by Eden Winters
“There’s no markings on the bus. Maid For a Day advertises the hell out of their services, drive around in panel vans with their logo on the side. Even running the bus’s plates led to a dead end. No matter how I try, I can’t track down the owners, or find out anything about the company. I keep ending up with shell corporations.”
Wow. She’d done her homework. Were she officially still a rookie, he’d have to give her a gold star or some shit. Her findings didn’t rate a warrant, but if she felt strongly enough about what she’d seen to perform her own investigation, he’d check things out. Besides, though she wasn’t a rookie anymore, seeing all her evidence might convince him to give her more responsibility. “Have you told anyone else about this?”
“Does my gran count?”
“Maybe.” Lucky couldn’t picture the elder Mrs. Johnson gossiping though. More than likely she’d grab a pistol and act as Johnson’s backup on a raid.
In his experience, retired teachers might make some damned fine agents. They paid attention to details and didn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit.
Because Rett asked for help, he’d do what he could. Besides, he’d love to shirk the newbies for a few hours and, given her descriptions, he’d be suspicious too. Of course, someone merely crossing the street raised his suspicions most days.
Paranoid worked well for him. Why change? “Any idea what time they go to work?”
Her expression brightened. Likely she’d take the words as a yes to Lucky helping. “Late. The bus gets there between nine and nine-thirty most nights. Comes back around five a.m. The train doesn’t run all night, and neither do the public busses. I’ve waited at the MARTA stops, but they never go there in the morning.”
“Our guarded bus is picking them up from wherever they go.”
“Yep.”
“And you’re sure they don’t operate in daylight hours? Ever?”
“Nope. Nights only.”
Nights, the realms of vampires, evil-assed palmetto bugs, and folks up to no good. And night shift workers, the poor bastards.
Best case scenario? They’d hang out a few hours and go home empty-handed. Worst case? Lucky fought off a shiver. Weekends might mess up the suspects’ schedules, and Lucky needed time to plan. Better to handle initial surveillance on a weeknight. “Meet me in the parking garage at eight Monday night.”
“Really?” The tension eased from Johnson’s face and a smile broke through. “You’ll go with me?”
“Yeah. Who knows what we’ll find?” He’d never in a million years tell her all she had to do was say, “Lucky, come with me.”
The instincts both he and the boss counted on for years told him he’d find something.
Something bad.
Chapter Six
Sex on demand was still sex, but the niggling at the back of Lucky’s brain gnawed away some of the pleasure.
One glance at Bo’s smooth skin and taut muscles stretched out on the bed and Lucky’s libido told his brain to shut the fuck up.
White sheets, smooth skin, holding on to last summer’s tan way up into the spring of a new year. Bo’s slightly damp, dark hair fanned out over the pillowcase, and he studied Lucky’s every move with heavy-lidded eyes.
Lucky stripped in record time and crawled onto the bed. Bo’s skin smelled as warm as it felt, hints of cologne, soap, and the underlying musk of pure Bo.
Lucky rested his weight on his arms, hovering over Bo, teasing with barely-there swipes of lips against lips, and pulling away when Bo tried to deepen the kiss.
A grin spread across his face. For years now they’d danced this tango, and the steps never got old. Every gasp, every wriggle of Bo’s hips ignited fires deep inside Lucky’s body.
Time hadn’t lessened his desire for this man one iota. Rather, mutual respect brought a whole new layer to their loving.
Bo ended the teasing by gripping the back of Lucky’s head and rising up, sealing their mouths together.
Forceful Bo was Lucky’s favorite Bo.
He opened his mouth, granting his lover entrance, swirling their tongues together in a well-practiced two-step that nonetheless caused a lightning strike straight to his groin. God, he loved this man, would never tire of him.
Wanted to grow old with him…
“Lucky?” Bo mumbled without completely breaking the kiss.
“Yeah.” Lucky drew back and attacked Bo’s neck, earning himself a moan.
“Never mind.”
Yup, Lucky still had the ability to derail Bo’s thoughts. He licked and sucked a path down Bo’s lightly furred chest, to the flat planes of his belly, down, down, where he wanted to be.
Bo’s cock stood proud and tall, a pearly bead clinging to the end. Lucky swiped the moisture away with his tongue.
Bo groaned, arching up toward Lucky’s mouth.
Lucky gripped the base of Bo’s straining erection. “You want some of this?” He licked from the base to the tip, in one long swath of this tongue, and grinned. His own flesh wanted attention, but he’d wait. He had a mission to complete.
With Bo’s fingers on the back of his head, urging him on, Lucky parted his lips and took Bo’s cock into his mouth.
“Oh, God!” came out on Bo’s breathy exhale. “That is so damned good it ought to be illegal.”
Lucky added suction, using Bo’s moans, whines, and snarled, “Stop teasing!” as his cues. Down to the base, up to the tip, holding back Bo’s foreskin, pressing his fingers behind Bo’s balls, a never-fail move to get him off quickly.
Not that Lucky necessarily wanted things to end soon, but…
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!” The volume rose with each “Oh, God!”
Bo shook in the throes of a lightning strike. “Now, Lucky, now!”
Lucky reached beside Bo and grabbed the cup.
***
Lucky trotted down the front steps, accelerating into a run when he reached the end of the driveway. He understood why the routine was part of their lives, but on an emotional level, he really didn’t want to think about what happened after Bo delivered the cup to Charlotte.
Earbuds in place, he matched his footfalls and breathing to the beat of something he’d downloaded at Ty’s urging with his birthday iTunes credits. Trance music and running went together well. A burn started in muscles not used nearly enough these days.
Thirty-nine. In his younger days, he’d thought thirty-nine ancient. Almost forty. He’d think himself over the hill now if not for the new beginning he found with Bo.
Suddenly, he’d learned how to live after years of fumbling in the dark. Wanted to live, needed to live.
One, two, three, four, he breathed out, rounding the corner and starting down the street toward the community clubhouse. Neatly kept lawns lined either side of the road, some with early spring flowers beginning to bud.
Other than the few empty houses in the neighborhood, most were impeccably kept. Not a paint peel in sight, except on Lucky’s own house, a fixer upper recovering from too many years of neglect and abuse.
Slow work. They’d get the house in order someday.
The scent of freshly mown grass floated on the light breeze, with a faint whiff of chicken manure from the fields two miles away, farmers readying the soil for hay season. He’d avoid the section of the neighborhood closest to the fields.
The sun shone down, knocking the chill from the air, and Lucky wiped sweat from his forehead with a swipe of his hand.
He’d have to bypass Oak Street and the Stevenson’s mean as hell Rottweiler.
The pat, pat, pat, of footfalls sounded behind him, even over his music. He moved to the side to let a faster runner past.
“Uncle Lucky, wait up!”
He turned, catching sight of red cheeks under a gray beanie. Ty? Running with him?
Ty caught up and fell into step beside Lucky, not saying a thing, simply matching steps. Could he actually want to spend time together outside a boxing ring or the occasional movie?
In matters of fa
mily, Lucky learned to take any time he could get.
Down one street, over another and back. When he headed toward the house, Ty kept pace.
Neither spoke, Lucky simply enjoying the day, the run, and Ty’s company.
Loretta Johnson’s Jeep sat in the driveway when he got home. She climbed out carrying a thermos.
“Bring your own coffee, Rett?” The short run left Lucky more out of breath than it would have a few years ago. He needed to hit the gym more. Wanting to be a dad and wanting a dad bod were two different things.
“Nope. I brought Charlotte something.” She grinned and led the way to the front door.
Oh fuck. Lucky knew all about the concoctions Rett brought over in thermoses. When he’d returned from the case in Mexico, one of her potions helped clear chloral hydrate out of Lucky’s system.
“Nice run, Uncle Lucky.” Ty held up a fist. Lucky bumped. “Next time, let me know you’re going. Coach says I could use stamina training.”
So much for simply wanting to spend time together. Then again, in a reversed situation, Lucky wouldn’t admit to a desire to hang out with a man he’d hated a few months ago. “How’s those grades?” Ty had never been a straight-A student, according to Charlotte, but managed to keep his grades high enough to hold on to his hard-won place on the soccer team.
“I’m doing better. Speaking of, I gotta study. Got a test on Monday.” Ty shot through the front door and into his bedroom.
Ty? Voluntarily studying? Someone mark the calendar.
Lucky followed Rett into the house, creeping in to avoid any female-type conversations he wanted no part of. Neither Charlotte nor Rett held back on speaking their minds. What popped into their brains immediately popped out of their mouths, in most cases, without even slowing down.
Unless their kids were around. Then all of a sudden they developed a brain-to-mouth filter. What would it take for Lucky to earn the same privilege? He found the women in the kitchen.
“Are you sure about this?” Charlotte held up the thermos, giving the shiny metal her best squint-eye.
Rett smiled and patted her arm. “Look, my family swears by this stuff. I’ve got six nephews and eight nieces, all thanks to my great-grandmother’s secret recipe.”
Oh shit. Lucky stood frozen in the kitchen door. Should he stay or go?
Charlotte took a glass out of the cabinet, poured two fingers of green liquid from the thermos, and made a face. “This smells like what Grandma used to give us for colds.”
“It’s pot liquor. Folks down in my neck of the woods been using this for ages. Cures what ails you.” Rett glanced back over her shoulder and gave Lucky a wink.
Charlotte only took vitamins and the occasional ibuprofen, and shouldn’t need a system cleanse, like Lucky had when Rett first dosed him with one of her potions.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Scrunching her face, Charlotte took a sip, screwing her expression up even more. “Oh, that’s vile!” She gave Rett wide eyes. “Oh, sorry. I mean… I didn’t mean…”
Rett brushed off Charlotte’s embarrassment with a wave of her hand. “I agree. It tastes disgusting, but it’ll do the trick. Honest.”
“I don’t see how it can help.” Charlotte stared into the glass. “If you say it’ll work, I’ll trust you.” She turned up the glass and chugged the green goo like a beer. Charlotte gagged, but held her own.
“I’m going to the mall. Wanna come with me?” Loretta eyed Charlotte intently.
“Rain check? I didn’t sleep very well last night. It’s definitely nap time.”
Rett nodded. “Sure. I’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks, Rett.” Charlotte ambled toward her room.
“What all’s in there?” Lucky nodded toward the thermos.
Rett ticked off points on her fingers. “Juice from beets, carrots, and collard greens, along with a few spices.”
“Isn’t that the same stuff you gave me?” Big difference between clearing drugs out of someone’s system and aiding pregnancy.
“Similar, but no cayenne.”
“How’s it supposed to help?”
Rett rested her elbow on Lucky’s shoulder. “Sometimes, when a woman is trying to get pregnant, she’s nervous and upset. I’m not sure how it works, but once she stops worrying, bang! What I gave her is full of vitamins and can only help, not hurt, but if she believes it’ll work, she might relax enough to let nature do its thing.”
Lucky narrowed his eyes. Sounded like some kind of old wives’ tale. “You said you owed your nephew and nieces to what’s in that jug.”
“And I do. Mom made it for my sisters and sisters-in-law. My sister went a whole two years before she finally caved and let Mama make her a batch. The next month? Little Junior on the way!”
“You?”
Her smile fell. “Don’t you ever tell Rone this, but he was unplanned. I wouldn’t take nothing for him, mind you, but at the time I wondered what kind of mother I’d make, given my job and all. And his daddy being, well, his daddy.”
A good cop gone wrong.
“But you’ll see. Keep the pressure off Charlotte, and things’ll be right as rain.” Rett patted Lucky’s cheek. “Now, I gotta get going. Grandma’s keeping Rone so I can do some shopping. See you bright and early Monday.”
Her tennis shoes patted against the floor on her way to the door.
Lucky didn’t want to get his hopes up, but…
Chapter Seven
Lucky eased out from under the covers early on Monday morning. Something he’d never willingly do without good cause. Ah, but the comfort of warm blankets and a warmer Bo lured him back to sleep. The image of Johnson whooping his ass for sluffing off got him off his ass and on his feet.
No need waking Bo yet. He’d not asked whether or not Lucky spoke with Johnson. Going in early to do a little research before everyone else arrived might call for explanations, since early mornings sucked stump water.
Bo let out a “Mmmph”, rolled over, and resumed snoring.
Ah, the love of my life. Lucky kept his snicker to himself. Somehow the snoring, sleeping with his mouth open, or any of the other things Lucky might have wanted to kick a guy out of bed for in the past were cute on Bo.
Cute. Yeah, best to keep that opinion to himself too. Bo might not like association with a word most folks used to describe a baby or a puppy.
Lucky tiptoed out of the room in his boxers, peering out the door before crossing the den to the kitchen and laundry room, where he’d stashed his clothes for the day. Cat Lucky lay sleeping on the back of the couch. Traitor Moose, who now had his pick of humans to sleep with, probably chose Charlotte last night. One body. Queen sized bed they’d brought from Washington. Plenty of room for a monster-sized dog to stretch out.
Lucky slid his clothes into the dryer and turned the setting to five minutes. Nothing like slipping into warm clothes first thing in the morning. If forced to get up early, he’d make the most of the inconvenience. He leaned against the dryer to wait.
How would the baby and the pets get along? Lucky gave himself a mental smack. There was no baby yet, and he knew better than to get his hopes up for nothing. There were no guarantees. But still, maybe his future son or daughter would come into the world with their own built-in guard dog.
Not that a guard dog would be necessary. If someone hurt his kid…
No, not his kid. Yet. Bo barely spoke about kids, except when doing his duty into a plastic cup. Had he changed his mind about wanting a family with Lucky? Maybe Lucky should pick up some sperm-collection condoms, make the technical process more enjoyable, and less weird.
Nope, he’d promised once the gloves came off, they’d never go back on.
He pulled the warm clothes out of the dryer, slipped them on, and eased toward the front door, boots in hand. Too fucking early, but maybe he’d set Rett’s mind at ease today.
Or maybe he’d find himself ass deep in alligators.
Not the first time, and probably not the last. He shoved hi
s feet into his boots on the front porch. His jacket kept the chill at bay as he ran out the door to his car. March mornings shouldn’t be this fucking cool! Brrr… Too bad his vehicle didn’t have heated seats and steering wheel like Bo’s shiny new one. Or a handy device to start the car from inside the house and climb in all warm and toasty.
Heater envy. Go figure.
The heater in Lucky’s Camaro finally started earning its keep about five miles from the house, and hadn’t truly made the car comfortable until Lucky pulled under the SNB building to the parking garage underneath.
Lisa hadn’t yet arrived to work, so he managed to get past the reception desk without comment. Damn, the place creeped him out when empty.
He settled into his chair, fired up his laptop, and checked his emails. Or tried to. Reaching into his computer bag, he fished around for the reading glasses he’d bought one day while out on his own. Nobody here at this hour to see.
Lucky settled the cheap plastic frames on his nose. Better to read all the information Johnson had gathered so far.
Two women she’d been observing exited the vehicle at a stop on Marietta Boulevard. There was a mall nearby. He called up records of the cleaning service used. Smiling faces appeared onscreen. He sent the photos to Johnson. Maybe she’d recognize someone. They all seemed happy and well-dressed in crisp uniforms.
She hadn’t mentioned uniforms. A moment later she texted back. “They aren’t the ones.”
Of course not. That’d be too easy. He drew a map using her information. One thing for certain, he and Johnson would be all over damned town tonight.
To save time, he loaded up the SNB van and drove his trainees around some of the area he’d scope out later.
Fuck, plenty of tall buildings. Checking staff rosters for each and every employee in those buildings might take a lifetime. He’d hoped for only a few hours.
He and his trainees had practiced stealth techniques in an abandoned building for way too fucking long when, at long last, the shift ended.
And not one fucking word about Charlotte from Salters. Maybe the asshole finally came to his senses.
