Mackenzie's Pleasure (19 page)

Sheriff. Zane thought about it, growing more intrigued with the idea. He had no

illusions about it being a Cakewalk. He would have difficulties with the fifteen-year

veteran, at least, and likely all the other deputies would have some reservations and

resistance about someone from the outside being brought in. Hell, he liked it better that way.

Cakewalks didn't interest him. He'd rather have a challenging job any day. "Okay, I'm

interested. What does it involve?"

"A lot of headache, mostly. The pay's decent, the hours are lousy. A reservation sits on

part of the county, so you'll have to deal with the BIA. There's a big problem with illegal

immigrants, but that's for the INS to worry about. Generally, this isn't a high crime area.

Not enough people."

So here he was, his strength back, the owner of a house and a hundred acres of land,

newly sworn in as sheriff. He'd brought in a few of his horses from his parents' place in

Wyoming. It was a hell of a change from the Navy.

It was time to see about Barrie. He'd thought about her a lot over the past few months,

but lately he couldn't think about anything else. The uneasy feeling was persisting, growing

stronger. He'd put his resources to work, and to his surprise found that she'd left Athens

within a week of being returned there. She was currently living at the Lovejoy private

residence in Arlington, Virginia. Moreover, last month the ambassador had abruptly asked to

be replaced, and he, too, had returned to Virginia. Zane wished Mr. Lovejoy had remained in

Athens, but his presence was a problem that could be handled.

No matter what her father did or said, Zane was determined to see Barrie. There was

unfinished business between them, a connection that had been abruptly cut when he'd been shot

and she had been forced aboard a flight to Athens. He knew the hot intimacy of those long

hours together could have been a product of stress and propinquity, but at this point, he didn't

give a damn. There were other considerations, ones he couldn't ignore. That was why he had

a flight out of Tucson to Washington in the morning. He needed to be sleeping, but one

thought kept going around and around in his head. She was pregnant. He couldn't say why he

was so convinced of it. It was a gut feeling, an intuition, even a logical conclusion. There

hadn't been any means of birth control available; they had made love several times. Put the

two facts together, and the possibility of pregnancy existed. He didn't think it was a mere

possibility, though; he thought it was a fact.

Barrie was going to have his baby.

The rush of fierce possessiveness he felt was like a tidal wave, sweeping away all his

cautious plans. There wouldn't be any gradual getting-to-know-each-other stage, no easing

into the idea of a serious relationship. If she was pregnant, they would get married

immediately. If she didn't like the idea, he would convince her. It was as simple as that.

She was pregnant.
Barrie hugged the precious knowledge to herself, not ready yet to let

anyone else know, certainly not her father. The kidnapping and the aftermath had driven a

wedge between them that neither of them could remove. He was desperate to restore their

former relationship; nothing else could have induced him to resign from a post, an action that

could have had serious repercussions for his career if it hadn't generally been thought that he had

resigned because she had been so traumatized by the kidnapping that she couldn't remain in

Athens and he wanted to be with her.

She tried not to think about whatever he might be involved in, because it hurt. It hurt

horribly that he might be a traitor. Part of her simply couldn't believe it; he was an oldfashioned man, a man to whom honor wasn't just a word but a way of life. She had no proof,

only logic and her own deductions... that, and the expression he hadn't quite been able to hide

when she had asked him directly if he was involved in anything that might have resulted in her

being kidnapped.

It also hurt horribly that he had kept her from Zane. She had made inquiries once she

reached Virginia, but once again she had collided with a stone wall. No one would give her

any information at all about him. She had even contacted SEAL headquarters and been politely

stonewalled again. At least with the SEALs it was probably policy to safeguard the team

members' identities and location, given the sensitive nature of the antiterrorism unit.

She was having his baby. She wanted him to know about it. She wouldn't expect

anything of him that he didn't want to give, but she wanted him to know about his child. And

she desperately wanted to see him again. She was adrift and lonely and frightened, her

emotions in turmoil, and she needed some security in that part of her life, at least. He wasn't

the kind of man who would blithely walk away from his offspring and ignore their existence.

This baby would be a permanent link between them, something she could count on.

She doubted her father would relent concerning Zane even if he knew about the baby; his

possessiveness would probably extend to a grandchild, even an illegitimate one. He would

take steps to keep her pregnancy quiet, and even when the news got around, as it inevitably

would, people would assume it was a child of rape, and they would look at her pityingly and

talk about how brave she was.

She thought she would go mad. She had escaped to Virginia only to have her father

follow. He panicked if she went anywhere unescorted. She had her own car, but he didn't want

her driving it; he wanted his driver to take her wherever she wanted to go. She had had to

sneak to a pharmacy to buy a home pregnancy test, though she had been sure fairly early on that

she was pregnant. The test had merely confirmed what her body had already told her. Barrie

knew she should be worried and upset about this unplanned pregnancy, but it was the only

thing in her life right now that made her happy. She was intensely lonely; the kidnapping and the

long hours alone with Zane had set her apart from the other people in her life. She had

memories they couldn't share, thoughts and needs no one could understand. Zane had been there

with her; he would have understood her occasional pensiveness, her reticence in talking about

it. It wasn't that she was secretive, for she would have liked to talk to someone who understood.

But what she had shared with Zane was like a combat experience, forming a unique bond

between the people who had lived it.

She wouldn't be able to keep her pregnancy secret much longer; she had to arrange

prenatal care, and all telephone calls were now recorded. She supposed she could sneak out

again and set up a doctor's appointment from a pay phone, but she would be damned if she

would.

Enough was enough. She was an adult, and soon to be a mother. She hated the fact that

her relationship with her father had deteriorated to the point where they barely spoke, but she

couldn't find a way to mend it. As long as the possibility of his involvement in treasonous

activities remained, she was helpless. She wanted him to explain, to give her a plausible reason

why she had been kidnapped. She wanted to stop looking over her shoulder every time she

went out; she didn't want to feel as if she truly
needed
to be guarded. She wanted to live a normal

life. She didn't want to raise her baby in an atmosphere of fear.

But that was exactly the atmosphere that permeated the house. It was stifling her. She had

to get away, had to remove herself from the haunting fear that, as long as her father was

involved in whatever had given him such a guilty expression, she could be kidnapped again. The

very thought made her want to vomit, and she didn't have just herself to worry about now.

She had her baby to protect.

The fatigue of early pregnancy had gotten her into the habit of sleeping late, but one

morning she woke early, disturbed by a pair of raucous birds fighting for territory in the tree

outside her window. Once she was awake, nausea soon followed, and she made her usual

morning dash to the bathroom. Also as usual, when the bout of morning sickness had passed,

she felt fine. She looked out the window at the bright morning and realized she was inordinately

hungry, the first time in weeks that the idea of food was appealing.

It was barely six o'clock, too early for Adele, the cook, to have arrived. Breakfast was

normally at eight, and she had been sleeping past that. Her stomach growled. She couldn't

wait another two hours for something to eat.

She put on her robe and slippers and quietly left her room; her father's bedroom was at

the top of the stairs, and she didn't want to disturb him. Even more, she didn't want him to

join her for an awkward tete-a-tete. He tried so hard to carry on as if nothing had

happened, and she couldn't respond as she had before.

He should still be asleep, she thought, but when she reached the top of the stairs she

heard him saying something she couldn't understand. She paused, wondering if he'd heard her

after all and had been calling out to her. Then she heard him say
Mack
in a sharp tone, and

she froze.

A chill roughened her entire body, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. The only

Mack she knew was Mack Prewett, but why would her father be talking to him? Mack

Prewett was still stationed in Athens, as far as she knew, and since her father had resigned, he

shouldn't have had any reason to be talking to him.

Then her heart leaped wildly as another possibility occurred to her. Perhaps he had

been saying
Mackenzie
and she'd heard only the first syllable. Maybe he was talking about

Zane. If she listened, she might find out where he was, or at least
how
he was. With no

additional information about his condition, it had been hard to believe Admiral Lindley's

assurance that he would fully recover. Belief required trust, and she no longer trusted the

admiral, or her father.

She crept closer to his door and put her ear against it.

"—finished soon," he was saying sharply, then he was silent for a moment. "I didn't

bargain on this. Barrie wasn't supposed to be involved. Get it wrapped up, Mack."

Barrie closed her eyes in despair. The chill was back, even colder than before. She

shook with it, and swallowed hard against the return of nausea. So he was involved, he and

Mack Prewett both. Mack was CIA. Was he a double agent, and if so, for whom? The world

situation wasn't like it had been back in the old days of the Cold War, when the lines had been

clearly drawn. Nations had died since then, and new ones taken their place. Religion or

money seemed to be the driving force behind most differences these days; how would her

father and Mack Prewett fit into that? What information would her father have that Mack

wouldn't?

The answer eluded her. It could be anything. Her father had friends in every country in

Europe, and any variety of confidential information could come his way. What didn't make

sense was why he would sell that information; he was already a wealthy man. But money, to

some people, was as addictive as a narcotic. No amount was ever enough; they had to have

more, then still more, always looking for the next hit in the form of cash and the power that went

with it.

Could she have been so wrong in her judgment of him? Had she still been looking at him

with a child's eyes, seeing only her father, the man who had been the security in her life,

instead of a man whose ambitions had tainted his honor?

Blindly she stumbled to her bedroom, not caring if he heard her. He must still have

been engrossed in his conversation, though, or she didn't make as much noise as she

thought she had, because his door remained closed.

She curled up on the bed, protectively folding herself around the tiny embryo in her

womb.

What was it he hadn't bargained on? The kidnapping? That was over two months in the

past. Had there been a new threat to use her as a means of ensuring he did something?

She was helplessly fumbling around in the dark with these wild conjectures, and she

hated it. It was like being in alien territory, with no signs to guide her. What was she supposed

to do? Take her suspicions to the FBI? She had nothing concrete to go on, and over the years

her father had made a lot of contacts in the FBI; who could she trust there?

Even more important, if she stayed here, was she in danger? Maybe her wild

conjectures weren't wild at all. She had seen a lot during her father's years in foreign service

and noticed even more when she had started working at the embassy. Things happened,

skulduggery went on, dangerous situations developed. Given the kidnapping, her father's

reaction and now his unreasonable attitude about her safety, she didn't think she could afford

to assume everything would be okay.

She had to leave.

Feverishly she began trying to think of someplace she could go where it wouldn't be