Reunion: Diversion Six

by Eden Winters

  Coward.

  Walter idly rubbed Moose’s head. When he stopped scratching, Moose head-butted his hand. Demanding cuss. Boss had probably spoiled the critter while pet sitting. “We have the reports, the video of your brother entering your room, and the evidence the Richmond office sought on his associates. An arrest warrant has been issued.”

  Bristol? About to be arrested? Lucky chewed his lower lip. “I want to be there.”

  His boss scowled. “You’re off duty, and this is a job for local law enforcement.”

  “But what if they screw up and he gets away?” All this time Lucky had been the black sheep, rotting away in prison when Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes deserved to be there too. But he’d better pay the piper now, and stay the hell away from Lucky’s nearest and dearest.

  “Have some faith.”

  Moose rolled over for a tummy rub.

  Bo strode into the living room, loaded down with coffee cups. The man still waited on Lucky hand and foot.

  Time for Lucky to work on being a better partner. “Thanks,” he said, prompting a double-take from Bo.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Thanks. Thanks for the coffee.”

  Bo kept suspicious eyes on Lucky. Yeah. Lucky had some groveling to do. Starting the moment he could move painlessly.

  “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you here? You could’ve called us.” Bo handed Walter a cup and settled next to Lucky on the couch.

  “One, to keep Lucky from finding a way to interfere with this case—”

  “Hey! Wait a darned minute.” It’d been Lucky’s case. Well, sorta. Being the victim counted, right?

  Bo glared Lucky’s way. “What’s two?”

  “I’m expecting word that Bristol Lucklighter has been taken into custody, and I believed this news best shared in person. After all, he is Lucky’s brother.” Walter patted the only dog in the neighborhood built in perfect proportion to his mass. “I also wanted to visit Moose. My wife and I became quite attached while he stayed with us.”

  Chiming sounded from the vicinity of Walter’s pants pocket, and he dug his cell phone out. “Walter Smith. Yes.” He eyed Lucky. Every bit of expression disappeared from his face. “Oh, I understand. No one else was involved?” Silence followed. “Yes, please do.”

  He hung up the phone, lips pursed. After a moment he rose, crossed the distance to the couch, and sank down beside Lucky.

  “He got away, didn’t he?” Lucky should’ve been there. Should’ve taken matters into his own hands.

  Walter placed his hand on Lucky’s. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Then what?” Why all the dramatics to say Bristol got arrested?

  “Officers knocked on his door to serve the warrant. There was no answer. They found the backdoor open, and your brother… well, they found your brother in the basement.”

  “And?”

  “Lucky, I’m afraid your brother is dead.”

  What the hell? “How?” Surely Lucky hadn’t woke up yet. This must be a dream. A horrible fucking dream. He didn’t like Bristol, but he’d never wanted him dead.

  “That’s for the coroner to decide. Suicide hasn’t been ruled out, nor has homicide. There are reasons to believe he didn’t die of natural causes.” Walter patted Lucky’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? Why don’t they think natural causes?” Bristol, three years younger than Lucky. Too young to die.

  “I wasn’t given full details. You heard a bit of the conversation.”

  Maybe boss told the truth, maybe he lied. Either way, nothing anyone said or did would change a thing.

  ***

  Who smacked him upside the head with a two by four? Lucky’s head spun. Mama. He should call Mama. And Charlotte. Make sure they were okay. But… They were home with Daddy, and Dad didn’t know about Lucky living and breathing yet. And until the coroner’s report came back, they might still be facing a homicide. Who’d want to kill Bristol? Was the rest of the family in danger? Fuck. Trust Walter to come in here, drop a bomb, then stroll back out. No, not fair. Boss man hadn’t known about Bristol’s death when he arrived.

  “Look, Lucky. I’m sorry about your brother.” Bo took the spot recently vacated by Walter and pulled Lucky toward him.

  “I’m not sure if I am or not. This is so fucked up.”

  Bo nodded. “I know. And it’s a lot to take in. But I’m here if you need to talk.”

  Talk. The last thing Lucky wanted right now. Maybe doing something normal might calm Lucky down. “C’mon, let’s get a bath.”

  Bo secured Lucky in a tighter embrace. “I’m not dirty.”

  “I can fix that.”

  Bo’s resigned sigh had to be a good thing, right? “Okay. A bath, nothing more.”

  Spoilsport.

  Bo fished their underwear out from under the couch and stepped toward the hallway. Lucky stopped him. “I’ll start the water.”

  Bo froze midmotion. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you doing it?”

  “Because I can and I want to.” Because it gives me something to do to keep my mind off Bristol, and it’s about time I started treating you right.

  But no. Bo ran when he most needed a hug, didn’t let Lucky help shoulder the burden. He wouldn’t do the same to Bo. “I’m worried. About you, the family. Gut instinct tells me we’re dealing with something much bigger than we ever imagined.”

  Bristol tried to kill Lucky. Had Lucky’s powerful friends played judge and jury?

  “You know I’m not at liberty to give you details of my case, but yes, I agree with you.” Bo stood by the couch, socks and boxers dangling from his hands.

  Lucky steadied himself with a hand on Bo’s arm and wriggled off the couch. “I don’t want you going back there.”

  “I have to.” Bo leaned down, pressing his forehead to Lucky’s.

  Lucky nodded. “I know you do. But I don’t have to like it. And I can’t stop worrying.”

  “I’ve gotten to know the crew at the Virginia office. They’re good agents.” One side of Bo’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Not as good as you, but they have my back, and I have theirs. Not only do I have a case to solve, I have teammates I can’t let down.”

  Oh hell. “You’re not planning on staying there after this is over, are you?” Surely Bo wouldn’t take the offer to turn his temporary assignment into a permanent one, as Walter had mentioned.

  “No. My life is here. With you. And I’m doing all I can to put the pieces together and come home. Where I belong.” Bo sealed his words with his lips over Lucky’s.

  Lucky’s throat burned. He blinked suddenly blurry eyes and ran his hand over Bo’s lightly stubbled cheek. “I—” No, words wouldn’t do. He’d have to show Bo how much he wanted him, needed him.

  Loved him.

  He rubbed his lips against Bo’s and trudged into the bathroom. Bending to start the water wasn’t too much of a problem, but lifting his arms over his head to remove his T-shirt still sent a twinge through the incision site.

  “Here. Allow me.” Bo rescued him from himself, making short work of the shirt. He’d already stripped off his own clothes, cheating Lucky out of the chance. No use grumbling. Not with a naked Bo around.

  Lucky ran his hand over Bo’s ass and laid his head on Bo’s chest. The scent of him, the scratch of his chest hair against Lucky’s face, the bunching of muscles beneath Lucky’s fingertips. He’d never get enough of this man.

  He turned the water off and arranged himself on the side of the tub—no getting his incision wet yet. Bo lowered himself into the water.

  Lucky explored his lover’s face with caresses and kisses. Sucked on an earlobe and the sensitive meeting point of Bo’s shoulder and neck.

  Bo moaned, but didn’t stop him. Lucky carried on, nibbling on Bo’s shoulders, working his way down to lightly bite the peaks of Bo’s nipples. Lower, and lower still, but the parts he wanted remained out of reach.

  “Sit on the s
ide,” Lucky urged.

  Bo did as told without arguing.

  Lucky turned off the water and got on his knees in the tub, with the water up to his thighs. He licked a path from Bo’s knees to his groin, pausing to discreetly scrub a hair off his tongue. And still Bo didn’t stop him. He tongued Bo’s balls. Damn, what a cock, hard and full, just the way Lucky liked.

  “You don’t have to do any more,” Bo murmured.

  “Yes, I do.” Lucky lowered Bo’s foreskin and licked the head of his lover’s cock. A single drop of fluid coated his tongue. Poor, neglected man. While Lucky had been in pain and unable to have sex, Bo had been healthy and doing without, with not a single word of complaint.

  He didn’t hurry, but took his time, pouring all he couldn’t say into the careful reverence of Bo’s erection, using his mouth, his hands, his breath.

  Bo bit his lips and rocked, but didn’t thrust, grasping the side of the tub in a white-knuckled grip.

  Lucky swiped his tongue around the sensitive glans, down the side, leaving no part of Bo’s flesh uncared for. Up and down he bobbed, the water sloshing around his thighs.

  Bo fell back against the wall and gripped the towel bar above his head.

  Lucky stroked himself.

  Eyes closed, head thrown back, Bo released the bar to cradle the back of Lucky’s head and silently urge him on.

  Lucky put his all into loving Bo, expressing his appreciation for his man with every tongue stroke.

  And increased the pace of his hand.

  Bo lost the battle not to thrust. He arched up, muscles straining. “Ah… Ah…” The back of his head hit the wall the moment he let go, filling Lucky’s mouth.

  And damned if Bo’s coming didn’t tip Lucky over the edge.

  Lucky tensed, any second now. Oh, one second more… He jerked, warm fluid coating his fingers as he came. And came. And came. So fucking good. He toppled onto Bo, totally winded, and buried his face in Bo’s neck. Laughter escaped him.

  “What’s so funny?” Bo lifted Lucky’s chin with two fingers.

  “Nothing. Everything.” How to explain the joy of life, of looking the grim reaper in the eye so many times and walking away? The total absurdity of the past few weeks. Too much to take.

  The laugher grew harsher, more of a cry. Lucky held Bo, sobbing. Bristol. Why? He might have been an asshole, he might have tried to kill Lucky, but he’d been kin. Lucky’s brother. God, it hurt.

  “Shh…” Bo held him, wrapped Lucky in comfort he didn’t deserve and never wanted to live without.

  He cried for his parents, who’d lost a son, for his other brothers and sister. For his grandparents. They shunned him, sure. But they weren’t bad people. And they’d lost one of their own. No telling how yet.

  Bo ran a wet washcloth over Lucky’s skin, staying away from his abdomen, washing him, caring for him. Lastly, he washed the salt and tears from Lucky’s face, kissed him. Let him know without words, I’m here for you.

  The water cooled. Lucky shivered.

  “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” Bo reached beneath Lucky’s armpits and lifted.

  They toweled off and wound up in the bedroom. Lucky sank down onto the bed.

  Bo remained standing. “I need to get packed if I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  I don’t need reminding. Lucky batted his eyes. “You keep telling me to rest, right? I’ll sleep better with you beside me. We’ll worry about the morning when it gets here.”

  “Oh, all right. But take your medicine.”

  Lucky lay on the bed, Bo in his arms. He woke up long enough to down a sandwich and watch a few episodes of South Bend Springs with Bo.

  Today. He had today.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Lucky waited until Bo started snoring to wriggle out from under his arm and slip from the room. He settled on the back deck, Moose playing footstool, and texted: Charlotte?

  I’m here. Barely.

  How could he say this? Are you okay? Are Mom and Dad okay?

  Lucky stared at his phone’s screen. Seconds stretched into minutes. Too many minutes. Maybe Charlotte went to sleep.

  Lucky nearly dropped his buzzing phone before managing to answer the call. “H… Hello?”

  “We talk on the phone now, Rich. I’m numb, Mom’s doing as well as can be expected and putting on a front ‘because we haven’t told Dad, Dallas, or Daytona about Bristol yet.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? You didn’t put a gun to Bristol’s head and make him do illegal shit.”

  Anger. Loud and clear. Lucky’s therapist once told him about the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The venom in Charlotte’s voice said she’d passed denial a few miles back.

  “Still, I’m sorry. I’ve given y’all nothing but grief. At least you had a few good years with him.”

  “Bullshit. Do you have any idea how much my boys look up to you? You’ve accomplished more starting with less than anyone I know. Less support, less understanding. You’ve built yourself when no one ever even mentioned there were building blocks.” More softly, she said, “Just knowing you’re there and have my back is helping me get through this. Mom too.”

  “Reckon I should talk to her?”

  “She’s still in denial. The doctor prescribed sedatives for her. I’d wait a few days.”

  “I want her to know I love her. Daddy too. I’m here for them.” Or as much as they’d let him be.

  “She knows, Rich. She knows. But no mother should ever have to lose a kid. She’s taking it hard, as she did when we got word about you.”

  Ouch. More deserved guilt. “Will you let me know if she needs anything? If you need anything?”

  “You gave us Daddy, that’s enough.”

  “Still, I wish I was there.” If Bo and Walter let him he’d haul ass right now.

  “Me too, Rich. I’m sure there’s things I’m not allowed to know yet, but you’ll get the whole story, won’t you?”

  “I’ll do my damnedest.”

  “And your damnedest beats anyone else’s. I love you, brother. I’m so glad I can say that out loud, and not in a text or e-mail.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Goodnight. Get some rest.”

  Lucky gazed up at the stars and breathed in the night air. Soon summer would bring heat and mosquitos. And hopefully, a day for reckoning for whoever supplied Bristol with carfentanil.

  He couldn’t be with his parents right now, or the rest of his family, but the family he’d chosen for himself lay asleep inside the house.

  Too late to be a better son or brother. Not too late to be a good partner.

  ***

  “What are you doing?” Did Bo realize how adorable he looked, partially covered by a sheet and rubbing sleep from his eyes?

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Lucky sat the tray on the nightstand. He’d gotten the toast a bit dark, but blackberry jam hid the worst of the burn.

  “You made me breakfast?”

  “Yep.” Even if he’d gotten tea leaves all over the kitchen floor trying to shove them into one of those little tea ball thingies. Breakfast didn’t require grilling outside and amounted to pretty much all Lucky’d learned to cook indoors.

  “You didn’t have to. You should be lying in bed with me taking care of you. How’re you feeling?” Bo ran his fingers lightly up Lucky’s T-shirt, over the spot where he’d been cut open.

  Bo had The Dimple, Lucky had The Scar. “All right, I reckon. Now hush and eat, ‘fore it gets cold.”

  Bo eyed the tray and then Lucky. “What did you do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why’re you trying to butter me up?”

  Oh! What a great idea. Butter. Or cooking oil. He’d soak Bo until his skin gleamed…

  “Lucky? Your mind plunged into the gutter, didn’t it?”

  Ever since he’d healed enough to consider sex, Lucky’s mind stayed in the gutter. “But butter might be fun.�
�

  “Yeah, and hell to wash out of the sheets. So, if you don’t have ulterior motives, I guess it’s okay to eat this.” Bo propped his back against the headboard, placed the tray on his knees, and took a bite of scrambled eggs. “Oh, this is good. Where’s yours?”

  “I ate mine while cooking.” And to destroy the evidence of a few scorched eggs. Okay, more than a few, but nothing destroyed food evidence like their own personal four-legged garbage disposal. Thank God Lucky got the severely burnt toast out in the backyard without setting off the smoke alarm.

  Bo tucking in did Lucky’s heart good. How many times had Bo served him breakfast in bed, and yet this was the first time Bo got the same treatment?

  Not anymore. Did the desire to please his partner mean Lucky had to be all sunshine and rainbows? No. And he’d never been anyone’s idea of perfect—not even close. But he could try harder.

  Bo moaned while munching the toast and jam, doing things to Lucky’s insides.

  And his outsides. One part in particular. If Bo licked his finger one more time…

  He did, flashing a coy smile. Oh. The tease.

  Lucky grabbed the tray and lobbed it toward the bedside table. They both winced at the crash when he missed. He’d worry about broken dishes later. About time they got rid of the “yours, mine, and ours” dinnerware anyway.

  He crawled on top of Bo.

  “Watch out for your incision.”

  Lucky slammed his mouth down on Bo’s and stopped. No. This wasn’t going to be some whiz, whirr, thank you, sir. He pulled back enough to connect his gaze to Bo’s. He’d fallen into those brown eyes long ago, though he hadn’t even realized at the time he’d never want to escape.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this? I mean, we went two rounds last night, and I need to head back to Richmond today.” Bo stroked his knuckles along Lucky’s jaw.

  Don’t go noble on me now, Bo. Lucky pasted on a grin and thrust his hardening cock against Bo’s thigh. “What does the evidence tell you?”

  Bo connected their lips again. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he mumbled without breaking lip contact.

  “So I am.” And Lucky would try his damnedest to get his T-shirt up and cut-off blue jeans shorts down and off without ending the kiss.