it.
In the moment that she’d thought she would actually lose him, it had simply been impossible.
Because the alternative…
Inwardly, she cringed, the trembling in her lips moving into her core. The alternative was so unthinkable she couldn’t confront it. She wouldn’t. Instead, she willed the possibility away, forced her mind to turn from it.
Instead, she focused on Mac.
On her lips, his kiss was feathery light and slow. She savored the moist, lingering cling of it and the way his lips moved along hers. Her own mouth was tentative, afraid to break the moment and return to the reality of what she’d nearly done. But it was as though Mac felt the same. He became still at times, as if moving too fast might burst the bubble. Though the masculine side of Mac was incredibly sensual, sometimes even scary, the tender side of him was overwhelming. The less he did, the more she wanted.
Carefully, her lips began to explore his. She slowly suckled his plump lower lip and felt his mouth respond. His lips were warm and full, his breath just a whisper across her skin. The tip of her tongue tested him, a tiny nudge of the flesh lightly grasped between her lips. Though she’d clutched his back from the start, his hands only now drifted to her neck and then down her back. He opened his mouth to her, waiting.
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