Reluctant Runaway

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Something slammed into her attacker, ripping them apart. Desi staggered, and the backs of her knees hit the side of the chest. Gasping, she windmilled for balance. Still tottering, she flung herself to the side, away from the trunk and the men who battled only feet away.

  Tony!

  Tank’s feet and fists flew. The scruffy thug fought with no style and no rules—pure enraged street brawler. Tony’s moves were controlled, fluid. Dodging a fist, he landed an openhanded chop to the side of the biker’s neck. Tank staggered, recovered, and closed in again. The biker’s foot rammed for Tony’s midsection but caught empty air. Off-balance, he went down, rolled, and came up swinging. A huge fist shaved past Tony’s ear, and he answered with a sidekick to the solar plexus that slammed the biker against the wall.

  Tank wobbled forward, shook himself, and then charged with a bellow. Tony ducked and rammed the biker in the stomach with his shoulder. The mountain of muscle flipped end over end and whammed onto the table flat on his back. The tabletop split, cups flew, and kegs rolled down on top of the gasping biker.

  Desi gave a hoarse cheer.

  Tank flailed then froze, bug-eyed, with Ortiz’s gun almost shoved up his nose. Silence deafened as the helicopter noise faded and died.

  A growl came from Tony. “Why don’t you step outside for a while, New Mexico. I’m not done interrogating this lowlife.” He stared down at the blinking thug.

  A shiver ran through Desi. The look scared her, and it wasn’t even pointed in her direction.

  “Cool it, Lucano,” Ortiz said. “You’re not here, remember?”

  Tony rolled his shoulders and took a step backward. “No problem. This is your collar. I’m a ghost.”

  Ortiz bobbed her chin in Desi’s direction. “I think someone else needs your attention.”

  Desi sat up. Tony’s gaze found hers. Emotions chased themselves across his face. Wide-eyed shock—she must look like a rag doll somebody dragged in the dirt—followed by narrow-eyed fury and a glance at the biker now being handcuffed by Ortiz. His gaze returned to hers, and those chiseled features softened. Life-giving warmth flowed through Desi, lifting her to her feet as if she hadn’t an ache in her body.

  They moved and met and clung. His fierce clasp hurt bruises she didn’t know she had. Her hands fisted in the back of his sweat-soaked shirt.

  “You smell like a brewery,” he murmured into her hair.

  “Do you mind?” she said into his shirt pocket.

  “Not one bit.”

  Two hours later, from her bed in a curtained emergency room cubicle, Desi finished giving Tony a sketchy overview of her adventures, minus the off-the-wall notion of cult cannibalism. She’d bring it up when he was less upset with her and after Max and her family were protected from vicious Gordon Corp truckers. “Pete said they might go after the baby to draw him out.” She fingered the tape that held the IV line to the back of her hand.

  “Quit messing with that.” Seated by the bed, Tony took her free hand. “You’re lucky to get out of this with only a little dehydration and mild sunburn.”

  “I know it, honey, and I’m sorry But did you hear what I said?”

  “Cheama’s dead. That’s what the anonymous caller claimed.”

  Desi’s heart went hollow. “Poor Jo. She and her ex may not have gotten along, but they were close once. That’s got to matter. And Karen, when she finds out … ” A tear wet her cheek.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Tony brushed the moisture away with his fingertips. “You’re a soft touch, you know That’s what got you into this trouble.” His thumb traced a spot on her cheek. “Did that biker hit you?” The hard tone didn’t match the caress.

  “Hit me?” She blinked at him. ‘You prevented that catastrophe, remember?”

  “You’ve got a bruise.” His thumb moved again.

  Desi turned into the touch. “Mmmm. What? Oh, must be from yesterday. I bumped my face against the steering wheel reaching for something on the floor.”

  Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you throttled yourself, too. There are finger marks on your neck.”

  “Okay, Mr. Observant. Pete Cheama did that, but it was an accident. He—”

  “An accident!” Tony went stiff. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “He was trying to stop me from running into traffic and getting killed, so—”

  “Hold it.” Tony held up his hand. “Later on we’ll go through every insane detail, but right now you need to relax and let that fluid get into your system.”

  “I want a long shower. That little medical sponge bath on my bumps and bruises wasn’t enough. And a big meal, too, as soon as that doc will let me out of here.”

  “You lie still, and I’ll go make a reservation for you at the same place I’m staying.” He planted a kiss on her lips. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Don’t worry. I think I could snooze the clock around.” She yawned.

  “Go right ahead.”

  “Can’t. There’s too much to sort out. Max and her family need someone to keep an eye on them. Does anyone besides the FBI and me know about Cheama’s death?”

  “All we know is someone says he died, and they had good reason to lie.”

  “What a mess. Leaves us with no clue what to tell anyone.” Desi started to cross her arms, jerked the IV line, and let out a frustrated noise.

  Planting his hands on either side of her shoulders, Tony kissed her again then drew away a few inches. Their gazes meshed. Desi’s pulse rate soared. Close exposure to an Italian hunk—great for the circulation. Bad for the concentration.

  The laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. “You’re determined to worry. How about this? I’ll call Stevo. He’ll leap at the chance to camp out at Max’s house.”

  “And do you know why?” Desi tried to sit up, but Tony pushed her back down. “Can you believe it?” She subsided against the too-firm mattress. “Steve Crane and Lana Burke, Max’s dainty mother? That’s like the Incredible Hulk and Tinkerbell. Captain Hook and Mary Poppins.”

  Tony chuckled. “Beauty and the Beast. We know how that one turned out.”

  Desi scowled. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

  “Should I?”

  Desi opened her mouth then shut it.

  “Nothing to say?” He arched a brow.

  “I hate it when you’re right and I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re never an idiot.”

  Desi smoothed the sheet, a smile tugging at her lips. “But you are right. It’s none of my business.” She touched his arm. “I think I’m scared that the relationship will work out. Since Max is like a sister to me, I’d feel related to Crane.” She shuddered. “That would be too weird.”

  “I sympathize. Max’s boy still figures me for his Grandpa Steve’s honorary son.” Tony grimaced. Their gazes met, and they both laughed.

  “You rest.” Tony went to the curtain opening. “I’ll make a few phone calls and check back in a little while.”

  He disappeared, and a pang struck Desi’s middle. Don’t leave me, Tony. She rolled onto her side toward the IV pole. Man, she sounded pitiful. A lot of people in the ER were going through more trauma than her. Moans and the brisk voices of medical personnel in other cubicles confirmed her thought, but the empty ache didn’t leave. She snuggled the sheet under her chin and sniffed. Acrid disinfectant smells filled her nostrils.

  Sure, go make your phone calls, Lucano. She was stuck here attached to this gadget.

  He’d call the hotel, Steve Crane, Max probably, and for sure Agent Ortiz for an update on evidence processing out at the bikers’ party site. When she and Tony had left in the Army helicopter, the place was swarming with tribal police, DEA, and federal agents—all hunting for their piece of the pie. The natives wanted to nail Snake’s gang for illegal use of reservation grounds, the DEA wanted anything connected to drugs, and the feds wanted clues about stolen artifacts and a missing museum receptionist.

  Wonder what they found in Tank’s hidey-hole? Like Ton
y would tell her when he got the word.

  Mighty grumpy, girl, when the man saved your bacon this afternoon.

  Desi flopped over onto her back and stared at the dull white ceiling. She scratched her nose, and the needle in the back of her hand gave a twinge. Huffing, she rolled onto her side again and stared at the pole. It’s my IV, and I’ll grump if I want to.

  She yawned and closed her eyes. No way was she going to sleep though. She might be safe, but what about Max and the baby?

  Under the shade of a tree outside the hospital, Tony finished his call to Steve Crane. He went inside and threaded between ER traffic to Desi’s cubicle. Sticking his head through the curtains, he grinned at the still form under the sheet. Lights out, sweetheart. Maybe she’d stay asleep until he checked in with Ortiz.

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  Or maybe not. Tony glanced over his shoulder to find a stocky, gray-haired nurse trying to get by him. He stepped aside, and she whisked into Desi’s cubicle.

  “IV’s all finished,” she said as if trying to be heard over a Sunday crowd at a Sox game.

  Tony winced. Forty winks cut down to twenty.

  “What?” Desi’s eyelids fluttered. “Oh, yes, can you get me out of this thing?” Her voice was slurred. Soft sounds followed, like tape coming off, and a rustle of sheets. “Where’s Tony?”

  He stepped between the curtains. “Right here, babe. I told you I’d hang around.”

  Her face relaxed.

  The nurse scowled. “Sir, you’ll have to—”

  “Stay!” Desi reached toward him.

  Tony took her hand and stood on the other side of the bed while the stone-faced nurse removed the IV needle. He ignored the disapproval and rubbed his thumb across the soft palm he held. She needed him. How many men could say that a woman as strong and independent as Desiree Jacobs felt that way about them? She was a rare find, and this lucky slob had almost lost her.

  Lord, I can’t do that Not until we’re old and gray. And maybe not even then. I think I’d need to go first. But how could he keep her safe when he loved her the way she was, and the way she was got her in over her head with people like wanted fugitives and outlaw bikers?

  “What’s the matter?” Desi squeezed his hand. “You look like a man facing the gallows.”

  Tony squared his shoulders and winked at her. “No, just a lifelong torture rack.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” He shook his head.

  “All done.” The nurse glared at them both. “You’re free to go, Ms. Jacobs. The doctor has released you.” With a lift of the nose at Tony, she left the cubicle.

  Desi giggled. “At least one woman in this world is immune to your charms, Mr. Lucano. But not this one.” She tugged on his hand. “Thanks for waiting for me. I know you’re chomping at the bit to get back to headquarters and find out what’s going on.”

  Tony tweaked her sun-reddened chin. “No way, lady. I’m going to escort you to that hotel and make sure you have everything you need. Then I’ll go to the office and let you rest.”

  “Hospitals are terrible for that, aren’t they?” She laughed, the familiar spark in her eyes. “By the way, darlin’, that was a great answer. Nothing warms the cockles of a woman’s heart more than knowing she’s first place with her man. Now get out of here while I shed this elegant hospital gown and put my grungy clothes back on.”

  Tony stepped to the other side of the curtain, brows drawn together. Yes, but was he first with her?

  Her choices never seemed designed to give him peace of mind. And did her remark mean that his job would always have to take a backseat to whatever she wanted? That would never work. An FBI career demanded as much of the agent’s family as it did of the agent.

  Ridiculous, man! He shook himself. Des wasn’t like that—all self-absorbed. If anything, she thought too much about others and not enough about herself. But couldn’t that shipwreck their future as much as the other extreme? Fear nibbled at his insides. He couldn’t lose her, but could he keep her?

  Desi basked in the refreshing shower. The lukewarm droplets babied her tender skin. Starting to feel pruney she shut off the water, stepped out, and patted herself dry with a soft towel. Then she wiped the moisture from a section of the mirror and examined her face. Oh, crumb! She’d peel—a charming effect with the bruises on her cheek and neck. Ah, well. She was in an air-conditioned hotel room and not nature’s oven. Thanks to a phone call by Tony, Jo had sent over clothes that should almost fit her. Plus, her room service meal would be here any second.

  Count your blessings, woman! You weren’t that jar from being a buzzard’s dinner

  She put on a sundress that bagged on her and then peeked out the curtains into the fading daylight. Her room was on the sixth floor, and below her the lights of Albuquerque had begun to glow. A lovely city full of strong, diverse cultures that had clashed for centuries—Indian, Hispanic, Anglo. Pete Cheama, Rosa Ortiz, Brent Webb—hard to think of anything the three had in common, except their commitment to this arid but beautiful land.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Desi’s stomach rumbled. She hurried to open it.

  “Tony! What are you doing here?”

  He grinned at her from behind the room service cart and wheeled it in, towel draped over his arm like a maître d’. The resemblance ended there, because he was dressed in tan chinos and a green polo shirt. “Not much going on at the office. Ortiz is dog-tired after her big day in the desert. Her partner packed up and went home a while ago. And Tank is in the tank overnight. So I’m at your disposal, milady.” He whisked the cover off a chafing dish.

  Heavenly smells tormented Desi’s nostrils. She clutched her middle and moaned.

  Tony shot her a sharp glance. “You all right?”

  “Steak! Mushrooms in wine sauce! Baked potatoes! Broccoli smothered in cheese! Get this meal on the table before I drool on the carpet.”

  He laughed. “Your humble servant, miss.”

  “My hero.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. What do you know? The guy blushes.

  They laid out the food and condiments double-time. Tony seated her like a gentleman, then bent and nuzzled her neck.

  A tingle zapped every synapse. “Wow! That works great even when you’re not wearing a beard.”

  His low chuckle in her ear raised the hairs on her arms. He lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers. “That was hors d’oeuvres,” he murmured. “I’ll collect dessert later.” His grin was downright wicked as he went to his chair.

  Desi uncurled her toes with an effort. Heavens, the man is lethal! “Hard to believe it was just a few days ago that we were nibbling at a White House buffet. This looks better than anything on the president’s table.” She spread her napkin in her lap. “Of course, it could seem that way since I’m hungry enough to eat lizard.”

  “A lot’s happened in a short time.” Tony nodded and took her hand. He bent his head and asked a blessing on the food.

  Desi dived in with gusto. “I don’t suppose you could tell me what they found in that hole Tank was about to throw me into.”

  “I can. Nothing. It would have been just you, him, and the millipedes.”

  Desi shuddered. “Thank you for that appealing picture.”

  Tony chuckled. “You’re welcome. The DEA took soil samples to see if it had ever been used to store drugs. As per usual, the results will take a while.”

  She nodded, intent on cleaning her plate. Maybe she’d lick it for good measure. With her broccoli gone, most of her potato and half her steak, she noticed Tony grinning at her. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He waved his empty fork. “I like seeing a woman enjoy her food.”

  Desi patted her mouth with her napkin and hid a soft burp. She had inhaled the meal in record time. “Usually that saying is the other way around.” She studied Tony’s untouched steak. “Anything wrong with your meat?”

  “No, everything’s perfect.” He pushed his plate back. “I don’t have room for it
tonight.” He made a halfhearted stab at a broccoli floret.

  Desi set her napkin by her plate. “You’re thinking about Ben.”

  Tony frowned. “I should be enjoying your company.”

  “Oh, honey.” She covered his hand with hers. “That’s what a relationship means—sharing the bad times as well as the good. You need to feel like you can talk to me about anything.”

  He pulled his hand away and rammed his fork into the chunk of beef on his plate. “Gordon Corp meat, no doubt.”

  Desi bit her lip and stared down at the small chunk left on her plate. “Gordon Corp isn’t all about a few bad apples in the barrel. There are lots of fine employees and honest investors that are part of the company.”

  Tony nodded, but the frown stayed on his face. “I know you’re right. I also know that what Ham Gordon’s doing could cost those employees their jobs and the investors their money And we don’t seem one inch closer to nailing this guy. I feel like I’m letting Ben down.”

  “Sweetheart.” Desi got up and went to him. He welcomed her onto his lap. She snuggled her face into his neck. “I won’t bother reminding you that you’ve been in Albuquerque all of one day. Or how patient the FBI is at long-term investigations. Or how great you are at your job.” She rubbed her palm down the side of his face. “Or how much I like that stubble along your jaw. Sends shivers down my spine.”

  A chuckle rumbled from Tony’s chest. “Woman, you are one incredible distraction. Exactly what I need.”

  She grinned up at him, and he joined their lips. Gentle exploration deepened. She twined one arm around his neck, fingers playing in his springy hair. The other went around his back. His hands caressed her ribs, the side of one leg. A melting sensation flowed through her veins.

  He needs me. I need him. Simple as two plus two. He lost someone close to him. I almost died today. His kisses demanded. She reveled in a fierce giving. It’s natural for us to cling to one another. Give comfort. Celebrate life.

  His touch found places no man had gone before, and she welcomed surrender. Beneath her kneading fingers, his back and shoulder muscles were sleek and firm. Strength perfect for her soft—