by Eden Winters
With Bo he didn’t have to be anyone but himself. Once he’d craved freedom, from relationships, the SNB, from his past. From prison.
Funny how he’d found all he didn’t even know he needed in one straight-laced, college-educated ex-Marine, so very different from himself.
Seeing himself in Bo’s eyes, the love shining there, the understanding, made him wonder for the millionth time what such a good man saw in him.
Whatever the attraction, he’d do his best to keep Bo smiling.
He dragged his lips over Bo’s, over his face, his neck, his ears. Bo rolled his head to the side, giving Lucky more room to play on his neck. Lucky rocked his hips, their cocks together.
Skin to skin, breath mingling, his chest filled to bursting. He’d never believed in love for himself. Never thought he’d want to be with one man.
Bo had waltzed in, wanting permanence, a home, kids.
But not marriage—until he wanted to prove a point.
Bo had been right the first time. They didn’t need words or a piece of paper to bind them together.
Lucky pressed a kiss to Bo’s shoulder, a silent “I love you.” The mark he raised at the base of Bo’s neck meant, “I need you.”
With the trail of kisses he peppered over Bo’s chest while wriggling southward, he conveyed, “Don’t ever leave me.”
When he took Bo’s cock between his lips again, all other thoughts drifted away. Bo’s scent, the glide of loose skin over hardness, the drop of liquid at the tip, all distracted him in a way only Bo could.
He took Bo from tip to root and back again, Bo cheering him on with “Oh, God, yeah!” and writhing on the sheets. Bo stared down at Lucky, the visual contact of gaze on gaze more intimate than any sexual encounter with someone else. Holding the base of Bo’s cock with one hand, Lucky meshed the fingers of his free hand with Bo’s.
Bo clasped his fingers, eyes drifting closed.
The tightening of Bo’s muscles gave warning, but before Bo came, he pushed Lucky away. “No.”
“What the h—”
Bo cut off Lucky’s words by bodily dragging him up the bed and flinging him onto his back on the mattress. Oh! Forceful.
Lucky liked.
Bo rummaged through the nightstand and returned. Joining their mouths in a bruising display of passion, Bo popped a top and rubbed wet fingers against Lucky’s hole.
Lucky certainly bottomed a lot lately.
He wouldn’t complain.
Instead he groaned, welcoming Bo’s fingers into his body. Just for a moment though, enough to get him wet. He wrapped a hand around Bo’s wrist and growled, “No. I want the burn.”
Bo obliged, settling between Lucky’s legs and driving in.
Lucky breathed through the momentary discomfort. Bo paused, staring down at him with questioning eyes.
In answer, Lucky pushed back, gradually relaxing and the pressure turning to pleasure. Twisting his hands in the sheets, he met Bo’s next stroke, not thinking, only feeling.
Bo, sliding into and out of him, the sweep of thigh against thigh, the tightening of Bo’s nipples beneath Lucky’s fingertips.
Brushing their tongues together, catching Bo’s cries in his mouth, Lucky gave himself over completely. Snaking a hand between their bodies, he stroked himself to the beat of Bo’s thrusts.
Tension built, that sweet, sweet moment when he hovered on the edge—then tipped over into bliss.
“God, I love you,” Bo cried out. He sank in to the hilt and stilled his hips, muscles rigid and holding his weight off Lucky on trembling arms.
Lucky jerked, slickness forming between their bellies. Bo let out a heavy groan as Lucky tightened around his cock.
They shuddered together, riding wave after wave.
Bo pressed his forehead to Lucky’s, and in a breathless whisper, said, “I love you.”
Lucky answered by hooking his legs over Bo’s thighs, taking Bo’s face between his hands. He skated his lips over Bo’s, slowly, slowly, then opened his mouth and invited Bo in. They both moaned, plundering, attacking, the kiss still frantic though the passion waned.
Breathing hard in and out, they prolonged the moment, joined in the most intimate way imaginable.
Their breathing slowed, muscles demanded movement. Lucky eased his legs down and let Bo slip free.
Bo rolled beside him, resting his head on Lucky’s chest. They didn’t speak, merely held each other.
Lucky awoke in a dark room, a warm ball of fur tucked against one ankle, snoring coming from the floor at the foot of the bed, no flaking mess on his stomach, and Bo spooned against his side.
For one moment in time, life couldn’t get any better.
He slipped out of bed, shrugged into his seldom-used bathrobe, and checked out the house. The boys were back, the Durango parked in the driveway.
Without his knowing, Bo had returned to the kitchen and cleaned up.
Sitting down on the couch, Lucky stretched out his legs and enjoyed the peaceful moment.
The calm before Hurricane Lucky.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucky glanced right and left before ducking into his cube. He also swept the wand he’d gotten from Keith over the area. No bugs. No obvious cameras.
No help for it. He only got so far on his home computer. Further research required SNB resources.
He settled at his desk and started digging up anything available on Forsyth Pharmaceuticals. Man, what a global monster. Facilities in India, China, the UK, Canada, and headquartered in a tiny little nowhere town in Alabama.
To avoid union support for workers.
The CEO made sixty-four million dollars last year. Daaaaaang!
Lucky was in the wrong business. With its two biggest competitors taken out of the equation, Forsyth ruled. Stocks had risen rapidly in the past few days. Some stockholders would make a buttload of money.
Two competitors out of the running within a month. Even if Lucky believed in coincidences, which he sure as hell didn’t, he’d have lost the faith by now.
A suspicious fire.
A suspicious order.
A company who now held a monopoly on the market, and the threat of a better drug to knock them out of a few billion in profits no longer looming on the horizon.
Soon Chastain would receive another offer for buyout, probably much cheaper than before.
Someone was working with Forsyth Pharmaceuticals, someone with a wide enough reach to plant an illegal shipment and arrange the burning of another company. According to speculation, it’d take months to get the factory up and running again.
Lots of money lay on the table. Money made people do strange things.
Greed.
He knew the names of some of the officers of Forsyth. Pharma executives had a tendency to migrate from one company to another.
Many made ridiculous salaries.
Right now the company advertised an opening in upper management. Strange. Usually such positions were filled long before the former manager left.
“Why the hell are you investigating Forsyth?”
Fuck. Busted. Lucky swiveled his chair and stared up at a woman he’d thought he knew. Had he ever known her? She’d shot her former lover, after all. Lord knew he hadn’t encouraged her friendship. She’d approached him and wouldn’t go away.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, his heart sank to his gut. He’d trusted her, opened up to her. Well, sort of. She’d brought him coffee, advised him on relationship troubles with Bo. Hell, she’d been there when Bo hit rock bottom, helped Lucky pick up and glue the pieces back together. She’d been the first true friend he’d had in years, other than Bo.
Had she been playing him all this time? And by extension, Bo?
Lucky hadn’t lived this long by trusting the wrong people.
Then again…
Many times former agents wound up working for pharma companies. Who better?
He shot arrows with his eyes at Johnson, the hot tinge of anger chasing away disapp
ointment. “What of it?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “If we have a case against a big dog, I’ve yet to hear of it.”
Very deliberately, he flipped the lid of his laptop closed. He didn’t even try to keep the growl from his voice. “What business is it of yours?”
“What?” She staggered back a step, eyes wide. “Why are you pissed with me? What the hell is wrong with you, Lucky?”
What the hell indeed. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” God, a razor blade slashed his heart. This woman might’ve betrayed him. Everything he’d told her so far had made its way back to O’Donoghue.
He eyed the heart-shaped pendant hanging from her neck.
Johnson plopped a cup of coffee on his desk and flounced away.
The pendant! Keith’s missing microphone!
“Johnson!”
She ignored him, disappearing into the ladies’ room.
She’d brought coffee. A bribe to give her a reason to visit his cube.
Johnson hadn’t yet emerged from her sanctuary when O’Donoghue called him into Walter’s office.
“You called?” Lucky poured an ass load of contempt into those two words. Damn it! He’d wanted to confront his traitor.
O’Donoghue sneered. “Stick to cases you’re given and stop poking around where you’re not supposed to.”
Fuck. “I had every right to go talk to—”
“Whatever business you think you have with Forsyth Pharmaceuticals ends now. You got me?”
All hope died. No more pretending Johnson hadn’t thrown him under a bus. Lucky lifted his chin. “And if I don’t?”
“Mr. Harrison, you’re already on probation. You’ll ride a desk until I say otherwise, you got me? Don’t make me suspend you from duty entirely.”
Lucky clenched his fists and nearly blurted, “How’s that any different than the way things are now?” He managed to keep the words in his mouth. Bo would be so proud. Walter too.
Walter.
Normally he wouldn’t go without a fight, but Keith’s words hung over his head. Bo. Anything he did in the next five minutes stood a good chance of affecting Bo.
Besides, Lucky needed to save his anger to unleash on Johnson.
He strode out of the office without another word. Was that nothingness the sound of his world crashing down?
Bo wasn’t in their cube. Probably out on a case. Like Lucky used to be and might never be again by the looks of things.
Might as well go to lunch.
In his frame of mind, only one place would do.
On his way past the reception desk, he growled, “You see Loretta Johnson, tell her I’m looking for her.” Gunning for her, more like it.
If he found her…
***
God, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t. But like many years ago at his trial, the evidence overpowered any case for the defense.
His gut clenched. No thinking about lunch while his guts roiled.
He’d trusted her. Trusted her! Served him right for letting his guard down. Well, no more!
Johnson’s Jeep sat in its normal spot. Lucky paced the parking lot. He’d never been much good at waiting. With any luck, he’d confront Re… Johnson, get some answers and maybe be home before Bo wondered where he might be.
He needed those answers more than air right now.
Across the lot the elevator doors opened.
He lay back against his car, one foot raised and resting on the hubcap. Johnson threw up a hand and trotted over. “Hi, Lucky! Lisa said you wanted to see me.” She approached slowly, a brief flash of uncertainty on her face.
Lucky stepped away from the car, put his finger over his lips and held out the wand. His best glower said complying wasn’t optional. Keith mentioned missing equipment and not to trust anyone. He’d ponder the irony of heeding anything his enemy said later.
Johnson’s eyes got big, then she scowled, “What do you—”
Lucky slapped a hand over her mouth and ran the bug detector over her body. All clean… until.
Oh shit. He stepped back, glaring, and pantomimed taking off her necklace. She nodded and did as told. Lucky opened the car door, started the engine, jacked up the stereo, and slammed the door. There. That ought to make some nosey shithead lose lunch.
Achy Breaky Heart blasting at high volumes behind him, Lucky glared upward at the woman who’d better start talking. “I figured you were the leak. Things only you knew made it back to O’Donoghue. I want to know why.”
Johnson stepped back, eyes wide and palms splayed. “I swear to God, Lucky, I had no idea. Really, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Where did you get the necklace, then?”
She pounded a fist against the car hood. Lucky recoiled and checked for a dent. “Sonofabitch! Phillip. Phillip gave me that necklace. Told me he’d love to see it on me at work, so that even if we couldn’t tell anyone about us, we’d have this. That bastard! I played right into his hands!”
The angry tiger trapped in a woman’s body whirled and faced Lucky. “I’ll kill the little bastard, using me like that!”
So, one of O’Donoghue’s minions struck again. O’Donoghue wasn’t the only one capable of reading body language. Being used shook Loretta Johnson to the core. “Lucky, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea. Really. You gotta believe me.”
She kept her head down.
Lucky let out a deep breath. She hadn’t betrayed him. He and trust weren’t close acquaintances, but he believed her. Needed to believe. Even so, he’d sure as hell keep his eyes open. “You know what this means, right?”
“Yeah.” She clenched her fists. “That motherfucker! I’ll—”
“Do not one damned thing. If you do, he’ll know we’re onto him. This way, we can feed him whatever bullshit we want him to believe, and he’ll go skulking back to O’Donoghue.” Once Lucky’s blood pressure returned to normal, he’d let his inner redneck out to play and figure out how best to use this opportunity to his advantage. “Really, woman, you need to rethink who you hang out with.” Many folks probably said the same to her about him.
“You got that right.” Johnson let out a snort to do a bull proud. “I’m going to rip his balls off. No, first I’ll kick them so hard he’ll hear bells ring. Then I’ll… I’ll…”
Lucky flinched and backed up. Her size ten pumps could do a lot of damage if she got carried away.
Keith mentioned losing a necklace wire from his arsenal of listening devices. Looked like Lucky’d found the missing bling.
Hey! Phillip getting busted might mean… “Do you think O’Donoghue put him up to it?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Phillip isn’t the kind to act on his own. There’s a puppet master pulling his strings.” Anger flared in her eyes. “How can I be around him, act normal, knowing he did this to me? Betrayed us. He damned sure ain’t coming around my son no more.”
Lucky forced a smile. “You’re a trained undercover operator, and I remember how smoothly you lied in the classroom. I’ve seen you in action outside the SNB too. You’ve got this, Joh… Rett.” If he repeated those words often and loudly enough, he might convince himself. “But I see your point. Keep him away from your kid.”
This woman hadn’t thought twice about putting a bullet into a man she’d once loved in order to save her son. Push come to shove, she’d be a mama bear and likely kill Phillip with her bare hands.
Phillip worked against them. The thought stung. Having Rett still on his side made up for a world of hurt.
Hurt he’d lay at Phillip and O’Donoghue’s feet.
Any day now.
Lucky relaxed, releasing the tension making his neck and shoulders hurt. “I’m on the man’s shit list for checking out Forsyth. He threatened to suspend me.”
“He what?” Rett eyed the parking lot and said more softly, “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Lucky rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not.” And he wasn’t. Not the first little bit.
He opene
d the car door, turned off the switch, and returned Rett’s necklace. She flinched when he fastened the clasp. “Now, my sister’s gonna be back down here soon, and I told her you’d show her around. There’s a couple of bars downtown she might like.” Yeah, torture Phillip with thoughts of his girlfriend on the prowl.
Rett jumped right into the game. “There’s this one place on the outskirts of town, got the finest male strippers in the south. Hung Like a Horse?” She giggled. “No, that’s not it. Stallion, something.”
“Raging Stallion,” Lucky supplied.
“How did you… never mind. They do have some fiiiiiiiiiiiiine dancers. Reckon she’d like to go there?”
Lucky chuckled. Would serve Phillip right to stake out a gay bar, trying to keep an eye on his girlfriend. Bo and the manager were friends. Maybe they’d cook up a surprise, like a lap dance or something. Caught on video. “Two single women and a strip club? I’d say you’re planning to corrupt my sister, but I get a feeling she’ll find stuffing dollar bills into some guy’s thong a bit tame.” He so did not need the mental image he’d just created, but anything to torture Phillip.
“Oh, we’ll have ourselves an amazing girls’ night out.” Rett crammed so much innuendo into one small sentence. “Umm… Better have bail money ready.” She dropped her smile, stared Lucky in the eyes, mouthed, “I got this,” and sauntered back to the elevator, whistling Achy Breaky Heart.
Now to plan what information he’d feed the upstarts to make them chase their own damned tails.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucky sat at his desk, finishing up the last of the burger he’d grabbed for lunch. His cellphone chimed with a text: “Please call me.”
Chastain.
Lucky used Keith’s wand to scan himself, the cube, and his phone, but wouldn’t take chances. “I’m going for a walk to think,” Lucky told Lisa at the reception desk. “If anyone asks where I am other than Bo and Johnson, tell ‘em to go fuck themselves.”
Lisa’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline, but she schooled her expression. “Yes, Mr. Harrison.”