Sprouted

by Gina LaManna

  “You wouldn’t dare suggest that this baby isn’t real,” I growled. “How could you?”

  “I suppose we’d have to verify—”

  I couldn’t help it. I tried to flatten the notion as soon as it hit me, but the urge was too big and too bold, and my hormones were too feisty to be held back.

  Before I knew what was happening, my arm had wound itself up and slingshotted toward his face. Rankle managed to get an arm up and mostly deflect the blow, but I caught the bottom of his lip and a tiny little split appeared, a shiny, itty bitty drop of blood marring his chin.

  I backed away, horrified.

  He grinned and licked his lip, savoring the taste of metal, it seemed, and then shook his head. “Looks like you’ll need to come with me,” he said. “That’s assaulting an officer.”

  Chapter 21

  ANTHONY SIGHED. “CAN you tell me why I’m bailing my pregnant wife out of prison?”

  “I wanted the free healthcare,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Babies are expensive, don’t you know? I’m assuming they have to help me if I go into labor in my cell.”

  “You’re under my insurance,” Anthony said, an eyebrow raised. “I thought we discussed that.”

  “Yeah, and I still find it hard to believe that an employee of Carlos Luzzi has a 401k and a health insurance plan.”

  “Carlos bends rules; he’s not stupid. He sets his employees up well for retirement. There are plenty of job perks that come with working for your grandfather.”

  “Yeah? Then why has Harold never retired? He passed retirement age when he sailed over on the Mayflower.”

  Anthony grinned as he took my hand. “Here I thought I’d find my wife upset, locked away in prison, and yet you’re worried about Carlos’s retirement packages?”

  I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, Anthony. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to punch him in the face.”

  He laughed. “Did he deserve it?

  I cocked my head to the side. “Hard to say. The moment got the best of me.”

  He pulled me close. “I’m just grateful you’re okay. Can you please promise you’ll stay home and not go looking for trouble? At least until this baby is born. Then, we’ll talk about finding a sitter so I can accompany you when you feel the urge to assault a cop.”

  I gave his shoulder a playful nudge before falling against him. “He said he didn’t believe I was actually pregnant! Does he think my ankles normally look like this?”

  Anthony stroked my hair, his chest heaving with what sounded like...laughter?

  “Do you think this is funny, mister?” I pulled back slightly. “This isn’t funny.”

  “No, it’s not. But Rankle is probably convinced now the baby is real. He’s also dropped all charges against you.”

  I groaned. “Why?”

  “I asked him to. Politely.”

  “No, no, no, no!” I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have done that!”

  “What? I thought you’d be happy. I wasn’t going to let you sit in jail.”

  “Thank you, but...” I blew out a breath. “He hates our family for some reason. I don’t know what his beef is with you or Carlos, but I’m sure this is exactly what he wanted.”

  “You’re overthinking this. I simply explained about the misunderstanding, and he saw my point.”

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Except he got what he wanted. He wanted me to use you or Carlos to pull myself out of a scrape and prove him right. He’s playing head games with me.”

  “Well, I don’t like cops, so I suppose it’s fair if he doesn’t like me. What’s the big deal, Lacey? Forget about him. Let’s go home and focus on keeping you comfortable and relaxed for the baby.”

  “You’re right; I’m sorry. None of this is your fault anyway. If I hadn’t decked him in the first place, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

  Anthony cautiously reached out, tucked my hand in his, and steered us toward the door. “Maybe not. Violence is rarely the answer.”

  “I don’t completely regret it,” I admitted with a shy smile. “He was really pushing my buttons.”

  Anthony moved his hand to my shoulder, squeezed me against him. “We can’t ever repeat that in front of Sprout.”

  I leaned up on my tiptoes, kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Agreed.”

  “I do want to hear more about—”

  Anthony opened the rear door to the building and had one foot outside when the swarm of noise swallowed us whole. Reporters of every size, color, and gender flooded the path before us, legions of recording devices and pads of paper extended toward us.

  Things happened so quickly I couldn’t stop to parse out individual phrases. A mass of questions were being hurled at me, one huge invasion of privacy, and I comprehended none of it. I stood frozen in shock while Anthony moved to a defensive position, tucking me just behind him.

  “What do they want?” I squeezed Anthony’s hand so tightly he hissed in a breath. “Why are they here?”

  “The baby bandit! There she is!” One of the nearest reporters called, his voice a low rumble that broke above the din. “Can you explain to us, Miss Luzzi, how you ended up at the scene of not one, but two bank heists over the last few weeks? Are you involved with the robberies?”

  I poked my head around Anthony’s back. “It’s Mrs. Luzzi,” I snapped. “We’re married.”

  Anthony bit back a laugh, but his shoulders trembled as he fought to keep it to himself. “No comment,” he said, waving a hand. “My wife and I are going home. There’s been a simple misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding?” A woman screeched. “Or does this have to do with the colorful history of the Luzzi Family?”

  “Do you help your grandfather maintain control of the city, Lacey Luzzi? How does he do it?”

  My teeth were on edge, retorts burning at my lips as Anthony took my hand and led me down the stairs. It took everything in me to stare in the direction of my toes, though the details were obscured by Sprout, as Anthony plunged into the crowd and took me with him.

  “Now that you’re married to Lacey,” one of the reporters asked, shoving her mic toward Anthony, “does that mean you’re next in line to take over for the Family when Carlos retires?”

  “Is that why you married her?” another man asked. “Looking for an opportunity to get ahead?”

  Anthony’s hand squeezed mine so intensely I thought my own fingers would snap. I’d already hit my breaking point today, and Anthony had calmed me, taken care of me. It was my turn to keep my lid on tight and return the favor. There was no way I’d get off so easily if I decked a reporter.

  “Come on,” I whispered in his ear. “Ignore it. They’re just goading you. Let’s go home.”

  Anthony’s mouth twitched, his eyes burning in fury. I clung on, tighter and tighter, and propelled him forward.

  When someone snarled another comment that had my name splashed all over it, Anthony turned toward the voice, toward me, and I stepped between him and the reporter.

  “Anthony,” I said firmly. “One of us was in jail today already. He’s not worth it.”

  Anthony didn’t seem to hear me. His eyes blazed over my shoulder, seeking out the voice.

  If I didn’t do something quickly, the situation would devolve. We couldn’t afford that to happen on so many levels. On mere impulse, I took the hand that he’d tucked in mine and pressed it to my stomach. I collapsed my hand over his, holding it down so he felt the curve of the baby underneath.

  His eyes softened, his gaze switching to me at once. His gaze held a question.

  “Let’s go home,” I whispered. “Please.”

  “You got to knock someone’s lights out today,” he said, his face twitching into a grin. “What about my fun?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m pregnant.”

  Anthony’s lips curved into a smile, and the humor returned to his eyes. He ran his hand over the baby and pulled me in for a kiss on the forehead. Then he grabbed
my hand and stomped forward, daring anyone to cross his path.

  The reporters let us go, sensing the drama was over. Anthony and I slipped quietly into the waiting black car. Toby sat in the driver’s seat, a grim smile frozen on his face.

  “Drive, Toby,” Anthony said. “Feel free to run over any reporter who tries to stop us.”

  Anthony raised the divider between the front and back, and we settled in for a happy cuddle. I rested my head against Anthony’s shoulder, but one niggling fact kept me from easing entirely into an exhausted nap.

  “How did the reporters know I was there?” I mused. “Was the news made public?”

  Anthony frowned. “It shouldn’t have been. Someone could’ve gotten wind of it, I suppose, or there could be a leak in the department somewhere, but they took you quietly and from the back of the building.”

  “The questions they were asking,” I said, still pondering. “They weren’t right.”

  “The baby bandit?” A teasing little grin snaked up the sides of Anthony’s mouth. “I thought that was sort of cute. You know, except for the whole fact that you earned the nickname in the first place.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said, though even my teasing rang hollow. “If anything, they should’ve been asking more about the bank robberies. Instead, they were focused on our relationship and the Family.”

  “People love a good relationship story. Especially when it’s all Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “We’re not Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “Didn’t I just bust you out of jail?”

  “You—” I sat up. “That’s it! It was a tip from Rankle. He set the reporters on us. I swear, that man couldn’t care less about the fact there’s been four bank robberies in the last few weeks. He’s so worried about this stupid Luzzi thing, whatever truce Carlos has with the cops.”

  “Why would he care so much about it?”

  “Because we were butting heads on these robberies. I thought I’d pegged him, and I was wrong. Now he’s trying to get back at me. Unless...” I hesitated. “Anthony, what if he lied again?!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if he’s not undercover at all? Maybe he really is taking payouts from Fidge, and he’s dumping all this Luzzi crap our way as a distraction. He wants me too busy, too focused on other things so I forget about him getting paid off to bury evidence. I’m sort of a ticking time bomb, anyway—if he can just keep me busy until the baby arrives...”

  Anthony expelled a breath. “I really hate crooked cops.”

  I gave him a funny glance.

  “Why are you surprised? I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not.” Anthony crossed his arms and sat back “You’re well aware I’ve broken the law before, and that’s why I would never pretend to be the one upholding it. Nobody in the Luzzi family is a hypocrite: we know exactly what and who we are.”

  “What you were.” I covered his hand in mine. “Anthony, I started falling in love with you from the day I met you. You know, aside from the whole thinking you were trying to shoot me part.”

  “A slight misunderstanding.” The most tender smile tilted his lips upward, and he leaned forward, devouring my mouth with a kiss. “Thank you, Lacey.”

  I smiled against him, enjoying the way his hands pulled me closer across the backseat until I sat almost in his lap. “Anytime, if you repay me like this.”

  He nuzzled against me and indulged my wishes.

  After I lost my breath, I pulled back, let the magic drift lazily away, then felt my forehead pinch back into concern. “So, what do we do now?”

  “We? Nothing.”

  “It’s too late for nothing,” I said. “I have Clay looking into some information for me. I guess we could wait for him to pull through.”

  “What sort of information?”

  “Proof. Hard proof we can use against Rankle. But it’s tricky. We can’t exactly go to the cops with proof we obtained illegally.”

  Anthony laughed. “You are seriously beginning to worry me. You’re too good at this.”

  “Would you say I’m just one of the family?”

  He winked and leaned over as Toby brought the car to a stop at Carlos’s estate. “I’m thinking you’ll have a spot in the Hallway of Infamy before long.”

  “I have a spot,” I said grumpily. “I’ve shown it to you before.”

  “I mean a real spot,” he said. “Up next to Nicky’s mugshot.”

  “I like having my spelling bee certificate up there.”

  “I know, sugar. I know. But...” He hesitated, sizing me up. “I’m just saying: you were arrested at nearly nine months pregnant. That’s gotta be some sort of record.”

  Chapter 22

  “OH, LOOK! IT’S THE baby present from Meg and Clay.” I stopped on the way into our house and surveyed the huge parcel waiting on the front steps. I would’ve normally bent over to pick it up, but that had become a physical impossibility. “Do you mind bringing it inside? She said it’s for the nursery.”

  Anthony unlocked the door and toed the huge parcel inside. “It doesn’t look like it’s a present. It’s wrapped in recycled brown grocery bags.”

  “Meg hates buying tissue paper—says it’s the biggest waste. She stuffs her presents with whatever she has on hand. Newspaper, socks...cotton candy.”

  Anthony left the door open as he carefully peeled back a layer of old brown wrapping paper. Then another layer. Then a third. The actual gift itself wasn’t as large as it appeared from the outside; in fact, the bulk of the gift was created from packing peanuts and a sparkly variety of tape.

  “A mobile!” I said, when Anthony revealed the gift and looked confused. “For the baby’s crib! Look, it’s adorable. It’s got all of these little animals, and it plays music. Come on, let’s take it upstairs and get it set up—Nora must have told Meg she didn’t get one for the nursery.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “Uh...” I patted my stomach. “I’m not sure how much longer we have. Plus, Meg will want to see it set up next time she comes over.”

  Anthony didn’t look convinced, but the excitement on my face must’ve done the trick because he headed straight upstairs to the nursery. I followed, taking a quick pit stop in the kitchen to microwave a huge frozen pretzel with cheese.

  When I finally made it upstairs, I sighed and leaned against the wall, ripping off a bite of pretzel with my teeth. “Man, am I glad to be rid of prison food.”

  “You weren’t in prison long enough to need a meal!”

  “It was a close call.” I dunked my pretzel in the cheese. “My roommate told me the food was horrible. Hey, that’s looking really cute!”

  Anthony looked rather unimpressed at the multi-piece project that needed fastening together. While I plopped myself in the worn, cozy rocking chair and enjoyed the pretzel, Anthony snapped the pieces together and used up his daily quota of curse words.

  “You won’t be able to say those things when we have Sprout out here with us,” I said. “We’ll have to watch our language. You know, lead by example.”

  “I’ll stop cursing if you give up dessert.”

  “You know, maybe we can work out a compromise,” I amended. “A healthy lifestyle isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

  Anthony grimaced as he slid the final parts into place. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he attached the adorable mobile over the crib. I inched across the room and stuck a doll in the crib, standing back to survey the final effect.

  Little animals danced over the baby’s head, an adorable circus of colors and shapes. I reached forward and hit the play button, returning to Anthony’s side as soothing music played from the speakers.

  “Isn’t this something?” I asked, leaning my head against Anthony’s shoulder. “Our family cares so much. They put together this entire nursery without us asking. This baby is going to be the luckiest—”

  My words were cut off at a soft pop. The sound an airsoft gun makes when the pellet launches from its chamber. I had no
clue what had made the sound until I glanced down and found a dart the length of my pointer finger stuck in Anthony’s toe.

  “Luckiest...” Anthony stopped talking to give me a long, lingering glance, even as his eyes glazed over. “Sure. So lucky.”

  Then he crumpled to his knees, his body sprawled wide on the floor, unconscious.

  DR. GAMBINO ARRIVED in record time, probably assuming my urgent, babbling phone call had something to do with a baby that needed to be born quite soon. Toby and Paul wheeled into the house shortly after, eyes wide at the urgent call I’d sent their way. The cry of man down might have been overkill, but with Anthony unconscious, I didn’t know what to do.

  Imagine Dr. Gambino’s surprise when instead of a baby, he found a fully-grown man snoozing peacefully on the floor of the nursery next to a crib with a rotating mobile and a doll resting beneath it.

  “This is not what it looks like,” I said, easing the door open and showing Dr. Gambino the situation. “You’re probably confused.”

  “Oh, good,” he said wryly, surveying Anthony. “Why don’t you tell me what this situation looks like since I haven’t a clue?”

  I gave a dry laugh. “See, we got this gift from Meg, but it turns out that Clay tweaked it a little.”

  When I’d called Meg after alerting the doctor and Anthony’s men to the emergency, she’d explained that she’d ordered the mobile straight from Amazon. She hadn’t known Clay had tampered with it.

  I told her to drag Clay over to the mansion at once so I could promptly strangle him with my bare hands once Anthony was nice and revived.

  “It’s a relatively mild tranq from what I can tell, though powerful in this dosage,” Dr. Gambino said to the waiting audience. “It’ll take a while for the effects to wear off completely. You’ll want to lay low until it’s out of his system.”

  “This is Anthony. Do you know how difficult it is to make him lay low?”

  “I do.” Dr. Gambino raised his eyebrows. “But it doesn’t seem to be a problem for him right now. Just keep him safe until he’s steady on his feet again.”