Chapter Seventeen
“What did you tell them at work?” Lucky asked between sips of coffee in the passenger seat of Bo’s Durango.
“You’re heading to Spokane to help your sister move.” From the driver’s seat, Bo swiveled his head toward Lucky. “I logged into your e-mail and requested two weeks of personal time.”
“Works for me.” Two weeks of not seeing O’Donoghue and his minions? Sure.
Bo returned his attention to the road. “They think I’m following up some leads on one of my cases, and for some reason, they don’t question what I do too much. Lisa’s going to log into my e-mail and send some timed reports throughout the day.”
Lucky considered Bo’s scheming. “You started kissing up to O’Donoghue, didn’t you?”
“You asked me to.” Bo batted his lashes. “I always do what you want me to, right?”
“If that’s what you’re going with.” Lucky tried for a long-suffering sigh. He’d rubbed off on the man a bit too much.
“Besides, people tend to believe what they want to, and he wants to believe I’m loyal to him, despite my connections with you and Walter. Chatting up Landry and Eustace doesn’t hurt either. O’Donoghue complimented me on my team behavior.” Bo rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, you they want to keep. Plus, you’ve got a squeaky-clean reputation and haven’t worked for Walter long enough to become overly connected to the old guard, in their minds. Same goes for Johnson.” Keith and Lucky? Their devotion to the old ways and unwillingness to change put their necks on the chopping block.
Lucky must’ve fallen pretty far to now have something in common with a waste of skin like Keith.
“If that was true, I wouldn’t be lying about my whereabouts and hauling ass to Alabama with the office black sheep.”
Lucky smiled. He really must be rubbing off on Bo. Actually, he’d love to rub off on Bo, but they didn’t have the time.
Maybe later. “What’s the plan?”
Bo gripped the steering wheel, checking over his shoulder and slamming the gas to merge onto the interstate. “I made a few calls, called in some favors, and we’re scheduled for a routine inspection as part of a vendor audit.”
Vendor audit. “You sneaky sumbitch, you.” Most impressive for a guy who normally kept to the book. “How’d you manage that?”
“Found a company with reason to like the SNB, since we saved their asses once, and reason to hate Forsyth, especially since they keep jacking up their prices.” Bo squeezed the SUV in between two eighteen wheelers and out the other side into the center lane before Lucky had time to grab the “oh, shit!” handle.
His heart still slammed his ribs.
He slid a sidelong glance Bo’s way and urged his pounding heart to slow. Normally Lucky drove on the interstate. Since when did Mr. Respects-speed-limits drive like a demon?
“If they get their hands on Chastain’s new diabetes drug, they’ll do more than drive up prices, they’ll own the market.” Bo continued, “If FDA doesn’t find out first.”
“And they will find out first, right?” If not already in motion, Lucky’d make a few calls.
“Chastain passed stage one trials. The FDA will damn sure notice a different entity launching stage two.”
Dang! Now why had Lucky not included Bo in his plans from the get-go? He’d gotten pretty shrewd since coming to work for the SNB. Plus, he’d been through Hell and had come out the other side.
Maybe Lucky needed to rethink his whole “Bo needs protecting” thing.
The drive to Nowhere, Alabama didn’t take as long as Lucky feared. Along with his newfound disregard for rules, Bo seemed to have lost his feather foot. Once or twice on the ride down Lucky had craned his neck to check the speedometer.
“Problem?” Bo asked, checking his GPS app for trouble ahead.
“Nope, none at all.” Bo became more like Lucky every day. Or Lucky more resembled Bo. “What about the boys this evening? I doubt we’ll make it back by supper time.”
“I left a lasagna in the fridge and cooking instructions. They’ll be fine.”
“You forget, one of them’s Ty.”
Bo snorted. “I don’t mention this because he might die of embarrassment, but I think part of the reason you two don’t get along is that he’s so much like you.”
“Like me?” Lucky whipped his head around. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You’re too close to the situation, or you would’ve noticed. Charlotte pointed out similarities, and I’ve got to admit, the longer I know him, the more I agree.”
What? Wait until he talked to his sister. “Bullshit. We’re not a bit alike.”
“You’re both stubborn beyond belief, and you probably haven’t noticed, but he’s starting to mimic your habits, how you walk, how you talk. You know what they say.” He faced Lucky long enough to wink. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”
“He hates me.”
“No, he’s confused.” Bo reached over and patted Lucky’s knee. “He misses friends and his old school, especially since he enrolled here too late to make the soccer team. He’ll adapt in no time.”
Shit. Lucky had forgotten Ty played soccer for his former school. Another thing his nephew had to give up. Yeah, he had the right to be put out. “How do you know he’ll adapt?”
“C’mon, don’t you remember what it was like to be sixteen? Thinking you were grown when everyone else thought you were a kid. It’s a hard time.”
“I wasn’t that insufferable.” Actually, Lucky had been worse, but Bo didn’t need to know.
Bo snorted and took the exit ramp. “Bet you were. Anyway, his older brother is about to leave for college, his mother is going back to school, and his whole life is in turmoil. I’m no psychologist, but I suspect he’s got some anxiety issues he’s working through. Give him time, and if he doesn’t come around, I’ll suggest Charlotte take him to be evaluated.”
Anxiety? Ty? “What’s he got to be anxious about?”
“I don’t know. How about his whole world getting turned upside down, his family moving from the only home he’s ever known, his Uncle Bristol being killed a few months ago and, oh yeah, another uncle just returned from the dead.”
Well, hell. Sounded like an episode of Lucky’s favorite soap opera, which he hadn’t dared to watch with Todd and Ty around. They’d give him hell for sure. “When you put it that way…”
Lucky kept checking mirrors, but no one followed them. Then again, maybe they’d gotten sandwiched between the two trucks Bo ducked between.
Bo’s phone chimed from the console. “Check that for me, okay?”
Unknown number sent a text. I’m here waiting. “Looks like your contact made it.”
“Cool. We’re almost there.” Bo nodded toward a monstrosity of a building looming on the horizon. Cotton fields as far as the eye could see, then this huge building in the middle of nowhere. Must’ve gotten one sweet tax deal.
Bo pulled up to the guardhouse and flashed a badge and a smile. “Bill Clegg and Anderson Fowler, here for a vendor audit.”
The guard barely scanned the offered badge and opened the gate. “Your buddy is already here, in the west parking lot.”
“Thanks. Have a good day.”
“You too!”
“That was easy enough.” Bo rolled up the window and passed Lucky a badge. “Here, put this on.”
“Anderson Fowler?” Lucky glanced down at the shiny plastic bearing his likeness.
“Yeah. Now, get ready to play nice.”
“I don’t play nice,” Lucky reminded him, tugging on his collar, trying to keep his tie from choking him. For a moment the ghost of Old Spice scented the vehicle, gone in a moment. Damn, but he missed Walter.
“Something I’ve come to love about you,” Bo said with a hint of a smile, easing into a parking space, “but a lot’s riding on us getting on these folks’ good side.”
“That’s why I got you.” Bo excelled at the people stuff, and would no doubt have these buzzards eating from his hand in no time. Lucky, on the other hand, spotted shit that shouldn’t be there, and recognized criminals from all the experience he’d gained looking in a mirror.
“C’mon. Let’s go find someone to bust.” Bo hopped out of the Durango.
Lucky climbed out of the SUV and followed Bo across the parking lot toward an older man with graying hair.
“Hey, Chuck,” Bo said, hand outstretched.
The man shook Bo’s hand. “You ready to get this show on the road?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Bo drawled, fine-tuning his Arkansas dialect to match Chuck’s Alabama drawl.
How easily Bo sank into his undercover roles. Lucky shuddered, remembering Cyrus Cooper, badass biker, and the months Bo spent being someone else so well he barely came back to himself.
Bo clasped Lucky’s shoulder and urged him forward. “Allow me to introduce Anderson Fowler, or rather, the man taking Anderson’s place today.”
Lucky cut his eyes toward Bo.
Only knowing the man as well as he did let Lucky find the hidden smirk in his smile.
The skin around Chuck’s eyes crinkled. “I know Anderson. You’re a far sight easier on the eyes than he is.”
Anderson must be one ugly sonofabitch. Or a harder ass than Lucky, dim possibility though that was.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Chuck asked.
“We’ll know it when we see it.” Bo hiked a thumb at Lucky. “This man has more experience in this sort of thing than I’ll ever have. Get him into as many places as you can.”
“Will do. I’ll ask for a complete audit. Tour, operating procedures, incident reports, the works. They’ll wish we were just the FDA when we get through with them.”
Guy must be pretty tough. The mere mention of an FDA inspection sent most pharma operations scuttling for cover.
Lucky followed Bo and Chuck into the building. His nerves kicked into high gear. Answers to his questions lay inside, waiting to be found.
He would find them.
How he’d love to have Johnson here with them, do a full takedown of this place. The talking heads here at Forsyth offered Chastain a shady deal, they had secrets to hide.
Finding out those secrets would make Lucky one happy man.
The warehouse gave him no surprises, and the stock stood in organized rows on shelves.
Tight security too. The guard escorting them scrutinized their every move. Lucky’s eyes had begun to cross by the time he finished reading boring procedure after boring procedure, and his tie threatened strangulation.
Bo charmed all he met, and even got invited out to lunch three times. Once by a man who smiled too broadly and stood too close.
“No, thank you. We’re not allowed to socialize.” Bo gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry.”
The man’s flirtiness vanished and he backed away. Good. Lucky wouldn’t have to gut slug him one.
They’d lied to O’Donoghue, drove all this way, and found absolutely nada. Last stop: executive wing.
Nameplates graced most of the office doors, but one corner office bore an empty plate. On a whim, Lucky asked the receptionist, “When will you fill the job?” After all, he had read about an unfilled executive position, hadn’t he?
“Don’t worry.” She gave him a blinding smile. “We already have. He starts next month. He’s former DEA.”
“What’s his name?”
“O—.”
“Ms. Payton, may I see you for a moment?” a well-dressed man barked from an open doorway.
“Coming, sir!” The woman’s face flushed and she scampered away.
Ho-ly fuck. One more minute! One more minute was all he’d need.
He searched the internet from his phone all the way home, and still didn’t get the name, though he had a pretty good idea.
O’Donoghue.