It's a Sweet Life

Chapter Twenty-One

Ben left Allan waiting for him in the stairwell of the parking garage while he retrieved the rental car. When he pulled up to the stairwell door, Allan dove into the backseat and kept his head down.

“We’ll go get your car,” Ben said. “Hopefully, no one’s found it yet. You stay down when we get there, and I’ll get into your car. Give me ten minutes before you get out of the backseat, and then you drive straight to the office.”

“Bullshit. I’m going to the house with you.”

Ben fought the urge to pound on the steering wheel. He’d quickly grown used to taking evasive maneuvers in busy Miami traffic and spent fifteen minutes weaving his way north before jumping on the Florida Turnpike to head south again toward the parking garage where he’d left Allan’s car the night before. They’d been using the garage for nearly two weeks, with no sign yet of any of Bianco’s men finding or following them there, but he’d felt the need to start using yet another one.

Paranoid, yes. But they were both still alive.

“Why the hell would she do this?” Allan asked from the backseat.

“We told her it wasn’t safe.”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to spank her ass for it when we find her.”

“If we find her.”

Ben’s fingers clamped tightly around the steering wheel. “When,”

he insisted.

Allan went silent for a few minutes. “It’s got to be rough on her. I don’t see why we can’t call her more often.”

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“Look, this isn’t a perfect solution, I know, but it’s what’s safest for her.”

More accusatory silence from the backseat. Then, “I miss her.”

Ben tried to rein in his anger. “I miss her, too. Believe me.”

“I’m turning in my resignation this week.”

The announcement startled Ben so much he nearly missed his exit.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Allan’s voice sounded quiet.

“But what about the trial?”

“I’m done. I’m sick of Miami. I used to think it’s what I wanted. I know we haven’t talked about this a lot, and I don’t know for sure what your plans are, but I’ve been thinking a family law practice in Brooksville sounds like a good idea. Now, I’m sure it is.”

An additional weight Ben hadn’t realized he’d been carrying suddenly rolled from his shoulders. No, they hadn’t talked much about it. He’d been too busy caught up with Libbie and then trying to get them back to Miami and keep them safe. “I think every law practice needs an in-house security specialist.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He rolled to a stop at a red light and forced himself not to look over the seat at his brother in case anyone had followed them. “I looked into what it’d take for me to get a PI license. I could also check into doing work for insurance companies. You know, claims work.”

“I know a certain sweet little baker who would enjoy your help in her shop.”

Ben felt a smile crease his lips. It felt like weeks since he’d smiled. “Yeah, I’d also thought about that.”

“Look at that, we both have baking to fall back on if our careers don’t pan out,” Allan joked, getting a laugh from his brother. “I never thought you’d ever give up being a cop.”

Ben urged the car forward when the light turned green. “Neither did I. But I never thought we’d ever meet a woman like Libbie, either.

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And I’ve given up enough of my personal life. I’ve lived, eaten, and breathed the Bianco crime family for the past three years. I’m ready to start living again. I’m too young for this shit. I want a family. And I also don’t want Libbie to get a call in the middle of the night like Mom did.”

“You mean it? You want a family?”

Ben felt his face heat. “Yeah,” he quietly said. “If Libbie does.”

It seemed like forever when Allan finally said, “Me, too.”

They reached the parking garage and Ben looked around. After parking on the second floor and waiting several minutes, no other cars came up. He moved to the fifth floor and shut the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition. Without turning around, he said, “Looks clear.

Give me ten, then please, go to your office. Okay? I’ll call you if I find her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to your house. I want to cruise by first, see if there’s anyone watching it. See if she’s there, waiting. We lied and told her we were staying there, remember?”

Allan sounded angry. “Yeah, I remember. I also told you I thought that was a bad idea at the time.”

“Yes, you told me so.” Ben let out a sigh. “Happy?”

“No. Not until we know she’s safe.”

“Go to your office. Wait for me there.” He got out before Allan could say anything else, closing the door and pocketing the set of house keys as if they were the car keys, just on the off chance anyone was watching them. He found the stairs and took them, two at a time, down to the third floor where Allan’s car was parked. From the safety of the stairwell doorway, he hit the button on the key fob to start the ignition and waited. After two minutes, when the car didn’t explode, he slowly approached it, opened the driver’s side door, then closed it again without getting in and retreated to the stairwell, leaving it sitting there running.

After another two minutes he deemed it safe and returned to the 226 Tymber Dalton

car. He got in, quickly leaving the garage after paying cash.

Yes, an overabundance of caution, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Bianco stooped to desperate measures to get Allan and him out of the way. Using explosives wasn’t Bianco’s method, but there was always a first time.

And he didn’t want to be that first time.

What he hadn’t revealed to Allan was that he no longer had a permanent address. He had a triple storage unit in West Palm Beach with most of his things in it, and a month-to-month cash lease on an extended stay hotel studio room in Margate before he checked out when they left for Brooksville. When he’d realized the Bianco case was going to trial, he’d quickly packed and moved out of his rented condo, knowing he needed the ability to leave fast with little trace.

Bianco was not a man who gave up easily. A permanent address was far less important to Ben than staying alive and healthy and keeping his brother in the same condition.

He quickly drove to Allan’s house, in a middle-class suburb almost all the way to Coral Gables.

He circled the block once, twice, happy to see people didn’t park on the street around here, meaning less likelihood of someone watching the house at that moment.

He pulled into the driveway but didn’t pop the garage door.

Walking around back, he didn’t see anyone inside the house, which he knew didn’t mean anything, but still was a good sign. He also didn’t see any signs of forced entry.

He returned to the front door and hurried in, shutting the alarm off.

Empty.

“Dammit.” No sign she’d been by, no note on the door, nothing.

While he was there he took the opportunity to grab a couple more suits out of Allan’s closet, then reset the alarm and locked the door behind him.

The only place he could go was to the office and to keep trying to It’s a Sweet Life 227

call her.

Allan forced himself to stick to the routines Ben had set up. He took an indirect route to the office, constantly checking his rearview mirror for anyone following him, and doubling back several times just in case.

All clear.

At the parking garage, he swiped his ID, which had Ben’s name on it even though it was his own picture, to get into the garage.

Because of the case, his office had issued “Ben” a special employee access pass to go through the back entrance, avoiding the main public entryway and enormous, and extremely busy, lobby area. He nodded to the bailiff on duty at a desk inside, showing his pass.

The bailiff waved him through.

Yet another of Ben’s ideas, to keep everyone in his office thinking he was Ben, and that Ben was him. Ben knew the case as well as he did. Depositions were actually handled by the lead attorneys on the case, so they didn’t have to worry about any charges of impropriety should the ruse be discovered before the trial started. Once the trial started, Ben would completely disguise himself and Allan would go back to his normal appearance.

They’d even swapped wallets.

Only behind closed doors would Allan get on the phone and handle calls related to the case, Ben listening in from behind Allan’s desk. No one could tell their voices apart.

Well, maybe Libbie can by now, he wistfully thought.

Ben, while still officially employed by the sheriff’s office, was only working behind the scenes doing support work and research on tech crime cases to keep him out of the office and out of harm’s way.

He could work on his cases from anywhere he had an Internet connection.

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Allan made it to his office without interruptions and closed the door behind him. His office assistant, thinking he was Ben, wouldn’t come in to bug him.

He started tackling calls to take his mind off the wait.

Libbie stared at the enormous lobby behind the glass entry doors.

As foggy as she felt, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

I want to see my guys.

With that thought in mind, she got in line behind several dozen others waiting to pass through a metal detector to gain entry to the building. By the time she made it into the main part of the lobby, she already felt mentally exhausted in additional to physically, and she had to sit down for a moment to rest.

There were signs all over, people hurrying to reach their destinations, and an ever-present loud buzz of voices, cell phone ringers, and noise from the metal detectors and waiting people reverberating off the tile floors and through the large space.

She felt like crying.

Buck up. You can do this.

Her flare was worse than she’d originally thought. She hadn’t had fibro fog this bad in months. No doubt triggered by the drive combined with stress and exhaustion and loneliness and worry about her men.

She started with one large sign of office listings and scanned through it when she realized her brain didn’t want to pick out a pattern to the arrangement. She could read names and office numbers, but it just didn’t make any sense. Allan’s business card had a street address, but no suite or office number. And without her cell, she couldn’t call to have him come down and meet her.

Looking around, she almost smacked herself in the forehead when she spotted two uniformed bailiffs standing behind an information It’s a Sweet Life 229

desk on the other side of the lobby. Libbie hurried over and waited her turn.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m here to see Allan Donohue. He’s in the State Attorney’s office.”

The bailiff nodded and said, “440.” He pointed. “To the left, elevator’s on the right, go left when you get to the fourth floor. Next.”

She put out a hand. “I’m sorry.” She offered him what she hoped wasn’t too pitiful a smile. “I’m…I’m not feeling good this morning. I have difficulty remembering things. Could you please write that down for me?” His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention more fully upon her. She took a deep breath. “Please? I have fibromyalgia and I couldn’t even drive this morning it’s so bad. I had to take a cab.”

His expression immediately softened as he reached for a piece of scrap paper. “Sorry. My sister has lupus. She has bad days like that, too.” He scribbled the information onto the paper for her and handed it to her. “If you can wait a few minutes, I can have another bailiff escort you if you need it.”

She wanted to cry at his kind tone. She took the paper. “No, that’s okay.” She glanced at the paper and it made sense to her foggy brain.

“This helps a lot. Thank you so much.”

He nodded. “Next.”

She found the elevators. She stood in line again, waiting, her heart racing. I’m so close. So close to seeing them.

When the sudden sting of tears prickled her eyes, she stepped out of line and hurried into the women’s room across from the elevators.

Locked into a stall, she cried for a few minutes.

Jeez, I’m even more emotional than usual. She didn’t know if it was the stress, or her frustration, or the kindness in the bailiff’s tone that triggered her. She hated the crying jags almost as much as she hated the fibro fog. And they’d been happening a lot lately over the past couple of weeks.

Once she composed herself and washed her face in the sink, she 230 Tymber Dalton

returned to the elevators and waited. The ride up felt like an eternity.

When she reached the fourth floor, she followed the instructions on the paper and ended up in front of the correct office.

After a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, she walked in. She had to wait for the receptionist at the front desk to finish with a call before she could talk to her.

“Hi, I’m here to see Allan Donohue, please.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s not in yet. Is he expecting you?”

Libbie struggled not to burst into tears right there. She hadn’t thought about the possibility of him not being in the office that time of morning. “Um, oh. Okay. Do you know when he’ll be in?”

“He’s due in at any time. He’s usually here by now.”

“May I wait for him?”

The phone rang again. Instead of responding to Libbie, she pointed to a waiting area in the corner and answered the phone.

Despondent, Libbie walked over to the waiting area and took a seat.

Allan answered his work cell on the first ring without looking.

“Donohue.”

“It’s me,” Ben said. “No luck.”

“Dammit.” He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He hated his hair long and shaggy.

And blond. Damn, he hated the blond.

“I’m on my way to the office now,” Ben said. “I should be there in about forty.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’ve already called Grover back. He hasn’t heard from her. He keeps getting her voice mail when he tries her cell, too. I’ve already tried calling both her regular cell and the disposable.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

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“I don’t have a fucking answer, okay? Let me get back there and we’ll talk about it and figure it out.”

Allan hung up and fought the urge to throw the cell phone against the wall. If anything happened to Libbie, he’d never forgive himself.

We should have been there for her. Fuck this goddamned trial.

He needed to get up, to walk around. Coffee. He headed out of the office and down the hall to the break room.

On his way back, he ran into the receptionist from the front desk.

“Oh, there’s a woman waiting to see Allan. Do you know when he’ll be in or should I just have her keep waiting?”

“He’s going to be a while.” He had several witness statements to go over today, but he’d thought the first one wasn’t coming in until well after lunch. “Send her back. I’ll talk to her.”

“Okay.”

He returned to the office and took his seat behind the desk. At least it would be something to keep his mind occupied and off Libbie.

He didn’t even look up from his laptop and the e-mail he was replying to when he sensed the woman step into the doorway. “Please come in and close the door behind you.”

It was the sound of a soft sob that jerked his head up. Libbie looked two seconds from a complete breakdown. He jumped up from his chair and ran over to her, shoving the door shut and snapping the lock before pulling her into his arms. “Baby! Oh my god, we’ve been so worried about you! Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“I…I wanted to see you…I’m sorry… I just…It kept roaming and missing calls and it died and I forgot it at the hotel and I needed a cab and I—” Her words dissolved into unintelligible sobs.

He sat with her on the sofa, consoling her, rocking her in his arms with his face buried in her hair. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m just glad you’re okay.” After a couple of minutes, she took a few deep, hitching breaths. “What’s that about a cab?” he asked. “What happened to your car?”

With her face pressed against his chest, she told him about her trip 232 Tymber Dalton

and her flare.

When she finished, he let out a sigh of relief. “We were so scared something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry. I really needed to see you.” Fresh tears followed. He didn’t have the heart to get up and grab his cell and disturb her in the process.

“Where are you staying? We need to get you back there.”

“I’m…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide in shock as she started crying again. “I don’t remember! It was so late last night and I was so tired…”

“Shh.” He started rocking her again, this time with his face pressed into her hair to hide the amused chuckle he desperately wanted to unleash. But in her fragile emotional state, she likely wouldn’t understand. He knew it was the fibro, but who the frak forgot where their hotel was? When their car and luggage and everything was there, too?

He had a thought. “Do you have a receipt from checkin?”

She sat up. “Oh. Yeah.” She grabbed her purse and dug through it, handing it to him.

He read it. “Okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and I’m going to take you back there.”

“Are you mad at me?”

He cupped her cheeks with his palms and kissed her, slowly, gently. “No, I’m not mad. Scared and upset and worried, yes. Well, I was. Now that I know you’re safe, no. But we need to get you out of here right now. I can’t let anyone else see you here.”

“What about Ben?”

“I’ll call him when we’re in the car.” He stood, grabbed his laptop and slammed it shut, and shoved it and his cell into his messenger bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He grabbed her purse then held his hand out to her. “Come on. We need to go right now.”

He led her through the back hallways and out to the parking garage. He hurried her to the car and opened the passenger door for It’s a Sweet Life 233

her. He only stopped to grab his cell from the messenger bag before dumping it in the backseat. Then he started the car and headed out.

He was halfway to her hotel when he finally reached Ben. “She’s safe.”

“What? Did you get hold of her?”

They were stopped at a red light. He looked at where she was slumped in the passenger seat with her eyes closed. “She’s right here.”

“What? At the office?”

“No. In the car.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“I’m not, dude. We’re in the car and heading for her hotel.” He read off the address. “Get your ass over there.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Look, we’ll talk when you get to the hotel. She’s in room…” He gently nudged her leg with his free hand.

She looked horrified. “I don’t remember.” A fresh round of tears started again.

“Did they write it on your keycard envelope?”

“Oh.” She sniffled and started rummaging through her purse again. “I did. I forgot I did that. Thanks.” She pulled the card envelope out. “302.”

“302. See you in a few.” He hit end, cutting Ben off in mid-rant.

Setting the phone in the center console, he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured her, hoping he could make it all okay for her.

He’d forgotten all about Ben’s safety procedures at the sight of her tears. It broke his heart that they’d done this to her when she already had so much to deal with on a daily basis. That she’d driven down to see them and they’d caused her even more pain and distress by not being where they’d said they’d be.

That she couldn’t even pick up a phone to call them when she just needed to hear their voices.

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He took the keycard from her and held her hand all the way up to her room. He put out the Do Not Disturb sign, flipped the dead bolt and security latch, and stretched out with her on the bed, holding her as she crashed into sleep in his arms.

Allan was almost ready to fall asleep when the pounding on the door startled him. Libbie stirred at the sound. He carefully untangled himself from her and looked through the peephole before unlocking the door for Ben.

When Ben raced in, Allan shushed him and pointed to Libbie asleep on the bed. He locked the door while Ben hurried to her side.

She slowly opened her eyes when he sat next to her on the bed and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“Hey,” he softly said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

Ben stretched out next to her, relief flooding him and temporarily shoving all thoughts of Bianco out of his head. As she snuggled in his arms, he inhaled her scent deeply, reassuring himself that she was truly safe. Until Allan had called him he’d struggled with horrible thoughts of never finding her, of something awful happening to her without him ever getting to see her again.

Or tell her one last time how much he loved her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

Her tiny voice ripped at his heart. “I’m okay.”

“Bullshit,” Allan said. “She’s not okay. She’s in a horrible flare.

She can’t drive back to Brooksville like this.”

“Tell us the truth.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have come. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

He pulled her close again. “Shh, it’s done. You’re here, and no, It’s a Sweet Life 235

I’m not happy you put yourself at risk, but I am happy to see you.

You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”

That seemed to quiet her.

“Now the truth. Tell us what’s wrong.”

She listed what he’d expected, the pain, weakness, lethargy.

“Worse, I think the naproxen’s making my stomach upset so I stopped taking it.”

“Why?” Allan asked as he sat on the other side of the bed.

“I keep feeling queasy in the mornings. It got a little better when I stopped taking it.”

Ben felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Queasy?”

“Just a little. Not bad.” She snorted. “The gift of fibro, symptoms that come and go and no clue if it’s related to fibro or anything normal.”

When he met Allan’s gaze, his brother’s eyes looked as wide and filled with shock as his own.

“Baby, when was your last period?” Allan asked.

“What?”

“Are you late?” Ben asked.

“I’m…” She sat up, her brow scrunched as she tried to think. “I don’t know. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been irregular off and on the past year or so. The doctor said I might be going into early menopause.”

“How long have you been queasy?” Allan asked.

“Just the past couple of…” Her eyes widened as she finally boarded their train of thought and handed the conductor her ticket.

“No!” She shook her head. “No. I can’t be.”

“How late are you?” Ben asked again.

“I don’t know. But we used condoms.”

“They’re not perfect,” Allan said.

“Where’s the closest drugstore?” Ben asked Allan.

“I saw a Walgreens a couple of blocks down.” He stood. “I’ll go.”

“Go where?” she asked.

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He leaned in and kissed her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back.” He glanced up at Ben. “Come lock the door after me.”

When they were alone again, Ben removed his jacket and tossed it on the other bed, then removed his gun and holster and placed them on top of the jacket, followed by his shirt and bulletproof vest before rejoining her.

She looked shell-shocked. “I can’t be pregnant,” she said as she crumbled into his arms again. “I just can’t. We used condoms.”

Except for how upset she was, he would have laughed. “Sweetie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.”

That set his worry off. “Why? You don’t want kids?”

“I can’t do this alone!”

He made her look at him. “You are not alone. You have both of us.”

“You’re here in Miami. Plus I was taking the naproxen. What if…” She buried her head against his chest again. She didn’t cry out loud, but he could tell from the irregular rise and fall of her chest and her frequent sniffling that she was crying.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have words. Instead, he opted to call Grover and tell him she was safe and sound, but that he didn’t have time to talk to go into details.

He also didn’t tell him she was right there with him, because he suspected the last thing she needed was the tongue-lashing she knew Grover would rightfully give her for scaring the crap out of all of them.

It felt like forever before he heard Allan knock on the door. He checked before opening it, and Allan rushed in with a bag. “Okay, I got three different ones so we can tell for sure. They can’t all be wrong.” He emptied the bag onto the bed.

She sat up and wiped at her face. “I…” She sniffled. “Can one of you help me? I can’t…I can’t focus today. I’m sorry.” Ben worried most about her state of mind. She sounded weak, defeated.

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He took her hand and helped her up. “Quit apologizing. You can’t help that you’re in a flare. And yes, of course we’ll both help you.”

He shot Allan a warning look not to laugh while they opened and read the instructions for all three test kits, which were all two-packs.

“Okay,” Ben said. “This is logistically going to be difficult. I say we go with two of them for now. She’s not a racehorse with a gallon of pee in her.”

Sitting on the bathroom counter and looking even weaker in the fluorescent lighting, Libbie managed a wan smile. “I do have to pee.”

“All right,” Allan said, grabbing one. “Assume the position.” He reached for the second test stick. “Ben, you just stand there and take them from me. I don’t want you getting pee on my suit.”

That earned them a soft laugh that relieved Ben. And how it actually worked was Libbie started out holding one of the test strips, and then Allan made the switch with her while Ben took the first one and snapped the cap back on it and started keeping the time.

A few minutes later, all three of them stood there in silence. Ben wanted to jump up and down with joy. Allan, he suspected, was staying quiet until he read Libbie’s mood.

Ben knew there might be health considerations for both Libbie and the baby, but for now he didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to bask in his joy, something he’d all but given up hope of ever feeling.

Libbie stood in front of them, her full attention focused on the two plastic test sticks.

They both read positive.

Ben gently rubbed her shoulders. “Sweetheart, it’s your body and your decision. But Allan and I both want kids. So keep that in mind.

And we promise we will be there for you, no matter how we need to manage it.”

She still didn’t say anything.

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Libbie didn’t know what to say. She stared dumbly at the two test strips, blinking and hoping they’d change to negative.

Then she thought about Mandaline’s words the other day in Many Blessings, how she’d called Libbie “mama” and said she was “glowing.”

Frak.

Yes, she’d always thought about maybe one day having kids, but at thirty-five, and without a husband, she’d pushed the thought to the back of her mind and forgotten about it.

The truth was staring her in the face. “What…what if something’s wrong with it?” She caught herself laying her palm against her belly.

“And what if it’s totally healthy?” Allan asked.

They made her turn to face them.

Ben asked the question. “Do you want an abortion?”

“No!” she answered immediately without even thinking about it.

As she studied their faces, she realized they were both struggling not to smile. “What?”

“That was a pretty quick answer, don’t you think?” Allan queried.

“Maybe the answer of a woman who’s made up her mind and just needs her men to reassure her everything’s going to be okay because they’re going to take charge and make it okay so she doesn’t have to shoulder the burden alone?”

She nodded, hating that the prickle of tears had returned again.

But then their arms were around her and one or both of them helped her back into bed and she was lying, comfortably sandwiched between them, when she fell into the first truly solid sleep she’d had since they left.

“What the hell do we do now, Brain?” Allan whispered so as not to wake her.

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“She can’t stay here. We have to get her back to Brooksville.”

“I’ll go,” Allan said.

“You can’t. You’re needed here.”

“Then you go.”

“I can’t. You need me here.”

Allan loved his brother, but this was one of those times he wanted to smack him. “Then she stays here with us.”

“What part of ‘she can’t stay here’ don’t you understand?”

“Then what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one!”

They both lowered their voices as she stirred a little in her sleep before settling again.

Allan looked at his brother. “This does it. I’m turning in my resignation and going back with her. I can use a secure phone to answer questions, but they don’t need me. I’m done.”

“No, I’ll quit. I can shove what few cases I have over onto someone else.”

“Then we’ll both friggin quit.”

They stared at each other over her sleeping form. Stalemate.

“You can’t quit,” Ben said. “Not yet. They need you.”

“She needs me more.”

“If Bianco skates, we’ll never be able to stop looking over our shoulders and you know it.”

Another stalemate.

Ben finally nodded. “Look, I’ll take a leave of absence. Personal leave. That way I’m still on the force and it avoids a ton of bullshit.

Not to mention I have something crazy like two months’ worth of vacation time built up. When I’m due in for testimony, I’ll come down. But you need to start carrying and wearing a vest all the time.

Promise? Deal?”

Allan stroked her forehead. He had a carry permit and Ben had trained him personally, but he didn’t like guns and hated using them.

He would, however, do whatever he had to for Libbie’s sake. “Deal,”

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he softly said.

Once sure she was deeply asleep. Allan carefully climbed out of bed and motioned Ben to do the same. Going into the bathroom, Allan shut the door and kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry into the bedroom. “I need to call the office and tell them I’m not going to be in.”

“You have to go in. Witness statements this afternoon.”

“Crap.” He ran a hand through his hair. Upon doing so, he turned to the mirror and stared at his reflection. His dark roots were showing.

One of the things he hated most was dying his hair.

“It’s time for me to go back to being me.” He met Ben’s gaze in the mirror. “You don’t need to protect me. I need you to protect and take care of her.” He studied his reflection again. “There’s a place across the street. I’ll go there right now and have them put me back.

And new rules. No more bullshit about her not being able to call when she wants or needs to. If those assholes are truly that tech savvy, we’re screwed regardless. It’s more important for her to be able to talk to us. What if she’d broke down on the Alley on her way over here and couldn’t call for help because the crap-ass phone we gave her couldn’t pick up a signal?”

Ben nodded. Allan had expected at least token resistance to his demands, but Ben seemed broken, hollow. “Agreed,” Ben wearily replied. “And there are some of your suits down in the trunk of your car. I grabbed a few more while I was at the house.”

Allan grabbed the wallet in his pocket and handed it to Ben, who did the same. “So we’re back to being us again,” he said.

A soft snort escaped Ben.

“What?” Allan asked.

“I have a feeling Libbie won’t have any trouble at all telling us apart. Just like we couldn’t fool Mom, no matter how we tried.”

“Yeah.”

He looked at Allan. “We’re in agreement that we marry her, right?”

It’s a Sweet Life

241

“Bigamy is illegal in Florida.”

“Dumb-ass. We can have one of those handfasting ceremonies Mandaline was talking about at New Year’s.”

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you were paying attention that night.”

“I’m a cop. I pay more attention than you think I do. Are we in agreement?”

“Yeah. How do we decide who legally marries her? Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock?” He smiled.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Libbie gets to decide that.” A brief frown crossed his lips. “Well, we need to propose to her and make sure she actually says yes.” He thought about it. “Then again, which of us has the better health plan?”

“Are you serious?”

“Damn serious. The first thing I want to happen once the ink is dry on the marriage certificate is for her to get put on someone’s health insurance so we can make her get taken care of properly.”

“You don’t think making decisions for her like that will piss her off?”

Ben was through arguing and justifying. “She’s going to learn to stop fighting us and let us take care of her so she can focus all of her energies on taking care of herself. And the baby.”

His throat grew tight, a lump swelling in it at that thought. “Our baby.” He stared at Allan. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

One eyebrow arched. “That’s not an easy promise to make.”

“I’m serious.”

“Fine.”

He gathered his thoughts. “Back in college, I used to think it’d be nice if the two of us could find a woman we could settle down with 242 Tymber Dalton

together. And now we have.”

His brother’s expression softened, and he wasn’t prepared when Allan pulled him in for a brotherly bear hug. “You rat bastard, why didn’t you tell me before? I used to think that, too. I didn’t think back then that you’d want to share someone all the time.”

“So we’re agreed? Our wife, our baby, no matter what the paperwork says?”

Allan let him go, a grin on his face. “Yep. As long as she’ll have us two losers.”

He let Allan out of the room and locked the door behind him.

Then he found the TV remote, kicked off his shoes, and curled up next to Libbie to watch TV.

He wanted to giggle, but didn’t want to disturb her.

I’m going to be a dad. We’re going to be dads.

He wouldn’t let thoughts of Bianco spoil this for him.

It’s a Sweet Life

243