The Marcelli Bride

by Susan Mallery

  “No, Tessa, that’s not what they teach me,” he said as he bent down to gather her close. Too late he remembered her need to pinch every cheek in range. Her forefinger and thumb closed over his skin with enough strength to snap steel. He might have survived a gunshot wound and a couple of knife fights, but man, could she make him wince.

  “Let me look at you,” she said, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him into the kitchen. “The government has sent people here. They talk to us and ask questions. They say we need clearance, but they won’t say for what.” She humphed. “As if we would be a danger to anyone. Now.”

  She stopped in the center of the kitchen and studied him from head to toe. Her dark eyes missed nothing as she frowned and poked him in the stomach. “You’re not eating enough. You look skinny.”

  “I weigh exactly the same as I did the last time I was here,” he told her.

  “You were too skinny then, too. All that exercise. It’s not good for you. I’m going to feed you while you’re here. You’ll eat good food. What do you have at the place you live? Junk food? A man your age on his own. It’s not a good thing.” Her expression softened as she took his hand in hers and rubbed his fingers. “Joseph, you need to be married, eh? A wife would know how to take care of you.”

  It was a familiar conversation, one he refused to participate in. “Who else is at the hacienda?” he asked.

  Grandma Tessa narrowed her gaze. “Your mother and Lorenzo. They’ll be here in a few minutes. So what is this all about?”

  Just then Colleen Marcelli walked into the kitchen. She was a well-dressed, petite woman a year or so shy of fifty. Her stylish clothes and unlined face made her look much younger, but Joe could do the math. He’d just turned thirty-three, which meant Colleen had had him when she was still in high school.

  “Joe,” she breathed when she saw him. Her expression blended hope and longing in a painful combination. He could deal with the rest of them, but seeing Colleen always made him feel guilty. He couldn’t shake the sense of being a real bastard every time he held her at arm’s length. He knew what she wanted—what they all wanted.

  Rather than deal with the guilt, he stepped forward and hugged her. Before he straightened, Lorenzo Marcelli, the aging patriarch, strolled into the kitchen.

  “So, you’re back,” the elder Marcelli growled. “They’re snooping around here like we’re a bunch of terrorists. Send them away.”

  “Not in my job description,” Joe said as he released his mother and shook hands with Marco’s father. “You’re looking well.”

  “I’m old,” Lorenzo said. “This is all a bunch of nonsense.”

  “Pop, it’s not so bad,” Marco said.

  “You don’t even know what’s going on,” Lorenzo complained. “None of us do. If those agents trample even one grape, there will be hell to pay.”

  “Lorenzo!” Tessa reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a rosary. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true.” Lorenzo thumped the cane he’d started using about a year ago and made his way to the large kitchen table in the center of the room. “Well, get on with it. Tell us why we’ve been taken over like an enemy country.”

  Joe nodded at Marco, who led Colleen and Tessa to chairs by Lorenzo’s. When they were seated, he began.

  “What I’m about to tell you is classified information. You are not to discuss it with anyone outside of the immediate family.”

  Tessa reached for Lorenzo’s hand, and Colleen shivered. “That sounds so serious,” she said nervously.

  “It is,” he told her. “Two days ago the president’s daughter was kidnapped. She got away, but the kidnappers are still out there.”

  Tessa gasped and clutched her beads tighter. “Who would do that? She’s a lovely girl. So pretty and always helping with those little children.”

  Colleen nodded. “It was so sad when she lost her husband. Their wedding was so beautiful. They’d barely been married a year when he was killed in that car accident. She got so sad afterward.” She reached for Marco. “I can’t imagine what she must have gone through, missing him so much.”

  Lorenzo frowned. “What does this have to do with us? What do we care about his daughter?”

  “Lorenzo!” Tessa glared at him. “We care. Lauren Jensen-Smith is a lovely girl.” She turned her attention to Joe. “How can we help?” Even as she asked the question, her breath caught. “Oh! Is she coming here?”

  “Not exactly,” Joe said, wondering why they’d done the same thing he had—jumped to the conclusion that it was Lauren who was in trouble and not Darcy.

  “You’ll have the president’s daughter here, but it won’t be Lauren,” he said. “It will be the other one. Darcy.”

  There was a moment of silence. Colleen released her husband’s arm and smoothed down her skirt. “I’m sure she’s very nice, too.”

  “That other one?” Lorenzo asked. “I don’t know anything about her. Except she never bothered to get married and have babies to make her family proud.”

  With that he pushed to his feet and used his cane to help him turn. “This is all a waste of time if you ask me,” he grumbled as he slowly limped out of the room.

  Tessa rose as well. “Are you sure they’re not sending Lauren? A nice, pretty girl like that needs to be married.” She smiled at him. “Maybe to an officer.”

  Joe held in a groan. Right. Because his life wasn’t hellish enough already. Fortunately a knock on the back door prevented him from responding. He crossed the kitchen and opened it.

  “Lieutenant Commander Joseph Larson?” the woman on the other side asked.

  He nodded.

  “I’m Special Agent Paige Newberry. I saw you arrive and thought I would introduce myself to you and meet the family.”

  She stepped inside and shook his hand. Paige was tall, only a couple of inches shorter than his own six feet. She wore a dark pants suit and a concealed sidearm. Short hair framed attractive features.

  He was used to judging people in a matter of seconds. Joe’s first impression of Special Agent Newberry was that she was intelligent, competent, and ready to play on a team. Thank God he wasn’t in this alone.

  Joe had been briefed early that morning. While the Secret Service was in charge of Darcy and her protection, Joe was there to act as liaison with the family and to offer any expertise the Secret Service might require. As he doubted they wanted or needed his help, he was little more than a glorified babysitter. None of which was the agent’s fault.

  Joe led her into the kitchen.

  “This is Special Agent Paige Newberry,” he said. “She’s in charge of Darcy Jensen’s personal security.”

  “Actually Special Agent Alex Vanmeter is in charge of this operation,” Paige said with a smile. “He’s with Darcy right now. They’ll be arriving in the morning. I am, however, one of the agents who will be in close contact with Darcy at all times.”

  Tessa nodded. “You call her by her first name?”

  “Yes, ma’am. At her request.”

  “This is Tessa Marcelli,” Joe said by way of introduction. “Marco Marcelli and his wife, Colleen.”

  Paige shook hands with all of them. Colleen moved to the ever-present coffeepot and began to pour. “This is really difficult to take in. The president’s daughter. Here. What are we supposed to do? How do we act? What do we call her?”

  Paige smiled. “I think she’d like Darcy best. In fact I would prefer that you use first names with all of us. That way we don’t call attention to ourselves.”

  Colleen looked at her dark suit. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not exactly fitting in with the locals.”

  “I know. I brought more casual clothes with me. I thought I’d wait until Special Agent Vanmeter arrives before changing.”

  Joe stared at Paige. There was something about the way she said “Special Agent Vanmeter.” He couldn’t put his finger on the inflection, but he would bet it meant something.

  “You’ve worked with
him before?” he asked.

  Paige nodded. “He’s excellent. Very thorough. Darcy will be safe, as will your family, Lieutenant Commander.”

  “We agreed on first names,” Joe said.

  “Of course.”

  Tessa began pulling food out of the refrigerator. “Sit. Sit. You need to eat. Marco, bring Paige some wine.”

  “Oh, no thanks. I can’t drink on duty.”

  Tessa waved away her words. “You said Darcy won’t arrive until the morning. Be on duty then.”

  Joe led her to the table and sat across from her. In a matter of seconds, seemingly from nowhere, food appeared. Salads, fixings for sandwiches, three kinds of cookies, bread, cheese, and of course pasta. He was used to the quantity of the spread, but Paige looked stunned.

  Joe grinned. “You’d better eat, or they’ll get surly.”

  “Of course you’ll eat,” Tessa said as she set wineglasses in front of them. “So, Paige, are you married?”

  • • •

  Thirty minutes later, Paige and Joe escaped the clutches of Grandma Tessa, as she’d insisted on being called, and stepped out in the sunset. Paige had enjoyed the home-cooked food, even if it came with a pretty big side of matchmaking.

  “Interesting family,” she said.

  “She’s determined to get me married,” Joe said flatly.

  “Yet you’ve stood strong against her all these years. Impressive.”

  He shrugged then glanced around at the vineyards, which stretched for miles.

  “Do you really think you can protect Darcy Jensen here?” he asked.

  Paige wasn’t sure if his question was simple conversation or a genuine concern. “The location is a compromise, but I think it’s a good one. Who knows how long it will take to track down the kidnappers? I understand Darcy’s need to be in a place where she won’t get claustrophobic.”

  “Better claustrophobic than dead.”

  “Agreed, but we’re going to keep her alive.” She walked toward the guesthouse, which would serve as both her sleeping quarters and temporary headquarters. “Darcy will be kept close to the house for the first few days. We’ll have agents in the tasting rooms and other tourist areas to keep them from getting anywhere near the hacienda. I’ve already spoken with Brenna Marcelli about that. She was more than cooperative.” She glanced at the naval officer at her side. “Your sister?”

  “One of four,” Joe said. “She runs this winery, along with a smaller one. Her husband owns Wild Sea.”

  “Right.” Paige remembered her briefing notes and the interview she’d had the previous day. “Nic Giovanni. He’s cooperating as well. In fact everyone has been more than helpful.”

  “Lucky us.”

  She turned to Joe. He was tall, good-looking, and had a service record that would make anyone proud. But she would bet her next three paychecks he didn’t want to be here.

  “You’re acting as our liaison with the family,” she said. “We appreciate that.”

  “I live to serve.”

  The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. She felt like an angry cat trying to puff up to look more intimidating. She might be a hell of an agent, but Joe Marcelli had been a SEAL. In a one-on-one situation, she didn’t stand a chance. Still, that wouldn’t stop her from taking him on.

  “Lieutenant Commander Larson,” she said, keeping her voice steady and firm, “I cannot stress the importance of this assignment enough. We are protecting the life of the daughter of the president of the United States. Two days ago someone got close enough to abduct her. She was forcibly taken, tied up, and threatened. Do you think there was even one moment in her life that prepared her for that kind of terror?”

  Joe didn’t look much more than bored with the conversation. “I’m a naval officer, Special Agent Newberry. I’ll do my job.”

  “Not good enough. I’m willing to take a bullet for her. If you can’t offer that same level of commitment, I don’t want you here.”

  “You don’t have the authority to get rid of me.”

  She leaned in slightly. “Want to test that theory? Nothing is going to happen to Darcy Jensen on my watch. I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to offend to keep her safe. If you’re not fully on this team, then you’re in my way. Do I make myself clear?”

  His expression didn’t change, but she saw something flash in his eyes. Respect, maybe. However grudgingly given, she would accept it.

  “You like her,” he said, sounding surprised.

  “I do. I’ve worked with Darcy before. She’s funny, smart, and not interested in being the center of attention. That makes my job easier, and I appreciate that. So are you on board?”

  He nodded. “A hundred percent.”

  Paige accepted his word because she had to, but she vowed to keep an eye on him. SEAL or not—if he got in her way, she was taking him down.

  • • •

  Darcy had spent the previous night in a small house on the edge of Baltimore. This morning, after a short flight to Florida, she’d been delivered to another nondescript location on the edge of what looked like a massive swamp. She’d been warned not to leave the house, not to make phone calls, and not to answer the door under any circumstances.

  Oh, right. Because she wanted to make a general statement, announcing her location to the world.

  Someone knocked on the bedroom door. Darcy refused to be seen as a coward, so she uncurled on the bed and sat up.

  “Come in,” she said, expecting Alex Vanmeter, the special agent in charge of her security and Drew’s replacement.

  Alex stepped in and nodded at her. “Your father will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Darcy blinked at him. “My father? He’s in Chicago.”

  “He’s flying back to D.C. tonight and is stopping by to see you.”

  Before Darcy could say anything, Alex touched the ever-present earpiece and then nodded. “Falcon is on the ground.”

  Meaning her father had landed and was being driven to the safe house.

  She stood. As Alex excused himself, she entered the bathroom attached to the bedroom and ran a brush through her short, dark hair. She looked tired and either sick or shell-shocked. Makeup could help, but there wasn’t much time.

  Exactly fourteen minutes later, President Ryan Jensen walked into her temporary bedroom.

  “Darcy,” he said when his assigned agent had swept the room then left them alone. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m sure the doctors faxed you a medical report. You tell me.”

  Ryan Jensen had served as vice president for four years before running for the head job. He was eighteen months into his first term. The stresses of the office aged some men, but not her father. Oh, there were a few more gray hairs at his temples, but that only made him more attractive. Last year he’d had to deal with the embarrassing reality of being named the country’s most eligible bachelor.

  Right now, though, the leader of the free world looked annoyed and frustrated. “Darcy, I’m on a very tight schedule. I changed my flight plan to come by and see you. That has to mean something.”

  “It does, Dad. Really. I hope you’re not keeping anyone important waiting. I mean it’s been nearly forty-eight hours since the kidnapping. I wouldn’t have wanted you to rush to my side or anything.”

  His gaze narrowed. “I phoned when I was informed about the kidnapping.”

  “You did, and it was a very touching call. Did I thank you for it? I meant to.”

  “You’re impossible,” he muttered. “Fine. Be angry with me or whomever you’d like. Regardless, I’m glad you’re all right and I want you to stay safe. For once, listen to what the agents tell you to do, will you?”

  The unfairness of the request took her breath away. She’d always listened. They were the ones who had let her down.

  But what was the point in trying to explain anything? Ryan Jensen had stopped hearing her years ago.

  “Be grateful you got away without getting hurt,” he added.

&
nbsp; Darcy thought about the still-healing scratches on her legs, the rope burns on her wrists, and the pain in her heart. There had been plenty of wounding, but it wasn’t the kind he meant.

  Someone knocked on the closed door. Ryan Jensen glanced toward it, then back at her. “I need to get to Washington. You’ll have a secure line up and running at your safe house in a day or so. Check in and let me know how you are.”

  “It’s what I live for,” she told him.

  “Dammit, Darcy.” He looked at her, started to speak, then caught himself. He turned away and was gone.

  When she was alone again, Darcy crawled back onto the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. He was a busy man. She should be grateful he’d diverted to Florida to see her. It could almost mean something.

  But instead of convincing herself, she remembered a dark night ten years before. When he’d glared at her and yelled that she wasn’t his daughter. She never had been.

  Later, he’d apologized. He’d spoken in anger and grief. He hadn’t meant it.

  Regardless of his contrition, he’d spoken the truth. Ryan Jensen wasn’t her father. That long-ago night the lies fell away, and his words had changed her forever.

  3

  The plane left Florida shortly after daybreak, which, with the time difference, meant an early arrival in California. Darcy hadn’t known their destination until an hour into the flight, when Alex Vanmeter had informed her they would be landing at a naval base north of Los Angeles.

  As she stepped off the plane usually used to transport the vice president, she saw three black SUVs parked on the tarmac. Secret Service agents flanked her, making it difficult to get down the steep flight of stairs. The second her feet touched the ground, Alex moved in, took her arm, and hustled her to the middle SUV. He opened the door and slid in beside her.

  “Pigeon is safe,” he said into the microphone at the inside of his left wrist. “Move out.”

  Seconds later, all three vehicles drove away from the plane.

  “At least you’re taking my security seriously,” she said as she gazed out the window.