Benediction: Diversion Book 9

by Eden Winters

  “I’m surprised the family wasn’t at the house,” Lucky ventured.

  “I asked them to leave us alone.” Bo took a deep breath. “You’ve had a rough day and needed to unwind. Besides, I wanted to talk to you today, and I’m not letting some stupid case ruin my plans.”

  Lucky’s heart fell to his stomach. After all this time, and two kids, had Bo finally come to his senses and decided Lucky wasn’t worth the effort after all? “That’s not scary in the least.”

  “Not meant to be scary.” Bo let out a long exhale, his fingers flexing on Lucky’s. “Look, in the past we’ve talked about getting married, but always for some reason that wouldn’t last. I worried, if we got married based on a temporary situation, once things got better, we might have regrets.”

  Oh, this. Bo made perfectly clear on many occasions exactly where he stood on marriage. “Bo, I…”

  “Shhh. Hear me out, please.”

  Lucky nodded. Why Bo felt the need to once again drive the point home about Lucky not being marriage material, or how they didn’t need public vows, he might never know.

  But he’d listen to the arguments one more time.

  “Now, we’re not in some hole in the ground in Mexico, we’re not in danger of dying at the moment, that we know of at least, and there’s no other excuse for getting married that some people use and later resent.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Did Lucky really want to know?

  “I’m trying to say that we have good jobs, a nice house, family and friends who love us. Two great kids. We’re not rich but we’re financially secure. We’re with each other, not because we feel we have to be, but because we want to be.”

  “Yes.” So were Bo’s aunt and uncle, and they’d never legally married.

  Bo rolled to his side and cupped Lucky’s cheek. “What I’m saying is this: Now that there’s no other reason to marry except that we want to spend the rest of our lives together, will you marry me?”

  What. The. Absolute. Fuck.

  Lucky slapped his half-hand over Bo’s. “Wait. You say you want to get married?” After all this time of saying no?

  “No.”

  Lucky’s heart fell. “I thought—”

  “I want to marry you. If you’ll have me.”

  If he’d have Bo? Was Bo kidding? “Of course, I’ll have you.” Lucky refrained from adding, “And I intend to. Later tonight.”

  Lucky heard the smile and relief in Bo’s voice. “Thank you. I love you.”

  Lucky lifted his chin and blinked hard a few times. Heat burned the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around Bo, gritted his teeth against his various pains, and hugged tighter. Married. They were getting married, fulfilling his deepest wish.

  “Happy Birthday, Lucky. I wanted to ask in the restaurant, pull out all the stops. Be romantic. Then it hit me. That’s not you. It’s not me either.” He kissed Lucky again, hard and deep.

  He stood and held out his hand. Lucky rose with him, but when he strode toward the bike, Bo pulled him back. “May I have this dance?” He touched a button on his phone.

  Achy Breaky Heart played from the speaker.

  They returned home to every light blazing from the windows, and at least ten cars in the yard.

  Oh, well, the quiet couldn’t last.

  “Happy Birthday!”

  At least they didn’t try to surprise Lucky this time.

  Walter sat in a place of honor on the couch, the room full of people. Keith, his wife, and daughter stood off to one side, while Lisa bounded after her toddler, who seemed hellbent and determined to catch Andro as he crawled across the floor. Lisa’s husband gave Keith a whole lot of stink eye. Oh, yeah. Break into someone’s house and they held it against you forever.

  Couldn’t happen to a better asshole.

  Tiny Mrs. Smith sat next to Walter, and Rett sat in the reclining chair, holding a sleeping Jenny while her son stroked Jenny’s hair, a look of wonder on his face.

  Charlotte grabbed Lucky’s hand and led him to the free end of the couch, pushing him down once they got there. Dang, but the woman was strong.

  “I am so happy to be out of maternity jeans,” she told him.

  He glared at Rett until she surrendered Jenny. Jenny yawned and settled into the crook of Lucky’s arm. Rone crept over to Lucky to continue petting the baby like a puppy. At least he wasn’t hiding behind Rett all the time anymore.

  Bo made a circuit of the room, shaking hands and giving out hugs. If Lucky had his way, he’d be inching into the kitchen. Parties meant cake.

  He’d even pretend not to notice Jimmy holding Charlotte’s hand if it meant he’d get empty calories of the chocolate kind.

  “It’s my birthday. Why don’t I have cake?”

  “Yes, sir!” Ty saluted and disappeared into the kitchen, Chelsea on his heels. Keith’s laser vision might melt the kitchen door.

  After enough time to find a plate in another state and cut the cake with a feather, Ty returned with what could only be described as a slab of heaven disguised as chocolate. “Cake first,” Lucky said, placing the plate on one thigh to eat one-handed while holding Jenny in his other arm. A mass stampede headed for the kitchen.

  Bo took advantage of a suddenly empty couch and sat down next to Lucky. His eyes gleamed. “Can I tell them?”

  Lucky stopped with a bite of cake halfway to his mouth. “You mean they don’t already know?” Hard to keep a secret around Lucky’s nosy family. A few of the people in the room could have had their intimate dinner bugged, and Walter, well, Walter Smith knew everything.

  Bo shook his head, a smile playing over his lips. He scooped up a passing Andro and told Ty, “I got him. Go get cake.”

  The crowd returned and Ty handed out gifts. Ty and Todd went in together with their Mom to replace the handgun Lucky lost in the car fire. Thank goodness it hadn’t been the .38 Walter gave him. He might have to go drag O’Donoghue back from Hell and kill him again for that.

  Walter and his wife gave him gift certificates to local restaurants—ones far ritzier than Lucky’s normal hangouts—and movie theatres. “Lucille and I will keep the kids while you have a date night.”

  Hell, Lucky’d just gotten the little tykes. Why did everyone think he’d want to pawn them off on someone else? He smiled and nodded. “Thanks.” See? He could be taught.

  He ripped open the next package. Somehow Andro wound up with the bow stuck on top of his head. Rett and her son gave Lucky a new gym bag. She’d heard him bitch enough about someone taking his old one the night his car blew up.

  The last shred of wrapping paper fluttered to the floor, to be pounced on by Andro and Lisa’s son.

  Bo cleared his throat. “Can I have everyone’s attention please. I have an announcement to make.” He brought Lucky’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “Earlier this evening, Lucky agreed to become my husband.”

  Lucky had no idea what anyone’s reactions were, for he suddenly found Bo tongue-deep in his mouth. They broke apart to applause.

  EPILOGUE

  No trial. No public listing of all O’Donoghue’s sins. He got off too easy. Even a week later the injustice stuck in Lucky’s craw. Yeah, maybe he was a cocky bantam rooster after all.

  Too bad the asshole had to go and complicate a lot of lives in his passing. Now, a new case opened to find his killer.

  Lucky slipped out of Walter’s office for maybe the last time. From now on, the place Lucky went to get advice from his mentor would be Bo’s office.

  Lucky would mentor others in the future. The circle of life or some such. Blinking hard didn’t clear his vision. Cake, kind words, coworkers telling favorite boss stories. All too much for him. Too public. Too pretentious. He’d say his goodbyes to his former boss privately.

  While keeping Walter as family.

  Bo slid into Lucky’s cube. “I just got word. Southwestern is in an uproar. Diaz got out on bond and was hit by a car this morning. He’s in critical condition and isn’t expected
to live. Garrison hasn’t been seen or heard from in two days.”

  He would likely never be seen again.

  They’d played with the big boys and lost.

  A lot of people lost. Landry. Eustace. Rogers. Chastain. All for greed. Hunger for power.

  “But it’s not our case.” Lucky didn’t mind turning this nightmare over to someone else.

  “No, it’s not ours. But that’s not all I came to tell you.” Bo slid into the chair he’d once occupied across from Lucky in the cube. “We’re moving you out of here into an office.”

  “An office?” With a door to shut everyone out?

  “Yes. Starting next week, you’ll be reporting to the new Director of Undercover Operations on the seventh floor. She loves the idea about hiring a cosmetologist. We’ve arranged for Vivienne to work with you to get the program off the ground. Congratulations. It’s a promotion.”

  “Seventh floor? Wow! Who said I’d never come up in the world? But what about training?” Not that Lucky would pass up a promotion to train a bunch of rookies. Victor loaning them Vivienne was likely one more way of trying to lure Lucky away from the SNB, showing him the resources he’d have at his disposal with an international organization.

  Not happening.

  “Loretta and Jimmy.” He nodded, indicating the cube. “This will be their new home. Congratulations. Now, no one can say anything about fraternization.” Bo let out a sigh, running his fingers down the shoots of the Christmas cactus sitting on the file cabinet. “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you? From the grumpy sonofabitch with a chip on his shoulder to a man with an office.”

  “And you went from the edumacated college boy with buffed nails and highlighted hair, to the chief cook and bottle washer.”

  Bo let out a laugh. “Aren’t we a pair?”

  “That we are.”

  Bo leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him and rubbing his foot against Lucky’s. “Back then, did you ever think you’d still be with the SNB when you hit forty?”

  “Hell, I tried to leave back then.” Actually, Lucky wouldn’t have bet on still breathing at forty.

  Bo reached across the way and took Lucky’s hand. “I am so glad for the grumpy sonofabitch. You know that?”

  Lucky said words he’d never have dreamed of back when they’d met. “And I appreciate the hell outta that edumacated college boy.”

  Footsteps in the hall broke them apart. The steady tap, tap, tap stopped before it reached the cube.

  Bo relaxed. “It’s been one hell of a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” The end of a threat hanging over Lucky’s—and his family’s—heads. “They still doing the thing this afternoon?”

  “Yeah. Charlotte and Rett went to Costco this morning and bought supplies. They’ve been decorating ever since they got back. Come on and take a walk with me.”

  They rode the elevator up to the seventh floor and strode down a hallway. Cubes lined the right side of the hall, across from a series of offices.

  Bo stopped and opened a door with no nameplate. “Here you go.”

  The office wasn’t as large as Wal… Bo’s, a reasonable price to pay to avoid having a bunch of assholes answering to him. Lucky peered out the window. Not much of a view, but at least he had a window, letting in sunlight. Might be pretty during a rainstorm.

  Simple. Office-issue desk, like so many others at the SNB. Two chairs facing the desk. A bookcase and a file cabinet. Lucky sat down in the padded chair and leaned back. Hey! He could lean back without ending up on the floor.

  Time for someone else to deal with the Hell Bitch.

  Bo propped against the desk. “What do you think?”

  Lucky studied the blank walls. “I’ve been in a cube the whole time I’ve been here. Having a door I can close to keep the assholes out is definitely a perk.”

  Bo shut the door and stalked across the floor, a mischievous smile on his face. “A door means I can do this.” He pressed his lips to Lucky’s, wrapping him in a firm embrace. Oh, hell, yeah! Lucky loved the door.

  A few minutes later they broke apart. “What kind of asshole will I be working for?” The wrong boss might make life a living hell.

  Bo put his arm around Lucky’s shoulder and ran his hand through the air, like painting a scene. “Imagine, if you will, the love child of Loretta Johnson and Walter Smith. Only… smaller. She looks like a sweet grandma type, but can kick ass and take names. Twenty years with SNB, and before then, undercover with Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.”

  “When do I meet her?”

  “Monday.”

  Gave Lucky plenty of time to do background checks.

  “Trust me. You’ll like her. Reminds me of an older version of Charlotte.”

  “Lord help us all.”

  Bo laughed. “Yeah. I agree. Between the two of you, you’ll have drug dealers fleeing Atlanta in droves.”

  If only it was that easy.

  Lucky stared out his office window at a sunny day. Down the street and as far as he could see, trees sported green leaves. Cars leaving the business district, heading for home, formed endless lines of start and stop traffic.

  Finally.

  Quiet. Peace.

  Boxes holding his belongings sat around the desk and in the two guest chairs. Time enough to unpack later.

  A FedEx package had arrived two days after O’Donoghue’s death, and now lay on Lucky’s desk. Photos, dates, times, names, copies of documents. All sent to him by Landry before their final meeting. They didn’t need the extra evidence against O’Donoghue after all. The nightmare finally ended. It was over.

  Or would it ever be? Always some new asshole thinking they were above the law came along to ruin Lucky’s day. Ruining theirs instead made the job worthwhile.

  That and making Bo and Walter proud.

  He rifled through the evidence again. After all his screwups, in the end, Landry tried to do right. And he’d paid with his life. Lucky shoved everything into the envelope and stashed it in his desk drawer.

  Enough thinking about the past. Time to move on.

  He sat in his desk chair and called up the PowerPoint presentation Lisa sent him on his laptop. Photos of Walter through his years with the SNB. Even the one of him and Victor Mangiardi having lunch together, the photo used to make Lucky doubt his mentor once upon a time. The years progressed until Lucky appeared in the pictures, all cocky hostility.

  Like Walter, though, Lucky’d changed over time. Softened. Learned to love and trust the man in the pictures with him, until the last one of them together showed both smiling, Walter’s arm thrown over Lucky’s shoulders.

  Walter Smith, who’d saved Lucky from prison, gave him purpose, helped him move forward and get a life.

  Introduced him to Bo. Now, Walter held the proud title of honorary grandpa to his and Bo’s kids. Lucky emailed the presentation to Charlotte’s computer, to allow her time to set up for the evening.

  Bo tapped on the doorframe. “You ready?”

  The new Director of the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau’s Department of Diversion Prevention and Control made Lucky’s insides trip over themselves with one glance. Blue suit, silk tie, every hair in place—his clothes one shade lighter than Lucky’s navy-blue official SNB polo shirt. Anyone walking into Lucky’s office would think him professional, clad in the SNB’s official uniform.

  They wouldn’t see the blue jeans and boots hidden beneath the desk. He could only conform so far.

  He’d once considered Bo an annoying rookie. Oh, how wrong he’d been.

  “Lucky?” Bo waved a hand in front of his face.

  When had Bo crossed the floor? “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Lucky stood, stretched, and kissed his man.

  They made their way down deserted corridors. At least Bo doing paperwork late meant the roads wouldn’t be so crowded.

  They rode the elevator to the parking garage, the tap, tap, tap of Bo’s dress shoes echoing in the nearly empty space. They crawled i
nto Bo’s SUV and buckled in.

  Sooner or later they’d have to buy Ty a car of his own to drive to school, but Lucky didn’t mind carpooling nearly as much as he let on, loaning Ty his Rav-4.

  He collapsed against the seat. “It’s gonna be weird, ain’t it?”

  Bo nodded, glancing over and patting Lucky’s leg. “Yeah. I still want to knock every time I go to my office.” He shook his head. “Gonna be strange not having Walter there, but he’ll be around, doing consulting for a while.”

  “He’s been with the SNB ever since there was an SNB.” Yet Walter lived to retire, and didn’t wind up on the SNB memorial page. “Ya think he suspects anything?”

  “As many times as he’s been to the house in the past few months?” Bo started the vehicle and drove out of the parking garage. “As far as he knows, he’s coming to a cookout and to see the kids. He takes that whole Grandpa thing seriously.”

  Yes, he did. As Mrs. Smith did being Grandma.

  “He’s gotta know we wouldn’t let him ride off into the sunset without some kind of sendoff.” Lucky’s stomach rumbled. Had he forgotten lunch today? “And cake. Don’t forget cake.”

  Bo chuckled. “Yes. I’m told his wife will allow him a reasonably-sized piece.”

  “He’ll like that.” Walter gave up so much to be healthier. He should live it up occasionally.

  They remained quiet for a few miles. Finally, Bo spoke up. “Charlotte asked me again this morning when we plan to set a date.”

  Lucky barked a laugh. “She asked me last night.”

  “Have you seen the latest wedding brochures she left on the coffee table?”

  The new coffee table they’d had to buy, thanks to Fuckwad O’Donoghue. Lucky reached across the console and laced his fingers with Bo’s. Now that so many important matters were finally settled, yeah, they needed to follow through on their promises to each other.

  “I’ve seen ‘em. Everything from a Las Vegas package to wedding on the beach.” Better than Charlotte’s original plan of a huge wedding.

  So not Lucky’s thing, but if Bo wanted… “What do you want?”