Mackenzie's Pleasure (21 page)

edge, he could. She was carrying his child, and evidently that possibility was what had brought him

to Virginia in search of her. He was a man who took his responsibilities seriously. She would

have preferred that he cared for her as deeply as she did for him, but she would take what she

could get. She knew he was attracted to her; if he wasn't, she wouldn't be pregnant.

She would marry him, and perhaps with time he would come to love her.

Her father flinched at her answer. Half turning to her, he said imploringly, "Baby, you

don't want to marry someone like him. You've always had the best, and he can't give it to

you."

Squaring her shoulders, she said, "I'm going to marry him—as soon as possible."

Seeing the intractability in her expression, her father looked at Zane. "You won't get a

penny of her inheritance," he said with real venom.

"Dad!" she cried, shocked. She had her own money, inheritances from her mother and

grandparents, so she wasn't worried about being destitute even if he carried through on his

threat; it was the fact that he'd made the threat at all, that he would try to sabotage her future with

Zane in such a blatant, hurtful manner, that hurt.

Zane shrugged. "Fine," he said with deceptive mildness. Barrie heard the pure iron

underlying the calm, even tone. "Do what you want with your money, I don't give a damn. But

you're a fool if you thought you could keep her with you for the rest of your life. You can act like an

ass and cheat yourself out of your grandchildren if you want, but nothing you say is going to

change a damn thing."

Lovejoy hung there, his face drawn with pain. Anguish darkened his eyes as he looked at

his daughter. "Don't do it," he pleaded, his voice shaking.

Now it was her turn to wince, because in spite of everything, she hated to hurt him.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, straightening her shoulders against any other hurtful thing he

might say. "And we're getting married."

He swayed on his feet, stunned by her announcement. She hadn't thought it possible he

could turn any whiter, but he did. "What?" he croaked. "But—but you said you weren't

raped!"

"She wasn't," Zane said. There was a soft, drawling, very masculine undertone in his

voice.

Their eyes met. Barrie gave him a soft, wry smile. "I wasn't," she verified, and despite

everything, a sudden, subtle glow lit her face.

Her father couldn't think of anything else to say. He gaped at them for a moment,

unable to handle this turn of events. Then a red tide of anger ran up his face, chasing away the

pallor. "You bastard!" he choked out. "You took advantage of her when she was vulnerable— "

Barrie grabbed his arm and jerked him around. "Stop it!" she yelled, her slender body

tense with fury. Her nerves had been shredded since that morning, and this confrontation

was only making them worse. Zane's sudden appearance, though it made her almost giddy with

happiness, was another shock to her system, and she'd had enough. "If anyone took advantage,
I

did. If you want the details I'll give them to you, but I don't think you really want to know!"

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he'd thought he could keep her a virgin

forever, but she bit the bitter words off unspoken. That would be too hurtful, and once said,

she would never be able to take the words back. He loved her, perhaps too much; his fear of losing her

was why he was lashing out. And, despite everything, she loved him, too. Pain congealed inside her

as she stared starkly at him, all pretense gone. "I know," she whispered. "Do you understand? I

know.
I know why you've been so paranoid every time I've left the house.
I
have to leave.
"

He inhaled sharply
,
shock ripping away his last vestige of control. He couldn't sustain her

burning gaze, and he looked away. "Keep her safe," he said to Zane in a stifled voice, then

walked stiffly toward his study.

"I intend to." That difficulty solved, he spared no more than a glance for his departing

foe. His gaze switched to Barrie, and a slow, heart-stopping smile touched his lips. "Go get

packed," be said.

They were on their way within the hour.

She hurried up to her bedroom and filled her suitcases, bypassing the evening gowns and

designer suits in favor of more practical clothing. The ankle-length cotton skirt she was already

wearing was comfortable enough for travel; she pulled on a silk shirt over the sleeveless blouse she

wore and let it go at that. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to hurry.

She dragged the bags to the top of the stairs. It didn't require a lot of effort, they all had

wheeled bottoms, but when Zane saw her, he left his post by the door and took the stairs

two at a time. "Don't lift those," he ordered, taking the bags from her hands. "You should have

called me."

His tone was the same one he had used in commanding his men, but Barrie was too nervous

to fight that battle with him right now. He lifted all three cases with an ease that made her blink and

started down the stairs with them. She rushed after him. "Where are we going? Are we flying or

driving?"

"Las Vegas. Flying."

"You already have the tickets?" she asked in surprise.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her, the dark wings of his eyebrows lifting

fractionally. "Of course," he said, and resumed his trip down the stairs.

Such certainty and self-assurance were daunting. Briefly she wondered what on earth she

was getting herself into. More and more she was becoming aware of just how much in control Zane

Mackenzie was, of himself and everything around him. She might never be able to break

through that barrier.
Except in bed.
The memory zinged through her, bringing a flush to her cheeks

that wasn't caused by rushing around. He had lost control there, and it had been... breathtaking.

"What time is the flight?" Once more she hurried to catch up to him. "Will we have

time to go to my bank? I need to close out my accounts—"

"You can transfer them to a local bank when we get home."

While he carried her bags out to the rental car he was driving, Barrie went to the study

and knocked softly on the door. There was no answer; after a moment she opened the door

anyway. Her father was sitting at the desk, his elbows propped on top of it and his face buried in his

hands.

"Bye, Dad," she said softly.

He didn't answer, but she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"I'll let you know where I am."

"No," he said, his voice strangled. "Don't." He lifted his head. His eyes were anguished.

"Not yet. Wait... wait a while."

"All right," she whispered, understanding slicing through her. It was safer for her that

way. He must suspect the phone line was tapped.

"Baby, I—" He broke off and swallowed hard again. "I only want you to be happy—

and safe."

"I know." She felt dampness on her cheeks and wiped away the tears that were wetting

them.

"He isn't the kind of man I wanted for you. The SEALs are—well, never mind." He

sighed. "Maybe he
can
keep you safe. I hope so. I love you, baby. You've been the center of

my life. You know I never meant—" He halted, unable to go on.

"I know," she said again. "I love you, too."

She quietly closed the door and stood with her head bowed. She didn't hear him

approach, but suddenly Zane was there, his arm hard around her waist as he drew her with

him out to the car. He didn't ask any questions, just opened the door for her and helped her

inside, then closed the door with a finality that was unmistakable.

She sat tensely during the drive to the airport, watching the traffic buzz around them.

"This is the most privacy we'll have for a while," Zane said as he competently threaded the

car through the insanity of rush hour. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?" He had

slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and his eyes were hidden from her view, but she didn't have to

see them to know how cool and remote the expression in them was.

She lifted her chin and stared straight ahead, considering the way his suggestions

sounded like orders. This wasn't going to be easy, but he had to know everything. She

needed his protection, at least while she still carried his child. He wouldn't be on guard

unless he knew there was a threat. She had to be honest with him. "I want you to know—

one of the reasons I agreed to marry you is that I need protection, and you're a SEAL. If

anything... dangerous... happens, you'll know how to handle it."

"Dangerous, how?" He sounded very matter-of-fact, almost disinterested. She

supposed that, given his job, danger was so common to him that it was more the rule than the

exception.

"I think the kidnappers may try again. And now I have more than just myself to worry

about." Briefly, unconsciously, her hand moved to her lower belly in the instinctive way a

pregnant woman touched the growing child within, as if reassuring it of its safety.

He glanced in the rearview mirror, calmly studying the traffic behind and around them.

After a moment of consideration, he went straight to the heart of the matter. "Have you

notified the FBI? The police?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I think Dad may be involved," she said, almost strangling on the words.

Once again he checked the rearview mirror. "In what way?"

He sounded so damn remote. She clenched her hands into fists, determined to hold on to

her control. If he could be self-contained, then so could she. She forced her voice to evenness.

"The reason for the kidnapping wasn't ransom, so they must want information from him. I

can't think of anything else it
could
be."

He was silent for a moment, deftly weaving in and out of the tangle of vehicles. She

could almost hear that cool, logical brain sorting through the ramifications. Finally he said,

"Your father must be in it up to his neck, or he'd have gone to the FBI himself. You would

have been taken to a safe place and surrounded by a wall of agents."

He'd reached exactly the same conclusion she had. That didn't make her feel any better.

"Since we've been back in Vkginia, he's been impossible. He doesn't want me to leave the

house by myself, and he's monitoring all telephone calls. He was always protective, but not like

this. At first I thought he was overreacting because of what happened in Athens, but when I

thought it through, I realized the threat still existed." She swallowed. "I'd made up my mind to

sneak out tonight and disappear for a while."

If Zane had waited another day, she would have been gone. He wouldn't have had any

idea where to find her, and she had no way of contacting him. Tears burned her eyes at the

thought. Dear God, it had been so close.

"Hold on," he said, then jerked the steering wheel to the right, cutting across a lane of

traffic and throwing the car into a sharp turn into another street. The tires squealed, and

horns blared. Even with his warning, she barely had time to brace herself, and the seat belt

tightened with a jerk.

"What's wrong?" she cried, struggling to right herself and ease the strangling grip of

the seat belt.

"There's a possibility we had company. I didn't want to take any chances."

Alarmed, Barrie twisted around in the seat, staring at the cars passing through the

intersection behind them, vainly trying to see anyone who looked familiar or any vehicle

making an obvious effort to cut across traffic and follow them. The traffic pattern looked

normal.

"Two Caucasian men, in their thirties or forties, both wearing sunglasses," Zane said

with no more emphasis than if he'd been observing the clouds in the sky. She remembered

this almost supernatural calmness from before. In Benghazi, the more tense the situation, the

cooler he had become, totally devoid of emotion. For him to take the action he had, he'd been

certain they were being followed. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and she fought a

sudden rise of nausea. To suspect she was in danger was one thing, having it confirmed was

something else entirely.

Then what he'd said registered in her brain. "Caucasian?" she echoed. "But—" She

stopped, because of course it made sense. While she had subconsciously been looking for

Libyans, she had to remember that this Gordian knot of intrigue involved both Libyans and

Mack Prewett's cohorts; given his resources, she had to be suspicious of everyone, not just

Middle Easterners. Black, white or Oriental, she couldn't trust anyone—except Zane.

"Since they know what I'm driving, we're going to ditch the car." Zane took another

turn, this time without the dramatics, but also without signaling or slowing down more than was

necessary. "I'll make a phone call and have the car taken care of. We'll get a ride to the

airport."

She didn't ask who he would call; the area was crawling with military personnel from all

the branches of service. Someone in dress whites would collect the car and return it to the

rental company, and that would be that. By then, she and Zane would be on their way to Las

Vegas.

"They'll be able to find me anyway," she said suddenly, thinking of the airline ticket in