by Eden Winters
When the man stepped away from the podium, another took his place who shared features Lucky saw every morning in the mirror. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
That voice!
Oh shit.
Chapter Eighteen
The voices jumbled in his head, Nurse Andy’s and Bristol’s, both saying, “You should have stayed dead.”
Victor’s old home territory included Richmond. What if someone who’d dealt with him hadn’t gotten the word about Victor still living and decided to get revenge?
Or a million other bastards out there might have it in for Lucky. You should have stayed dead.
Lucky last “died” during the Ryerson pill mill case. Surely Dr. Ryerson and her accomplices hadn’t come after him. Would be his luck to survive the worst drug lords in the country to be taken out by a Southern belle with a ruthless streak. But one never could tell what people might do with their backs against the wall. Her trial got delayed yet again, and she walked relatively free for now.
Nurse Andy could be working for her. But Bristol’s voice sent chills up his spine. Could be a holdover from their past, but might be more.
But what if Bristol had been in the room and knew Lucky still lived?
They might have called him Idiot Boy in younger days, yet he’d been the smartest of the bunch. Yet Bristol used to cry when getting a shot. Fainted at the sight of a needle.
The dial swung back to Nurse Andy. Lucky’s gut told him either Nurse Andy or Bristol had tried to kill him, and his gut feelings weren’t often wrong.
Or maybe he’d eaten way too much soft food lately and his stomach staged a rebellion to get a burger and fries. Whatever. Either one of those two assholes had access to Lucky’s family. Bristol had sense enough to figure out that if Lucky lived, Charlotte knew.
And Bristol hadn’t wanted to help Dad. Claimed him dying was God’s will. What if Bristol decided to play God?
Damn it all to hell! Until the meds cleared Lucky’s system, every single thought could be real, or simply paranoia.
No use taking chances, then. He slid out of bed. He should have been going home today anyway. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. He crept out into the hallway with his IV pole. At least wearing loose sweat pants meant his bare ass wasn’t shining out the back of a split-tailed hospital gown.
Gray walls, gray floor. Not a lot of people about. He stuck his head around a corner. An old man and woman sat in wheelchairs in the hallway. The smell of the hallway didn’t scream “hospital in a can” like the place he’d left.
He should find some clothes. What about a car?
“Lucky? What are you doing?”
Damn. Busted. He turned a sheepish smile on Bo. Holding completely still kept his gut pain to a minimum. Still there, but bearable. The image of one good jab to his stitches and his remaining liver sliding out raced through his mind.
Bo grabbed him by the arm.
Lucky yelped and let himself be led back to his room. “We gotta get back to the hospital.”
Bo tucked Lucky into bed, checked his IV, and folded his arms across his chest. “Why?”
“Because whoever tried to kill me is still there. With my family.”
“We’ve got surveillance in place, and Keith’s counterpart in the Richmond office is going over security videos to figure out who went into your room.”
Not good enough. Lucky needed to be in the middle of the action. “I got a real good idea who tried to off me.”
“Who?”
“Nurse Andy or Bristol Lucklighter.”
Bo let out a long-suffering sigh. “Andrew Polatty? I searched, and found nothing on him.”
“I checked him too. He checks out, all right. His record is almost a perfect match for Simon Harrison’s. Which means it’s fake.”
Bo palmed his face. “Oh, shit. And you’d be able to find dirt on him if it existed, wouldn’t you? I told Walter it was too soon to give you your laptop.”
“Well, I don’t have access to a few more records I need, but yeah.”
The hand dropped, revealing Bo’s wide eyes and open mouth. “Wait a damned minute. Bristol? You suspect your brother? Why?”
“There ain’t a bit of love lost between us, I can tell you. He hated having a hick family. It must’ve stuck in his craw kinda bad to have a brother go to prison.” Not much of a way Bristol could explain the arrest to the pack of rich kids he’d hung around with.
Bo tapped a finger against his chin. “You do realize narcotics and sedatives can induce paranoia, right?”
Yeah, they could. “Listen to me. This ain’t drugs talking. We gotta get over there.” Lucky struggled to get up. Bo kept him down with one hand on his chest.
“You’re not going anywhere. If anything, I’ll go. And I’ll call Walter on the way. Tell him your suspicions. But not liking you isn’t a motive for murder. If it was…”
No need saying how many times Lucky would have died by now if contempt killed. Too bad housekeeping came back for the knife he’d kept from his lunch tray, taking away his only defense from homicidal maniacs. “You don’t believe me.” Lucky stuck out his lip. Normally, Bo had his back.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“It won’t hurt to question a few folks again.” Damn, Bo had gotten good at imitating Walter’s blank-face expression. Things worked better when every thought, good or bad, registered on his face.
“I need to go with you.”
Bo crouched down, nose to nose with Lucky. “No. You’ve always wanted me to trust you. It’s time for you to trust me. Now you stay here and behave yourself. I’ll call if we find anything out.”
Oh hell no. “No. I’m going with you.”
“Are not.” Bo lifted his chin, in full stubborn mode.
Nobody did stubborn like a Lucklighter. “Am too.”
“Don’t make me do this.”
“Do what?”
Bo turned toward the door. “Josh?”
An armed guard stepped through the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Schollenberger?” Damn, what a pile of muscle.
“Make sure Mr. Harrison stays in his room. For his own good.”
“I need to be there.” Why couldn’t the man see reason? A fight or running might be beyond Lucky’s current abilities, but he’d take his chances. Bo, Mama, and Charlotte’s lives depended on him.
“Okay, you win!” Bo threw his hands in the air. “But first go take a shower.” He wrinkled his nose.
Shower, right. Lucky sat. Crap. IV.
“Go start washing. I’ll get someone to take out your IV.” Bo flapped a hand toward the bathroom. “Go! Time’s a wasting.”
Lucky gritted his teeth and climbed out of bed. No showing Bo how much he hurt. He shuffled into the bathroom wearing nothing but a T-shirt and worn sweatpants. Where was the nurse to get the damned needle out of his hand?
“Toss out your clothes. I’ll pick you something to wear,” Bo called through the door.
Oh, yeah. Clothes. One-handed, Lucky shucked off the pants. Hmmm… The shirt might be a problem. He’d have to wait until the nurse got there.
Lucky opened the door and tossed the pants out.
He waited.
And waited.
Finally, he wrapped a towel around his waist, opened the door, and stuck his head out. “Bo?”
Nothing. The dresser drawer stood open. And empty. What? Nothing in any drawer. No shoes. What the fuck?
“Josh!” Lucky yelled.
The hired muscle strode in. “Yes, sir?”
“Where’re my clothes?”
“I was instructed to tell you if you asked that you don’t need them. And that you’d get them back later.”
Fuck.
***
Lucky awoke to Nurse Andy standing over his bed.
“I know who you are, Agent Harrison. Or should I say Lucklighter?”
Oh shit. What was the point of witness protection if every damned person on the planet knew Lucky’s rea
l identity? He eyed the rolling bedside table for a weapon. No help there. Not even a bedpan to clobber the asshole with.
Damn housekeeping for taking his knife. Lucky inched close enough to grab the nurse call button if needed.
But it wasn’t himself he worried about. “How’d you get in here? Where’s Bo and Walter?” If the bastard so much as ruffled a hair on their heads… Pain and agony. And the bastard’s mangled corpse would never be found.
He’d work out details later on how to hurt the man without hurting himself.
What had Bo called the guard? “Josh? Josh!”
“I sent him home.” The world’s scariest nurse stuck his hand out. “Agent James Salters, Southeastern Narcotics Bureau, Division of Hospitals. Most folks call me Jimmy.”
“We have a Division of Hospitals? Not in Atlanta, we don’t.”
“I’m out of the Virginia office.”
“Prove it.” Lucky measured the distance from the bed to the door. Cut in half, gimpy ankle. Yeah, he didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of escape. Oh crap, and naked from the waist down. He pulled the bed covers tighter around his middle. He owed Bo big time for making off with his clothes.
Nurse Andy, Jimmy, or whoever pulled out his wallet and flashed a badge, very much like the one in Lucky’s wallet.
“Anybody can forge a badge.” Not well, but Lucky managed a passable copy to prove a point once.
The guy currently maintaining the upper hand pointed toward Lucky’s computer case. “You got a laptop right there. Check me out.”
Keeping a close eye on his visitor, Lucky followed the guy’s advice, but only because he wanted to anyway. Jimmy told the truth. An agent with three years’ time in. “Mind ‘splaining what’s going on?”
Nurse… Jimmy flipped a chair around backwards and dropped onto the wooden seat, arms folded on the back. “Probably all the better you don’t recall.”
“Why?”
Jimmy met and held Lucky’s gaze. “What do you know about Bristol Lucklighter?”
Lucky suspecting Bristol might be a felon and hearing proof from someone else were two different things. “He’s my brother, he’s an asshole, and he hates me.” Who didn’t? “What about him?”
“He left your room, and we had to jolt you full of naloxone. A few seconds more might’ve been too late.”
Good point. Lucky’d thank him later. Maybe. “What’d he give me?”
“Labs results came back an hour ago. Carfentanil. Thank God he’d over-diluted or nothing could have saved you.”
Carfentanil? Jeezus! Scary stuff.
“Yup, about ten thousand times more powerful than morphine. Powerful enough to tranquilize an elephant. Or to kill a man with a nearly invisible dosage.” For a moment Jimmy sounded like Bo, quoting a textbook. Newbies. “You’re only alive because whoever it was didn’t know what the hell they were doing.”
How had Lucky’s would-be killer gotten hold of something so powerful? “I still haven’t ruled you out.”
Jimmy brought his nose closer to Lucky’s, close enough to reveal a tiny scar on his chin. “I studied chemistry. I wouldn’t have made a mistake. But me knowing what the hell I’m doing, and being a ‘stalker’ as you said, saved your life. I was first on scene. It took five shots to get you stabilized, then I started naloxone in a drip.”
Not a bad idea, especially since Bo owed his life to the stuff capable of reversing an opioid overdose. Not that Lucky would tell Nurse… Jimmy.
So now both Lucky and Bo owed their lives to naloxone. “If you suspected Bristol, why haven’t you arrested him?” Bo would have mentioned Bristol being taken into custody, wouldn’t he?
“Ah, come on. You train agents. You know the answer.”
Duh. Yes, he did. All the meds must be cooking Lucky’s brain. “Because you need to establish a motive or find out if he’s working alone.”
“Bingo. And we need to find out where he got the drug.”
If Lucky’s brain wasn’t hurting so bad, he’d shake his head to knock loose the cobwebs. Too much info, too fast. “Wait a minute. Why were you watching me?”
Jimmy flashed a tense smile. “Wasn’t you I was watching, though I must admit, my target being related to the famous drug trafficker-turned-agent Lucky Lucklighter did kinda make me wonder.”
Lucky might as well tattoo his birth name on his forehead. “Bristol? What are you watching my brother for?”
“He’s been linked to a major drug trafficker. Um… besides you. And with his father checking into the hospital, I got assigned.”
Asswipe. But goody-two-shoes Bristol? “What you got so far? I checked him out earlier and couldn’t find anything.”
“You’re not in the office, so you don’t have full access, do you?” Oh, how Lucky itched to bitch slap the superior grin off Jimmy’s face.
No. He didn’t.
Jimmy took on an “all business” pose, face devoid of emotion, so much like Walter in interrogation mode. “Tell me about your brother. What kind of relationship do you have?”
To hell with this twenty questions shit. “I’m not telling you diddly squat. I answer to Walter Smith.”
“Why else would I be here? Seems he’s thorough, and he got around my alias. But I’d heard of his skills and yours. He contacted the office demanding answers, and here I am. So, stop stalling and talk. What about Bristol? What kind of relationship do you have?”
Hell, no. Not taking anyone’s word without proof. Lucky held up a finger, grabbed his phone to text Walter, and found a waiting text: Please cooperate with Agent Salters.
Damn it. Cooperating. Not Lucky’s strong suit. “We don’t. My family disowned me ages ago. They were told I died.”
“What were you two like before your arrest?”
Yeah, asshole. Remind me of my mistakes. “He pretty much hated me. Hated the whole family. Hated being poor.” Wasn’t much Bristol hadn’t hated but wealth, power, and his own self.
“So he liked money.”
“Yeah. The house. The car. High class girlfriends.” The drugs had to be keeping Lucky’s mind from working right. Oh, to have a clear head right now. “We need to check his financial records.”
“No. The bureau needs to check his financial records. You need to go home for your own safety. You’re on medical leave. This isn’t your case. I just needed information.”
Bristol. Damn, how he must’ve crowed the day the family shut the door on Lucky for good.
The day the family…
Oh shit.
“I need to talk to Walter. Now!” Lucky hit the call button on his phone.
***
“What did you remember?” Walter shuffled through the door about the time Jimmy got Lucky into a wheelchair for the long ride to freedom—courtesy of the faded blue sweat pants he’d paid another patient way too much for.
“Our… friends. They were checking on something for me. I need you to feed them the name Bristol Lucklighter. Where’s Bo?” Bo should be here. Lucky needed him.
“He’s still investigating a few leads.”
“But I’m going home, right? Ain’t he taking me?” Bo ought to be headed for home with Lucky.
Jimmy spoke up. “No. I’m driving you.”
“Now hold on one damned minute.” The guy hadn’t earned Lucky’s trust yet and likely never would.
Walter grabbed the back of Lucky’s wheelchair and started pushing. “Lucky, for once in your life, take an order and don’t question. James will escort you back home to Atlanta into Loretta Johnson’s care.”
“What the fuck?”
“Bristol has dangerous friends and may not be working alone, if indeed he’s behind the attack. Until we determine exactly who’s after you and why, you’re a target. The farther away you are, the better.” The boss managed to miss bumps better than the orderlies back at the hospital.
Looked like Lucky might get to know Jimmy better than he’d ever hoped to.
But at least Agent Jimmy beat Nurse Andy
.
Or did he?
***
“Are you comfortable? Need another pillow?”
A growl backed Jimmy away from fluffing the pillow behind Lucky’s head. “No and No.” Lucky might never be comfortable again, and one more pillow would crowd him out of the passenger seat of Jimmy’s car.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” Jimmy shut up long enough to trot around the hood and get in the car. “We should be there in about…”
Blah, blah, blah. There went Lucky’s hopes of a peaceful ride home. Just his luck to get stuck with an overly-eager talker.
“I owe you, you know.” A bit of Nurse Andy’s creepiness shone in Jimmy’s fan-boy smile.
The last time someone had said those words, they’d tried to kill Lucky. “Owe me what?”
To his credit, Jimmy finally started the vehicle and eased out of the parking lot. Goodbye, Magnolia Manor! “I owe you my freedom.”
“Your freedom.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy’s voice softened. “Several years back I got busted for pot. Not much, mind you, but enough to get me into some serious trouble.”
Of all the states to legalize weed, Virginia might be one of the last. “And?”
“And I nearly lost my nursing license. Then my current boss heard about the operations you pulled off in Georgia and gave me a chance to redeem myself. If it weren’t for you, that might never have happened. Then, thanks to both you and Agent Schollenberger, I got offered a permanent position once I’d done my time. Been with SNB ever since.”
Bo and Lucky paved the way for others? Who’d have thunk it?
“Anyway, I’d put in for undercover ops training with you down in Atlanta, but a slot hasn’t come up yet. And then what do you know? Here you come up this way.” Jimmy’s grin threatened to split his face. He gave a sheepish shrug. “Watching Bristol’s father kept me close enough to keep tabs on Bristol, though he didn’t visit much. I had no idea at the time that Simon Harrison and Lucky Lucklighter were one and the same. When a request came in for protection for a new patient, we discovered your link to my target.”
“A request? When? And whose request?”
“The day you checked in, and I don’t know who asked. Since I was already assigned to the hospital, switching over to you benefitted my case, since you and his… your father… were on the same floor.”