Then the girl, two years older than them, had brightened at the sight of him and suggested a threesome.
“I’ve always wanted to do twins,” she practically squealed. “It’s on my bucket list!”
It still boggled his mind how many women were actually down with the whole twins thing. He’d always thought it was a male-only fantasy, but they’d shared a few women in their time.
Not that he’d had anything resembling a love life in the past few years. Entrenching himself in the Bianco family was his life, It’s a Sweet Life 35
completely. He couldn’t risk anyone’s safety by attempting to have a normal relationship on the side. And it allowed him the freedom to enjoy the occasional hooker or exotic dancer with “the boys” in the course of his job without guilt or remorse.
I couldn’t do that to a woman I loved.
He shoved the thought back into its hole and slammed the door tightly against it as he felt his heart clench. Yeah, he was lonely most of the time. It was worth it to put away a hefty chunk of the Bianco family for good and get assholes like them off the streets.
If it meant he had to be a stereotypical bachelor detective, then oh well.
His glance skittered across the restaurant to where a small family had just been seated in a booth. A young man and woman, maybe late twenties, with a beautiful blonde little girl, maybe two years old. And a cute little boy a year or so older than his sister.
He forced his eyes back to the paper. I’m thirty. I wasn’t meant to have a wife or kids. I was meant to be a cop.
“So what do you think?”
Allan’s voice pulled him out of his mental meanderings. For once, he welcomed the distraction from his thoughts. “What?”
“We go into town, take a look around, see if we find anything that way. I need to get out and stretch my legs.”
Ben looked back down at his paper and nodded. “Sure.
Whatever.”
“Grouch.”
Ben didn’t respond. Instead, he forced himself to finish his omelet and not listen to the happy chirruping from the booth across the restaurant.
Neither brother had ever been to Brooksville before. Allan had wanted to stop in Tampa, but Ben overruled him. Allan had learned 36 Tymber Dalton
early in life not to push Ben when his mind was made up. All it would lead to was a fight. As they drove from the hotel into town, Allan admitted Ben made a good choice. The quiet town had the basic amenities such as a couple of large discount stores, but still maintained its rural, Old South charm.
As they followed up on a couple of rental leads from the paper, Allan let Ben take charge. Ben had always taken charge, something else Allan felt a little guilty about. He envied his brother the ability to wade into a situation and settle it. It was what made Ben a good cop, and an even better detective. People listened to Ben. He had a way about him that commanded respect and attention without being douchey.
Allan never had that. It was why he decided on law instead of becoming a cop. He knew he didn’t have the stomach for the on-the-edge work like Ben did.
Allan thrived on the details, the fine print, delving into the law and careful researching and pulling together cases to sway a judge and jury his way. He didn’t mind standing up in court and giving opening or closing statements, or questioning witnesses. There were rules and procedures and…safety. In a courtroom, he took charge and kicked butt.
Kicking in a door, however, would probably get him killed.
Allan studied Ben as he drove. With Ben’s deep undercover work, they hadn’t spent a lot of time together for the past three years, although they had talked on the phone at least once a week. As far as Allan knew, Ben hadn’t even taken a full vacation in the past several years. He’d been known to the mobsters as Frankie Ruggiero and played the part well.
Sometimes, Allan barely recognized his brother’s voice over the phone. Ben had a habit of replicating the New Jersey accent of the criminals he “worked” for. Two different times, Ben had been ordered to “whack” guys suspected of infidelity to the mob family. Ben had successfully flipped them, funneling them into the witness protection It’s a Sweet Life 37
program after faking their deaths.
Working on the other end of the process, Allan knew he was insulated from the dirty, day-to-day struggle the police went through to bring the criminals to his door.
More guilt.
They spent the morning looking at apartments and houses for rent until they ended up in downtown Brooksville, near the town square.
“Where to now?” Allan asked.
“You hungry?”
Allan tried to ignore the gooseflesh that rippled up his back at the way his brother had said it. As if he’d grown up in New Jersey instead of Miami. “I could eat, yeah.”
“I saw a little coffeeshop over there, on the other side of the courthouse.” They found a parking space and walked up to the shop.
The sign read Many Blessings in curly, bright pink letters. From the number of patrons inside, it looked like a popular place.
Ben walked in first. Allan didn’t miss the way his brother quickly scanned the area with a hard, narrowed gaze that swept over the patrons before he stepped forward and let Allan enter behind him.
Allan deeply inhaled the delicious aromas of coffee and tea, along with various scents that reminded him of incense.
Behind the counter, a short, slim woman with brown eyes and long, dark brown hair greeted them with a cheerful smile. “Welcome.
What can I get for you gentlemen today?”
As Allan looked around, he realized the store was more than a coffeeshop. Shelves of books, Tarot card decks, crystals, candles, statues, and other New Age items lined the walls. Several patrons at various tables sat hunched over layouts of Tarot cards while others were immersed in books or on their laptops.
Ben stepped up to the counter. “Large coffee. Black. Whatever the daily special is. And a cheese danish.” He looked at Allan. “You?”
Allan had to focus on Ben’s words. In the background, soft guitar music played through speakers. He’d felt his stress of the past couple 38 Tymber Dalton
of days melt from his shoulders. I could spend hours in here. “Same, please.” He finally looked at the woman helping them and noticed her studying them.
“You guys are new in town, aren’t you?”
Allan sensed Ben tense next to him, so he took over. “Yeah.
Looking to move here. Just got into town and trying to find an apartment.”
The woman’s face brightened even more as she laughed.
“Goddess bless me, that spell worked even faster than I thought it would.” She darted from behind the counter over to a bulletin board, where she unpinned a pink index card from it and brought it back to them. Handing it to Allan, she said, “Go see Libbie Addams. She owns the bakery. I think she closed early today, but if you go around back, I know she’s there. Just knock on the door.” She pointed out the window and across the square to a bakery where It’s a Sweet Life was painted on one window in bright pink and turquoise letters. “I’ll get your orders.”
Allan knew from the look on Ben’s face that he was forcing back a dubious frown. He pulled the card from Allan’s hand and studied it.
“Hmph.”
“Is that a good hmph?” Allan quietly asked.
Ben glared at him. “We’ll check it out.” When the clerk brought them their order and rang them up, Ben held up the card. “What do you know about this woman?”