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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231
“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.