Reluctant Smuggler

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

Leave me alone!

  The covers left his body, and a chill rushed through him. Hey, put those back.

  Hands messed with body parts he considered private. A palm strike to the sternum should handle the problem. Come on, arm, do it! Nothing. Nobody heard him. Nobody knew he was going crazy trapped inside this dead thing.

  He could leave. He had only to choose. If he sank into the darkness, he’d come out on the other side, a place of eternal light and forever warmth. Don’t ask how he knew. He just did.

  “The catheter looks fine, Mr. Lucano.” She tucked the covers around him again. Thank You, Jesus. “All sorts of people are counting on you to get well.”

  All sorts of people? Those voices that taunted his memory? They wanted him to hang around, but what about what he wanted? Better to be absent from the body and present with the Lord. Good words. Good thought. Good choice. Sleep and be with Jesus.

  Friends in high places were an excellent thing when a person had to get home in the teeth of a blizzard. A call to the director of the FBI, who called the governor of New York, who called the director of transportation for the state of New York, who called the transportation station in Albany, and here she was, strapped to a jump seat behind the driver of a snowplow.

  Desi stared out the plows window into the snarling white world. Earmuffs dulled the roar of the machine and the howl of the storm—a droning backdrop to the cries of her heart.

  I’m close, Tony. Hang in there.

  Her teeth ground together. But would twenty miles an hour be quick enough when she still had a hundred to go? What if she was too late? What if—?

  Don’t think like that!

  God was with Tony. She had to hang on to hope. She’d concentrate on the wedding. That’s it. Not the social nightmare the event had morphed into. Nope, she’d marry the man in his hospital room if he’d wake up and say, “I do.”

  Somebody blew his nose near Tony’s ear. Loud.

  “Don’t let him die, God. Please. I don’t beg nobody for nothing, but for him—” Strangled sound. “You’re the only hope, God. ’Cuz I can’t leave it to chance whether this guy lives or dies. He’s my paid, and he’s…like a son to me. Just don’t ever tell him I said that.” Long sniff. “Hey, by the way, this talking to You stuff isn’t so hard. But don’t tell him I said that either.”

  If you want to keep secrets, don’t talk out loud. Had he said that? Couldn’t have. He got no reaction. Besides, there was some kind of goofy hose down his throat. Someone must have beaten the living tar out of him to make every molecule throb like this. Funny, he had no memory of anything except…fiery cold. Like hell’s deep freeze. A shudder wracked him.

  A big hand wrapped around his and squeezed.

  “Squeeze back if you’ve been eavesdropping on me yakking to God.”

  Could he do it? He hadn’t been able to wring any cooperation out of his body yet. Did he want to try?

  “Come on, pard. You’ve got Max and Lana going out of their skulls. And those kids of Max’s are praying up a storm. Their Uncle Tony can’t check out on them.” The hand tightened. “Desi’s on her way. You don’t wanna be snoozing when she walks in.”

  Desiree! Something like an electrical charge zapped through his brain. He saw the face of a woman with hazel eyes, soft sable hair, and a saucy smile. Those full, firm lips—they tasted like everything he’d ever wanted. His Des. No way was he leaving her.

  Tony gathered every atom of will and forced it down his arm. Was it enough? Did he ripple his fingers or only think he had?

  “Wha-hoo!”

  Tony winced on the inside.

  “Good going, Lucano! You’re not gonna die. I’ll let everybody know. You wait here.”

  Like I’m going someplace, Stew?

  Heavy footsteps receded.

  Steve Crane. Yep, that’s the loudmouth—the friend who stuck like a burr in his side. Good thing too. But don’t tell him I thought that, God.

  Tendrils of black fog wrapped around him, and he didn’t resist. He wasn’t going to wake up all the way for anyone but Desi. Kidneys, get busy! He needed to bust out of this hospital bed and marry that woman.

  In the wee hours of the morning, Desi opened the snowplow’s door into a realm of cold silence. She clambered down the steps against the protest of cramped muscles. The hospital building towered above her.

  White mounds glittered under the entrance light, blocking her access, and the plow couldn’t get an inch closer without ripping off the canopy over the door. If her eyes were lasers, they’d burn a path.

  “Stand aside, Ms. J.” A cheerful voice spoke behind her. “I’ll have you inside in a jiffy.”

  Desi looked up to find the driver climbing out of his cab, shovel in hand. Muscling down the freeway in a snowplow would never be her idea of fun, but her driver looked like Buddy Hackett and drove like John Wayne. Clamp the reins in his teeth, pull out his six-guns, and charge the enemy, grinning all the way.

  “Have at it.” Desi stepped aside.

  Powder flew first one direction, then the other. The driver paused and leaned on his shovel. “Crazy how that blizzard shut down soon’s we hit Boston. Like it just give up on stoppin’ us. Big Bertha there.” He jerked a nod at his plow. “She don’t take no guff from Old Man Winter.” He went back to scooping.

  Did Desi hear him whistling under his breath? Her fingers clenched and unclenched in her pockets. Hurry! You dean sweet man, hurry! Now that she stood outside the building that held her Tony, each moment of delay sank sharp claws into her heart. I’m here, sweetheart. Can you feel me loving you?

  The snowplow driver finished his work, saluted Desi with his shovel, and stepped out of her way. With a hurried but heartfelt “Thank you,” she dashed up the open path and yanked on the door. Locked. A small sign on the window of the lit vestibule said After Hours, Ring Bell. She found the button, slapped her palm over it, and leaned.

  Two eternal minutes later, a black woman in a white pantsuit strode toward the door, frown puckering her face. Desi took her hand from the bell and stamped her chilled feet.

  The woman pressed a button inside the entry. “This is not the emergency entrance.” Her snarl came through a speaker above Desi’s head.

  She found her intercom button. “I’m Desiree Jacobs. My fiancé, Anthony Lucano, is a patient here, and Im going to see him.”

  The nurse didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. “Come back during visiting hours, ma’am. How did you get here, anyway?”

  Desi pointed to the mammoth plow, and the driver flashed his lights, grinning fit to bust. “Shall I ride that over to the home of the man in charge of the Boston FBI office and have him tell you to let me in?”

  Nurse Snark’s mouth fell open. “Oh, you’re here for the miracle man, that FBI agent.”

  The door buzzed, and Desi darted inside.

  “Follow me.” The nurse turned on her heel.

  Desi peeled off her jacket as she hustled behind her guide. A third person fell in behind them—a security guard.

  The nurse glared at him. “About time you showed up.”

  He shrugged. “Doing rounds.”

  “A smoke in the John is more like it,” the nurse muttered as they crossed the lobby and reached an elevator. The guard waved them into the car and wandered off toward a desk.

  The nurse punched in two floor numbers. “Your man’s the talk of the hospital. Wish I could escort you to him, but call lights are crazy tonight. Got to get back to my duty station. You get off on the eighth floor.” She wrinkled her nose. “Watch out for Claudia Stetler. She’s an old-school RN and pinches hospital policies so hard they squeal.”

  “You saw that megaplow out there?”

  “Yeah.” The nurse looked at her with frank appraisal.

  “I may be petite on the outside, but that’s me on the inside.”

  The nurse chuckled. “Oh, honey, now I really wish I could go with you.”

  “I don’t care if your policy says only immediate family or next of
kin in the patients room after visiting hours.”

  Desi’s voice pricked Tony’s consciousness.

  “I’m his fiancée,” she went on, her voice closer, “and I—”

  “Miss, I must uphold the regulations of this hospital.” The squeaky shoes indicated the antiseptic-smelling nurse who kept bothering him. He should have decked her when he had the chance. “I don’t see a ring on your finger. How do I know—?”

  “In the past forty-eight hours, I’ve been robbed, knocked down, threatened at gunpoint, and nearly arrested in Mexico.”

  When had all that stuff happened to her? Why didn’t he know about it?

  “I’ve spent hours in an airplane and the cab of a snowplow.” Desi’s voice rang like iron on anvil. “And you think you’re going to stand between me and my man?”

  So close. Just outside his door. Tony’s breathing quickened.

  “Please keep your voice down.” The nurse sounded like his second-grade teacher trying to restore order after recess. “You can stay in the waiting room with a pillow and blanket until after the doctor sees him in the morning. We mustn’t disturb him now.”

  Lady, what do you think you’ve been doing all night long?

  “Step—out—of—the—way.” Desi’s precise enunciation could have cut glass. “Or I’ll raise such a ruckus every patient on this floor will wake up and press their call button. And then I’ll contact the mayor, the chairman of the hospital board, and the head of the Boston FBI to join the party—and believe me, they’ll show up.”

  If he could laugh, he would. His Desi, all right. A shushing noise and change in the atmosphere said the door had opened.

  “Oh, Tony.” Desi exhaled his name.

  He had to see her—had to open his eyes.

  “Just for a few seconds then, miss.” The nurse sounded like she’d been weaned on prune juice. “Let me check his—”

  Tony’s eyes popped open. What do you know? He did it. But he wasn’t looking at Desi. He was staring at the nurse, who stared back. The woman wasn’t the enormous battle-ax he’d pictured. Not an inch over five feet tall, pearl-gray hair, and glasses perched on a small nose, she was as dainty as Desiree, but a few decades older. Just as feisty, though.

  Out! He tried to say it aloud, but the tube in his throat made a gurgle of the word. He lifted his hand and pointed toward the door.

  Her eyes lit. “Why, Mr. Lucano, you’re awake and aware. That’s wonderful. I’ll go chart that while you spend time with your lovely fiancée.” She turned on her heel, shoes squeaking.

  “Oh, darling.” Desi floated toward him, disheveled, beautiful.

  His eyes drifted shut. Open! The inner command had no affect. He mentally called his rebellious body an angry name.

  “Shhhh,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m here.” Her breath fanned his face, and her lips found his forehead. Warm contentment spread through him.

  Her fingers sifted through his hair. “Rest, so you can get better, and we can make a date with the pastor.”

  Tony smiled, and not just on the inside.

  The door shushed. “Ten minutes, miss.” That nurse again. “The night duty ICU physician is on his way. As Mr. Lucano continues to regain consciousness, we can begin dialing down the oxygen and possibly extubate by morning. If all goes well, we should be able to move him to a step-down unit where you can be with him all the time. I assume you’ll want a pillow and blanket in the waiting room so you can stay nearby during this process?”

  “You assume correctly. Thank you. And my name is Desiree.”

  “Very good, Desiree. Mine is Claudia. Use the call button if you need anything.”

  “Claudia?”

  “Yes, miss—Desiree.”

  “Thank you for taking good care of Tony.”

  “You’re most welcome.” The door shushed again.

  Tony found a spark of energy, and his eyes popped open. Her face hovered inches from his. What took you so long? The words lay trapped in his throat, but comprehension flared in her tense smile.

  Desi gave a tiny laugh, but the sound came out sad. “I’ve always been with you. In here.” Her hand settled over his heart.

  Tony forced his arm up and dropped his hand over hers.

  The ten minutes passed too quickly, and the next few hours crawled by with doctor visits and the nurse tinkering with gadgets at his bedside. But at last that stupid hose came out of his throat, and he was wheeled to a room on a lower floor. Desi sat by his side. Clutching her pillow and blanket, she didn’t look ready to move soon. That suited him just fine.

  Exhaustion dragged his eyelids down. He faded into a fuzzy realm of sensory impressions—running feet, gunshots, cold, a figure slumped against a van, a body floating in gray water, the sound of his teeth chattering, a whiplash, then falling. And cold. Always cold. As if trapped in an ice cube. Tony groaned.

  Someone touched his face, his hair, murmuring words of comfort. Desi?

  “Co-o-old.” The groan came again.

  “I’ll warm you, darling.” A muted sob.

  The mattress shifted, and a soft, warm body snuggled next to him. A fresh blanket covered them both, and Desi settled her head on his shoulder. Her breath caressed his neck. The familiar, exotic scent of her hair filled his nostrils. Heaven had met earth at last.

  Normal, healthy sleep wrapped him in a silken cocoon.

  “I never thought I’d walk in on my son in bed with a woman not his wife!” The breathless voice jolted Tony to awareness. Mom?

  Ten

  Tony turned his head toward the door. His tall, sturdy mother stood there, smiling at him, but moisture shimmered in her dark eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted. “Yeah, you taught me better than that. Guess I’ll have to marry her now.” His words came out hoarse, but at least they didn’t sputter like a backfiring jalopy.

  His mother sniffed and stepped toward the bed. “You’ve got that much sense, anyway, Anthony Lucano. Maybe she can keep you from fool stunts like taking a dip in ice water.” She took his hand. For a woman, she had a mechanic’s grip. “Mio figlio caro.”

  Her murmur of “My beloved son” barely carried to his ears, but her love held him as if he were a babe in her arms again.

  Desi stirred and lifted her head. “Mrs. Lucano?”

  “You need to get used to calling me Mom, cara.”

  Desi sat up, the seam of Tony’s hospital gown imprinted on her cheek. She ran a hand across her bed-head. Her gaze stopped on the window where light seeped through the blinds. “Oh, my. It’s got to be midmorning. I only meant to warm you up, not sleep with you.”

  He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Man, it felt good to do something normal without concentrating for five minutes to make it happen. “We were perfect together.”

  She glanced at her future mother-in-law and went fire red. His mom laughed.

  Desi hopped off the bed and stuck her hands on her hips. “Tony Lucano, you’re awful. If you weren’t half dead, I’d smack you.”

  His mom laughed harder. “That’s the second scolding this young man has gotten this morning.”

  Tony shifted and groaned. “I’d rather get beat up by you two than whatever worked me over to land me here.”

  “You don’t remember what happened?” Desi laid a hand on his arm.

  “Bits and pieces. I mean, I know I was on a shipboard bust, but things get fuzzy after I chase some trigger-happy woman onto the deck. Something about gunshots, then falling and trying to swim my way out of the devils fish tank. Am I shot?”

  “No, caro.” His mother smoothed the hair on his brow. “They had to take out your spleen. How did the water bruise you so badly? The side of your face is black and blue.”

  “I’m bruised all over. No wonder I feel like day-old road kill.”

  “I’d say you have more reason than that.” The masculine voice came from the doorway. A big-boned man dressed in green scrubs walked in fingering the stethoscope around his neck.

&nb
sp; He nodded at the women, then fixed his gaze on Tony. “I’m Dr. Braniff, your attending physician when they brought you in. To be honest, I didn’t think Td come back to find you still breathing, much less awake and lucid. You are one lucky man.”

  Luck? Tony glanced at his mom. Wrong word to use around her.

  “Nothing chancy about it, Doctor Braniff,” she said. “And not entirely to do with your skill either, though I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  The doctor grinned. “You’re welcome. I think.” He scratched the side of his nearly bald head. The lines on his face and veins showing in his hands placed him in his sixties. “I’ve been doctoring long enough to know Someone other than me ultimately calls the shots.”

  “Sensible man.” She stuck out her hand. “Gina Lucano, the miracle boys mother.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Gina Lucano.”

  Tony narrowed his eyes. Did that handshake last a shade too long? And did his mother have extra color in her cheeks? Maybe he should go back to sleep and start this day over. Or maybe the week. Everything felt…weird.

  Brisk footsteps brought a nurse through the door. Not Nurse Claudia. The newcomer was young and pudgy and the color of cocoa. She carried a cloth-covered metal tray.

  “We need to do another round of blood work,” Dr. Braniff said, “and see where we’re at with kidney function, among other things. And I need to take a listen to those lungs. We suctioned a little ocean out of you, young man.” He glanced toward the women. “If you would excuse us, ladies?”

  “Of course.” Gina nodded. “Desi and I will wait down the hall.”

  “I’ll stop there before I go on with my rounds.”

  Tony turned his head in time to catch with his mouth the kiss Desi had aimed for his cheek. He grinned at her. She grinned back. Yep, he still had his reflexes, even though it hurt to use them. He’d be out of here in no time, back to work, or better yet, standing at the altar with the most fabulous female on the planet.

  The women left, and Tony turned his attention toward the doctor, who was staring at the chart with the name Lucano on the tab. He’d seen that kind of frown before and never liked what was said afterward. Unease bit his gut.