Reluctant Smuggler

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her shaking back. Man, those sobs hurt his heart worse than the rest of him. He’d let her get the waterworks out of her system, and then maybe they could figure out the cause. That might take some doing, because he’d have to turn in his badge on this one. He hadn’t a clue.

  Gradually, her trembling eased, and the sobs became little hiccups. Her body relaxed against him. Warmth spread through Tony as his own muscles unwound and discomfort faded.

  “Des?” He looked down past his nose to the dainty head resting on his shoulder. Dark lashes fanned against her damp cheek. Her full lips were slightly parted. Babe in slumber land. Probably just what she needed. All right, discussion could wait. And was that the cutest mini-snore in the universe? He could sleep next to this for the rest of his life, no problem.

  Tony smiled and laid his head back. His eyes drifted shut.

  “Good heavens! I can’t leave you two alone for a minute.”

  Gina’s voice drew Desi from a warm, welcoming place. She stirred, and a groan sounded from the chest beneath her ear. Tony! With a gasp, she sat up straight, staring into his startled face only inches from hers.

  He hissed in a breath. “Gently, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, Tony, I’m so sorry.” She slipped off his lap. “What was I thinking?”

  “I don’t think thinking was involved.” He grinned up at her, then shifted into a different position and grimaced.

  Gina laughed, and heat crawled up Desi’s neck. She rubbed her eyes and found her cheeks crusty from tears. “I’m a menace as a nursemaid. I should be fired.”

  “Sorry, babe.” Tony chuckled. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with the job. I won’t allow anyone else to do my close personal therapy.”

  Gina set her purse and Bible on the coffee table. “I should certainly hope not, giovanotto. Have you two managed to set a date yet? I bought my mother-of-the-bride-and-groom dress a month ago, and every day it begs to be worn.”

  Desi stared at her feet. How did she explain to this adorable mom-in-law-to-be that some mysterious emotional malady was plaguing the woman who wanted to marry her son?

  “You’d better hang that dress in the back of the closet for a while,” Tony said. “I’ve got a ways to go before I’m husband material. Weeks, probably months, of physical training to regain my fitness levels, and then—”

  “Idiota!” Ginz flash-fried her son with a glare, then wagged a finger in his face. “Of all the ridiculous statements I’ve heard from your mouth. The standards of the FBI do not dictate your family life. Many women are happily married to men who couldn’t pass a single bureau training test.”

  “But—”

  “There is no ‘but,’ except in your head.”

  Desi clapped her hands. “Brava, mia madre. But the problem isn’t so much with Tony as with me.”

  Gina’s eyes widened. “You! All of a sudden you do not wish to marry—”

  “Of course I wish. The sooner the better, if I could get past some stupid hang-up I can’t even figure out myself.”

  “Hmm.” The woman leveled an assessing gaze. “Come.” She motioned toward the upstairs. “You and I will have il discorso franco—the heart-to-heart talk.” She swept toward the foyer, sucking Desi in her wake.

  “But Tony—”

  “Is a big boy who knows how to use the remote control.”

  The bell rang as they passed the front door. Desi peeked out the diamond of beveled glass. Steve Crane stood there, cheeks bitten red with the cold. Someone to sit with Tony, anyway. She opened the door, and Crane entered with a rush of frigid air.

  “Brrrr!” A shiver shook his big body. “Here.” He thrust a box toward Desi. “Lana made cookies and insisted I bring some over for our prize patient. Never mind it’s twenty below with the windchill.”

  Desi pointed to the living room. “Take them in to him. There’s hot coffee in the pot. Pig out, you two. Gina—er, Mom and I are going to have a discorso franco.”

  “A what?”

  She left him staring after them as she followed a chuckling Gina up the stairs. Tony’s mom went straight to the kitchen and filled the teakettle. She pointed Desi toward the table. “So you are a watering pot these days, eh?”

  Desi sat and shoved a stray toast crumb around on the tabletop. “Must be hormones or something, but I can’t be PMSing all the time, and I’m too young for menopause.”

  “Praise the Lord for that. I expect grandbabies before I’m too old to enjoy them.”

  “We’re on the same page about children. Tony and I won’t wait long after we’re married. We’re seasoned adults, not a couple of kids just starting out, and we’re not getting any younger.”

  “Very sensible.” Gina pulled mugs from the cupboard and plunked tea bags into them.

  “If we can just get those ‘I do’s’ said. But things keep cropping up to put on the brakes.”

  “I am not surprised. The enemy of our souls cannot favor such a powerful union.” Gina leaned a hip against the counter. “But I also think you both have baggage best dealt with. Tony must see himself as more than his job, and you must give yourself permission to grieve.”

  “About Daddy, you mean? But I’ve cried a bucket, and I’m tired ofit.”

  “You never talk about him.”

  “But I think about him,”

  “Not the same thing.”

  Desi swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I’m afraid if I talk, I’ll cry.”

  “You’re crying anyway.”

  A laugh loosened Desi’s vocal cords. “Ouch! Direct hit.”

  The teakettle sang, and Gina poured hot water into the mugs. She set the steeping tea on the table and sat down.

  An orange tang wafted to Desi’s nostrils. Staring into the darkening water, she rubbed the handle of her mug. “I don’t want to burden people with my emotional outbursts.”

  “People, no. Your friends, yes. If you dont, you deny the ones who love you and Hiram the right to grieve with you…and to celebrate the life that was here and now continues on the other side. You might surprise yourself with laughter more than tears if you open up. You have many good memories, no?”

  “I have many great memories. Yes!” She chewed her bottom lip. “There’s just one thing I can’t get past.”

  “What is it, mia figlia?”

  Desi carried her mug to the counter and tossed the wet tea bag into the sink. “I have this perfect wedding pictured in my mind. A gossamer veil mists my vision as I await my entrance gowned in satin. The church is scented with bouquets of enormous stargazer lilies and bright red roses. Traditional, but I love it. All our friends beam for joy. Tony, too handsome for words in his black tux, watches for me, drawing me with his eyes. The majestic strains of ‘The Wedding March’ reach my ears. And then…” Her breath caught. “I can’t finish the fantasy.” Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if I can walk up that aisle alone. Not without bursting into tears, and I can’t do that to Tony on our special day.”

  She stared out the kitchen window into the glittering cold. “Maybe that’s why I shop the boutiques and browse the Internet and can’t settle on a wedding dress. We should put the ceremony off indefinitely. I could get into counseling and—”

  Strong hands pulled her around. Gina’s brown gaze probed deep. “Is that what you really want? To wait?”

  Mutely, Desi’s hook her head.

  “Then maybe it’s better if you make plans and move ahead despite your fears. Do you think perhaps this is what your father would approve?”

  “I have no doubt. But this time you and Daddy may be putting too much confidence in a woman who has reached the end of her strength.”

  Gina patted Desi’s cheek. “Then you are in the best position possible to receive all the grace you will need.”

  Grace. She’d appreciate a truckload of it. But it would probably take a smack with a two-by-four to convince Tony he didn’t need to be Superman to be her man.

  Six
teen

  Tony chomped a bite out of another chocolate-chip cookie. He waved the remainder at Stevo. “You are going to get fat, my friend. Lana can bake up a storm.”

  The guy polished off his third cookie. “Poor me.” He grinned. “She does all kinds of Susie-homemaker stuff. She knitted me that scarf.” He pointed toward the length of blue wool draped over his coat on the back of an empty chair. “So, you about ready to start training?”

  Tony scowled. “The doctor says another four weeks before I can even jog again.”

  Stevo shook his head. “You’re gonna go stir-crazy.”

  “Tell me about it I do a stress test in three weeks. If the old ticker checks out okay, I can start walking on the treadmill. No weightlifting, though, until further notice.”

  “Not to worry, paid. As soon as you get the go-ahead, I’ll take over your training. Rocky had Mickey, and you’ve got the evil Stevo to whip you into shape.”

  Tony snorted a laugh. “I can hardly wait.”

  “It’s a dirty job, and probably thankless as all get-out, but just call me a sucker. I’m volunteering.” The burly man snitched another cookie out of the box. “A little advance fortification.” He took a bite. “We’ve got to get you strong enough,” he said with his mouth full, “to stand in front of a preacher and live through a honeymoon.”

  Tony groaned. “I suppose Max and Lana told you there’ll be a wedding soon. Take advantage of my leave of absence and all that.”

  Stevo shrugged. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  “I can’t believe you said that.” Tony’s spine stiffened. “Of all people, I figured you’d get it. I need to know my jobs secure first.”

  “Sure. A guy’s got to support his family. Or at least contribute to the support.”

  “Finally, someone who understands.” His back muscles loosened.

  “Sure.” Steve polished off the cookie. “But what’s that got to do with grabbing a great girl like Desi while the grabbing is good? Unless you think God’s gonna bring you this far and then leave you high and dry on the career part.”

  Tony opened his mouth, but his mind drew a blank. Breath stalled in his lungs as he stared into the other man’s blocky face. The guy expected an answer. What could he say? Yeah, Stevo, God’s done wonders so far, but there’s a limit to what He can do. Stupid statement, and false too. But wasn’t he thinking and acting like he was on his own to save his job?

  He sank back in his seat, laughing. “I just got my faith chops busted by a guy who didn’t want God’s name mentioned around him a few months ago.”

  Stevo turned the color of rare steak, but he grinned. “Hey, I dig in my heels about some stuff, but once I let loose of the brakes, watch out!”

  “Does that mean you and the Big Guy are on speaking terms now?”

  Tony’s ex-partner sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Better than that, I’d say.”

  Tony whooped and pumped a fist.

  “Keep it down, would ya?” Stevo’s mouth scowled, but his eyes didn’t. “Now are you going to quit being a knot-head and get married already?”

  “Seems you and your new Best Friend don’t give me much choice.” A warm awareness settled deep in Tony’s gut. He’d missed the trail on the marriage thing for staring at the forest. “You’re looking at a reformed knot-head.”

  A thrill exploded in his chest. He was going to make Desiree his wife as soon as possible. Heel have the right to wake up beside her every morning, slip between the sheets with her at night, help her anytime with pesky zippers or buttons… Chill, ragozzo! Better not follow that thought any further right now, but if the role of husband didn’t give him motivation to regain his strength, nothing would—not even his career with the FBI.

  Steve grinned like he was reading Tony’s mind. Not a tough puzzle for any card-carrying member of the male gender.

  Tony glared. “So what about you and Lana?”

  Stevo stretched his arms wide and yawned. I’ll get around to it, but I need to rest up first. Maybe now I can sleep all night without spending half of it talking to God about you.”

  “Thanks. I mean that, and not for just now. You helped pull me through in a lot of ways you probably don’t know.”

  “You did it for me not that long ago. I figure a little turnabout’s fair play, so don’t go around thinking you owe me something.”

  Tony laughed. Now that was the growly ex-partner he knew. “Then I guess I might as well make you mad and warn you a tux rental’s in your immediate future.”

  “What?” The guy snorted. “You’ve got me down as usher?”

  “Nothing that easy. You’ll have my back as guardian of the wedding ring. Think you can handle the assignment?”

  Stevo’s mouth flopped open, and his eyes blinked like camera shutters. “But what about the guys on your active squad? I figured—”

  “Don’t try to wiggle out of it, Crane. I’ll find something for the others to do. Can’t have them slacking off like they’re retired or something.”

  Stevo’s brows snapped together in a glower that didn’t quite work because of his eye blinks. “You’re skating on thin ice, Lucano.” The guy sounded like something had pinched his windpipe. “I’d better give Lana and Max the news.” He leaped up and grabbed his coat and scarf.

  “I’ll call you with the date.” Tony stifled the laugh that was aching to pop out.

  “You do that.” Stevo gave a backward wave on his way to the foyer.

  Tony scooted to the edge of the recliner and stood. He couldn’t let the guy get out the door that easily. This was too much fun. “Tell Lana thanks for the cookies.” He caught up to Steve as he shrugged into his coat by the front door.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs that led to Desi’s apartment. She appeared on the bottom landing, cheeks flushed, lips parted. His mother hovered behind her, expression stern.

  He answered with a slow smile fixed on Desiree. “You two been praying up there?”

  Des shook her head. “More like hoping. We’d—I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Back at ya.” He took a step toward her. “How does eight weeks from Saturday sound?”

  Desi shrieked. His mother mouthed, “Finally!” Tony opened his arms, and softness came into them. He captured the only pair of lips he needed to taste.

  “I gotta get out of here.” Stevo’s voice came out half an octave too high.

  The door opened and closed, and a wave of chill entered the hall, but Tony didn’t even shiver. Too much warmth radiated from the inside out.

  Late that night, after much discussion and umpteen phone calls, Desi fell asleep with the memory of Tony’s lips on hers and wishing she could hear him breathing beside her now. When she awoke, sunlight trickled into her bedroom around the edges of the blinds. Her mind was alert, but she lay still beneath the thick quilt. What was different about today?

  The wedding was on. That knowledge edged her awareness with anticipation. But another positive change clamored to be recognized. What? She unwound her body from a sleep curl with a luxurious stretch from the tips of her fingers to her ends of her toes. Today would be a good day. Ideas bubbled beneath the surface, eager for action.

  Desi sat up. That was the difference! The heaviness that had hung on her like a leaden mande had eased. The feeling hadn’t disappeared, but it had faded to more of an unpleasant memory than an immediate presence. She got out of bed. The first order of business was—

  Deal with the Greybecks.

  She halted her trek toward the bathroom. Where had that thought come from? She must have been busy on the inside while she slept. A hot shower might draw specifics to the surface.

  The shower helped, but she continued to mull details while she fixed herself tea and toast. Gina was planning to give Tony breakfast. In fact, Gina’d have to keep Tony company today. Time for the boss to sweep into HJ Securities headquarters and call a council of war.

  Two hours later, Desi’s tood at the head of the table in the HJ Securities confe
rence room. Ten faces stared back at her, including Max’s freckled one. The redhead wore a grin the size of her home state of Texas.

  Desi laid a folder on the table. “I know Max thinks I’ve called you together to announce my wedding scheduled for eight weeks from Saturday, and she’s right. You’re all invited.”

  Applause erupted amid laughter and calls of “It’s about time.”

  Desi basked in the excitement, then motioned for quiet. “My real purpose in calling you together is to outline a change in course for HJ Securities.” All faces sobered. “We’ve been taking a hit from skewed media reports and the rumor mill.” People nodded amid scattered grumbles of “rotten Greybecks.” Desi’s miled. “That’s about to come to a screeching halt.

  “Scott.” She nodded at the grizzled public relations veteran seated across from Max. “Traditionally, we’ve confined our advertising to trade publications that reach the kinds of clients we serve. But in today’s business climate, we need to expand publicity efforts to touch a more universal market. Let’s position ourselves as the people-friendly security company—not just for the rich, but concerned about Joe Citizen and his safety in his own home.”

  Glances were exchanged around the table.

  Regan, the CFO, frowned and scratched her ear. “You’re talking considerable expenditure and an addition of manpower if were going to start installing security systems in private middle-class homes.”

  Desi shook her head. “I’m not talking about changing our service demographic, just elevating public perception. I want us to take out one week of ads for HJ Securities in every newspaper and any other media that have published or broadcast negative reports, and I want to include some of the great statistics we’ve kept in-house so far.”

  She tapped the folder on the table. “The material is in here. For instance, a few months ago, I told the administrator of a robbed museum that in the last decade no institution we’ve served has suffered loss due to HJ Securities systems or operations failure. One hundred percent of the time, losses have occurred because of human error or dishonesty. He didn’t want to hear that and fired us. Later, when his own secretary was arrested as an accomplice, he resigned, and the new administrator rehired us with the unanimous support of the board of directors.”