Trouble in Tallahassee (Familiar Legacy Book 3) Read online

  Layla smiled in a way that confirmed Abby’s belief that Layla and Victor were very much an item. At the thought that they’d obviously made up, Abby felt strangely disappointed. But more than that, she puzzled over this flirtation if Miguel knew Layla had a boyfriend. Maybe the challenge was part of the fun for him? But thinking back to the way he’d been with her at the law firm, Abby decided it was just Miguel’s way to flirt.

  Which didn’t explain Layla’s hair flipping and throaty answers.

  “We really need to go meet them.” This time Layla sounded all business.

  Glad to get to work, Abby didn’t argue.

  “Good night, then, ladies,” Miguel said, smiling once more at Layla in that slow, sensual way. He began to drift off, but turned once to look back at them.

  Layla hurried toward the basement stairs, but Abby stopped at the drink machine that had been their original goal. She dug out some dollar bills and pushed them in, selecting a bottle of sweet green mango tea for herself and a bottle of unsweetened green tea with mint for Layla.

  Juggling her purse, the bottled teas, and her laptop, Abby hurried after Layla.

  As they made their way down the stairs to the basement floor of the library, Abby asked, “So, you’re helping Miguel with research on his book?”

  “Yeah.” Layla swiped her access card and they stepped inside the basement room of the library where old case law and old legal books were kept. All the lights were blazing and the room was frigid with full-tilt air conditioning, yet a diffused musty smell still floated in the air.

  Abby stared at Layla, conscious again that Layla didn’t mind asking Abby the most personal questions, but she didn’t ever seem inclined to share much information about herself. “Yeah?” Abby repeated. “That’s all you’ve got to say about it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about Victor and Emmett? You didn’t really invite them to come help us, did you?”

  “Yes, actually, I did. Emmett, anyway. He’s delighted in that nerdy way of his. I need to call Victor now.”

  Abby wasn’t sure the “more the merrier” was a good plan on legal research, especially when Emmett was involved. It looked like Victor and Layla had made up though, and no doubt that was the real reason Layla had invited the men—Emmett to help with the research and Victor to visit with Layla.

  Abby sighed, dreading Emmett’s hovering and unable to shake her lingering disappointment over Layla and Victor getting back together.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The outer door to the suite of law review offices was unlocked and Victor stepped inside. He didn’t see anyone, but headed straight for Layla’s office. Maybe she wasn’t over being mad at him. But, damn it all, she was in some kind of trouble. If she wasn’t in her office where he could ask her about the flash drive he’d found taped to the Drapers’ toilet tank, he might just snoop a bit and see if he spotted anything that matched with the materials on the flash drive.

  Victor jiggled Layla’s door. Naturally it was locked. The lights were out and it didn’t make any kind of sense that she’d be sitting inside in the dark. He looked around. Nobody anywhere in sight. He switched off his cell phone. It wouldn’t do to have it ring while he was breaking, entering, and snooping. Once the cell phone was off, he tried the door again, shaking the knob with a bit more force. Then he bent down and scrutinized the locking mechanism on the door.

  The intricacies of plumbing weren’t the only thing his father had pressed Victor to learn. The man might have been a jerk with a ruthless attitude toward most things, but he was an ace mechanic, a fearless high-rise window cleaner, a competent roofer, and a jack-leg locksmith. He’d taught these skills to Victor, insisting as he did that his son would always know how to make a living.

  Victor laughed, wondering if his dad ever used his skills to break in. Manipulating the thin, narrow blade on his pocket knife, Victor worked the cheap lock opened in less than a minute. It wasn’t the first time he felt grateful to his father for all the how-to-do lessons over the rough years of his youth. He ought to mention to Layla that the door didn’t provide any real security.

  Fortunately, enough light from the hallway and the high office window filtered in that he could see his way around. Victor booted up the PC on Layla’s desk. While it was going through its gyrations, he flipped through a few loose papers on her desk. Quickly bored with them, he looked through her drawer and spotted a library access card. There were also collections of other access cards labeled law review, which he assumed might be keys to the law review offices. But right now, it was the library access card that held his interest. He could slide the card through the scanner on any of the locked rooms or basement and get inside—one of the perks Layla particularly enjoyed. Victor was tempted, but he’d never been a thief.

  Yet, if Layla was in the library, she might well be in the basement. Something about all those old books down there fascinated her of late. He slipped the access card into his shirt pocket, promising himself he’d bring it back tomorrow. Then as an afterthought, he also pocketed one of the access cards labeled law review. If he didn’t need it to find Layla tonight, he’d return it. He sat down in her chair, planning to scan through her various folders on her computer, looking for something that might be the “secret” he’d heard her mention.

  The computer demanded a password.

  He leaned back in his chair to think. Layla wouldn’t be so simple-minded as to use just a catchy word. No names of dead pets or old boyfriends for her. No, she’d have a complicated string of symbols, letters, and numbers. There was no use trying to guess; he’d just get locked out after the third failed try and she’d know somebody had tried to access her files.

  He felt under the keyboard to see if there was any paper that might have the password. Finding nothing, he stood up, eyeing things in her office, then yanked open the filing cabinet.

  Victor had his nose buried in a file labeled offshore oil drilling when the door banged open. He spun around just as Emmett yelled out, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Lifting the file out of the cabinet as easy and smooth as if he were not stealing something, Victor smiled sheepishly. “You startled me.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Emmett’s sarcastic tone was obvious. “But I repeat. What are you doing in here? You are not on law review.”

  Victor recognized Emmett as they were both third-year law students. He also knew that Emmett worked at the Draper law firm in the afternoons and that Layla thought he was an overly ambitious buffoon. But none of that solved the immediate problem.

  “Picking up something for Layla.” Victor held up the file as if to show it to Emmett. Everyone knew Layla and Victor were friends, so he hoped the lie would be believable.

  “Well, okay.” Emmett stepped up to Victor and eyed the file, squinting as if to read the label.

  Victor gave Emmett a quick grin and darted for the door.

  “Hey, why’s her PC on?” Emmett yelled after him. “Did you turn it on? And where’s your key? Show me your key.”

  Victor kept going.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Abby headed toward a study carrel in a corner, put down her laptop and her two bottles of green tea and pulled out the chair. It was going to be a long night.

  Layla punched in a number on her cell phone and sighed when she got voice mail. “Yo, Victor. It’s me. Abby and I are in the law school library basement and need your help. Come find us as soon as you can. Give me a call on your cell when you get here, and I’ll let you in the door.” Layla disconnected the call and glanced at Abby. “He’ll be here soon. He’s as reliable as Lassie.”

  The Layla-Victor relationship puzzled Abby, but lots of couples were on-again, off-again. She wondered if he flirted around like Layla did. Still, she had to accept it: Victor and Layla were an item, however dysfunctional their relationship might be. And Abby didn’t steal other women’s boyfriends.

  Layla plopped her backpack and laptop on a table near the carrel. She du
g through a pocket and pulled out a stick of gum. Abby sighed as she watched Layla stuff the gum in her mouth. Smacking on the gum, Layla booted up the laptop. A second later, she sat down in a chair and hunched over it as if trying to cover up whatever she was typing.

  Abby frankly didn’t care if Layla was writing smutty emails to Victor or what, so long as she didn’t take long doing it and got to work soon.

  Ah, Victor. Abby couldn’t help but think about him yet again. Was he already on his way here to see Layla?

  Work, Abby told herself. Stop daydreaming about somebody else’s boyfriend.

  Abby opened her laptop, pulled up the incomplete trial brief and her notes, and reviewed them quickly. With any luck at all, she could whip through the first part and be ready to finish once Layla brought her the case law she needed. After rubbing her eyes, she opened her bottled tea and took a sip, looked at the calorie content, and made a vow to do two extra workouts tomorrow.

  At the carrel next to her, Layla kept typing like a maniac. Abby tried to pretend she wasn’t sneaking covert glances at Layla’s screen. With a sideways glance at Abby, Layla slammed the laptop shut and stood up. “Just law review stuff. Don’t worry, I’m all yours now.”

  Abby shoved a list of cases over toward Layla. “These are the main ones I need, really old stuff about dower rights and the rule against perpetuities.”

  “Okay. Keep an eye on my stuff, while I go dig them up.” Layla wandered off, chewing gum as she went.

  Half an hour or so into the typing, Abby needed to pee. She didn’t want to shout out for Layla to come guard their piles of stuff, yet she knew unprotected laptops were a frequent target of library thieves. She crossed her legs and tried to think about dower rights instead of all the coffee and tea she’d drunk that day.

  No, there was no getting around it. She needed to pee. She stood and looked down the nearest corridors between book cases and didn’t see a soul. Cocking her head like a curious cat, she listened. Nothing. Where were Victor and Emmett? Where was Layla anyway?

  If nobody was in the basement but them, nobody would steal their stuff, and she couldn’t wait. Knowing how fanatical Layla was over her laptop and backpack, Abby put them on the floor under the carrel and piled a stack of books and magazines from the library over them. Satisfied she’d hidden them well enough, Abby sprinted to the bathroom. Done, she hurried back, relieved to see the laptops were right where she left them. Ditto Layla’s precious backpack.

  Hoping for a boost, Abby reached for her tea, and took a long swallow. Odd, she didn’t remember it having such a bitter aftertaste. Bitter or not, she took another gulp, licked her lips against the astringent taste of the stuff, dug out her laptop, and started typing again.

  A moment later, she heard the steady padding of someone walking toward her and she looked up. Emmett approached, his face perky, yet determined. Suddenly she couldn’t stand the thought of Emmett chattering, buttering her up, and showing off. She wanted to get rid of him, and soon.

  “So glad Layla invited me to help.” Emmett’s voice practically chirped. “I am a skilled researcher and have an ardent interest in dower and the rule against perpetuities issues.” He grinned as if he’d made a joke. In a way, he had. Nobody had an “ardent” interest in dower and the rule against perpetuities.

  Once more, Abby wondered why in the world Layla had invited Emmett to join them. All Abby could think of was that Layla wanted Emmett to do the research so she could make up—and make out—with Victor.

  Emmett loomed over her, grinning. Abby wanted to shoo him away more than ever, but out of politeness, she struggled for a nice way of moving him along. “Layla said she’d invited you to help, but we’ve really got this under control. I’m sorry if you made the trip for nothing. Really. But thank you. I’ll be sure to tell Delphine how eager you are to help on this case.”

  “I doubt you’ll be getting much help from Layla. She’s up in the computer room, playing on Facebook.”

  Abby didn’t believe for a moment that Layla was on Facebook, but she didn’t want to argue with Emmett. “I’ll talk to you in the morning. Anything we don’t get done tonight, you can help with tomorrow. And, yes, I’ll be sure to tell Delphine you helped.” Abby renewed her determination to finish the brief tonight so she wouldn’t have to deal with Emmett in the morning.

  Emmett left and Abby went back to work. She kept listening for Layla or anyone else. Finally, Layla came back with her arms full of ancient-looking books. Abby was seriously yawning and moaned when she saw the stack Layla held. This stuff was boring. It was late. The library was quiet. A nap would have been nearly as blissful as a big bowl of ice cream.

  “Yo, wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Layla dropped the books with a loud thwack on the table.

  “Quiet. It’s a library.”

  “And it’s pushing midnight and nobody is here except you and me and the Ghost of Christmas Past.” But Layla yawned too. “Where the hell are Victor and Emmett?”

  “Emmett came and I just couldn’t deal with him, so I sent him away. He’s such a toad.”

  Layla glared at Abby.

  “I’m tired, and you know what a pest he is.” Abby wasn’t sure why she had to defend herself to Layla, but Layla’s expression seemed to demand an explanation. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of him prattling about.”

  Layla hesitated a moment. “Oh, well, Victor’ll come soon enough.” She popped some gum, her face scrunched up like she was thinking hard. Then she shrugged. “I put bookmarks where the cases are in the books. Didn’t want to haul ass up the stairs to the copy machines.”

  Trying to fight her sleepiness, Abby opened one of the books. She had to grin.

  Layla had marked the right place in the thick book with a gum wrapper.

  “I’m going to try Victor again.” Layla stretched. “First some fresh gum.”

  Abby sighed as Layla pulled out her backpack from where Abby had covered it up, and dug around inside. She offered Abby a stick of mint gum. “Sugarfree.”

  “No, thanks.” Abby found gum somewhat disgusting.

  “Keep an eye on things, okay?” As she spoke, Layla piled some magazines back over her backpack as if to keep it hidden.

  “Yeah, I’ll be sure to keep your backpack safe from the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

  Abby laughed, more to try to wake herself up than because anything struck her as funny.

  She watched Layla walk off, blinked twice, and then caught Layla dropping her wad of gum into an umbrella stand by the elevator door.

  Oh, well, at least it wasn’t a potted plant. Abby started reading the first case. But slowly and completely against her will, her eyes began to shut.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Victor searched the main library for Layla. After satisfying himself she wasn’t there, he tried the law review access key to the library basement. The card worked like a charm and he cruised right down the stairs. He knew the scanner recorded the ID on the card, but since it would just show law review, no one would know he was in the basement after it was officially closed for the night.

  He spotted Abby right off, with her head down on her laptop, eyes closed, and making little kitten-like snores. No wonder she’d dozed off, he thought, looking at the pile of books and magazines beside the study carrel. She’d obviously been working hard that night.

  She was so cute that he just stood there, studying her. Her face rested on an opened book, its pages yellowed and contrasting with her creamy skin. He wanted to lean down and kiss her, but he knew better than to surprise her like that. Still, a slow smile crept onto his face. Just watching her sleep made him feel happy.

  He eased around to her other side to be sure her pile of books wasn’t going to trip her. As he did, the overhead light caught the shine in her hair, emphasizing its reddish color in a way that nearly hypnotized him.

  Finally, Victor shook himself out of the strange trance he’d fallen into while staring at Abby’s sleeping form. He wondered if he should wak
e her up. Then he wondered if Layla was with her, and he nosed around the carrel. He didn’t see Layla’s paisley laptop case or her backpack, just that large pile of books and magazines piled on the floor beside Abby, so he doubted Layla was in the library with Abby after all. Still he figured he’d better look around anyway.

  Leaving Abby, he searched high and low in the basement of the library, finding no one but the napping Abby. He camped outside the women’s bathroom for a bit, but drew the line at ducking inside to look. After a while, he was satisfied Layla was not in the bathroom or the basement.

  Easing back over to Abby, he found her still sleeping, her breathing deep and relaxed. Once more he debated waking her up, but she looked so peaceful. In the end, he’d decided the thing to do was just to stay near her, keeping a close and protective eye on her and her laptop. That way, he’d be there when she woke up.

  He settled into the nearest study carrel and started reading Estate and Gift Tax in a Nutshell. Immediately, he was bored. He stood up, stretched, and leaned over Abby’s carrel. She was still sleeping, and he decided once again to leave her be. But she had two bottles of green tea in the carrel. One was empty. He didn’t figure the little bit of caffeine in the other bottle would do him much good, but drinking it meant he could postpone reading more estate tax, if only for a moment. He didn’t think she’d mind if he drank it. He took the bottle and sipped, frowning at the bitter aftertaste. He walked around, finished the tea, put the bottle on his carrel so he could recycle it, and picked up the cursed estate tax book.

  He fought off the yawns and the sleep as long as he could, but something stronger than his own will power won. Inside an hour, he was fast asleep without ever turning his cell phone back on or checking his voice mail.

  Abby’s landline rings, jarring me from a perfectly peaceful catnap on top of the couch. I lift my ears, waiting to see if the answer machine picks up a message. I glance at the clock, 1:05 at night, very late for a call. And shouldn’t Layla and Abby be home by now?