That trust sat heavy. Max had been through a lot. Enough to cure most people of trusting anybody.
The Texan pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I kept sayin’ to myself, ‘If I can get to Desi and Tony, everything will be all right.’ But that was silly.” Her green eyes dulled. “No one can fix this. It’s a family curse. I thought I’d ducked the disaster, but it got me. And now my niece has run off, leavin’ a baby … ” Max’s voice broke. “Her four-month-old son is without a mama, and her husband has no clue where his wife is.”
Tony frowned. Nice wad of information. But that “family curse” thing?
“Curse!” Desi plopped down beside Max. “What kind of hoodoo are you talking?”
“Oh, not some horror flick stuff.” The redhead slumped. “This thing is a bitter joke with us. We call our track record with marriage ‘the family curse.’ “
Tony narrowed his eyes. “The rate of failed marriages is around 50 percent. How far off is your family?”
“With my niece’s disappearance? Try 100 percent. Dean and I used to be an exception, but now I don’t have a marriage except in name. Everyone else is widowed or divorced, sometimes more than once. Same song, second verse, for generations.”
Tony whistled. If he were hot on a case, he’d call that consistency a strong chain of evidence. But evidence of what? He sat in a chair by the sofa. “Start from the beginning, and give us—”
“—the facts, ma’am, nothing but the facts.”
Tony shot her a look. Guys had a few “looks” in their arsenal, too. Desi clamped her mouth shut; Max gave a husky chuckle. The mood in the room lightened. Probably Desi’s intention. Smart lady.
The smile faded from Max’s face. “Here’s the scoop then.” She folded her hands on her lap like a witness on the stand. “I was in bed, and the phone rang around midnight. No problem. I wasn’t asleep. Not unusual these days.” Her gaze lowered. “But I wondered who’d call at that hour. Thought maybe it was you or Des, but it was my sister Jo from Albuquerque, bawlin’ her eyes out.” Max moaned. “I hurt so ba-a-ad for her.”
Okay, derail the tears and get back on track. “So Jo’s daughter is gone?”
“Right. Her name is Karen, Jo’s only child. I’ve prayed hard over that girl. She used to run with a rough crowd, an outlaw motorcycle gang. Then she met Brent Webb. He coaxed her to visit his church singles group. She found a new bunch of friends, broke away from the gang, put her life in the Lord’s hands, married Brent, and—”
“Wait just a New York second!” Desi sounded as confused as he felt. “Is this Dean’s brother Brent Webb?”
Max nodded.
“Your niece is married to your husband’s brother?” Desi’s voice rose a notch.
“It’s not illegal or immoral.” Max glared.
Desi shook her head. “No, but a tad on the odd side. How come you never told me?”
Max’s stiffness melted. “I meant to. You were out of the country on that Madrid job when this whirlwind romance grafted the family trees. By the time you got home, the elopement wasn’t at the top of my mind anymore. Then things got crazy with the FBI castin’ suspicions on HJ Securities about art theft and … ” Max shrugged.
Tony rubbed his chin. “You say your niece ran off, but you’ve also termed it a disappearance. Did your niece leave of her own accord, or is foul play suspected?”
“The police don’t know what to think. Karen’s purse is gone, but all her clothes are hangin’ in the closet. Their clunker of a second car is missin’, but the baby was still in his crib. How could any mother run off and leave her newborn alone in the house?”
No answer he cared to share on that one. He’d seen too much of the seamy side. “If she left on her own, why would she have done it? Do you blame yourself?”
Desi stared at him like he’d lost his mind, but tears flowed down Max’s face.
“You think the scandal about Dean wrecked your niece’s marriage.” He made his words a conclusion, not a question.
Max hugged herself. “I don’t know. Maybe our mess gave someone … ideas.” Her voice came out muddy “I can’t take this again.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “Maybe Dean’s family has a curse, too. Native American artifacts were stolen from the New Mexico Museum of Art and Anthropology, and a guard is in the hospital. Karen and Brent are suspects. She’s a receptionist, and he’s an archaeology graduate student interning at the museum. Her running off seems suspicious to the police. And if she didn’t run … if she was taken … it still looks as if she knew—”
A movement caught Tony’s eye, and shock jolted through him. He cut Max off with a lift of the hand and leaped to his feet. “President Curtis.”
Dressed as King Arthur, the lean, shrewd-eyed president of the United States stepped toward them. George Washington trailed at his heels, and Emperor Constantine strode behind. Flat-faced Secret Service agents took up posts by the door.
Max’s mouth hung open, and Desi’s eyes went huge. The women rose in slow motion.
“Agent Lucano. Miss Jacobs. Mrs. Webb.” The president’s gaze halted on Max, who looked like she’d be happy to melt into the upholstery.
Tony stuck out his hand. “Mr. President. It’s an honor.” Whatever salvo the commander in chief meant to fire, he’d take the first hit.
President Curtis returned a firm grip. “The honor is mine. Your quick thinking last June saved countless lives. Rick has breaking news about what al Khayr meant to try. He can take you aside and tell you.” He glanced at the FBI director and then at the women. “But now, I crave an audience with these fair ladies.” A weathered cheek creased into his trademark one-sided smile.
Max’s face went as bright as her hair. Desi flushed, but held out her hand, palm down. President Curtis chuckled and bowed over it.
Desi laughed. “Your costume wears you well, Mr. President.”
“Likewise, Ms. Jacobs.” Both sides of the president’s mouth lifted, a look not often seen in media appearances.
Tony’s chest filled. His Desi could charm the stripes off a zebra.
President Curtis studied her face. “So this is the woman who KO’d one of the most dangerous men in the world.”
Desi went as pink as Max.
“My Secret Service detail talked about little else for days.” The president leaned closer. “They think I don’t know what interests them beyond guarding me.” He shot a glance at the agents by the door. The barest ripple betrayed a reaction.
“And Maxine Webb.” The president took one of her hands and patted it. “I received a detailed report of the matter. You were wounded for your country. If I had an award to give for your valor and pain, you’d have it. Will you accept the thanks of a grateful nation?”
Max blinked like she was waking up. “Mr. President, I’m overwhelmed. Truly My shoulder doesn’t hurt a speck. Honest.” She rolled it back and forth. “But how can you say—I mean, you shouldn’t be thankin’ me. My hus—”
“I’m aware of your circumstances, Mrs. Webb. Like I said, you sustained loss in service to your country, and we’re indebted to your honesty and courage.”
As if a lifeline of oxygen flowed from the president’s grip, Max seemed to inflate. What was that change on her face?
Tony’s voting stance for the next election did a 180. He might not agree with some of this president’s positions, but only a great leader would take the time to return an ordinary citizen her self-respect on a silver platter.
“Now suppose you tell me what brought you here tonight.” The president spoke in that tone of warm command familiar from public broadcasts.
This should be good. Tony moved closer.
Max and Desi started to talk at once. They stopped, glanced at each other, and laughed.
From the corner of his eye, Tony caught a motion from Director Harcourt. Blast! He followed the director to a corner away from the women and the president.
“A major attack on this country has been stopped.” Harcourt kept his voic
e low. “Sarin gas was to have been released in the Manhattan subway system, with a simultaneous bombing at the Statue of Liberty. The attack would have happened last spring if you hadn’t caught Abu al Khayr.”
“I had a little help.” Tony jerked his chin toward Desi.
Harcourt smiled. “A resourceful helper.” His face sobered. “Al Khayr’s people are also resourceful. They regrouped and were poised to strike again. Fortunately, the delay gave us time to figure out their intentions and make arrests. The whole cell is now in custody.”
“Congratulations, Mr. Director.”
“You and I know it’s the street agents with their ears to the ground who make these things possible. I want you to sit on a panel to reorganize the Terrorist Activities Task Force. You’ll be sifting through personnel jackets, interviewing candidates, and evaluating operational procedures and communications interfaces. I need street agent input.”
Tony stared. A double-edged opportunity if he ever heard one.
Stuffed-shirt committees tended to find his ideas too off the wall. But could he pass up the chance to influence the way things were done in the Bureau? What about his current position as Squad Supervisor? No way did he want to be cooped up in a meeting room when he could direct operations in the field. And did this assignment mean he needed to leave Boston?
He glanced at Desi, half a room away. Could he stand to lose her because he’d been reassigned two states away? Would he kill his career to stay near the woman he loved?
Tony met Harcourt’s gaze. “What’s the time commitment? And will I need to relocate?”
“The panel convenes in two weeks. You meet here in Washington twice a month for six months, usually for a few days at a time, once in a while for a week straight. In between, you’ll receive material to study at your local office. There’s a cash bonus, but it’ll come out of your hide in effort outside your regular duties. Travel expenses provided. No one is required to relocate for this temporary assignment.”
He grinned at his superior. “Count me in.”
“I already did.” The man held out his hand. “Welcome aboard.” They shook.
A feminine laugh drew Tony’s eyes. He glanced over to see Desi chatting with the president of the United States. If she was nervous, it didn’t show. Must come from running a business that served kings and billionaires on a daily basis.
Harcourt tipped his head in her direction. “Delightful woman. I enjoyed meeting her. Our nation’s capital is a great place to live and work. Excellent atmosphere for business if she were to consider relocating … ” He paused and smiled. “Down the road, of course.”
Tony’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He watched the man return to the group near the president.
Desi leave Boston? Why would she …?
Oh! Heat crept up his neck. No promises, but a dangled carrot. Washington would be his dream post, but no, he didn’t want to move away from Desi. If it came to a choice, though, would she leave her home for him?
Tony’s hands fumbled for pockets but didn’t find any. Blasted robes. How did those Bible guys wear these things? He readjusted his braided cloth belt and joined the others.
Desi touched his arm when he came up beside her. Her eyes shone too bright. Something he wouldn’t like was going on in that head of hers. He hadn’t forgotten Max’s tidbit of information about the antiquities theft in Albuquerque. Irresistible bait for a Jacobs.
“Your family has my sympathies in the disappearance of your niece.” President Curtis narrowed his gaze at Max. “But I do have a rather fussy question. How exactly did you get into the White House this evening?”
The Texan colored. “I suppose it comes from hangin’ around Desi.”
Desi shot her friend a don’t-blame-me-for-this glare.
Max smirked. “Well, it did. What do you always say? Keep it simple and seize the moment. Those watchin’ for the devious will often miss the obvious. You taught me those things, and you got ‘em from your father.”
Desi lifted her hands. “Guilty as charged.”
Tony grinned. He could vouch for that confession.
Max’s freckled face turned serious. “I needed to see Desi and Tony. Thought maybe someone would radio inside and have my friends come out. But before I could get to the gate, a group of teenagers charged up the walk. One of them was the granddaughter you’re raisin’, Mr. President. She let me in … sort of.”
The president’s head jerked back. “Avery?”
“She didn’t know she did it, sir.” Max rushed on. “You know how a bunch of teen girls can act like a herd of green broke mustangs? They were laughin’ and jabberin’ and millin’ around until I’m half-dizzy watchin’. The gate opens, and they head for it. Avery grabs my shirtsleeve and pulls me along without givin’ me much of a look-see. She pokes this ID badge at me and says, ‘If they have to stick me with a Secret Service escort and a chaper-one for a walk to the convenience store, the least you can do is keep up and not drop your belongings.’ I took the badge and didn’t argue. It was dark, and I trailed on the fringes, huggin’ the shadows away from the security detail. They were watchin’ for threats from the outside anyway. Keepin’ order with the girls was supposed to be my job—er, the chaperone’s job.”
President Curtis shook his head and grimaced. “Sounds like my granddaughter. She was upset that we wouldn’t allow her to attend the masquerade, so we let her have friends over instead.” He cocked a silver brow at Max. “And how did you get into the ballroom? That’s as much of a feat as entering the building.”
“Piece of cake actually.” She grinned; Whitcomb/ Washington frowned. “We came into the White House through the kitchen, and when those girls saw all those goodies for the party, their eyes lit and they scattered like spooked quail, security detail scurryin’ to keep up. Nobody cared a hoot about me. I grabbed a server’s coat off a hook, clipped the badge to it, found a loaded cart, and played caboose at the end of a train headed for the ballroom. Didn’t catch a second glance from anybody. They must not have noticed my slippers.” She waggled a fuzzy foot. “Another Jacobs maxim—if you act like you know what you’re doin’, people will think you do and leave you alone.”
President Curtis snorted a laugh. Desi clapped a hand over her mouth. Director Harcourt chuckled and stared at the floor. The aide went bug-eyed. Tony battled down a guffaw. Desi was a matchless original, but her best friend was the flip side of that rare coin. Look out planet earth!
“1 do feel kinda bad about something.” Max looked down. “That other poofy-haired redhead must be stuck outside the gate, and your granddaughter is minus a chaperone.”
The president turned toward his aide.
Whitcomb/Washington nodded. “Mrs. Webb’s story checks out. Ms. Parkins lost her pass during the impromptu excursion. Her story wasn’t believed when she presented herself at the gate, so no alarm was raised about an imposter chaperone. I’ve vouched for her now, and she’s been reunited with her charges.”
The lines in the president’s face relaxed. “Then I believe this incident can be put behind us. Please consider yourself invited to stay, Mrs. Webb, and enjoy the hospitality of my home.”
“Call me Max, Mr. President. And I’m honored by the invitation, but—”
“Max and I have a job to finish tonight.”
Tony frowned at Desi’s interruption.
“We need to be on a plane to Albuquerque in the morning. Her sister needs her.” Desi nodded at Max.
His gut did a dive. Sure, Max needed to go to her sister, but why did Desi have to go along? If she thought she was going to interfere in a missing persons investigation, or more likely, throw herself onto the trail of thieves who had already put someone in the hospital—
He tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t spare him a glance.
President Curtis nodded. “Understandable.” He turned to the aide. “Order one of the limousines. Tell the driver to take his passengers wherever they want to go.”
“I’ll es
cort them to their hotel,” Tony said through a rigid jaw
The dismal truth hit him.
Unless he and Desi worked out a healthy balance between his need to keep her safe and her compulsion to take risks for a cause, it wouldn’t matter where he was assigned. They wouldn’t be together.
Three
Might as well be a hearse, not a limousine. Desi breathed in the scent of fine leather and looked around the darkened vehicle. On the opposite passenger bench, her back to the driver, Max brooded in silence. Tony shared Desi’s seat, but occupied the far end of the bench. She studied his wooden profile.
Something was eating him, but as usual, he was Mr. Sphinx. “You didn’t have to leave the party because Max and I needed to go.”
“That’s not it.” Tony turned toward her, face oddly pale under the passing streetlights. “Max should go take care of her sister, but why you? There’s more to this story.”
“Don’t look at me like I’m a suspect in a crime.”
Max jerked as if startled. “He’s right, Des. You’re up to your neck at the office. You don’t need to babysit me.”
“He’s wrong, and it’s not babysitting to support a friend in a crisis. I’m happy to avoid my paperwork for another couple of days, and Tony’ll be glad for the time to catch up on his own work.”
Tony leaned forward. “I’m right here, ladies. Talk to me not about me.”
Desi glared at him. “It so happens you’re right. I do have a secondary reason for going to Albuquerque.” She turned to her friend. “But you’re the priority.”
Max gasped. “Oh dear, I forgot! HJ Securities provides the protection for the New Mexico Museum. And my niece and nephew are suspects in the robbery. Des, I’m so sorry. This puts the company in a bad spot.”
Desi shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll get there and find out that the Denver branch has everything under control. They’re primaries on this. I’m just the meddling boss coming to breathe down their necks.”
Reluctant Runaway Page 3
