Reluctant Burglar: A Novel

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  She lifted her head. “When I went back and read the whole story, there were mitigating circumstances.” She dug in the fanny pack belted around her middle and pulled out a small journal. The end of an envelope stuck out the top. “Here. You can read for yourself. And you can have this, too.” She took out a CD case. “It’s a recording of my conversation with Paul Dujardin. You should get some good mileage out of it.”

  Tony reached for the items. A thrill seized him, like when he left his stomach behind at the top of a ski jump. This was it. The case was on the downhill run to the finish line. His fingers brushed Desiree’s. The cool, powdered slopes melted before the rush of a tropical storm. He snatched his hand back. Desi wiped hers on her sweatpants.

  He stared at her. Desiree Jacobs was innocent. He’d known that deep inside all along. History hadn’t let him believe it, but that history was gone now. Anthony Marco Lucano reporting for duty. Assignment: Get close to this woman. For himself, no one else. A man could spend a lifetime on the task and not begrudge a minute.

  Tony squelched a goofy grin. Stick to business, buster. The bad guys are still out there.

  He tapped the book and CD against his palm. “I’ll get to these as soon as I can.” He put his foot up on the bench and tucked them inside his crew sock. “I could arrest you for withholding information, but I don’t want to.” He ghosted a smile. “Besides, I doubt the DA would seek an indictment, provided you continue to cooperate.”

  The rigid line of her shoulders softened. “Can you tell me anything new the FBI has on the case?”

  “The Italian polizia caught the hired killer who pulled the trigger on your father. I interviewed him in Rome this past weekend.”

  Desi let out a cry. “Thank God! I’ve had horrible dreams … nightmares that no one ever found out who killed Daddy.”

  He stepped away a few paces—out of reach of her tantalizing perfume—and gave her the short version of his interview with the suspect and the aftermath of finding the shooter’s apartment. “We hope Interpol will be able to break into his encrypted files and find the money trail.”

  Desi smacked her hands together. “Awesome news! Here’s something specific to pray about.”

  “You’re a special lady.” High marks for godly pluck, too.

  The light was sufficient now for him to see her blush.

  “Tell me that after I finish my confession.” She paused and took a breath, but didn’t look away. If anything, she stood taller. “I returned a painting yesterday.”

  “To Victor Gambel, the multimillionaire in Washington DC.”

  Her jaw dropped. “How did you find out?”

  Tony grinned. The lady didn’t know everything after all. “We had more than one retired agent on your trail. You and Maxine Webb were never out of our sight until you went to bed, and then you still gave us the slip. You’re good, woman. Real good. So what clue were you digging for in the hotel garbage?”

  The color left Desi’s face. Tony stepped toward her. She whirled and leaned against a tree.

  One day she’ll choose me for support—and not just when she’s out of her mind with grief.

  In fits and starts, she told him everything she remembered about her kidnapping, the phone conversation by the Dumpster, and her realization about her best friend.

  What was she thinking holding out on killers and debating with criminal masterminds? Did she figure that catching crooks was as civilized as a game of Parcheesi?

  “I almost gave in,” she said. “I was going to let them have the paintings. But I woke up in the wee hours this morning, and I couldn’t do it.” She stepped close and searched his face. “Is there any way out of this mess without getting someone else hurt or killed?”

  Tony grasped her shoulders. “First off. Never—” he shook her—“and I mean never—” he shook her once more—“make yourself a target again.” He wrapped her so close he didn’t know if either of them could breathe. But breathing wasn’t important. Not at the moment. He lowered his head and his mouth trapped hers. She molded herself to him, hands fisted in his sweatshirt.

  God Almighty, help me! He set her away, but not too far.

  She looked as dazed as he felt. “Why did you do that?”

  Tony brushed a finger across her cheekbone and around the curve of her jaw. “I’ve been battling the urge for months.”

  “To shake me or kiss me?”

  “Both.”

  She laughed, a sound he wanted to hear a lot more often.

  He took her hand and led her over to the bench. “You sit here.” He pointed to one end. “And I’ll sit here.” He pointed at the other end. “We need to keep our heads on straight.”

  She grinned. “Because?”

  He arched a brow. “Because you and I, dear lady, are going to plot a trap for a nest of cockroaches.”

  Bruised but cherished! Heart still tripping over itself, Desi watched Tony settle in at the opposite end of the bench. Mostly cherished. Thank You, God. You’ve brought me from pariah to princess with one decision. Who would have thought I’d melt—and like it—for a man I couldn’t stand a few weeks ago!

  Too bad she had to bring up the next subject.

  “I see that nimble brain at work,” Tony said.

  Desi sighed. “You’re going to argue with me up, down, and sideways, but I believe someone in the Bureau is in on the thefts. Dad thought so, too.”

  Tony’s eyes hardened, but he nodded. “Something’s been funky about the handling of this case from the start. I’m going to look into a few things when I get back to the office.”

  “Oh, Tony, be careful.” She reached toward him.

  He grasped her hand and tugged her close, eyebrows raised. “Says the Queen of Careful.” He stopped her protest with his lips on hers.

  Thoughts of thieves, murderers, and danger receded to a realm of make-believe. He drew away, and she opened her eyes. His face hovered inches from hers. “So much for keeping our distance for the sake of productive discussion.” He sat back. “You realize that after we leave this grotto, our relationship has to stay professional until after the case is over.”

  Desi snuggled into his shoulder and inhaled the scent of sweaty male. “I’m happy to stay right here for as long as I can.”

  Tony stroked her hair. “You could glue us to this bench, and I wouldn’t argue.”

  They laughed together. Oh, I like this! I’m addicted already.

  Tony’s arm tensed. Desi lifted her head.

  Approaching feet—more than one person. Could be someone from the neighborhood that would recognize one or both of them. Not a good thing when nobody was supposed to know they had met this morning.

  “What should we do?”

  Tony shot her a wicked grin. “Not let them see our faces.” He turned so his upper body covered hers.

  Tense muscles, soft lips. Snickers from the passing joggers. The footfalls faded over the hill.

  Tony sat back, one arm draped around her shoulders. “Did the audience make you nervous, or are you having second thoughts about us?”

  “Us?” She looked into his face. “I like the sound of that, if you’ve got more in mind than a casual date or two. What about ‘after this case is over,’ as you said? I don’t pass my kisses out to any Joe Schmo, even when I’m scared and desperate beyond belief. Not even to the guy whose brown eyes make my pulse leap over Mount Everest.”

  His eyes sparked. “Good. Keep it that way.” One finger traced the vein in her throat. “Woman, you have no idea what I’ve got planned for you as soon as we get you out of danger. But I can tell you this—there’s someone who’ll want to have you over for dinner as soon as possible.”

  “You cook?”

  “Not me, darlin’. I’m a takeout/microwave kind of guy, but my mom makes lasagna that they must envy in heaven.”

  Shazam! With men, the mom-thing meant serious. She grinned at Tony; he smiled back.

  His face sobered. “Okay, for now we need to go our separate ways. A
s soon as you have your instructions for surrender of the paintings, get to a public phone and call me. Don’t use your house phone or your cell phone, way too easy for someone to listen in on those. Give me the info, and I’ll set up surveillance. We’ll catch whoever picks up the goods.”

  Desi shook her head. “Don’t forget about the traitor in your midst. Your calls could be monitored, too. And who can you trust to help you? Besides me, of course. You sure better not bring that nutcase partner of yours in on the operation.”

  A quick kiss answered her.

  “To tide me over.” He grinned. “Now, one, you are not a part of the surveillance except to alert me to where and when.”

  “But—”

  He stopped her budding protest in the usual manner. When he finally pulled away and spoke, his voice was less than steady. “I can’t let you be nearby when this goes down. I’ll be so worried about you, I won’t be able to do my job right, and that could get us both killed.”

  “Oh, I see.” That made sense. Of course, right now he could tell her that gravity was a hoax and she’d believe him.

  “Two, not even a dirty agent would dare put a bug on an FBI office phone. They’re swept with beyond state-of-the-art equipment. Three, you’ll have to let me line up my team. I’ve got some pretty good ideas already.”

  With that, he stood. “I’m going to finish my jog now, double-time, or I’ll be late for work. You wait a while, and then head down the path the other way.”

  Fears and questions still bombarded Desi’s mind, but in her heart a new river of peace flowed. How good it felt to have another person step up strong and tall and make a few decisions. Someone to lean on … maybe even more. Had she found someone to love? Excitement bubbled. She banked it. Best leave that for later exploration.

  “All right.” She nodded. “I agree to the plans you’ve outlined so far. But there must be a role I can play. I’m not good at twiddling my thumbs.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Tony chuckled. “You’re an asset I don’t want to waste, so we’ll figure out something.” He leaned down and pecked her on the lips. “I’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “You better not.” Oh, boy, sappy smiles all the way around. Good thing he’s as besotted as I am.

  “There is one thing I should tell you …” He gazed toward the top of the hill and put his hands in his pockets.

  “No secrets. Remember? That works both ways.”

  One side of Tony’s mouth lifted. “Fair enough. Right before I left for Italy, one of our electronics specialists showed me entries in your father’s Palm Pilot. The notations suggest that he was seeing a woman. Memos like “Send roses” or a reminder to make reservations at one of the more romantic restaurants in the city. The start of the liaison coincides with his involvement in the theft ring. Do you have any idea who this person might be?”

  Desi sat back hard enough for the air to woof from her lungs. “No. Daddy seeing someone? He would have told me …” She bit her lip. Or would he?

  Not unless the relationship got serious. She relaxed. Then her stomach muscles knotted. Or unless the femme fatale had a connection to the thieves—and Daddy knew it.

  Tony adjusted his tie as he headed out the door of his condo. He’d have to drive smooth and slick to make the office on time. He didn’t want to do anything out of the ordinary, like being late, that would arouse suspicion in someone watching his movements.

  He’d have to play it close to the vest with Desi, too. Now that he had hope of winning her, he didn’t want to mess up. She thought she ought to be told his next move, but that might not be a good idea. She was going to have to let him do his job as he saw fit. He’d already decided to take a chance on someone that she wouldn’t approve. But there was something that mattered more than her approval.

  Her survival.

  Daddy with a girlfriend?

  Desi turned the notion over in her mind as she got ready for work. She would have been happy for him. How terrible if he’d had an opportunity at love snatched away from him. She sat on the end of her bed.

  This secret romance scenario doesn’t feel right. Odd that no grieving stranger showed up at Daddy’s funeral. Desi left her apartment shaking her head. No doubt the FBI had given a faulty interpretation to a few vague entries in his electronic scheduler. They didn’t know her dad like she did.

  She’d believe in the girlfriend theory when the woman showed up with smoking roses in her hand.

  Tony walked into the office a minute shy of late. Something was up. Voices hummed. Agents hustled through the bull pen. One raised her eyebrows as she passed him, then stopped and looked back. “An all squad meeting ASAP The brass is on the warpath.”

  Tony went to his desk and found Crane grabbing a pen and pad of paper. He wore the usual scowl on his face.

  “Any idea what the meeting’s about?” Tony snagged a pad and a pen.

  Crane shrugged. “Rumor has it there’s some terror alert for the area. Squads are being gutted to act as gophers for the Joint Terrorism Task Force.”

  Tony uttered a crude word. Crane stared at him like he’d sprouted horns.

  “You catching a little devilment from me?” He grinned.

  Tony shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I know better, but I haven’t made it even halfway close to perfect yet.” Looking around, he noticed that the workspace had cleared out. “The Jacobs case is about to go volcanic. We’ve got to stick with it. Desi handed me the moon and then some this morning at dawn.”

  Crane’s breath hissed between his teeth.

  “You guys coming?” a team member called from the doorway.

  Tony waved him away. “We’ll be right there.”

  Stevo looked ready to chew nails. “You and me are going to have one big powwow after this meeting.”

  “You got it, but right now we’re going to pray.”

  Crane gaped like a beached mackerel. “We’re going to what?”

  Tony suppressed a smile, took his hands out of his pockets, looked up, and closed his eyes. “Lord, it seems we might be heading into a conflict of interest here. Steve and I need to do one thing while the authorities over us might expect another. But You knew this was going to happen before it did. Desiree Jacobs is Your child, too, and she needs our help. Please arrange everything so we can be there for her and take some bottom-feeders off the streets while we’re at it. We ask in Jesus’ holy name … Oh, and by the way, this pug ugly next to me is Steve Crane. I know You care about the guy, but he likes to pretend he doesn’t believe in You. I know he’s not that stupid, so if You could get his attention, that would be great with me. Amen.”

  He opened his eyes. Crane was staring at the floor, red-faced and blinking like a debutante. Tony tapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon. We’ll be late.” He walked off.

  The meeting room was almost full. They took seats near the back.

  Bernard Cooke sat on a dais in front and to the side. He gazed over the room like a brooding eagle. Rachel Balzac stood near a whiteboard, front and center. Stocky and with a bulldog face, she dressed like she meant for the crease in her pants to cut paper. She threaded a laser pointer around and around between the fingers of one hand. Pretty smooth trick.

  Her dark eyes honed in on the pair of stragglers. Those eyes would be her best feature, except they were cop flat. She frowned. “If we’re not waiting for anyone else, let’s shut the door and get under way. Hit the lights.”

  The room went dark except for the projection on the whiteboard. A Middle Eastern face with eyes colder than Rachel’s stared out on the gathered agents. But the man’s most notable feature was a jutting, ill-shaven jaw.

  “This is the best recent picture we have of Abu al Khayr. His name means ‘one who does good.’ His definition of good includes blowing up anything that has to do with the U.S. or Israel. He’s a high-ranking al Qaeda planner who likes to personally oversee his work. The list of his suspected involvements and other pertinent data is being passed arou
nd the room.”

  Paper rustled.

  “And this is al Khayr debarking from a ship in Boston harbor yesterday afternoon.” A grainy picture flashed onto the screen that showed clear resemblance to the first shot only in the chin.

  “Anywhere this man is seen, a major strike follows. We need al Khayr caught and his plans stopped. As of this moment, every one of you is at the disposal of the Joint Terrorism Task Force. All of you except Lucano and Crane. Since those two saw fit to stroll in late, if you’ve got anything on a current case that needs immediate attention, you can dump it on them while you concentrate on this new priority”

  Crane groaned. Tony did the same, but only because it was expected. A chuckle rippled around the room. Tony did an inner tap dance. Thank You, God! They had a clear field to take care of business with the Chief and company.

  Rachel slapped the pointer against her palm. “Next up is a list of specific tasks for each squad to perform.” The photograph left the board and was replaced by a bullet list. “I’m the liaison from this office to the other law enforcement agencies on the JTTF, so everything gets run through me.”

  Tony glanced at his partner. Stevo looked like he’d sat on a burr.

  “Don’t say it!”

  No words were necessary. A little answered prayer spoke well enough.

  Desi walked toward the HJ Securities building. The morning sun warmed her shoulders, but her heart went colder with every step.

  Oh, Max, how did you get involved in a theft ring? What tempted you?

  Desi’s steps slowed. What would Max’s arrest do to her children, her husband? The woman would pay for her crimes, but her innocent family would pay, too. How could Desi get through the day without tearing every red hair out of the woman’s head? She put a smile on her face and walked in the front door.

  “Hiya.” The receptionist waved. “Your voice mail has backed up from here to next week since you’ve been out of town. Maybe some new clients. Let’s hope!” The woman lifted folded hands.

  “We’re due for a break.” Desi went up the hall toward her office at the rear of the building.