Kitabı oku: «Married To The Mob», sayfa 2

Carlie was charmed, but she felt like an impostor, lower than a slug. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Miller. I do appreciate your hospitality.”

Their hostess smiled and gestured for them to follow her. “Come, come. Supper is served.”

“Pay attention,” Dan whispered close to her ear.

On their way to the kitchen, Carlie asked Mrs. Miller about the farm. She learned all kinds of details the woman gladly shared. And when they entered the enormous kitchen, Carlie understood what Dan had meant. A huge oak table filled the center of the room. Spread out over its surface was a feast, a banquet, a smorgasbord of sights and smells. Carlie’s stomach growled.

Dan chuckled. “Told you.”

“No, Mr. Close-mouthed Secret Agent, you did not. All you said was another of your enigmatic ‘trust mes.’ That didn’t even give me a hint.”

“You can’t fault a guy for wanting to surprise a girl.”

“You surprised me, all right.”

“This is Richard.” Mrs. Miller indicated the oldest boy. “Beside him is Jonas, then Ruth. On the other side, Rachel and Stephen…”

In minutes, Carlie asked and learned the children’s ages, where they went to school and their usual chores around the farm.

Finally, they joined the Millers, all seven of them, for the meal. Mr. Miller said grace in what sounded kind of like German, and after resounding amens, everyone dug in.

Evidently, Mrs. Maddox had let her friend know she’d soon have guests, and Mrs. Miller had put on what she called “a little more” into the pots and pans. To Carlie, it looked like she’d gone a whole lot further than that. A gentle prod with her fork broke the pot roast into tender morsels. Parsley and butter coated the potatoes, a colorful variety of homegrown veggies filled another third of her gargantuan plate, home-baked bread melted in her mouth, and cinnamon-dusted applesauce tasted more refreshing than Carlie remembered from her childhood.

“What do you think?” Dan asked.

“Wow! Nothing but wow.”

Just when Carlie was sure she couldn’t possibly swallow another mouthful, Mrs. Miller brought out two different pies. One was apple, and the other the well-known Pennsylvania Dutch shoofly pie.

“Which one?” their hostess asked.

“Oh, I’m going to try the shoofly,” Carlie answered. “I’ve always wondered what it was like.”

With her first bite, she fell in love, as she told her hostess, and thanked the kind woman for the best meal she’d eaten in years. Afterward, she insisted on helping Mrs. Miller and the girls in the kitchen, and when the last plate was put away, Carlie found herself more tired than she’d ever thought she could be. She yawned, and Dan caught her.

“Time to hit the hay,” he said with a wink and a grin. “Say good night to our hosts, Carlie.”

“Good night,” she said like a dutiful child. But instead of heading upstairs, where she figured the bedrooms would be, Dan led her to the back door. “Where are we going?”

“I told you. You’re going to hit the hay.”

The glee in his face told Carlie more than she wanted to know. “You mean that literally, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

“How can you do that to me? I’ve been shot at, bombed—more than once, I might add—burned out of my apartment, and now you want me to sleep with the cows? You never told me about the perks of this deal, Danny Boy.”

“Give me a chance to explain. Mrs. Miller didn’t understand why I wanted you in one of the older outbuildings either. But think about it. If your family’s pals follow us out here, and I’m not saying they will, but you never know, do you want to put the Millers at risk?”

“I never thought of that, and I should have.” She sent a silent prayer heavenward. “Thanks, Dan. I’m so glad you did think it through.”

Unless she was much mistaken, a hint of a blush warmed up the tan over his chiseled cheekbones. To her amazement, he looked embarrassed. By a simple thank-you. Go figure.

To defuse the awkward moment, she said, “Lead on, fearless leader. Where do you want me? Roosting with the chickens?”

He pointed toward the left field. “There.”

Oh, yeah. It was the one she’d feared he would choose. “Tell me why you decided we needed to occupy the frumpiest, dumpiest, most dilapidated pile of boards here?”

“Because the Millers are about to tear it down plus a couple of the other outbuildings, now that they put up the big red barn. If something happens while we’re here, I don’t want them to suffer any major loss.”

Again his thoughtfulness surprised her—for the Millers, that is. “Let’s go, then.” She began to sing “Away in a Manger.”

“You are just too much.”

She snickered. “Too much what? Too much trouble? Too much fun? Too much of a good thing? Or maybe too much effort?”

“No way. That’s the problem with you women. You lay traps for us guys to trip into. I’m not touching that one even if I’m drowning and it’s the only thing that floats.”

In a good mood, they reached the old structure. Dan held the wide, warped door open for Carlie. “Rich, the Millers’ oldest son, brought out some pillows and bedding,” he said. “You should be pretty comfortable.”

She frowned. “What about you?”

“I’m keeping an eye out for trouble. Naps in the car aren’t so bad.”

“Great. Another guilt trip. I’m kinda tired of all the extra travel you’re taking me on.”

“Forget it. It’s my job. I’m used to stakeouts.”

She tilted her head and gave him a long look. “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me all about being an FBI guy. It’s not your everyday kind of job.”

“Neither is being married to the mob. So once you tell me, I’ll tell you.”

Carlie held out her hand. “You got yourself a deal, Mr. Secret Agent Man.”

He gave it a brief shake then let go as if burned. “Well. Ah…good night, Carlie.”

“You, too.”

She went inside, and on a pile of fresh-smelling hay against the rear wall Rich Miller had spread out the bedding. At one end, a pair of fluffy pillows were piled one on top of the other. All of a sudden, the strain of the recent upheavals overcame her.

Exhaustion claimed Carlie. She plopped down onto her makeshift bed, pulled the lightweight quilt over her shoulders, and dropped off faster than she thought possible.

A while later, she woke up. She had no idea what roused her, but she opened her eyes, her heart beating a frantic, furious pulse. Instead of her cozy quarters, she found herself in Dante’s vision of Hades.

Tongues of flames licked toward the roof, the walls, her nest of hay. Smoke made it hard to see—worse, to breathe. The billows swirled before, beside, behind the flames.

“Oh, Father…dear God. Your will be done.”

As she finished her scrap of prayer, she heard Dan’s yell.

“Hang on, Carlie! I’m coming for you.”

Everything went black.

THREE

Bit by bit, sound penetrated the thick, heavy darkness around Carlie. People jabbered, but she didn’t understand a word. A rushing noise whooshed behind the chatter, and the smell of a barbecue gone bad stung her nose.

Then she remembered the fire. She remembered the meal, the Millers, the bombed apartment. Did Tony’s slimy buddies get the farm, too?

She groaned. Everywhere she went, disaster and devastation followed.

A man called her name. He demanded that she breathe deeply. He commanded her to wake up. He ordered her not to die. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Carlie fought her heavy eyelids and tried to sit up.

No dice.

She needed someone to help her. The elephant who sat all over her body had to find a new seat, and the pins that held her eyes shut had to go.

But help didn’t come. At least, not the kind she wanted. Instead, she was lifted upward, through the air, a frightening experience eased somewhat by the firm support at her back. A woman spoke, but Carlie still couldn’t make out the words. Then she was poked, prodded, jostled, lifted, lowered, and then—finally—breathing wasn’t quite so hard anymore.

A weird wail started up, and Carlie fought against the weight of her eyelids. After a superhuman effort, she got them pried apart and wished she hadn’t. What she saw stunned her. Faces hovered just above her, weird gadgets hung beyond the faces, lights blinked, things clinked, and everything jerked and jolted to the tune of the ongoing wail.

“Carlie? Can you hear me, Carlie?”

She tried to answer, but her throat wouldn’t work. She tried to nod, but her head wouldn’t move—that scared her, so she tried to talk one more time.

“Don’t,” the female voice said. “Just blink if you can hear me. You have an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth, and that’ll make speech difficult.”

Oxygen mask! She blinked up a storm, but couldn’t ask the million and one questions that buzzed in her head. What had happened between Dante’s Inferno in a Mennonite barn and…where was she now? A hospital?

“Good,” the woman said. “You can hear me. Let me explain a few things for you.”

In a clear, soft voice, the woman told Carlie how Dan had axed a hole in the old, brittle wood walls of the small barn then dragged her out before the entire structure went up in flames. She’d passed out while in the burning building, and the Millers had called for the ambulance, which was now on its way to Lancaster General Hospital. The EMT wound up her explanation by insisting that Carlie was lucky to be alive.

But Carlie didn’t call it luck. She called it another of God’s many mercies. She couldn’t quite see a family like hers as any kind of luck, other than maybe the worst.

But where was Dan? Did he get hurt?

Carlie couldn’t stand the thought of her shadow being harmed because of her. But she couldn’t ask, and her head weighed about a ton. Her eyelids drooped again, and she slipped off for a nap.

Green and purple cows and orange and blue nails danced through her dreams.

“How much longer is she going to sleep?” Dan asked, frustrated.

Dr. Wong retained his calm. “We don’t know, Agent Maddox. It depends on how she reacts to pain meds, plus a number of other variables.”

“I have to get her out of here.” Dan began to pace. “They nearly got her this time.”

“This time?”

“That’s why she’s in the Witness Protection Program.” When they’d first brought Carlie into the hospital, Dan had no alternative but to reveal his identity and their situation. It was the only way he could get adequate protection for his charge.

“Then I’d better not ask you more questions.”

Relief felt good. “I appreciate that. And I appreciate the care you’re taking with her.”

“It’s all in a day’s work,” the young doctor said with a grin. “I’ll alert the rest of the staff. I’m sure they’re dying to know about Carlie’s vast and professionally serious extended family.”

“Thanks.” Dan hadn’t known how he was going to disguise the crew his boss, Eliza, had sent. The doctor’s understanding would go a long way in keeping things under some kind of control.

“But, Mr. Maddox?” the doctor said. “You yourself need to rest. You took in a big wallop of smoke, almost as much as Carlie did. And those burns of yours can get infected very easily.”

Dan shrugged. “It’s all in a day’s work.”

“Tripped up by my own words.” Dr. Wong punctuated his words with a wry grin. He tapped his forehead in a salute, then turned and left the room.

Dan returned to his sentry post on the nasty green pleather chair next to Carlie’s bed. But his patience wasn’t much to write home about, and before too long, he paced again from the foot of the bed to the large window that looked out on congested traffic.

“Noooooooo!”

The ear-splitting scream shocked him still for a moment. Then he spun, ran to Carlie’s side, and found her scooted up hard against the headboard, her legs bent at the knee, her medicine tree tipped partway over the bed.

Horror contorted her beautiful features, and the slight smudge of soot under her right eye, one the nurses missed when they’d cleaned her, added to the atypical, weirdly tough-girl look she now wore.

“Get out of here!” she yelled. With her non-IVed hand, she scrabbled through the pile of sheets and blanket at her side. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she wanted to find, who she wanted to summon.

“It’s okay, Carlie. It’s me, Dan Maddox. You’re fine. The hospital and I are taking good care of you.”

A bulldog expression replaced the horror on her face. “I don’t know what your game is, bub, but you’re not Dan Maddox. He has gorgeous blond hair. You don’t have any.”

Something in Dan leaped when she admired his hair. But it soon settled down thanks to reality. “Carlie, it is me. They shaved my head because so much of my hair got singed when I went after you in the barn.”

She wrinkled her nose, and drew close. “You sound like Dan, but you look a little alien, kind of like that weird guy on the bottle, that Mr. Clean on TV commercials.”

“Gee, thanks. I’ve always wanted to make a beautiful woman think of floor cleaner.”

“Now I know you’re not Dan Maddox. He’d never tell me I’m beautiful. He’d call me trouble, a pain, crazy and who knows how many other snotty names.”

What could he tell her? That he had to force himself to think of her along those “snotty” lines to keep him from thinking of her as the drop-dead gorgeous woman she really was? That he didn’t want to admit her quirky sense of humor made it tough for him to keep from laughing? That he was scared to death he might fall for her over the duration of his assignment?

Not in this lifetime.

“I’m sorry you think I’m snotty, but you are a handful,” is what he went with. “And you don’t make my job—keeping you alive—any easier.”

“Oh.” She seemed to melt into her pillow. “You are Dan after all. Well, I guess that’s good. You really look scary, though. Wouldn’t want to bump into you in a dark alley.”

“Maybe that’ll help us. Just think. Maybe I’ll scare your brother’s buddies away.”

She snorted. “That’s not even funny. They’re pretty determined.” She settled down under her blanket again. “So what’s our next move?”

“It’s not all sewn up yet, but one thing’s for sure. We’re leaving the mid-Atlantic area ASAP. They got your apartment, and they followed us to the Millers’ place.”

Before Carlie had a chance to comment, a knock at the door drew their attention. Dan slipped his hand inside his jacket then nodded for her to answer.

He never would have guessed the identity of her visitor. Fourteen-year-old Jonas Miller walked in, his steps hesitant, his face flushed, his old-fashioned button-down shirt and dark navy pants an odd contrast to his youth.

“Jonas!” she exclaimed. “How are you? Do your parents know you’re here?”

Pure misery filled his adolescent face. “Ja. They know. They made me come. They even brought me.”

She blinked. “I see. And why would that be?”

The boy looked down at his feet and mumbled something Dan didn’t catch. Obviously, neither did Carlie, since she asked him to repeat himself.

“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Carlie looked more puzzled than ever, but her voice came out soft, gentle, caring. “What are you sorry about, Jonas? What is the ‘this’ that happened?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t mean for the old barn to burn.”

“And that means…?”

“That it was all my fault.” Jonas looked ready to cry. “I—I know it was wrong, but the guys are always mocking me, so I figured I’d better practice for the next time after school.”

Dan knew what was up, but Jonas had to do this on his own.

“What were you practicing?” Carlie asked.

Jonas shifted his weight from foot to foot. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Then he seemed to come to a decision, squared his shoulders and stared straight at Carlie.

“I don’t want to choke when I smoke again!”

Carlie’s reaction was a quick blink. Dan had to fight the laugh on its way out. Then his mob widow surprised him—again.

“That’s the easiest thing,” she told Jonas. “All you have to do is not smoke. You’ll never choke that way. And those ‘friends’ will be the ones to worry about lung cancer and emphysema while you’re still healthy as a horse. You’ll have the last word.”

“But these guys already tease me because…well, I…I…”

The poor kid’s face turned redder than pizza sauce.

He shrugged. “I get good grades. It’s not so hard. I just go to class, do the homework, and that’s it. But they think I’m some kind of sissy.”

“Jonas, my man,” Carlie said, a smile on her lips. “Come on over here. Have a seat in Dr. Carlie’s office. You and I need to have us a chat.”

Dan’s admiration grew as each one of the next fifteen minutes went by. With her sense of humor and brilliant smiles, Carlie soon had the teen laughing with her. By the time she was done, Dan knew Jonas Miller would never pick up another cigarette. And he genuinely regretted the fire he’d caused. Then Carlie threw him for a loop.

She held her hand out to Jonas and invited him to join her in prayer. For some strange reason, their earnest expressions did something to him. He didn’t back off as he normally would have, but instead he stayed and watched them, their heads close, their hands clasped, their voices low and intense.

An odd pang hit him, a sudden loneliness, nothing he’d experienced before, something he hoped never hit him again. It was a restless sensation, an urge for some unknown something, a sense of need.

After they said amen, Jonas headed for the door. “Bye, Miss Carlie.”

“Now you just wait one cotton pickin’ minute there, Jonas Miller.” Carlie’s fake scolding dripped with her trademark humor. “You don’t think you can leave here without giving me a hug, do you?”

Dan watched the boy, one whose background inspired reserve, bend down to Carlie and give her the hug she’d asked for. It was an awkward, stiff hug, but a hug is a hug is a hug.

Amazing.

A nurse came into the room as Jonas left and she shooed Dan away. She insisted he had to go so she could take Carlie’s vital signs. He left, went to the snack shop downstairs, and bought himself a bucket of coffee and a gooey sticky bun. Of course, as soon as he bit into the pastry, his cell phone rang.

“Yeah,” he mumbled around the mouthful of delicious dough.

“How’s it going?” asked his partner, J.Z. Prophet.

“If I said bad to worse, it wouldn’t begin to give you a clue.”

“What’s the deal? The family’s after you again?”

“They never stopped.” Dan gave J.Z. a brief rundown of the latest events, even told his partner about Jonas’s ill-fated attempt at being cool. That made them both laugh, but didn’t ease their concern.

“You know what’s got to happen, don’t you?” J.Z. asked.

“Yeah. We’ve got to hit the road again. I’m just waiting for Eliza to let me in on the secret of our destination.”

“And she’s no more cooperative than usual.”

“You got it.”

“Well, Maryanne and I will keep you both in our prayers. Be safe.”

The prayer bit made Dan squirm on his stool. He ignored that statement, and said, “You, too.”

He hurried to finish his pastry and the transfusion of caffeine. He had to get back to Carlie. Who knew what kind of trouble she’d kicked up by now? The woman needed a keeper, and unfortunately, the Bureau had picked him for the job.

The second he stepped into the elevator, his cell phone rang again. This time, the caller wasn’t quite as welcome as his previous one.

“Yes, Eliza. Do you have instructions for me?”

In brief, his boss gave him a laundry list of steps to follow. When she finally disclosed their ultimate destination, Dan couldn’t stop his groan.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Eliza. That’s inhuman.”

“Live with it, Maddox. It’s the best solution for a difficult situation. Or to be more accurate, the best solution for a difficult witness.”

He didn’t much care to hear his snippy boss refer to Carlie that way; it was different when he did it. He knew Carlie, while Eliza had just met her once or twice during the investigation into Carlo Papparelli’s murder.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll take off as soon as the doctors let her go.”

“You might not want to wait that long, Agent Maddox. I won’t tell you how to do your job, even though I can, and you know it, but don’t think time is on your side.”

The elevator door opened just as Dr. Wong walked out of Carlie’s room. “I hear you loud and clear, Eliza. And now I have to go meet with Carlie’s doctor. I’ll let you know as soon as we hit the road.”

Dan hurried to catch up with the doctor. He explained the need for speed, the urgency of the situation.

But Dr. Wong refused to commit. “I’ll discharge her as soon as she’s ready to go.”

He wouldn’t budge from that stance, no matter what Dan said. So, more frustrated than ever, he retreated to Carlie’s room.

“Hey, Sunshine,” she called when he walked in. “What’s with the joy and happiness?”

That was all he needed: Carlie in one of her more outrageous moods. How was he going to break the news to her?

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m a lot better. But it still feels like I breathed in a bunch of mascara brushes.”

Mascara brushes? “Then I hope you cough out the little porcupines faster than you breathed them in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re going to have to feel well enough to sneak out of here sometime tomorrow. We have to get going while we still can.”

Her eyes widened, and she swallowed hard. “Where are we going? Or can’t you say?”

“I shouldn’t say anything, but I know how hard this has been on you. Prepare yourself. We’re headed for the steam bath better known as Florida in August.”

Once again, Carlie took his words and turned them upside down. “Really?” she asked, excitement in her voice. “I’ve always wanted to go to Florida! Promise me one thing.”

“I’m not promising anything. Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you whether we can work it out.”

She sat up and crossed her arms. “Work it out, nothing. You owe me, Secret Agent Man. You wouldn’t take me shopping at the outlets, so now you have to take me to see the Mouse. We, Danny Boy, are going to Disney World.”

Dan had the sinking feeling he’d lost control of his assignment. And the loss was all because of a beautiful blonde, her killer smile and his growing desire to please her.

He was in trouble. And it had nothing to do with the mob.

It was the mob widow who posed the danger, to his health.

His heart’s health.