by Eden Winters
“I didn’t do it. I mighta sent him a gift, like I did the rest of you. But it sure the hell wasn’t heroin.” Not even if he could have afforded the price.
“What did you send him then?”
“I don’t remember offhand. Jeez, woman. You expect me to recollect something happened over ten years ago?” He wasn’t getting old. Nope, surely not. He just—had a lot on his mind. Yeah, sounded good.
Charlotte’s shoulders sagged and she unballed her fists. Maybe Lucky wouldn’t get punched after all. The minutes of head scratching and staring out into space grated on Lucky’s nerves.
“You’re creeping me out here. Say something.” Anything’d do right now.
She slammed a hand down on her thigh hard enough to make Lucky jump. “Someone at the college must’ve switched your package.”
“College? Fuck! He said it came to his dorm room, right? That proves I didn’t send it. I knew how suspicious Mom and Dad were of Daytona’s friends, so I always mailed stuff to the farm where they’d know about it.”
“But how would it get from the farm to his dorm, and who switched it and framed you?” Charlotte nibbled at a fingernail. “And why?”
Lucky had a good idea, but he wasn’t going to say until he got a chance to check out his suspicions. Would his shady past ever leave him alone? Right around the time Daytona received the package the buzzards had circled, waiting to swoop down on Victor’s operation. Two tickets. To Rio.
The Lucky of fourteen years ago wouldn’t have left his family.
Unless his family forced his hand. And Victor sure had access to about any kind of drug he wanted.
But why would Victor pay for the kid’s college and try to kill him?
***
Lucky lay alone in bed, without even a cat or dog for company. Darned traitors preferred Charlotte’s company apparently.
Bo stepped out of the bathroom, naked and damp from a shower.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” Lucky lifted the covers for his man to slide beneath.
“Did you two have a good talk?” Bo slipped beneath the covers, skin warm from his shower.
Staring at the ceiling didn’t make the words come any easier. Bo might not believe Lucky hadn’t supplied his brother’s drug habit. Especially when Lucky couldn’t remember exactly what he’d sent. “My folks disowned me for sending my kid brother enough heroin to OD the whole damned family.”
“You what?”
Lucky held Bo close in case he tried to run. Averting his gaze made confession easier, and hid any disappointment or accusation in Bo’s eyes. “Someone delivered a birthday present to his dorm. He said I’d signed the card. He’d know my writing. But, Bo. I swear to God I’da never hurt him.”
Bo’s reply came instantly. “Any idea who did?”
“Victor wanted me to leave the county with him before we got busted. No way would I have left my family. Maybe he arranged things so I had no reason to stay.” Victor might have been a drug trafficker, running one of the biggest pharmaceutical drug rings in the country, but drugging a teenager wasn’t his style. No matter the reason.
“You don’t believe it was him.”
“No. But who else could it be?” If only he could pick up the phone and call Victor, ask him. But now, talking to him again wasn’t on Lucky’s to-do list. Ever.
“Someone who wanted you out of your folks’ life?”
“My family liked Victor, or his money at any rate.”
“Any spare homophobes hanging from the family tree?” Bo turned off the bedside lamp and spooned against Lucky’s side.
“Dad didn’t quite get it, and Bristol preached about me going to hell, but he still took Victor’s money for college.”
“And you don’t remember what you actually sent?”
“No. I’ve slept a lot since then.” He barely remembered breakfast, let alone what he’d bought for his brother’s birthday umpteen years ago.
“We could always ask Nestor.”
Nestor. Code for asking a man who’d supposedly died but might possibly be in France living the good life with a former Mexican drug lord. Maybe if Lucky didn’t have to talk to Victor directly…
“I don’t know how to get in touch with him. And Victor’s memory might not be much better than mine.” If Victor even agreed to answer.
“He’d remember drugging your brother.”
Damn. If Lucky’s head didn’t quit spinning it might twist right off his neck. “Maybe.”
“At least talk to Walter.”
Yeah. Walter knew things he shouldn’t. He might be able to track down two international narcotics agents.
Bo drew the covers back and pressed his hand against Lucky’s shoulder until he lay flat on this stomach. “I know I’m asking the impossible, but try to put it out of your mind for now. You need to get some sleep.”
Sleep. Helluva lot easier said than done. “What did you do out in the garage?”
“Worked on the door. It still doesn’t lift right. I’m afraid we need a new door opener.”
One more thing on an already ungodly to-do list.
Bo worked his knuckles against the knotted muscles in Lucky shoulders. The man had him some skillful hands.
Lucky groaned, shifting around to put the worst tension in the line of fire.
“Oh.” Bo stopped rubbing. “I downloaded a new game on my cell phone.”
Lucky growled until the rubbing resumed. “You what?”
“I got a new game on my phone. It’s pretty cool. There’s all these things in the backyard to catch…”
“A game?”
“Yes, a game. I can download it onto your phone too, if you’d like.”
Lucky shot out of bed. “That’s it!”
Bo grabbed the comforter and barely missed hitting the floor. “What’s it?”
“My brother loved video games, and Victor had some connections, so I managed to get a copy of something he wanted before it hit the stores. I can’t for the life of me tell you the name, but I swear to God, all I sent was a video game.”
I know I shouldn’t encourage your vices, but here, knock yourself out.
A game. Only a game.
Lucky’s guts untwisted, only to twist up again. Someone had switched the game for heroin. Daytona wasn’t a good enough liar to make up such a story.
So. Victor must have sent the drugs.
Who else could it be?
***
Being in the boss’s office without the boss freaked Lucky out, but he’d crept in twenty minutes early to lie in wait and avoid coworkers, or most particularly, Bo.
And getting up and walking out meant losing his nerve. Nope. Not happening. He needed answers, answers only Walter Smith stood a chance of getting. Had the clock on the wall always been so loud ticking off the seconds?
The boss shuffled into his office, Starbucks cup in hand. Normally Starbucks cups set Lucky to drooling, but anything in Walter’s cup had to be covered in whipped cream with lots of caramel or whatever. Eww… One accidental sip had Lucky in the bathroom scraping his tongue once.
Lucky slunk down in the chair, his ankle crossed over the opposite knee. Walter didn’t notice him until letting out a groan and sinking into his own chair—which also groaned.
“Lucky? My goodness! What are you doing here this early?” Walter glanced at his watch.
“I found out something last night, and I need to ask our mutual friends a question.”
“And which mutual friends are you referring to?” Walter didn’t have to make so much noise sipping his cup of pure sugar, did he?
“The ones who offered me a job.”
Walter stopped sipping in mid slurp. “What kind of question? While I’d never hold you back, I’d hate to lose you here.”
Oh. Damn. Charlotte would be slapping Lucky upside the head for his poor choice of words. “Nah, I haven’t changed my mind. But you remember me telling you about my family disowning me? Not speaking to me?”
“Yes, I recall. It h
appened right after your arrest, correct?”
“Thereabouts.”
“And?”
“And last night I had a long talk with my sister. Turns out what pissed my parents off is me sending heroin to my kid brother, the one with the drug problems.” If Lucky hadn’t been studying Walter closely, he might have missed the narrowing around the man’s eyes, his pursed lips, the harsh breathing.
Lucky returned the scowl with one of his own. “Do you honestly believe I’d do that to anyone, let alone my own brother? I might have helped Victor ship a lot of drugs back in the day, but only pharmaceuticals, not any schedule 1 drugs. And even if I lost my fucking mind and tried, Victor would’ve found out and stopped me if I so much as talked to a heroin dealer. Too much of a chance of leading cops to his door.”
And just as subtly, Walter’s puffed-up hostility deflated. He lifted his bifocals and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Forgive me, Lucky. I know how much your family means to you. You’d give your life for theirs. But if he received such a package, why did they suspect you as the sender?”
“Because it came with a birthday card I’d actually sent him. Only someone replaced the video game I’d bought with drugs.” He pushed the next part out around a boulder lodged in his throat. Victor Mangiardi knew about the gift. Hell, even used his pull to get a pre-release copy of the game. “Victor wanted me to go with him out of the country when the Feds started getting too close.”
“But you’d never have abandoned your family.” A statement, not a question. Of all the folks Lucky knew in this bureau, only Bo and Walter ever noticed the Lucklighter clan-shaped hole in his heart.
“No, I wouldn’t. He’d have had to convince me to leave them behind.”
“And your family disowning you would have been a suitable reason.” Walter’s expression gave away nothing of his feelings. “You believe Victor sent the drugs to your brother.”
“Who else would have spent that much money?” Lucky dropped his head against the chair back.
“An enemy, perhaps?”
“All my enemies at the time would’ve taken a direct approach.” How in the world had Lucky survived so long without someone putting a bullet through his brain? Pure, dumb luck.
“Did your brother use the drugs?”
Oh yeah. Lucky never had been able to tell a story right without leaving shit out. “He OD’d. Damn near died.” Counting ceiling tiles made a better pastime than watching Walter blank face, hoping for a hint of emotion.
Not many folks’ opinions mattered to Lucky. Walter’s did.
Walter twirled an ink pen against his desk blotter, drawing Lucky’s attention from the ceiling. “Do you believe Victor would have put your brother in such danger? Remember, I knew him once upon a time. He might have been an opportunist when it came to making money, and skirted laws for longer than most traffickers without getting caught, but nothing I’ve heard of him would lead me to believe he’d risk your brother.”
Victor paid for all three of Lucky’s brothers to go to college, and when Charlotte fled her abusive husband, Victor bought her a house across country and paid a ‘little visit’ to the loser. Not to mention all the times he’d bailed the Lucklighter farm out during hard times. Why go to so much trouble then try to kill Daytona? “Good point.”
“Plus, as you said before about enemies, he’d take a more direct approach.”
“Yeah, he would, but I can’t be sure till I ask. While I don’t expect to run into any of the family but Charlotte while I’m in the hospital, I still gotta know if Victor screwed me over, and why.” Plus, even if Daytona never found out, Lucky had to prove his innocence, for himself and for Charlotte.
“I understand. And while I can’t promise anything, and I have no direct contact with him, I’ll do my best to pass your message along.” Walter-speak for “consider it done”. “Is there anything else you want to say?”
Was there? The boulder in Lucky’s throat grew to twice its size, dropped down, and wedged in his heart. While he’d never completely figured out his feelings for the man who’d shown him the finer points of drug trafficking and had shared his bed, he’d never once hated Victor.
If Victor gave Daytona drugs, years of hate were coming on. “That’s all I can ask.” And it’d be nice to have an answer before going under the surgeon’s knife. Minutes ticked away, and still so much to be done before taking an extended leave. “I appreciate all you can do.” Lucky rose from his chair, shaking his foot to restore circulation. Rookie evaluations called, and he must answer. He’d made it halfway to the door when Walter spoke again.
“I take it you’re still leaving tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry about Moose. Lucy and I will take good care of him.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Well, good luck to you. If you need anything else, anything at all, please let me know.”
“I will.” An imagined elbowing from Bo on one side and Charlotte on the other prompted, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. You’re my best agent. I wish you Godspeed and safe return.”
Lucky stood frozen. Should he say more? Tell Walter how much he admired him and how much he appreciated having someone believe in him, give him a chance, when no one else would? And who apparently believed he hadn’t send a heroin gift pack.
Walter struggled to his feet and moved faster than Lucky’d ever seen. One moment he came barreling down like a freight train, the next…
“Acck! Boss! I can’t breathe!”
“Oh, so sorry.” Walter relaxed his bear hug slightly. He held on and on, and whispered, “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it with my last breath, because I really shouldn’t play favorites, but Lucky, you’re the son my wife and I always wished we’d had.” He stepped back, pushing a thumb and forefinger beneath his glasses to wipe his eyes. “Safe travels.”
He turned and took his time going back to his desk. Crying, maybe?
Which worked out fine. Better off nobody glimpsed the tears in Lucky’s eyes either.
***
Nobody seemed to notice the world’s impending doom. They went about their typing, gossiping, coffee-sipping, like always, in the SNB cube farm.
But if Lisa wrung her hands and said, “Good morning, Mr. Harrison,” one more time… Then again, maybe Lucky should quit passing by her desk while stalking the boardroom, waiting for Bo to appear.
What kind of meeting lasted—he checked the clock on the wall—two hours? Oh. Only two hours? Jeez, seemed like ten.
Johnson caught him mid-pace. “Bo’s meeting went over. I’m taking you to lunch.”
No asking, just telling. “And if I say no?”
The woman Lucky probably wouldn’t say no to shrugged. “Then I sling you over my shoulder, slap you on the ass, and drag you kicking and screaming to Bucky’s.”
The glint in her eyes said she’d do it too. One more glance toward the closed conference room door didn’t make Bo suddenly appear.
Lucky’s stomach rumbled.
Johnson grinned. Winning didn’t mean she had to gloat.
Lucky marched toward the elevator. “Fine. But wipe the smile off your face, or we take my car.” Watching her try to fold herself into his tiny Camaro ought to be good for a few laughs. Amazing she’d managed to squeeze in the night they went clubbing, especially in her high heels and painted-on dress.
She stopped smiling when they reached her Jeep. “If you need anything—” Her attention on opening the door meant Lucky wasted a perfectly good eye roll.
“Why do people keep telling me that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because we fucking care.” She never raised her voice and didn’t have to. What an impressive amount of sarcasm she’d manage to put into those two words. She climbed into the Jeep and drummed her fingernails on the steering wheel while Lucky got in and buckled his seat belt. “My cat is kind of territorial, but you got a place for the cat and dog? I can come over and feed ‘em if you need
me to.”
“Walter’s taking Moose, Mrs. Griggs is taking the cat.”
“Good. How long you reckon you’ll be gone?” Johnson fired up the vehicle and drove out of the underground parking garage, straight into Peachtree Street traffic.
A few weeks? Forever. Lucky shuddered. Nope. Not going there. “I dunno. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She dropped her voice to a murmur. “You need me, I’ll be here.”
No tears. No way, no how. “Keep the rookies in line while I’m gone, would ya? Don’t let ‘em burn the place down.”
“Sure thing, boss. And you keep an eye out for hot doctors or orderlies.”
“Does Bo know you talk like this to me?”
“I’m not asking you to look for you, I’m asking you to look for me.”
“What about Philip?” Had she finally seen the light? She deserved so much better than the loser she dated.
“I’m dating, not dead. And watching hot doctors will keep you occupied and your head out of your ass.”
Rett shouldn’t get so mushy on him at work.
But yeah, he’d miss her too.
***
Lucky turned a blind eye to the front lawn in need of, well, more lawn and less bare spots. His sister hadn’t commented on the tons of work the house needed, or the crack in the driveway determined to snag her boot heels as she traipsed from the front door out to her car. Lucky trailed behind her, lugging her suitcase, while Bo kept both hands on Moose’s leash.
Excited mutt wanted to go for a ride.
“I’ve gotta get to the farm before anyone misses me.” Her boots lifted Charlotte enough to plant a kiss on Lucky’s cheek without rising up on her toes.
Lucky forced his gaze to meet hers. “You don’t really believe Daytona, do you?”
“I believe that he believes.” She placed a hand against Lucky’s cheek. “But I also believe you. You wouldn’t hurt him or the rest of the family. Besides, like you said, you’re too cheap to spend so much money on something you can’t drive.”
Truth there. Plus, Victor’s generosity knew no bounds as far as possessions went, but he’d doled out only modest amounts of cash.