“Is this the man you saw murdered, Ms. Peres?” one of the detectives asked.
She nodded as she swallowed back her bile. “Yes. I’m pretty sure. And that’s what he was wearing.”
Two hours later, they gathered all three together to talk. “We’ll coordinate with the federal prosecutor’s office in Tampa about this,” the lead detective said. “We can’t risk jeopardizing their case against the Scorsinis. Where can we get in touch with you, Ms. Peres?”
Jerald spoke up. “She’s currently without a permanent address. You can reach her through me. I’ll take responsibility for her.”
One of the detectives arched an eyebrow, but he noted the report. “Why is that, Major?”
“Right now, we’re the only friends she’s got. We’re damn sure not sending her away so Scorsini’s goons can hunt her down.”
“The reports will stay sealed for now. Her identity is safe.”
“Not for long,” she sullenly groused.
“We can talk to the feds about putting you into protective custody, Ms. Peres.”
She anxiously shook her head. “No, I don’t want to. I want to stay right where I am.”
They left the sheriff’s office and headed for Aripeka. On the way, Jerald detoured and pulled into a drugstore parking lot. He reached behind the seat and rummaged through a bag for a notepad and pen. “Daph, write down what Alan needs to buy for you to do your hair.”
“What?”
He pointed. “Your hair color. You need to dye your hair. Scorsini’s guys, if they come after you, will be looking for a blond with long hair.”
“I can go in and get it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you on surveillance video. I’m not taking any chances.”
She jotted down the information and Alan went in for it. After, Jerald drove them back to Alan’s, where he checked his watch. “I need to go patrol. I’ll be back later.”
Alan and Daphne got out of the truck. Alan walked around to the driver’s door and stuck his head through the window. He kissed Jerald goodbye. “Dinner?” Alan asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
“Duh.”
Jerald smiled and waved before pulling out of the driveway.
Alan unlocked the front door and escorted her inside. “How long will it take to do your hair?”
“About thirty minutes. Then I take a shower to rinse it out.”
“Go get it done, kiddo.” She carried her supplies into the bathroom while he took care of paperwork before he made them some lunch.
When she emerged, her hair damp, he stared, stunned.
“Well?” she asked, her voice sounding nervous.
Alan thought she looked gorgeous. The blonde color had not suited her at all, her darker eyebrows betraying her unnatural color even more than her dark roots.
“It’s you. It looks really good on you. Promise me you won’t go back to being a blonde?”
She smiled, maybe the first open smile he’d ever seen from her. “I promise. I hated it anyway. I only did it because Paulie told me to. Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“I want to cut it shorter. Can you come do it for me?” It still hung below her shoulders.
“Of course.”
He followed her to her bathroom. After combing it straight down her back, he took the scissors. “How short you want it?”
“You know that hard bone at the base of my neck?”
He reached out, felt, and found it. “Yeah.”
“To there. Then it’s still long enough to pull it back into a ponytail.”
He carefully cut, doing his best to keep it even. When he finished, another three inches of her hair lay on the floor.
She smiled as she checked it in the mirror and ran her hands through it. “Perfect! Thank you.”
He left to put the final touches on lunch while she finished her hair. He heard the hair dryer run for a few minutes. When she walked into the kitchen, his jaw dropped.
She’d done a little more trimming, creating long layers on the sides. “It’s not perfect,” she nervously said, “but it’s how I used to always wear it before I met Paulie. I should get to a stylist at some point, let them even it out for me.
“It’s gorgeous. I wouldn’t recognize you.”
She sat at the table. “Let’s hope no one else does, either.”
Jerald almost didn’t. When he walked in a little before seven and saw her standing at the kitchen counter, he stopped and did a double-take. “Daph?”
She nervously smiled. “Yep.”
Alan laughed at Jerald’s reaction. “I know. Huge difference, right?” Jerald nodded.
She’d been cute before. Now she looked beautiful, enhanced by her natural shyness. She obviously had no clue how pretty she looked.
“Good difference,” Jerald agreed. She blushed again. He stepped forward. “Is that your original color?”
“This is darker than normal, but that’s okay. My roots won’t show while they grow in. Once it gets long enough, I’ll dye it a color close to my own. I had him get a really dark brown, almost black, to hide the blond. I wasn’t sure how light it would turn out. My normal color is a light reddish brown.”
* * * *
After dinner she returned to her bedroom to watch TV, leaving the men alone. Alan wrapped his arms around Jerald. “What would you like to do now?”
Jerald didn’t want to move from that spot but knew they still had things to do. “You need to come home with me.”
Alan rolled his eyes and let go of Jerald. “We are not having this argument again.”
Jerald smirked. “Well, we are if you want to help me move some of my stuff tonight. I can’t drive two vehicles. And if you help me pack my clothes, it’ll go faster.”
A wide grin slowly spread across Alan’s face. “You mean it?”
“Yeah, I mean it. But it’s late. If you want to start this project and want me sleeping here tonight, you have to help me. I want to get my clothes and uniforms moved over. I’ll get the other stuff later.”
Alan kissed him, crushing Jerald’s lips with his. “Let me go tell her we’ll be back soon.”
“Well, hurry up. I’ll wait for you in the truck.”
He walked outside while Alan scurried down the hall. Yeah, he had it bad for Alan. He supposed he’d better learn how to deal with this sooner rather than later. He couldn’t let Alan watch out for her alone. Alan hated guns, despite growing up a cop’s son. Alan only tolerated him bringing his work sidearm into the house because it meant he’d spend the night.
Someone around here has to be armed if we’re hiding a mobster’s ex-girlfriend.
He’d have to work on her about the protective custody issue. Maybe he could gently talk her into it. That would be the safest option for all of them, especially her. If he tried to force the issue, it would only piss Alan off.
And admittedly, if he spent more time around her, that meant more time to talk her into protective custody. Although now that he knew she wasn’t a scam artist, his attitude toward her had changed for the better.
Alan burst out the front door with a beaming smile on his face. He jumped into Jerald’s truck. “Let’s go!”
Shaking his head and laughing, Jerald started the truck and pulled out.
Chapter Nine
Daphne awoke early on Sunday before Jerald and Alan left for the marina. She wouldn’t be tap dancing any time soon, but her feet felt a lot better and she didn’t need the rolling chair anymore.
“Can I make you lunch or something to take with you?” she asked.
Alan gave her one of his mouth-watering smiles. “Thanks, sweetie, but that’s okay. Already done.”
“What about tonight? Can I cook dinner? I feel sort of useless. I’d like to do something to earn my keep.”
The men exchanged a glance. “Sure, if you feel up to it,” Alan said. “Feel free to raid the freezer. There’s lots of stuff in there.”
&
nbsp; “What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“Should be around six. We’ll call if it’ll be later.”
Once they left and she had the place to herself, she ate a little breakfast, made another pot of coffee, and turned on the music.
She dusted the house first, even though it didn’t really need it. She vacuumed the floors, mopped, cleaned the bathrooms, and did laundry.
That took her as far as noon.
Jerald stopped by a little after one to check on her and found she’d alphabetized Alan’s extensive DVD collection.
He smiled. “You a little bored?”
“I just want to be useful.”
He tipped his head. “Follow me.” The night before, he and Alan had dumped all his clothes into the third bedroom, which doubled as Alan’s office. “If you want, you can hang my stuff. Alan cleared out a couple of drawers and some closet space for me in his—our bedroom.” He looked like he almost blushed a little. “If you want to, that is.”
“No problem.” Actually, it relieved her. That he asked for her help for something like this meant he’d accepted her to a certain extent.
He smiled. A genuine smile, not a “cop trying to put her at ease” smile. “Thanks, sweetie.”
“Do you want something to eat?”
“No, I’m okay. Just wanted to check on you.”
“Did Alan ask you to, or is it more boyfriend brownie points?”
He grinned. “You are a ballbuster, aren’t you?”
“I have my moments.”
Alone once again, she started on her new project. Alan’s taste in clothes ran to casual, casual, fishing guide boat wear, and…more casual. With a few pairs of jeans, and exactly one suit that could be worn to a wedding or a funeral.
More surprising was Jerald’s wardrobe. He owned several expensive, tailored suits, dress slacks and shirts, clothes an executive would wear.
Another surprising layer to Major Carter.
When the men returned home that evening, she had beef stew, a huge salad, and biscuits waiting for them. They ate first, then she refused their help cleaning up. “Nope, go take a shower or whatever. This is my job.”
Alan leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You’re the best, sweetie.”
The men disappeared to their bedroom. Then she heard the shower in the master bathroom start a few minutes later, followed by what she suspected were noises of them having a little fun.
She smiled. Okay, so living with a couple of horny hunks with drool-worthy bods wasn’t a bad thing. Just her bad luck they were gay, meaning totally off-limits. Maybe she couldn’t join them, but they could feed her own nighttime fantasies.
Le sigh.
* * * *
She quickly found the men’s days off varied. Jerald had the next Wednesday off, but Alan had two charters that day.
Alan didn’t pout when he found that out late Monday, but he looked close to it. “Guess that means I can’t help you get moved.”
“I’ll help,” Daphne volunteered. Her feet didn’t bother her anymore. Alan had run her to the store that afternoon so she could get sneakers and a few other items, like bras and socks, to fill in her skimpy wardrobe selection. “I don’t mind.”
The men exchanged a look. “Okay,” Alan said. “If you’re sure?”
“It’s the least I can do.” There were far worse ways to spend the day than with a hunky, well-armed officer of the law.
Well-armed being a key point in her mind.
On Wednesday, Daphne rode with Jerald to his trailer. From the outside it didn’t look as bad as Alan had made it sound. The landscaping was practically non-existent, just plain Bahia grass and one lonely cabbage palm near the driveway, but the yard had been recently mowed.
The travel trailer admittedly looked ancient and ugly, but nothing to make Jerald eligible for the white trash club.
The interior was a different matter.
“Oh.” She looked around, almost afraid to walk too far inside.
He noticed her expression and laughed. “Yeah, it’s bad. It’s clean, though. No bugs.”
“Alan mentioned a rat.”
“Raccoon. That was weeks ago. I trapped it and got rid of it.” He pointed to a place in the floor near an A/C vent. It had been recently patched with plywood. “He came in through there one night.” He tossed his keys on the counter. “It’s over thirty years old and the roof used to leak. That’s why I got the rent so cheap. I reroofed the damn thing one weekend and started ripping out the bad carpet and paneling and stuff. I know it’s not pretty, but it’s a place to keep myself reasonably dry. I could afford it. Then after Alan and I got together, I spent most nights there anyway.”
She walked forward and felt one portion of the bare plywood floor give under her feet in a springy, unsettling sort of way. “And you resisted moving in with Alan…why?”
He shrugged. “I’m a moron. Shoot me.”
He laughed when she held up one hand and cocked her thumb and index finger at him. “What goes first?” she asked.
He led the way to a tiny back bedroom, which had been crammed full of boxes. “All this stuff, for starters. Leave the heavy boxes. I’ll carry them. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
One box at the top of the pile closest to the door was marked “Ernie.” The top flaps lay open. “What’s this?” She reached in and lifted out an old, pristine hardcover copy of To Have and Have Not.
“Those are my Hemingway books.”
“Ernest Hemingway?”
“Yes. Some of those are rare copies.”
She carefully replaced the book. “I wouldn’t have made you to be a Hemingway kind of guy.”
He smirked. The expression looked cute on him. “Why’s that?”
She realized how stupid and condescending her observation sounded. “Sorry. I guess considering I’m an English major who lived as a mobster’s bimbo for a while, I don’t have much room to talk.”
“So what did you think a fish and game cop would like? Willie Nelson, Guns and Ammo, and pay-per-view porn?”
Heat filled her face. He really was a lot more complex than she gave him credit for. “No. I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry. You’re just…”
“Complicated? Deep? Complex?” he offered with an amused smile.
“And so modest, too.”
He laughed, but it sounded warm and inviting, playfully teasing. “Honey, there’s a lot more to me than meets the eye. Most people don’t assume I’ve got a boyfriend, either.” He shifted the heavy box of books out of her way. “That gives us another thing in common.”
“What, that people don’t assume I’ve got a boyfriend?”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “No. That we’re both a lot different than we appear on the surface.”
* * * *
They made three trips from the trailer to Alan’s. One more would do it, but on the return trip to the trailer, Jerald brought a box of cleaning supplies and Alan’s shop vac.
“Just because it’s a piece of shit trailer,” he said in response to her questioning look, “doesn’t mean I want to leave it dirty.”
They moved out the last of his things. Once the trailer was empty and they’d gone through all the closets and cabinets to make sure they’d retrieved everything, she helped him clean the place as best they could. After one final look around, Jerald declared it good enough.
“Better than when I moved in, that’s for sure.” He pulled a key from his pocket, removed another from his key ring, and left them both on the counter. “Don, the guy who owns it, is going to stop by later today to get them. He said to leave it unlocked. Not like anyone’s going to trash the place between now and then,” Jerald quipped.
After unloading the last batch of boxes into the house, Jerald hugged her. “Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“Yes, you did. Plus you kept me company.” He appeared a little uncomfortable. “Look, I know I came off a l
ittle hostile those first couple of days. I’m sorry about that. I really did enjoy spending time with you today.”
“I enjoyed it, too. I’m sorry I’ve uprooted your lives like this.”
He shrugged. “Well, at least Alan’s happy. I was only going to move in a little of my stuff last week. You kind of threw a wrench in my time line. In a good way,” he quickly added.
“You guys are lucky you’ve got each other.” She mentally kicked herself after saying it.
She couldn’t interpret the look he gave her. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her again. “Hey, you’ve got us. I know it sucks being alone. Been there, done that. Seriously, it’s okay.”
That finished her. She broke down sobbing. “Please don’t make me go into protective custody! You guys are all I’ve got and I’m so scared!” She hated she couldn’t control herself, that she’d let her emotions bubble over like that.
He guided her over to the couch where he sat, pulled her into his lap, and rocked her. “You’re not going anywhere,” he quietly assured her. “I told them I’m taking care of you and I meant it. I won’t make you go, I promise.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“Shh.” He did make her feel safe. The fact that he wasn’t being protective just to try to get into her pants at the same time only intensified to her emotions. “You’ll be okay.”
* * * *
Jerald sat there and held her. He felt horrible for her. No, he wouldn’t make her go into protective custody even though every instinct in his body told him that was exactly where she should be. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to feel her crushing loneliness, compounded by fear. He remembered being alone. He remembered mind-numbing fear. Having lived through it as a kid, it wasn’t something easily forgotten.
He closed his eyes as he held her, her face tucked against his shoulder. Alan had done the thing no one else in his life had ever managed, to help him quiet the memories, the voices, the sounds of gunfire in the night and his mother screaming his father’s name before another shot rang out and she went silent forever. Drug dealers going after the wrong house. Later, the cops discovered the assholes had transposed the numbers in the address of their intended victims. He’d been six and hid under his bed until the cops responding to the neighbor’s 911 call found him, crying, twenty minutes later.
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