Tymber Dalton - It’s a Sweet Life

The men slowly undressed her and them and gently made love to her until well past dark. Then Allan got up and fixed them some leftovers. They ate in bed and watched TV, Libbie nestled between them.

Libbie curled against Ben’s side. “Ben fits you better than Ken,”

she said.

He kissed her temple. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She looked back at Allan. “You’re sooo not a Charles.”

He gave her a sad smile. That more than anything nearly broke her heart and started her crying again. “I don’t care what you call me as long as you still love me the way I love you.”

They made love several times into the night, and again the next morning. Then they took turns showering with her, Allan first, then Ben, and helped her get dressed.

She sat on the couch in their living room with Galileo in her lap.

Even the cat seemed to sense something wrong in the air and didn’t It’s a Sweet Life 209

object to her frequently hugging him to her chest.

They were packed and ready to go by nine. Ben gave her a new, disposable phone.

“We’ll call you on this, okay? It’s going to come up unavailable, and I don’t want you calling us. I’m not kidding when I say these people are vicious animals. I know what I’m doing. I have to keep you safe.”

She nodded. “What if there’s an emergency?”

He handed her one of Allan’s business cards. “There’s my work cell, on the back, and his. But never call these unless it’s an emergency, okay?”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she held the card. “Where will you be? Can I send you cards or letters, at least?”

He sighed and took the card back, jotting Allan’s home address on it. “Never put your return address on it. Do not mail anything from Brooksville. Mail it from Tampa or Orlando. And don’t ever write your name on anything. If someone snags our mail, I don’t want them having a way to trace it back to you.” He returned the card to her.

She walked downstairs with them, struggling not to cry.

Allan wrapped his arms around her. “Remember, I love you, baby.

And I’m coming back to you. I promise. This is only temporary. You have to be strong for us.”

“I love you, too.”

Ben hugged her next. “We’ll call you on Sunday, every Sunday, around ten at night. I promise. When I figure out a better way to stay in touch that’s safe, we’ll do it. All right?”

She nodded.

He kissed her. “I love you. Like he said, this is temporary. You can do this, I know you can.”

“I love you, too.”

She watched their truck until it turned the corner. Then she sat on the back stoop and cried. That was where Grover found her almost an hour later, and he sat with her, an arm around her shoulders, until she 210 Tymber Dalton

finally let him take her upstairs and help her into bed.

Allan stared out the window. “Why did you tell her we were staying at my house?”

“I needed to give her an address. Something.”

“I don’t like lying to her now.”

Ben let out a sigh. “Your mail is still getting forwarded to the private box by the remailer. It’ll be untraceable.” He’d set up permanent forwarding to a pack and ship place, who then mailed everything in weekly batches to another box where they had instructions to hold it. His same friend who was holding on to Ben’s car went once a week to empty the box. All of Allan’s regular monthly expenses for the house, like electricity and water, were deducted automatically from his bank account. Even his lawn maintenance company received an automatic payment.

The wonders of technology.

Allan watched the landscape speed by as they headed south on I-75. Since they were returning to Miami, Ben saw no need to take the slow, circuitous route they’d used to leave it. They’d spend the night at a hotel before contacting their bosses and the investigators in charge of the case and deciding what to do next.

They’d agreed they would not mention Libbie or where they’d been staying. They didn’t know who they could trust, or who might accidentally reveal information to someone working for Bianco.

Ben drove in silence. Allan finally spoke when they stopped for gas south of Sarasota. “This fucking sucks,” he quietly said.

Ben hesitated before getting out. “It’s for the best. You know it is.

I didn’t say I liked it.” He got out and pumped gas.

When he returned, Allan looked at him. “We’ve broke her heart by leaving like this. You realize that, right?”

He slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “She’s fucking It’s a Sweet Life 211

alive to be hurting. You realize that, too, right? And to me that’s a lot more fucking important fact.”

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the drive.

212 Tymber

Dalton

As March bled into April, time seemed to slow and drag, every overcast day reflecting Libbie’s mood, while every sunny day mocked her for thinking she could ever be happy.

The only consolation she felt was that at the end of the trial, she’d be together with her men again. Hopefully for good this time.

She followed the case’s progress online via both The Miami Herald’s website and local TV station reports. There wasn’t information every day, because testimony wouldn’t start for a couple of months yet due to more issues raised by the defense.

Occasionally, she was rewarded with a brief glimpse of Allan standing in the background during press conferences.

Well, she suspected it was Ben and not Allan, from his dark hair and the hard look she spotted in his eyes, always searching the crowd.

She’d avoided talking to Mandaline about her issues, managing to disappear when her friend came for her daily order. Grover knew the full truth about why they’d left. Grover told Ruth and Jenny that one of the men’s relatives had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and the men had traveled back to Nebraska to be with their family during the trying time.

One Friday toward the end of April, she couldn’t take it any longer. She needed more than just Grover’s sympathetic expressions and hugs.

She needed to vent.

Libbie walked across the square to Many Blessings, relieved to find the storefront empty and Mandaline the only one behind the counter.

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213

Mandaline grinned when Libbie walked in. “You’re looking good, mama! You’re positively glowing…” She rounded the counter to hug Libbie, her expression changing. “Except for that Goddessawful frown. Why are you so sad? What happened? What’s wrong?”

Libbie had given up trying to deny her friend apparently had a hot line to the supernatural. “I miss my guys.” Then, surprising herself, she burst into tears.

Mandaline hustled her back through a beaded curtain into the tiny office and made her sit in a comfy chair next to her desk. “Spill it.”

She couldn’t tell all of it, not without breaking Allan and Ben’s strict admonitions about keeping the truth hidden. But she told what she could. “I can’t tell you everything, but…Ken and Charles aren’t who they said they were. And you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

Mandaline crossed her heart and twisted her fingers over her lips.

“They were hiding out ahead of a trial. They’re on the good side, don’t worry. And they’re brothers, not cousins. And…well, obviously, they aren’t gay.”

Mandaline let out a braying laugh full of warmth. “Sweetie, I knew from the moment I laid eyes on them that they were neither gay nor country boys from Nebraska.” Her smile faded. “I just didn’t know what or why they felt they had to lie about who they were. All I knew was their auras were warm and full of light.” She sighed. “I wondered what had happened, why you were so scared. When do you get to see them again?”

Libbie shrugged. “It’s not safe. It’s a mob trial. They’re worried if the guy finds out about me that he’ll try to hurt or kill me to get to them.”

“They’re within driving distance?”

“Yeah.”

“You should go see them.”

“But they said it wasn’t safe.”

“Does this mobster know who you are?”

214 Tymber

Dalton

Libbie shook her head.

“Does he even know you exist?”

“No.”

“Okay then. Your overprotective men are likely suffering from an overabundance of caution. Admirable, but misguided.” She smiled again. “They’ll get over it when you show up on their doorstep. I guarantee they’re missing you as much as you’re missing them. And they need you now as much as you need them.”

Libbie decided to leave on Sunday, after stewing about it for more than a day following her talk with Mandaline.

“You sure you want to do this, sugar?” Lines of concern etched Grover’s face.

“Yeah. I miss them so much.” She wasn’t looking forward to the drive with the deep ache in her body, not to mention the occasional queasiness she’d been having, but she knew a night in her men’s arms would make it more than worth it. “They’re all I can think about. I’ll come back Tuesday night. You can put up a sign on the door if you want instead of opening.”

He waved that suggestion away. “We can run the place, don’t worry. I’ll just make the usuals, nothing fancy. And I’ll take care of the brat cat for you.” His brow furrowed. “They said it’d be dangerous to be with them until after the trial ended.”

“I know. But I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Miami is a really big place. I can’t imagine there being any trouble.”

He let out a heavy sigh and straightened, taking a step away from the car door. “Yes, you are a big girl. But it don’t mean I won’t worry about you every minute you’re gone. You make sure you call me, okay?”

She nodded. “I will.”

She pulled out and made her way to head east on SR 50 to the It’s a Sweet Life 215

interstate. She’d take I-75 all the way down to Alligator Alley and across to Miami. With gas and bathroom stops, she figured she could make it in about five hours.

I’m done waiting. Sitting on her hands praying their weekly call would come sucked.

Libbie glanced at the phone they’d given her, which sat on the passenger seat. Yes, tonight was their call night. She planned to be in Miami by the time she received it, to meet them somewhere, even if only for a few hours. She missed them, wanted them. Wanted to be in their arms.

Wanted to have a good, long cry, with more than her pillow and Galileo to comfort her.

When she reached the eastern end of Alligator Alley just after ten that night, she heard the disposable phone beep that a voice mail awaited her. Which was odd, because she’d never heard it ring.

They should have called by now.

Frowning, she reached for it while not taking her eyes off the road. She held it up and glanced at the screen.

No missed calls, but the voice mail icon flashed. So did the roaming icon.

Swearing, she put it on speaker mode and hit the speed dial button for voice mail.

“Hey, babe, it’s Allan. We’re just checking in for our weekly call.”

“I’m here, too,” Ben chimed in.

“We miss you. We’ll try calling back in a little while. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Ben added.

She hit save and dropped the phone back onto the passenger seat.

From the time stamp on the voice mail, it had arrived while she was in the middle of the Alley.

216 Tymber

Dalton

Must not have had cell reception.

When she stopped for gas twenty minutes later, taking a moment to run inside to use the bathroom and grab a snack, she swore again upon finding she had another voice mail waiting on her phone when she returned to the car.

And still no missed call alerts. The flashing of the roaming icon seemed to mock her.

“Shit!”

As always, she had no phone number where she could call them back. The number showed up as unavailable on her screen.

For the hell of it, she tried the cells Ben and Allan had used while in Brooksville and left voice mail messages for both of them.

While she appreciated their concern, the situation wore on her and had taxed what little remained of her patience. “Bianco be damned, I’m sick of not being with my guys,” she muttered under her breath.