Until Now (Plan B Book 1)

by Delaney Diamond

  “That makes sense. You’ve been through a lot.”

  His heart beat steadily under her cheek as his fingers slowly trailed up and down the arm she had thrown across his chest. Suddenly, he stopped moving, and she lay there in silence, holding still, waiting for him to say more.

  “Come with me, Shanice.”

  She lifted her head, not sure she’d heard him correctly. Their eyes locked.

  “Where?” she whispered.

  “I have a house in Islamorada in the Florida Keys. It’s quiet and peaceful and right on the water.” He tenderly smoothed a hand over her hair and tucked a curl behind her ear.

  “Sounds heavenly.”

  “Then you’ll come?”

  Her heart melted. She still didn’t know his last name, and relationships were complex enough without secrets and half-truths muddying the waters. But none of that mattered. She wanted to be with him and gave the only answer that made sense.

  “Yes.”

  “I disappear for weeks at a time, sometimes months—and I can’t tell you where I’m going. One day, I might not come back. Are you sure you can handle that? A life of not knowing if you’ll ever see your man again?”

  Her heart hurt at the possibility of harm coming to him, that one day he might never come back to her. “No, I’m not sure, but I want to be with you. I’ll make the sacrifice. You can’t talk me out of coming with you, Cruz. My answer is still yes.”

  27

  Randall watched as FBI agents carted computers and boxes of documents from his office. The yellow letters on their blue jackets were an ugly, glaring indictment as they carried out their duties on a weekday, in full view of staff and a barrage of onlookers in the street.

  “Mr. Logan?” A female agent with her red hair in a ponytail stood beside his chair. “I need you to come with me, sir.” A pair of handcuffs dangled from her hand.

  “Is that really necessary? I’m an old man, and I need my cane.”

  He eased from the chair and she stepped aside. Using his cane, Randall walked with as much dignity as he could muster. He exited the office to the stares of his assistant and a few employees that had gathered in the outer office. Randall kept his eyes trained straight ahead, focused on nothing but the air in front of him.

  His life was a wreck. The ensuing investigation would tarnish his name and destroy the empire he had built over the last forty years.

  His youngest son had been murdered. Pain bloomed in his chest at the thought of Jacob being shot down in the street like an animal. His boy, his successor, the one who inspired his greatest sense of pride—was gone for good. His oldest son, the traitor, had turned against him and was working with the FBI. Joseph, his longtime friend, was no longer taking his calls.

  Randall stood in front of the closed elevator doors with an agent on either side of him.

  This type of upheaval late in life could kill a weaker man, but Randall Logan was strong. He might be down, but he wasn’t out, and he had plenty to live for.

  Not the least of which was revenge.

  28

  “Hey, Mr. Hudson!” Shanice waved to the neighbor, who owned a small bookstore and coffee shop on the island.

  “Hey there!” Seated on his porch, the older man’s tanned, wrinkled face broke into a grin as he waved back.

  Shanice parked her bike in the cobblestone driveway of Cruz’s house and let herself in the front door, balancing a bag of groceries on her hip.

  Islamorada was a village on six islands in the Keys. Known as the “Sportfishing Capital of the World,” its tranquility was exactly what she had been hoping for after the chaotic period in her life. Since coming there, she’d stayed busy visiting the diving museum, hanging at Hudson’s Bookstore, and taking an ecotour.

  Shanice walked across the bamboo floors, past the dining room and into the living room where a large window looked out at the back yard and the Gulf beyond. Cruz’s three-bedroom house was an open floorplan that sat on a lot he’d purchased years ago in a small exclusive neighborhood. Working with a builder, he’d designed the mostly white interior and the exterior, which included a swimming pool and hot tub that could be accessed by walking down the stairs from the covered deck into the back yard. The boat slip allowed them to jump in his small boat and island-hop at their convenience.

  She’d spoken to Beatrice a couple of times in the past two weeks. The older woman assured her that she didn’t blame her for what happened and was glad that she was finally safe. She spoke to Ava once, giving her limited information about her pursuit of justice for her dead friend, and her run from killers. She did let Ava know she’d met someone but didn’t tell her it was their favorite customer. She wanted to keep that to herself a little bit longer.

  She talked to her mother almost every day, including this morning. She’d flown to Arizona to spend time with her but returned after a few days because she missed the love bubble she and Cruz were enclosed in.

  Shanice put away the groceries and then prepared two glasses of iced lemonade before padding to the back deck that overlooked the pool and hot tub. She took a seat in one of the chairs and waited for Cruz to notice she was back.

  He was swimming laps, and when he saw her, he pulled himself out of the pool, wearing only a navy-blue Speedo, water dripping down his muscular body.

  “Brought you something,” Shanice said, holding up one of the glasses.

  He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. His firm, moist lips never failed to make her tingle.

  “I think you’re enjoying your time off,” she said.

  “I am. Because I have good company.” He took the glass and sat down across from her.

  Shanice picked up the book he had been reading earlier—The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History.

  “How is this?” she asked, flipping to the bookmarked page where he’d stopped.

  “Fascinating. I can barely put it down. I think you’ll want to read it when I’m done.”

  Shanice flipped to the first page. “If you like it that much, I’ll definitely have to check it out.”

  The phone on the table beside her rang.

  “It’s a video call, from Raheem,” she said, handing it to him.

  Cruz answered the call. “¿Que bola, acere? Is that a beach I see? Don’t tell me you’re back in Rio.”

  His friend laughed. “Of course. I might move here permanently and make this my base.”

  “You have a woman down there, don’t you?”

  “Women,” Raheem corrected with a laugh.

  Shanice smiled and shook her head.

  “As much time as you spend there, shouldn’t you be fluent in Portuguese now?”

  “You know I’m no good at languages—except the language of love.”

  Shanice couldn’t see the wolfish grin spread across his face, but she heard it.

  Cruz groaned. “Dios, that was really bad, acere.”

  Raheem laughed. “Enough about me. How’s life in the slow lane?”

  “So far so good.”

  Shanice went to stand over Cruz’s shoulder. “Hi.” She waved at Raheem.

  “You both look happy, so I guess everything is going well. I was just checking on you.”

  “We’re doing fine.” Shanice rested a hand on Cruz’s wet shoulder.

  “I’ve been keeping up with the news and saw what happened to Logan. Couldn’t have happened to a better guy.”

  The FBI seized his records and forensic accountants were in the process of digging into his financials, where they expected to find tax avoidance and other illegal activities. He’d already been charged with six counts of murder in the case of the dead police officers. The others, after learning that he was killing them off to tie up loose ends, agreed to testify against him regarding his scheme to force tenants out of their homes.

  “And Dennis’s name has been cleared,” Shanice said.

  The Houston Times did an entire series of articles about Dennis and his investigative work and
had interviewed her for the series. From what she understood, they’d tried to interview his wife, too, but Karen had declined the invitation. Instead, she sent a heartfelt letter of gratitude to Cruz and Shanice through Miles, thanking them for clearing her husband’s name. Their last contact with her was when she paid the balance of Cruz’s fee.

  “No word on the senator’s involvement?” Raheem asked, a frown of concern marring his forehead.

  “Nothing’s going to come of it. Miles refuses to touch it,” Cruz said, sounding irritated.

  “I don’t blame him. Ruffle the wrong feathers, and the next thing you know, they’ll shut down the agency.”

  Cruz nodded, oddly reticent in his response.

  “Shanice, make sure he continues to take care of himself. He works too hard.”

  “I will,” she said with a grin. “You take care of yourself, too.”

  “I will.” Raheem threw up the peace sign and hung up.

  Cruz pulled her down onto his lap, and she draped her arms around his shoulders. “I had a great idea today.”

  “What?”

  “No cooking for you tonight. I’m taking you to Key West for dinner, dancing, and we can spend the night at a local hotel and come back in the morning. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds ah-mazing,” Shanice replied. “I can’t wait.”

  Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the house and shone a spotlight on their lovemaking. The sound of rain hitting the roof made their lazy morning tryst that much more intimate.

  Cruz dragged Shanice to the edge of the bed and set her ankles on his shoulders. His downstroke was powerful and hit deep. He made her take all of him, filling her core with such pleasure her entire being trembled with each dominant stroke. He forced the pleasure on her and tore the air from her lungs as his body constantly sliced into hers.

  The heat from the early morning sex act made Shanice’s skin damp as she reveled in every thrust of his hips between her thighs. Gripping his muscular arms, she arched higher to take more of him.

  She moaned, begged, pleaded, and looped one arm around his neck so that she could drag him closer and sink her teeth into his strong throat. Sex was always like this with him. Rough, even when it was tender. Strong, intense, from the very first moment they made love. The night she locked eyes with this virile, sexy man in The Bookish Attic, she’d been thrown for a loop. Her unsteadiness only increased in the three weeks since she moved into his house in the Keys.

  He groaned, forging his body deeper into hers. She met each thrust by gripping his deltoids, tightening around his erection until she came undone. An orgasm rippled through her loins up into her belly, and she cried out, tightening her legs around his neck. Seconds later, he let out a low groan and collapsed on top of her. He was certainly not light, but the weight of him was comforting and reassuring.

  Rolling onto his back, Cruz let out a heavy breath and stared up at the ceiling.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  Shanice giggled, twisting onto her side and looking at his profile. “Dare I say it? I love this new way of waking up in the morning.”

  He shifted onto his side and faced her, too. “Well, that’s perfect then. Because I was thinking this should be the way we start every morning.”

  He was too much. With the sexy Cuban accent, intense umber eyes, and a warm smile that brightened her day whenever she saw it, she couldn’t have asked for a better man.

  She stroked his hair-roughened jaw. He hadn’t shaved in over a week. “I like the beard,” she said.

  “¿Sí?” He rolled on top of her and nuzzled her neck.

  “Yes.” Shanice let out a peal of laughter, twisting in his arms as he tickled her. “Behave.”

  She slapped away his hand and pushed him off.

  “I’m hungry. You hungry?”

  “Mhmm.” He folded his arms behind his head and watched her get dressed.

  Shanice buttoned her white shirt. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “Is there any more fruit salad left?”

  “Yep. Fruit salad, bacon, and waffles?”

  “That sounds good. Now I’m extra hungry.” He rubbed his bare belly.

  “Then I better hurry up and feed you.” Shanice pulled on a pair of shorts and then leaned down to give him a quick smack on the lips. “Breakfast coming right up, my dear.”

  29

  Shanice knew the moment his warm body rolled away from hers.

  She’d gotten used to spending time with Cruz, used to his presence. She’d woken up almost as soon as he left the bed with the phone glued to his ear.

  He walked naked to the patio door, the sunlight streaming through the sheer drapes illuminating his tawny-colored skin and highlighting the lines of his muscular body and the scars that disclosed the harshness of his chosen profession. He didn’t say much, and the conversation didn’t last long. Maybe only two minutes. But afterward, he dropped his head and stared at the phone.

  “What is it?” she asked quietly, sitting up in the bed.

  Cruz turned to her and smiled, but she could see that he was troubled.

  “That was Miles. They have a job for me. This one is out of the country.”

  She’d known this day would come but hoped they had more time.

  He climbed into the bed as the dull ache of regret pushed tears to the corners of her eyes. Their time together hadn’t been very long. Barely a month, but only if you counted the days when they were running for their lives.

  “I understand,” she said.

  His hand cupped her cheek, and his thumb gently brushed the corner of her mouth.

  “I want this to be the last one,” he said.

  Shanice held his hand and kissed the middle of his palm. Shaking her head, she said, “You don’t mean that.”

  “I’ve been thinking about leaving the agency, and it’s the only thing that makes sense. What I do is dangerous work, and I don’t want you to worry or get tangled up in my missions.”

  “You’ll miss the adventure. You’ll get bored.”

  Cruz shrugged. “I’ll adjust.”

  “Can you? You’ve worked for the government almost half your life, and you’re very good at what you do. This work is in your blood.” She wanted him to stop, but not if it meant his happiness.

  “Something else is in my blood now. You.”

  Shanice cupped his face, bringing her lips close to his. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  She swallowed hard. “I love you.”

  He smiled his crooked grin. “I love you, too.”

  She smiled back, her heart beating faster with elation. She used to think you couldn’t really know someone or love them until you’d spent a lot of time with them. Her last relationship had been a bust even though she’d known her boyfriend for years. But the truth was, until now, she’d never known what real love could be.

  Cruz had given her a new perspective. In a short time, he’d taught her there was no timeline where love was concerned. Words like “the norm” were irrelevant when it came to matters of the heart. She’d fallen in love with him and already couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.

  How did this happen? How did she fall so hard for a man she’d known only a short time, with no reservations that he was her soulmate—the one made for her?

  “And you’re sure you want to walk away from your career?” Shanice asked in a soft voice.

  “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. You’re my future, Shanice. Maybe I’ll start that security company I told you about. Or I’ll do something else. Whatever I decide, I want you beside me.”

  She kissed him, their lips melting together in a soft, affectionate caress. Sliding a leg between his thighs, she pushed him onto his back and settled on top of his chest.

  Cruz smoothed his hands down the curve of her back and let them rest on her butt cheeks. He squeezed and lifted his pelvis into hers, groaning as he did so.

  “When
do you leave?” Shanice asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  God, she would miss him. Everything about him. The earthy, citrusy tang of his cologne, his deep laughter, and the way he touched her as if he never wanted to stop.

  Shanice swallowed the pain of disappointment and said a quick prayer for his safe return. “Then let’s make the most of the time you have left.”

  Cruz had never been so reluctant to leave on assignment before, but as he kissed Shanice goodbye at the door, her eyes filled with concern, he badly wished that he had a choice.

  He’d only seen his life the way it had always been—alone. But Shanice had him thinking about lifestyle changes he’d never considered before—like home. Family. Love. He wished that he had a regular job, one where he left in the morning and came back in the evening to this woman who had turned his house into a home.

  “Please be safe,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe and gripping his shirt in her fists.

  “It’s nice to have someone so concerned about me. I think I could get used to this.” Cruz dropped one last kiss to her lips and got in one more squeeze of her delectable bottom before he pulled back. “I have to go before I miss my flight,” he said with regret.

  “Okay. Take care.”

  He walked to the car and tossed in his duffel bag. The agency expected him to be gone at least two months, but he intended to cut that time short by a significant amount.

  He waved to her at the door. She stood in a short silk robe, head resting against the frame. His future, and the more he thought about it, his wife. He was going to marry Shanice Lawrence, and he would do so as soon as he came back.

  Shanice blew him a kiss as he backed out of the drive, and he drove off to the airport with a heavy heart.

  Once there, he picked up his new identity in a locker and used it to get through security. On the plane, he fired off a quick text to Shanice and then settled in for the flight to DC and his briefing with Miles. A trip to DC wasn’t always necessary, but this particular mission required the stop before he flew to Europe where he’d pose as a gun smuggler.