Reunion: Diversion Six

by Eden Winters

  Bo shook his head. “You have to recover. No fun and games.”

  Spoilsport. “The doctor didn’t say not to.” Bo didn’t need to know that anything beyond a kiss was out of Lucky’s possibilities right now.

  “He probably assumed he didn’t have to. I’m sure not many of his patients get frisky after surgery.” Bo’s words said no, but the cocked brow and smile on his lips said, “You might be able to talk me into something.”

  If Bo danced in his leather chaps now, Lucky would pop his stitches and staples. “Frisky? Did you say ‘frisky’?”

  Bo glared, but he didn’t push Lucky’s roving hand away, which equaled a great big “Yes!” in Lucky’s book. Not that he’d be able to do much, but he wasn’t dead yet.

  Nurse and patient roleplaying? Hell yeah! As long as the nurse wasn’t Andy the stalker.

  Numbness spread out, making Lucky’s eyelids droop. In moments like these, he understood why people got addicted to painkillers. Lovely things. But like many lovely things, also deadly if mishandled.

  A knock on the open door jolted him awake.

  “Mr. Harrison?” A woman stepped through the door. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. My daughter said she’d talk to you, but I wanted to come myself and tell you how grateful we are…” Every bit of color fled the woman’s face. “Richmond?”

  Oh shit! “Mama?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucky grabbed the bed railings and tried to wriggle into a sitting position. “Ow! Hot damn! Motherfuck!” Jelly beans flew in all directions.

  Bo leapt off the chair and caught Lucky’s mother before she hit the floor.

  Spots formed before Lucky’s eyes. He yanked a pillow against his incision. “Motherfucker, motherfucker! Oh, sorry, Mama!”

  “Lucky, are you okay?” Bo shifted Lucky’s mother around until she lay on the chair.

  Lucky lied and nodded, sucking in and pushing out air. He jammed his thumb down on the happy drug button. Gradually the stabbing in his belly lessened, but didn’t stop. What he wouldn’t give for a shot right now to knock his ass out.

  But…

  He twisted as much as the gnawing in his gut allowed. “Gah!”

  Bo pressed a button and a wonderful nurse with the great meds shot into the room and rushed to the bedside. “What happened?”

  Bo spoke. Lucky couldn’t. “He tried to jump out of bed.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Lucky clutched the bed railings tighter.

  The nurse fiddled with something and set about checking Lucky’s bandages.

  Oh, sweet relief! Lucky sighed and settled back on the bed.

  “What about her?” The nurse nodded toward the reclining chair.

  Oh crap! “Mama?”

  A moan. Bo holding out his arm. Fingers clutching Bo’s hand.

  And then…

  The world faded to black.

  ***

  “Why did he let us think he was dead?” The outrage in his mother’s voice made pretending to be passed out his best option.

  Adulthood hadn’t dimmed Lucky’s fear of Mama taking on “The Tone.”

  And Bo’s voice held the proper amount of fear. “I should wait and let him tell you this…”

  “You’ll tell me right this minute!” Memory served up a mental image of Mama Lucklighter, hands on her hips, ripping one of her young’uns a new asshole about something or other they’d done.

  She hadn’t fussed nearly enough at her oldest.

  But, oh hell. Time to spill the whole ugly truth or die for real.

  On the one hand, Bo might tell the story better, leave out the parts Mama didn’t need to know. On the other hand, even a coward couldn’t make someone else deal with the family. Not a family of hotheads like the Lucklighters. And not someone Lucky loved.

  “Mama?”

  She jabbed a finger into Bo’s chest, much like Lila did to the redhead. “That’s my son! I have the right—” Oh, Lord. On a roll and no stopping her now. But Lucky’d try.

  “Mom!”

  She-bears with cubs had nothing on Southern mothers in full protective mode. She stepped forward, rising on her toes to stare Bo down. “Who are you and what are you doing here? What’s going on? Why did you keep my son from me?”

  Bo stepped back and flattened himself against a wall. Trust him to be too polite to fight back. He should learn from dealing with Charlotte about fierce Lucklighter women.

  Lucky braced his incision, took a deep breath, and bellowed, “Sheila Annette Lucklighter!” There. Nothing got a Southerner’s attention better than all three names—a Southern mother’s weapon of choice for generations.

  Even if the effort nearly killed him.

  Bo and Mama both whipped their heads toward Lucky, the “Oh thank God!” in Bo’s eyes screaming louder than words.

  The woman Lucky hadn’t seen in way too many years bore down on him like an avenging angel and stopped mere inches from the bed. More wrinkles, strands of gray. Still Mom.

  One by one, tears streaked down her face.

  Oh damn. Now he’d gone and made her cry. “Mom, sit down, I can explain everything.”

  She grabbed him in a chokehold and held on. “My boy’s alive. That’s all I need to know.”

  Lucky screamed. His mom let go.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She dropped down into the chair while Lucky struggled to keep most of his swearing inside his mouth. Dear God! Pain!

  Breathe in, breathe out. Again. Again. There. Better.

  “God, I’ve missed you.” She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Bo handed her tissues and retreated to the far side of the room.

  Smart man.

  “I’ve missed you too.” Even on pain meds, Lucky flinched at how hard Mom gripped his hand.

  He wouldn’t say so. He’d waited too long to have her hand in his. “I’m sorry for being such an as… jerk, all my life.” He’d always be an asshole, it’s what he did, but he could still be sorry for his mother’s sake to have an asshole for a son.

  Correction. Two assholes, counting Bristol.

  “I…”

  “Shhh…” She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk. I know how much pain you’re in, if your daddy is anything to go by.”

  Daddy. She had to mention dad. “How is he?”

  “He’ll live.” She paused before adding, “and he owes you his life,” holding his hand, stroking along the back. More quietly than before, she asked Bo, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  Bo connected his gaze to Lucky’s, brows raised.

  Ah hell. Lucky hadn’t imagined this day coming, so couldn’t form a plan. “Mama, I…”

  She shushed him again. “If this young man is who I suspect he is, he’ll be able to answer without you having to talk.”

  Lucky sighed. “Okay, you win.”

  Bo’s brows rose higher. “Just like that? You’re doing what she says without arguing?”

  Yeah, yeah, rub it in.

  Bo grinned. “Mrs. Lucklighter, when all this is said and done, can you teach me that trick? He always argues with me.”

  “It’s not hard once you set your mind to it.” Her smile fell. “Now start talking.”

  “Better do it,” Lucky warned. “I’m pretty sure she has a concealed carry permit.” And a house full of guns.

  Bo dragged a hand through his hair. “I believe you remember the part about Lucky being arrested?”

  Mama nodded.

  “Well, two years into his sentence, he made a deal to cooperate with the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau while working off his time. He’s one of the best agents we have.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “He still is? But his sentence should’ve ended.”

  Ah, and here Lucky thought his family didn’t care enough to know any details about his life.

  “It did,” Lucky answered.

  “And then we were told he died.” She shot Lucky an accusing glare.

  Bo came to Lucky’s rescue. �
��Ma’am, with all due respect, your son put a lot of criminals in prison. They don’t take too kindly to his testifying against them. The bureau faked his death and gave him a new identity for his own protection. He stayed on.”

  No need to tell Mama the real reason Lucky stayed with the bureau stood three feet from her, resting the finest ass this side of the Mississippi against the wall. He’d once been close with his mother, but some things he didn’t need to share.

  “I read about how he’d died saving another agent and all. Most of the family said there’d been a mistake, but I knew my boy.” She wiped at her eyes again and sniffled.

  Bo handed her another tissue from the box on the counter. “He got hurt pretty bad, spent time in the hospital. Hel… Um… Even I believed he’d died.”

  Slowly bewilderment turned to understanding on Mom’s face. “Charlotte knew the truth.”

  “Not at first. But yeah, she figured it out.” Bo left out the part about Charlotte pulling a gun on him, trying to protect Lucky.

  Mama’s sniffles became sobs. “She didn’t tell me!”

  Time for Lucky to step in and save Bo. Besides, narcotics dulled his self-preservation instincts. “I asked her not to.”

  “Why ever not! I’m your mother!”

  “Y’all weren’t speaking to me at the time, but also, there’s some folks out there who might’ve used my family to get to me. I’ve made a lot of powerful enemies over the years.” The orange blossoms in a vase on the side cart caught his attention. Some powerful friends, too, but still. “Being associated with me isn’t exactly safe.”

  Bo snorted and coughed into his hand, “Understatement.”

  True.

  What could Lucky possibly say to make things right?

  Mama blew her nose.

  Bo passed over the tissue box. “You’ll be happy to know your son is the department’s best undercover agent.”

  Just until Bo officially claimed the title, which would probably happen once he’d fully recovered from too much time spent in someone else’s head.

  Had the nurse given Lucky too many drugs or did Mom widen her eyes?

  Lila’s outraged face remained frozen on the TV screen. At some point Bo must have paused the show.

  Mama followed Lucky’s line of sight. “Is that South Bend Springs? You used to watch it with me when you were little, remember?”

  Bo gave Lucky his best, oh, really? brow-lift and smirk combo.

  Time to stop looking at Bo for a while. Lucky grabbed the remote off the side table and turned off the TV to say the words he’d longed to. “I’m making an honest living now. I did my time.”

  “He’s now training leader.” If they ever had kids, Bo would probably hang every single childish doodle on the refrigerator door. He got too proud of the littlest things.

  “Really?” Mama didn’t have to act so amazed.

  He might only have her here for a few minutes. No telling what would happen once she walked out the door. She couldn’t leave without knowing as much of the truth as Lucky did. “Did y’all really disown me ‘cause you assumed I sent Daytona drugs?”

  Mama’s gasp nearly sucked all the air from the room. “Why would you do such a thing? You know how hard he struggled.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “But the card came from you.”

  Bo stepped in. “By ‘vice’ Lucky meant a video game.”

  “A video game.” Mama wobbled, face pale. If Lucky could’ve moved, he’d have inched closer to catch her if she fell again.

  “Yes, Mama. I sent him a video game for his birthday, to the farm, since I didn’t know he’d left for college yet, and figured it best if you and daddy knew what he was getting. Someone must’ve gotten the package, traded the game for drugs, and sent them to his dorm.” And if Lucky ever found the sorry bastard who’d nearly killed Daytona…

  “A video game.” She sounded more convinced this time. “But who would do such a thing, and why?”

  Lucky shrugged, about all the motion he could manage without agony. “Dunno. But I’m trying to find out.”

  The sobs began again. “All these years! All these years we haven’t spoken to you, for something you didn’t do.”

  “I still broke laws, got thrown into jail. What I did do was bad enough.” And if he ever got charged for all his sins, he’d never be a free man again.

  The edge returned to his mother’s voice. “And you turned on Victor. He’s dead. I might not have agreed with how he made his living, but he was good to you. He was good to the whole family.”

  True. And he’d turned a dumbass redneck into a slightly smarter dumbass redneck. “I can’t tell you Victor’s story, but I don’t believe he’s holding any grudges against me.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to say, “Then he’s still alive too?”

  Damn. Bo wasn’t the only one who should give spoiler alerts. “Forget you heard that. He’d dead. Deader than dead, and not working with international drug enforcement.”

  Mama glanced at Bo and back to Lucky.

  It took Lucky three tries to say, “Old news. This here’s…” His energy gave out.

  Bo held out his hand. “I’m Bo, Lucky’s partner. His off the job partner. Why don’t we finish this conversation somewhere else and let Lu… Richmond get some rest? Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  Twin kisses landed on Lucky’s cheeks.

  Lucky let his consciousness fade. Bo had this.

  Maybe.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucky jerked awake. Crap. Someone here. And Bo’s movements no longer disturbed his sleep. Not Bo. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Why wasn’t Moose growling? He slipped his hand over the side of the bed, inching toward the nightstand and his .38.

  Rails. Bed rails. Oh. Hospital. Not home. Darn the luck. Dim lights didn’t give him a clear view, but someone definitely stood over him.

  No drug-induced hallucination either.

  Playing asleep might be the best option. He scrunched his eyes closed. After an eternity, he cracked open one eye, to a dark silhouette. Too short for Bo. Too tall for Mom or Charlotte.

  Just right for Nurse Andy. But the creeper had never been subtle.

  And not a weapon at hand. The intruder had to hear the bang, bang, bang of his heart.

  Ever so slowly, he worked his fingers toward the nurse call button. Jab!

  A disembodied voice asked, “Can I help you?”

  The silhouette shot out the door. Oh shit! Bright hallway lights! Darkness again.

  Damn it! He didn’t get a good look.

  “Sir, is everything all right?” the voice asked.

  “Um… Can I get a cup of decaf?” No way he’d go back to sleep now.

  ***

  Nurse Andy whistled while taking Lucky’s vitals.

  In a moment of quiet, Lucky hummed The Police’s Every Breath You Take, getting louder on the part about watching.

  ***

  Four long-assed days of hell. Though the throbbing agony eased some, pain shot through Lucky each and every time the nurse made him walk.

  Sadistic prick. Whenever Andy passed by the door, Lucky prepared for the worst. Sometimes the nurse glanced in and kept walking, sometimes he came in to fluff a pillow and otherwise freak Lucky out with too much attention, and other times he dogged the heels of anyone rambling out in the hallway.

  Afraid someone might come in besides him? What’d he have? Bedpan envy? Didn’t he get enough of staring holes through Lucky last night when he stood over the bed?

  And there Andy came, this time shadowing Walter. Walter stepped through the open door. Andy kept on going.

  Ah, to have the office betting pool handy. Several twenties might find their way into Lucky’s pocket by wagering how long before Andy passed by again.

  “You know my nurse is trying to kill me, right?” he told Walter.

  Walter planted himself in the doorway, potted ivy in one hand and a Starbucks cup in the
other.

  Lucky nodded toward the open door where Nurse Nosy traipsed past. “I see you, you stalker.”

  “And good afternoon to you, too, Lucky.”

  Lucky held out his hand and took the cup. If Walter ever wanted him out of the way, all he had to do was poison the coffee, which at this point, Lucky might drink even knowing he’d die afterwards.

  Lucky occupied himself with coffee to keep from getting all mushy. Ah, good and hot, filled with sugar, not stevia, but missing caffeine. Dammit. Even after being on decaf at Bo’s insistence, Lucky missed his morning caffeine jolt, though he slept much better at night now.

  But at least he still got to enjoy the taste. And sipping coffee passed the time while Walter found a place for the plant and settled himself into the chair with a sigh. “Attempts on your life aside, how are you feeling?”

  “Worse than shit.”

  “Ah, an improvement then. When last we spoke you were, how did you phrase it? ‘Worse than warmed-over shit.’”

  Leave it to the boss to classify feeling like shit into levels. “How’s things going?” Even though the pain kept him in bed most of the time, Lucky never idled well. He’d get up and do something—as soon as his guts stopped trying to kill him.

  “Loretta is doing an admirable job with the trainees back in Atlanta, but I’m afraid Bo’s made a huge mistake at the Richmond office.”

  “Not Bo!” Surely Mr. I-Love-Everybody hadn’t taken Lucky’s job of pissing people off.

  “Yes, I’m afraid after less than a week they’ve already contacted me, asking to transfer him permanently to their office.”

  “And?” Hell, Lucky’d turned down a job with Nestor’s international outfit, and now Bo got an offer? Would he turn this opportunity down? The moment came like a slap to the face. In the time he’d known Bo, the man had grown to be a superior agent. With his kind disposition, of course he’d be in demand.

  When Lucky got out of here, he’d damned well keep the promise to be a better partner, lest he lose Bo to someone more thoughtful, like Walter might lose Bo if the Richmond office made a good enough offer.

  No, not right. Lucky would be a better partner, not out of fear, but because Bo deserved to be treated right.