Redemption (16 page)

Lucky threw back his head and laughed.

Chapter Eleven

Lucky stood in the dilapidated warehouse. This time, he didn’t have to pick any locks like the day he’d found Vincent’s body. The doors stood open. Once more his Kevlar vest chafed him beneath his shirt.

Nestor placed a hand on Lucky’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “Lucky, my friend, here’s where we part company. But should you have a change of heart, you’re welcome anytime. And I dare say Graciela will take it as a personal insult if you don’t visit her.”

Bo stood off to the side, his mere presence as reassuring as an arm around the shoulders.

“Nestor, let’s not kid ourselves. You’ve helped me. Thanks. Hell, Bo and I might not have made it out of Mexico in one piece without you. But we’re in different businesses, and if it comes down to it, either one of us will have to do what we have to do.” It might break Lucky’s heart to arrest the man. But if he proved half the things Nestor intimated, the man would spend the rest of his days in solitary confinement or wind up on death row.

“Then let’s hope it never comes to that.
Vaya con Dios
, my friend. I have a final gift for you.” He handed Lucky the jewelry box.

“I told you I don’t want that.”

“But you haven’t looked inside.”

Lucky lifted the lid. Bo’s hummingbird spirit totem. He slipped it out and into his jeans pocket. “Thanks.”

“
De nada
. What about the rest?”

Two gold rings, a few chains, a Rolex. Things Lucky had no use for now. “You remember that kid who’d offered to watch the car that time? The one who’d lost his father?”

“Yes.”

“Give it to his family, for his school.”

Nestor’s grin showed even, white teeth. “That, I will do.” He clapped Lucky on the shoulder. “Happy Thanksgiving. Now, time to send you home.”

“What about you?” The man had his revenge. What now?

“Oh, don’t worry about me. You see, I’ve been considering your advice. Maybe it’s time to retire. At any rate, I’ve reconnected with an old friend, and tomorrow I’ll leave for Paris. See the sights. I’ve even given thought to painting again.”

Lucky shook the man’s hand. “Take care of yourself, old man.”

“You do the same. And Lucky?”

“Yes?”

“Old habits die hard. I’ll still be watching over you.”

The words comforted Lucky as much as they scared him.

He waited until he and Bo were out of visual range to pull Bo into his arms. They’d done it. They’d returned to Mexico, met Nestor face to face, sent Stephan to justice, and were now on their way back home.

So much could go wrong.

“What did he talk to you about?” Bo asked once they’d resumed their trek, hand in hand, path illuminated by an overhead string of lights. The darkness earlier must’ve been for Stephan’s benefit, not Lucky’s.

“Remember when Stephan said he’d kill me if it weren’t for the will?”

“Yeah.”

“Sly old coot Victor arranged for me to have dual citizenship and inherit. He’d originally left everything to Graciela, but was scared of what Vincent and Stephan might do to her.”

“Holy shit! So you inherited Victor’s estate?”

“No. Seems I had a little accident with the will and a candle flame.”

“You realize that’s not binding, right?”

“Nestor’ll make it stick. I think he just wanted to see what I’d say. Graciela and her kids are the rightful heirs.”

“Why Graciela?”

“She was Victor’s father’s mistress. Victor called her ‘Mama’.”

Bo stopped and stared with wide eyes.

“What?”

“I asked her once, but she didn’t answer. If it’s true, Graciela’s children are Victor’s half-brothers and sisters.”

“Yeah?”

“Cruz is her grandson.”

“Fuck me. All this time, Cruz sat at Stephan’s table, and Stephan didn’t even recognize his own cousin. Victor’s nephew.”

“Arrogant bastard. Serves him right.”

Who’d have thought it? Cruz, a Mangiardi in all but name. “Let’s go home.” Lucky tugged on Bo’s fingers until they arrived at the stairs. “Ready to face the music?”

“With you? Sure.” Bo leaned in and gave Lucky a fleeting kiss. “As long as it’s not Achy Breaky Heart.”

Bo. He was Bo again.

But tonight he’d proven he hadn’t truly gotten rid of Cyrus. “Stephan was blowing smoke out his ass when he said you were like him.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Bo wouldn’t meet Lucky’s eyes.

Before Lucky thought of anything to say, Bo hit the switch and hydraulics drowned out any words. Lucky dropped Bo’s hand and climbed upward, humming Achy Breaky Heart and earning a scowl from Bo.

They stepped out into the warehouse, to cheers, catcalls, and back pats.

Walter growled, “I expect a thirty-page report. And don’t you dare ever pull a stunt like that again. Do you have any idea the fast talking I had to do to keep the Marshal from coming in after you?”

The Marshal in question drove them to the airport, shooting Lucky pissed off glares in the rearview mirror.

Lucky couldn’t get home fast enough. Chapters of his life had now closed. Time to open a few new ones—with Bo.

***

A short flight later, Lucky climbed into the back seat of Walter’s Range Rover, while Bo took the wheel. As many times as Lucky had been in the boss’s SUV, the boss only drove if he couldn’t talk someone else into driving. He’d rather ride shotgun and drink one of those frou-frou coffee drinks he liked so much.

Ten minutes from the Atlanta airport Walter got a call. His voice grew grave. “Yes, I understand. No, we’ll be ready. When? That’s fine. I’ll call when I get into the office.”

He sighed, ended the call, and put his phone way.

“What’s wrong, boss man?” Lucky asked.

“That was our staff attorney. Stephan Mangiardi has already sought counsel.”

“So. We expected that.”

Walter stared out the window a long moment. “He’s claiming impropriety on behalf of you and Bo.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Bo muttered from the front seat, “He’s trying to get the charges dropped by saying we screwed up the case.”

“But we have a recorded confession!”

Walter peered at Lucky between the seats. “He’s claiming conflict of interest because of the two of you having a personal relationship.”

Oh shit.

“Can he do that?”

“Unfortunately, he can. He’s a desperate man, clutching at straws to save himself.” Walter falling silent for the rest of the trip didn’t bode well. Like a computer, sometimes processing information took all his energy. In his mind he’d be wheeling and dealing, working on the best way to spin the situation in Bo and Lucky’s favor.

Bo parked Walter’s vehicle in the nearly empty SNB parking garage and got out. Lucky chased after him and caught up at Bo’s Durango. “Where are you going?”

“You heard the boss. Stephan might walk because we’re together. Since it’s Friday and we have the day off for the holiday, I’m gonna find a hotel.”

Lucky’s heart sank to his feet. “Don’t do that. We’ll work it out. I promise.”

The pain in Bo’s eyes cut Lucky down to the soul. “I wish I believed you, but too much is at stake. I… I can’t.”

“What about Monday? My car’s parked in the yard, barely working.”

“I’ll pick you up. And someone at work recommended a good mechanic. Since you refused to take my truck, we can get you a rental until your car’s fixed.”

The muscles in Bo’s jaws clenched.

Fuck it all to hell. Lucky closed the distance, putting his hand on Bo’s arm. “We’ll get through this.”

Bo flinched away. “You tried to tell me all along that we shouldn’t get involved. Turns out you were right. Go figure.” He shot a glance at Walter, waiting a few yards away. “Does he know about us?”

Fuck. Confession time. “Yes. And he says there’s nothing the department can fault us with.” He turned Bo’s own words back around. “Turns out you were right. We were already involved when the department hired Simon Harrison.”

“What about the non-fraternization policy?”

“He says that’s designed to keep married folks from having affairs on the job.”

Bo dropped his gaze to the ground. “Still, I’d feel better staying at a hotel.”

It might be fighting dirty, but Bo was worth fighting for. “What about Cat Lucky and Moose? What will I tell the kids?” What would he tell Mrs. Griggs, who taken one look at the big goofball of a dog and proclaimed herself Auntie Delores, and offered dog sitting services to go with all the times she took care of Cat Lucky?

That earned Lucky a half-smile. The smile disappeared as quickly as it’d come. “I don’t know. Right now I don’t know anything. I can’t deal with this right now.” Bo unlocked his Durango. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

No, Lucky couldn’t take having Bo in his yard but not his house. “Go on. I’ll get Walter to take me home and pick me up Monday.” After a good night’s sleep Bo would come to his senses. “If you need me, call me.”

God, let Bo need him.

***

“You mean to tell me that because Stephan goes shooting his mouth off that we can’t even be seen together?” Lucky strained to keep his voice down in the neutral territory of his and Bo’s shared office cube. Being at work on a Saturday was freaky, but Bo considered this neutral ground enough to talk.

“No. But we should consider me getting my own place again.” Bo kept his eyes trained on the fingers he twisted together in his lap. “My old apartment’s still available.”

Lucky shouldn’t push, but the words escaped his mouth anyway. “What about us getting a house together? We talked about it.”

“And you said you weren’t ready.”

When had Lucky said that? Fuck. He eyed the calendar by his desk. He’d close on the house in less than a week. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Once they arrested Stephan, the hard part should’ve been over.

Bo slid his chair across the cube toward Lucky. “I don’t like being apart any more than you do, but I’ll be damned if I let this case fall through our fingers because we couldn’t keep our dicks in our pants.”

Even living together, Lucky’s dick had stayed in his pants far too much in the past few weeks. “Can we at least see each other outside of work? Go to dinner? Who’ll take care of Moose if I have to stay overnight on assignment?”

The stern set of Bo’s jaw softened. “I can still come over and take him for walks. We can hang out. But at night I need to go home, and we need to be discreet.”

“Have you discussed this with Walter?”

“No. Why should I? You already told him about us.”

Yeah, Bo wasn’t supposed to find out like this. “We talked while you were in the hospital. He’d already figured things out and was hurt we didn’t say.”

“I see. And exactly when did you intend to clue me in?”

“Did I have to?”

“Damn it, Lucky!” Bo slammed his hand down on his desk. “We’ve been through this. We promised never to lie to each other again. How can we trust each other if we don’t tell the truth? How are we going to live together, share our lives together, if we can’t even be honest?”

Lucky hid so many things from Bo that would piss him off to find out now. “You had enough on you at the time. I didn’t want to add more.”

“Add more? Add more!” Bo jumped up, sending his chair flying backwards into a filing cabinet and sending the tendrils of the Christmas cactus on top slithering down the sides. “Did you honestly think so little of me that I have to be coddled and can’t handle the truth? Do you think I’m a kid or something?” He stalked over, a seething mass of rage. “Stop trying to protect me. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself. Speaking of, from now on, I can take myself to my own damn appointments. And isn’t it time you got counseling?”

Lucky was fucked no matter how he answered. He muttered, “I have been.”

“You have been what?”

“Seeing a therapist.”

“When?”

“I drop you off and go to my appointment right around the corner. I come back before you get out.”

Dear God. Steam was gonna pour off Bo any minute. Lucky followed the trail of red creeping up his face to his ears. “You’re going to therapy and you didn’t tell me? What’s wrong, Lucky, is it okay for me to be human and blab my problems to someone, but not you? Is that what you’re saying? Mr. I-can-handle-anything-on-my-own can’t even admit to needing help.”

“I didn’t say that!” Lucky shot out of his chair to stand toe to toe with Bo.

“Do you think talking to someone with a degree on their wall makes you less of a man? How do you think I feel, having to piss in a cup and spill my guts twice a week? Did it ever occur to you that knowing you went through what I did might help me accept the pile of shit my life has turned into? Stop treating me like I’m gonna break! That’s the last thing I need.”

Bo spun on his heel and stormed off. “And call off Mrs. Griggs, okay? She’s driving me nuts checking on me every five minutes!”

Johnson stuck her head into the cube the moment the elevator chimed down the hall, dressed in gym clothes. She jerked back to avoid the plastic cup Lucky lobbed at her and caught the missile in one hand. “I take it you don’t want to talk.”

“Hell no!”

“Then come on. Let’s run.” She threw the cup back.

***

Lucky put on a burst of speed to keep up with Johnson’s longer strides. The in/out of his breathing matched his footfalls. Their pace remained brisk enough to discourage talking.

The dry, brown leaves gave a satisfying crunch beneath his heels.

Stephan. Hell. Was he ever going to stop messing with Lucky’s life? Why didn’t he do everyone a favor and drop dead?

Chapter Twelve

Dr. Bright-eyes cut off Lucky’s latest evasion. “Mr. Harrison. I can’t help you if you won’t let me. You’ve been coming here for weeks now and we haven’t even discussed the issue that brought you here.” Twenty more minutes of this torture session, give or take. Good thing Lucky’d stopped wearing a watch. Time checking every ten seconds prolonged the torture. Watched pots and all.

Well, if she wanted him to talk, he’d give her an earful. Starting with his name. “Lucklighter.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lucklighter. Richmond Eugene Lucklighter. That’s my name.” Once upon a time, a million years ago. “But folks call me Lucky.”