by Eden Winters
“Sit.” O’Donoghue waved a hand toward a chair, but not Lucky’s favorite, rounded the desk, and collapsed into a much nicer chair—nicer even than the one the boss used to sit in. Maybe when this jerkface went out to lunch one day, Lucky ought to swap the cushy chair with the Hell Bitch.
Jerkface. Ha! He’d been watching too many teen shows lately.
Lucky sat stiffly. If the man suspended or even fired him for hitting Keith, he’d have no regrets. Keith could press charges, but with the witnesses on Lucky’s side… Besides, the SNB preferred to deal with their own internal squabbles and not involve outside forces.
“First off,” O’Donoghue began, “I want to say how sorry I am about Walter Smith. I know you were close.”
Imagining Bo’s goading about manners, Lucky replied, “Thank you.” That should make Bo happy, right?
“You really shouldn’t go around hitting people, unless it’s in a boxing ring.” O’Donoghue reclined in his chair. Oh, yeah. He’d be on the floor by now if he tried that move with the chair from Hell. Too bad Lucky wasn’t on better terms with the surveillance department. He’d pay good money to see this arrogant bastard windmilling his arms and going splat.
Lucky remained quiet. Keith should’ve known better than to speak ill of the boss.
“Because I know how distraught you are, I’m giving you a pass on the assault back there.” O’Donoghue sat up and plucked a pen off the desk. Twirling the pen, he studied Lucky. “What? No answer? Normally, there’s no shutting you up.”
More than likely Lucky’s eyes were rimmed in red. He never should have broken down in front of the likes of Keith. “I don’t have anything else to say.” He tried to picture Walter in the chair, his kindly eyes, his deep voice, but O’Donoghue chased away the memories.
“I’ll keep you in here a few minutes, let those who think I’m consoling you get their fill, and giving those who think I’m ripping you a new asshole time to gloat.” He leaned over the desk, fixing his gaze to Lucky’s. “Make no mistake, I’m giving you a pass this time, but that’s all you’re getting from me. I’ve been watching you, know how close to the line you like to operate, but I will not, I repeat, will not allow your lack of discipline to reflect on the rest of this department. Do I make myself clear?”
Lucky swallowed the Walter-sized lump in his throat. “Yessir.”
“Good. Now go. I’m sure Johnson, Schollenberger, and that little receptionist are beside themselves with worry.”
Little receptionist? “Lisa,” Lucky growled.
“What?”
“Lisa. Her name isn’t ‘receptionist’, it’s Lisa.” She was married, had a kid, and volunteered at the animal shelter where Lucky found Moose, things Lucky wouldn’t have known or cared about before meeting Bo.
“Adding to your little band of followers, are you?” O’Donoghue narrowed his eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re even talking about,” Lucky recovered enough to toss back. “But the woman has a name. Lisa. She’s broken up about the boss. At least pretend to have some sympathy.”
Lucky stood and fled out the door before O’Donoghue could get the last word in.
***
Lucky sat at Walter’s bedside, holding the man’s age-spotted hand. “Boss, you gotta come back. O’Donoghue’s strutting around like he owns the place, Lisa keeps asking about you then breaking down in tears.” He’d joined her on more than one occasion and might start again real soon. Heavy weight settled in his chest.
“I miss you, old man.” Nothing answered but the beeps, whirs, and swooshes of the machinery hooked up to his mentor. “Ya know, I don’t think I ever told you thanks for giving me a chance all those years ago when you busted me out of prison and made me work for you.” Oh, how Lucky had cursed, rebelled against the man who’d held his freedom in one massive palm.
How different life would have turned out if Walter hadn’t entered the picture. Lucky would have done eight more years in prison for his role in Victor Mangiardi’s drug empire, probably come out a whole lot more jaded.
He wouldn’t have met Bo. Wouldn’t have been there when Bo needed him.
He rubbed his finger lightly over the back of Walter’s free hand—the one not stuck with an IV needle.
At what point in the relationship had he started to trust? Certainly not in the beginning, when the guards had taken him to the waiting room, telling him he had a visitor.
No one had visited him in prison but Charlotte. All of a sudden, a grizzly bear of a man appeared on the other side of the glass, making promises to get Lucky out.
He could’ve offered anything and Lucky would’ve accepted. Small men like him didn’t last well behind bars, without constantly fighting and building a tough reputation. While he’d held his own, every new guy brought in wanted to take the cocky bantam rooster down a notch, or thought Lucky’s size meant he could be easily owned.
They’d learned better real fast.
Still, the lack of freedom, the need to run from himself, had made him antsy. He’d figured he’d take the offer to work off his remaining eight years as a consultant in some cushy office, then get the hell out.
He’d never expected his attitude to change so much.
Making off with trucks full of pharmaceuticals to resell on the black market had kept him in Rolexes and sports cars, fancy restaurants and clubs. He’d enjoyed every minute of being spoiled by his drug lord lover.
Then he’d strolled into a filthy inner-city apartment and witnessed a man battling back hysterics while trying to calm three pitifully dressed kids.
His girlfriend lay on the floor, not even thirty years old, blue tinges to her skin. “Mama? Mama!” the toddler had cried, pulling on the dead woman’s jeans as she stared at nothing.
Three kids, who’d never get their mother’s kisses, stories before bedtime, comfort for a skinned knee.
Her life gone, her family’s changed forever. For what?
He might not have sold her the drugs, but he’d spent years of his life taking medicines meant to ease suffering from folks who needed them and putting them into the hands of abusers, like the young mother.
Whatever had become of the kids? What if they’d been Todd and Ty?
Walter took a chance on him, gave him the opportunity to make up for past misdeeds and do a little good in the world.
Keith claimed Lucky wouldn’t have a job without Walter, and likely O’Donoghue thought the same.
“I’ll show them,” Lucky muttered. “I’ll show them all.”
In the back of his mind, Walter replied, “I know you will.”
***
Lucky glanced over at Bo’s desk. Empty. Johnson ambled down the hall, a coffee cup in each hand.
“Is it just me,” she said, “or is O’Donoghue separating me, you, and Bo deliberately?” She handed Lucky a cup.
Yes, Lucky had noticed how much time Bo spent outside the office, and though he didn’t keep as close tabs on Johnson, she didn’t come around as readily as she used to. “It’s not just you.”
The blame fell squarely on O’Donoghue’s shoulders. Cases that would normally have gone to Lucky were now divided among other agents.
He spent his time trolling the Internet for offers of cheap drugs from Canada or some such rookie work. They paid him good money to work below his paygrade. He hadn’t been assigned to any of the training duties he’d been promoted to.
All because of…
Lucky took a deep breath and exhaled hard. “Let me ask you something. Is there anything about Chastain Pharmaceuticals that struck you as wrong?”
Johnson shook her head. “No. We went down the checklist and added a few stricter requirements. Besides, you’ve done similar audits for years. You knew what you were doing.”
Did he? If he missed something as big as an illegal shipment, no matter how small, he’d fucked up, big time. Not that he’d say so out loud.
“You’re not questioning yourself, are you? Because Bo and I have comple
te faith in you.”
“If we didn’t screw up, then what went wrong?” He’d staked his reputation, and possibly his career, on searching out any potential trouble spots.
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” Johnson blew into her cup.
The asshole who thought he was in charge could’ve made up the whole thing. He certainly had the opportunity. “I don’t trust O’Donoghue. He’s surrounding himself with his lackeys.” Oh. Johnson’s poor excuse for a boyfriend was the man’s number one flunky. Lucky winced. “Sorry.”
Johnson waved a dismissive hand. “Just because I happen to be dating one of those lackies doesn’t make anything you said less true.”
“Does Phillip… Um… say anything when you’re, you know…” At best she might deck him for asking a personal question, at worse she might tell him way too much information.
She pursed her lips worthy of a bite into a lemon. “No, damn it. And that’s the thing. Lately he refuses to talk work on personal time, and that really bugs me. He’s never been tight lipped before. He’s making me suspicious.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not the type to do his own thinking. When he does talk he sounds like he’s parroting someone else’s words.” She shifted her gaze left and right and whispered, “He’s hanging out a lot with Owen Landry too. That guy’s a weasel if ever I met one.”
Really? She, Bo, and Landry had trained together, gone on assignments. “What was he like when you first met him?”
“Same as now. A butt kisser. He comes on to anything with two legs too. Not that it gets him anywhere.” Nobody did smug like Johnson. “Kept trying to come between me and Phillip, and I know he tried to get between you and Bo.”
“I thought so. Bo told me I was imagining things.”
“Bo likes to keep the peace. That man of yours can more than handle himself, even if his methods are different from yours and mine.”
True. “He tried with you?”
She patted her hair, worn natural and poufy. “He’s trying to build a power base. For that you need followers. He might impress Phillip, but not me.”
Lucky shook his head. “What do you see in Phillip anyway?” She could do so much better than O’Donoghue’s pet DEA rookie. Anyone who paid attention to Owen Landry wasn’t too bright.
A flush crept up her cheeks. “Let’s just say it’s not due to his stunning intellect and leave it at that.”
Asshole must be doing something really right for a take charge woman like Johnson to keep him around. And no, Lucky didn’t need visuals.
“How’s things with Ty and Todd?” She paused to sip her coffee.
So, she didn’t want to talk about Phillip. Maybe the relationship wasn’t as solid as she liked. “They’re fine. Ty still doesn’t speak much to me, but I’ve managed to get him and Todd off the couch occasionally to go help out at the Smiths’. He’s starting to make friends at school, I think.”
“Give him time. How about you and Bo? Things going good on the home front? Need me to take the guys and give the two of you some more time alone?” She waggled her brows.
Before Lucky could answer, Lisa appeared by the cube. “There you are! I’m sorry, Loretta, but Mr. O’Donoghue would like to see you in hi… in Walter’s office.”
Johnson rolled her eyes. “Duty calls.” She saluted Lucky with her cup and followed Lisa down the hall.
***
Lucky hadn’t set foot in Walter’s office nearly as much before O’Donoghue’s arrival. He pushed his way through the door and plunked down in… No, not his usual chair. And that wasn’t Walter’s usual desk. O’Donoghue ordered all new furniture?
Why had the keepers of the SNB’s notoriously tight purse strings allowed the expense? When had anyone had the time to bring in new furniture? He’d only left this office a sort time ago.
He wiped the surprise off his face. “You wanted to see me?”
O’Donoghue fixed Lucky with a beady-eyed gaze. “I’ll get right to the point. It’s come to my attention that you and Agent Schollenberger are in a relationship outside of work.”
Lucky swallowed hard. What the ever-loving hell? “What I do on my own time is none of your business.”
“It is if you’re in violation of the bureau’s anti-fraternization policy.”
Lucky braced for a fight. How had this jerk found out? Oh. The photos. The van. What business did he have meddling in Bo and Lucky’s personal lives? “Walter Smith knew all about it. Said we’d done nothing wrong. Technically, Bo and I were seeing each other before Simon Harrison even existed.”
“I’m afraid he may have overstepped. An ethics committee is reviewing your case.”
What? “Now see here…” Lucky leapt to his feet. “Who gave you the right to sneak around taking pictures—”
O’Donoghue cut Lucky off with a raised hand. “If and when they decide you’re noncompliant, one of you will have to leave.”
Lucky’s blood froze in his veins. At one time he’d happily have gone skipping out the door, but only on his own terms. “Leave the department?” Sure, he’d been in Diversion Prevention and Control since his arrival at the SNB, but there were other areas he could transfer to.
“No, leave the bureau.”
Walter had mentioned a married couple working here, and Phillip and Johnson were involved, though technically they worked for separate organizations, Phillip for DEA and Johnson for SNB. They still could create the kind of conflict of interest the policy supposedly prevented. “What about…”
“That will be all, Mr. Harrison.”
Lucky staggered out into the hallway. Johnson strode by. He grabbed her by both arms. “You met with O’Donoghue earlier, didn’t you?” He narrowed his eyes.
“You know I did.”
“Did you tell him about me and Bo?”
“No! But it’s not like a great big secret.”
Especially not if someone took pictures of him and Bo after their last counseling appointments.
Still, he’d been summoned to Walter’s office right after Johnson. Coincidence? To Lucky’s knowledge, coincidences usually had some thought behind them.
Had Johnson really spilled Lucky’s business to the wannabe boss? Had he misplaced his trust in her? One way to find out. He tossed out the first lie he could think of. “Did Bo tell you he’s been thinking of putting in for a transfer to the Virginia office?” He spun on his heels and fled, lest he trust her too much again.
***
The next conversation with O’Donoghue included, “If Schollenberger wants a transfer…”
Fuck. Johnson hadn’t even waited five minutes before she’d run to O’Donoghue with Lucky’s lie, had she?
***
“I’m telling you, she went straight to the sonofabitch and told him what I said!” Lucky lay on his side of the bed. Arguments weren’t conducive to cuddling. Why wouldn’t Bo believe him?
Bo remained silent for a moment before answering, “Are you saying you want me to transfer?”
“What? Oh, hell no. It’s all I could think of at the moment. I could have said anything and she’d have gone running to Fuckwad O’Donoghue.”
Bo kept his voice annoyingly calm. “She’s your friend, Lucky. My friend. She’s also not an O’Donoghue fan. Are you sure someone else didn’t walk by and hear you?”
“No one did. It was just me and her. Not an hour later O’Donoghue wanted to talk and fed me my own lie.”
Bo lay on his side, propped up on one arm. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
Chapter Nine
“Come in, sit down.” O’Donoghue waved Lucky in. As if he needed an invite to park his ass in his own butt print. He lugged in the favorite chair he’d found in a store room. The chair belonged to Lucky, and in Walter’s office. Only, he should be here talking to Walter.
Instead, Walter lay in a hospital bed, unconscious. Lucky glanced at the floor, where he’d seen Walter lying so still, lips blue, heart failing. He shook himself. No time
to worry now, when facing a man who definitely didn’t have the bureau’s best interests at heart.
O’Donoghue raised his brows at the chair but said nothing, sitting behind the brand-new desk, a laptop in front of him, along with a can of ink pens and a coffee cup. Nothing else. No paper mounds. No files. All signs of Walter were gone, like he’d never even been there.
Out of the office two weeks and already this opportunistic bastard moved in. Well, he’d better not get too comfortable, because Walter would be back. If and when he chose to retire, it’d be someone from the SNB replacing him, not Jameson Fucking O’Donoghue.
The moment the boss got back, O’Donoghue better get his ass back to his own borrowed office. Or better yet, go back to Assholeville or wherever else he came from.
“You wanted to see me.” A statement, not the question Lucky would have asked Walter. He sprawled in the chair. Maybe a man who prided himself on reading body language might take Lucky’s slouch and crossed arms for, “Spit it out, you insignificant moron. Quit wasting my time.”
O’Donoghue tutted. “Harrison, what am I going to do with you?”
Not a damned thing. Not even with someone else’s dick. Lucky didn’t give the jerk the dignity of a spoken reply.
The man who’d never boss Lucky tapped a finger against his laptop, much as Walter might have done to the stack of folders normally piled to a toppling threat on his desk. “At one time, you were the best agent in the department.”
“Still am.” Always would be. Except maybe for Bo. And possibly Johnson. One day. Whatever the poser alluded to on the laptop changed nothing.
“I’m afraid Walter’s affection for you might have blinded him to a few oversights.”
“What oversights?” Lucky might not be sure of much in the world, but he’d damned sure crossed the T’s and dotted the I’s at work.
Sort of.
O’Donoghue waved his hand toward the laptop screen. “Now don’t get me wrong, we appreciate the excellent work you’ve done for us in the past, especially under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Us?
The man who’d never fill Walter’s barge-sized shoes gave Lucky a bland expression, tinges of his New York beat cop accent bleeding through his otherwise controlled tones. “Your felony conviction. Walter took a big chance recruiting you, even challenging his superiors.”