Chosen (Second Sight) (8 page)

“Fine,” Mac said. “Let’s assume she didn’t leave
or
she left but not of her own free will. In either case, we’re going to have a hard time getting a search warrant. The Green Earth Commune is clean from the law enforcement side. I looked into them today.”

“You
did
?” Susan asked.

Mac nodded and Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. He was Special Agent MacMillan, on the case, and it reminded her of when they’d worked together.
 

“But the news is as I suspected. On paper, it’s a non-profit that’s getting along well in the community. There’s no evidence of wrong-doing and only one inquiry has been filed by,” he said, inclining his head at Susan, “parents trying to communicate with their daughter.” He shook his head. “But it’s not a crime to father dozens of children.”

“It’s
disgusting
,” Susan said, her face contorting but no longer panicked. “But, if it’s not illegal and everything looks fine, how can we find Kayla?”

“We have to look for her,” Mac said, as though it were obvious. “
Ourselves
.”

“Can you do that?” Susan asked, her voice tinged with the tiniest amount of hope.

“I’ve already started,” Mac said.

“You have?” Isabelle and Susan said together.

“Based on what Isabelle described yesterday, I was already convinced it was a cult. In and of itself, that’s not necessarily bad
but
when misplaced adoration for a particular person is at work it almost always leads to abuse. Geoffrey sounds like a textbook example. Where abuse of one type is taking place, he’ll be taking advantage in other ways as well. You say the members adopt a minimalist lifestyle once they’re there. Leave their worldly belongings.” Isabelle nodded. “According to the Bureau, the commune receives donations of every type. That’s likely from the members. Even so, from what you describe, it’s an extensive operation. It takes money to do something like that. A
lot
of money. Much more than can be accounted for with donations.”

“So we look for her ourselves,” Isabelle said. “How?”

“We join,” Mac said.

Isabelle stared at him.

“How do you know they’ll take you?” Susan asked. “Won’t they find out you’re an FBI agent?”

“The Cyber Division is setting up a fake identity for me. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, the whole works, including a bank account. The Green Earth Commune recruits online and it turns out that I’ve already downloaded all the brochures and videos after signing up for their mailing list. The Cyber Division was ready to go. All I had to do was give them an excuse.”

“When will you go?” Susan asked, giving them both a questioning gaze.

“First thing tomorrow,” he said.

Until they knew what it meant, Mac had to agree it was probably best to keep the broken frame and photo from Susan. Isabelle had revealed it on the way home. There was no point in upsetting Susan further but finding it in the trash was
not
a good sign.
 

Mac sat at the dining room table and took a good look at the picture, though he didn’t touch it. Daniel had been handsome. Even in the black and white photo, his sandy hair and light eyes stood out. As Mac studied it, he realized he was looking for some resemblance to himself. But there wasn’t any–not that he could see.

Isabelle took a seat in front of the frame and removed one of her gloves. Her normally full lips were drawn into a thin line. As though it were better to have it over sooner rather than later, she quickly inhaled, extended an index finger and touched the frame.

Mac watched as the beautiful, amber eyes unfocused, the pupils dilated, and Isabelle stared blankly into space. Her lips parted ever so slightly and her chest rose and fell faster as she breathed through her mouth. As he watched, Mac realized he’d never been able to observe her so closely. Though it’d only been several seconds, he found himself wanting her to blink. Her eyes had been open for too long.

The broken glass of the frame began to rattle. Just as he looked down, it collapsed backward under the pressure of her touch. The reading was over and Isabelle took her hand back, clutching it to her chest.

“Mac?” she breathed, looking past him.

He waved a hand in front of her face which didn’t faze her.
 

“Right here,” he said quietly.
 

Her eyes turned directly toward him and finally she blinked.

“Kayla didn’t throw it away,” she said, still breathing a little hard.
 

“Who did?”

“Some man I didn’t recognize,” she said. “He only held it briefly.”

“Did you see how or why Kayla left?”

Isabelle’s unseeing gaze shifted down and away as though she were watching something on the floor. She shook her head.

“No,” she said quietly, her eyes moving back in his direction. “For all I know, Kayla simply left it there and someone found it and threw it away.” Isabelle blinked several times and actually focused on the frame, finally seeing again. “But I just don’t think she’d do that. When I read her, there was real grief there. She missed Daniel terribly. He was the father of her child, after all.”

“I agree,” he said, as Isabelle put her glove back on. “But not because I know her. In general, people are not inclined to throw away photos. In fact, they almost
never
do.”

“Really?” she said, standing the frame up again and the photo upright in front of it.

“It’s one of the reasons businesses will pay extra money for a photo business card,” he said.
 

She stared hard at the image and Mac watched her eyes dart between Kayla and Daniel as a little frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.

We need to talk
, Mac thought.
And not about Kayla and Daniel.

“So she didn’t leave it,” Isabelle said. “And she didn’t throw it away. But then, why was it there? Where is Kayla?”

“She’s probably still at the commune,” Mac said.

Isabelle finally looked at him.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

As always, Isabelle’s physical nearness had its effect. He might have looked into those eyes forever. Or taken her in his arms and kissed her. Or held her close and tried to understand what had happened when he’d talked about moving in.

But she was waiting for an answer.

“The simples scenario wins,” he said. “First, she’s in no condition to travel. Second, cults don’t survive by having their members leave. Third, this particular cult seems to be fond of children–and maybe not just Geoffrey’s.”

“Saving the world, one child at a time,” she said lowly.

“Not only that,” Mac said. “But based on the membership information the Bureau gathered, when men join, it’s usually with their wives or girlfriends and they’re either pregnant or get pregnant soon thereafter.”

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“Kayla is a prime example.”

Isabelle paused for a second and glanced at the picture frame.

“I guess she is,” she whispered.

Based on the Bureau’s demographic, he and Isabelle needed to get their story straight. Though Mac had had enough of talking about the commune, they needed to be ready.

“Are we hoping for a boy or a girl?” Mac said.
 

Her eyes snapped back to his face.

“Are
we
…” she said, searching his eyes.

“Hoping for a boy or girl,” he said.

“I don’t…know,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “We need to be prepared. They’ll expect us to–”

“Oh,” she exhaled. “Oh okay. Right.”
 

She nodded quickly, stared at the table, and her face began to turn red.

Inwardly, Mac kicked himself.
 

A little explanation would have been nice
.
 

Last night, he’d sprung the transfer on her and then moving in. Now, without warning, it must have seemed as though he’d started ‘the pregnancy discussion.’

Good work.

He reached across the table and took Isabelle’s hand in his. She refused to look up but her hand squeezed his–
hard
. Several moments went by. For once, he wished he had her gift. Sometimes Isabelle was an open book–so easy to read it almost hurt. Other times, times like these, he had no idea what was going on in her head. He hadn’t meant to start talking about children but that was obviously what she’d thought. Even so, they did need to get their story straight.

“A girl,” he said quietly, a little surprised at how easy it was to say. Then again, the choice was obvious. “She’d be adorable, just like her mother.”
 

One corner of Isabelle’s mouth crooked up into a little smile but she didn’t look up and her face seemed to flush another shade darker.
 

Though he’d intended to segue into a discussion of what they’d say tomorrow, the moment had taken on a completely different quality. They weren’t ready for kids. They didn’t even live together. But now, whether he’d meant it or not, the possibility of being pregnant hung in the air between them.
 

In his life, he’d never seriously considered it.

Had Isabelle?

He wanted to see her face. Slowly, still holding her hand, he stood and drew her up as well. Her eyes were still downcast and, gently, he lifted her chin. Her eyes could barely meet his, looking one way and then another, as she bit her lower lip. Mac lightly smoothed his thumb over both her lips and the lower one popped free when she realized what she was doing. She tried to look down again but Mac wouldn’t let her.

“Of course,” Mac said, waiting for her to look at him, “I’d spoil a little girl terribly. First, I’d get her a bib.” Isabelle stared at his mouth and seemed to be hanging on every word. He was straying into dangerous territory and yet he didn’t seem able to stop himself. “It’ll be one of those bibs that says ‘Future FBI Agent’ on it. In big yellow letters. Or
pink
,” he quickly corrected. At that, Isabelle smiled just a tiny bit and he found that he was grinning. He slid his arms around her and felt her hands on his waist. That felt
good
. “Or maybe a pink bib,” he said, pulling her closer. “With big yellow letters. Or black. Or…”
 

He watched Isabelle’s nose crinkle as she quietly giggled.
 

He didn’t have to
imagine
adorable.

And yet somehow, Isabelle’s little girl gesture made him do exactly that. His mind flashed forward to a time when this might be more than just talk. But as Isabelle’s arms held him tighter and their bodies slowly connected, he focused on the beautiful curve of her smiling lips and then he gently touched them with his own.

• • • • •

Though Isabelle’s lips automatically clung to his, her mind was reeling.

He’s not serious
.
Just the idea of a baby was completely overwhelming.

Mac nibbled her lower lip.

But somehow hearing him talk about it, even though it was pretend, was so…
sexy
.
 

It was disarming, even scary, but in some way she didn’t understand, it was definitely sexy.

Mac’s hands were at her back, taking down the zipper of her dress.

She’d never been with a man with whom the possibility of children was even remotely real. She’d never been in a relationship that had come close to lasting long enough.

He lifted the dress off over her head and she realized that Mac was walking backward, moving them toward the bedroom.

Is Mac that man?

His smile had faded, his eyes devouring her from head to foot as he took off his tie.

She started to unbutton his shirt.

The buttons were a little slippery under her gloves but it was too soon to take them off. She worked carefully and, after a few seconds, the hard curves of his pecs and the shadowed dip between them appeared. Though she stared, her hands quickly moved to unbutton the rest. The corrugated leanness of his abs stood out and she could see the neat seam of dark hair that ran down their middle. She pressed her hands to his muscled chest and smoothed them outward to his rounded shoulders. The shirt and the coat road with her hands and she shoved all the fabric over his shoulders and let gravity take care of the rest.
 

Mac’s entire upper body was visible and Isabelle had to take a deep breath.

He was gorgeous. His body was always so hidden, despite the tailored suit. His wonderfully broad chest tapered sharply down to a waist that was so trim it was corded. His mounded pecs were dusted with a light coat of hair and his arms…

“Have you been working out?” Isabelle whispered.

He shrugged. And whether he’d meant to flex for her or not didn’t matter. His shoulders and chest rippled beneath the taut surface of his skin and a familiar warmth began to blossom between her thighs.

As with the shirt and coat, Isabelle only unbuckled the belt and unzipped the pants. Then she dug her fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pants and tugged down–but only a few inches.

The briefs were caught.

Mac’s bulging arousal swelled just under the elastic band. Isabelle grasped the top of the briefs in both hands, brought it toward her, and slowly began to lower it. But, as she did, she sawed it lightly back and forth, across the sinewy length of him. Mac sucked in a quick breath. She took her time, moving the briefs lower, and watching his rigid shaft emerge until it was finally free.

She ran her hands down inside the briefs but before she moved them lower, she briefly cupped him. Mac had clearly not expected that. His hips pulsed forward, his buttocks tight, and a shuddering breath escaped him. Her heart raced in response and her breaths came shallow and fast.

Finally, she pulled the briefs, belt, and pants down together, letting them fall once they were past his massive thighs. He stepped out of the shoes and pulled off his socks–his every movement like an exhibition. Powerful muscles flexed beneath the warm, bare skin. The angled planes of his back, the thick slabs of his chest, and especially his tight abdomen seemed to be in constant movement. Every inch of him exuded masculinity.