Reluctant Runaway (20 page)

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—

Tony pushed her off his lap and lunged to his feet.

“Wha-a-at?” She stared at him.

His hands scrubbed through his hair then found his pockets. He gazed at the floor, breathing hard.

Desi stood frozen, her stomach a yawning pit of disappointment. But disappointment about what? That they’d trespassed beyond the boundaries of their convictions, or that he’d called a halt?

“Des, I—” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I should never—”

“No, Tony, it was my fault.” She reached toward him then dropped her arms. Her skin flushed hot. She’d offered and hadn’t wanted to stop. What must he think of her?

He grimaced. “Woman, at the polarity we attract, we need to be careful what situations we let ourselves get into. Right now, me in your hotel room alone with you is more dangerous than an arms bust. I knew better, too. I shouldn’t have come. It’s just that I … ” He let his words trail away and shifted from one foot to the other.

Tough for a big, strong agent-man to admit that he was feeling blue and needed company. “Anthony Lucano—” she put her
hands on her hips—”you’d rather be out on a bust?”

His mouth tilted up, and he shook his head. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than in your company. But when and if we ever go where we were headed, it needs to be in the right place at the right time after the right vows—with God smiling down on us.”

“Amen, hon.” She stepped toward him.

“No closer.” He tugged at his collar. “The temperature’s still a little high in here.”

She tilted her head. “Spoken like a man in need of a wife.” Oh bother, was that pushy or what? She looked away. He didn’t respond. She peered at him from under lowered lashes.

His gaze was on her, steady, sober. “You volunteering for the position?”

Her head snapped up. “There better not be any other volunteers.”

He laughed deep and long, shadows gone from his face. “I stopped taking applications when I laid eyes on you, darlin’.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to get mean and evil with the competition.”

“Speaking of mean and evil.” He headed for the door. “You should call Max. She no doubt thinks I’m the lowest scum on the planet because I haven’t made you call her yet. When I talked to her while you were in the hospital, she was big-time upset that you’d been missing and she didn’t know it.” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Are you ever going to give me that piece of information you withheld from me yesterday?”

“Ask Agent Ortiz. She pooh-poohed my wild conclusion, and I’m glad. Besides, if Max doesn’t have any results on an assignment I gave her, any theory will be less than worthless.”

“Now I know how you feel when I can’t tell you things about an investigation.”

“Get out of here, Lucano.” She waved.

Tony flashed a smile and left.

Desi got on the phone. A somber-sounding woman answered after the first ring. “Lana, it’s me—Desiree. Is Max around?”

“Oh, Desi, dear, I’m so glad you called. Max is beside herself.”

“About what? I’m safe and sound. But I do promise to grovel about not calling sooner. Put her on.”

Low whimper. “I can’t. Steve and I are babysitting. Max went to the prison. Dean jumped from the catwalk of the cell block tonight, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it. My poor daughter! To have her husband kill himself on top of everything else! How much more can she take?” Lana’s voice broke.

Desi’s heart echoed the sound. When would the cycle of pain and death end? What terrible consequences bad choices brought, for the innocent as well as the guilty. “Tell Max I’m flying home in the morning. There’s nothing more I can do here.”

Lana sniffed. “She’ll be glad to see you. We all know you did your best out there.”

Desi ended the call and sat down on the bed. Her best? She’d accomplished less than nothing. Her crusade had cost crucial man-hours away from the hunt for Karen in order to find and rescue her.

A secret cult hideaway in the desert? Twenty-first-century cannibals? Fantastic tales. Should she believe any of it without more proof?

Tony was right to worry about her. Tomorrow she was turning over a new leaf. No more listening to her own impulses and confusing them with God’s guidance.

Nothing and no one could convince her to take matters into her own hands again.

 Seventeen

D
esi fought herself awake from troubled dreams of desert heat mingled with the sound of a man crying. She blinked at the unfamiliar hotel room, and then awareness rushed in.
Max!
She needed to get back to Boston. She sat straight up.

Rolling out of bed, she stood and stretched, her array of bruises protesting. No decisions to make on wardrobe. Over the underwear she’d washed in the hotel sink and dried with the blow-dryer, she slipped on the sundress Jo had lent her.

She checked the time and did a double take at the clock: 9 a.m. Why didn’t the alarm go off? She checked the setting and groaned. She’d set it for 7 p.m., not seven in the morning. She should have woken up earlier anyway. What kind of friend was she?

Desi picked up the hotel phone and dialed Max’s house. Dean,
you better not have died on Max. She does not need more guilt-trips to lay on herself
. The phone rang until the answering machine picked up. Desi cut the connection. She hated to dial Max’s cell number. What if she was sitting with Dean in his last moments?

Tony. He’d have Steve’s cell number. Through the unofficial bodyguard she could at least find out where everyone was.

She punched in Tony’s number and then mentally kicked herself when it started to ring. This time of day, he’d be neck-deep in whatever was happening at the office. Oh, never mind.
He needed to know she was leaving town anyway.

“Lucano.” His clipped tone let her know she was right about him being busy.

“Tony it’s Des. Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother, hon.” The tone softened, and Desi’s insides turned to warm taffy

At Tony’s end, someone in the background called his name.

She laughed. “Liar. You’re a popular man.”

He answered with a chuckle. “With you, I hope … Just a second.” That last was said with his mouth away from the receiver. “How are you this morning?” He returned to the mouthpiece. “I almost checked on you before I went in today, but didn’t want to wake you up.”

Desi sighed. “You should have. I’ve got to go back to Boston on the soonest flight out.”

“HJ Securities needs you?”

“Max. Dean’s in the hospital. Attempted suicide. Didn’t sound good last night.”

Silence for a beat. “Then Boston’s where you need to be. If nothing further breaks at this end, I won’t be far behind. I’ll—”

“Lucano!” The person in the background had run out of patience.

“Gotta go. Ortiz looks about ready to bust a gasket. Must be something cooking.” His voice took on the edge of a hunter catching the scent of a trail.

No fair delaying him a moment longer. “Sure, I’ll call you again from Boston.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Sorry buddy. I’m fresh out of cell phones.”

“Get one, and let me know when you have it. Leave the message on my voice mail if you need to … What’s up, Ortiz?” The connection closed.

Desi frowned. She’d have to chance disturbing her friend at a delicate time. She punched in numbers, and a knock sounded at her door.

“Who is it?” She disconnected the phone without finishing the sequence.

No answer except a louder knock. Someone was way impatient. Seemed to be the morning for it. She went to the door and looked through the peephole. A fleshy face filled her vision. Her heart seized then gave a little jump.

Hamilton Gordon! And he was sweating like he’d jogged up the stairs to her floor. No, that wasn’t perspiration on his jowls.

Those were tears.

“We’ve found one of our corpses come to life!”

Ortiz waved a fingerprint report in Tony’s face. “Our prize prisoner is West Coast thug Leon Bender—one of the guys whose prints were on that meth package. He was listed as killed a year ago in a warehouse explosion. But here he is, alive and well, waiting for us in an interrogation cell down at the county lockup. A resurrection story with nothing holy about it. And get this.” She leaned in closer. “Bender drives for Gordon Corp when he’s not tearing up the desert on his hog.”

“No surprise there.” Tony took the report. “Someone in that corporation is making lowlifes disappear then hiring them to do his dirty work. And he’s been at it for a while. Bill Winston’s death was staged five years ago.”

Ortiz nodded. “A wealthy, influential executive like Hamilton Gordon would be in a prime position to help people disappear and reemerge with false identities.”

Tony fastened the fingerprint sheet on the bulletin board next to a fresh mug shot of Tank, aka Leon Bender. “For sure a
guy like Leon would need someone with brains to help him pull off a death scam.” He tapped Bender’s picture. “He’s not the sharpest tack in the wall. Why else would he try a fool stunt like he did with Desiree? We would’ve found his hidey-hole in a five-minute ransack.”

Ortiz slanted him a look. “I doubt he had a clue that he was dealing with someone who wouldn’t leave without his woman. Not the type to believe that someone could care about another person that much.”

Tony jingled the change in his pocket. “Point taken. But if we can squeeze Gordon’s name out of little Leon, we can start to unravel this whole thing.”

“We?” Ortiz laughed. “Yesterday never happened, bucko. You’re stuck to the office till the powers-that-be hold some cockamamie committee meeting. Remember? Besides, you’ve got a personal thing against Leon.” She arched a brow at Tony. “Don’t worry Rhoades and I’ll go down to the jail and put the guy in a vise.” The New Mexico agent headed for the door. “I always enjoy doing interrogations with Rhoades. He can’t eat peanuts.”

Tony chuckled and waved her away He turned toward the mishmash of papers and files on the table, the sum of three interlocking, cross-agency cases. The DEA was going to be hot to hop on this Leon Bender meth connection. Looked like Gordon Corp trucks might be hauling drugs as well as pirated discs. And then there was the possible embezzlement of GC funds thrown into the mix. And finally, the FBI, the tribal police, and the local PD wanted Indian artifacts recovered and the thieves caught, which included finding Karen Webb as a possible accomplice. No obvious connection between those cases except …

He picked up a file, the one on suspicious activities at Inner Witness Ministries.

Gordon linked the interstate trucking and embezzlement
case with the Inner Witness investigation. Webb potentially linked the museum theft and Inner Witness. But what would Ham Gordon or Reverend Romlin want with centuries old artifacts? And how could Karen be involved in the trucking case? Yet the fact remained that Inner Witness permeated the lives of both Webb and Gordon, and that couldn’t be a coincidence.

Maybe Hajimoto had found something in his digging into Reverend Romlin. He grabbed a pad and pen and got on the phone to Boston. If something didn’t turn up soon, someone was going to get away with murder. His blood heated.
Not
going to happen on his watch.

“Please, Ms. Jacobs, you must go with me to the FBI office. I have vital information.”

From the other side of her closed hotel door, Desi listened to the plea for the third time. “Mr. Gordon, I’ve told you I’m needed elsewhere. You can go to the FBI yourself. I’m certain they’ll be happy to hear anything you have to say.”

“But I want to speak only to Agent Lucano, and you must be there as an advocate for me. He values your opinion.”

What made this guy think she’d be on
his
side? “Mr. Gordon, if you have information about a crime or wish to make a confession, you need to give it to the authorities right away. I can’t help you with that, and if you persist, I’m going to call the police.”

“You’ll be sorry if you don’t come with me, Ms. Jacobs.” Gordon’s voice became more gravel than whine.

A shiver pulsed through Desi’s middle. How did he find out where she was staying? “Mr. Gordon, I’m going to call the police. If you don’t leave right now, you’ll be arrested.”

This man was either genuinely off his rocker or insanely
clever and dangerous. She reached for the handset and the instrument rang. Desi jumped.

Tony sorted through papers while the receptionist at the Boston end put him through to Hajimoto. The familiar voice came on.

“Haj, Tony here. I hope you’ve pulled a rabbit out of the hat on Romlin. We need something fresh.”

The man gave his rolling chuckle. “You must have been reading my mind when you called. First off, he’s not a real minister. At least not an ordained one like he claims. He never went to the school he says he graduated from, but he does have a real license to marry and bury—easy enough to come by these days. And his real name is Arnold Bletch, son of an undertaker from Scranton, Ohio.”

“No wonder the guy changed his name.” Tony doodled a downward spiral on his pad. “Or is this another case of a dead man with a fictitious identity?”

“Nope. Bletch never died. He just disappeared, and no one cared because both of his folks were dead, and the family wasn’t close. I’ve been on the phone with a second cousin who says he’s not surprised Arnold got into a religious racket. As a kid, he was a choirboy with a silver tongue—literal choirboy, but with a scam artist’s heart.” Haj snorted a laugh. “He talked some lonely old lady into leaving him her estate. After she died, he took the money, left town, and was never seen or heard from again.”

“And no one in his hometown recognized him when he went on television?”

“He changed more than his name. The cousin told me his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.”

“So far you’ve given me plenty of shady history, but nothing outright illegal.”

“Sony, boss. I can’t tell you what’s not there. If the news media gets wind Romlin’s lying about his past, the scandal will shut down his ministry, but it won’t put him in prison.”

“Fax me everything you’ve got anyway.” If only he could tell Haj to fax the information to the nearest network TV station or major newspaper. “Keep digging. If we can prove improper use of ministry donations, that
will
put him in prison.”

“Like diverting big bucks to construct a secret compound in the desert?”

“Or if some of the money embezzled from the company or profits from pirating ended up in Inner Witness coffers. Someone’s got their fingers in a lot of pies, and tons of dough is disappearing. Oh, and a new wrinkle’s come up that links GC with meth distribution. Drug money propping up a media ministry? That’d put Romlin in the slammer and bury the key.”

Haj whistled low and long. “Polanski’s got Slidell looking into the source of Inner Witness money. I can hardly wait for the results.”

Tony let out a short laugh. “Guess I’m obsolete before I’m gone more than a day.”

“Not hardly. Get back as soon as you can. Things aren’t. A heavy breath came over the line. “It feels weird around here. You know, without Ben and now you out of the office.”

Tony exhaled through his nose. “I know what you mean.” He heard a female voice in the background. “That Polanski? Put her on.”

“Sure. See ya soon.”

Tony heard Haj yell to Polanski. A few seconds passed.

“Hey, boss-man,” she said. “How’s Albuquerque treating you? Desiree all right?”

“Albuquerque’s good. Des was 100 percent Des when I talked to her this morning. She bounces back like a Super Ball
and is already off on the next crusade. I think she’ll be back in your neck of the woods today. A crisis with Max Webb’s husband.”

“You think we need to put more protection on the Webb family than a retired agent?”

“Stevo’s more than I’d wish on King Kong. Besides, who do we have to spare? The threat is vague and from an unreliable source that may be out of the picture.” Too bad he couldn’t get his hands on Cheama to demonstrate the proper way to carry out a threat.

“You okay?”

Tony unclenched his fists. “Fine.”

“Riiiight. Well, I don’t mind admitting that we’re a little shaky around here. It’ll be good when you get back.”

“You know how to make a guy feel needed even when his fill-in has everything under control.” He tried a laugh, but it came out a grunt.

“They release the body tomorrow. The funeral should be in a few days. You going?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“The rest of us feel the same way.”

“Tell them to put in for vacation when we have a firm date. I’ll sign off and pass it up the line. I doubt we’ll hear any squawking.”

“And if we do?”

“I’ll squawk back.”

They ended the call, and Tony surveyed the disorganized information on the table. He glanced around at the almost empty bulletin boards that circled the room. Time to organize, try different patterns, see what jelled, what didn’t. The answers had to be lying in front of him.

All he had to do was put the right questions to the data.