by Eden Winters
Those were some big-assed packages too. The records explained the panel vans picking up for nursing homes and hospice facilities, but not the big-assed FedEx shipments.
Back in the store he went. Pretending to browse got old, but no one seemed suspicious of a man with a bandaged hand. With the doors to the back closed, he couldn’t see the compounding operation—which should have taken place in a sterile environment, but he could see the pharmacy staff loading boxes.
He couldn’t be everywhere at once. God, how he hated making this call, but he needed someone with a long reach, since he was still on leave.
Bo picked up on the first ring. “Lucky, is everything okay?”
“Don’t get mad.”
Silence, then, “Every time you tell me not to get mad you say something that would try the patience of a saint. What happened?”
“I need someone to check out packages at the local FedEx hub from Gentry’s Pharmacy.”
“What? Why?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“Lucky, you’re not sitting at home with your feet up, are you?”
“Hey, I had to get a script filled.” Creative use of the truth, but still.
“Ten miles out of the way?”
“You got something against supporting small businesses?”
More silence, then, “Walter trusts your gut feelings, and so do I. I’ll take care of it. Now, get your ass home and stay there. Promise.”
“I promise.” Lucky managed to keep his promise.
This time.
***
The wall was now covered with poster paper bearing both Bo and Lucky’s scrawl. Bo rested his cheek against the top of Lucky’s head where they stood, studying their combined efforts. “You know what this means, right?”
“Grandma’s going to jail?” Lucky wrapped his arm around Bo’s waist and leaned into his warmth.
“And a whole lot of other people. What a fucked-up situation. Everyone using pharmaceuticals for their own gain. Gambling, grade tampering, mail order pill mill. Was everyone in Atlanta involved in this damned case?”
The posters also showed Montgomery, Alabama; Jackson, Mississippi, and towns as far away as Texas.
And totally out of their hands.
Except…
“Lucky?”
“Yeah?”
“Since you’ve done all this work, tied up so many lose ends, I’ve convinced the DEA to use you as a consultant.”
“You what?”
“Isn’t that what you always wanted, to keep some control of your cases once they went national?
“Yes, but…”
“But nothing. You’re wasted in the field.” Bo tapped Lucky’s temple with a fingertip. “All that knowledge you’ve built up over the years needs to be shared. Once you’re cleared to go back to work, you’ll be consulting on this case, and a few others.”
“They aren’t close to closing the case?” What the fuck?
“No, Lucky, it’s too big, huge even. I hate to say it, but it might be years before anyone comes close to solving this one.”
“Not good enough.” Lucky couldn’t give up. Not now. Too many people needed to pay for their crimes.
“They’ll come to justice, every last one of them, and you and I will be there, helping. Just not today.” Bo brushed his lips over Lucky’s temple.
Yolanda, the baby, so many other victims. Students. Fuck.
Lucky flumped down onto the couch, Bo beside him.
Bo patted his thigh. “We’ve won a few battles, but the war rages on.”
Yes, the war did, on the streets of Atlanta and everywhere. Lucky might be beaten up, dragged through the mud, and a little worse for wear, but by God, he was an SNB agent, and eventually, he’d round up all involved and they’d face justice.
Just not today.
Damn it.
Chapter Forty
Salters stopped Lucky on his way to the elevator. “Talk to your sister lately? You could always invite me to dinner.” He waggled his brows.
So much for thinking he’d gotten over his Charlotte obsession.
Lucky summoned every bit of his asshole reputation into his scowl. “Don’t even think about it.”
Asswipe.
The drive home proved uneventful, though sitting in a conference room wore him the hell out. Biggest case of his career, and growing with each day.
At least consulting kept him off the streets and kept Bo happy. But one day? Who knew?
Charlotte sat at the kitchen table, staring down at her hands, an unreadable expression on her face.
Lucky rushed to her side and took the next chair. “Charlotte? Did something happen? Is it Mom or Dad? Ty?”
She jumped, hissing, “I have to go!” into her phone. Who the hell had she been talking to?
She opened her hands, revealing a little plastic device.
What? He stared until the shape made sense. Oh. Oh! In the center, a small window showed a plus sign.
Charlotte let out a sob. “I’m sorry, Lucky. I truly didn’t know or I’d have said. I know this might be too much to take in, given that you and Bo already have a baby…”
Oh, God. Charlotte pregnant? Not one kid, but two?
Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Lucky ran his hands through his hair. Spit up, diapers, midnight feedings, tantrums.
Times two.
He rose and paced back and forth through the kitchen and breakfast area. Why couldn’t he fucking breathe?
Oh. Right. Two little people depending on him.
Two tiny bodies, one in Bo’s lap, one in Lucky’s as they watched TV. Or what if the kids nodded off, like Todd and Ty used to, adorable faces slack from sleep? Siblings, born close together, who might grow up to be best friends.
Like Lucky and Charlotte. He returned to his chair, pulled her into a hug, and whispered, “Thank you,” into her hair. If he held her closely enough, she might not notice the happy tears in his eyes.
Charlotte. Pregnant with a little Bo.
“I’ll stay here as long as y’all need me, help with the kids, I’ll…”
He was going to be a father, twice over.
What would Bo think?
Bo. Who’d soon bring home the child he claimed as his son. Time enough to tell him later. Right now, Lucky’s sister needed him. “Shh… It’s okay. In fact, it’s damned good news. I’m so happy. Thank you so, so much. You’ll never know.”
He lifted his sister’s tear-stained face. “This doesn’t mess up anything. You made it more perfect. Besides, it’s not you. We’re all in this. If you tell anybody I said this I’ll deny it with my dying breath, but you’ve made me and Bo happy.”
“He”—sniff— “doesn’t even know.”
“Trust me. He’ll be just as happy as me. Yeah, we’re bringing home a little boy, and in…” He pulled back and pursed his lips. “How long?”
Charlotte dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Well, I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but I’m guessing about eight months.”
Wow. “In eight-months he’ll have a little brother or sister. We’ll have a full house.”
“You’ll need the spare room. I’ll… I’ll have to move.”
What? “No! Have you seen how much space we have? We haven’t gotten past the planning stages yet, but I fully intend to build you an apartment in the garage.” An idea hit, but he’d have to include Bo in any major decision. “Have you told Ty yet?”
Charlotte blew her nose with her soggy tissue. “No. Not yet. He knows I was trying to get pregnant. I don’t know how he’ll react now that shit just got real.”
“Why don’t you take him out for pizza or something. Have a little talk. In the meantime, I’ll break the news to Bo.”
Only, what was he going to say? He sat in the kitchen for a long time after Charlotte left to pick Ty up from school. Bo would be thrilled, wouldn’t he?
Of course, he would. He was Bo, after all.
Johnson’s wonder brews struck again. He’d never hear th
e end of her crowing.
Lucky tried to keep his footsteps in check on the way to his and Bo’s room, and straight through to the nursery, now ready and waiting for its new occupant.
Holy fuck, what a room. He’d avoided the place since Victor and Nestor shoved their wealth into Lucky’s life. Crib, changing table, hamper, some kind of thing to put diapers in, sheets, baby towels… He opened the dresser. Clothes. Lots and lots of clothes, all in shades of blue, green, and yellow.
A tiny wooden rocking horse with a fluffy golden mane smiled up at him from a spot by the window, next to a rocking chair in the same rich mahogany as the rest of the furniture. He did a three-sixty in the middle of the room. If they moved the dresser over, they’d have room for another crib, right… there.
Not one child, but two. Instant family. He grinned so hard his face hurt.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
First to break the news to Bo.
***
Lucky drummed the fingers of one hand against the tabletop. Yow! Damn it! Heal, motherfucker, heal! He recovered enough to tug at his uncomfortable collar with the other hand. God, but he hated dressing up. For such a special occasion, he’d make an exception.
Even one-handed.
He checked his phone for the umpteenth time. No messages from Bo, but about one thousand smiling emotis from Johnson. Yep, he’d never hear the end of her gloating. “Told you that shit worked!”
Johnson’s thermos ought to have a warning label.
Of course. Charlotte told her.
He planned to retaliate by telling everyone who’d listen that Rett knocked up his sister.
Five more minutes passed. Surely he’d given Bo the right address. Yes, his text contained the right time and place. “Luigi’s at seven.” His cellphone showed six forty-five. Still no Bo.
How was Bo to know Lucky’s nerves put him on edge, prompting him to arrive a half-hour early? To fill in the time, he practiced what to say. “Bo, I’ve got some great news!” Nope, too lame. Maybe he should ease the tension with a joke. “Man, you are not gonna believe this…”
He’d threatened Rett with bodily harm if she breathed a word to Bo before Lucky got the chance. Rett and Charlotte’s friendship meant no more secrets for Lucky.
The agitated waiter stopped by again. “Sir, are you sure I couldn’t interest you in an appetizer or drink?”
Yeah, a good stiff shot of whiskey. But no, better to keep a clear head, and sucking down a glass of sweet tea wouldn’t get him into Bo’s good graces. “What you got that’s caffeine free, and no alcohol? Oh, and no sugar.”
The waiter raised a mocking eyebrow. “Water?”
Lucky lifted the glass he’d refilled twice since arriving. “Got it covered. He’ll be here in a few minutes, I promise.” He perused the crowded dining room. Oh. The restaurant wanted the table.
Bo swept through the door, glancing right and left. His dark-eyed gaze fell on Lucky. He smiled and wove his way through the tables back to Lucky.
Lucky gave the waiter a triumphant grin. “Told ya. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go fetch another water?” Bo might make him apologize if he heard, but the way the waiter scowled made up for any chastising Bo could offer.
Bo stopped smiling and ran an exaggerated appraisal up and down Lucky’s body. “Damn, but you clean up nice. What’s the occasion?”
Lucky stared up at Bo’s hopeful face and words dried up on his tongue. He’d lost his suit coat and tie, white button-down rolled up to the elbows and the top two buttons undone, showing a teasing peek of dark chest hair.
Damn, what a gorgeous man. And all Lucky’s.
“Lucky?” Bo prompted, taking a seat across the table.
The waiter returned, at the worst possible moment. Lucky fought a snarl, but earning a swat on the nose from Bo might ruin the mood.
“Could you give us a moment?” Bo asked, with an ice-melting drawl.
The moment the waiter left Bo reached across the table and clasped Lucky’s hand “What is it? You look like you’re about to pass out. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your consulting. You haven’t changed your mind about Andro, have you?”
“No! Of course not!” Words had never been Lucky’s friends, neither had his non-existent brain-to-mouth filter. He opened his mouth and out fell, “Charlotte’s pregnant.”
Bo released Lucky’s hands and leaned back in his chair. “She’s what?”
Lucky recovered a few of his senses. “She’s pregnant. About a month.”
With a carefully guarded expression, Bo ventured, “She’s sure.”
Lucky nodded. “Yeah. Showed me one of those stick thingies and everything.”
“I see.” Bo rubbed his chin. “And how do you feel about that? I mean, we’ll already have Alejandro.”
What? Bo wasn’t doing happy dances? Lucky’s heart sank to his stomach, shoving out any appetite he’d had for the fine dinner he’d spend way too much on. Should he lie? What did Bo want him to say? Bo also urged him to be honest. “We have two laps, one for each kid.”
A twitch started at the edge of Bo’s lips, spreading across his face in a possum-eating-briars grin. “Really? You’re okay with this?”
Was he ever! “Oh, hell yeah.”
If possible, Bo grinned wider. The waiter returned with an order pad. “Oh, man. We’re going to be fathers!” Bo reached across the table and took Lucky’s hand.
The waiter stopped mid-motion, pen held to the order pad. He sniffed loudly and turned on his heel.
A moment later a smiling young woman took his place. “Hi. Are you two ready to order?”
“What happened to…” Lucky cut his gaze back to where the waiter disappeared.
Their new server flapped her hand. “His mind’s so narrow it cuts off the blood flow from time to time.”
Ah, a homophobic bastard. Lucky’d give the young woman her best tip of the month and hope she rubbed the asswipe’s nose in it.
***
Bo interrupted eating his spinach lasagna every few minutes to grin. “I can’t believe it! What are you hoping for, a boy or a girl?”
Two boys, yelling and wrestling in the living room floor. Then again, Charlotte kicked his ass a few times as young ‘uns.
“Don’t matter to me.” As long as the kid looked like Bo.
At the end of their meal, Lucky asked their server, “Check, please.”
Her grin matched Bo’s. “It’s on the house. My boss overheard you talking about being dads, and saw the narrow-minded bigot storm out. He’s unemployed now, by the way.” Judging by her twinkling eyes, she wouldn’t miss him. “Luigi’s is a no-hate zone.” She lowered her voice. “Congratulations.”
As Bo and Lucky stood, so did everyone at the tables around them.
Their server met them at the door, two to-go trays in hand. “The couple at the next table treated you to dessert.”
It took him a moment to register the applause. They ambled out into the night to a chorus of “Congratulations!” from their fellow diners and the staff, who’d lined up by the cash register.
What the fuck? Were these people for real? Where was the hissing and spitting? The hellfire and brimstone sermons?
The tightness in Lucky’s chest might have been indigestion. Maybe.
An entire restaurant full of strangers thought he had this.
Maybe he did.
Chapter Forty-One
Lucky showered and dressed more carefully than usual, nerves jangling even more than when telling Bo about Charlotte’s news. He’d certainly never been this nervous to meet a guy, except for maybe Bo. Bo drove, leaving Lucky time to worry.
“Stop!” Bo snapped.
Lucky gave a sheepish shrug and dropped his hand back into his lap. He hadn’t been about to chew his fingernail. Nope, not at all.
Okay, maybe.
“You’re gonna do just fine.” Bo reached over and rested a hand on his knee. “This isn’t your first rodeo.”
&n
bsp; No, but he hadn’t been in this particular saddle in a long, long time.
Bo guided him from the parking lot with a hand on his lower back, nodding and speaking to passersby. Lucky couldn’t spare the effort to snarl at their overly-perky greetings.
Neither said anything on the way up the elevator, and Bo gave an encouraging smile while helping Lucky to gown.
At last Lucky approached the rocking chair of doom. There might have been a smiling nurse involved somewhere, but all Lucky saw was a chair and a bassinet.
He sat, heart pounding double-time. Then a small, wrapped bundle grew closer and closer. Lucky assumed the familiar pose he remembered from long ago, and suddenly he held a bundled Alejandro Schollenberger.
For the very first time. Cables led from beneath the blanket to the nearby heart monitor, and the beeps and blips he’d once taken for granted as hospital background noise assumed whole new meaning.
Alejandro’s heart, weak as it might be, still thrummed to a steady beat.
Unfocused eyes stared up, and a tiny hand peeked above the blanket. Lucky extended a finger. Any remaining pain in his injured hand faded to nothing as tiny little digits encircled his index finger.
The baby focused on him. Was that a smile?
The miniscule face screwed up, revealing toothless gums, and a wail far too large to come from such a small boy split the quiet.
“Here,” Bo said, handing Lucky a bottle and resting his now empty hand on Lucky’s shoulder.
Once presented with the nipple, Andro got with the program, letting out a slight whimper as he latched on.
Andro. Bo’s child. Walter’s powerful friends pulled all the right strings to make things official. One day, Lucky would legally become the child’s other father.
Legal meant nothing. Heart aching with fullness, he rocked slowly back and forth while the baby fed. Would Bo hear him if he hummed softly?
“You’re doing fine,” a female voice said from the background. Oh, right, the nurse.
In that moment, nothing mattered but the child in his arms and the man at his back. The family he and Bo built.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Bo bent down and murmured into Lucky’s ear, stroking a finger across Andro’s cheek.