Redemption (22 page)

Lucky rolled his eyes upward. “I didn’t say a thing.” He sucked in his own gut and shrugged into his hoodie. So they both needed more exercise.

“You didn’t have to.” Bo fist-bumped the gym owner and held the door open for Lucky.

The last two hours pressed down, slowing Lucky’s progress. Damn, what a headache. And with the excitement gone, aches shouted for attention. He was getting too old for this.

On the way over he’d imagined a distraught Bo slumped over in the passenger seat for their return trip. Instead, Bo skipped along on an adrenaline high. Now to catch him when he crashed.

Lucky sighed and got inside Bo’s truck. Bone weary and achy, he let the seat back and tried to get comfortable. “No comments from the peanut gallery needed. Just get us home.”

Every bump, every pothole, rattled through Lucky’s bones. Come tomorrow morning he wouldn’t be able to move.

“What’s wrong, old man? Can’t keep up with the young pup?”

Now wasn’t the time to remind Bo that he’d landed more punches than Lucky. “Just feeling a tad under the weather.”

Bo’s smile fell. “What? You’re sick and went to the gym with me? Idiot! What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

Storm clouds gathered on Bo’s face. “You said I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“Ah, you know what they say. No pain, no gain.” More softly Lucky added, “Morons. All right! I’ll admit it, I’m out of shape. Happy now?”

Bo drove home, casting anxious glances Lucky’s way every few minutes.

“Knock it off already. My younger brothers did worse. I’m fine.” The knife-gouging-into-Lucky’s-cheek had dulled to an insistent throbbing. His shoulder hurt at each touch. He gave up and stopped touching.

They got out of the truck and waved to the landlady, sitting in her usual spot on her front porch. Arm around Lucky’s shoulder, Bo led him to the front door.

“Soak in Epsom salts. That’ll do the trick,” Mrs. Griggs called. Lucky limped into the house.

“Got any Epsom salts?” Bo left Lucky in the living room and charged into the bathroom. Drawers and cabinet doors squeaked open and slammed closed.

Lucky shuffled to the bedroom on legs that didn’t want to bend. Damn, and he’d thought Bo out of shape. His attempt to pull his hoodie over his head ended on a grunt about halfway to the goal.

Even his bruises had bruises at this point, and without a proper cool down, soreness set in. He knew better. Water ran in the bathroom.

“Here, let me get that.” Bo yanked the thick cotton over Lucky’s head and let out a whistle. “You should have said something.” He traced his fingers over Lucky’s damaged shoulder.

“That little boo boo? I’ve had worse mosquito bites.” Liar. The direct hit might never fade to a memory. When Bo hit, he hit hard. But he hadn’t lost control. Not even come close.

Lucky laid his head against Bo’s shoulder. Bo stroked his fingers through Lucky’s hair. Ahh, that felt good. Now, to stand here and catch a little nap.

“C’mon. I’ve got your bath running. A good soak will make you feel better. I started some tea too.”

Arguing took more energy than Lucky had.

“You’re more of a coffee drinker, but chamomile is a natural sedative. Trust me, it’ll help.”

Yeah, trust a drug-wary pharmacist to know about natural cures. Lucky plopped down on the bed and let Bo strip off his clothes. He rolled into a ball, the pillowcase cool against his bruised jaw.

“Oh, no you don’t. Bath first. Soak. Tea. Then you nap while I fix dinner.”

Dinner? “Aren’t you even tired?” The guy had taken on Lucky and an asshole jerk too. He should be exhausted. Lucky raised his head enough to focus bleary eyes on Bo.

Bo glanced down. “Not really. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about a run later. Moose needs the exercise.”

Moose. Right. “Your crash and burn will hurt worse than mine.” Ah, nice, soft pillow. Now to stay in bed for about ten years.

Bo grabbed Lucky’s relatively unabused arm and yanked. “Bath, remember?”

“Sadist.”

“You learned a new word! I’m so proud. Now get your ass in the bathtub before I have to kick it again.”

Hell would freeze over before Lucky let on what the mere effort of crossing the floor cost him. His complaints vanished when he sank into a tubful of warm water. He closed his eyes and leaned back. If all went well, soon he’d be soaking in a tub big enough for the two of them. And Jacuzzi jets on his back? Heaven.

“Man, I can’t wait for…” slipped out of his mouth.

“Can’t wait for what?” Bo sat down on the closed toilet lid, washcloth in hand.

Oh shit. He’d almost let the secret slip. Totally exhausted wasn’t the time to explain concepts requiring a functioning brain. “Until supper. I’m starving. What you gonna fix?”

“What do you want?”

Normally, Lucky would have shouted, “You!” While his cock gave a valiant effort to rise, sex wasn’t happening anytime soon. He’d done gone and got old if he’d rather have a nap than screw Bo into the mattress.

Okay, nap first, screwing second. His cock rose a little more.

Soon he’d make it a point to set up candles, glasses of something nonalcoholic, and nibbles on the edge of the massive tub in their new home. He’d hand feed Bo, love him slowly while jets of water caressed them, and then… pour in a box of soap bubbles just ’cause he’d always wanted to do that and see what happened.

He’d soap Bo and have hot, slippery sex all over the bathroom floor. And in the kitchen. Hell, they’d christen every single room in the house.

“Lucky?”

Lucky jerked. “Was I asleep?”

Bo grinned. “Snoring.”

“Oh.” A yawn creaked Lucky’s jaw.

“Lean up.” Bo soaped the washcloth and ran the rough terrycloth over Lucky’s back. “You’ve got bruises and scrapes, but nothing too bad.”

“What about you?”

“You didn’t even fight back much, and the jerk might as well not have. He didn’t land a single good punch.” Bo snickered.

The bout in the ring could have gone so, so wrong.

“Lucky?” Bo brushed his lips against Lucky’s temple.

“What?”

“Thanks. I appreciate the risk you took today, and the
person
I pay to see each week wouldn’t agree with your methods, but I get what you did and why you did it. I still may lose control one day, but not today.”

“When are you gonna learn to trust me?”

“Can I? Do you promise to always tell me the truth?”

Right now a secret burned a hole in Lucky’s brain. He swallowed hard.

“I see.” Bo averted his gaze.

Oh, so he’d noticed. Lucky’s poker face may have fooled Nestor, but not Bo. “I promise that the only secrets I’ll keep is work-related stuff I can’t talk about, and surprises you don’t need to know about—yet.” There. That worked, right?

Bo narrowed his eyes. “What kind of surprises? I don’t like the bad kind.”

Okay, time for creative use of the truth. “Christmas and birthday presents. That sort of thing.”

“Okay.” Bo raised a skeptical brow.

“You mean the moment you think of something for me you’re gonna blurt it out?”

The brow dropped to a half-raise. “Well, no.”

With great effort Lucky lifted his hands from the water and cupped Bo’s face between his palms. “I’ll never keep anything from you that’ll hurt you. I promise.”

“Even if it’s something I might not like to hear?”

“Like what?”

“I pushed the relationship thing and never gave you a chance to have your say. What if you decide someday that the picket fence and whole nine yards isn’t what you want? Do you promise to talk to me and not up and leave?”

“You mean the picket fence is on the table again?”
Please let me be hearing right.

Bo gave him a sheepish smile. “I’ve decided to accept Walter’s offer, so I’ve got a job. If you want to, once all the Mangiardi mess is over, we can go house hunting. How would you like that? We’ll make of list of what we’re both looking for so we’ll have a house that feels like home. What about that fixer-upper you mentioned. Is it still on the market?”

Oh shit. What now?
Tell him, tell him, tell him!
“Bo, I—”

“That is, if you still want a basket case for a roommate.”

“Still want you? Of course I want you. No
still
about it.” But not as a roommate. As a lover. A partner. “I wish you’d met my folks. All you have to go by parent-wise is your no account dad.” Yeah, Lucky wouldn’t mind seeing them again himself. And getting a few questions answered. One day soon. “Mama and Daddy didn’t have much, but they had each other. Sometimes one wasn’t sure of what they wanted or needed, but the other always did. They’re a great team. Just because I balked at first don’t mean I don’t want the same things you do.”

“Good. ‘Cause I want us to be like that.” Bo turned Lucky this way and that, bathing him with a gentle hand. Lucky let him.

And Bo wasn’t letting Stephan’s accusations trip him out anymore. Good. One less thing to worry about at the moment.

In a house across town, a nursery waited, with colorful animals on the walls that the Lucky of a few years ago would have painted over on day one. How many times had he stared at that wall, goofy smile on his face, and visualized “one day”?

Bo awakened dreams Lucky never imagined—or never admitted, not even to himself. While watching his nephews his heart used to ache for a son or daughter of his own. One he’d never have brought into his former criminal life.

Now, though, he’d lived upright for the better part of ten years. Reluctantly at first, but being with Bo, he’d found his footing. Sure he’d made mistakes along the way. Would make more in the future. Bo taught him how to pick his ass up off the floor, dust off, and keep on going.

His family hadn’t forgiven him. Might never forgive him, especially now when they thought him dead. But Charlotte never cast judgement. Neither had Bo. Walter, who’d lived his entire life putting people like Lucky behind bars, well, he’d never pointed the shaky finger either, except when Lucky needed it.

Johnson didn’t judge. No, she tried to one-up him, listing her sins for bragging rights. A smile tugged at the corner of Lucky’s mouth. For better or worse, no matter what he’d done, a handful of folks still believed in him. High time he started believing in himself.

Look what he’d accomplished. He’d given up trafficking, now worked for the good guys. He’d make sure Stephan paid for his sins, and wipe Victor’s blood off his hands for good. Someone loved him, warts and all, and he’d even made the first true friend he’d had since the boy from the next farm over didn’t want to play the same games Lucky did in the hayloft.

He’d built a new life for himself. All because of Bo. Soon he’d work up enough courage to approach his family. They might kick him to the curb again, and he’d deserve their cold shoulder, but he’d try one more time. Damn, but he missed his folks. How he’d love them to meet Bo, find out Lucky hadn’t flushed his entire life down the crapper.

Maybe one day they’d get to meet a new grandchild. Lucky shook himself from his daydreams and splashed water on the floor. “I fell asleep again, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Bo smiled. “You’re cute when you’re sleeping.”

Oh hell no! “I am not cute.”

“If you say so. Now get your adorable ass out of the water. You’re pruning up.” Bo stood, grabbed a towel out of the cabinet, and held it out.

Lucky dragged himself out of too cool water. He shivered. Bo wrapped him in the towel. “Dry off and get in bed. I’ll be right there with your tea and something to eat.”

Without bothering to dry off, Lucky trudged into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, still wet. He jolted awake to Bo shaking his shoulder.

“Poor baby, I wiped you out, didn’t I?”

Lucky didn’t bother to argue. Not when the scent of pizza hit his nose. His stomach rumbled. He rolled over and propped his back against the headboard.

Bo pulled the covers up over his lap and handed him a plate. “Here ya go. Barbeque chicken pizza. Eat.”

The vegetarian ordered him chicken. “You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, I am, ain’t I? I’ll be right back.” Bo trotted out of the room and returned with a glass of water and a steaming cup. “This’ll make you feel better.” He set the drinks down and handed Lucky two pills. “Ibuprofen. They’ll help with the soreness. I found a bag of loose tea you had in the cabinet, along with a tea ball. I didn’t know you liked tea.”

Johnson’s special blend. Oh, yeah. Perfect. He hadn’t used it all.

Once more Bo left the room and returned with his own plate. “Veggie with extra mushrooms,” he announced, settling cross-legged on the bed. His damp, slicked back hair said he’d showered, and pizza delivery must have taken close to an hour.

“How long was I out?”

“’Bout an hour and a half. Loretta called. I told her you were asleep.”

Loretta Johnson, the only person with the SNB besides Walter who knew about Lucky and Bo. “Did she say what she wanted?”

“Was checking on me, actually.” Bo regarded Lucky with soulful gold-flecked brown eyes. “I appreciate what you did for me today. Things haven’t been great around here since I got back, but I’m trying to figure out who I am again. It’s just that I was Cyrus for so long.”

“I know.” Hell, Lucky owed Cyrus one hell of a debt for getting Bo through the last few months. But the crisis was over. Time for Bo to be Bo again. “Have you talked with Walter yet?”

“No. I figured I’d ride into work with you sometime this week, talk with him then.”

Uh-oh. Did Lucky’s failure to tell Bo about his after work activities tie in with the birthday and Christmas surprises deal?
Think, Lucky, think!

“Sure. But how will you get home? Gonna take me and come back and get me?” That’d set some tongues to wagging.

“Actually, I’m ready to come back. Like you said, I’m gonna find a new therapist. There’s no reason for me to be cooling my heels. I’m sure Walter’ll keep me busy.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Even if it meant Lucky working harder to find free time for the house. So much to do and he’d barely made a dent.

They finished dinner in silence. Bo locked up the house and slid into the bed. Lucky tried not to grunt when Bo pulled him close. The
whumf
! from the foot of the bed announced the dog’s arrival.