Diversion 1 - Diversion (20 page)

A dimple appeared on one chubby cheek that didnt have nearly the same effect as Bos. “Is it safe to say youre new to vegetarianism?”

Lucky coughed into his fist to hide a snicker. “Real safe; as in „never gonna happen.”
Confusion wiped the smugness right off the maître ds face. “If you dont mind my asking, why are you…?”
“Why does any self-respecting meat eater come here?”
The mans eyebrows sought his hairline, but given that his few strands of dyed-black hair sat back a good four inches from where they probably used to be, the eyebrows would never make it. “A woman, perhaps?”
Lucky bent down to whisper into a diamond-studded ear, using the menu to shield them from prying eyes. “Im trying to impress someone and hopefully get a gratitude fuck out of the deal, and let me tell you,
he
doesnt impress easily. Now, whats the best you got?”
Five minutes of guffaws werent absolutely necessary, in Luckys opinion. Hysteria reduced to girlish giggles, the man reached behind a glasses lens to swipe at his eye with a fingertip. “Oh, sir. Thats the best laugh Ive had in a long time.”
Rolling his eyes ceiling-ward, Lucky waited, hoping sooner or later the man would say something he actually wanted to hear.
“May I suggest the eggplant parmigiana? It is our most popular item.”
With practice, Lucky might be able to pronounce it. Inspired by a glance at a couple seated a few feet away, who alternately sipped from goblets filled with deep red wine while munching, he asked, “Got wine to match?”
The man clapped his hands together. “My recommendation would be a lovely Sangiovese or perhaps a pinot noir.”
The first one Luckyd never heard of, but the second one he had. “Okay, Ill take the eggplant stuff, and write down the names of those wines, why dont you?”
“I can assure you, sir, our wines…”
“Yeah, yeah. Youll charge me forty-two bucks a bottle or more. I can get it at Publix for fifteen or less. And can you get a move on it? He gets off work soon. Oh, and if I get my brains screwed out—thanks.”

Lucky didnt find Sangio -whatever at the grocery store, but they did have some reasonably priced pinot stuff. His own tastes ran to beer, but Bo seemed to prefer wine, and tonight was all about Bo.

Approaching the checkout line, Lucky passed a shopping cart loaded with discounted items. Staring at an odd assortment of candles, he firmly declared to himself,
I am not going to get mushy,
but when other shoppers approached he snatched up two white jarred candles and shoved them into his cart before he changed his mind.
Only to keep someone else from getting them,
he told himself.

Dashing home and flying into the house before the car engine stopped pinging, he laid the chaps out on the bed. He drew in a deep breath, and violated a sanctuary normally reserved for the member of his team more suitable to kitchen tasks. He checked his phone to ensure Bo hadnt left a message about working late, while slamming the wine in the freezer to get cold in thirty minutes.
You are supposed to chill the stuff, right?

Next, he turned the oven on to warm and painstakingly eased the eggplant dish out of the restaurant container and into a pan from under the stove, discarding the tinfoil evidence of take out. For food lacking in meat, the mixture of eggplant, tomato sauce, and cheese certainly smelled good, fragrant with spices he didnt know the names of. His mouth watered and he ventured a tiny taste, coming back for a second nibble to confirm the heavily spiced concoction didnt suck for not being laden with good ole USDA beef. Spotting a bowl in the dish drain, he filled it with a generous helping, trying to smooth out the rest so it wouldnt appear like hed taken any. He washed down a niggling of guilt with a few gulps of milk, straight from the jug.

Digging into the drawer under the stove, he located a smaller pan, and filched a little more eggplant. He slid the pan into the oven, munching his stolen portion while chopping veggies for a salad. For good measure, he smeared some sauce on the stove and counter to add to the illusion of him having slaved over a hot stove, cackling gleefully while adding tomatoy blotches to Bos ugly green apron.

He glanced out the window at the lessening rain, praying it would darken soon in keeping with his plans. When Bos car rounded the curb, he raced to the back porch, flinging open the breaker box and flipping switches at random until the kitchen lights went out. Heavy footsteps clomped slowly across the front porch.

“Oh, something sure smells good!” Bos tousled hair and a weary smile twanged at what might have been heartstrings on anyone else. Lucky didnt do twanging heartstrings.
Must be indigestion.

Lucky fumbled the pan out of the now cooling oven. He never in his life had trouble lying with a straight face, even in the most dire circumstances, but lying to Bo—a man whom he may have to trust with his life, seemed—wrong.

“You can cook? Wow! Youre full of surprises, arent you?” Clicks and clacks accompanied Bos effortless waltz around the kitchen, in an orchestrated dance from glass cupboard to plate rack, to silverware drawer. Between living at Victors with a household staff, prison, where no one gave a happy damn, and living out of suitcases as Walters beck-andcall boy, Luckyd never developed any domestic skills. Nor did he intend to, unless every fried chicken and burger joint in Atlanta simultaneously exploded. Or, wherever he chose to settle down once hed chewed his collar off. That didnt keep him from marveling at his partners apparent ease in the kitchen.

He set the pan on a hotplate on the table and retrieved the wine out of the freezer. When he turned back around, Bo seemed to be biting his lips to hide a laugh. Since no snarky comments followed, Lucky didnt ask “Whats so funny?”

Lucky had never felt so foolish in his life, even after having fallen easily into Victors trap. It wasnt something he wanted to repeat. “The lights went out. I found them in a cabinet.” His excuse sounded lame, even to his own ears. Why had wine and candles seem like a good idea an hour ago?

Thankfully, Bo let Lucky off the hook, rummaging through a drawer for a matchbook. Though not fully dark yet, he deftly lit both candles, positioning them between the two plates. He held out a hand, and it took Lucky a minute to realize he wanted the wine bottle.

Handing it over, Lucky returned to the refrigerator for the salad before sitting down, thinking his plans werent panning out quite as intended. He wasnt supposed to feel awkward and out of place. Where was the smooth, suave seducer hed envisioned? At least the wine had a cork and not a twist cap—hed managed to get that part right.

“Everything looks wonderful, Lucky.” Bo took his customary place on the opposite side of the table, reaching over to squeeze Luckys hand. “Thank you.” He filled both their bowls with salad, and hmmmmd while ladling out heaping servings of eggplant. “How did you know eggplant parmesan is my absolute favorite meal ever?”

“Lucky guess, I reckon.” Lucky picked at his food, having eaten a full bowlful earlier and now finding himself more engrossed in the lustful moans and groans coming from across the table. Mind roaming to the bedroom and the chaps waiting there, his cock stiffened. Shadows and light played over his partners face, a coating of five oclock shadow lending Bos angular features a slightly scruffy appeal. Lucky fought back impatience to see Bo in the chaps, complete with biker-dangerous vibe. His cock pressed painfully against the seam of his blue jeans.

Hed half finished his wine before realizing he sipped from a glass and not the bottle. Oh, well, too late now to salvage his backwoods hick reputation. “How was your day?” he asked, to distract himself and possibly get Bo to quit moaning before he came without even touching himself.

A flush colored Bos cheeks. “Other than my moment of weakness, okay.”
Neither spoke for a few minutes, Bo sipping wine and Lucky waiting for more details about the goings on at the clinic.
Bo set the glass down, idly skating a finger around the rim. “I cannot believe how many patients came in today. Ive worked at a pharmacy that dished out scripts for institutions—hospitals, nursing homes, et cetera—and we didnt crank out nearly the volume that Ryersons did today. Man, its grueling.” He scooped up a forkful of eggplant and grinned, flashing The Dimple.“How nice to find a home cooked meal on the table. I had no idea you could cook like this. Maybe we ought to rethink the whole „junior man gets cooking duties thing.”
Luckys gaze followed the morsel from Bos plate to his lips, shivering when a pink tongue tip swept out to gather a stray dollop of sauce.
Returning to details about his day, Bo huffed a frustrated, “I swear, it baffles the hell out of me why the clinic hasnt been closed down long ago. I mean, Im handing out narcs like theres no tomorrow, and not even reporting them. The new law took effect months ago, and doctors arent allowed to keep controls on hand. Bev…I mean, Ryerson, gets away with it because she has an in-house pharmacy—for now.”
Uhoh. A red flag slammed the brakes on Luckys fantasies of that talented tongue doing more than talking. “What did you say?”
“I cant understand how the Ryerson Clinic gets away with keeping…”
“No. You called Dr. Ryerson „Bev. Need I remind you how dangerous getting chummy can be? Or how dangerous
she
is. It was one thing when you only suspected. What I heard at the party shouldve removed any doubt.”
Bos face flamed, crimson creeping up both ears. “Im not an idiot. I realize what shes accused of. But everyone calls her Bev. Even the techs.”
Accused of.
Not
guilty of
. “You need to maintain your distance. You talking about her here like shes a friend aint a good thing.”
Bo grumbled something unintelligible, folding his arms across his chest. “I havent forgotten why Im there, despite what you may think. Before your shift today, Elledge showed up. He and
Dr. Ryerson
disappeared into an exam room to have a rather loud conversation.”
“Any idea what they were talking about?”
“Seems shes getting a little nervous lately about some promise he isnt keeping and I distinctly heard her say „Savannah at least four times. She also accused him of being sloppy.”
Dinner and anticipated debauchery mostly forgotten, Lucky stroked his chin, pondering the latest development. “We already knew shed planned to move. Ryerson charges five bucks for one oxycodone tablet. Multiply that by the ninety-day supply she gave me. Last I heard, the street value is thirty bucks a pop. That one script coulda got me close to three thou on the streets of Atlanta.”
“She flew out of the room, redfaced. Whatever the guys planning, shes not happy with it. And if Im not mistaken, I heard a slap a time or two, but no one dared interfere, and who slapped who is still a mystery.”
The unease that suddenly took up lodging on Bos face brought back how good a man he was. A good man whod taken his share of slaps, or worse, to spare his brother. “You believe he hit her, and it damned near killed you not to charge to her rescue, didnt it?”
Dropping his gaze to the table, Bo fidgeted with the paper towel Lucky had given him for a napkin. “Yeah. And youre right, I am too close. All I see when I look at her is my mom, trying to explain to us kids that Daddy wasnt a bad man, and only got mean when he drank.” He sighed. “Mom went to work one day and didnt come home. Hit a patch of ice and drove off into a ravine.”
Normally, Bo reached across the great divide between them, this time Lucky took the initiative, curling Bos hand into his. “You were told going in what was what. Youre there to collect information, and you have. If Ryersons innocent, she doesnt have to worry.” Not that Lucky gave Ryersons innocence a snowballs chance in hell. “If shes guilty, shes made her choices, and it isnt up to you or me to play judge and jury.”
Bo laced his fingers with Luckys, latching on with a vise-like grip. “I know. In my head, I truly know. But in my heart… Jeez, man, shes got small kids at home.”
“Hey, look at me.”
Bo raised his sight barely enough to make eye contact.
“Thats better. Listen, some people deserve what they have coming, but even knowing theyre guilty as sin doesnt help much. Theres nothing you can do about how folks live their lives. People tend to pave their own roads. Do you think the bad guys dont have families? Dont buy groceries? Dont live fairly normal lives?”
Those warm brown eyes bored into Luckys clean down to his soul. “Is this how it was when you testified against Victor?”
Luckys heart skipped a beat. He had no desire to discuss his former lover with his current one.
Fuck buddy. Not lover.
“No. Because I clued into what and who Victor was from day one. Its not like I was a lawabiding citizen at the time either.”
Bo threw Luckys own oft-repeated words back at him. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nothing to say. Victor found out the heat was coming and planned to disappear, but the cops got us first. The DA convinced me that Victor intended to haul ass to Rio with his latest boy toy and throw me to the wolves. I got pissed and shot my mouth off.” “You beat him to the punch.” A statement, not a question.
“Yeah, and at the time I fully believed the bastard deserved it.” Lucky averted his eyes, afraid of what Bo might see there. “Maybe he did, maybe he didnt. After he died, I had a hard time looking at myself in the mirror.”
Especially after learning the rest of the story
remained unsaid.
The sun had fully set, the twin candles casting a flickering glow over Bos face, causing his eyes to glitter in the semi-darkness.
“You didnt actually cook dinner, did you?” Bo asked out of the blue.
“No.” No use lying. Bos tone said hed already guessed the truth.
“Yet, you went through a whole lot of trouble. Did you enjoy knocking yourself out for nothing, or was all this for a reason?” He wasnt accusing, but sounded genuinely curious.
No wayin hell would Lucky answer such a “damned if you do, damned if you dont” question. He chose to ignore it.
Lips sliding back over his teeth in a sultry smile, Bo said, “Lets clean up the kitchen and go to bed.”
Lucky didnt have to be told twice. He rose and gathered the dirty dishes, nearly dropping half on the floor in his haste while Bo sealed leftovers in plastic bowls, banishing them to the refrigerator.
He stood elbow deep in soapy water, grateful hed apparently missed turning off the breaker for the hot water heater. He jumped when a pair of warm lips skimmed his neck. Strong arms wrapped around him, and a moment later, Bo reached up and tweaked Luckys nipples while pressing a hard-on into the cleft of his ass. Lucky groaned and turned away from the sink. Teeth sank into his shoulder, preventing him from moving.
“Uh-uh,” Bo said, words garbled against Luckys T-shirt. “Dishes first.”
Luckyd never washed dishes faster in his life. With the last plate resting in the drainer, he spun, gazing up into a pair of gleaming eyes; eyes further darkened with lust and low lighting.
Bo grabbed the washrag from Luckys hand, flinging it into a corner with a noisy
splat
. Looked like he intended to make that a habit, though Luckyd be damned if hed complain; especially when Bo brought his fingers up to frame Luckys face, bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss.
Their hands grasped and clawed at each others shirts, Lucky popping a button or two off Bos button-down, the protest of a ripping seam attesting to their mutual impatience. Shirts fluttered to the floor to lie together on the linoleum. They attacked each others pants, toeing off their shoes with their mouths locked together.
Showing off superior strength, Bo lifted Lucky to the counter edge, taking Luckys cock into his mouth. Head thrown back to rap a
clunk
against the cabinet door, Lucky lost himself in damp heat, excited hums, and the thrill of a lovers hands kneading his ass.
Scrabbling for purchase on the slick countertop, he met Bo thrust for thrust. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, a hot mouth and sinful tongue slipping up and down his flesh, keeping him circling the proverbial drain without giving enough to tip him over into oblivion. Bos hand cupped his balls, gently fondling in time with the enthusiastic tongue-lashing.
When Lucky couldnt stand it a moment longer, Bo pulled off, plucked him from the counter, and headed off down the hall, Lucky thrown over one wide shoulder. Bo clicked on the light switch but nothing happened. “Did you turn off all the breakers or just some?” he asked.
“Most, I think.”
“Ill be right back.” Bo tossed Lucky on the bed and dashed back down the hallway, returning a moment later with the two candles, which he placed on the nightstand. Hands on hips, he stared down with a wonder in his eyes Lucky had never seen turned his way before.
“Tonight, Im gonna ruin you for other men,” he promised, climbing onto the bed.
Lucky scooted back, allowing some room, and his foot hit the chaps hed left on the edge of the bed. What little brain activity he was capable of warned him that the lustfilled evening hed hoped for paled in comparison to what Bo planned. Rather than risk ruining the mood, he cast a good swift kick at the damning pile of leather, knocking the chaps to the floor. They hit with a loud
thunk.
Bo stiffened. “What was that?”
“Oh, nothing,” Lucky replied, grasping Bos neck in a firm grip to keep him from seeing the chaps. “I was folding clothes in here earlier. I reckon I forgot to put something away.”
Luckys improvised answer must have been good enough, for Bo didnt check, rummaging instead in the nightstand for their dwindling supplies. He sat back on his heels, a question in his eyes as he ripped open a foil square and held the latex sheath to his cock, waiting.
No one had topped Lucky in years, not since Victor. He didnt have anything against it,
per se
, he simply didnt let anyone top him, though in prison, many had tried, until learning Luckys lesson number one. A power trip, a disgruntled former one-nighter had called it, whod had the nerve to assume “small” equated to “bottom.” Whatever the case, Lucky allowed himself a full five seconds to consider his actions and what they meant before nodding and parting his legs.
Bo settled between, lips exploring Luckys chest, hands lightly tracing up goose-bumped skin, stopping shy of tickling. He inched upward, cock skating up Luckys thighs to slide their shafts together.
Lucky bucked up, bringing their flesh more firmly together. “Patience,” Bo whispered, his breath heating Luckys ear a moment before his mouth descended, nibbling a sensitive lobe and traveling down Luckys neck and throat. Slick fingers teased Luckys opening. He jerked away involuntarily.
“Shhh…easy now. Gonna take it easy. Damn but youre hot.”
My two-dollar pistol
Lucky heard Victor say. He scrunched his eyes closed, willing the ghost of his dead lover away, wanting to believe the tenderness in Bos words and hands, wanting to believe someone existed whod love him despite his flaws. Moisture leaked out from the corners of his eyes, dripping onto the pillowcase. Bo, busy running his tongue up the inside of Luckys thighs, hopefully didnt see.
The barest fingertip slipped inside Luckys hole, and he forced himself to relax, to welcome in the intruder. The finger advanced and retreated, advanced a little more, and retreated a little less, gaining more ground with each thrust. Bo stopped to add more slickness, eyes following the path of his finger. He smiled, The Dimple joining their liaison, fading in and out of sight with the wavering candlelight.
Another finger joined the first, massaging tight muscles into relaxation. Lucky closed his eyes, lost in sensation. When Bos mouth plundered his, Lucky temporarily lost track of the rest of his body, eyes flying open wide. The thickness of Bos cock head pressed against him. He bent his knees, giving better access, and hissed when breached, fighting his bodys reaction to clamp down and fight off the intrusion.
Bo stopped, weight braced on trembling forearms. “Need me to stop?”
“No!” Lucky held his breath, waiting for the pain to pass. When at last the discomfort receded to manageable, he thrust back, inviting Bo inside. Slowly, slowly Bo entered, eyes trained on Luckys face.
Each time Lucky flinched or hissed, Bo stopped, only resuming again when bidden. At last he lay flush against Luckys body, his tremulous little smile making another appearance.
Grasping one of Luckys hands in his, Bo raised it over Luckys head for more leverage. His thrusts grew deeper, rocking both Lucky and the bed. The steady
squeak squeak
of the ancient bed frame dueled with Bos quiet moans and Luckys quieter pants.
Finally, wrapping both his arms beneath Lucky, Bo lifted him, thrusting deeper still, burying himself completely in the recesses of Luckys body. Lucky slid his now-free hand between their bellies, wrapping it around his cock and pumping in time with the squeaking bed.
His pants turned to whimpers, masked by Bos steady chant of, “Oh God, oh God, oh God…” Helpless, desperate noises escaped them both. Luckys muscles seized and he cried out as he came, hand slipping and sliding on his flesh while, above him, Bos strangled cries could have been “Lucky” or merely mindless grunts.
The candles cast eerie shadows on the ceiling, and Lucky lay peaceful and sated in Bos arms. He didnt realize hed drifted off until, “Lucky, you awake?” had him jumping, breaking contact between his sweatplastered face and Bos chest.
“Am now.” Stifling a yawn, he asked, “Something on your mind?”
“Yeah. I have a confession to make.”
“Oh?”
Please dont tell me you faked this whole thing, and that what we did was only one more fuck to you.Oh God, its finally happened. Ive turned into a teenage girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Remember how I told you I stole meds for a friend?”
“Errr…yes?” He wanted to ask, “Cant this wait until morning?” but successfully held his tongue, waiting. When Bo wanted to share, hed learned to listen.
“He was my boyfriend.”
“I figured that might have been the case,” Lucky lied, confused by a sudden flash of jealousy.
Why was he bringing this up now?
“He was a few years younger than me, a poly-sci major who dumped me when I was arrested. Said it wasnt in his best interests to associate with a known felon. I can kinda see his point, what with him wanting a career in politics.” Though he kept his voice steady, he didnt fool Lucky, who heard the hurt hiding beneath the feigned indifference.