Suspicion (Diversion Book 7) Page 9

  Like hell, he would!

  Lucky stormed down the hall. Just wait until he got his hands on… He slammed into somebody who let out a surprised, “Oof!”

  “Damn it, Lucky,” Johnson yelped. “Watch where you’re going! You almost knocked me over.”

  He’d apologize later, after his mission. “I’m going to cuss out the bastard moving into Walter’s office.”

  Johnson grabbed him by the arm and spun him around when he tried to walk off. “Who?”

  “O’Donoghue.”

  “What the fuck is he doing moving into Walter’s office?” She released Lucky, glare scary enough to make even hardened criminals haul ass. “Walter’s only been gone a week.”

  “I have no idea. But I aim to find out.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Um… y’all?” Bo ventured, holding up his laptop.

  Lucky and Johnson both turned. “What?” Lucky barked.

  “You need to see this. It’s a memo from the corporate office.” Bo shifted his laptop to give them a better view of the screen.

  “Until further notice, Jameson O’Donoghue will be managing the Atlanta office of Diversion Prevention and Control.”

  Screw that.

  ***

  Lucky stood on the stoop of his house, noting the steady thrumming from within. More than likely his nephews had spent the afternoon playing video games, watching TV, or chatting with friends via phones or laptops.

  Kids. Whatever happened to getting outdoors every once in a while? He opened the door.

  “You’re home! I need your help with alge—” Ty barreled through the kitchen door and stopped so hard he nearly toppled over. “Oh, it’s you.” He frowned, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Hey, Uncle Richie,” Todd called from the couch, where he sat with a lapful, literally, of dog. Moose likely weighed more than Todd. He turned a brilliant shade of red. “Oh. I’m sorry. I mean, Uncle Lucky.”

  Lucky threw up a hand at the behaving nephew and scowled at Emo Kid. No. Intimidation wasn’t the way he should treat teenagers. After all, this wasn’t work, and Ty wasn’t a rookie. If he’d been a rookie Lucky would’ve sorted him out by now.

  Half-witted recruits were so much easier to deal with than flesh and blood relatives. You could kick their asses in a boxing ring and not have the rest of the family bring it up and take sides at the next holiday.

  Besides, he didn’t love the rookies.

  “Mind telling me what I did to piss you off?” Lucky asked. His younger nephew had been fine when they’d first reconnected.

  Ty scrunched his face, nose wrinkling. “By being a loser.” He darted down the hall and slammed the door to his room.

  Lucky winced. Whatever had he done?

  Todd continued dog spoiling so Lucky stepped out on the back deck. Cat Lucky followed him out. He plopped down in a chair and the black and white feline hopped into his lap.

  Lucky idly stroked the critter while calling his sister.

  “Hey, Ri… Lucky. What’s up? Boys driving you crazy?” Charlotte’s voice eased some of his strain. The fact she’d given up his childhood name of Richie in favor of Lucky proved her devotion.

  “They’re all right, but let me ask you something. Have I done or said anything to piss Ty off? He talks nonstop to Bo, but anytime I walk into a room he bolts down the hall and slams the door.”

  Charlotte sighed. “He does that to me too.”

  “Then I shouldn’t take ‘loser’ personally?”

  Charlotte stayed quiet for a few moments before answering. “He’s spent his whole life here. Doesn’t know anything else. He’s changing schools, friends. He’ll be okay, just give him time.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Once, Lucky wouldn’t have cared what anyone thought of him. Times changed a man. He’d held Ty in his arms the day the kid came screaming into the world. Had read to him, babysat him, sometimes imagining one day having his own kids.

  Before he’d gone to prison. Hadn’t seen them in years. He’d sent presents at birthdays and Christmas when he could, wasn’t that enough?

  Would it be enough for you? he imagined Bo asking.

  No. It wouldn’t. He’d failed. Alienated the boys. Todd seemed forgiving, or rather, he might not care, as involved as he was in preparing for college and beating everyone in the country’s high score on video games. Lucky had waited too late to reconnect. Soon Todd would be living his own life and Lucky might not get to see him much, if at all.

  He still had a few years to bond with Ty. He’d do his best for both boys.

  The moment Walter had changed his name and expunged his record, he should have gone directly to Spokane.

  Ty still spoke to Bo, which eased the strain of his visit.

  “You tell Ty if he doesn’t behave, I’ll give him what for when I get down there.” Anger brought out more Southern in Charlotte’s voice.

  “How are things going up there?” God, he missed her.

  Charlotte’s tone lightened. “The house closing is in two weeks, so I’m packing up. Might be a bit hard to get a moving company at this time of year with so many students heading into dorms. You know, it’s kind of bittersweet. On the one hand, selling allows me to live closer to you and finally go to nursing school, but this house holds so many memories. The boys opening their gifts on Christmas morning. Ty learning to ride a bike in the driveway.” She sniffled.

  Coming home and finding gifts from a chickenshit brother too scared to deliver them in person.

  Easy to visualize Charlotte’s wistful smile. “I’ll be back soon. I… I miss you, brother, and look forward to catching up on lost time.”

  All the time we missed.

  Because of Lucky’s bullheadedness.

  ***

  Lucky stepped into the kitchen, stopped, and leaned against the doorway.

  Ty and Bo sat at the kitchen table, Moose sprawled at their feet, Cat Lucky nowhere to be seen. Probably in Todd’s lap somewhere.

  “… and then Todd…” Ty chattered away, a mile a minute, regaling Bo with stories his brother might not want broadcasted, with texts and notebooks spread out around them. Reminded Lucky of Charlotte at that age, so full of life, so excited about everything.

  Until she’d crossed paths with a loser and wound up seeing the world through haunted eyes. Did she even date? She hadn’t told him of any men since her ex-husband, so if she’d had boyfriends over the years, she’d certainly not mentioned them to Lucky.

  The nurse who’d tended him when he’d donated part of his liver to his dad—and later turned out to be from the bureau’s Virginia office—had shown interest.

  She needed a boyfriend, in case Jimmy or whatever-the-hell-his-name-was made good on his threat to transfer to Atlanta.

  Lucky had never told Charlotte about her admirer and wouldn’t.

  “Your mom says she’ll be back soon,” Lucky said.

  At the first word out of his mouth, Ty froze and slumped, all his excitement gone.

  One day maybe the kid would forgive an errant uncle enough to talk to him.

  Until then, he’d be on the outside, uncomfortable in his own house. Everyone else got along fine. The old him wouldn’t have minded. Much. Especially since he worked hard at being a total bastard.

  So why did being outcast bother him now?

  Chapter Eight

  “You better get back soon. That shit O’Donoghue’s being an asshole.” Even with Walter lying in bed unresponsive Lucky couldn’t tell him the jerk took over the office.

  The office? No, Walter’s office.

  Lucky sat in the chair at Walter’s bedside. The old man’s skin now held a healthier, if pale, color, and they’d removed the horrid mask from over his face. He still had tubes running under his nose and into his nostrils. The place reeked of antiseptic. Lucky’d wound up spending way too much time in hospitals lately.

  “My nephews are running me ragged. Was I that hard to understand at sixteen? Jeez!” He stared at the
man lying immobile on the bed. “Moose sends you a tail wag and expects you to come over and give him a belly rub.” Babbling didn’t keep Lucky’s brain from churning.

  Walter might not wake up—or wake up a lot less than Lucky remembered. What would happen to him? Walter and his wife had no kids. Who’d take care of the house? Mrs. Smith didn’t drive. Who’d take her to the grocery store, especially since delivery hadn’t come to their neck of the woods yet?

  Ty was sixteen. Wanted to drive. Giving the kid something to do on weekends might take his mind off his problems, make him feel needed. He could cut grass. Lucky’d pay him, or work with him. Maybe they’d finally reach an understanding. It would do him good to take on some responsibility, earn some money. And Mrs. Smith wouldn’t be alone.

  Or he could get Todd off the couch during the day. Ride to work with Bo and leave the Camaro.

  Lucky could…

  Lucky stopped cold. Had he really been planning for the worst? No. The game couldn’t be over for Walter. If anyone could beat whatever the hell happened to him, Mt. Walter could.

  Only, what had happened to him to begin with? All tests came out negative, except for the ones Walter had already mentioned would be out of normal range.

  What if… What if…

  What if Walter’s attack wasn’t from natural causes?

  ***

  Washed up, wrung out, and hung out to dry. That’s how Lucky felt. Squeezed of all emotion after a weekend spent more or less at the hospital. He’d woken up to a lot of Mondays in his life, and they’d all sucked.

  He stepped off the elevator onto the floor housing the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau’s Department of Diversion Prevention and Control. Lisa jumped out from behind the reception desk the moment he passed by.

  “Lu… I mean, Mr. Harrison?” She gave him a fleeting smile.

  “Yes?” While he’d been known to socialize with the receptionist, her husband, and her kid, she usually kept a formal distance at work.

  Lisa came close, keeping her voice low. “Any word on Mr. Smith?”

  “They didn’t tell me much.” Not that the doctors admitted not knowing anything, even though Mrs. Smith kept up the charade of Lucky being her son. Doctors were supposed to be experts, right? “Too early to tell,” they said, and “we can’t be certain of permanent damage.” Worthless, the lot of them.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The department sent flowers.” She wrung her hands, keeping her eyes downcast.

  Ah, hell. He’d been too caught up in his own pity party to realize she suffered too. She’d probably started working here fresh out of college, had known Walter for years. More than likely he’d been like a father to her too.

  “You okay?” He’d never gotten good at the comforting people thing, but he wasn’t a total jerk. Bo wouldn’t let him be.

  She sniffled. No! Not tears! He jerked his head right and left, searching for someone, anyone. Where was Bo? Could they tag up?

  Lisa buried her face on Lucky’s shoulder. Sobs wracked her body.

  Well, damn. If she was his sister, he would want someone to comfort her. He wrapped his arms around the tiny blonde. She wept harder. If she didn’t stop soon, he’d join her.

  Her hair smelled fruity and she wore soft perfume. Bo wore cologne.

  So did Walter.

  Suddenly he didn’t mind the trembling body. “What are we going to do, if he… if he…” Lisa wailed.

  “Shh… He won’t,” Lucky assured her, though his heart twisted at the possibility. He stroked her head, her hair soft against his fingertips.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here? You decide to finally try women? I’m not sure Lisa’s husband’s gonna like sharing.”

  The venom in the voice ran Lucky’s blood cold. He turned his head, but Lisa clung too tightly for him to let go. “What is your problem?”

  Keith, the man who’d gotten on Lucky’s bad side the day he’d shown up at the bureau. He’d been out of the office long enough for Lucky to hope he’d never come back.

  Yet, he had.

  “What’s wrong?” Keith chided. “Your boyfriend get tired of your worthless ass and leave you?”

  Lisa struggled. Lucky let her go, put himself between her and Keith, and gave his best back-the-fuck-off scowl. “Let me tell you one thing, you sonofabitch—”

  Lisa stepped out from behind Lucky, glaring at Keith. “Walter Smith had a heart attack, you ass!”

  For a moment, Keith’s eyes went wide, then took on a predatory gleam. “Oh. So that’s it. With Walter gone, no one’s left to defend you. Start packing now, ‘cause your days here are numbered.”

  How dare this motherfucker talk about Walter! Heat bubbled up inside, and Lucky’s vision blackened around the edges. All he saw clearly was the smirking face of his enemy.

  He swung…

  Arms wrapped around him from behind, like bands of steel. “Let me go. I’m gonna kick his useless ass!”

  Safe again, Keith sneered, “You and whose army?”

  Lucky lunged but the arms held tight.

  Bo growled into his ear, “What is this about?”

  Lisa snarled, “Keith talked smack about Walter.”

  Bo spoke over Lucky’s shoulder. “Is that true?”

  Keith laughed. “This ex-con piece of shit wouldn’t even be working here if Smith hadn’t pulled some strings.”

  Bo stiffened and ice dripped from his words. “You do realize that Walter Smith is in the hospital fighting for his life, right?”

  Keith flinched, but wasn’t smart enough to shut up. “Schollenberger, I’ve nothing but respect for the man, but he must’ve stood too close to a crack dealer the day he brought that pile of filth onboard permanently.” He nodded toward Lucky.

  Boss had also legally changed Lucky’s name and made his criminal record disappear. No one was supposed to mention who Lucky used to be. Keith threatened to undo all Walter’s hard work to give Lucky a second chance.

  Bo replied calmly. Years spent with the man allowed Lucky to hear the underlying threat. “Don’t try to drag me into your petty pissing contest, Keith. The only pile of filth I see is you. If you say one more thing about Walter—”

  “Yeah, Keith.” Lisa glared at Keith. “As soon as Walter gets back…”

  “He’s not coming back!” Keith screeched. “He’s gone.”

  “I tried being reasonable.” Bo released his hold.

  Lucky lunged. Fist met jaw with a satisfying crunch.

  Keith reeled. The gathering crowd jumped back and let him fall. He writhed on the floor, clutching his face.

  Applause drowned out his protests.

  “What the fucking hell is going on here?” Jameson O’Donoghue thundered down the hall, trailed by his pet assistant, Phillip. The crowd parted to let him through.

  “He hit me!” Keith struggled to regain his feet and failed, either for show or for sympathy. He gave Lucky a smug grin.

  “I’d be happy to do it again, asswipe,” Lucky growled.

  “Anybody doing any hitting around here, it will be me.” O’Donoghue stood with his hands on his hips, face scrunched into a scowl.

  Lucky wore it better. He clenched his jaw.

  Instead of addressing Lucky, O’Donoghue spoke to a rookie standing close by. “Did you see what happened?”

  “Yessir. Keith was being a dick about Mr. Smith’s heart attack,” the woman replied. Maybe Lucky wouldn’t be so hard on her the next time they met.

  “And Harrison hit him?”

  The woman never flinched, even under the cringe-inducing force of O’Donoghue’s red-faced sneer and nearly palpable rage. “Yessir. I… Um… I think he speaks for us all, sir.”

  What? Lucky whipped his head around, taking in the folks around him, including some he barely knew.

  “Is that so?” O’Donoghue’s face turned a scary shade of red.

  The witness flinched but stood her ground. “Yessir.”

  If O’Donoghue didn’t stop scowling, hi
s face might freeze like that and match a certain sulky teenager. “I’ll take care of Harrison later.”

  Lucky bristled.

  “Now, while I have you all together”—O’Donoghue clapped his hands— “I’d like to say that I’m not at liberty to discuss details, but many of you know that Walter Smith is indisposed. While I’m filling in for him, there’s going to be a few changes around here.”

  What the fuck? Low murmurs agreed with Lucky.

  “Although I’m from a different organization, the SNB brass felt I’m most qualified to assume Mr. Smith’s responsibilities at this time.” He turned in a circle, raking a calculating gaze over the assembled. “If anyone has any kind of problem”—he skewered Keith with a dagger-sharp gaze that he then turned on Lucky— “you bring that problem to me. Understood?”

  A chorus of half-hearted “Yes”, “yessir,” and “yeah” filled the open space around the reception desk.

  “Now, get back to work.” He crooked his finger at Lucky. “Harrison, come with me.”

  Bo dropped a hand on Lucky’s shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll wait for you in our cube.”

  Lisa darted forward, wrapping her arms around Lucky. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to get you in trouble.”

  “You didn’t. That punch was a long time in coming.” Years of sneering, of making fun of Lucky’s past, of making Lisa do his work. Yeah, he’d paid Keith what was owed.

  Bo put an arm around Lisa and nodded at Lucky, his own personal language for “I got your back.”

  Lucky returned the nod and followed O’Donoghue down the hall. No one offered to help Keith off the floor.

  On the sidelines, Landry stood, customary sneer firmly in place. “You are so done here,” he mouthed.

  Motherfucker stalked off before Lucky managed a comeback.

  “I’m waiting!” O’Donoghue hollered.

  O’Donoghue? Or Landry? The lesser of two bastards. Lucky chose O’Donoghue.

  For now.

  The consultant on loan from the DEA didn’t belong in Walter’s office. The place looked like a borrowed space, with no pictures or other personal effects. Cold. Clinical. Like O’Donoghue himself.

  What happened to Walter’s things? Why move them at all when Walter would be back?