Hero In The Nick Of Time

By Marie Ferrarella

CHILDFINDERS, INC.

THE MARRIAGE MASQUERADE

Cade Townsend knew almost nothing about his new wife! But posing as McKayla Dellaventura's husband was the only way they could expose the black–market ring that had stolen her infant niece and his son. Still, the savvy investigator realized his marriage to the beautiful stranger who'd blasted herself into his solitary life needed to look real in every respect. He just didn't expect this amazing woman to arouse almost–forgotten emotions and needs. And he suddenly knew his family would never be complete unless McKayla made him more than just her hero in the nick of time!

When a child is missing and a heart needs mending, it's time to call ChildFinders, Inc.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460861875

Marie Ferrarella

This USA TODAY bestselling and RITA ® Award-winning author has written more than two hundred books for Harlequin Books and Silhouette Books, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website at www.marieferrarella.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Where are you?

The dark, shining eyes, so like his own, looked back at Cade Townsend. Breaking his heart.

Like a blind man using the tips of his fingers to read the contours of the face of the child before him, Cade moved his fingertips along the face of his son.

But instead of the soft, downy skin and small curves that should have met his touch when it came in contact with the three-year-old’s face, his fingers came in contact with a cold, hard surface. The glass in front of Darin’s framed four-by-five photograph.

There was no laughter to fill the room, only laughter in his memory, date-stamped three years ago. Three years today.

Today was Darin’s birthday.

Today was the day he’d lost Darin.

The memory that was never far away rushed forward, solidifying in vivid colors. He’d taken Darin to an amusement park to celebrate the occasion. The kind with rides and noise and music. Darin hadn’t known where to look first. Everything had fascinated him. Cade smiled fondly at the photograph. Mind like a sponge, absorbing everything. Retaining everything. Darin had been his special gift, especially after Elaine had died.

The day, Cade had insisted, belonged to the two of them. He’d wanted to celebrate it with his son. Later in the day there’d be time for the party and gifts.

Later never came.

In the days and weeks following Darin’s disappearance from the park, his personal search had turned into a crusade. Cade’s writing career fell by the wayside. The bottle had called to him, offering temporary anesthesia and permanent oblivion down the line. But his father had gone that route, breaking his neck while in an alcohol-induced stupor and dying at the age of thirty-two. Cade wasn’t about to pass that sort of legacy on to Darin.

Determined to glean some good out of the soul-torturing situation for Darin’s sake, Cade founded ChildFinders, Inc. The Southern California-based agency was dedicated to finding missing children, whether abductees or runaways, and reuniting them with their families.

Unique in its purpose, the organization had a stunning track record. It was batting almost a thousand. Every missing child Cade and his two associates had been asked to search for had been recovered.

Except for Darin.

Darin, the reason he had begun the agency, the reason he drew breath every morning, was still among the missing.

There were times that Cade felt as if he were tilting at windmills, with despair as his very real opponent. Those times, it was difficult not to believe that his son had vanished off the very face of the earth. Except he couldn’t allow himself to believe that. Not if he were to function, not if he were to be any good to anyone. The pain was like a steel bear trap closing around his heart, but little by little, he’d learned to deal with it. To ignore it for long lengths of time. Long enough to be of use to others.

But on days like today, days that carried so much personal significance, when the memories came charging back, attacking him on all sides with a vengeance, it was particularly hard to stay ahead of the pain and not let it just engulf him.

What good would that do? his mind posed.

It wasn’t until she cleared her throat that Cade realized he wasn’t alone in this office room. There was a woman standing m his doorway. Statuesque, lean, with swirls of deep auburn hair framing her face and edgy agitation leaving its stamp on her. Her demeanor suggested she’d been standing there a minute, perhaps even more, observing him. Giving him his moment, but impatient about the grant.

With the deadly calm that stemmed from his one-quarter Cherokee heritage, the calm he had learned to arm himself with, Cade replaced the framed photograph on his desk where it caught the afternoon light. Only when he was satisfied with its position did he raise his eyes to the dark-haired woman, giving her his attention.

May I help you? He half rose in his seat as he asked.

McKayla Dellaventura hadn’t wanted to interrupt, but at the same time, she’d wanted to grasp his arm and drag him out of the office, filling him in on the details of the search as they hurried to her car. The words too late ricocheted endlessly in her mind.

She nodded toward the hallway. Your secretary said it was all right to come in.

He raised his brow. My secretary’s out sick.

She didn’t like being confused. It wasn’t her natural state. Being on top of everything was. That was why the situation she found herself in was doubly difficult for her. She glanced over her shoulder toward the outer office, which was empty now.

A blond woman... She trailed off, thinking that should have rung a bell for him.

Now Cade understood. That would be Megan. My partner. One of my partners, he amended. At times, it was hard keeping track of the fluctuating basic structure of the agency, it was growing so fast. They’d gone from one to two partners almost immediately.

Megan Andreini, the special agent who had been attached to the FBI unit searching for his son, motivated by personal reasons, quit her job with the bureau and joined ChildFinders, Inc. A year into it, they had acquired Sam Walters, an ex-policeman, and just recently, Megan’s younger brother, Rusty, fresh out of college with dual degrees in criminology and law enforcement, had joined the agency. There was certainly enough work coming in. The trickle was now a very steady stream, threatening to become a flood. And each job represented a child who had disappeared.

It made him ill to think about it.

Blocking out the thought, Cade gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. Won’t you have a seat?

The woman perched more than sat, the hum of nervous energy all but visibly vibrating around her. It was something he had come to expect from the people who entered his agency. He saw them at their worst, and their best. Shattered souls who were trying their hardest to keep up a brave front. Tortured men and women who broke down and sobbed in front of a stranger. Sobbed because their lives had been torn apart.

The woman before him didn’t look like a crier, he thought. She looked as if she were ready to run headlong into whoever it was who had taken the child away from her and out of her life.

He’d become a fairly good judge of character, sitting behind this desk. This woman looked every inch the fighter.

I don’t know where to begin.

That, too, he was accustomed to. Any place you want, he told her softly. We’ll sort it out as you go along. When she still looked undecided, he added, Telling me your name might help.

Mac felt like an idiot. How could she forget to introduce herself? Because this situation is like nothing you’ve ever been in before, that’s why, she thought irritably.

With a toss of her head, she said, Oh, yes, of course. I’m McKayla Dellaventura. Dr. McKayla Dellaventura, she amended, as if the title that had taken her so long to earn was merely an afterthought. Dental, not medical. she explained. She realized how disjointed she had to sound, like a videotape that fitfully stopped and started, only to stop again. I’m sorry, everything is still so jumbled.

Cade knew the feeling was one that faded, but never truly left. It wouldn’t until the moment she was reunited with the missing child. But she didn’t need to be told that.

Take your time, he advised.

His voice, deep and rich, had a soothing effect. For just a moment, Mac allowed it to wash over her and take root. Ever since the accident, she felt as if she were running through an emotional minefield, never knowing where the next bomb was and when it might go off.

She slid a little farther down the seat, almost off it entirely. I’d like you to help me find my niece. She’s been kidnapped.

Cade took out a very worn leather-bound notebook from his shirt pocket, turning to a fresh page. He made a notation before looking up. He needed a wealth of details and began to help the woman along in providing them. You have reason to believe she’s been kidnapped.

Reason? Mac laughed shortly. Oh, yes, we have ‘reason’ to believe she’s been kidnapped. Her outrage at the situation got the better of her. What kind of a monster steals a child from the scene of an accident? She’s an eighteen-month-old girl, not quite old enough to drive away on her own yet.

Mac caught herself and blew out a breath. Her brother Danny had always warned her that her mouth would get her in trouble. She flashed Cade an apologetic half smile.

I’m sorry, that was uncalled-for. I’ve been given the runaround a lot lately. She dragged polish-free nails through a tangle of deep auburn hair. My sister was in a car accident two days ago. When the paramedics arrived, one of them said he thought that because of my niece’s injuries, Heather might need more specialized care than the hospital in the immediate area could provide. He called a second ambulance to take her to Mission Memorial. Her green eyes darkened. The only problem was, the ambulance never arrived at the hospital with Heather.

She remembered the raw disbelief that had ricocheted through her when she’d gone down to Mission Memorial to inquire about Heather. Annoyance had turned into cold fear. She remembered, too, the call home to tell her parents that their only grandchild was missing. And she had been the one to tell her sister, Moira, not wanting to leave that to either of her parents. Remembered how helpless she’d felt, standing there, watching Moira as her body had convulsed with sobs.

There was no way any of them were going to continue to endure this agony indefinitely. She was going to find Heather or die in the attempt.

Forcing herself to rein in her own inner turmoil, Mac continued. As far as everyone knows, the ambulance was stolen or hijacked. She was leaning against the desk now, her eyes holding Cade’s. The upshot is that my niece is out there somewhere, and I want her found as fast as is humanly possible.

There were still more questions than answers here, Cade thought. Your sister—

Anticipating his question, Mac jumped in with an answer. Is lying in a hospital bed in Harris Memorial Hospital right now and, quite frankly, doesn’t feel like it’s worth living anymore. Two years apart, they were close enough for her to sense that without words. Moira was the delicate one in the family, the shy beauty whose ways could never have been Mac’s. But there was boundless love between the sisters, and Mac meant to protect Moira any way she could. The family’s authorized me to act on her behalf.

The family? The situation was dire, as always, but the term almost managed to bring a smile to Cade’s lips. It sounded like something he might have heard in an old movie about the Mafia.

Impatience clawed at Mac. She’d spent two days spinning her wheels, getting mired deeper in the mud for her trouble. She wanted to be out and about, doing something useful. Productive. Finding Heather before something happened to her. That it might already have was something she refused to think about, keeping the thought instead under heavy lock and key, away from the light of day.

My father, mother, brothers, sister—family, she repeated tersely, her very manner challenging him.

There was no question about it, he was dealing with a type A personality, Cade thought. Since he was, by nature, methodical and even-paced, he felt that some adjustment was necessary. The adjustment would have to be on her part, because he wasn’t about to abandon a method that worked for him. Have you received a note?

No.

He jotted that down, underlining the word twice. No note was usually not a good sign. But in this case, there might be extenuating circumstances to consider. He raised his eyes to hers, noting that hers were intensely green now.

Any reason to suspect that kidnapping was the main intention?

The soothing element in his voice was beginning to have the reverse effect. Mac curbed the urge to jump to her feet and pull him to his as well. Heather’s gone, isn’t that reason enough?

The woman was obviously intelligent, and it was just her impatience that blinded her to something so obvious as what they might be dealing with. Cade began to explain his reasoning to her, wondering if she was going to feel as if he was being patronizing.

No, what I mean is that whoever took the ambulance might have taken it for another reason entirely. They might not have even known that your niece was in the ambulance until after they took it.

Mac found the thought chilling. Is that supposed to comfort me? She didn’t know if that made the situation better or worse and didn’t have the time to try to analyze it. Every moment was precious. Either way, she’s still gone.

You’re right, he allowed, but if the intention was to steal the ambulance and not the child, there’s a large chance that whoever stole the ambulance will leave your niece somewhere conspicuous where she can be found and eventually returned.

No, she thought, that still didn’t make her feel better. It meant that Heather had been left somewhere to meet possible dire consequences. She couldn’t let her mind go there, either. She was beginning to feel like a rat in a maze with all the passages being closed off, one after another.

In mounting desperation, Mac laid her cards on the table. I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, Mr. Townsend, but while you are expounding on theories, my niece is still missing. Pulling herself together, she rattled off the details of the ongoing investigation to the best of her knowledge. The police are trying to locate the missing ambulance and the paramedics who were in it, but so far, they’ve had no luck. She saw Cade opening his mouth and anticipated what he was about to say. I appreciate the fact that they’re doing what they can, so spare me that speech, please. But they’ve got a lot more to keep them busy than just my missing niece. I can’t tell them what to do.

Cade had more than a passing hunch that Dr. McKayla Dellaventura had already tried to commandeer the Bedford, California, police department and instruct them on what to do, only to have failed—not for lack of effort on her part, he was sure.

"But you can tell me what to do?"

If there was something amusing going on here, Mac didn’t notice it. Paying your fee should entitle me to something.

It took effort to keep from snapping the words at him. Though she had a habit of plowing ahead, she wasn’t usually this abrupt with people. But although conscious of her shortcomings here, Mac couldn’t be bothered trying to police herself. There was too much at stake.

Cade studied her for a second before speaking. He wasn’t annoyed, but he felt that the good doctor had to be made aware of exactly how things operated here.

It entitles you, Dr. Dellaventura, he informed her in slow, measured cadence, to my very best efforts in locating your missing niece. It does not entitle you to tell me how to conduct my investigation. That is up to my discretion and the discretion of the people who work at ChildFinders, Inc. In short, you’re paying for expertise, not to play leader of the pack. He searched her face to see if the message was sinking in. He couldn’t tell. Any questions?

She probably had that coming, Mac thought. At least the man wasn’t a pushover, or some smooth-talking bureaucrat.

The slightest of smiles quirked her mouth. Well, at least I don’t feel bad anymore about being testy toward you when I first walked in.

He smiled at her. Maybe he had sounded a little harsh, but Cade had a feeling that anything less wouldn’t have made a dent. That wasn’t supposed to come out as a lecture.

She shook her head, sending dark waves of hair swirling around her face and shoulders. Doesn’t matter. My feelings don’t figure into this mix, Mr. Townsend. All that matters, all that counts, is finding Heather. Alive, she emphasized. She allowed herself a momentary break from form, confessing, I have this terrible feeling that if we don’t find her soon, we never will.

She didn’t strike Cade as the type to walk into a situation cold, without knowing the lay of the land. And it was a known, publicized fact that the more time that passed after an abduction, the less likely successful recovery of the missing child was apt to be. Memories faded, people became confused, forgetful. Facts became jumbled, clues lost or overlooked.

If we don’t find Heather, she continued, trying not to think what that would mean to her and the others, let alone her sister, Moira won’t have the strength to pull through. She was sure of that as well. More than anything, Moira’s life seemed to hang by a thread. And that thread was finding Heather.

Your sister, he guessed.

My sister, she echoed, nodding as she realized that she’d forgotten to give him Moira’s name. Only showed how very rattled this had all left her. Her full name is Moira McGuire.

He read the look in her eyes and guessed that the sisters were close. And of the two, Mac was probably the caretaker. Either that, or the steamroller.

Mac drew herself up, seeming to grow an inch taller in the chair. You’ll take the case?

All things considered, it should have been a question. But it was less of a question than a forceful statement. Cade had a feeling that saying no to this woman was never an easy matter.

All my operatives are busy with cases of their own, he began.

She cut him off. I didn’t ask about them, Mr. Townsend, she told him coolly. I—my family, she amended, although she had been the one to bring the matter up, as well as