Reunion: Diversion Six

by Eden Winters

  “Do not.”

  “Do too.” Bo exaggerated a nod.

  “Do not.”

  “What ‘cha doin’?” Bo craned his neck for a better view of the laptop. “And you do too.”

  Lucky let him win round one. Especially if it meant help with the nosy-assed questions. “Filling out a form for the doctor. What’s en… encept… enceptalikus?”

  “Encephalitis?

  Lucky squinted at the page. “Close enough. What’s that?”

  “Swelling of the brain due to viral infection.”

  Hey, Bo hadn’t sounded like a textbook in a few days. Lucky must be losing his mind if he missed Bo’s quoting. “Chigger disease?”

  “Chagas disease.”

  “Do I have those?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  Good enough for Lucky. He scrolled down the page, clicking boxes. Too bad this wasn’t high school. Then he’d make patterns on the paper by filling in the right bubbles and hope for the best. His teachers never commented on the dick picture he’d turned in once—and he’d passed!

  “Need help?”

  One of the many things to love about having a partner. “Sure.” Lucky slid his laptop over to give Bo a better look at the screen, and hopefully make him say, “I got this. You go take a nap.”

  “No to number seventeen, no to twenty.” Bo stroked a finger over the display. “Nope, nope, nope.”

  “How do you know?” Especially when Lucky didn’t.

  “The same way you know stuff about me. I hacked your files.”

  “You didn’t.” Mr. Honest hacking files? Might give Lucky a stiffie.

  “No, I didn’t. But those diseases don’t exist in the USA, and you’ve never been to the UK or Central America.”

  Oh. For a moment there… Lucky squirmed and adjusted his interested cock. He’d still dream. Agent and the computer hacker would add a nice touch to their role playing. If and when he ever got to fuck again without condoms.

  He used to insist on gloving for the loving. Now he’d give his left nut to go back in time, find the sonofabitches who invented the damned things, and kick the living shit out of them.

  Bo kissed the side of Lucky’s neck. “How much more you got to do?”

  “Four more pages.” Four more pages of hunt and peck typing. “I might be finished this time tomorrow.”

  Bo hip-bumped him. “Go on, I got this.”

  Hallelujah.

  ***

  Lucky stared at his latest e-mail. Surgery, May 15. Wow, they didn’t dick around, did they?

  He put his signature on Johnson’s report, the last paperwork he’d file for a while.

  “Did you know you get a furrow between your eyebrows the size of the Grand Canyon when you think too hard?” Johnson placed a steaming coffee cup on Lucky’s desk and sipped her own brew while scowling at the half-dozen empty and semi-empty cups littering the surface. “You really should throw those away, you know.”

  “What do you want?” He gave her his best evil eye.

  She’d brought him coffee, been his friend when he didn’t deserve her. He opened his mouth to apologize—

  “Walter gave me part of your caseload. I came to check if you had anything else to tell me that wasn’t in the files.”

  Okay, maybe he’d give her his full attention. “Who you working with?”

  “Landry.”

  What the fuck? “The king of morons? What about Bo?”

  Johnson parked her butt on Bo’s empty desk. “What about him?”

  “Why aren’t you assigned to work with him?” Johnson might be good, real good, but not ready to take over the role of trainer.

  “Maybe you’d better ask Walter.”

  Yeah, maybe he’d better say goodbye to the boss while he had the chance.

  “Lucky?” The cockiness left Johnson’s voice.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Good luck. I’m not much of a praying woman, but I’ve mentioned your name to a few folks who are.”

  And Lucky’d changed his name so many times over the years, the man upstairs might scratch his head and ask, “Who?”

  Good manners said he should thank her. She saved him from the effort. “I gotta run. Please keep me posted.”

  He bluffed a bravado he didn’t quite make sincere. “Why, Johnson, I didn’t know you cared.”

  She swooped so fast he didn’t have time to duck and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Of course I care. Who else’s ass am I gonna whoop at the gym?” She nodded toward the bulk of the SNB’s Department of Diversion Prevention and Control. “The rest of these guys can’t hold their own.”

  She moseyed off down the hallway.

  Lucky swiped at his cheek and wound up with a sticky red mess on his hand. “Yeah, Johnson,” he murmured, “I reckon I’ll miss you too.”

  ***

  One day a stiff wind might cause a desk avalanche on Mount Paper Pile, aka Walter’s desk. He’d carved out enough space for his laptop and coffee cup. Books filled every shelf on a massive cabinet, and motivational posters hung from the walls, spouting the benefits of teamwork.

  Lucky still liked working alone. Or with Bo or Johnson. Not that he’d confess.

  “Why isn’t Bo taking my cases while I’m gone?” He dropped down into his usual chair in front of his boss’s desk. “You said something about no field exercises while I was gone.”

  Walter paused mid-sip of a cup of sugar and whipped cream laden sludge. “And good morning to you too, Lucky.”

  He nudged his boss again. “Johnson tells me you assigned her to my cases. Why?”

  “Because I read your reports. She’s doing well under your instruction.”

  “Not good enough to be cut loose with Landry.” There wasn’t one damned thing Walter could say to make Lucky breathe any easier.

  Walter regarded Lucky with too-knowing eyes. “I’ll be acting as handler.”

  Okay, maybe there was. “You? Why you? You haven’t been out of the office much in years.”

  “All the more reason to do so now, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Disagreeing with the boss might not be the smartest thing to do, but it did make for some lively debates. “You’re out of practice.” Nothing better happen to Rett Johnson.

  “I’ll be coordinating with Jameson O’Donoghue.”

  Brakes squealed in Lucky’s mind. “That sonofa…” As much as he’d like to put down the bastard, O’Donoghue knew his stuff. He’d never be as good as Lucky, but then again, who was?

  Bo. And in about six months, Loretta Johnson might come in a close third. Who knew? Maybe Lucky might get handed another rookie to train with more than shit for brains, and he’d start mass producing good agents.

  “Okay.” Lucky blew out a breath. “You and O’Donoghue relive your glory days. Where does that leave Bo?” They’d better not push Bo to the side. He’d worked too hard to get his head back on straight.

  “I’ve got a special task in mind for him.”

  “Oh?” So, no shoving to the side. But it better not be undercover for months. Lucky might need him.

  “I recommended Bo for temporary transfer to the SNB’s Richmond, Virginia office as part of our inter-department cooperation.” Walter tapped on a few computer keys and settled back in his chair with a smile.

  Richmond. Where some as-yet-to-be-seen doctor planned to whack open Lucky’s innards and help himself to an organ. “Does Bo know?”

  “Not yet. I plan to discuss the matter with him later today.” Walter dropped his business attitude. “I also will remind him of our policies regarding domestic partnerships. He’s free to request a medical leave of absence to care for his partner.”

  And Bo wouldn’t. Leave didn’t completely match salary, and they might be in over their heads financially in a few days. “I doubt he’ll take leave.”

  “Which is why I’ve planned his reassignment. The third option would be for him to use up some of those vacation days he keeps racking up.” Walter leaned forwar
d, elbows on the desk, and peered over the top of his bifocals. “Have the two of you discussed the matter?”

  No. They hadn’t. Lucky’d been so stressed out about his own issues he’d neglected Bo. “No, sir.”

  “Then I suggest you do. And you needn’t worry about anything here. Go. Help your father. Work can wait.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. In a way you’re still working. Saving a life. And if I were in your place, I’d want my wife by my side.” And pity the man who tried to keep Mrs. Smith from Walter’s bedside. The tiny Southern belle with the good manners would show her claws.

  Words refused to come out of Lucky’s mouth, smart-assed or otherwise, and tickling began in the back of his throat. His eyes burned. Subject-change time. “When I see Bo, I’ll call him ‘the little woman.’”

  Walter cracked a smile. “And probably be handed your head. After all, you trained him.” He paused for a moment, rose from behind his desk, and took the vacant chair next to Lucky. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  What could he say? “Um… Thanks.” Time to leave the boss’s office before things turned too mushy.

  Bo passed him in the hall and paused to give a tight smile. “Walter wants to see me.”

  “Then don’t keep the man waiting.” Oh, to be a fly on the wall for the next ten minutes. Lucky went back to his cube. No Bo to talk to. Rett might do in a pinch. No sign of her either.

  Well, time to make good on a few barbeque dinners. He strolled to the reception desk.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Harrison?” Lisa glanced up from her typing.

  “Nah, just stopped by to say howdy.” And because he didn’t want to be alone right now. Back home in North Carolina, she’d have caught three bugs by now with her wide-open mouth. Hey! Who knew he could shock people by being nice?

  The guilty eyes and flushed cheeks made him round the reception desk and peer over her shoulder.

  “Hell no. Tell me Keith isn’t still making you do his work for him. What did I tell you?” The no-account asswipe had a comeuppance heading his way. “Tell him to take his report and shove it—”

  “Mr. Harrison!” Lisa’s eyes got big. “I can’t do that. Keith is a senior agent. I’m just a receptionist. He could get me fired for insubordination.”

  “And I got promoted, so I rank higher than him. If anyone says anything, I’ll back you up. Anyone gives you grief, you tell ‘em I told you to.”

  Lisa hung her head. “I don’t want to get into trouble.”

  Okay, time for a better idea. “If he insists on others doing his work for him, why don’t I help too?” He wriggled his fingers in an up-up motion.

  She hesitated a moment before yielding her chair, leaving Keith’s report open on her computer.

  Lucky sat down and tapped out a few words. Yeah, that’d work. After five minutes, he relinquished her chair. “Now remember, I outrank both you and Keith, so my words stay in, got that? No deleting.”

  “Oh my!” She slapped a hand over her mouth, cutting off a giggle. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Never been surer.” He swaggered back to his cube, whistling off-key a song about sexy tractors. Just wait until Walter Smith read Keith’s report.

  Busy work took about ten minutes, and desk-cleaning took twenty. He didn’t want to come back to a bunch of science experiments growing in coffee cups.

  If he came back.

  After an hour Bo returned and took his place at his desk, saying nothing.

  “Long meeting there,” Lucky prodded.

  “It did go a little long.”

  So not like Bo to withhold information. “And?”

  “And what?” Bo scrunched his brow.

  “What did Walter say?”

  “Oh!” Tension drained out of Bo. “He offered me a chance to take time off for your surgery or work out of the Richmond office so I can be close.”

  “What ya planning to do?” Lucky held his breath.

  “Discuss it with you first. What would you like me to do?” Bo tilted his chair back, rubbing a bit of five o’clock shadow on his chin.

  Come hold my hand? “What do you want to do?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll be the one hanging around a hospital all day.” Shit. Hospitals meant drugs. Drugs meant temptation. “Would that be a problem?”

  “Not at all. If I take leave or vacation, I’ll be underfoot all the time. If I work, I might not be there when you need me.”

  “Ah, you know me. I’m tougher than a pine knot. I’ll be fine.” Please, please come with me! Lucky’s fingernails dug into his palms from the tight fists he made.

  Bo studied Lucky, from the top of this head to his feet, not even pausing at the good stuff. “You’re scared.”

  “Am not.” Okay. Maybe a little. No need worrying Bo, though.

  “Are too. And it’s okay to be scared.”

  “I’m not scared of nothing.” The last time Lucky’d said those words they’d been true. Before Bo. Before Mexico. Before he’d had something to lose.

  Bo slid his chair across the floor and stroked his fingers across Lucky’s cheek. Who gave a happy damn how anyone passing by might react? Those fingers needed to stay. They didn’t.

  Bo stared into Lucky’s eyes. Lucky couldn’t have turned away if he’d tried. “Lucky, I’ve spent some time researching lately. The doctors in Richmond have stellar reputations. These are some of the best transplant surgeons alive. Nothing’s going wrong.”

  “You forget. This is me we’re talking about. Life ain’t about to pass on a chance to hand me shit.” Payback. Karma. Whatever. If a remote chance existed of something going wrong, it would.

  “You don’t have to do this. You can always say no.”

  And let Charlotte and her boys down? Let down his parents, though they’d never know. “I can’t.”

  A quick chin dip was all the nod Bo gave. “I know. But it’s killing me watching you worry so much. It’s going to be fine. Hey, I got you something.” He spun around and pulled an object out of his computer bag. “I meant this as your birthday present, but we got, um, distracted.”

  Bo’s being there and baking a cake had been birthday present enough. Bright colors hung before Lucky’s eyes, taking a minute to come into focus—a miniature metal dragon on a keychain, scales changing from blue to green and back again in the light.

  “My collection is too big for you to take on assignment, so I got you this little guy. He’ll watch over you when I’m not there. Sort of like the hummingbird totem you got me.” Which now hung from a chain around Bo’s neck. “You can take him with you to the hospital, for when I can’t be there.”

  “Bo, I—”

  Bo’s smile fell, and he dropped the hand holding the dragon into his lap. “I know. Sorry. I have my lame moments sometimes.”

  Lucky plucked the dragon from Bo’s fingers. “Thanks. I’ll hang him from the bed rails.” He left his hand on Bo’s, and after a moment shifted the gift to his other hand and laced their fingers together.

  Calm poured through the connection.

  “Well, lookie—”

  Twin glares of death should’ve reduced Keith to ashes. Instead, he leaned against the wall of Bo and Lucky’s cube, smirk firmly in place.

  “Oh, Keith?” Lisa appeared, breathless.

  Keith turned. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Smith would like to see you in his office. To… discuss your latest report.” She sealed her lips in a tight line, but laughter shone in her eyes.

  The asshole of the year spun on his heel and trounced off.

  Lucky had to ask, “Did Walter really ask for him?”

  “Oh yes.” Lisa collapsed into giggles, hanging on to the cube wall for support. “Seems Keith’s last report contained the words to Mary Had a Little Lamb, among other things. The boss is… concerned. Thank you, Lucky. I really appreciate your help.” She snickered again and wandered away.
<
br />   “Mary Had a Little Lamb?” Bo asked. “What’s she talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing.” With about three more years of practice, Lucky might master looking innocent.

  “Lucky.” Bo’s tone nearly matched Lucky’s mother’s when he’d tormented one of his younger brothers as a kid.

  Time to fess up. “Keith didn’t heed my warning and made Lisa do his work again. I… helped.”

  Bo winced. “Helped, how?”

  “Remember the kid’s book Green Eggs and Ham?” Lucky used to read the story to his nephews.

  “Yes.” Bo folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  Lucky rolled his shoulders. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I rewrote it. Kind of. ‘I should not make Lisa do my work, I should not be a stupid jerk, I won’t make Lisa type again…’ I don’t remember all the rest. But the ending is clear enough. ‘I do not like you, Keith my man.’”

  Bo managed a straight face for all of a half minute and released a cackle. “You didn’t!”

  “Sure did.”

  “You know you’ve just won a valuable ally, right? Lisa knows about as much of what goes on around here as Walter does.”

  “I’d rather have you bent over my desk.” Lucky’s attempted leer fell short.

  “How about you save that thought?”

  “Till when?”

  Bo glanced right and left, then brushed his lips over Lucky’s. “Till we get home.”

  ***

  Lucky raced Bo up the sidewalk to their house. Neighbors might get an eyeful. Let ‘em.

  Bo won the race, leaving Lucky to fumble to get the door open while he stood on one foot and yanked his shoe off.

  He grabbed Bo and fused their mouths. The door sprung open. Together they fell through the doorway. Lucky tossed the shoe God knew where and slammed Bo against the wall.

  “Clothes! Off! Now!” Lucky grabbed either side of Bo’s button-down shirt and ripped, buttons pinging off the walls.

  “My shirt!” Bo cried.

  “I’ll get you a new one.” Lucky ran his lips down newly exposed skin. “I’ll get you a dozen.” He slid to his knees, working Bo’s belt loose. “I’ll get you three dozen.”