"What the hell is going on? This is my sister's house and I want to see her. Has something happened to her? I'm her— What the hell?" The exclamation was startled out of him as Mac's left hand closed on his shoulder, spinning him around to meet the hard knuckles of his right fist.
The force of the blow knocked him into the wall. Mac reached for him again but Ken was there first, standing between his partner and the other man. "Cool off, Mac. Punching her brother isn't going to do Holly any good."
Mac glared at him for a long moment, his blue eyes brilliant with rage and fear. Ken met his gaze calmly, aware of James Reynolds getting to his feet behind him. With a visible effort Mac bridled his anger, banking the fires in his eyes and forcing his strained control into place.
"Where's my sister?" James's words were muffled by the hand at his injured lower lip. Mac's eyes flickered over Ken's shoulder, still holding a smoldering hostility.
"It's okay, Dick. This really is my brother-in-law." The agent nodded and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.
Mac strode back into the living room and went straight to the bar, pouring himself a short Scotch, a very short Scotch. He wasn't looking to get drunk, just to give his hands something to do other than beat James Reynolds to a pulp.
"Where's Holly?" The words were a bit clearer this time, and Mac turned as James and Ken entered the living room. He leaned back against the bar, his hand tightening around the squat glass and his eyes skimming over the other man.
There was a definite resemblance between Holly and her brother. They shared the same dark eyes and hair. Holly's soft features appeared in a more masculine version in her brother, but the resemblance was marked.
Those eyes were now dark with hostility and concern as he stared at Mac's lounging figure. "Where's my sister?"
"Funny, that's just the question we've been asking about you for the last two months. You did a good job of dropping out of sight, Reynolds. If you hadn't been so damn good at it, Holly might be here to greet you right now."
"We? Who's we? And what's happened to Holly?"
Ken's eyes skipped between the two men. Mac's reclining position didn't fool him. His partner was about as relaxed as a cobra ready to strike. And Reynolds looked as if he was just about angry enough to start throwing punches himself. All Mac's iron control had disappeared when his wife was kidnapped. It was like being around a stick of dynamite with a faulty fuse; you couldn't tell just when he was going to blow up, but the explosion was inevitable.
"Sit down, Reynolds. I'm Ken Richardson and this is Mac Donahue. We're the FBI."
James ignored the invitation and remained standing, his angry gaze locked on his brother-in-law. "FBI? Why didn't Holly tell me?"
"Out of loyalty to me," Mac told him shortly, his voice rough as he remembered how she had agonized over that decision.
"Loyalty or sheer terror?" James rubbed his swelling jaw.
"Loyalty. And for what it's worth, she never gave me any information about you, either. It was her misguided attempt to protect you."
"Protect me from what? You? Why would you be after me?"
"Spare me the protestations of innocence, Reynolds. We've been watching you for months now and we know all about the art thefts. Holly swore you'd never be involved in them, but your recent disappearance makes that a little hard to buy."
"I wasn't involved in the thefts. I was trying to get information on them. My boss is in on it and I stumbled onto the whole thing."
"If that's true, why didn't you go to the authorities with what you suspected?"
"He's my boss. He's got a lot of years in with the diplomatic corps. Nobody was going to take my word for it. I had to get some proof. And I've got it. That's why I'm back in the States—to turn the evidence over to the authorities. Now, is somebody going to tell me where Holly is?"
"While you were out playing at cops and robbers, the men you were spying on kidnapped her."
James paled. "Kidnapped? Holly? Why?"
"Because her brother was causing them problems and this seemed like a good way to draw him out of the woodwork."
Stung by the accusation implicit in the words, James struck back. "I suppose it had nothing to do with the fact that her husband is a fed?"
"Cool down, both of you." Ken's tone was wearily disgusted. "None of this is helping any. What we need to do is put our heads together and pool information."
Mac shook his head tiredly, the aggression draining out of him. "You're right. I'm not thinking too clearly right now. Tell us what you know, Reynolds."
❧
Holly paced restlessly across the room. Ten paces to the wall with the faded wallpaper and then ten paces back to the wall with the bathroom door. Her hands rested protectively on the swollen mound of her baby, and her lips moved in silent prayer.
It was almost dawn. Less than forty-eight hours ago she had been contemplating nothing more frightening than the birth of her child. Now she was wondering if she was going to live to see that birth.
I must stop it! They haven't hurt me yet. I've got to think positively. Mac will find me. He'd never let them hurt me. The mental pep talk broke off on a stifled gasp as pain rippled through her abdomen. It faded briefly but it left her with renewed fear. It was probably just false labor, she told herself. She'd certainly been through enough to bring it on. But something told her that this was the real thing, and she had to struggle with the hysterics that threatened to break free.
Mac. She had to concentrate on Mac. Smith had told her that he was going to meet with Mac today. She could be free by nightfall. She patted her stomach soothingly. "Hang on, little one. Just hang on. Daddy's going to get us out."
Outside, the sun struggled to come up, hampered by thick gray clouds that promised rain. Holly barely glanced out the window as early-morning blackness gave way to dim illumination. She had already explored all the possibilities offered by the window. As Smith had promised her when he showed her this room, there was no way out unless she grew wings. They were four stories up over an alley. Holly was thankful that they had given her a room and even a bathroom of her own. At least she'd had some privacy.
With the pain gone, she resumed her pacing, her mind skipping wildly from thought to thought. James, Mac, her family. They all flitted through her mind. Where was James? What was Mac doing to find him? What if he couldn't find him? What if—
Her frantic thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping. She turned to the door, feeling her pulse accelerate. So far, Smith had offered her no harm, but what if he changed his mind now? She waited for the door to open, but the tapping sound was repeated. She took a step toward the door, cocking her head. There it was again, but it wasn't at the door.
She turned as quickly as her ungainly figure would allow. Her breath caught, and for a moment she was afraid her heart would stop. A dark shape hung outside the window, a black silhouette against the still-dim morning light. Wild thoughts of vampires, burglars and crazed killers flitted through her mind. Before fear could drive out rational thought, the tapping was repeated, and this time she could make out a human hand against the window.
Hesitantly she approached the window, squinting to try to make out something of the dark figure. His hand came up and tugged a dark cap off his head. The gray light caught in sandy hair and Holly gave a sob of relief, her footsteps hurrying across the short distance to the window. Ken! Oh Lord, it was Ken!
She released the catch on the window and tugged at the edge of the aluminum frame. It refused to budge, and tears filled her eyes. To be so close and have a damn window keep her trapped. Ken held up his hand, motioning her to stay calm. He waved one arm in a wide circle and a moment later the grinding sound of a garbage truck began in the alley below.
Holly caught the white gleam of his smile as he pulled a hammer out of the belt at his waist. She shook her head in a frantic no, but he held up his hand in a gesture of reassurance. Instead of shattering the glass, he began to tap lightly at the edges of the fram
e, breaking loose the accumulated grime of several years.
The truck continued to grind away in the alley, masking any noise Ken might have made. Holly held her breath, letting it out on a gasp as another pain rippled across her abdomen. Please don't let Smith decide to check on me. She muttered the prayer over and over again. Suspended outside the window as he was, Ken would be a totally vulnerable target.
Ken tucked the hammer back into his belt and gestured to her to try the window again. Holly straightened as the contraction faded, and she reached for the window, barely breathing as she tugged at the frame. For a moment it stubbornly refused to budge and then it let loose with a speed that almost knocked her over.
"Step back."
She hurriedly moved away from the window and Ken swung his feet through the opening, slipping out of the harness that had supported him, and landed lightly on the floor.
"Ken!" The name was a breathless gasp. He put his arms around her, hugging her briefly.
"It's okay, Lady. Are you all right?"
She nodded against his shoulder, clinging to him. He put his hands on her arms, holding her away. "We're going to get you out of here. Mac is on the roof, and as soon as we get you into a sling, he's going to pull you up. Trust us?"
"Of course," she answered without hesitation. If he had told her that they were going to put a rocket on her back and shoot her out of her prison, she would have uttered not a word of protest. If Mac thought it was okay, she would go along with it.
"I'm going to lift the window out of the frame so there's room to accommodate you and then we'll get you settled in one of the slings. It's going to be just like sitting on a swing, Lady. You'll be perfectly safe. Mac is waiting for you on the roof." He was working as he spoke, using the hammer, which she could now see was rubber-tipped, to break the frame loose. He then lifted it out and put it on the floor just inside the window.
He leaned out the window to snag a sling and pulled it in before turning to look at her. "Ready?"
Holly swallowed hard and nodded. She'd walk across hot coals without a qualm if it meant getting to Mac.
Mac lay flat on the roof, his head sticking out over the edge as he looked down the side of the building. Ken swung suspended at the end of the rope, looking amazingly fragile. Below him, the garbage truck was grinding endless mounds of trash into a pulp, the noise successfully obliterating all other sounds. The captors hadn't had the apartment long; chances were they had no way of knowing when regular trash pickup was.
Mac's throat tightened as Ken disappeared inside the window and the rope went slack. He found himself murmuring childhood prayers he had thought forgotten long ago. It seemed like forever before Ken leaned out the window again and signaled for Mac to take up the slack in the rope. Mac got to his feet and picked the rope up in his gloved hands. Behind him, three other men followed his lead, lifting the rope and bracing themselves to pull.
Once they had located Smith's hiding place, there hadn't been time to set up anything more elaborate. No fancy high-tech rescues, just plain old muscle power. Mac pulled gently until he felt weight on the end of the rope. His shoulders bunched beneath the black turtleneck he wore as he took the weight of Holly and Ken. Behind him, the other agents added their strength.
Sweat beaded on Mac's forehead. In his mind's eye, he could picture what was happening over the side of the building. Ken was in one sling and Holly in another, Ken supporting her against his side as he used his feet and arms to keep them both away from the building. Mac cursed his inability to be the one at the end of the rope. His smaller size had made Ken the only practical choice. Mac's strength could be put to better use just where he was, but that didn't stop him from wanting to be the one sheltering his wife now.
He kept up the steady pull, with first one hand and then the other. With every foot of rope that coiled behind him,
Holly was that much closer, that much nearer to safety. Please, God, let her be all right.
Ken's gloved hand clamped on to the edge of the roof, and Mac walked hand over hand along the rope until he knelt at the edge of the roof. Behind him, the other men took up the slack on the rope as he released it, one of them coming forward to brace Mac as he reached over to grasp Holly beneath the arms, lifting her to safety.
Holly felt Mac's strong arms close around her, pulling her back from the edge of the roof. Her hands clutched at him, her fingers digging into the thick knit of his sweater as she pulled him still closer, burying her face in his shoulder.
"Holly. Holly. Holly." He kept repeating her name, his head bent over her as he held her. After a long moment his hands came up to cup her head, tilting her face up until he could see her eyes. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, sniffing back tears of relief. "I'm all right."
"There was blood all over the bed." He ran his hands lightly over her body, seeking some sign of injury.
"It wasn't mine. I hit one of them over the head with a lamp. Oh, Mac, I'm so glad to see you."
He gave a shaky laugh. "The feeling is mutual, believe me. I've never been so frightened in my life. If anything had happened to you..."
"Nothing happened. They didn't hurt me at all. They're looking for James."
"I know. James is okay. He showed up at the house yesterday. You were right. He wasn't involved in the thefts."
"Thank goodness. How did you know where I was?"
"It's a long story. Let's get off this roof and then we can talk. What's wrong?" Her fingers suddenly dug into his arm, her face paling.
"I...think. ..you're...about. ..to.. .become. ..a... father," she got out between shallow breaths.
"Holly! Ken, tell them we need the ambulance. Holly's in labor."
He scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her murmured protest. "Mac, I'm too heavy for you to carry. I can walk. Besides, the contractions are still quite a ways apart. There's no need to panic."
She might as well have saved her breath. Ken ran ahead of them as Mac carried her carefully down the stairs, then climbed into the waiting ambulance with her. After taking one look at his determined face, the attendants decided not to argue with him.
Michael Kenneth Donahue came into the world some three hours later, squalling a loud protest that brought a satisfied smile to the doctor's face. Holly held up bravely throughout the labor, bolstered by Mac's huge presence. Mac's fears of disgracing himself by fainting proved to be unfounded. The only sign of nerves was the faint tremor in his hands when the doctor handed the baby to him and he laid his son on Holly's suddenly flatter stomach.
Holly touched her fingers lightly to the thick mop of dark hair that covered the baby's head and then looked up at Mac, her eyes brimming with tears. His fingers closed around her free hand, while the other touched the baby's tiny back, uniting them in a complete circle of love.
Chapter 17
"You're such a good little boy. I just don't know what I ever did to deserve a baby as sweet as you."
"You married me."
Holly straightened up and turned away from the crib, frowning at Mac. "You scared me out of six years' growth," she scolded lightly. "What if I'd been holding the baby? I might have dropped him on his head. When did you get home?"
Mac grinned and crossed the room to drop a kiss on her nose before leaning over the crib to admire his son. "A few minutes ago. Anyway, I waited until you'd put him down. Is it going to create some hideous trauma if I pick him up again?"
Holly pretended to consider the matter before giving in with a laugh. "I suppose not. Just don't get him too excited or I'll never get him to sleep."
As always, she found herself entranced by the contrast of Mac's broad hands against Michael's tiny frame. He picked the baby up gently, supporting his head with one palm before cradling him in his arms.
"He looks as if he's grown another inch since this morning."
"Not quite, but my mother swears he's going to be at least as big as his father. She claims she can tell by his feet."
Mac looked u
p from the baby, his eyes bright with amusement. "His feet? You mean like a puppy?"
Holly nodded solemnly. "She says you can always tell that way."
Michael blinked up at his father. At six weeks his eyes were beginning to darken and show signs of matching the brilliant blue of Mac's. With his dark hair and those eyes, there was no doubt about whose child he was. Watching the two of them now, Holly had to blink back tears. Mac was such a good father.
He ran his finger gently over the baby's soft cheek, murmuring nonsense words to him for a few minutes before replacing him carefully in the crib and arranging the blanket just so. He ignored the fact that in a matter of minutes, Michael would kick it off.
Did he ever think about the son he'd never know? Holly wondered. Did he look at Michael and wonder what the other boy had looked like as a baby, what he was like now, where he was and what he was doing?
Mac looked up, his brows coming together when he saw the tears in her eyes. "Hey, what's the matter?" He hooked his hand behind her neck to pull her close, his thumb brushing a lone tear from her cheek. "What's this?"
She shook her head. "I was just being silly."
"You're always silly," he teased softly. "But you don't always cry. What's wrong?"
She hesitated, her eyes searching his. He had told her about the other child, but he had never again mentioned him. Was she treading on thin ice by bringing him up?
"I was just thinking about the other boy." His fingers tensed against the back of her neck and his lashes fell, shielding his eyes, but she had come too far to back out. She drew a deep breath and went on. "Do you think about him when you look at Michael?"
There was a tense moment of silence, and then he shook his head. "No, not really. Once in a while I wonder what he looked like at Michael's age, but I've come to terms with the fact that things can't be changed."
He shook his head, dispelling the faintly melancholy atmosphere. "Come on, I've got champagne in the fridge and I brought dinner home." His arm slid around her back and urged her out of the room.
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