Suspicion (Diversion Book 7)

by Eden Winters

  Which explained the blip. Someone cut themselves out of the scene.

  Walter read from a file. Where’d it come from?

  Oh, Walter brought it in with him.

  Bo stepped out onto the deck. “I brought you some coffee.”

  Lucky snapped the laptop closed and forced a smile. “Thanks.”

  Bo handed Lucky the coffee, sank down into the other Adirondack chair and focused his gaze on Lucky’s laptop.

  “Care to talk about it?”

  “No.” It hurt Lucky’s heart to keep secrets from his partner, but Bo had enough to worry about already. Then there was Keith’s warning.

  Bo ran a hand through his hair. “Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, right?”

  “Yeah.” Bo knew Lucky too well to fall for fake reassurances. Lucky tried anyway.

  “Something’s bothering you. It’s not still O’Donoghue, is it?”

  “No.” With so many other things going on, Lucky had barely thought of the devil turning SNB into Hell all weekend.

  Stubborn chin lift in five, four, three, two… There it came, proving Bo had no intention of letting Lucky get away with half-truths.

  “It’s this whole thing with Walter.” Lucky placed the coffee cup on the floor beside the chair. “I went to see him today. He actually stood up for a bit.”

  “Really? That’s awesome.” Bo’s face lit up. “I told you he’d be fine.”

  “He’s not fine.” Lucky chewed his bottom lip. “He didn’t recognize me.”

  Bo covered Lucky’s hand with his own. “I know how much it hurts you, not seeing him at work. Trust me, it’ll be okay. He’ll be back. You’ll see.” Bo didn’t lie, straight arrow that he was. But in this, he couldn’t possibly know.

  “I’d love to believe you.” Lucky’s voice came out strained.

  “Then believe me.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I am.”

  Unspoken words caused a knot in his chest. This was Lucky’s partner, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “Walter’s attack wasn’t from natural causes.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, especially since Keith warned him to keep Bo out of this mess as much as possible, but he needed Bo’s insight. Lucky opened his laptop.

  Bo studied the video six times and turned to Lucky, face ashen. “I think you’re right. Where did you get this?” He gave Lucky a hardened gaze. “You didn’t plant cameras in the boss’s office, did you?”

  “What? No! I wouldn’t do that! Not to Walter.” Not to Bo either. Anyone else and all bets were off. Bo didn’t ask again where he’d gotten the video. “The video just sorta… happened, and I wound up with a copy.” Please let Bo not ask too many questions.

  Bo stared at Lucky a long moment, then deflated some. “So, the coffee cup was there when Walter arrived, he brought the file in with him, and now both are missing.” Bo pursed his lips, stared out over the back yard, and finally raised a finger. “Excuse me a moment.”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket, hit a few buttons, and held the device to his ear. “Hi, Lisa. Look, I have a question. Do you get Walter coffee in the mornings? No? Oh, nothing. Just asking. I’ll tell you more later.”

  They carried on a few moments of mumbled conversation.

  Bo returned the phone to his pocket. “Lisa says Walter usually bought coffee from a coffee shop. She doesn’t know who brought the cup.”

  A plain white mug. Like the ones stored in the break room for anyone to use.

  Lucky braced himself for an argument. “There’s only a handful of people with access to Walter’s office, and not many could get in and out without comment.”

  Bo drummed his fingertips against his thigh. “He’s usually early to work, and didn’t make a face when he drank, so the coffee likely wasn’t cold. Someone had recently brought it.”

  “Who do we know that shows up early?”

  Bo grabbed his phone. “Lisa, sorry to bother you again, but can you tell me if anyone came in early the day Walter had to be rushed to the hospital? No? That’s quite all right. Thanks.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Dead end. Lisa doesn’t get to work until eight, and spends time setting up the mail room, so any number of people could have come in.”

  Keith knew about the missing cup, likely he’d used all the technology at his disposal. There were no cameras in the elevator, too few in the parking garage.

  Any number of people could have come in early to spend time at the gym before work. Employee badge readings fell to surveillance. Given the missing camera footage, if Lucky asked for records, he’d tip people off about his suspicions, and likely get bullshit for his trouble.

  Besides, Keith would have checked those records too. He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid or he wouldn’t work for Walter.

  “Okay, out with it.” Bo glared hot enough to melt lead. “What else have you been up to?”

  “What makes you think I’ve been up to something?” Lucky shot back.

  Bo arched an eyebrow. “Umm… Because I know you?”

  “Oh, right.” Lucky filled him in on the fire-stricken company, his suspicions about Forsyth. He left out his meeting with Chastain. Might as well save something for later.

  “Are you telling me you think the Chastain case and Walter’s attack are related?” Bo scratched his head. “To what end? What’s the connection? I can see why a competitor would want Chastain out of the way, but where does Walter fit in?”

  “Think about it. The missing file was about the Chastain case, and Boss Man was talking to me when he picked up the cup. It was no secret we had a meeting. Hell, even Keith knew.”

  “Keith? What’s he got to do with this?”

  Oops! Had Lucky said that out loud? “I’ll tell you later. Anyway, there was something in that file someone didn’t want us to know about. You gotta admit, the DEA boys are up each other’s asses at work. O’Donoghue, Phillip, and Landry. Rogers is one of ours, but brown-noses O’Donoghue so badly if O’Donoghue stopped suddenl—”

  Bo held up a hand. “Stop. That’s a mental image I don’t need. Now, who’s in our corner?”

  “You, me, Lisa”—Lucky paused— “Keith. Maybe a few others. Though I’m guessing with all the assignments designed to keep you out of the office, they’re counting on you to be a company man.”

  Bo leaned closer and captured Lucky’s chin in his hand. “I’m your man. Regardless of how hard-assed you try to be, you’ve got good instincts. Walter trusts ‘em, I trust ‘em. What do you want me to do?”

  Now came the hard part, asking the man he loved to do something he totally wouldn’t do himself. “Let them keep believing you live and breathe the SNB. Suck up to them. Find out what you can.”

  ***

  Where had the summer gone? Charlotte better get her ass back soon or Lucky would be moving Todd into his college dorm without her.

  While he normally would be lounging at home, or maybe finally taking Bo hiking or something, a day off meant another chance to visit Walter.

  It took all of Lucky’s self-control not to latch onto Bo like a lifeline. He hated hospitals. He’d spent too much time in them over the years.

  For Walter. He’d keep putting one foot in front of the other for Walter. Having Bo at his side helped, though their fingers merely brushing together wasn’t quite the contact he wanted.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t have to hide. Wouldn’t hide. He’d spent too many years hiding. Besides, he kinda wanted to scream to the world, “This awesome man is mine, and fuck you if you don’t like it!”

  With a question in his eyes, he laced his fingers with Bo’s. Bo gave him a smile and squeezed his hand.

  Now he could conquer the world.

  As soon as Walter recovered. And O’Donoghue and his minions slunk off back to where they’d come from.

  And he restored Chastain’s, and his own, good name.

&n
bsp; Most people coming and going were too busy to notice them—talking on cellphones, chatting with those they walked with, or, in the case of one young woman, herding a passel of young ‘uns.

  An older woman eyed their hands, then their faces, averted her eyes, and scurried away.

  One man shot them a dirty look. “Really? There are families here.”

  Lucky snarled, “We are family,” and kept on going.

  If Asshat didn’t want to see two men holding hands, he shouldn’t look. Or better yet, stay in his own damned house where he could convince himself that the rest of the world needed to conform to his own narrow-minded thinking.

  Bo stroked a hand down Lucky’s back. “Some people are rude. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  What? Bo saying such while the man could hear them? Bo’s manners had definitely rubbed off on Lucky. Seemed like Lucky returned the favor with a dose of speaking his mind.

  Walter lay in bed, much like he’d been on Lucky’s last visit. His color looked good. Breathing even.

  Breathing. Walter, on the floor, lips blue, struggling for breath.

  Much like Bo had looked in Mexico when he’d overdosed.

  Overdosed.

  All symptoms pointed to overdose.

  Someone had drugged Walter, nearly killing him.

  God have mercy on the mutherfuckers, because Lucky wouldn’t.

  Walter snuffled a few times and his eyes popped open. For a moment the gesture didn’t register. Then…

  “Walter!” Lucky rushed closer.

  Walter glanced from Lucky to Bo and a slight smile crawled across his face. “Bo. Lucky.” His voice came out hoarse, but Lucky heard his own name.

  Yes! Nothing ever sounded better.

  He clasped Walter’s reaching hand between his own. His eyes burned. “You’re awake!” And aware. While he’d love to ask the boss a million questions, he’d have to go slow. No telling how much, if anything, Walter remembered.

  Bo squeezing Lucky’s shoulder gave him strength. He held his mentor’s hand, soaking up the warmth of his lover at his back. He’d spoken true to the jerk in the lobby: they were family.

  “H… how’s things at… at…” Walter’s brow furrowed.

  “Work?” Bo supplied.

  Walter’s worried frown eased. “Yes. Work.”

  “Okay.” Walter didn’t need to know about O’Donoghue’s takeover attempt. But man, Lucky’d love to see the fuckwad’s face when he dropped the bomb about Walter’s progress.

  Only… What would happen if O’Donoghue knew about Walter recovering? It wasn’t likely for O’Donoghue to come check on the man he tried to replace.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better.” Walter’s words held a touch of a slur. That he spoke at all meant he wasn’t brain damaged, right?

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  Wrinkles deepened on Walter’s forehead. “Happened? Something happened?”

  Bo patted Lucky’s shoulder. Lucky took the hint and stopped his line of questioning. “I saw your missus the other day.”

  Walter gave him a fond smile. “She was here.”

  With every short answer, Lucky’s heart fell. It dragged the floor by the time he left.

  ***

  Bo went down to bring the car around while Lucky said goodbye to Walter. “You get better, old man. I miss you.”

  Walter clung tightly to Lucky’s hand. “Do you have to go?”

  Did he? Walter’s pleading eyes pulled at his heartstrings. “I have to go feed two starving wolves disguised as my nephews.” If they hadn’t already gnawed their way through the cupboard. Had he eaten so much at their age? Yeah, probably. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

  “You do that, Son.”

  Son. Such an innocent word that could mean so little or so much. Made Lucky warm all over. “See you tomorrow, Dad.” Nothing said he couldn’t have two fathers.

  ***

  Bo hadn’t fooled Lucky for an instant—he’d engineered a chance for Lucky to be alone with Walter. Who knew all those years ago, when Lucky first scowled at Walter in the visiting area of the Durham Correctional Center, that he’d come to love the man?

  Lucky hopped into the Camaro Bo had pulled up outside the exit. “You okay?” Bo asked.

  Was he? “I will be.”

  “The effects are likely temporary. Walter will get better every day, you’ll see.” Bo’s tight smile cut Walter’s chances to nil. No, Bo had said he’d get better, so damn it, Walter had to fully recover.

  “I’m just glad he’s still alive.” Whatever it took, Lucky would guarantee the Smiths lacked for nothing.

  Bo laced the fingers of his free hand with Lucky’s. “Me too.”

  They didn’t say much on the way home until Bo pulled into the empty driveway. “Where’s your Durango?”

  “I gave Todd money this morning and loaned him the keys so he could take his brother shopping. He needed things for his dorm room, and Ty needed a pair of tennis shoes. Thought we might want some time alone after we visited the hospital. They cut the Smiths’ grass earlier today.”

  Lucky glared at Bo. “You knew he’d begun speaking again, didn’t you?”

  Bo lowered his gaze. “Yes, but I hoped he’d have improved some since I talked to Mrs. Smith.”

  Together they trudged up to the front door. Lucky unlocked and turned the doorknob, and promptly hit the floor. “Ack! Moose, you monster, get off of me!”

  Bo let out a laugh. “That’s why I let you go first.” He stepped over Lucky and grabbed the dog’s collar, leading him to the back yard. “C’mon, Moose. A man can take only so much slobber.”

  Moose’s tail swung back and forth, crashing into Cat Lucky snoozing on the chair arm. The cat hissed.

  “Kids.” Bo opened the door and let the dog outside.

  Lucky picked himself up off the floor. When Bo needed incentive to get off the couch, Lucky should’ve gotten a chihuahua.

  Bo strode into the kitchen, washed up, and pulled a few vegetables out of the refrigerator. “Would you mind feeding the dog and cat while I fix dinner?”

  “Sure.” All Lucky wanted to do was wrap himself around Bo and stay there forever. However, whining from the back yard offered a call to duty. When a one hundred twenty-pound dog wanted dinner, you fed him. The cat too, or he might smother Bo and Lucky in their bed.

  When he slid open the back door, Moose barreled inside. Grabbing the doorframe kept Lucky on his feet. Bo yelped from the kitchen, probably felled by a four-footed missile. “Damn it, Moose! Lucky, I meant for you to feed him outside.”

  Lucky ran into the kitchen and hauled Bo off the floor. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He reached into the pantry and pulled out a bag of dog food nearly as big as himself. Moose sat in front of him, tail slapping against the cabinet.

  Bo washed his hands and resumed fixing dinner. “That dog is going to be the death of me.”

  Lucky lured the pets outside with bowls of kibble.

  Plates and glasses sat on the table when he returned. Warmth from the oven and the scent of spices hinted at who knew what, but his mouth watered.

  “Sit.” Bo gestured toward the dining room table. What? They weren’t eating in the kitchen?

  Lucky washed up and took his usual seat. Or rather, his usual seat when they bothered with the dining room at all.

  Bo didn’t smile, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He fussed around the oven a bit and brought bowls to the table. Salad and some kind of not-meat fritter that still managed to be tasty. With ketchup.

  One more trip to the kitchen and Bo returned with a bottle of wine.

  “Wine?” They hadn’t drunk much wine since they’d returned from their near-fatal adventure in Mexico.

  “It’s a special occasion.”

  Lucky wracked his brain. It wasn’t the day they met, was it? Bo’s birthday? No. They had a few weeks left before then. “What occasion?” May Bo let Lucky live if he’d forgotten some mile
stone in their relationship.

  Bo worked magic with a corkscrew and poured them each a glass of wine. “It’s the day you realize you’re not alone and let me take part of the burden.”

  Lucky shut Bo up the best way he could, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in, locking their mouths together. He shoved all the things he couldn’t say into the dance of tongue on tongue.

  Bo moaned into his mouth and drew back. “The boys won’t be back for a while. What say we take advantage of this alone time?”

  Lucky fought the temptation to bend Bo over the nearest surface or take him hard and fast on the kitchen floor. With the thoughts in his head swirling around and around, he needed something more.

  Grasping Bo by the hand, Lucky led him into their bedroom, closed and locked the door out of habit. He joined them at the mouth, pressing his tongue against Bo’s, taking Bo into his arms.

  Bo matched him stroke for stroke, his hard length pressed against Lucky’s thigh. Holding the kiss, Lucky unbuttoned Bo’s shirt.

  He slipped the soft cotton over Bo’s shoulders, sending the shirt to the floor. Every bit of Bo’s chest cried out for Lucky’s fingers to trace the nipples, comb through the whorls of hair. The strong muscles of his back also called.

  Lucky stepped back, running his hands from Bo’s shoulder down to his chest and followed the trail with his mouth.

  Down and down he wandered, falling to his knees and mouthing Bo’s cock through his khaki pants.

  Bo moaned, pushing against Lucky’s mouth. Lucky slid Bo’s zipper down and buried his face in Bo’s groin, breathing in his partner’s comforting scent. He pulled out Bo’s cock and took him deep, moaning around his mouthful.

  Bo dug his fingers into the short strands of Lucky’s hair, thrusting in a stuttered rhythm.

  Lucky looked up, watching Bo’s face, eyes closed, face serene as Lucky brought him pleasure.

  As much as he hated to, he pulled off. Bo let out a disappointed groan.

  Lucky rose to his feet, rejoining their mouths. He pulled away long enough to slip his T-Shirt over his head. He and Bo attacked each other’s pants and toed off their shoes.

  One good shove to the center of Bo’s chest sent him backward, tumbling onto the bed. Lucky climbed onto the mattress, over Bo. How long had it been since he took his time, loved his man properly? Too many hours lately had been spent worrying, trying so hard to be everything to everybody.