In MIB Custody [The Service Club 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

“Apparently, you’re one hell of an actress,” she told herself, turning again and returning to her office.

Danica set her coffee cup on the desk, closed her eyes as she sat down in her chair, and rubbed her temples with the thumb and middle finger of both hands. Her head ached as badly as her heart. Yet, the worst part came in knowing she was starting to second-guess herself.

Could she have been wrong about their intentions?

No, Lowell had all but flat-out told her he planned to leave the FBI and stay in Horn Hill to be with her. She didn’t doubt Zane would have done it, too.

Could she have handled them differently, maybe talked to them and convinced them to listen to reason?

Not likely. Zane might have listened to a point, but Lowell certainly wouldn’t have.

They both listened when you told them to be gone by the time you got out of the shower.

Yeah, and wasn’t that a bang-up time for them to decide to follow an order she decided to give.

“They wouldn’t be happy here. Even with me, they would be giving up so much, and one day they would hate me for it.”

Why was it that, even though she had said those very words to herself a zillion times in the last two days, she was starting to believe them less and less?

Because you want them back.

Of course she did. She loved them. Confusion curled inside her, winding around her heart, and clogging her mind. Gods, she loved both of them to the depths of her very soul! She had managed to live without Lowell once, but only because she had forced herself to hold onto an anger at him he didn’t deserve. She hadn’t even begun to learn to live without Zane. They may have only had one night together in the flesh, but they had spent countless nights talking on the phone and through Facebook messages, conversations that had formed a bond between them before the deeper emotions had started to build.

Her phone rang, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She huffed out a breath and snatched it off the desktop. Her pulse pounding in her ears, she glanced at the screen. Disappoint collided with relief when she saw it wasn’t Zane or Lowell.

“Hey, Ben. What’s up?” she asked by way of greeting.

“I just had an interesting conversation with the sheriff.” Ben Hoffman got right to the point of his call. “Didn’t Lowell and his buddy go back to Tampa a couple of days ago, or have they been hiding out at your place?”

“They’re gone.”
And, believe me, I’m feeling every lonely, agonizing second of it.

“But not for long, right?”

We’ll be back.

Lowell’s statement echoed in Danica’s memory so plainly she actually turned in her chair to see if he were standing behind her.

“No, Ben, they aren’t coming back.”

“Hmm, that’s funny, because according to the sheriff, we’re about have to former FBI agents filling the open slots we have in the department.”

* * * *

“Chelsea Landon’s testimony is going to be crucial to putting Diego Lorena away.” Jonathan Marcum propped his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers as he met first Zane’s gaze and then Lowell’s. “Do either of you foresee that to be a problem?”

“Lowell can answer that better than I can, sir,” Zane said, tossing the conversational ball in Lowell’s court.

Lowell bent one leg, resting his ankle on the opposite knee, and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “No, sir,” he answered after a moment. “I don’t believe that’ll be a problem. She’s aware she’ll likely have to testify against Lorena. I made that clear when Zane and I took her statement in Horn Hill.”

“Did you offer to bring her into WITSEC?”

“No, sir. I didn’t.” Putting Chelsea Landon in the Federal Witness Protection Program where she would be taken away from everything she knew and everything she loved, including her men, would never fly in a million years. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, sir.”

Marcum picked up a pen and began sliding it through his fingers as he nodded. “I don’t believe it will be either. By all indications, it appears our team in Miami has thoroughly neutralized Lorena’s operation. The DA is confident with her testimony, as well as the others he has gathered and the evidence stacked up against Lorena, that neither he or any of his men will be posing a threat to Ms. Landon. Still, we should make her aware the option is open if she feels the need for it.”

“Frankly, sir, unless WITSEC is willin’ to take her men into the program with her, she’d never go for it.”

“You mean her husband? Of course, he would be taken in as well. Immediate family members always are.”

Lowell bit back a grin. It felt good to smile after so many endless hours of not knowing how to proceed, even if he stood the risk of pissing off his boss by doing it. “She ain’t married to either of her men, yet, sir. And, when she finally does marry one of ’em, she’d still never agree to leave the other behind.”

Marcum stared at him, his expression blank. He was a master FBI agent, one of the absolute best in the bureau. He knew how to keep every hint of any reaction to any situation tightly under his sleeve. “The Chandler brothers are the men you’re referring to, correct?”

“Yes, sir. The house where Chelsea killed Donnie Masino belongs to them. Well, the three of ’em now.”

“Horn Hill has quite a few, shall we say, unconventional relationships, sir,” Zane chimed in. “None of them are polygamous due to Alabama law, but they are ménage couples. Chelsea Landon’s relationship with Braden and Micah Chandler is one of them.”

Marcum slowly nodded, his eyes filling with a realization and understanding he didn’t attempt to conceal. “Which is also why the two of you have requested to be transferred to the Birmingham bureau. So you will be closer to Horn Hill.”

Though the man hadn’t worded his statements as questions, Lowell answered him anyway. “Yes, sir.”

The corners of Marcum’s lips twitched. “She must be some girl.”

Zane let out a half laugh. “You’ve got no idea, sir.”

“She will have to be if she is going to put up with the two of you together.” Marcum dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not judging you, gentlemen. As the old saying goes, whatever floats your boat. I will tell you, though, that I have already spoken with the Birmingham office. There aren’t any openings for you there, and they were not able to give me an idea of when there would be.”

Lowell’s gut twisted, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t sigh, and didn’t squirm. He could keep his emotions and reactions under his sleeve right along with Marcum when he needed to. “Then I’ll have my resignation on your desk tomorrow mornin’, sir.”

“As will I,” Zane said.

“Now hold on.” Marcum held up a hand, palm out. “Christ, you two really are crazy about this woman. I had a feeling you must be, so I took the liberty of checking into another option for you. Personally, I would do most anything to keep you here. I want the two of you on my team, but if you’re both hell bent on being closer to her, I at least want to keep you in the bureau. Jackson, Mississippi, is the next closest office to your home town, Lowell.”

Lowell nodded. “It’s about five hours away.”

“Perhaps I should have said it’s two hours closer than where you are now, then. At any rate, I spoke with an agent in Jackson. He heads a team of special agents in that office, and he can squeeze both of you in if you want to take that transfer until something opens in Birmingham.”

“We’ll take it,” Zane said before Lowell had the chance to respond.

Marcum sighed and scribbled something on the notepad in front of him. “Very well. I’ll get the ball rolling for you.”

Lowell pushed to his feet and saw Zane doing the same out of the corner of his eye. They knew when they had been dismissed. “Thank you, sir,” they said in unison.

“And Tucker, I know it’s pretty late in the day now but, if you’re planning to celebrate, how about doing it over a few more cups of coffee. You look like you could use it.”

* * * *

Where in the Sam Hill are they?

Danica stretched her legs out in front of her and shifted her ass on the front step of the house where Lowell and Zane were supposed to live. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting out here now, and she refused to walk to the rental car parked in the drive to check the time.

Dumbass, that’s what you get for leaving your phone back in Horn Hill.

And that, of course, was what she got for being in such a hurry, but she had refused to slow down. She had realized during the hour-long flight from the Birmingham Airport to Tampa that her decision to come here hadn’t been made on a whim. Sure, she hadn’t consciously considered it until she had been on the phone with Ben Hoffman, but the choice had already been made in the back of her mind. She had only needed Ben’s phone call and the news that Lowell and Zane were doing exactly what she had attempted to prevent them from doing in the first place to come to terms with the decision.

They were apparently ready to make what she thought of as the ultimate sacrifice just to be with her. But why did they have to be the ones to do it? Yes, she loved her house, she loved living in Horn Hill, and she loved her career. She would lose the first two, but her career, unlike theirs, would follow her anywhere.

She settled back on her hands as a cool breeze blew off the water across the street. They lived in a really nice neighborhood directly across from the Tampa Bay. She could easily see herself sitting out here, in a much more comfortable chair or swing, enjoying a summer afternoon. Writing would be great out here, too. She scanned the small front yard, her attention locking on a spot just under an enormous tree she deemed the perfect place to set up a small table to hold her laptop. She could plant some flowers, too, create a bed that stretched along the front of the house and fill it with roses and lavender plants, maybe even some flowers that were indigenous to Florida. Were there any flowers indigenous to Florida? She would have to do some research and find out.

She managed to settle into her thoughts, planning and planting in her mind until the entire yard looked like the Garden of Eden, and one minute stretched into the next. She got to her feet, slowly walked the full perimeter of the house, and her imagination moved from planting to accenting. It really was a beautiful house on the outside. She thought it could use some shutters on the windows, maybe some striking pieces of stained glass to replace the door-length windows on either side in the front.

She was considering that thought as she rounded the corner of the house, heading back to the front yard for another look, when she heard the sound of an approaching engine. She stopped in her tracks, watching as the truck grew closer, her pulse picking up pace as it slowed and eased into the driveway behind her rental car.

The truck, a midnight-blue F-250 step-side that had to belong to Lowell, sat higher than the little sports car she hadn’t been able to resist renting for a little while when she had landed at Tampa International. As the driver cut the engine, she slowly walked around the corner of the house, stopping when her gaze collided with Lowell’s through the windshield.

For a long, pulse-racing moment, Lowell simply sat there, glaring at her. She dared to glance away, her attention landing on Zane in the driver’s seat. Okay, so maybe the truck didn’t belong to Lowell after all.

Heart hammering in her chest so fiercely she wondered it didn’t burst clean through her breasts, she looked back at Lowell as he got out of the truck, her gaze taking in every inch of him from his booted feet to his cowboy hat.

Neither man spoke as they rounded the truck and came toward her. Their long, steady strides brought them within inches of her before either of them stopped.

Danica swallowed hard, licked her lips, and gave them a smile she knew quivered with every ounce of nerves speeding up her system. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lowell’s thick, southern drawl suddenly sounded out of place.

She dismissed the observation as quickly as it came to her, realizing it wasn’t him that was out of place. She was the one who suddenly felt that way.

“Dannie, what are you doing here, baby?”

If Zane hadn’t added double endearments to his question, she might have feared he didn’t want her here. He had every right to feel that way after the things she had said to him, to both of them.

“Looking for the two of you. I missed you at the bureau. I went there first when I got to town, but the receptionist or secretary or whoever she was said both of you had left twenty minutes before I got there.”

“Did she give you our address?”

She tried to get a sense of the inflection in Lowell’s tone, but failed. Staring into his eyes and attempting to read him didn’t do her any good either. “Um, wouldn’t that be against regulations, or something?”

He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and rocked back on the heels of his cowboy boots. “Yeah, it would.”

Damn it, why wasn’t either of them touching her? She had spent a good twenty minutes or more of the time she had waited for them fantasizing about this moment. She had pictured them pulling into the drive, racing up the walkway to get to her, yanking her into their arms, and kissing her stupid.

“Well, she didn’t break any rules. Research is part of my job description, remember? It wasn’t all that hard to figure out where you guys lived.”