It's A Sweet Life Part 5

As she sat on the toilet, she stared at the tub. While it called to her, she was afraid if she did get herself into it, she might not be able to get back out again as weak as she felt.

That would be embarra.s.sing as h.e.l.l.

She looked at the smaller shower in the corner. That would have to do. But later.

Coffee.

She eventually shuffled herself into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Galileo strolled in after her. "It's not even eight, yet," she told him. "You'll have to wait until later to give me trouble."

He head-b.u.t.ted her s.h.i.+n, rubbing his head against her leg and loudly purring.

After an hour, a pain pill, a cup of coffee, and with her heating pad warmed up, Libbie's strength had returned and she felt slightly more human. She curled up on the couch with a soft blanket wrapped around her. Galileo jumped up with her and made himself a nest down by her feet.

She turned the TV on more for noise than anything and powered up her Kindle.

Allan found Ben sitting at the table, checking his e-mail, when he finally arose a little before nine Sunday morning. "Morning." He walked over to the counter where Ben had already brewed a pot of coffee.

"Morning."

"So what's our plan for today, Brain?"

Ben's glare slid across the room at him. "Funny."

"Well, we're here. Not sure what we're supposed to do now but wait. And why do you get to check your e-mail, but I'm not allowed to?"

"You are allowed to, as long as you do it from this computer. You just can't use Facebook or Twitter or Pinterest or any of those places you like to troll through. I have it logged into an IP anonymiser. We don't know who we can trust. We don't need someone getting a hold of the full headers of one of your e-mails and tracking us here." Before Ben had ended up in deep undercover for organized crime, he'd pulled a stint with the computer crime unit.

Allan walked over to the table and sat across from Ben. "I seriously doubt anyone in my office is on the take. Especially not on my team. I trust them."

"You willing to stake your life on it? Literally? I know I'm not."

Allan sipped his coffee. "You sound like one of the IA guys you always say you're less than fond of."

Ben shot him a dirty look but didn't respond.

"You won't even let me check Facebook from a phone. How the h.e.l.l can someone track me from that when I have my profile set to friends-only?"

Ben didn't look up. "Why don't you stand outside of Bianco's office and hold a shoot me' sign?"

"Can I at least wander around town?"

"Sure. Just remember to pay in cash if you buy anything."

Allan rolled his eyes and headed out the door. He hesitated as he stared at Libbie's apartment door. He faintly heard what sounded like a TV inside.

I could check on her. She'd looked like she was in a lot of pain the evening before. Despite having just met her, he couldn't shut down his desire to help her. He stepped over to her door, pausing as he raised his hand to knock.

What if she doesn't want to be bothered right now?

He lowered his hand and headed toward the back stairs. Instead of taking the truck, he opted to walk around town. Not many businesses surrounding the town square were open yet, or would open at all on a Sunday.

Buzzing in his brain, his aggravation at Ben warred with feelings of guilt. If it wasn't for protecting him, Ben easily could have stayed in Miami in a loose form of protective custody with the most basic of disguises. Instead, he'd opted to take charge as he always had and declared they'd leave town for a while.

Then again, I guess I should be glad I'm not stuck in a dumpy hotel somewhere in Hialeah and unable to leave.

He did want to spend a little time on this unwanted and unexpected vacation brus.h.i.+ng up on his art skills. He hadn't picked up a sketch pad in what felt like years.

Beautiful, old live oaks were scattered around the square and between the buildings surrounding it. Old homes, still used as residences as well as having been converted to office and shop s.p.a.ce, were mixed with commercial buildings ranging from pre-1930s to the present.

How long, exactly, since he'd been able to casually stroll along a city sidewalk and enjoy the sound of birdsong without the overbearing blare of traffic and urban noises?

That would be forever.

He parked himself on a bench and studied the courthouse. He enjoyed his job, no question there. He thrived on the energy and intensity.

Then again, he missed companions.h.i.+p. He missed having real-life friends he could socialize with, like he had in college, instead of a series of hangers-on he had to carefully keep at arm's length. Especially when he didn't know their true motives after having handled several high-profile drug and murder cases over the past couple of years.

Even his boss had approached him about grooming him to run for his job when he retired in a few years.

It felt surreal.

Ben enjoyed teasing him about going to nightclubs, not having any serious relations.h.i.+ps, and being a party boy. But what Ben didn't know-what no one else knew-was that it was all for show. A way to fill the empty time.

A way to keep from getting close to anyone, just to lose them.

A way to keep the loneliness at bay in a town where sharks didn't just swim in the ocean. Plenty of them walked on two feet.

He wistfully studied the dark window of a family law office nestled in the first floor of one of the old, sprawling Florida mansions. Gingerbread trim painted pale yellow highlighted the neat light blue clapboard sides of the two-story house. A wraparound porch, complete with a swing, completed the charming look.

How nice would it be to close the office at five o'clock on a Friday and be able to actually relax for the weekend? No pressure to go out with fellow office workers or high-profile political acquaintances, no career-ending cases to stress over.

Maybe even have a life. A wife.

h.e.l.l, when was the last time they'd celebrated Thanksgiving or Christmas with their cousins, or even together as brothers? Allan was sick of going to Thanksgiving dinners at other people's houses.

Or worse, alone to a restaurant.

Then again, maybe his tough-as-nails, kick-a.s.s brother didn't feel like that. Maybe curmudgeonly Ben was perfectly happy with his life and Allan should suck it up and deal.

He looked up at the sound of church bells somewhere north of the square. How long since he'd heard that sound?

He returned to the apartment later that afternoon and slumped on the couch to channel surf. Ben wasn't in the living room, and he didn't know if the closed bedroom door meant he was in there or not. If he was, napping or...otherwise busy, he didn't want to bother him.

Barely paying attention to the programs, he started flipping through channels, one by one, until he stumbled upon a James Bond marathon on BBC America and settled in to watch it.

A little before noon, Libbie forced herself to put down her Kindle and headed for the bathroom. She felt strong enough now to enjoy soaking in the tub without worrying about not being able to get back out again. Earlier, she'd heard one or both of the men leave their apartment and head out, but they apparently hadn't taken their truck, since she hadn't heard it start.

She knew it was stupid, but something about the two men put her mind at ease. Comforted her. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but a feeling of safety seemed to surround them. For all she knew, they could be a pair of serial killers, but the fact that even overprotective Grover had given them a nod of approval had to be a good sign. Grover was especially protective of her once her parents had died, and had always been an impeccable judge of people.

There definitely wasn't anything wrong with making the cousins stars of her personal fantasies.

That's what I could use, an endorphin boost.

She changed direction, instead heading to the bedroom where she dug a duffel bag out of her closet. Inside, she'd stashed her s.e.x toys before the Sat.u.r.day move so they wouldn't be accidentally discovered.

The last thing she'd needed was teasing from any of Grover's kids, who treated her like a sister. No one else was allowed to mess with a Johnson, adopted or otherwise, but they wouldn't hesitate to tease each other.

She put most of the items, including a.s.sorted d.i.l.d.os, vibrators, and lube, into the drawer except for her backup plan.

The Hitachi Magic Wand.

She didn't use it all the time, because she frequently found it to be too intense, even on the low setting. Today, she felt she needed it, knowing her pain levels might interfere with her ability to o.r.g.a.s.m.

She stripped and plugged the vibrator in before climbing in under the covers to keep warm. Closing her eyes, she let thoughts of Charles and Ken float through her mind. She pictured their firm, trim bodies, their handsome faces.

Their killer blue eyes, the same light blue of a Florida sky during a high pressure system, a little on the grey side but clear and piercing.

She found the Hitachi and drew it close, pressing it between her legs. She normally kept her mound trimmed close because she liked it better that way. As she thought about what it would feel like to have both men in bed with her, she clicked the vibrator's switch to low.

Her entire body tingled as the vibrator pushed pleasure through her c.l.i.t, spreading into a fire throughout her whole body. What would it feel like to be sandwiched between those two men? Just like in the menage books she read?

She wiggled her hips a little, getting more traction against the vibrator's head nestled deeper between her l.a.b.i.a as her other hand drifted up to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She tugged at one nipple, then the other, back and forth, wis.h.i.+ng it was two sets of hands not connected to her doing the work for her.

Pulling herself even more deeply into her fantasy, she envisioned riding Ken's c.o.c.k, having it deep inside her p.u.s.s.y while Charles knelt behind her and played with her a.s.s.

Her c.u.n.t walls clenched at that thought. Her juices ran as the fantasy played out in her mind.

He would go slow and gentle, working a finger or two into my a.s.s before the head of his c.o.c.k pressed against me. She flipped the Hitachi's switch to high and had to turn her face sideways into the pillow to m.u.f.fle the cry she let out as she came. Breathless and trembling, she switched the vibrator off and took a deep breath as a smile played across her face.

Oooh, yeah. That's better.

It wasn't until she made herself move to head for the bathroom that reality poked its head around the corner when she glanced back at her bed. A king-sized bed because she liked lots of room.

Her heart ached. A king-sized bed to be lonely in.

Forcing that thought out of her mind, she headed to the bathroom to go soak in the tub.

Chapter Seven.

Monday morning, Libbie felt marginally better than she had the day before. Still, her body groaned in protest as she slowly rolled onto her side and pushed up into a sitting position. She hadn't set eyes on her tenants since Sat.u.r.day, although a few times she'd heard them come and go via the outside stairs.

Not even the sound of their TV filtered through her walls.

In a way, it was a relief.

She made her way out to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, glancing over to where her purse sat on the counter. The money they'd given her was tucked inside the zippered interior side pocket where she kept her tampons.

I need to run to the bank and deposit that. She didn't like having that much cash on hand. She'd put the security deposit part of it in her savings account where it would stay, untouched. The rest of it would go straight into her business account so she could pay bills, with some held back as cash to pay Jenny.

As she tried to stretch, her muscles protested. A trip to the bank could wait until after she'd had a pain pill, a hot bath, and rubbed some of Mandaline's miracle cures all over her.

An hour later, she felt strong enough to make the trip. That would be about all she'd accomplish, but she was used to that. The sudden fatigue could hit her and make her feel like someone had flipped a switch on her energy. Even in the middle of a shopping trip, she'd find herself looking for a place to sit down and rest for a couple of minutes with barely enough strength to go on, much less the energy to schlep her groceries upstairs when she made it home.

She'd learned to save large grocery trips for days when Jenny was there. The girl was happy to help out and traipse up and down the stairs for her.

Libbie had found sometimes she only had enough strength to get back up the stairs and crawl into bed, much less repeated trips.

Today, however, she slowly made her way down the stairs, the ones that ended in the hallway leading to the outside at the back of the bakery. They put her closer to her car because the door opened onto the carport. She rested for a moment after getting in, then carefully backed out. Ken and Charles had backed their pickup truck in. She briefly wondered whether or not Nebraska was a single-plate state like Florida when she saw no license plate attached to the front b.u.mper, but by the time she reached the street the thought had already been chased out of her head by her need to concentrate on her driving.

By eleven, she was back in her apartment and curled up on the couch with her Kindle and Galileo. She'd had all sorts of plans for today, such as working on paperwork and was.h.i.+ng her car, but knew if she wanted to be able to work in the morning she had to take it easy.

A little before ten Monday morning, Allan decided to leave their apartment again to get some air and look around some more. Going downstairs, he noticed Libbie's car was gone. He took another turn around the center of Brooksville again on foot. Stores closed the day before had opened, including Many Blessings.

"What the h.e.l.l, I could use a coffee." He stepped inside, surprised to find it nearly deserted except for a woman dusting a bookshelf, and another woman standing behind the counter.

As he stepped up to the counter, he recognized the woman who'd given them the information about Libbie's apartment.

She also apparently recognized him. She greeted him with a beaming grin. "Ah, I see you're still around."

He nodded. "Yes, thank you. The apartment you told us about was perfect."

She waggled her eyebrows at him. "I did mention Libbie was single, didn't I?"

He felt the blush reach his cheeks. Dammit, what the h.e.l.l's wrong with me? He was used to standing up in court without breaking a sweat. Why was he suddenly getting all bashful when he thought about their cute landlord? "Um, yes, you did. I'm sure we also mentioned we're gay."

She let out a snort. "Sure you are, sweetie. What can I get you this morning?"

He wanted to argue the point then realized how absolutely stupid that was. Somehow, this woman had seen through their charade.

The fact that it was a New Age shop didn't escape him.

Maybe she's a witch. He could barely think it and manage to hold back his laughter at the same time. "Just a large coffee, please. House whatever. Black."

She nodded and turned to get it, but he didn't miss the tickled smile on her face. When she returned with his coffee and he reached for it, she grabbed his hand with her free one and stared into his eyes.