Tymber Dalton (27 page)

He gently cupped her cheek. “Libbie, we can’t—we
won’t
—put you in danger. This is too much of a coincidence to not be related.”

Allan stepped behind her. His arms encircled her waist. “We need you to be strong, sweetheart. We’ll be together when the trial is over, but until that wraps up, we need you to be strong for us. We need to know you’re okay.”

* * * *

“Okay?” Libbie spun in his arms. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “No, I’m not okay! You two are going to walk out of my life, and you want me to be strong? Bullshit! I love you, both of you, and you said you love me. If you love me, you can’t leave me like this!”

Worse than it being hard to catch her breath, it felt like her heart was breaking.

Allan stared down at her. “Sweetheart, we
do
love you. That’s why we can’t risk Bianco finding out who and where you are. You can do this for us. I know you can. We’ll figure out something. We’ll talk on the phone. We’ll figure out ways to meet with you, but we can’t risk him finding out about you right now and coming after you.”

She stared at them, numb. She never dreamed they’d have to leave this soon. “This isn’t fair,” she finally managed. “Not now, not so soon after…” She couldn’t say it.

Not so soon after finally knowing you love me as much as I love you.

Ben pulled her to him and kissed her. “We have to go talk to the detective in charge of the case. We’ll know more then. Okay?”

She nodded.

* * * *

Ben knew the grim look on Allan’s face mirrored his own. He drove them to the Hernando County Sheriff’s Office headquarters, where after a call he’d learned the detective in charge of the case was based. Detective Anderson led them to his office, where he shut the door behind them before taking his seat.

“What can I do for you gentlemen today?”

Ben and Allan both showed him their real IDs after they sat, but Ben did the talking. “We need to discuss Leeza Maxwell’s murder with you.”

Detective Anderson frowned. “No offense, but why is Miami-Dade interested in a home invasion in Hernando County?”

“Get comfortable,” Ben said. “This will take a while.”

Twenty minutes later, when Ben finished telling their story, Anderson wore a frown. “I’m glad you came forward.” He tapped on his computer keyboard for a moment before turning the screen to face them.

On it, Leeza Maxwell’s Facebook page. Specifically, a comment she’d posted on a photo.

Ben and Allan both leaned in to read it.

“Damn it,” Allan whispered.

Anderson nodded. “It would seem not to be a random coincidence, based on what you’ve just told me.”

Ben scrubbed at his face with his hands, feeling weary to the core of his being. “That does it.” He looked at Allan. “We have to leave. We can’t stay here and put Libbie at risk.”

“Who’s Libbie?” Anderson asked.

“She’s…a friend of ours.” Ben stared at the screen, at the profile pic of the young woman who died three weeks shy of her twenty-seventh birthday. “We’ve been renting an apartment from her.”

“Presuming there is a connection to the Bianco case, is there any information Leeza Maxwell could have given them that would lead them to you?”

Ben shook his head. “No. And she thought I was Allan anyway.”

An hour later, they sat in silence in the truck outside the sheriff’s office building.

Allan spoke first. “Tomorrow, at least? Not tonight. Please, not tonight.”

He had to catch his breath and nodded without speaking.

More silence. “How do we do this? I know it’s temporary, but how do we get through this knowing we’re leaving her alone?”

Ben started the truck. “I don’t know,” he hoarsely said, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. “If you figure it out, please tell me.”

* * * *

Libbie knew it from the looks on their faces when they returned. Allan took her upstairs while Ben went to pull Grover aside and talk to him.

“When are you leaving?” she asked, dreading his answer.

He gently cupped her cheeks in his palms. “Tomorrow.” When she started to cry, he said, “But remember, it’s only temporary, baby.”

Ben joined them a short time later. “I…ah, I told Grover the basics. He understands and he’ll do the daily closing. And he said he’ll handle opening tomorrow, too.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Please, we need you to be strong for us. We don’t want to do this, but it’s to keep you safe.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

“You have a business to run, and it won’t be safe to have you stay with us.” He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom where he gently laid her on the bed. “But we aren’t leaving right this minute.”

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 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 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
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.

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.

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?”

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.”