It's a Sweet Life

Chapter Twenty-Three

Florio jumped when the man walked up to his car and tapped on the window a little after one that morning. He rolled it down. “What?”

“Head boss sent this.” He handed Florio an envelope and walked away.

Florio ripped it open. Inside, an orange sticky note, hand-printed in black ink.

WHATEVER IT TAKES. BRING PROOF. BOTH.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t like the idea of killing. He’d never had to do it before, either. Until last month, he’d been running numbers and doing courier work down in Hialeah, reporting to Enrique’s brother.

He always knew who was really in charge of the operation, but he’d never met Bianco personally until the other day.

Frankly, he’d hoped he never would.

He knew damn well what kind of “proof” he was being ordered to get. The thought of killing someone and taking their head wasn’t on his top-ten list of favorite things.

He also knew it meant his head if he didn’t do it.

He’d ordered in a couple of reinforcements and stationed them in cars on various levels in the parking garage. They would stay on Donohue until he led them to the cop.

He was hoping they’d both appear in the morning, but he didn’t get his hopes up.

In the morning, he sent a guy into the hotel’s restaurant, where he could sit with a clear view of the elevators and front desk. His other guys had the garage covered. Wherever one or both of them came out, It’s a Sweet Life 255

he’d know about it.

At 8:11, his lobby guy spoke into his radio. “Donohue and a woman, coming out of the elevators in the lobby.”

Florio felt a second wave of energy flow through him. “Stay on him.”

Then one of his guys, watching the car in the garage, spoke up.

“Then who da fuck’s getting in Donohue’s car?”

Florio blinked, trying to make sense of it in his sleep-deprived state. “Fuck! They’re both here. Don’t lose either of them!”

Two of his guys followed the parking garage Donohue. He got in his car and headed out, Florio’s guys on his tail.

“What about the other one? Which one is which? They fucking look alike.”

He was betting the one who’d just left was the attorney. “Stay on the guy in the lobby.”

“Got it.”

Ten minutes later, the other Donohue and the woman left the lobby, luggage in hand, and headed to the parking garage, too. They got into an older Toyota Corolla with a Hernando County tag on the back, Donohue driving, and headed out of the garage.

“Stay on him,” Florio said. He grabbed a throwaway cell and dialed a number he’d memorized.

A man answered. “Yeah?”

He read off the plate number and hung up. Five minutes later, the same man called back with a name—LacieBelle Addams. More importantly, he now had an address in Brooksville.

Florio jotted the info down and hung up as he pulled out of the parking lot and followed his men.

“Stay with them,” he told everyone. “You fucking lose them, and I’ll kill you myself.”

256 Tymber

Dalton

Allan headed toward his office. He didn’t bother trying to be evasive. Ben’s plan hinged upon anyone following Allan to take off after him, allowing Ben to get Libbie safely out of the hotel and on the road to Brooksville without detection.

As he drove, he caught sight of a couple of cars who kept an unusually consistent distance between him and them.

“That’s it, assholes. Follow me,” he muttered at his rearview mirror.

Libbie kept glancing behind them but had to admit she had no clue what she was looking for. “I can’t tell if anyone’s behind us or not.”

Ben looked grim. “Two, at least. Possibly a third.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” He squeezed her knee before returning his hand to the wheel. “Quit apologizing.” He handed her his cell phone. “Change of plans. Call Allan for me.” He rattled off the number for her and she dialed it and hit send before returning the phone to him.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he talked. “They’re on us…

Right. Plan B.” He hung up and handed her the phone.

“What’s plan B?”

He smiled, but it looked cold. “You have a jacket or something in your bag?”

“Yeah?”

“Unbuckle your seat belt and get it. And while you’re back there, open my duffel bag. In the top, there’s a bulletproof vest.”

“How are you going to put it on if you’re driving?”

He looked at her. “I’m not. You are. And put your jacket on over it.”

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Allan swore as he changed directions and jumped back on the Turnpike. He knew what plan B meant, and he didn’t like it in the least. This time, he paid close attention to who was following him and easily lost both cars. As he drove, he pulled up Ben’s friend’s number in West Palm. By the time he got him updated and got off the phone with him, he wondered if Ben’s plan would even work.

He made it to the storage unit complex thirty minutes later. Jake was already waiting for him in the parking lot. When Allan got out, he saw Jake Suarez was also wearing a vest. “Everything ready?”

“Yeah. I unlocked the unit already. I’ve got SO scrambled and on their way now. They’re going to coordinate with the Feds.” The grizzled retired cop nodded. “Those assholes get here, they’re fucking trapped inside the gate.”

They turned as three unmarked units and a SWAT wagon rolled into the parking lot. Jake conferred with the commander of the group, who quickly went inside the storage complex office to commandeer the premises and position his men.

Allan pulled his car into the complex and drove around to Ben’s unit, where he parked in front of it at an angle. The plan was for Ben to pull up behind him, and Libbie could jump out of the car and duck into the unit, shielded by vehicles from both directions. He’d have the door open a couple of feet and would pull it down as soon as she was safely inside.

Jake rode with him, a shotgun lying across his lap.

“You sure you want to be in on this?” Allan asked.

The old Cubano grinned. “Fucking Bianco’s goons killed one of my friends in Narcotics a few years ago. Bastard skated on the charge.

We catch these fuckers, some or all of them will flip. They’re not his A-team, that’s for fucking sure. They’ll have enough against Bianco to revoke his bail and sit his ass in jail for the rest of his miserable goddamned life.”

258 Tymber

Dalton

“What’s going on?” Ben hated the fear in Libbie’s voice, but he knew this was the only way they would ever be free of Bianco’s men.

“Detour. We need to go meet Allan.”

“Then why the vest?”

“Because I don’t know what might happen.”

“Can’t we call the police or something and have them stop these guys?”

He laughed. “Well, I am the police, sweetheart. And believe me, they’ve been called.”

As long as Jake and Allan didn’t screw things up, they should have some of Bianco’s men trapped in the storage complex, which only had one entrance. The SWAT team should have men positioned at the perimeter and on rooftops inside the complex to provide backup.

All he had to do was get Libbie inside the storage unit, pull the door down, and get her deep inside behind boxes until the all-clear was sounded.

That was the one variable he hadn’t counted on when he had created the plan weeks ago when they returned to Miami. They couldn’t very well bring in every single one of Bianco’s men piecemeal with no cause. It wasn’t against the law to safely drive a vehicle on the streets of Miami.

But more than one of them following him into a private facility would show cause. Cause that the Feds could leverage against the assholes to make them flip.

When it was just him and Allan, he felt confident the plan was a slam dunk.

All he had to do now was make sure Libbie stayed safe.

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Libbie fought the nausea rising in her gut as Ben calmly told her what was going to happen. She suspected he was leaving out details out of fear she’d be scared, but she didn’t want to get sick and ruin the plan.

She pulled the jacket on over the bulletproof vest and buckled her seat belt. “This sounds dangerous.”

“It’s okay, baby. We never thought we’d get a chance like this.

It’ll be fine. There will be SWAT all over the place.”

Florio beat on his steering wheel when the ones following the first Donohue lost him. “You fucktards! How the fuck did you lose him?”

He braked hard and hit the horn when a car cut him off, then swerved around the car to pick up the Toyota again. “Fucking get your asses up here, now.” He told them where they were. “Catch up with us.”

Five of them, including himself, were now following the Toyota.

When the Donohue driving slowed down to the speed limit upon hitting the Turnpike and heading north, Florio wasn’t sure if it was sleep deprivation or joy that something had finally gone right that made him smile.

“He thinks he’s clear. Stay close and switch positions often. Don’t lose him.”

One more of his guys had caught up with them before they turned off at West Palm and headed west.

“We’re getting close, I think,” Florio said. “Stay sharp.”

Ben made sure not to lose his pursuers as he made the turn into the storage unit complex. Only once he saw two of the cars pull in behind him did he floor it, whipping the wheel to the left as he braked 260 Tymber Dalton

hard and took the corner at the end of the main aisle. He jammed the accelerator to the floor, braking at the last possible second and sliding in behind Allan’s car with a squeal of tires and a jolt as the Toyota’s front bumper made contact with the rear of Allan’s car.

The airbags deployed, startling Ben. “Fuck! Libbie, get out, now!”

He clawed at the airbag deflating in front of him and unbuckled his seat belt.

Behind them, he heard tires screaming on the concrete and the sound of one of them making impact with a building somewhere.

She struggled with her belt when Allan yanked her door open and grabbed her arm. Ben reached over and got her seat belt unbuckled.

Allan swore as Ben overshot and hit his back bumper. Despite Jake warning him not to, he ducked through the door and yanked the passenger side door open. Libbie was still belted in, but Ben got her unbuckled as he heard the sound of approaching vehicles.

As he pulled her from the car, he handed her over to Jake, who bodily dragged her under the door and into the unit when she tried to resist.

“Go!” Allan screamed at her. He started to see if Ben needed help when the driver’s door opened. He turned back to the overhead door to duck under, into safety, when he realized the impact had pushed the front bumper of his car into the other side of the door.

No way it would go down.

Four cars had made their way into the aisle and were racing toward them. One slid to a stop sideways, catching the rear of Libbie’s car with the passenger door. The driver pointed his gun at Allan and fired.

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Libbie screamed, thrashing, still disoriented from the impact as the man dragged her under the door and into the unit.

“Lady, stop it! I’m a friend of Ben’s!”

She let him lead her through a narrow passageway of boxes in the unit when she turned at the sound of a crash, followed immediately by the sound of a shot.

She pulled her hand free, screaming for her men and racing back to the doorway even as the man tried to drag her away from the door.

Ben had made it around the driver’s door when the car swung around and into the back of Libbie’s.

We’re going to owe her a new car. The thought flitted through his brain in the space of time it took him to draw his weapon and come up, ready to fire. When he saw the driver point his weapon at Allan, he fired first, taking the guy’s head off and leaving a spray of blood and brain matter on the inside of the driver’s window.

He met Allan’s gaze and started to yell at him to take cover, when another car veered past, taking out the driver’s door and throwing him ten feet through the air, where he landed on his back by Allan’s front tire.

His gun flew from his hand as the wind was knocked out of him.

“Yeah!” Florio screamed as he saw the man go flying. He slammed the car into park and jumped out, ready to finish the fucker off when the guy’s twin launched himself at him over the hood of the wrecked Toyota, knocking him to the ground.

262 Tymber

Dalton

Allan lost his gun when he tackled the man. He nearly had him when the fucker got a lucky punch in and broke free, aiming his gun at Ben. He’d started to kick at him when he heard Libbie scream from behind him.

“No!”

Instinctively, as the gunman turned toward Libbie, Allan dove for her, wrapping his arms around her and shielding her body with his.

He didn’t know if the impact he felt in the middle of his spine was from them hitting the pavement, or from the shot that he heard ring out. Either way it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his ribs in an attempt to pound the air from his lungs.

Libbie felt the air crushed from her as she hit the ground underneath Allan. She was vaguely aware of people running up, cops in SWAT gear. One of them pulled her out from under Allan, but the world moved in slow motion. She turned back toward Allan as they forcibly dragged her away. She saw he wasn’t moving.

And that the back of his shirt looked like it had been blown open.

She fought, screaming, as she lost sight of him as two men bent over him. Ben was slowly sitting up with the assistance of someone else and she sobbed in relief at that, but still clawed at the two men now dragging her away to get free.

She had to get back to Allan.

Her ears still rang from the sounds of the blasts and she could barely hear what anyone was saying.

“…shot…”

“…officer down…”

“…ambulance…”

That was when her stomach lost the battle she’d fought against morning sickness all morning. Everything she’d eaten in their room a little after dawn came roaring back up as her world went black.

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