213
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?”
214 Tymber
Dalton
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.”
Libbie decided to leave on Sunday, after stewing about it for more than a day following her talk with Mandaline.
“You sure you want to do this, sugar?” Lines of concern etched Grover’s face.
“Yeah. I miss them so much.” She wasn’t looking forward to the drive with the deep ache in her body, not to mention the occasional queasiness she’d been having, but she knew a night in her men’s arms would make it more than worth it. “They’re all I can think about. I’ll come back Tuesday night. You can put up a sign on the door if you want instead of opening.”
He waved that suggestion away. “We can run the place, don’t worry. I’ll just make the usuals, nothing fancy. And I’ll take care of the brat cat for you.” His brow furrowed. “They said it’d be dangerous to be with them until after the trial ended.”
“I know. But I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Miami is a really big place. I can’t imagine there being any trouble.”
He let out a heavy sigh and straightened, taking a step away from the car door. “Yes, you are a big girl. But it don’t mean I won’t worry about you every minute you’re gone. You make sure you call me, okay?”
She nodded. “I will.”
She pulled out and made her way to head east on SR 50 to the It’s a Sweet Life 215
interstate. She’d take I-75 all the way down to Alligator Alley and across to Miami. With gas and bathroom stops, she figured she could make it in about five hours.
I’m done waiting. Sitting on her hands praying their weekly call would come sucked.
Libbie glanced at the phone they’d given her, which sat on the passenger seat. Yes, tonight was their call night. She planned to be in Miami by the time she received it, to meet them somewhere, even if only for a few hours. She missed them, wanted them. Wanted to be in their arms.
Wanted to have a good, long cry, with more than her pillow and Galileo to comfort her.
When she reached the eastern end of Alligator Alley just after ten that night, she heard the disposable phone beep that a voice mail awaited her. Which was odd, because she’d never heard it ring.
They should have called by now.
Frowning, she reached for it while not taking her eyes off the road. She held it up and glanced at the screen.
No missed calls, but the voice mail icon flashed. So did the roaming icon.
Swearing, she put it on speaker mode and hit the speed dial button for voice mail.
“Hey, babe, it’s Allan. We’re just checking in for our weekly call.”
“I’m here, too,” Ben chimed in.
“We miss you. We’ll try calling back in a little while. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Ben added.
She hit save and dropped the phone back onto the passenger seat.
From the time stamp on the voice mail, it had arrived while she was in the middle of the Alley.
216 Tymber
Dalton
Must not have had cell reception.
When she stopped for gas twenty minutes later, taking a moment to run inside to use the bathroom and grab a snack, she swore again upon finding she had another voice mail waiting on her phone when she returned to the car.
And still no missed call alerts. The flashing of the roaming icon seemed to mock her.
“Shit!”
As always, she had no phone number where she could call them back. The number showed up as unavailable on her screen.
For the hell of it, she tried the cells Ben and Allan had used while in Brooksville and left voice mail messages for both of them.
While she appreciated their concern, the situation wore on her and had taxed what little remained of her patience. “Bianco be damned, I’m sick of not being with my guys,” she muttered under her breath.
Another beep caught her attention. Her regular cell phone, which she’d forgotten to put on the charger, was almost dead. The low battery warning appeared on the screen. Too tired to hunt down the car charger for it in her overnight bag, she turned it off and dropped it in her purse.
Not like they’d call me on that one anyway.
Armed with the maps she’d printed out before leaving home, she headed toward Miami.
Libbie sat in her car and stared at the deserted house, her tears of disappointment rolling down her cheeks, hot and burning. It was hard to tell if they weren’t really staying there, because the lawn was well kept and there weren’t any old papers in the drive or unclaimed mail in the mailbox out front.
By 1:00 a.m. she knew they weren’t staying there. Worse, the deep ache in her body from the drive had now turned into a screaming It’s a Sweet Life 217
agony she knew she’d pay for the next morning.
Well, later this morning.
Defeated, she drove back the way she came until she found a hotel in what looked like a reasonably safe neighborhood. Fortunately, they had a room available. She went ahead and booked it for two nights, hoping she would need it that long.
Even luckier, she’d only packed one bag, easily toted up to her room on the third floor. Locking herself in, she immediately headed for the tub. Only once she’d sunk into the hot water did she let her tears flow again.