Tymber Dalton (26 page)

“Slow and steady,” he said, his blue eyes boring into hers. “Try to come for me like this, baby.” He dipped his head and kissed her.

Libbie closed her eyes and let not just the sweet sensuality of his body, but the knowledge of his love flow through her. She felt connected to him like never before. Moving together, she matched his movements, her clit brushing against his body with every stroke. When many long minutes later her orgasm struck her, it might have been less powerful physically, but it brought her to tears.

“I love you, Libbie,” he whispered in her ear as his hips quickened, staying with her and waiting until he knew she was finished to pick up the pace even more.

Her fingers clutched at his, squeezing as she felt as well as heard his release.

“I love you, too, Ben,” she said back.

He cleaned up and returned to bed, tucking her into his arms and whispering “I love you” into her hair, softly, until she fell asleep.

* * * *

She was tightly snuggled against Ben when she heard the men’s truck pull up outside and park under her living room window before the engine shut off. Ben had fallen deeply asleep, his arms securely wrapped around her and his warm breath blowing against her shoulder. Then the sound of the downstairs door opening and closing came to her, followed by Allan’s steps on the stairs.

She still had to pause to think of him as Allan. Although, in retrospect, the name fit him better than Charles.

She heard their apartment door open and close. A few moments later, her apartment door opened and his footsteps crossed the living room.

Libbie looked up when he stepped into the bedroom doorway. He smiled at her and crossed the bedroom, prepared to give her a kiss. “Hi, sweetie,” he whispered as he leaned in.

She smiled. “Hi, Allan.”

He froze, blinking in shock. “What?”

Behind her, Ben stirred. “Secret’s out, bro,” he mumbled.

Before Allan could straighten, she grabbed the front of his jacket. “What about my kiss?”

He smiled, but it looked a little odd. He leaned in and kissed her hello. “What happened?”

She patted the bed next to her. He pulled off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Then he kicked off his shoes and settled next to her.

“We went to the store,” Ben said, sounding a little more awake. “An acquaintance of yours thought I was you. She got friendly with me, and Libbie saw it. I didn’t have a choice but to come clean with her.” He brushed the hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed her, making her heart and her pussy flutter.

She poked Allan in the chest. “She’d better be a past acquaintance.”

“Who was it?” Allan asked.

“Some woman,” Ben said. “A Leeza something or other. Said she’ll hit you up on Facebook.”

Allan closed his eyes and groaned. “Shit. Leeza Maxwell?”

“Yeah. That was it.”

Allan looked at her. “Babe, I’m so sorry. She’s definitely a past acquaintance. She was a bartender I dated for a few weeks early last year. She moved and I didn’t keep in touch with her.”

Libbie arched an eyebrow at him. “Dated?”

“Slept with. All right?” He palmed her cheek. “But not now. Now, I don’t want to be with anyone but you.” His eyes searched her face as he waited for her to speak.

“He told me about the trial.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at Ben behind her before holding her gaze again. “It’s going to be a long one, unfortunately.”

“And I can’t see you guys while it’s going on?”

He shook his head. “It’d be too dangerous. Bianco is notorious for using whatever means necessary to get his way.”

“I thought mobsters didn’t mess with families.”

“They didn’t used to,” Allan said. “Years ago, that was taboo. Now, they don’t care. And Bianco is too desperate, wants to make as much of this go away as possible. That’s why I’m taking a backseat and only doing support work on the trial, but I still have to be there during the trial. I know the entire case front to back. I’ve practically memorized the files, and no one in my office knows it the way I do. We don’t want to give them any reason on appeal to use Ben and me being brothers to force a review or retrial for conflict of interest. The Feds have too much involved in this to let it get sunk like that. Our trial comes first, then the Feds are building on that for their case.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

She felt Ben’s arm tighten around her in support, but she forged ahead. “After the trial,” she softly said. “What happens then? What do you do?”

He smiled and leaned in, kissing her. “I’m thinking a private practice in a small, west central Florida town a little north of Tampa is just what I need now in my life.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “If you’ll have me.”

“Us,” Ben said.

Allan nodded. “Us. Both of us.”

Relief flooded her heart. She sat up and threw her arms around him. “Yes.”

“We’ve got a tip,” Barry Conner softly said from the doorway.

Victor Bianco looked up from his papers at his resident computer geek standing in the doorway. Bianco had been reduced to holding court in the back room of an auto repair shop he owned and used to launder cash through. The air compressor for the shop was positioned five feet directly behind his desk. He flipped a switch that made it spring to life. The noise defeated any electronic surveillance the Feds might have used. He motioned for Barry to come closer and leaned in to hear and be heard. “Well?”

“Brooksville. North of Tampa. Apparently, some woman who used to date Allan Donohue tagged him on her Facebook wall yesterday.”

Victor Bianco leaned back and templed his fingers together. “Really? I thought Donohue’s Facebook page was set to private and locked down tight.”

“Right. It is. She tagged him.” Bianco noticed the man held several pages of paper in his hand. He waved Barry closer to his desk, where Bianco took an offered piece of paper.

“
Kelly, guess who I ran into in Wallyworld? Allan Donohue,
” he read. The comment was tagged onto a picture over eight months old, of Donohue, along with several others, taken at a bar.

“She checked in via Foursquare at the Brooksville Walmart a little while before she made the comment.”

“Brooksville, hmm?” Bianco mused as he studied the picture. “Do we know where this Leeza Maxwell lives?”

“Yep,” Barry said, handing him another piece of paper. “I tracked her down. She lives in Spring Hill, just west of Brooksville.”

Bianco smiled up at his man. “Excellent. You don’t disappoint, do you?”

Barry’s face turned pink. Bianco had quickly learned the young man wasn’t used to receiving praise. He’d discovered that soon after hiring him upon the young man’s release from jail for hacking into a bank. “Just doing my job, sir.”

“And you do it well. On your way out, please send Enrique in.”

Barry quickly turned and left. Bianco was still studying the papers in his hand when Enrique walked in.

“You wanted to see me, boss?”

Bianco nodded at the door. “Close it.”

Enrique did, quickly closing the distance to Bianco’s desk, where he leveraged his bulk into the chair in front of the desk and leaned forward so he could hear over the compressor noise. “Whatcha got?”

“Let me thank you again for scouting Barry. He is an asset to our organization.”

Enrique’s massive shoulders lurched in a shrug. “Easy way for him to pay off his vig. My cousin gets the credit for the tip.”

“That’s another thing I like about you. You share credit but accept full blame when something goes wrong. I like that I can count on you.” Bianco handed over the papers. “Find her. Find out everything she knows about Allan Donohue and his current whereabouts. And then lose her. Permanently. I don’t care how it’s done or what it’s made to look like, because she has no ties to us.”

Enrique pinched the papers between fingers like sausages and looked them over. “Will do. Any deadline?”

Bianco arched an eyebrow at Enrique. “As soon as possible.”

“I’ll personally get right on it.”

Bianco flipped the switch again, shutting down the compressor. Enrique nodded and left the office without further comment, leaving Bianco to rub his temples. The compressor’s noise would drive him deaf or crazy if he couldn’t figure out a way to make the case go away.

* * * *

Ben sat at a table next to the front window of Many Blessings, sipping his coffee while reading the morning paper. He’d had an odd feeling ever since his run-in with Leeza Maxwell two days earlier. And cabin fever wasn’t helping the situation.

After the unnerving brush with the blast from Allan’s past and confessing the full truth to Libbie, he wanted Allan and himself to stay as close to the bakery as possible, excluding their runs elsewhere for conference calls. Even Allan agreed, when they discussed it outside Libbie’s presence, that it would be best for them to keep their heads even lower than before.

Libbie wouldn’t reveal their secret. Ben felt a mixture of relief and guilt over their secret being out, yet her now bearing the additional burden of keeping it.

I won’t let her get hurt.

At least now they had their true feelings out in the open and he could release his guilt over lying to her. She not only didn’t send them packing, she seemed to bear a deeper, more peaceful air about her.

He kept the final goal in mind. Yes, they would have to spend time away from her during the lengthy trial. No doubt they could arrange some sort of getaway, maybe once a month, fly her somewhere and meet her there.

After taking all precautions to not be followed.

He’d seen firsthand the lengths Victor Bianco would go to stay ahead of law enforcement. The men whose deaths he’d helped fake were only the ones he’d been able to save. The lucky ones.

To this day, he was haunted by crime scene and autopsy photos of the victims he’d been unable to help. Including women.

Not to mention the people who’d disappeared without a trace.

Patience pays
, he reminded himself. He’d testify, Victor Bianco would go down for life in prison, and the three of them could have a life together.

* * * *

Four days after Ben’s encounter with Leeza Maxwell, he was again sitting in Many Blessings and reading the newspaper when what little feeling of security he had shattered.

On the front page of the local section, a headline and picture screamed at him.

Local Woman Killed in Apparent Home Invasion.

Leeza Maxwell.

“Shit!” He grabbed the paper and bolted from the store and across the square, dodging cars and pedestrians alike. When he stormed into the bakery, he ran past a woman at the counter, ignoring Libbie’s concerned look as he did. He snagged Allan’s arm and dragged him into the back.

“Dude, what the he—”

Ben shoved the paper in his brother’s face and waited as he caught his breath.

“Shit.” Allan took the paper from him and turned away, reading.

Libbie finished with the customer and hurried into the back. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Ben swallowed hard. He’d hoped they would have another month with her, at least. Maybe longer if Bianco’s legal beagles stalled things and filed motions to delay.

But not now. They couldn’t risk it.

They couldn’t put Libbie at risk.

Allan had finished reading and turned. “This…this has to be a coincidence.”

“Bullshit,” Ben said. “You know it as much as I do. She runs into ‘you’ and then days later, she’s dead?”

“What’s going on?” Libbie demanded again. “Who’s dead?”

Ben took the paper from Allan and handed it to Libbie. “That’s Leeza Maxwell, the woman who mistook me for Allan.”

Her mouth formed a shocked
O
as she read the story. Her hands shook, and he gently placed his over hers, waiting for her to look up at him once she finished reading.

“Baby, it’s not safe for us to stay here now. It’s a matter of time before Bianco finds us. We can’t risk you being caught in the middle like that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care. You don’t have to go yet. The trial isn’t supposed to start for a while.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her but heard Allan’s resigned sigh. “He’s right,” Allan quietly said. “It’s too risky.”

Ben hated that tears brimmed in her sweet green eyes. “How could they possibly find you here? You could be anywhere. You don’t even know it was Bianco who killed her. It could have been a coincidence.”

“In law enforcement,” Ben said, “you learn that coincidences like this happen far less often than we wish they did. Usually, there is a connection.” He looked at Allan. “We’ll need to go talk to the detective in charge of the case.”

“And what if there isn’t a connection?” she said, sounding borderline hysterical. “What if they find out it’s an ex-boyfriend or stupid junkie that killed her? That means you can stay, right?”