Chapter Eighteen
Lucky ripped his tie off before they’d made the main road. “What a clusterfuck.”
“You can say that again.” Bo took a hand off the steering wheel and massaged one temple.
“I knew that bastard was up to something, but I never imagined this.” Actually, he’d not given O’Donoghue enough credit to use his position in this way.
“So, if what we suspect is true, O’Donoghue arranged to hand them Chastain Pharmaceuticals at a discount price in exchange for a job that’ll pay him millions.” Bo might have mumbled “the bastard” under his breath. Lucky couldn’t be sure. “That explains why he got so upset about you investigating Forsyth.”
“How do we go about confronting him?”
Bo chewed his bottom lip, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “We don’t. Not yet. All we have so far is speculation and a receptionist who nearly named him. We’ll have to be careful about digging too deeply using work resources. They can be traced. If Forsyth has hired O’Donoghue, there’ll be background checks, drug tests, and so many other traceable paper trails. The Security and Exchange Commission would be all up in that too.”
“I could always beat the truth out of him.” Kicking O’Donoghue’s ass might prove to be the best therapy ever. Especially since Lucky still hadn’t, and wouldn’t, visit O’Donoghue’s hand-picked therapist.
“You know we can’t do that.” Funny how long it took for Bo to respond.
“Spoilsport.”
“I never said I didn’t want to,” Bo shot back. “I only said we couldn’t. Besides, kicking his ass would be too quick. We need to make the muthafucker suffer.”
Lucky did a double-take so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Who are you and what have you done with my textbook-quoting, by-the-book partner?”
“He stopped being Mr. Nice Guy as soon as a stupid shitbrick took aim at my partner.”
It wasn’t in Bo to quit being nice altogether. Thank God! Or he’d have ripped Lucky a new asshole a few years back. “So, what’s your suggestion?”
“I don’t know, but we have a lot of highway and hours between here and Atlanta to figure things out.”
“We’ll get him.” Lucky had never been surer of anything in his life. Well, except for Bo.
“It’s not only him. He’s dragged others into this mess, others who should know better. And Forsyth’s circling the drain too.”
Yes, and with any luck, Bo and Lucky would be the ones to flush them down the toilet.
With two hours left to go, Lucky’s phone rang. He shot Bo a questioning look. Surely someone hadn’t figured out what they were up to. The screen displayed, “Walter Smith.” What? Lucky hit the button and held the phone to his ear. “Boss Man?” Dare he hope?
“Hello, Lucky,” came a soft, sweet voice.
“Oh, hi. How are you, Mrs. Smith? How’s Walter?”
“Nice job!” Bo snarked. “Manners and everything.”
Lucky shot Bo a go to hell glare.
“We’re fine. Actually”—Mrs. Smith dropped her voice— “could you possibly come by sometime this evening?”
“Sure thing.” He pulled his cellphone away from his ear to check the time. “Will ‘bout seven do it?” She didn’t sound panicked like Lisa had, but he had to ask, “Everything okay?”
“Right as rain. Bring Bo and the boys too. I’ll cook dinner.”
His stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Mrs. Smith made one mean pot roast. “You don’t have to do that. We’ll be getting back to town around seven and won’t have time to get the boys.”
“Oh, well, maybe some other time then, but I still need to speak with you.”
“We’ll be there. And ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“If anyone asks, you ain’t seen hide nor hair of either of us.”
She chuckled. “I’ll remember that.”
“What did she want?” Bo asked once Lucky hung up the phone.
“For us to stop by. Sounded important, but she says she and Walter are fine.” Or as fine as Walter could be right now, more than likely.
Bo saluted. “If Mrs. Boss calls, we answer.”
Lucky nodded. “Damned skippy.”
***
They pulled into the Smiths’ driveway at five minutes to seven. Lucky swore he saw wings folding back up underneath the Durango. Somewhere along the way, Bo rethought his views on speed limits.
Nice. Especially if it got them to the Smiths’ earlier, and to whatever Mrs. Smith wanted them for.
She opened the door on their first knock. “Come in, come in.” Her eyes sparkled and her shoulders no longer slumped as they had when Lucky last saw her. She even smiled, something Lucky had rarely seen her do since Walter entered the hospital.
“Why did you want to see us?” Bo asked.
“I think I’d better show you.” She led the way into the living room.
Bo lifted a brow in Lucky’s direction and followed her, Lucky bringing up the rear.
Bo stopped so suddenly Lucky ran into him.
He peered around Bo.
Walter Smith stood by the window, cane in hand.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Why, Lucky, you’re wearing a suit!”
More lines marred Walter’s face, but the awareness in his eyes hit hard. Lucky’s heart gave a swift mule kick. “Boss!” He eyed Walter up and down, but other than the cane, a few missing pounds, and a world-weary tiredness, he might have been back to his old self.
One side of Walter’s mouth lifted. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Lucky stood frozen. Bo’s hand on his back jogged him toward the couch. He sat thigh to thigh with Bo.
Any minute now he’d wake up, find Walter still in the hospital…
Walter gusted out a heavy breath and sank into a recliner. “Ah, that’s better.” He fixed his bifocaled gaze on Lucky and Bo. “I still get tired so easily.”
Tired? Lucky couldn’t take his eyes off the man he’d feared would never be himself again. “It’s good to see you. A lot’s happened since you’ve been gone.”
Bo elbowed his side, jostling Lucky into continuing, “Which we don’t have to talk about now. We’re glad you’ve made so much progress.”
Walter waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t have to coddle me. I brought you here to talk business. What’s been going on at the office?”
Lucky cut his eyes toward Bo and raised his brows, bracing for another elbow jab.
Bo dipped his chin. Permission, but with a raised brow. So, better not hop up and swear a blue streak about O’Donoghue and his lapdogs. “Remember the case we were working on, Chastain Pharmaceuticals?”
“Yes. I believe DEA was instrumental in closing their doors.” Walter’s jowls shivered with the pursing of his lips. The boss had trusted the accuracy of Lucky’s clean report, and look what happened. He’d been sent to the hospital before the Board of Pharmacy shut Chastain down, so he’d been getting information from somewhere.
Lucky nodded. “Yeah, and you were looking into things. Had a folder when you called me into your office. You showed me the report, saying they took possession of a shipment from an unregistered vendor.”
“That much I remember.” If rubbing his temples could squish the memories out, Walter would remember everything back to World War I.
“There was more in the folder you didn’t show me.” Stupid fucking good guy traits. Lucky should have snagged that folder. Even if his entire attention was on the man hitting the floor. Victor had trained him better than that. Or worse, maybe. Compassion and concern were over-rated. Well, maybe not, but a firm hand on the evidence was underrated.
Walter switched his friction attack to his chin, staring off into space. “I’m afraid I don’t remember. Do you have the file? May I see it?”
Lucky shared a look with Bo. “It’s gone. I don’t wanna go into too much detail, but after your… episode… someone came in and took the file.” There, he’d explained the situation without throwing his own speculations in. A smart man like the boss wanted evidence untainted with opinion.
“Was anything else taken?” Walter stiffened and sat up in his chair.
“The coffee cup you drank from.”
Walter stayed silent for a long moment. “Nothing else?”
“Not that we found. Someone tried to cover that much up. The cup was there when you came in. Any idea who brought you coffee?”
The lines on Walter’s forehead deepened. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
Bo stood. “Why don’t I go get the video?”
“Video?” Walter’s bushy brows shot towards his hairline.
“I’ll explain later, but we have video of the whole thing.” He’d already shocked the boss enough. Telling him about cooperating with Keith might send him back to the hospital.
“Well, then, yes, please do, Bo.”
“You need to see it. I’ll be right back.” Bo gave Lucky’s hand a squeeze, whispered, “Don’t let him get too tired,” and whisked out the door.
Lucky eyed the man so like a father to him. “Boss, I…” Words wouldn’t come. Maybe it was just as well. With his mind on the surveillance tape, Walter might miss Lucky going from hard as nails and twice as pointy to sniffling mess.
Like Walter ever missed much. Even if it was one little sniffle. Disguised in “Glad you’re—”
“I know.” Walter opened his arms.
Lucky shot across the floor and flung himself into Walter’s hug. Judging by the bone-crushing embrace, the boss definitely had regained some strength. Good. Lucky’d take getting his face smushed into wool lapels any day if it meant Walter was on the mend. He had to be. Too much near-loss unhinged a man. First his dad, now Walter. They were both on their feet now, and getting stronger by the day, and maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. If Lucky’d give half a liver to the man who’d cast him out of the family, he’d give Walter twice as much for making Lucky one of his own. If only Lucky had anything to give that would heal Walter faster…
He had nothing but time. And Lucklighter stubbornness. He’d turn that into information. He’d get Walter anything. So would Bo. Walter patted Lucky’s shoulder and gently disengaged.
Lucky sniffed, swiped at his eyes, and sat on a nearby ottoman. “God, I was so worried about you.”
Walter gave a hearty laugh, but his voice didn’t have its normal booming quality. “To tell you the truth, so was I. I’m better now.”
“Things haven’t been the same at work.” A gross understatement. Any happiness in the building left when Walter did.
“I can guess. Fill in the details for me, why don’t you?” Walter put on his favorite uncle act like he’d done so many times, the persona guaranteed to get even the most hardcore cons to spill their guts.
The effect wasn’t lost on Lucky. “O’Donoghue’s taken over the department. Landry, Rogers, and Eustace act like they own the place.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been put on desk duty.”
The furry gray masses above Walter’s eyes jolted upward. “You believe you’re unfairly targeted?”
Lucky shrugged. “Yeah. It’s like O’Donoghue’s trying to get me out of the way.”
“How about the rest of the team?”
The team. The one Lucky never felt a part of until recently. “Lisa’s been a crying mess since you left, no one’s watching the newbies, O’Donoghue makes sure to keep me, Bo, and Johnson apart.”
“I heard you had an altercation with Keith.” Walter sighed. “I’d so hoped the two of you would pull together.”
Oh man, the boss would never believe… “We have, sort of. He’s the one who gave me the info Bo went to get.”
Walter’s eyes went wide. “Really? Then my illness has accomplished what I’ve been trying to do for years. But something is on your mind. Bo and my wife probably warned you not to burden me, but I know you well enough to see something’s bothering you.”
“O’Donoghue grounded me to keep me from digging, but I’ve found evidence that Forsyth Pharmaceuticals is trying to take over Chastain’s outfit to claim a breakthrough diabetes drug.”
Boss went into all business mode, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What evidence do you have?”
“The other company trying to suck them up recently had a fire, knocking them out of the competition. Chastain turned down offers from Forsyth and wouldn’t sell. I think they arranged things so he’d have to.”
“What have you turned up on Forsyth?” Walter tapped his fingers against the chair arm, studying Lucky’s face.
He could stare at Lucky all night if he wanted to, as long as his eyes weren’t clouded over and he wasn’t in the hospital playing human pin cushion.
“They had a top management position open and filled it with a ‘former DEA agent.’” Lucky made air quotes. Now might not be the best time to mention going there himself and his conversation with the woman who’d almost said too much.
“You believe it’s Jameson.”
“Yes, and I know for a fact Phillip Eustace was the one who planted the evidence at Chastain. Owen Landry turned in the report to DEA. You didn’t assign them to check out Chastain, did you?”
“Why would I, with my best agents already performing a full audit?”
Exactly what Lucky thought.
Walter breathed heavily in and out and clenched his fist. “I trust your judgement, always have. You realize Forsyth’s reach is international, do you not?”
“International?” Oh, yeah. His researched turned up international ties.
“Yes. They may be headquartered in Alabama, our jurisdiction, but their reach is so very much farther.” Walter drew his brows together, lips pursed. “Don’t tell anyone at the Atlanta office that I’m recovering, and bring me all the proof you’ve collected.”
Lucky’s heart thudded. “You’re calling in the big dogs, aren’t you?”
“If I have to.”
They spent the next half hour with Lucky giving a play by play of the goings on at work.
Bo strode in with a backpack, parked Lucky’s laptop on Walter’s knees, and fired up the video.
As Keith had done, Lucky remained quiet, letting the boss draw his own conclusions. Lucky poked Bo and nodded toward Walter’s reddening face.
After two viewings Walter clicked off the screen. “I want everything you have by tomorrow morning.”
***
The boys were asleep by the time Bo and Lucky got home, and a dishwasher full of dishes showed the results of Bo’s dinner instructions.
Lucky dropped his suit jacket over the back of a kitchen chair. He patted his stomach, full of roast beef, potatoes, and macaroni pie. Maybe eating two servings of beef hid the fact that he’d avoided all vegetables.
He put the wrapped plates Mrs. Smith sent for Todd and Ty in the refrigerator.
Walter was back, maybe not completely, but his fifty percent beat most other people’s one hundred.
No one else needed to know. At least not yet.
Bo returned from the bedroom, sans jacket, stepped up and took both of Lucky’s hands. “It’s going to be okay.” He rubbed his fingers over Lucky’s, offering loads of reassurance in one small gesture. “It’s all going to be okay.”
“Yeah, but we have to keep our mouths shut for a while.” Which might kill Lucky. He’d love to go strutting into the office, crowing to anyone who’d listen that O’Donoghue was on his way down.
Lucky intended to send the lackeys with him.
Bo wrapped a hand around the back of Lucky’s neck and pulled him close enough to lock lips. Lucky fought the urge to check over his shoulder to ensure his nephews weren’t watching.
Too hell with it. Todd would soon be in college, where’d he’d likely encounter gay couples, if he hadn’t already. If it grossed the boys out to see their uncles kiss? Oh, well. Lucky’d had one hell of a day, and if he chose to take the comfort of a kiss, then he’d earned the right.
He never intended to go further than a light kiss, but the heat escalated with each tongue stroke, with each slide of Bo’s hand down his arm.
A moan escaped him, followed by another, and another.
Locked in an embrace, they swayed together, working their way down the hall.
A noise from the guest room brought their progress to a halt and they both eyed the door. Lucky listened long enough to figure out Moose and Cat Lucky wouldn’t be bothering him anytime soon.
As one he and Bo let out a deep breath a few moments later when nothing else happened. Grinning like loons, they raced the remaining steps to their room and eased the door shut.
The streetlight outside washed the room in a soft glow.
Lucky winced at the click.
“Would you relax?” Bo pressed his mouth to Lucky’s.
Relax? With his nerves wound to the breaking point, nephews likely eavesdropping on their every word, and…
Lucky broke away, locked the door, and turned on the stereo, loud enough to hopefully drown out any noises, but not loud enough to advertise what they did.
Bo kissed him again, wiping away any thoughts beyond the here and now, tongue, lips, hands, skin and “Oh, right there!”
They hadn’t really gotten started yet and already Lucky wanted to throw Bo on the bed and fuck him like there’d be no tomorrow.
But there would be a tomorrow, and God willing, a tomorrow after that, and another, and another.
A whole lifetime stretched out before them.
He sucked at the base of Bo’s throat, reaching around to grab a double handful of Bo’s fabulous ass. Bo rocked toward him, hard-on apparent at the front of his suit pants. One good thing about suits—not nearly as thick as jeans and so much easier to remove.
Lucky pressed his answering hardness against Bo’s thigh, untucking and running his hands up the back of Bo’s shirt. Sinewy muscles flexed under his fingertips, and Bo exhaled in breathy pants.
“You like that?” Lucky stepped back and undid each button on Bo’s shirt, unveiling more skin for him to lick, kiss, and suck.
“Yaaaaasssss!” Bo groaned.
Lucky thrust the shirt off Bo’s shoulders and onto the floor. There! Much better. He attacked a nipple with his mouth, working the bit of flesh into a hard nub, then giving the other side the same treatment.
Placing his hands firmly against Bo’s chest, Lucky sank onto his knees, dragging his fingers down Bo’s torso, sifting through Bo’s treasure trail, and settling at last on his belt buckle.
Lucky made short work of buckle, button and zipper, careful of the inviting erection tenting out Bo’s boxer briefs.
He mouthed the hard flesh through a layer of cotton, breathing deeply of the scent of man and pre-cum. Bit by bit he pulled the elastic away from Bo’s body and slipped the obstacle out of the way.
Humming softly, he wrapped his mouth around the amazing fullness of Bo’s cock head, tasting the drop of fluid at the tip. He’d never grow tired of Bo’s taste, his smell—his everything.
He reached down a hand and stroked himself through the dress pants he couldn’t wait to lose.
Bo grabbed Lucky’s tie, urging him upward.
Nothing beat an aggressive Bo.
“When all this is over, I’m taking you to a cabin in the woods, with no one for miles around, and spend an entire weekend making you scream my name,” Bo murmured against Lucky’s ear. “Your lips will be swollen from sucking me, and you’ll be walking bow-legged for a week.”
“Oh, you sweet talker, you.” Warmth flooded Lucky, the words Bo’s way of saying they were on the same page, together for the long haul.
Yes, he wanted Bo to take him away, fuck him senseless for an entire weekend.
He’d return the favor.
Bo unknotted the tie from around Lucky’s neck and pulled one end. The silk slithered free of Lucky’s shirt. One side of his mouth lifting, Bo whispered, “For later,” and draped the material over his shoulder.
Oh? Lucky’s cock stiffened even more.
Bo unbuttoned Lucky’s shirt, and together they worked to remove each other’s remaining clothes.
Moonlight poured in from the windows, casting shadows and light over Bo’s body. All defined muscles and sleek build. Perfection.
Lucky ran his hand up Bo’s arms, hair prickling his fingers until the strands thinned to smooth skin on Bo’s upper arms and shoulders.
He leaned in, brushing his lips over Bo’s. “God, but I love you,” he said, cutting off any reply Bo might have made with a bruising, tongue on tongue conquest of Bo’s mouth.
The walls Lucky had once built around his heart lay in shambles at his feet along with discarded clothes.
He traced his lips along Bo’s jaw, now lightly rough with stubble.
Swaying from side to side brought his cock wonderful friction against Bo’s balls. With a firm push he sent Bo sprawling across the bed.
Lucky dropped to his knees, spreading Bo’s legs wide, exposing all the lovely places he planned to put his tongue. He sucked one ball into his mouth, then the other, and dropped lower, wringing moans from Bo with his tongue and his breath.
He wrapped a hand around Bo’s cock and stroked, matching the rhythm of his tongue and hand.
Bo cried out, arching off the bed, and dropped down again when Lucky retreated.
Again and again Lucky licked and sucked until Bo trembled, and each time stopped in time to keep Bo from tipping over the edge.
“Tease,” Bo grumbled, but he let out a whimper when Lucky tongued him again.
Lucky ached for release, or at least some friction, as he didn’t even touch himself, prolonging the torture. When he finally came, it’d be like Fourth of July and New Years’ all rolled into one.
He repositioned himself, cock hanging over Bo’s mouth and his on Bo’s hard length. Moist heat caressed his flesh, and then, oh, damn, Bo licked a swath up Lucky’s cock. Lightning flashed behind his closed eyelids and he drew in a breath.
His arms trembled and he nearly fell. He steadied himself, focusing on Bo to stave off his fast approaching orgasm.
The world spun, and when he glanced up, Bo hovered over him.
Lucky’s cock cried out for relief when Bo reached into the nightstand, extracted a tube, and wet two fingers with lube.
Bo’s fingers glistened in the low light and he stood, one foot on the floor and one on the bed, giving Lucky a show while he prepared himself.
“Aahh!” …Lucky moaned on an exhale. “You’re killing me.”
“La petite mort,” Bo replied.
Whatever the hell that meant. Especially when Bo climbed back onto the bed, positioned himself, and slid down Lucky’s cock with a hiss.
Lucky panted, the pleasure nearly too intense to bear. Bo squeezed Lucky’s cock, the smooth glide of his up and down motion bringing Lucky closer and closer to bliss.
Oh damn, oh damn. Just a little more…
Bo stopped. What the fuck. No! Don’t stop!
“Two can play your game.” Bo grinned down at him.
Lucky ran his palm across the glistening tip of Bo’s cock, wrapped his hand around the hard flesh, and pumped.
“No fair!” Bo cried out, bracing his hands on Lucky’s chest and rocking back and forth.
Lucky arched up, once, twice, three times…
“Oh, fuck!” He fired pulse after pulse into Bo.
“Lucky!” Bo tensed.
Lucky grip grew slick, Bo’s come filling his hand.
Aftershocks hit and Lucky lunged upward, riding waves of sheer ecstasy.
That was… that was…
“Damn!” he and Bo exclaimed together.
Bo leaned over and ran his tongue along the seam of Lucky’s lips. Lucky gladly opened to him.
All too soon he softened and slipped from Bo’s body. No matter how many times they were together, the encounters always ended too soon. If he had his way they’d be joined always, pleasing each other, loving each other, hiding out in each other’s arms, away from the cares of the world.
Bo grabbed the remote from the nightstand, clicked off the stereo, and eased down beside Lucky, drawing Lucky’s head onto his chest. Bo’s heart ker-thumped under Lucky’s ear, and his chest rose and fell while they both recovered.
They were coated in a sticky mess and should probably get up and take a shower, but right now Lucky couldn’t bring himself to give a happy damn.
He never thought he’d ever find someone he could say the words to, and actually mean them, but “I love you” tripped from his lips so easily these days. And from his heart.
“I love you too.” Bo planted a kiss on the top of Lucky’s head.
They held each other, not saying a word. They needed nothing else in that moment to feel complete. Nothing at all.
Tomorrow he’d have to deal with the real world.
Tomorrow.
Not now.
Until… “I’m taking the Camaro. Uncle Lucky won’t mind” from down the hall broke the quiet.
Lucky yanked on his boxers and charged from the room. “Oh, hell yes, he’ll mind!”