by Eden Winters
Lucky didn’t say anything through dinner, waiting until the family settled down in the living room to mention, “Rett needs my help on a case. We’re meeting up tonight.”
Bo raised his brows. “What case is she working?”
Damn. Bo’s new position with the SNB made him privy to all the goings-on. Did Johnson have a current case, other than helping with training? “Don’t you know?”
“No. Walter must have given her something.”
Ah. Good. Unless Bo asked the boss. “She said if she told me, she’d have to kill me.” That sounded like a Rett answer, right?
“I could handle a workout. I’ll ride with you and put in some gym time while you’re busy.”
Fuck. “We won’t be at the office. I’m meeting her at her apartment.” God, but Lucky hated lying to Bo, but keeping his man out of the loop on this one meant plausible deniability later.
Bo slumped back onto the couch. “Oh. Well, don’t stay out too late.”
Lucky leaned over the back of the couch and kissed his man. “How could I, with such a hot guy waiting at home?”
Ty wrinkled his nose. “Eww… gross!” With every ounce of teenaged drama he could muster, he mock hollered, “Mom, tell them to stop making out in front of impressionable minors!”
Impressionable minor, Lucky’s ass.
“That’s not nice,” Charlotte scolded, not bothering to look up from her latest attempt at a hobby—needlepoint this time. Three fingers sported Band-aids. “Love is love. You will not be a homophobe…”
“Jeez, Mom. I was just kidding. Would you rather me tell them to continue so I can pick up some pointers?” The little asswipe grinned.
Lucky near choked on his need to laugh.
“That boy is too much like you,” Bo grumbled.
God help them all if Ty turned out like Lucky.
After a parting kiss, Lucky sauntered across the floor and out the door. The moment the door closed behind him, he braced a hand against the wall and released the laughter he’d barely reined in.
***
Johnson’s Jeep sat in its normal spot in the SNB parking garage. She got out and wandered over to Lucky’s car, a thermos in one hand, two cups in the other, and pocketbook slung over her shoulder. As usual on stakeout, she’d dressed casually, in jeans and tennis shoes, her shirt hidden by her puffy dark blue jacket. She’d pulled a baseball cap with no logo down over her braids.
“Damn, but I’m tired,’” she said, getting into the passenger seat.
“Good, ‘cause I got a rule. No being perky in my car,” Lucky growled. He’d rather be pretty much anywhere but cruising bad parts of town tonight.
Johnson’s weary smile faded. “Suit yourself.” A few moments of quiet ended with the sound of splashing liquid. Rett handed Lucky a cup of coffee. “Decaf, just for you, but first chance we get, this girl needs caffeine.”
Despite her claims of being tired, she practically bounced on the seat. Ah, the thrill of the hunt. Like hell would he risk the perky factor with caffeine. “Tell me where we’re going.”
“Head towards my apartment. It’s only a few blocks away.” Like he’d not been to her apartment many times.
They found a suitable spot around 8:30, on a cross street with a clear view of the apartment building in question. People actually lived there? Peeling paint, numerous broken windows. He’d have thought the place abandoned if Rett hadn’t sworn people lived there, and light showed from a few windows.
Four young wannabe thugs with shifty eyes came out the front fifteen minutes before nine, trailed by a few young men and seven young women, one heavily pregnant. She couldn’t be more than about five feet tall, and would be skin and bones without the protruding belly.
The four toughs milled around, trying to look intimidating. Cat Lucky beat them for badassery while asleep. Rett shouting, “Boo!” would likely send them running. He’d loved to have witnessed her putting them in their place when they’d cat-called her.
The bus pulled up a few minutes later. The girls, or young women, rather, shuffled forward, eyes on the ground, and one by one climbed into the bus. The downtrodden men followed, but the toughs went into the apartment complex.
Guards. And where there were guards, there was something needing guarding.
Lucky waited a few moments to follow, since Rett already knew the bus route.
When they arrived at a warehouse, a gate slid open, letting the bus inside, and then closing again behind it. Two armed guards at the gates, another two patrolling the grounds.
Eight people exited the bus, and returned lugging boxes.
“That’s new,” Johnson murmured.
And intriguing. The whole deal might be legitimate, but Lucky’s senses told him otherwise.
Like the apartment complex, the warehouse appeared deserted. Lucky waited, clock ticking away the minutes. Every now and then he spotted movement and brought binoculars up to study the guards’ passing.
At ten p.m. the gate slowly slid open. A van arrived. The driver waved to the guards and drove to the loading dock. Bits and pieces of Spanish tickled Lucky’s ear. Ah, hell, he should’ve brought Bo. But no, Bo ranked up there with the top brass now, and might object to Lucky and Rett doing a little extra-curricular snooping.
The van obscured the loading docks, but the banging inside spoke of cargo.
After roughly a half hour, the van left. Lucky followed at a safe distance, back to the apartment building. The van pulled to the rear, and the back doors opened. Two men stepped out, their furtive glances giving away ill intent.
The way they favored their right sides probably meant a gun under their shirts.
The toughs from earlier darted out the back door of the apartment complex. Each grabbed a few cartons and lugged them into the building. What he wouldn’t give to find out what the unmarked cardboard boxes contained. The van left. After a short while one of the men reappeared outside, pulling a wheeled suitcase, and got into an older model Chevy.
Lucky texted Bo. “Gonna be late. You’ll have to keep the rookies occupied tomorrow until I get there. Something’s come up.”
“Since Rett’s with you, you can’t get in too much trouble. Be careful.” Bo ended the message with a heart emoji.
Romantic sap. Lucky registered his lips curling in time to stop their upward ascent. Okay, maybe Bo wasn’t the only romantic sap. He quickly sent a heart of his own and yanked his phone away before Johnson’s leaning his way finally gave her a view of the screen.
He glowered.
She grinned. “Big, bad Lucky’s in luuuuurrrrve.”
Folks said Ty resembled Lucky, but in that moment, Lucky channeled his nephew and rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of my love life and back on the case, why don’t you?”
Johnson saluted. “Yes, sir!”
At the risk of repeating himself, he affected another eyeroll and nodded toward the Chevy. “I can’t believe you’re the only one to notice something weird going on.” Of course, most people turned a blind eye and refused to get involved, no matter how blatant the crime. Nothing subtle about these asshats. If the warehouse was going to deliver drugs to the apartment, why not send cases home with the workers?
To keep others from noticing? To keep the workers from noticing? Because the ones calling the shots had their heads up their asses?
He followed the car.
Straight to a doctor’s office. What the hell? Who’d be taking deliveries at this hour?
The back door opened.
Shit. Looked like they had themselves a case.
Chapter Eight
Lucky parked his butt in his favorite chair in front of his boss’s desk, or rather, his boss’s and Bo’s desk. If anyone ever needed to identify Lucky’s body one day, all they need do was match his carcass to his butt print in the chair.
He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. He’d stayed out damned late last night with Rett, and woke up far too early to an empty bed. His partner sat in a chair beside
Walter’s desk, tablet computer in hand, and impeccably dressed in a suit.
In contrast, Lucky looked like he’d slept in his faded blue jeans and wrinkled T-shirt. He vaguely remembered shaving at some point in the past few days, but a quick hand swipe against the side of his face put the time at a minimum of two days ago. The SNB wasn’t paying him to be pretty; if so, they’d have fired his ass long ago.
Not hard to determine which side of the desk belonged to Bo. Wood shone through the ever-present pile of papers necessary to Walter’s world, on Walter’s side.
Old school all the way, he’d never give up paper for virtual records. Ever.
“Hello, Lucky,” Walter began, hands clasped together on a desk blotter, the only bit of clear space on his side of the desk. “I hope you don’t mind Bo sitting in.”
Did he? Kinda weird Bo being here and not sitting beside him, and he might scowl at Lucky for not telling Walter about last night’s plans in advance. Oh well, better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“I followed up on a hunch.” No need to throw Johnson under the bus. Yet. “Found something worth looking into.”
Walter’s bushy eyebrows rose. Bo gave good poker face, never glancing up from his computer, but he missed a beat in his typing.
“What have you found?” Walter steepled his fingers, hands on the desk. Lucky used to consider the pose “Walter in questioning mode”. After taking formal classes, he now recognized the pose as a non-threatening interrogation tactic meant to put witnesses and suspects alike at ease.
Should he be pissed at Walter for using psychology on him? Then again, after such a long career in drug enforcement, maybe the pose came naturally.
Lucky settled more fully into his chair, stretching out his legs in front of him until the toes of his boots touched the desk with a soft thunk. “A warehouse on the edges of Atlanta that I think might be distributing illegal drugs.” He hadn’t spent most of the day looking through Georgia Board of Pharmacy records for nothing. Well, actually it was for nothing. He’d found diddly squat. “Heavily guarded, and they keep their employees under lock and key.”
“What makes you think they’re trading in pharmaceuticals?”
“We… I followed a delivery van from the warehouse, to the rundown apartment building where they keep their workers. Cardboard boxes changed hands. A few minutes later, a guy came out of the eight-story fire hazard with a suitcase, and drove straight to a doctor’s office.” Way too similar to the setup he’d recently investigated, with bikers selling a synthetic drug. He could live the rest of his life without reminders of the Corruption case.
The case that nearly cost him Bo.
“I see.” Walter stroked his smoothly shaven chin, darting a questioning gaze toward Bo and back to Lucky.
Bo placed his computer on his lap, steepled his fingers in a Walter mini-me pose, and brought the tips of his index fingers to his pursed lips.
Damn, he shouldn’t draw attention to his lips in a work setting. Lucky could all too easily picture those lips wrapped around his cock.
“What’s the layout of the warehouse security?” Bo asked.
“Four armed guards that I could see, chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Guardhouse controlling the gates.”
Bo remained quiet for so long Lucky would’ve thought him asleep if he didn’t know for a fact Bo didn’t sleep with his eyes open. “Easy enough to arrange a city inspection.”
Lucky nodded, pressure in his chest loosening. “That’s what I thought. I also want to check out the doctor’s office, but first things first.”
For long moments, Bo stayed silent, but the wheels in his brain ought to be squeaking. Finally, he said, “The same goes for the apartment complex. However, if something is going on, we don’t want to tip anyone off. They could pick up and move easily enough.” Bo stared at something above Lucky’s head. “That’s why an inspection is better than a warrant at this point.”
Walter nodded, giving Bo a fond smile. “I agree. Lucky, if proper channels don’t work, I have connections with the power company. We’ll arrange a little tour for you and Loretta.”
“Yes, sir.” Wouldn’t be the first time Lucky posed as a utility worker to gain access to a facility. He nodded to Walter, then to Bo, and retreated. “In the meantime, I’ll find out all I can about the doctor’s office.”
“I’d expect no less,” Walter said. “I want a written report on your findings thus far, as well as a draft of how you intend to conduct this investigation. Oh, and I want Loretta’s report as well.”
How had he known?
But being all-knowing was why Walter got the big bucks. Plus, he made things happen.
Not to mention the whole drug lords fearing him thing. In time, would they fear Bo too?
They would if Lucky had anything to say in the matter.
***
Two hours later found Lucky back in the Boss’s office, minus Bo. Essence of Old Spice perfumed the air, Walter’s signature scent. Instead of the frou-frou, whipped cream-laden coffee drinks his boss used to prefer, a thirty-ounce tumbler of water sat at Walter’s elbow. Probably his wife’s idea.
“You wanted to see me?”
Walter indicated Lucky’s preferred chair with a wave of a meaty hand. “Sit down, Lucky.”
Oh, crap. Experience said he’d hate what came next. “What’s up?”
“Our request to tour the warehouse was denied, and calls to the courthouse ended with a curt message that the warehouse was abandoned and condemned, and I’d be putting my agents in danger if they entered the building.”
“What the fuck?”
“I was told in no uncertain terms to back off and allow Atlanta PD to handle the situation.” If Lucky was a mouse, and Walter a hawk, he’d freeze under the boss’s intense glare.
“While I’d never put one of my agents in danger, I have friends in the Atlanta police.”
Of course, Walter did. He had friends everywhere. And he wasn’t afraid to call in favors, when necessary. “And?”
“And, they’ve not been contacted about any goings-on at a warehouse in that area.” Walter leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his smaller-than-last-year belly. “Unfortunately, since my tip off, we’re being watched, and I don’t dare call in the power company. Yet. Do what you do. You must make sure no one sees you, and for God’s sake, take Loretta. Someone at City Hall knows something. That means whatever is happening at the warehouse might have deep roots.”
Do what you do. “Bo’s not here, so I take it you don’t want him to know about this.”
“True. When he assumes my role, you’ll have to move completely out from under his jurisdiction. Until that time, I’ll depend on you to do what’s necessary.” Walter steepled his fingers—a familiar gesture. “Don’t misunderstand. I respect his integrity and fairness to the team; however, your personal relationship might cloud his judgement. In time, he’ll learn greater impartiality, but for now, I’m still in charge. It will be easier for you both this way. I say again, do what you do.”
“I will.”
“But not tonight. You’re dead on your feet. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”
“I don’t need—”
Walter pinned Lucky with a no-nonsense gaze over the top of his bifocals—a gaze known to make hardened criminals spill their darkest secrets. “That’s an order. I won’t have you out on the streets not at your best. Take your time. Prepare your case.”
No point in arguing once the boss spoke. “Yessir.”
“And I don’t want you going alone. I mean it. Take Loretta with you.”
“As if she’d let me go alone,” Lucky muttered under his breath. To Walter, he said, “When I go in, I’m kicking ass and taking names.”
The edges of Walter’s mouth lifted. “I know you will. And Lucky?”
“Yessir?”
“Be careful.”
“Ain’t I always?” Lucky flashed a grin.
Walter didn’t answer with words.
His scowl spoke louder than a scream.
Chapter Nine
Staying home tonight. Bad idea, with a warehouse on the outskirts of Atlanta calling Lucky to explore. Back and forth he paced through the house. He’d even fixed the leaky faucet in the guest bathroom.
Charlotte ignored him, laptop on her lap while she studied for an upcoming test for her online classes. Bo called, saying he’d be late. Moose lay on the floor by Charlotte’s side. Occasionally she reached down and idly scratched an ear.
“Moose. Wanna go for a walk?” Maybe running might work off some nervous energy.
Moose blinked twice, then dropped his head to the floor.
That’d be a no. Cat Lucky lay curled on the back of the couch, also close to Charlotte. Traitorous beasts.
The door to Ty’s room wasn’t completely closed. Maybe he’d be up to talking. Lucky stepped closer. “Got a minute?”
Ty shot a panicked look at the door, threw something into his backpack, and plopped back down on his belly on the bed, books stretched out in front of him and laptop a few inches away.
Lucky stood in the doorway. In normal circumstances, Ty would be facing him to find out what Lucky wanted. Turning away and trying to pretend he hadn’t just stashed something he didn’t want Lucky to see only served to point out the wrongness of the situation.
Lucky wouldn’t pry. If he remembered nothing else about his teenage years, he recalled being defensive as hell. Okay, maybe he’d never grown out of his suspicious stage. In his line of work, not trusting folks had saved his life on more than one occasion.
“What are you studying?”
“Algebra. I’ve got a test on Monday, and my teacher is pretty tough.” Ty kept his back turned. He might as well spray-paint a sign on the wall: “Guilty of something!”
But what? Then again, the kid was sixteen. Lucky might have interrupted something that caused Ty to hide a porn mag. Maybe he should ask Bo about the two of them sitting the kid down and explaining a few hard facts. Ty seemed more prone to listen to Bo than to Lucky. “How’s school going?”
“Fine.”