It's a Sweet Life

Chapter Nineteen

“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 202 Tymber Dalton

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 It’s a Sweet Life 203

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 204 Tymber Dalton

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?”

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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?”

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 206 Tymber Dalton

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.”

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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.”

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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 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.

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