Under The Desert Moon (Desert Sky Series Book 2)

by Mary Tate Engels

  "Brett, I... I'm—" After a couple of ragged false starts, Annie took a deep breath and proceeded quickly. "Yes, I'm harboring refugees from Nicaragua. They hid on my farm, waiting on an additional member of their party, Carmen's husband and Isabel's son. He has been delayed somewhere along the way, probably in Mexico. Their connection was broken and never completed. Then these women got sick. They needed help. And I agreed to see what I could do. I didn't expect them to stay this long, but. . . here they are." She ended with a helpless shrug.

  Brett listened to her rapid-fire spiel in stone silence. His dark eyes were expressionless. His chin became set. It had been a rambling rush of words, intended to manipulate his feelings by invoking his trust and understanding. He had heard such confessions before. Manipulation was his first thought.

  When she finally hushed, he asked, "Why now, Annie? Why are you telling me this now? Why not earlier? Why tell me at all?"

  "Because you saw them. And you're angry. I wanted to explain my position."

  "I just want some answers. The right answers."

  "I don't like the idea of keeping secrets from you, Brett. That isn't my way. Surely you know that by now. I want you to know what I'm doing. And why. I want you to understand."

  "What I can understand is your agitation at finding illegals on your property. And what I can do about that is to make a single phone call and have them picked up. I can get them out of your hair."

  She hadn't expected this reaction at all. She seized his arm with a frantic grip. "No, you can't do that, Brett!"

  "I will see that you aren't involved. We'll just take them—"

  "No! Brett, you mustn't do that! Don't you dare." Panic flooded through her and hot tears stung her eyes. She hadn't expected such a coldhearted solution from Brett, the man she loved. She expected him to understand, to back off, or to offer solutions. "These women are refugees. They'll lose their family connection. They'll be killed if you send them back."

  "Sounds like they've convinced you of that."

  "I believe them, Brett." Her heart pounded solidly inside her breast. "I'm already involved with these people, like it or not. I've taken them to the doctor. Dr. Theresa knows about them."

  "But when you became involved, you didn't know their status?"

  She nodded slowly, reluctantly admitting full guilt. "Yes, I did. And I've continued to harbor them for their safety."

  His eyes shot dark daggers as his anger exploded. "Annie, that was really stupid of you to get involved!"

  "Isabel was quite sick from undiagnosed diabetes. She was a woman in great need, and I couldn't turn my back on her." Annie squared her shoulders proudly. There was no regret in her words. "I gave her safe harbor. And Diego gave up his room for them."

  "So the two of you have collaborated on this?"

  "We have helped them and we kept the secret between us."

  "So you have two Nicaraguan women here. One has diabetes. The other one is... pregnant. Do you know what that means?"

  Annie nodded. "Yes."

  Brett shook his head in dismay. "No, I don't think you do. Annie, you are in deep trouble. They have to go!"

  "And they will, too. As soon as Carmen's husband gets here."

  "Now! Tonight!"

  "Absolutely not! They have nowhere to go. They have no one. No one but Diego and me."

  "So you're admitting that you're giving illegals sanctuary. You refuse to turn them in. You refuse to back away and let me pick them up and send them back home where they belong."

  "Yes."

  "Why, Annie? This could ruin your business, everything you've worked for during the last three years."

  "I don't care. I'm all they have. They trust me. And I won't break that trust."

  He walked away and stood at the door with his back to her. "I trusted you, too, Annie."

  "That's why I couldn't continue this lie. I want you to trust me. Support me." She approached him and touched one arm. "I guess I'm not as sweet and innocent as you think."

  "I almost wish you'd continued the lie. I liked you better not knowing all this."

  "I'm sorry, Brett. I'd hoped you'd understand the truth."

  "Do you fully appreciate my position here?"

  "I know I've put you in a bad position."

  "Bad? It's hellish!" He reached for the door.

  She followed. "Brett, what are you going to do?"

  "I didn't promise anything, Annie. To you or to your illegals."

  "Don't do anything, Brett! Please, just stay out of it!"

  "How can I?"

  She tried to cling to his arm, but he broke free and left her alone. Alone... except for her refugees. Her innocent victims. Her wards. Even as Brett turned his back on her, she couldn't abandon them now. A little voice deep inside her insisted that she was right.

  And another voice said she was a fool.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Annie shivered and pulled the shawl Brett had bought her at the Mariachi Especial in Tucson tighter around her shoulders. She had spent a miserable, sleepless night after Brett left so abruptly. Dawn found her at the special place where she worked out so many of her problems. The old mission.

  "What am I going to do now, Aunt Annalee?" she murmured half aloud.

  She left her shivering dog in the 4Runner and made her way through the weeds to the mission ruins. The new morning light reflected pale pink on the old bricks, giving it an eerie glow.

  "I've ruined everything with Brett," she continued. "I thought I was doing the right thing by telling him about my refugees. But he was so furious last night, there's no way of knowing exactly what he'll do. He's law and order, through and through. He'll probably report them today. Report me, too."

  She walked around one of the crumbling walls to the place where she first found the refugees hiding. "And I'm sure that all this will put an end to our relationship. He's too rigid in his beliefs." She kicked at a clump of grass. "And so am I."

  Annie waited, listening, watching, and hoping for a sign.

  Silence.

  Frustrated, Annie lashed out at the invisible spirits of the mission. "Didn't you tell me to help them in the beginning? Well, I did. And now look where it got me. In big trouble! You know, I could be arrested for this!" She paused and chuckled bitterly. "In fact, Brett could arrest me. Wouldn't that be a nice twist. Arresting the woman he made love to over the weekend."

  She walked through the empty center of the old mission. It wasn't hard to imagine rows of benches where people sat to worship. And the section that would have been the church altar. A circle of bricks revealed a blackened area and small bits of charcoaled wood, proof of a recent fire. People were still using this old mission as a santuario.

  Sanctuario. She heard the word as it whispered on the wind, spilling over the bricks.

  She remembered when she was a child, a prison escapee had hidden out in a nearby church. He held officers at bay for three days until he finally decided to give up. The minute he emerged from the building, the lawmen surrounded him with guns. When she asked why the sheriff didn't just go inside after him, Aunt Annalee had explained that a church, or any holy place, traditionally constituted a sanctuary and immunity from arrest.

  Which is exactly what Isabel and Carmen had done.

  And since the santuario was on Annie's property, what was so wrong about her allowing their immunity?

  With renewed defense and a determined gleam in her eyes, Annie walked back to her 4-Runner. She headed directly for Brett's house. She approached the door and mustered her courage and knocked, knowing that anything and everything she said could be used against her in a court of law. Would he actually do that? What a terrible thing to consider about the man she loved.

  Brett opened the door, looking about as disheveled as she had ever seen him. Darkly devastating eyes, red rimmed. Usually neat black hair, a mess. Square, ordinarily clean-shaven chin, darkly shadowed with bristle. At first she thought she had awakened him. Then she smelled coffee and realized that
he was probably as agitated as she over this—and had probably spent a restless a night, too.

  That, she decided, was some consolation. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn't reported her to the authorities yet. And she still had a chance to plead her case with him.

  As she stood for a brief but seemingly endless moment, silently gazing at this man who could destroy her, Annie was stricken with the singular thought that he was truly wonderful and that, amazingly, she loved him. Still.

  She wondered—crazily—if she would still love him if he arrested her. A part of her wanted to reach out and take his hands, to kiss his lips, to feel his strong, comforting arms around her. But that was nonsense. She was letting emotions squeeze into a grave situation where they had no place.

  "Brett, I just want you to know that. . . I love you."

  "Annie—" Brett took a ragged breath at the compelling sight of her dressed in jeans and clutching that beautiful shawl he had bought her just two days ago. He recalled making love to her, wrapping her naked body in that very shawl. Oh, how he ached to hold her again, to spread his fingers through her hair. He yearned to crush her to him and protect her from this bizarre situation, to assure her that everything would be all right. But he couldn't.

  He was too damn stubborn. He had known she wouldn't give up her principles without a fight. Not Annie. But then, neither would he.

  "Annie, come in. Coffee?" He sounded as if nothing unusual had happened.

  "Yes, thanks." She sat at the table, lacing her fingers, waiting for him to pour and serve the coffee. She hooked her hands around the steaming cup he placed before her and waited until he took a chair. "Brett, I'm here to ask you—to beg, if necessary—to leave my refugees alone. They'll be gone soon, out of your life and mine. I promise."

  He pressed his lips together grimly. She obviously hadn't budged in her opinion. "Your refugees?"

  "I guess at this point I feel a little possessive. Their problems have become my problems."

  "Only because you've made them yours."

  "I couldn't turn these people away. Right or wrong, I just couldn't, Brett."

  "And you're asking me to look the other way, too."

  She nodded. "Is it too much to ask? We're more than neighbors, aren't we? More than friends?"

  He licked his lips and turned his head, avoiding those dagger-sharp brown eyes of hers. Why couldn't he just take charge here, the way he'd always been able to do before? Just tell her! Right is right and wrong is... not okay, even for her, especially for him.

  "Yes, of course we're more than..." He paused to take a deep breath. "We're lovers, for God's sake! We're close, damn close. I care for you, Annie, about what happens to you."

  "Then why can't you do as I ask, just this once?"

  "Come on, Annie. How would it look for a college professor teaching ethics and criminology, someone who's ex-FBI and now a special agent for the sheriff's department to be aware of illegals living here?"

  "But they're refugees, not illegals! There's a big difference!"

  "Not in the eyes of the law. Nor to me. Annie, I could lose all my jobs. My credibility. This constitutes accomplice."

  "No one will ever know."

  "Aggh!" He dropped his fist on the table. "I cannot live a lie."

  "Don't you believe in the old custom of sanctuary, Brett? It's long been traditional in these parts that people are safe in a church."

  "That's ridiculous. There's not church."

  "Are you saying that some traditions aren't worth saving?"

  He paused. "Maybe."

  "So, in your selective opinion, certain songs and dances are worth saving as entertainment, but traditions that assist people, that save their lives, should be discarded."

  "Annie—" He halted, frustrated with the futility of this argument. She was so damned distracting, he just wanted to grab her up in his arms. Softening his voice, he persisted. "Annie, my dear, your back shed is no church."

  "No, but the mission ruin is. Or was. And that's where they first sought sanctuary. In fact, their plan was to move on swiftly, not to stay. But they ran into problems beyond their control."

  "Legally, they cannot stay. And you are subject to federal prosecution by harboring them."

  "I know a little about laws, too, Brett," she countered. "According to the Refugee Act, people who are in fear of their lives can seek asylum in this country."

  "The question then becomes whether they actually are in fear of their lives."

  "They claim they are. And I believe them." Her dark eyes narrowed in her intense fervor. "The problem seems to be coming from our government's perception that these people's lives are not in danger. While their own perception is that they're fleeing for their lives."

  He sighed and looked away. Then back to her with a softening around his mouth. "You may have a point, Annie. But are you prepared to take on the federal government?"

  "I hope it won't come to that. Please, Brett, before you close your mind completely, come with me to meet them."

  "Meet them? What makes you think I have any desire to meet them?"

  She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "I know you aren't so cold that you don't think of the people affected by the laws you enforce."

  He scoffed and glanced down at her slender hand, pale against his, looking much weaker and smaller. Yet, with her powerful energy and control, she could rule him. Maybe... maybe she had a point worth reviewing.

  She could see his hesitation and hurried on with her reasoning. "Isabel and Carmen are real people. They're ordinary, average women, good people. When you meet them, you'll see why I care about them." She leaned forward earnestly and surrounded his hand with both of hers. "Oh, Brett, I'm talking about somebody's mother and someone's wife who's going to have a baby soon. And she doesn't know where her husband is—or even if he's alive. Can't you empathize with them?"

  "Annie, you are such a softhearted person, it's amazing that you don't get pushed over every day. But to show you that my heart isn't made entirely of stone, the way you seem to think it is, I'll go with you."

  Instantly she was on her feet, rushing to embrace him. "I knew you would," she murmured against his chest. "I knew you would!"

  "I haven't agreed to anything, Annie. Just to meet them."

  "I know." She smiled up at him. "That's enough."

  He cupped her face with both hands. "You are quite persuasive."

  "I hoped you couldn't refuse me, Brett."

  "That's my biggest problem, Annie. I can't refuse you." His claim melted into a kiss that extended into a five minute blending of lips and tongues and hearts.

  When he finally tore himself away from her and went to get his boots, Brett chastised himself for allowing her hope. He knew her scheme. She was using her feminine power over his weakness for her. Annie was banking on the possibility that he couldn't look these women in the eyes and send them back where they came from. Well, she was wrong. He had worked undercover. He had made friends with the worst and the best—and turned around and arrested them when the line of the law was crossed.

  By the time they arrived back at Annie's, Isabel and Carmen were returning from breakfast in the big house. Diego was with them, as he sometimes joined them for the early meal. When he saw Annie lead Brett into the shed, he dropped back and headed for the nearest orchard.

  "Isabel, this is my friend, Brett Meyer," Annie said, pulling Brett forward. "Brett, this is Isabel."

  Brett took her hand. "Mi gusto, my pleasure."

  Isabel hid an embarrassed grin behind her hand, for it was obvious that she recognized him as the man she had seen nude in Annie's kitchen.

  "And this is Carmen." Annie put an arm around Carmen's shoulders. "This is my friend, Brett Meyer."

  Carmen stiffened when she saw him and heard his name. Her dark eyes shifted quickly to Annie. "Is he the one who is worse than the border patrol?"

  Brett cleared his throat and glared at Annie.

  "No, Carmen," Annie assured her. "No
worse. Brett is my friend. And he may be able to help us."

  Carmen's demeanor changed visibly. She smiled hopefully at Brett. "Yes? You could help? Maybe you can find my Thomas. We believe he is somewhere in Mexico."

  "I don't know about that." He cast a furious glance at Annie and pulled her aside. "I did not say I would help do anything like this," he muttered in a loud whisper.

  She patted his hand. "I know. But Thomas is missing. And look at poor Carmen. She's desperate, and so am I. If anyone could find him, you could, Brett."

  "Wrong, Annie! I have no intention of searching for an illegal Nicaraguan in Mexico!"

  Annie quieted him with a frown and a little shh-shh. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, I'd like you to get to know Isabel and Carmen." She pulled him back to the women. "Please, senores, tell my friend a little about your life back home. And what circumstances made you come here."

  Isabel sat in a small rocker in the corner and nervously picked up her embroidery handwork. "We had homes. And a big rancho. They killed my husband and took over our business. We had to run for our lives." She began to rock furiously.

  Annie sat beside Isabel on a little stool and patted her hands. "We're sorry to hear about your husband, Isabel."

  "They would have killed my Thomas, too," Carmen added angrily, "if he did not hide like a criminal. That is how we became separated. We ran like chickens. And Thomas..." She shook her head. "He had to stay hidden. But someone was to bring him here. We pay mucho dinero, but he is not here yet. And we do not know where he is." She gestured skyward, then sat heavily in another chair, cupping her hands protectively around her swollen belly.