Life Liberty and the Pursuit of a Honeybun Read online

  Afric frowned, glancing at Pleasance with a worried frown. “Thanks for the sensitive medical appraisal, bro.”

  Godric grinned. “She’ll be fine.” He nodded to a spot behind Alfric’s seat. “Strapped to the floor there. Give her…” He took another look at Pleasance. “Ah hell, take the throttle and I’ll give her a shot of something. A pill isn’t gonna cut it.”

  The huge kitchen was filled with people. It looked like a giant family reunion. Unfortunately though, it appeared to be only the immediate Honeybun family.

  Pleasance sat in a chair at the extremely long wooden table in the center of the kitchen. Daddy Bob Honeybun stood next to her, peering at her when he thought she wasn’t looking as if he’d never seen a black woman with blue eyes before. Oh yeah, he probably hadn’t.

  Or maybe he was concerned about the slightly dazed look in the aforementioned blue eyes. She still felt a bit woozy from whatever Godric had given her to calm her down on the plane.

  She licked her dry lips.

  Whatever he’d given her, she figured, if she was gonna keep hanging around the Honeybuns she might need a whole case of the stuff.

  Alfric sat in the chair next to her, his arm thrown casually over the chair back. Momma Honeybun, Wanda, was busily compiling a massive feast of cold cuts and stuff to feed her eight…very large…sons.

  Pleasance’s eyes kept going crossed as she took in the room’s yummy occupants. There were just so many of them. And they were all so big—so imposing—so edible.

  Feeling out of place and uncomfortable, she looked down and started to sketch on the back of a napkin with a chewed looking pencil she’d found on the table. Mrs. Honeybun’s distinctive face and curly hair quickly formed on the soft surface.

  As she sketched she tried to focus on the conversations swirling around her.

  The one named Percy was speaking. “Alf, this is not something the family can take on by ourselves. If what you’re telling us is true, this is terrorist sh….”

  A feminine throat cleared across the room and Percy looked embarrassed, “…stuff. These people slice heads off over minor disagreements. These are scary people.”

  A tall, elegant looking young man sitting across from Pleasance chuckled, shaking his tousled red head. “The guy’s French. How scary can he be?”

  They all laughed. Even Pleasance, having spent many hours with Jon-Luc Raia over the last year, had to chuckle. The only thing she’d ever known him to terrorize was her fashion sense.

  Alfric shook his head. “We don’t have a choice, Percy. My agency has cut me loose. Raia’s men aren’t going to stop. They want me dead because I keep getting in their way. Besides…” He glanced at Pleasance. “I have something they don’t want me to have.”

  An array of red and reddish-blond eyebrows lifted and everyone worked really hard not to look at Pleasance.

  She noticed.

  Crossing her arms over her chest she frowned. “Hey! I have nothing to do with any terrorism. I’m just an artist. I don’t know why Jon-Luc’s coming after me.” She frowned, favoring each of them in turn with a displeased look.

  Shocked silence filled the room. Alfric leaned close, “An artist? What kind of artist?”

  She shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. Please don’t make me say…please don’t make me say…

  Alfric frowned, “Pleasance?”

  She sighed, “Male nudes, mostly.” She spoke so softly Alfric had to lean closer to hear.

  “What did you say?”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. Turning to glare at him. “I paint nude male models!”

  A delicate bark of feminine laughter came from the kitchen area and was quickly masked behind throat clearing noises.

  Nine pairs of male eyes drilled Pleasance.

  Finally one of them, Pleasance thought it was the youngest brother, Heathcliffe, said, “Cool!”

  She smiled at him. “You’d make a great model.”

  More throat clearing from the kitchen. “Food’s on!” Wanda Honeybun announced. As the boys swarmed the counter where she’d laid out the food, Mama Honeybun gave Pleasance a look.

  It was definitely a warning look.

  Pleasance bit her lip and looked at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. So much for making friends with mama bear. She looked up a moment later as a plate was set in front of her. Alfric grinned down at her. “I thought you might be reluctant to enter the fray over there.” He jerked his head to indicate the swirling, snapping mass of Honeybun men around the food. “Many a finger has been lost around the Honeybun dinner table. You need to be fast and fearless. I figure you need to work up to it.”

  She gave him a smile that nearly melted his knees. “Thanks. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  Godric, holding a plate mounded high with food, appeared at the table and slapped Alfric on the shoulder. “He’s just the perfect gentleman isn’t he? In fact, it can be annoying sometimes how perfect Alfric seems.

  Percy nodded, sliding into a chair at the table with his own mountain of food on a plate. “Very annoying.”

  “He hasn’t always been so perfect,” added Godric.

  One of the other brothers, whose name was lost in the fog of her sedative, chimed in, “Yeah, remember that time he painted old Mrs. Whithers’ rose bushes?”

  Alfric punched his brother on the arm and the men all laughed. “I was ten, Warwicke!”

  Pleasance smiled. “Why would you paint a rose bush? Was it some kind of prank?”

  The Honeybun brothers all laughed. Godric shook his head. “He wishes it was that respectable of an excuse.”

  Alfric just shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his handsome face.

  “Tell me,” Pleasance instructed Godric, a gleam in her eye.

  “He used to take painting jobs in the neighborhood…” Godric began.

  “He was very busy. All the old ladies loved him,” Warwicke added.

  “He even went out and bought a sprayer to make his jobs easier,” Mama Honeybun added, making them all chuckle and jostle Alfric affectionately.

  “That was the genesis of the problem,” said Clovis, who Pleasance had met first when they’d arrived. She found him a bit intimidating. Alfric had told her that Clovis was a Marine Drill Instructor. “He LOVED that sprayer,” Clovis said with a meaningful lift of his reddish-blond eyebrows, “I mean he was obsessed.”

  “He’d spray anything that didn’t run away from him,” added the brother Pleasance knew as Alastair.

  Alfric glared at his brothers. “That’s not true. It was pure business. Speed meant money.”

  Papa Honeybun snorted. “Speed meant greed you mean. I’ve never seen him work so hard as he did that summer. He barely slowed down enough to eat.”

  Alfric shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I needed to make a hundred dollars in only a couple of months. I wanted to go to spy camp in August.”

  Pleasance suddenly felt sorry for Alfric and gave him a smile. “Working hard to get something you wanted…that’s pretty admirable in a ten year old, I’d say.”

  Alfric grinned back at her. “Thanks Pleasance. I’m glad somebody understands.”

  “But we digress,” added Godric, slapping Alfric on the back and then dropping his arm around his brother’s shoulders. Alfric shrugged off his brother’s arm but his eyes sparkled as he glanced at Pleasance. “I can see I’d better tell this story myself or they’re gonna butcher it for comedic value.”

  “Awe come on, bro. Don’t take the comedy out of it, that’s the fun part,” said Clovis.

  Alfric ignored him. “That summer I had taken on too many jobs. That’s why I got the sprayer…”

  “Uh huh,” said Alastair.

  “…I figured I could paint the jobs in half the time. So, five jobs into the summer, I finally get to Mrs. Whithers’ house, about a week behind schedule. She was so peeved at me for being late she didn’t even give me any cookies before I got started.”

  The brothers all groaned. “Remember t
hose chocolate chippers she used to bake?”

  “All warm and melty in your mouth?”

  “There was something different about them…I don’t know what but they were better than any other cookies I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Sour cream,” Mrs. Honeybun contributed. They all looked at her. She shrugged. “She added sour cream to the dough. She didn’t think I knew that but…”

  “Anyway!” Alfric continued, “I filled my sprayer and started spraying the fence around her backyard. While I was spraying, Mr. Woods stopped by and started yelling at me because I was late doing Stinky’s playhouse…”

  Pleasance couldn’t let that one slide by. “Stinky? He named his kid Stinky?”

  They all laughed. “Nah, the Woods didn’t have kids. Stinky was their dog. They adored him and spoiled him rotten,” the brother called Edric, who apparently was a writer, told her.

  “So they named it Stinky?” Pleasance’s nose wrinkled with distaste.

  Percy laughed. “No, we called him that, cause he always had gas. His real name was Bromley.”

  “A fine old English name,” said Mrs. Honeybun.

  “Good thing you didn’t have any more sons, Dad,” Percy said, chuckling. “We don’t have any stupid names in the B category.”

  The Honeybun parents shared a tender smile that made Pleasance feel a bit jealous.

  Alfric sighed. “Well, the outcome was that I had to promise Mr. Woods I’d do Stinky’s playhouse the next day.”

  “Which meant he had to finish Mrs. Whither’s fence in one day,” Godric contributed.

  “A formidable task,” Warwicke added, nodding his head.

  “So I had to move fast,” Alfric said, grinning.

  “And move fast you did.” Said Mr. Honeybun, shaking his graying red head.

  “I was moving along pretty good. By noon I had over half the fence done. Then the sprayer got gummed up…”

  “He came running home all red faced and sweaty…” contributed Percy.

  “Waving the sprayer over his head and sobbing like a girl,” added Clovis.

  “I did not!” Alfric glared at them.

  Pleasance lowered her head and rolled her lips to hide a smile.

  Alfric fixed her with a suspicious look and continued. “Anyway! Dad helped me get it ungummed but it took us at least an hour. And I had baseball that afternoon so I only had a couple of hours to finish the fence.”

  “So when he got to the part where the rose bushes were…” said Edric.

  “He didn’t even slow down…” said Warwicke.

  “He just pai….” Clovis broke down laughing.

  Edric helped him out, “He just painted right over them, thinking it would be faster and Mrs. Whithers wouldn’t even notice.”

  “They just looked like giant pricker bushes to me, how the hell was I supposed to know? I was ten for god’s sakes!”

  Mrs. Honeybun sat down at the table, her pretty blue eyes shining with laughter as she looked up at Alfric. “You could hear the shrieking for miles when Mrs. Whithers found those bushes that night.”

  They all burst into renewed laughter. Pleasance couldn’t help joining in.

  After a few moments, Alastair wiped tears from his eyes and turned to Pleasance. “You see, Mrs. Whithers was fairly famous for her designer roses.”

  “All of her roses had been specially bred…” added Clovis.

  Edric nodded. “They were resistant.”

  Pleasance cocked her head. “Resistant?”

  Edric nodded again. “To everything. Bugs, rain rot, mold, even frost.”

  “Those roses were so biologically superior they nearly fed and watered themselves,” said Mr. Honeybun.

  “But they weren’t resistant to paint!” Percy added. That set them all off again.

  When they’d stopped laughing Mrs. Honeybun told Pleasance. “Mrs. Whithers had been on the verge of presenting the roses to the AARS.” When Pleasance just shook her head, Wanda Honeybun clarified. “All-America Rose Selections. They test and judge roses and select only the best ones. Getting the AARS seal of approval on one of her roses was a lifelong dream of Mrs. Whithers’,” Wanda sighed, shaking her curly blond head at her son.

  Alfric shrugged. “How the hell would I know? I was ten years old!”

  “Alfric had to do odd jobs around the Whithers’ house for a full year to make up for that one,” Bob Honeybun added, chuckling softly.

  “And no more cookies,” Alfric groused.

  Pleasance laughed. “Well it’s good to know you aren’t perfect,” she chided him.

  Alfric fixed his intense blue gaze on her and suddenly all awareness of the other people in the room slid away. She felt blood rushing to her face, and other places, as he said, “No. I’m not perfect. But I’m very close.”

  Chapter Eight

  Pleasance spun the cold glass of wine between her fingers and looked around the crowded bar. She took note of all the happy, carefree faces and suddenly wished she had that same carefree feeling back in her life.

  She turned to Alfric and took note of the intense look in his eyes as he scanned the bar with a decidedly different purpose than she’d had when she’d looked around. She knew he was searching for any sign of Raia’s men.

  Pleasance sighed and sipped from her glass. Suddenly, Alfric stood up and raised his hand, looking toward the entrance to the bar. A moment later Alastair, his hand possessively resting on the back of a dark haired beauty as he approached, Percy, Edric, and Godric could be seen working their way through the mass of humanity between them and the door.

  Alf had explained that Warwicke and Heathcliffe couldn’t get out of their plans for the night. Warwicke apparently had to talk to someone about a car and Heathcliffe was giving a dance lesson.

  Pleasance couldn’t help admiring the scenery as the four tall, well put together men strode confidently through the crowd, slapping a palm here and accepting a feminine touch or a not too subtle attempt at seduction there.

  Alfric shook each of his brothers’ hands, as if they hadn’t just seen each other an hour earlier at the Honeybun hub. He leaned close to Percy so he’d be heard over the din in the bar. “Where’s Brita?” Alfric looked toward the door, “And Clovis?”

  Percy grimaced. “Brita wouldn’t ride with me. She should be just behind us.”

  Alfric chuckled and shook his head, patting his older brother on the back in brotherly commiseration.

  Alastair said, “Clovis had to leave. He’s special escort to Uncle Brick this week.” He looked at Pleasance. “Our Uncle Brick’s in the government.”

  She nodded.

  “They’re heading to Dubai,” Godric added.

  Alastair leaned toward Pleasance. “This is my fiancé, Angie.” He smiled at the pretty brunette with the heart shaped face. “Honey, this is Pleasance.”

  Angie gave Pleasance a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Pleasance.” She slid into a chair Alastair borrowed from a nearby table and rested her elbows on the table. “I’m glad to see another female face at the table believe me!” Angie said with a wide grin.

  Pleasance laughed and leaned close, lowering her voice so that only Angie could hear. “I can see what a hardship it would be always being surrounded by eight, heart-stoppingly hunky men.”

  Angie laughed too. “Okay, you got me. It hasn’t been that awful. But there are just some things only a woman understands.” She reached over and patted Pleasance’s hand and Pleasance felt an immediate affinity with the pretty brunette.

  “Here’s Brita,” an impossibly deep voice informed the table. Godric nodded toward the door, where a tall, attractive woman with light brown hair, cut in a short and choppy style, stood looking around. She saw Percy waving and strode purposely through the crowd toward them. Something about the fierce confidence in the statuesque beauty’s manner made Pleasance think cop.

  She was right.

  Brita reached the table, ignoring the chair Percy pulled over for her, and looked direc
tly at Pleasance, extending her hand in a professional manner. “Detective Brita Muldane. You must be Pleasance Roberts.”

  It wasn’t really a question but Pleasance nodded anyway, taking Brita’s outstretched hand. “Pleasure, Detective,” Pleasance murmured.

  Brita sat down between Edric and Godric and looked at Alfric. “Okay Alf. Let’s hear it.”

  Pleasance glanced at Percy and saw a quick flash of pain in his dark blue eyes. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened to make Detective Muldane so angry at a man who obviously loved her. She determined to quiz Angie about it later.

  The waitress appeared to take their order and Alfric waited until she’d left again to start explaining their situation. He deliberately avoided Pleasance’s gaze as he described the evening of Raia’s party, where everything had started. He told them that he and his men had been watching Raia, waiting for him to connect to someone who was instrumental to the man’s terrorist plot. But no one had shown up.

  And then he’d seen Raia hand her something.

  “So when Pleasance ran I thought she was Raia’s connection.”

  Finally, he looked over and saw what looked for all the world like genuine shock on her pretty face. “So tell me, Pleasance. Why did you run away from me?”

  Her startling blue eyes had an edge of panic in them. She shook her head. After a moment, during which tears filled her eyes, Pleasance looked up, directly into his eyes. “Raia told me you were stalking him, trying to prove he was a terrorist just because his father was from the Middle East. He said you hated Arabs.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Everyone turned to Angie and she flushed. “Well it is.”

  Pleasance nodded. “I agree…now that I know Alfric…” she slid a meaningful look around the table, “and his family. But I didn’t know him then, and Jon-Luc seemed so earnest, so sure of what he was saying.”

  “Go on,” Brita urged, her dark gold eyes intense and interested.

  Pleasance sighed. “He told me Alfric worked for the government and would take me in for questioning just because I knew Jon-Luc. Try to get me to talk.” She looked up and fear swam in her pretty eyes. “He mentioned the word Rendition and I panicked.”