Tymber Dalton - It’s a Sweet Life

“Now, we fucking wait, that’s what. Boss wants them both, but especially the cop.”

252 Tymber

Dalton

Libbie still couldn’t believe how much life had changed for her in the past few hours. She honestly had never considered the possibility that her nausea was from being pregnant. Fibro was the gold standard of mystery symptoms, and sometimes they even changed from week to week. But while waiting for Allan to return, they’d gone ahead and used the third test kit.

Positive.

Ben had room service brought up for lunch for them, and was getting ready to order it again for dinner when they heard a knock on the door. Ben silently walked up to the door and looked through the viewfinder before opening it.

Allan rushed in, dumping the two suitcases on the floor before grabbing Libbie and pulling her into his arms.

“There’s my girl.”

“You okay?”

He grinned. “I’m going to be a dad. I’m better than okay.” He looked at Ben. “I had to struggle to keep the shit-eating grin off my face all day.”

“No one followed you?”

“No way. And I got this.” He pulled a black velvet case out of his jacket and showed it to Ben. “Mom’s.”

Ben frowned. “Is that from your house? You went by your house?”

Allan’s smile faltered. “Yeah. What’s the big deal? You went by my house this morning.”

“Dude.” He shook his head. “That was risky. Twice in one day we go there, that’s fucking risky!”

“No one followed me. Now, can we do this right, or are you going to bust my balls all night?”

“What’s going on?” Libbie finally asked, confused by their behavior.

Ben joined Allan. Allan opened the case and withdrew a ring. Ben held her left hand steady while Allan slipped it on her finger. “This It’s a Sweet Life 253

was our mom’s engagement ring,” Allan said. “If it creeps you out, then we’ll get you something else, but—”

“I love it.” It was a simple setting holding a small stone, but to her it could just as easily have been the Hope Diamond.

Ben kissed her hand. “You still want to marry us?”

She nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”

They got their dinner ordered, and it was all Libbie could do not to rip Allan’s clothes off him during the wait. Once the food arrived and they ate, Libbie didn’t waste any time.

And Allan, unlike Ben, didn’t need a reminder that condoms were unnecessary.

For the first night in months, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

254 Tymber

Dalton

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.”

It’s a Sweet Life

257

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.”