Married To The Mob. Ginny Aiken

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ