Suspicion (Diversion Book 7) Page 13

  “What has she done to make you distrust her?” Bo kept his voice calm, like he wasn’t asking a question aimed right at Lucky’s insides.

  “I’ve already told you she tells O’Donoghue everything I say. She’s also dating Phillip.”

  “And helping us out with the boys. Do you really think she’d backstab you? She’s your friend.”

  That was what hurt the most. Lucky didn’t have many friends, and she’d wormed her way into the title.

  “Would you please go talk to her? Maybe she can help you figure out what’s really going on.”

  Lucky wouldn’t bring up Keith’s note. Not now. “I also think someone installed a camera in our cube.” He braced for Bo to accuse him of being paranoid.

  Bo polished off the last of his oatmeal and started picking at a plateful of chopped fruit. “A camera is easy enough to find and take care of. And whoever comes sniffing around to find out what happened will leave with regrets. You’re not thinking Keith did it, are you?”

  “Oddly enough, no.”

  “So, what are you going to do about your job?”

  “I don’t know.” Lucky loaded jelly on a piece of toast.

  “If he’s saying you’re burned out, make the most of it. Talk to your counselor, then take a leave of absence.”

  “O’Donoghue wants to pick the counselor.”

  “He’s going too far.”

  “I wish Walter was back.”

  “Me too. But Lucky?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Worst case, we’ll find a way to make things work. If he fires you, stay home with Todd and Ty. Help Charlotte move. Spend time with your folks.”

  Leaving Bo the sole provider? “Our lifestyle needs two incomes.”

  “Right now. We could tighten our belts. I told you a while back that I can dance a few nights a week at The Stallion.”

  Oh, hell no. Lucky wasn’t going to let Bo do something he hated just to pay the bills. “I’m not sitting on my ass while you work two jobs.”

  “I’m just saying, don’t worry. No matter what, we’ll make it.” Bo reached for Lucky’s hand. “We’ll be fine.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “No, I wish I did. But I’m here for you for the long haul, so no matter what comes our way, we’ll face it together.”

  “I don’t want to drag you with me if I’m going down.”

  Bo’s throat worked with the force of his swallow. “Marry me.”

  “What?”

  “Marry me,” Bo said more firmly. “That solves the fraternization bullshit, because other married couples work there. I’ll be able to add you to my insurance if you find yourself out of work. We’ll also get tax breaks.” He met and held Lucky’s gaze. “Remember how the nurse reacted at the hospital? There’s advantages to us being married.”

  Exactly what Lucky wanted, but for the wrong reasons. “No.”

  What the fuck? What he wanted wandered into his grasp and he swatted it away? Maybe O’Donoghue was on to something. Lucky had finally lost his ever-loving mind.

  “No? Not too long ago you were asking me.” Bo’s voice held only curiosity, not anger.

  Lucky still carried the rings in his pocket. Every damned day. “I’m saying no for the same reasons you did. I’m not going to go into marriage as a business deal. Besides, us getting married might mean O’Donoghue fires you too.” His career might be tanking, but he wouldn’t let Bo’s go down the drain on his account. Besides, one of them needed to stick around and be there when Walter returned. When, not if.

  “Lucky.”

  “Bo.”

  Bo’s sigh lasted a full ten seconds. “Okay. You win. Not the time, not the place. Someday.”

  Hopefully “someday” didn’t mean “when Hell freezes over.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Johnson’s Jeep sat in the driveway when they got home, next to Bo’s Durango.

  “What’s she doing here?” Lucky growled.

  “Wow, I really did fuck you stupid if you forgot she picked Todd up.”

  “She could be in there snooping around for O’Donoghue.” Phillip wasn’t much to meet the eye, but somehow, he must’ve pulled the woman over to the dark side.

  “If she wanted to snoop she’d probably pick a better time than us due home at any moment.” Bo swung open the car door. “Besides, have you forgotten you gave her a key to the house so she can keep an eye on things if we need her to?”

  Damn. Lucky had forgotten. “We need to change the locks. I don’t want her having access to our home.” Speaking of… Lucky locked the car the moment he and Bo shut the doors.

  Bo rounded the front of the car, threw an arm around Lucky’s shoulders, and guided him toward the door. “What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’? I agree there might be circumstantial evidence, but I wouldn’t write her off without solid proof. We need all the friends we can get right now.”

  “We,” not “you,” went a long way toward calming Lucky’s ass down. He wasn’t alone. Bo had his back.

  And any other part of Lucky he wanted.

  Lucky listened at the front door. No music, no TV, no video games, no talking.

  Johnson looked up from the couch when they came in the door. “Oh, hi, y’all. The boys went to bed about ten minutes ago.” She cocked a brow and ran an assessing gaze up and down Lucky’s body, but she didn’t ask about the tattered shirt.

  “Where’s your son?” Lucky asked.

  “At the apartment. Gran put him to bed.”

  “Thanks for everything, Loretta.” Bo gave her a hug as she stood.

  “Thank you! I’d never have gotten that bookcase put together on my own.”

  She and Lucky hadn’t progressed to casual hugging yet. If she turned out to be a traitor, they wouldn’t. The position put her just right to slam a knife into his back. “Night, Johnson.”

  She didn’t comment on him not calling her Rett. Only her friends called her Rett, she’d said. They might not be friends anymore, if they ever were.

  ***

  Lucky rolled over for the hundredth time. Bo wrapped an arm around him, spooning against his back. “I know you have a lot on your mind, but you need to sleep.”

  If only. “I want to ask you something.”

  “You can ask me anything. What?”

  “Lately you’ve been cuffing me for sex. I know you don’t like restraints yourself. Are you doing that just for me?”

  Bo’s chuckle caressed Lucky’s ear. “It should’ve been obvious I enjoyed it too.”

  Lucky turned, meeting Bo’s gaze in the near darkness. “I don’t want you doing things that make you uncomfortable, even to make me happy.” He amended, “Especially to make me happy.”

  “I don’t mind, really.”

  “You don’t sacrifice for me, got that?” Lucky stroked Bo’s clenching jaw.

  Bo relaxed. “Sorry. At first, I did it to push past my fears, then…” He shrugged. “I kinda get off on having control over you like that.”

  “Really?” Oh, dear God. Fantasies formed in Lucky’s mind. The fun they’d have.

  “Really. Is that a problem?”

  “Only if you do things you’re not comfortable with. Promise me you won’t do that.”

  “I won’t.”

  Lucky twisted and turned some more, sleep laughing at him and skipping out of reach.

  Bo sat up in bed. “I know something that might help.”

  “But the boys…”

  “Shh… I wasn’t talking about sex. Roll over onto your stomach.”

  “I thought you weren’t talking about sex,” Lucky quipped. What the hell was the man up to?

  “Trust me.” Bo got up and strolled into the bathroom, returning a moment later. “You’re not on your stomach. Do I have to cuff you again to get you to accept a shoulder massage?”

  Massage? Lucky did as told.

  Bo climbed onto the bed and positioned himself over Lucky’s ass. The familiar pop of
a bottle top broke the quiet. Bo kneaded Lucky’s shoulders. “Now, you’ve asked something of me, I’m going to ask something of you.”

  Oh shit. “What?”

  Bo dug his knuckles into a knot on Lucky’s back. Lucky let out a groan. “Stop trying to take care of everything. Tell me stuff and let me help.”

  ***

  Being domestic had its bad side: cleaning all day Saturday and doing laundry, but on a positive note, Lucky no longer tripped over discarded shoes, always had clean clothes to wear, and got home-cooked meals.

  Bo took the boys to run errands, and hopefully would bring back some kind of greasy fast food he normally didn’t allow in the house. Lucky had a sneaky feeling he’d engineered the time alone for Lucky to get his shit together.

  At least while the boys were there Lucky got to eat more pizza. And bacon.

  He sat on the back deck, Moose lying beside him, letting out a soft snore. Cat Lucky lounged on the railing, growling every now and then when the neighbor’s beagle came into sight through the missing slat in the privacy fence.

  Vibration in his pocket sent him digging a hand in for his phone. Bo must have forgotten something. Unknown number? Nope, not answering.

  The vibration stopped. No message popped up. Probably a telemarketer.

  The phone rang again, same number. So much for having a day off. He answered, “Harrison,” and braced for someone trying to sell him something.

  “Lucky? Oh, thank God!” The undeniable relief in the woman’s voice sent alarm bells clanging in Lucky’s head.

  “Who is this?”

  “Lisa. From work.”

  “Lisa?” Why the hell would she call Lucky and not Bo? “What’s wrong?”

  “Look, are you busy? Right now?”

  “Not really.” Unless scratching his belly counted.

  “Bo’s not around, is he?”

  “No.”

  A sigh wafted over the phone. “Good. Look, I’m planning a surprise party for his birthday, and I really need to talk to you.”

  “Now? Bo’s birthday is weeks away.”

  A pause, and then, “I need to do this now. Like, right now.”

  Something was going on, and he’d bet good money it wasn’t a surprise party. “Where?”

  “Umm… You know where I live, right?”

  “Yes.” Or rather, he knew how to find out.

  “Can you be here, in say, an hour?”

  “Sure.” He tried to sound enthusiastic. There went his leisurely evening. “But tell me this, is something wrong?”

  Lisa paused, and, voice taking on a cheerful note, she said, “Great, can’t wait to see you.”

  “Should I call the cops?”

  She let out a strained giggle. “No, that’s all right. I have plenty of wine.”

  What the fuck? She hung up before he could ask more. Her voice hadn’t sounded drunk, but she sure did.

  Or rather, she sounded like a woman putting on a performance for someone else. She didn’t want the cops, but she did want Lucky.

  Strange.

  Lucky dashed into the house and grabbed his laptop. He checked the company file for Lisa’s address, and checked the Internet for satellite images.

  Best not go in blind.

  ***

  Lucky parked at a grocery store a half mile away and jogged to Lisa’s neighborhood. Her car and her husband’s truck sat in the driveway. The same cars filled the neighbors’ driveways as of the last satellite check.

  He eased into the woods, black clothing—still stained with paintball spatters—hiding him in the shadows. Slowly, slowly, he slunk up to the back of the house. Good thing Lisa didn’t own a dog. Moose would be barking his fool head off by now.

  Lights shone from the front windows. Upstairs, blueish dimness gave a soft glow in the front bedroom window. Lucky’s insides gave a twist. The baby’s room, most likely. Whatever made Lisa nervous better not mess with the kid.

  Or Lisa.

  Oh, hell. Might as well toss in the husband too while in a save the world mood.

  Lucky circled the house, pulse throbbing in his ears and Glock at the ready. Not as sturdy and reassuring as his .38, but lighter, easier to conceal, and plenty of stopping power. An overcast evening created early nightfall, helping him avoid detection. Not many people milled about on a Saturday night when thunder rumbled in the distance.

  In his younger days he might’ve shimmied up the downspout. He’d put his body through too many beatings in the past few years. Instead he shoved the gun into his shoulder holster and climbed an oak tree with limbs spreading way too close to the upstairs window. He’d have to tell Lisa to get someone in here to remove the easy access to her house.

  A partially opened window beckoned. Even if there were security system contacts in place, the open window meant it was deactivated. He listened at the window. Not a sound. He wriggled through. No noises, though the scent of tomato sauce and spices drifted up from the kitchen.

  The room he stood in housed toys, a rocking horse, and a playpen, but no crib. A playroom then. If and when Lucky and Bo had kids, they might want to consider a setup like this.

  He crept across the room in semidarkness, avoiding squeaky toys and any other items prone to giving away his presence. Lisa likely expected him to pull up in the driveway, and ten minutes remained on the hour she’d allowed for him to arrive.

  He inched out to the landing, back against the wall, studying each shadow. Lights from down below illuminated the living room, and shadows across the floor marked the passage of at least two people. Straining his ears revealed three voices: Lisa’s, her husband’s, and someone else’s.

  No extra car in the driveway.

  Had he been called into a hostage situation?

  Timing his footfalls to the conversation, he made his way to the baby’s room. Lisa’s toddler lay in his bed in a blue onesie, thumb in mouth and fast asleep. Cute little tyke. Thank God he was up here and safe instead of down below facing who knew what.

  One by one Lucky slipped down the stairs, keeping to the outer edge to avoid loose or squeaky boards—a trick he’d learned in his teenaged years while breaking curfew.

  Pausing to take a lay of the land, he tracked three adults in the kitchen. Occasionally Lisa let out a shrill comment. She wasn’t happy with whomever had invaded her home, but she didn’t sound scared.

  Lucky crouched and waited outside the kitchen door. He’d sprung traps a whole lot easier three or four years ago. He schooled his breathing, shifting his weight like he’d learned to in the boxing ring.

  Whoever pissed Lisa off had a date with his right fist.

  The baby squalled. Lisa shot out of the kitchen. Lucky grabbed her and slapped a hand over her mouth.

  She struggled.

  “Shh… It’s me.” The wailing baby covered Lucky’s words. “Is everything okay?” He released his hold.

  “Not really,” she said, “and I’m so sorry to bring you here with so much cloak and dagger, but he”—she hiked a thumb toward the kitchen— “wouldn’t take no for an answer or let me tell you the truth.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “About time you got here,” a voice drawled from the doorway.

  Lucky froze.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lisa shot up the stairs toward her child and Lucky spun, aiming his gun at the last man he’d expected to see.

  Despite the venom in his words, Keith wasn’t sneering or smirking, his normal facial expressions when around Lucky.

  “What the…”

  Keith put a finger to his lips, held out a familiar device, and made twirling motions with his finger.

  Did the asshat think Lucky low enough to bug their conversations? Keith specialized in surveillance, Lucky in everything else. Besides, he didn’t even know they were going to meet.

  Whipping his head around to keep eyes on his nemesis, he turned, arms out to the side, but gun still at the ready.

  Keith ran the wand up and down his body. No
thing. Lucky expected no less.

  “How about you?” Whatever the hell Keith wanted couldn’t be good.

  The greasy stain on the SNB surrendered the wand. “Nothing on me.” He placed his hands on his head and allowed Lucky to swipe him down.

  “Why are you here?” Lucky asked. “Couldn’t you just speak to me at work or in the gym? Send an e-mail? Call me?”

  Keith shook his head. “No one saw me come here, and since you didn’t enter through the front door, I’m guessing the same about you. I wanted to meet face to face, and iPhones are easy enough to monitor.”

  Maybe the guy possessed more brains than Lucky gave him credit for. “Mind telling me what this is about?” Lucky waved the wand in the air.

  Staring down four or five inches to make eye contact, Keith murmured, “Someone’s watching you.”

  “You mean, other than you?” Lucky had no intention of sharing information about O’Donoghue’s lapdogs. No sharing info until Keith brought something worthwhile to the table. Yeah, he’d tipped Lucky off about a possible cube camera, but nothing solid.

  Cabinet doors opening and closing in the kitchen gave away the location of Lisa’s husband. The baby no longer cried, but Lisa didn’t return.

  Keith collapsed against the wall. “You have no reason to trust me, but hear me out, okay?”

  “I’m listening.” Not that the shithead would say anything Lucky wanted to hear.

  “The morning Walter collapsed he’d called you into his office to discuss the DEA findings on a place you’d given a positive report.” Keith’s gaze never wavered. “I was scheduled out of the office and wanted to witness the smackdown you were sure to get, so I installed a camera in the corner of Walter’s office.”

  “You what?” The little shit had a bruising coming.

  Keith waved his hands to stave off any blows Lucky planned to aim his way. “Let me say what I need to, all right? If not for me, then for Walter.”

  “Don’t you dare…”

  The man in more trouble than he realized stepped back. “I put a camera in his office, and it’s too late to do anything about it.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “I think you need to see this.”

  Lucky narrowed his gaze. “What is it?”