Suspicion (Diversion Book 7)

by Eden Winters

  “That’s the weird thing.” Bo took one hand off the steering wheel and rubbed his neck. “He never said anything worthwhile, really. Talked baseball, gossiped about coworkers, that sort of thing. He did drop hints about whether or not I planned to transfer, but I left him hanging. I learned crapspeak from the best. He’s probably just now figuring out that I never answered him.”

  “What time did you go?” Sneaky suspicion happening in five, four, three…

  “Eleven thirty? Why?”

  Just in time to get Bo away while O’Donoghue steamrolled Lucky.

  Divide and conquer.

  Chapter Ten

  “What the fuck do you want?” Lucky slammed his laptop closed. Nothing exciting on the screen, but he still wasn’t sharing with the jerkoff grinning like an idiot who’d dared invade his cube.

  “Jameson wants you to send me all the rookie files. I’m taking over their training.” Owen Landry showed far too many teeth.

  Removing some of them with a fist might be good stress relief, but Lucky controlled himself.

  For now. Lucky gave his best “Duh” look. “They’re where they always are, on the department drive under Training Records. You know, T-R-A-I—”

  “I know how to spell, asshole. I’m just letting you know I’m taking over,” Landry snapped.

  “So I’ve already been told.” If only Lucky’s laser beam glare actually burned things to a cinder…

  “I told you your days were numbered.”

  Lucky put on a serious face. “Let me ask you something. I’m dying to know.”

  Landry frowned and took the bait. “What?”

  “You’re so far up O’Donoghue’s ass, how far do you fly when he farts?”

  Landry stormed down the hall.

  Heh. At least Lucky got in the last word.

  Little good it did.

  ***

  Lucky shoved his laptop into his computer bag, though why he needed to take work home over a weekend he had no idea. It wasn’t like his current duties amounted to much.

  Rookies averted their gazes and darted out of his way when he shouldered his bag and slunk to the elevator, which wasn’t unusual. At least he got his own car today and didn’t have to wait for Bo to get back.

  His phone chimed on the way down. It had better not be O’Donoghue.

  Instead, a text from Bo said, “Come by Spencer’s Bar.”

  Lucky drove to one of the less popular areas of Atlanta, found a not-too-terribly-seedy parking garage, and trudged down the ramp toward his destination. Wow. He hadn’t been here in a while, but when Bo called, Lucky came running.

  And the guy knew it.

  No telling what kind of case brought Bo here. At least the place wasn’t a strip club. With every little thing chipping away at Lucky’s ego, he didn’t need to watch a bunch of men drooling over his nearly-naked lover. Successful men. In business suits. Fantasizing about the lover who said no to being his husband.

  Lucky paused at the mouth of the alley beside the building. The last time he’d been here he’d played cop and perp while Bo trained for undercover work. He’d learned well. Too well. Lucky missed the lessons.

  He rearranged his swelling cock at the memory.

  A light flickered at the end of the alley. Probably some drunk slipped out the back door to fire up a joint. No point in having one if he didn’t flash his badge now and then. Busting someone might help him feel more like his old self.

  He patted the spot where his gun should be. Crap. He hadn’t brought his shoulder holster. Best to go inside and forget he saw anything—or alert Atlanta’s finest.

  “What are you waiting for?” came a soft voice from the darkness.

  Lucky squinted at the gloom. “Bo? What are you doing back here?” He hadn’t ambushed Bo in years, but nothing said Bo couldn’t get some payback.

  One careful footstep at a time, Lucky trudged down the alley. No sound. No more glimmer from a cigarette lighter.

  “Bo?” He’d nearly reached the end of the alley.

  Nothing. Not that he’d hear anything over the off-beat thumpa-thumpa reverberating from the bar. The inner gut feeling he’d come to rely on said he wasn’t alone, and he hadn’t imagined Bo’s voice.

  “Bo?”

  Hands on him, slamming him face-first against a brick wall. “Oof!” A tight grip on his wrist forced his arm up, and a muscled chest against his upper back kept him firmly in place.

  “What the fuck?” Just wait until he got loose!

  Snick. Cold metal bit his wrist. He struggled, but his assailant held tight. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why had he let his guard down?

  Metal clicked around his other wrist. Two sets of handcuffs. The guy somehow fastened the cuffs over his head and to the side, keeping him stretched out.

  He felt for the nails holding the cuffs. One quick jerk and he’d be free. Either he dealt with total incompetence, or the person didn’t want him too tied up.

  Warm breath caressed his ear. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to scream my name. Anything you say can and will be used to get you off.”

  Oh God. Bo. Trapping him, helpless, in an alley. Bringing Lucky’s fantasies to reality, along with Bo’s kink for outdoors sex. He’d neglected Bo terribly.

  “You don’t like restraints.” Call him a killjoy, but his pleasure at Bo’s expense wouldn’t work. Man, Bo was really getting into this handcuff thing. Should Lucky be worried?

  “I’m okay.” Bo chuckled. “In fact, I like having you at my mercy. And you like it, right?”

  “Run your hands down the front of my jeans and you wouldn’t have to ask.” Lucky pushed into Bo’s palm when he took Lucky up on his suggestion.

  This time, Bo barked a full-blown laugh. “You might like it some, I reckon.”

  The time for laughter ended. Bo grabbed Lucky’s T-shirt by the shoulders and yanked.

  Riiiip! Was this Bo’s way of getting rid of any of Lucky’s shirts he didn’t like? “Oh, hell yeah,” Lucky cried out. “Give it to me rough.” If Bo kept ripping up his shirts, he’d soon be forced to wear the official SNB uniform, ‘cause he’d have nothing else left.

  Which might be the plan.

  Bo traced his tongue up the shell of Lucky’s ear. “Have I ever denied you anything?”

  “No.” Not exactly true. “Well, except for caffeine, sugar, and bacon.”

  “I think we’ve already established that sex is better than bacon.” Bo proved his point, snaking a hand around Lucky’s body, fingers splayed, searing wherever he caressed.

  One million years. Two million. Lucky would never get tired of Bo’s touch.

  Yes, sex with Bo beat the hell out of bacon.

  Plastering himself to Lucky’s back, Bo put his hand to good use, inching his fingers down to undo Lucky’s jeans and slide the denim down.

  Cool air brushed Lucky’s bare ass.

  For a moment only.

  Even the pounding rhythm from the club didn’t mask the Zzzzzip! of Bo’s zipper. He breached Lucky’s opening with slick fingers, working him, loosening him.

  Lucky gave up on wondering how Bo magically conjured lube during sex and simply rolled with it. Chalk another thing up to Bo’s efficiency.

  Felt too good to question.

  The riiiiiip of tearing cellophane got his attention. Why? They’d been through this.

  Oh well, this was Bo’s fantasy too.

  Warm lips on his neck. A hand grasping his hip. Bo sliding the head of his cock in the cleft of Lucky’s ass, pushing, pushing. Nothing else mattered but Bo against his back.

  In. Barely. Bo held still, panting against Lucky’s neck. “You okay?”

  Other than his arms going a bit numb, Lucky was in Heaven. “Oh, yeah.”

  He breathed through the brief painful flare, clenching his teeth. Gradually the pressure eased, giving way to the sheer ecstasy of his lover sliding in farther, and farther still.

  Any moment someone might step out of the back of the club and catch
them. Lucky couldn’t give a damn. Not when Bo shoved into him again and again, gripping his hips tight enough to leave bruises. Rough. He got rough because Lucky liked rough. Bo stepped out of his comfort zone and restrained Lucky because Lucky liked it.

  Did his best to give Lucky whatever he needed.

  They’d talk about this later.

  Lucky shoved back, slamming Bo into him. “Damn, yeah. Fuck me! Harder!” He impaled himself on Bo’s cock as much as the handcuffs allowed.

  Fuck yeah! Pressure began in his groin, building, building.

  “You feel so good,” Bo panted into his ear.

  Bo released his hips, wrapped both arms around Lucky, and held him tight. He bit the base of Lucky’s neck and tongued the side of his throat.

  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

  Lucky chased the glorious feeling of Bo inside of him, angling so Bo’s cock connected with his prostate. He gripped the handcuff chains, arching up to meet each stroke.

  The two of them. Always the two of them.

  At the moment, they were one, breathing in harmony, bodies in tune. Bo’s desperate gasps matched Lucky’s own.

  Harder and faster they loved. Hands, mouths, cocks, the rough brick abrading Lucky’s chest.

  “Lucky!” Bo hissed. He took one final lunge and held, deeply buried inside Lucky.

  Didn’t his name on Bo’s lips push Lucky right over the edge? Both fire and chills ran through him, zinging through his nerves. Droplets of cum hit the wall in front of him and he cried out, swaying back against Bo and yanking on the cuffs.

  Bo melded to his back, Lucky panted, gulping in air.

  Damn. That was just… damn.

  Bo brushed a kiss on the back of Lucky’s neck and retreated, taking his heat with him.

  In a daze Lucky fought to remain upright when Bo put his clothes to rights and removed the handcuffs. He kissed each wrist and caressed the abraded skin. “You okay?”

  Lucky froze. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Bo redid his pants, pushing what had to be a paper towel-wrapped condom into his pocket, slung an arm around Lucky’s shoulder, and led him out of the alley and through the parking garage to Lucky’s Camaro. He handed Lucky what remained of his shirt. “Sorry ‘bout that. I got carried away.”

  Lucky arranged the ripped cloth over his torso the best he could. “I like you getting carried away.” He glanced around. “Where’s the Durango?”

  “I had Loretta drop me off. Ty’s studying at a friend’s house, and Todd’s helping Rett put together a bookcase. They won’t be back until late.” A street light’s glow showed Bo’s grin. “Just us grownups. Whatever shall we do?”

  Lucky shot Bo some side eye. “If the house is empty, why didn’t we go there?”

  “You griping?”

  Um, yeah. What a stupid thing to do after getting his brains screwed out. “Not in the least.”

  “We’re not finished yet.” Bo rounded the hood and got in the passenger side of the vehicle while Lucky took his place behind the wheel.

  “We’re not?” No complaining, but if they went a second round they’d have to switch up. Lucky would be feeling tonight for a while. He paid at the window and drove out of the parking garage.

  “No. Turn left at the intersection.”

  Bo limited his speech to “right” and “left” and “right here” until they pulled up at a café that, while not exactly sleazy, had probably seen its share of late-night folks sporting the freshly fucked look. The ghosts of greasy burgers hung heavy in the air.

  Lucky’s kind of place.

  They settled away from the door and ordered breakfast for dinner, then took turns cleaning up in the tiny one-stall bathroom.

  Oh. So that was why Bo wore a condom. Easier cleanup.

  Bo settled against the tattered backrest of their booth. “Now.” He locked gazes with Lucky. “You’re going to tell me what’s wrong, start to finish, and leave nothing out.”

  “Bo, there’s noth—”

  Chin up, eyes narrowed. Bo in full inquisitor mode. “That wasn’t a question or a request. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. You’re hurting, and I have a feeling from more than just Walter’s sudden illness.”

  Lucky hung his head. Hard keeping secrets from someone who saw right through him. “I don’t want to drag you into this.”

  Bo reached across the table and clasped Lucky’s hand. “I love you. Whatever it is, I’m already in it up to my ass.”

  “And what a nice ass it is.” Lucky attempted a smirk and probably missed by a mile.

  Bo’s left eyebrow arched up toward his hairline, and he drummed the fingers of his free hand on the table. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Damn.”

  “Stop stalling, or you’re showering alone for a month.”

  Lucky’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, not fair. You fight dirty.”

  With a leer and a shrug, Bo replied, “I do what I have to.”

  Lucky could have hugged the waiter who showed up with their meals, even if he did purse his lips and give Lucky the hairy eyeball about what was left of his shirt. The moment the man left Lucky tucked into scrambled eggs. Hey, no talking with his mouth full, right?

  Bo stirred blueberries into his oatmeal. Oatmeal. Yuck. Not without a court order.

  Lucky finished the eggs, bringing an end to his excuse not to answer. “If you just wanted to talk, why go through all this trouble?”

  Bo ticked off points on his fingers. “One. I love you and want to make sure you don’t forget. Two. You get freaked out by any hint of intimacy when your nephews are within a mile of the house. Three. I thought you’d be more likely to talk if I fucked you stupid first.”

  Lucky paused a moment to consider. True, true, and very true. “Okay, I’ll give you those.”

  “Now, talk.”

  “It’s not your problem, it’s mine.”

  “And whenever you do something asinine, well, Lucky, Loretta always tells me you’re my problem. So, if my problem has a problem, it’s my problem too.” Bo scrunched his face. “That didn’t sound half as good coming out of my mouth as it did in my brain. I don’t think of you as a problem.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Bo frowned and considered Lucky. “Okay. Occasionally. Maybe.”

  “That’s what I love about you. So decisive.” Lucky pasted on a winning smile.

  To which Bo rolled his eyes. “T-Rex, I’m so close to coming over this table and shaking you until you talk.”

  “You’re like a dog on a bone, you know that?”

  Bo stuck his chin out and raised a brow. Fuck. Bo’s line-in-the-sand look. No standing against him now.

  Lucky heaved out a sigh. “I’m on desk duty.”

  Bo gasped, jaw dropping. “Desk duty? Why?”

  “Lots of reasons, according to O’Donoghue. Poor performance for one, due to me signing off on the Chastain Pharmaceuticals audit when DEA came in a few hours later and pulled their registration. Which got the state Board of Pharmacy involved and closed their doors.”

  “Fuck. But not you. Us.”

  “What?”

  “Us. You, me, and Loretta all agreed and signed off on the report.” Bo took a bite of his oatmeal without making the face Lucky would have.

  “As senior agent, I’m responsible. I’m not pulling you two under the bus with me.”

  “What’s the other reasons?”

  “He says the powers that be are rethinking Walter hiring me.”

  Bo’s spoon clattered to the table. “What the fuck? You’re the best damned agent they have. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. Where does he get off questioning what Walter did? Remember Agent Salters, the guy we met in Virginia? He said your success paved the way for him to redeem himself.” Bo’s scowl could curdle milk. “Has O’Donoghue forgotten that I came into the bureau through Walter Smith’s Second Chance Program? The nerve of the man
!”

  “There’s another reason.” All the time Lucky spent worried about someone finding out about him and Bo wasn’t wasted effort after all.

  “What reason?”

  Lucky took a deep breath. Not saying the words didn’t make them less truthful. “O’Donoghue’s questioning our relationship. Said we’re violating policy.”

  Wildfire flashed up Bo’s face, shading his skin red. “Sonofabitch! Lucky, we’ve fought that battle. Walter told you we were fine, since you joined the bureau officially after we were already… involved.”

  “You know as good as I do O’Donoghue doesn’t need a reason. If he wants me gone, he can do what he wants to.”

  “I watch people, and one thing I learned about management is this: a new boss who comes in and starts changing things without first studying what works and what doesn’t is a complete idiot, and also aiming to discredit his predecessor. A man confident in his abilities would never do that.”

  Bo had his back. Hopefully he wouldn’t regret it. He knocked back a swig of orange juice like a shot of whiskey. “He’s threatening your job.”

  “He even brought up me giving my dad some liver.”

  Bo slammed his glass to the table. “That motherfucker.”

  “Yeah. If I so much as sneeze he swears it’s a sign of burnout. He cleared out Walter’s office and moved himself in. He’s cleaning house and getting rid of anyone who might try to stop him.”

  “What about me and Loretta?”

  Crap. Loretta Johnson. “I think he believes if he sends me packing the rest of you will fall into line.”

  “He’s wrong,” Bo snapped. “We do our own thinking, and we don’t like him any more than you do.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” The next part of Lucky’s confession hurt the most. “I believe Johnson is on team O’Donoghue.”

  Bo let out a strangled gasp. “No! She’d never do that. The woman has nothing but respect for you.”

  If only. “I wish I felt the same.” Lucky had never realized how much he’d come to depend on her presence until her betrayal left a big empty hole in his life.