Dangerous Waters (8 page)

*****

Megan woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. She showered and dressed in blue jeans and a white cotton sweater, then used the excuse of braiding her hair to dawdle.

But the moment couldn't be put off. She went quietly down the narrow stairs, but was unsurprised when, without even turning his head, Mac said, "Do you drink your coffee black?" He stood in front of the stove, spatula in hand.

"No, I like the works." She accepted the proffered mug and made a production of stirring in sugar and powdered cream, looking over the kitchen. The shattered glass had been swept up and a piece of plywood covered the broken window. She could almost—but not quite—forget last night. "How's Zachary?"

Mac took some eggs out of the fridge. "Limping. Maybe he should see the vet."

Irrelevantly, she asked, "Where did you find the bacon?"

"I jogged down to that little store."

"Zachary'd like the grease on his breakfast."

Mac flashed her a rueful grin that weakened her defenses. "I couldn't find his breakfast. He's annoyed at me."

The big retriever flopped his tail from where he lay with his chin resting on his empty bowl.

Her own mouth curved into a smile. "He does look hopeful. Believe it or not, his food's in the hall closet. I buy it in such big bags, that's the only place it would fit."

Prying the bowl from under Zachary's chin, she filled it and Mac poured hot grease over the brown nuggets. When Megan plopped it back on the floor in front of the dog, he dove right in.

Behind her, Mac asked, "Scrambled or over easy?"

"Have you ever heard of cholesterol?"

When she turned around, the smile was gone from his mouth. "Lately I haven't worried too much about turning sixty. The day I relax, I'll cut down on cholesterol."

Her gaze lowered involuntarily to the front of his black sweatshirt where it covered that long red scar. She knew his head must still ache, too. How could she argue?

"Scrambled," she said.

They talked about total trivialities during breakfast. What vet she took Zachary to. Who to call to replace the windowpane. Where she normally grocery-shopped.

Megan wasn't really hungry, but she ate anyway. She didn't let herself meet Mac's gaze until she pushed her empty plate away.

Then she said flatly, "Are you going to call the police?"

"I don't know." For the first time Megan noticed the signs of weariness on his face. The grooves in his cheeks were carved more deeply, and the fan of lines beside his eyes showed his age in a way they hadn't before. "That depends on you."

"I'll move home with my parents," she said. "They've already offered me my old bedroom."

She didn't like the idea, but she knew after last night that she wouldn't feel safe alone. And what was the alternative? Letting Mac stay to protect her? He scared her more than the phantom enemy did. He was still a stranger and always would be, because his outlook was so different from hers. How could she, who so valued home and a town where she knew everyone, be attracted to a man who could walk away anytime? She couldn't decide whether he was so sure of himself, he didn't need others to define him, or whether he was soulless, a stranger even to himself. But the answer didn't matter. The problem did. She was desperately attracted to a man without roots, one who would not understand her need for her own.

But he was shaking his head. "That's not good enough. Damn it, Megan. Look how fast they hunted you down. They must have discovered they'd failed almost immediately."

"The newspaper article..."

"Can't have hit the big papers yet. Face it. They must have hung around, waited just to be sure. They're professionals. Either that..." he leaned forward as if to emphasize his point, "or else they're locals. People who already knew you. Either way," he shook his head, "failing once won't stop them."

In agitation Megan set down her coffee cup. "It's you they want, not me. Maybe they knew you were here last night. Did you ever think of that?"

"Of course I thought of that!" he snapped. "But I called my partner this morning and he tells me word on the street is that Saldivar is still looking for me. He's mad as hell. There should be some hint that he found me. I can't believe it's him. And that leaves an open field."

"I'll be safe with my parents," Megan said stubbornly. "I promise I'll be careful not to be by myself. You can forget about me. Just...just do whatever you have to."

Maddeningly, he shook his head again. "Somebody who would murder you in cold blood isn't going to stop at adding other victims. You'd be endangering them. Do you want to take that kind of chance?"

Megan stood up abruptly and pushed her chair aside. "This is crazy! Why am I listening to you?"

"Because somebody broke into your house last night. You're smart enough not to buy that kind of coincidence."

Her fingers closed painfully on the back of the chair. "We have burglars just like anyplace else, you know. Maybe the police could find fingerprints or something if you'd let me call them. Or are you afraid they'll punch holes in your story?" she challenged.

Really smart, Megan, she thought. If the guy's a pathological liar, did she want to back him into a corner?

His eyes narrowed and a muscle spasmed in his jaw, but no other reaction showed. "All right," he said at last. "If that's what it'll take to make you take this seriously, we'll call them."

"Good," she said boldly. "Do you want me to do it?"

His tone was dry. "Why not? You probably know everyone on the force."

She dialed quickly, her back to Mac but conscious of his gaze on her. She asked for Pete Tevis. When he came on the line, Megan told him about the attempted break-in.

He didn't waste any time on sympathy. "I'll be right over."

Mac stood up. "Do you mind if I take a quick shower?"

"No, of course not. There's shampoo and everything. Help yourself."

To keep herself busy, Megan cleared the table and washed the dishes. All the while she pictured the man upstairs in her shower. Naked, water sluicing down his lean body. His wet hair darker, plastered to his head. When the shower stopped, she imagined him stepping out, scrubbing his hair with the towel, wrapping it around his waist. Drops of water beaded on his tanned skin, muscles rippling as he moved.

"Don't be an idiot," Megan said aloud, hooking the damp dish towel over the refrigerator-door handle. As her father had commented once about a boy she had a crush on, "He puts his pants on one leg at a time." At the time she had daringly retorted, "Yeah, but once they're on he looks better in them than anybody else does." Mac did, too. What other man was sexy in a pair of sacky sweats?

Mac timed it perfectly, coming down the stairs just as Pete Tevis knocked on Megan's front door. At the sight of Mac, something tightened in her stomach. Damn it, it just wasn't fair! No one man should have cheekbones like that and shoulders wide enough to shelter a woman and cool gray eyes that could see right through her. She had a lump in her throat when she opened the door.

Pete's gaze immediately went past her to the man who'd obviously just showered and was coming from the cottage's only bedroom. It hadn't occurred to Megan how that might look.

"Megan," The deputy sheriff nodded. "Mr. McKenzie."

Oh, boy. She'd forgotten the name thing. Would Mac expect her to lie for him? How much did he intend to tell Pete?

His expression was impassive, but he pulled his badge out of his back pocket and flipped it open. "Actually, it's McClain. James McClain."

"You don't say." Pete Tevis took the badge, sounding no more surprised than Megan had been when she found out Ross McKenzie wasn't really his name. Wouldn't you think the man could lie better than that? she thought.

"I'm going to have to ask you to keep what I tell you to yourself."

"Well, now." Pete handed back the badge after a careful scrutiny. "I can't promise that. Not until I know what you have to say."

The two men's gazes clashed for a long moment before Mac nodded reluctantly. "I'd do the same."

They studied the kitchen, then went outside to look for footprints and tire prints and whatever else policemen expected to see. At last they ended up sitting at the kitchen table, Megan listening as Mac told his story to the graying deputy.

Only when he got to her part in it did she contribute. "This guy used an old piece of two-by-four to break the window. Of course that set Zachary off. Surely some hit man would cut the glass or jimmy the lock or something."

"She's got a point," Pete said.

"Come on," Mac said impatiently. "They want it to look like a burglary that went wrong."

Pete shook his head. "Could be. But I've got to tell you, we've had a rash of burglaries at beachfront places. Six or seven in the last month. This could be no more than another one."

"How did they get in?"

"Pretty much the same. Broke a window. Only difference is, nobody was at home when the other places were picked clean."

"This guy had to know someone was here," Mac said. "There was a car out front, a big dog in here carrying on. This SOB broke the window after Zachary started barking, not before. Damn it, no burglar would do that."

Pete nodded at Megan. "Mind if I have a refill of that coffee?" When she took his cup he admitted, "That's pretty unusual. Kids, though, they get drugged up, they're not always smart. You must've scared the hell out of him."

"I'm not so sure," Mac said thoughtfully. "That was the interesting part. A kid should have been yelling at me not to shoot. This guy clobbered me with the two-by-four and took off. Car started so fast, I think he had somebody waiting for him, too. If I could have seen the license..."

"Yeah, we'd have had something to work on," Pete agreed. "As it is, I'll send one of the boys out to dust for fingerprints, just in case. I'm betting we don't find any."

Mac nodded. Pete continued. "Now, as to your problem, I'll tell you what. I'll keep what you told me to myself, so long as this business doesn't go any further. If Megan's attacked, or you are again, that promise is off."

Mac nodded. "I can't ask any more than that. Now will you try to talk this stubborn woman into doing something smart? If she would just go visit some friends for a while..."

Megan didn't give Pete a chance. "I will not run away. So don't waste your breath. I'll move home with my parents for a week or so, but that's my best offer."

Mac's mouth hardened. "Damn it, Megan..."

"No." She gestured passionately. "Even Pete's not sure this wasn't a garden-variety burglar! You're making some big assumptions. I just can't accept them. I mean, the whole thing is nuts! I'm committed at the beach for the summer. What are they supposed to do if I don't show up? School starts for me in less than four weeks. I need to start preparing my room—"

"Four weeks might be long enough," Mac interrupted.

"No." She stared mulishly at him.

He glowered back. "Tevis, help me out here."

"It might not be a bad idea," Pete said. "A little vacation couldn't hurt."

"No."

Mac growled something under his breath and turned his intensity toward Pete. "Can you give us some practical help? Keep an eye on Megan?"

The deputy let out a long breath and shook his head at the same time. "I've been thinking about it, but I don't see how I can. We can drive by the beach a little more often, maybe by here, too, but I just don't see how I can come up with anything else. We're stretched too thin. Do you know how big this county is, how many miles of roads there are? As it is, our response time is embarrassing. I try to explain this story to the boss, it's going to sound like the bogeyman to him."

Megan could see that Mac hadn't expected any other answer. His frustration was obvious in the grim look he gave her.

"Then you're stuck with me day and night," he said. "Don't even try to argue."

She wanted desperately to do just that. How could she bear to share her small house with him for days, weeks, a month? Was she being stubborn for no good reason?

But she couldn't believe somebody was out to hurt her. In the dark, knowing her house had been violated, she had been scared. Now, in the sanity of daylight, the whole thing just didn't make sense. She hadn't seen those men. They knew how far from shore they had been when they dropped Mac into the cold depths. They had chosen the spot for good reasons. If they hadn't been able to see her, they would know damn well that she couldn't identify them. Mac was paranoid. Maybe it was an occupational hazard, but it wasn't one she shared.

No, if anybody here was hunted, it wasn't her. Couldn't he see that he was putting her in danger by staying?

Only, she hadn't quite forgotten last night. What if she had heard the window shattering, her dog suddenly silenced? Footsteps crossing the kitchen. On the stairs. What if Mac hadn't been here? A shiver raised goosebumps on her arms and she slowly nodded.

"Okay. Just don't..." Don't what? Touch her? Kiss her? Look at her with eyes that had darkened to charcoal and a mouth so sensuous her own trembled?

None of those were the things that really scared her. She knew she could trust Mac to protect her physical well-being. It was her emotions, her heart, her innermost self that were in jeopardy. Unfortunately, he was the one who threatened them.

"...just don't make me trip over you," she finished, her voice almost steady.

Somehow she didn't think she fooled either man.

CHAPTER 5

Mac knew damn well that Megan resented him. He was a reminder of things she'd rather forget, a ghost she'd raised herself. One impulsive, gutsy moment, a decision she couldn't take back, and look what a prize she had hauled out of the water. He was closer to a shadow than a flesh-and-blood man. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. He did his best to make sure no one else noticed him, but that didn't do Megan much good. She knew he was there, wherever she went.

In his long and varied career he had learned how to blend in, though his face and his height sometimes made it hard. At the beach nobody paid any attention to him. Bring a towel, a book, wear a gray sweatshirt and jeans on cold days, athletic shorts and a Miami U T-shirt on warm ones, and just hang around. Far as he could tell, there wasn't anything better to do in Devil's Lake anyway. People who weren't out waterskiing were at the beach or barbecuing in their own back yards or maybe hanging a fishing line from one of the docks.