Lucky drove past the Magnolia Rehabilitation Center for the second time that day. Why were so many streets in the South named “Magnolia” or “Peach Tree”? Yet those names beat out “Palmetto Bug” or “Big-Assed Skeeters”, other things the South had in plentiful supply.
There were other, shorter ways to get home, but who wanted to follow the same route all the time? And Magnolia Center wasn’t far out of the way. A mile or twelve.
The forbidding brick building hadn’t changed, appearing more sinister with the gloom and fog, and the “A place to find peace” sign didn’t comfort Lucky at all.
Enough rain fell for him to turn on headlights and windshield wipers. Rubber strands that used to be wiper blades crept across the windshield, doing absolutely nothing to wipe away the rain.
Fuck. Time to add wipers to the long list of things to be fixed on the Camaro: brakes, shocks, exhaust system. Throw in new tires too. And a front end alignment. The transmission slipped yesterday.
Well, it was a free country, and wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to stop him from pulling into a convenient parking lot to fix his car. Bo might see him from a window. Better tell him the deal. Lucky texted: In parking lot, working on car. U need anything?
Not that he expected an answer. The trunk yielded a bottle of stuff he’d bought at the auto parts store to make water bead off the windshield without using the wipers. Vibration from his pocket made him jump.
He yanked his phone out and checked the screen. A text! From Bo!
What’s wrong?
Hallelujah, Bo spoke! Well, sort of. Lucky’s hands shook so badly he barely got the words typed out. Old. Parts wearing out.
Bo replied, I meant the car.
Hardy-har-har. Very funny. Still, Bo spoke to him.
Got a minute?
What? A minute? How about a lifetime? Lucky messed up three times and had to start over trying to type with trembling hands, and finally managed legible text with the help of the auto correct function on his phone. What you got in mind?
Come in?
Lucky dashed to the front entrance, leaving the trunk open and door unlocked. Screw it. Let thieves have it all.
Bo said “jump”. Now to find out how high.
The attendant greeted Lucky at the door, hands on her hips. “Mr. Harrison, I’m sorry, but…”
“It’s okay,” said a familiar voice. Outside, the rain fell. Inside, the world got brighter. “Let him in.”
Bo stood in the hallway in a gray T-shirt and sweat pants, hair standing every which way on his head, and he’d let his face scruff do its own thing.
Fucking gorgeous.
Lucky drank in the vision like a thirsty man. God, had it only been two weeks?
Every ounce of Lucky’s being wanted to pounce and tumble Bo to the floor. But hell, he’d gotten his foot in the door. Better behave.
“Are you sure?” The woman stood no taller than Lucky, with a thinner build, and two-inch talons on her fingers painted bright orange today. Her rigid stance said she’d fight to the death to protect Bo.
Yeah, that made two of them.
“Yes, ma’am. I’d like you to meet my partner. Lucky, this is Brenda, Brenda, Lucky. I’ve told you about him.”
His partner. Bo said, “partner”. He’d also mentioned Lucky to this woman. No wonder she wouldn’t let him past the desk.
Old instincts kicked on, and terror of being found out. For a moment Lucky froze.
Brenda smiled. “I kinda figured, but wasn’t sure. If you’d sign in?” She held out a pen and clipboard.
Lucky scribbled his name, keeping his eyes on Bo in case he changed his mind.
“C’mon, no one’s on the patio.”
Lucky followed Bo down a hallway and out a door to a couple of picnic tables and chairs. Damp red, gold, and orange leaves stirred in a breeze. Late October. About when they’d first met two years ago. An awning shielded them from the mist, but not the chill.
The cold caused an involuntary shiver. “You’re not cold?” I’ll volunteer to be your blanket.
Bo shook his head. “It’s too stuffy in there. Better out here.” He sank into a padded chaise lounge and patted the one next to him.
Lucky could’ve used a jacket, but he’d brave an arctic freeze bare-assed for a few moments with Bo. He sat and stretched out his legs, struggling not to reach out and touch. Better let Bo make the first move.
Bo stared at a shrub a few feet away, its leaves brilliant orange.
Oh, pretty. One of those would look nice in the front yard of their new home. What the fuck was Lucky thinking? First to get the house, then convince Bo it would be their home.
Without a word Bo laced their fingers. “You’re not going away, are you?”
What was he supposed to say? Bo cracked the door, letting Lucky in a little. One wrong word and Bo’d slam the door in his face again. Lucky ventured, “Wasn’t planning to.”
“I laid a whole lot on you in Mexico, about me losing my mind and beating up Darren. Have you changed your mind about me yet?”
“Why would I? Compared to me, you’re a choir boy.” Bo knew the worst about his life before the SNB, about ten percent of what Lucky’d done with the SNB, and that he was still an all-around asshole. A man would have to get up early in the morning to beat Lucky’s record.
“Maybe you’ve decided it’d be best not to live with a ticking time bomb.”
“And what if you decided not to live with an asshole with a bad attitude?” Ticking time bomb? If that’s how the poor guy thought of himself, no wonder he wouldn’t see anyone. Lucky’s mind wasn’t at peak performance these days either.
“I thought by not seeing you, not talking to you, you’d come to your senses.” Muscles clenched and unclenched in Bo’s jaw.
Maybe it wasn’t Lucky the man worried about. “Have you?”
Bo shook his head. “I’ve done a lot of thinking here. About you. About me. About the job. About all the shit that went on down in Mexico.”
Thinking was highly overrated. “And?”
“My probation time is up soon. My life will be my own again.”
The cold grew colder. Now wasn’t a good time to ‘fess up about the conversation with Walter and Bo’s pending job offer. “Any thoughts of what you want to do?” Please let it be with me.
Bo gave a halfhearted smile and squeezed Lucky’s fingers. “No. Right now my plans are to get out of this place.” He brought Lucky’s hand to his mouth and stroked Lucky’s knuckles across his chapped lips.
Lucky soaked up each bit of contact. Bo touching him meant something good, right?
How to convince the guy to stay? The last few months with the SNB hadn’t given him any good reasons to stick around.
There’d been a time when Lucky would’ve had Bo on the ground, and inside his jeans he’d grown so hard he hurt. But he wanted more than the man’s body now: he wanted Bo, mind, body, soul, obsessive compulsive cleaning tendencies and all. He scooted his chair close enough to rest a leg across Bo’s.
Bo rocked his leg under Lucky’s and dropped their joined hands to his lap. The heat from his groin caressed Lucky’s fingers. Bo held tight. “God, how I’ve missed you. I thought after a few days I’d be able to focus on other things, but every day I wake up with you on my mind, and go to sleep at night wondering where you are and what you’re doing.” He stared out at the rain. “I’ll be flat honest. When I checked in here, I figured we were done. That once you thought things through you’d run screaming. I can’t say I’d blame you.”
As if! “You done been gone so long you forgot how stubborn I am.” Good thing Lucky wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep his mind on anything else but his lover.
“Yes, you are. You called, you texted, you dropped by. You wouldn’t leave me alone to my pity party.” So quietly Lucky barely heard, Bo added, “Thanks.”
“The PTSD, Mexico, the drugs. I could tell you all day long how none of that’s your fault, but I’m sure you wouldn’t listen.”
Breath misted in front of Bo’s face. “No. Things happen for a reason. Maybe I brought all the crap down on myself. But, Lucky?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.”
“Me too.” Bo still wanted him. The vice around Lucky’s heart sprang open.
Bo locked gazes with Lucky, showing a world of hurt and uncertainty.
Every doubt, every what-if that had plagued Lucky these past few weeks, they’d haunted Bo too. How could the man doubt Lucky’s love?
Oh yeah. The not wanting to be seen as a couple, the lengths it took to make him commit. No wonder Bo missed what was right in front of him.
Lucky leaned over the chair arms, grabbed Bo, and yanked.
Bo landed on top of him, hands everywhere at once. He slammed his mouth down hard on Lucky’s, hard enough to cause a wince when their teeth clacked. But not hard enough to make him stop.
With all his might, Lucky wrapped Bo in his arms. If he held on tight enough the man couldn’t ever leave again, couldn’t scare him again, couldn’t find himself in harm’s way.
Lucky poured every bit of his loneliness, insecurity, and all the bad stuff into their connection, willing Bo to understand. And with each swipe of his tongue Bo purged the hurt, the anger, the fear. In its place he gave love, the promise of something better. Hope. He gave hope.
His warm hands on Lucky’s chilled skin chased back more than physical cold. The twisted chains inside Lucky’s gut loosened. His heart beat freer, he breathed easier. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Hell, with their jobs, they might never be. They might well spend the rest of their lives fighting demons.
With Bo at his back, bring ‘em on.
“Never shut me out like that again,” Lucky pulled back enough to growl.
“Won’t,” Bo got out before fusing their mouths again.
They came up for air. “And don’t you ever let me go.”
“Can’t.”
Lucky’s cock hurt like hell, but rubbing off against his partner while the woman at the front desk watched on a security screen wasn’t happening. He made a quick package adjustment while Bo did the same, then settled the man in beside him on the chair.
Which lasted all of a minute until Lucky shivered.
Bo hopped up. “Damn. Here I am thinking about me, and you’re freezing. C’mon. There’ll be other people in there, but we can sit and talk in the rec room.”
“I’m comfortable.” Lucky fought off another shiver. It was fucking cold out here, especially without Bo. “And around other people, I can’t do this.” He stood, lifted Bo’s chin with stiff fingers, and kissed him.
“Then I’ll be right back.”
Bo dashed into the building and back out again a few moments later. “Here.” They squeezed into the chair together and Bo tucked them both into a blanket. Ah… better.
With the blanket covering them, they could sneak in a hand job, but Lucky ignored his body’s demands and held Bo, enjoying his warmth, his scent, his not giving up on them.
Several times the words were on the tip of his tongue to tell Bo about the house, but Lucky kept his mouth shut. Bo used to talk about moving in together. No telling how he felt now, and pushing might make him run.
“My probation time is up soon. My life will be my own again.” What if Bo’s future didn’t have a place for reminders of his past?
Right now Bo was here, and Lucky wasn’t about to borrow trouble.
In time, he fell asleep with Bo’s arm flung over his chest. For the first time in weeks, he woke up content.
***
“Wanna go pick up some fast food?” Johnson stood at Lucky’s cube, hand on her hip. Five minutes until quitting time, and Lucky intended to beat the pack out the door today.
“What happened to Phillip?”
Johnson scowled. “He’s off gallivanting with his boss today. O’Donoghue likes to yank his leash every now and then to prove he can. Makes him feel like a big man.”
Okay. Sounded like Lucky wasn’t alone in not liking the DEA big shot on loan to the SNB. “I’m afraid I got other plans.” It wouldn’t hurt you go out with Johnson. Yeah, but visiting hours at the center aren’t long. Sorry, Johnson. Visiting Bo won out. “How about another time?”
She gave a halfhearted smile. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll go work out instead. The better to kick your ass if we ever make it to the gym.” Johnson sauntered off, but her steps were slower than usual.
And since when did he give a shit about disappointing other people? Strange, her hangdog expression tugged at his heartstrings.
The moment the clocked clicked to five, he shut down his laptop and dashed past the throngs heading down the corridor, and beat them to the elevator. The door closed on several hopeful faces. Hopeful, rather, until they caught a glimpse of him. “I’ll catch the next one,” one woman said.
Let ‘em. Lucky didn’t need their mindless chatter anyway.
It took three tries for him to fire up his Camaro, and he pulled out of the parking garage to another cloudy day. Damn. He hadn’t fixed his wipers yet and rain might start any second. Oh well, time to stop by the auto parts store—at least for wipers. Picking out everything the car needed would take a few hours.
He made it to Magnolia Center in a half hour, plus the time to slap a new pair of wipers on the car. Bo met him at the reception desk.
The attendant grinned. “You boys behave yourselves, okay? The patio camera is on the fritz again. Maintenance will be here to fix it in about an hour.” She winked and strolled away.
Lucky trotted behind Bo out to the patio again. The door clicked shut. Bo grabbed Lucky’s shoulder and slammed him back against the brick wall.
“Wha…?”
Bo’s mouth on Lucky’s stopped the words. Today two layers of leather jacket separated them, but Bo shoved his hands beneath to run up Lucky’s chest.
“What about What’s-her-name?” Lucky strung together enough brain cells to ask. He didn’t trust that “camera on the fritz” bit.
“She’s turning a blind eye as long as we don’t get too frisky.”
Bo’s lips on Lucky’s neck fizzled out any thoughts more complex than “Oh. Good.”
Body to body, Bo rubbed against Lucky, the stiffness in his jeans matching the stiffness in Lucky’s own.
Lucky might blow right here, right now.
“Even if she’s watching and lied about the camera, it doesn’t cover here by the wall. I checked,” Bo whispered against Lucky’s ear. “And she’ll keep anyone else from coming out. Not that anyone does now with the crappy weather.” He unbuttoned and unzipped Lucky’s jeans and plunged his hand inside.
Lucky bucked into Bo’s grip while fumbling with the front of Bo’s jeans and palmed his erection through a layer of denim. “Get these open.”
Bo stepped back, unbuttoned, unzipped, and resumed his position against Lucky. Mouth to mouth, shoulder to shoulder, and hands on each other’s cocks, they stroked. Bo moaned into Lucky’s mouth.
And somehow the prospect of an audience ramped up the lust factor. Bo liked public sex. Whether the possibility of getting caught or exhibitionist tendencies turned him on, at the moment nothing mattered but how good his hand felt on Lucky after them being apart for so long.
In other circumstances, a few filthy words about getting caught might kick the heat factor up a notch, but given how things had gone lately, Bo might shut down.
The center, the rain tapping out a steady rhythm on the roof, even the woman inside faded to nothing. The world narrowed down to Bo: the taste of green tea on his tongue, the comforting weight of his body pressed to Lucky’s, and his hand, his talented hand, stroking Lucky.
Lucky closed his eyes, tilting his head farther back to rest against a rough brick wall.
Bo moaned again.
Oh, fuck! Oh fuck! Lucky lost control, shattering into tiny pieces. Somehow, he managed a faltering tempo.
Bo shot, his come coating Lucky’s hand. They leaned against each other, panting despite the chill, foreheads pressed together. Bo let out a laugh. “I can’t believe we did that.”
Lucky couldn’t either, but he was too busy trying to keep his knees from buckling to form words.
“Stay still.” Bo messed around with his pants, producing a wad of tissue he used to clean them up—somewhat. Good that the “taking care of everybody” part of his personality hadn’t disappeared completely.
Once they were respectable again—or as respectable as Lucky got—they lay together under a blanket on the chaise lounge.
“How are you doing?” Lucky asked.
Barely enough space existed between them for Bo to shrug. “I dunno. My counselor says I’m getting better at recognizing when Cyrus tries to take over, and can distinguish his reactions from my own.”
He rested his head on Lucky’s chest. Good. At least he wasn’t running like he often did when he most needed a warm shoulder and comforting arm.
“They’re both a part of you, but remember, you created Cyrus. You control him, he doesn’t control you.” Lucky never went undercover long enough to blur the lines between fantasy and reality, and had enough felon in him to not play a role, only tap into his darker side. And no one had shot drugs into him on a daily basis.
“You sound like my counselor now.”
Was that a good thing, or a bad thing? “But you’re able to figure out who’s at the wheel, right?” Cyrus had his advantages, like not suffering from Bo’s heavy conscience. He looked out for himself. The self-preservation instincts could stay as long as they didn’t interfere with who Bo was.
Bo nodded but kept quiet.
Rain patted on the patio beyond their awning. They nestled together with the tap, tap, tap, and sluicing of tires against wet pavement as background noise.
After several moments, Bo broke the quiet. “My lease is up on my apartment. They called me today.”
“What did they say?” Getting words out of Bo didn’t used to be so hard.
“They want me to sign another year’s lease.”
No. Please no. Not another year apart. “The offer to move into my place still holds. That is, if you want to.”
“You’d never ask me to move in to be nice, but are you sure you want to give up your freedom and personal space to have me around all the time?” Bo raised his head and focused his deep brown eyes on Lucky.
Lucky’s bank account. His car. Hell, everything he owned was Bo’s for the taking.
His insides quivered. God, his man was gorgeous, in a way most people never noticed. There was a fire to him, an energy. Whatever it was, the raw power drew Lucky in and wouldn’t let go.
Lucky trusted little in the world, so life wouldn’t let him down. Couldn’t let him down. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Bo dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “And if I snap one day? Go bat shit insane?”
“You won’t.” I’ll catch you if you fall.
Bo remained quiet for a while. Too long. Nerve-wrackingly long. “You can’t know that.”
“Then we’ll deal. Who’s to say I won’t snap? Or one day we wake up to the cat dangling a dead mouse in front of our noses.”
Bo snorted. “He’s too lazy to hunt. You feed him too well.”
Nope. No changing the subject. “We’ve already had this conversation. Well, not about the mouse thing. I can handle anything you throw at me. And I thought we’d agreed to move in together.”
“Just wanted to offer you an out in case you had second thoughts. I’ve been thinking about what we said in Mexico, about buying a house together.”
Cool! Time for Lucky to share his news. “About that—”
“I think we should wait. I mean, I’m not sure about what I want right now. One minute I think about staying on with the SNB if they offer, the next I’m online digging through college course books and dreaming about going back to school or something.”
What? No pressure. Don’t give him any pressure. He can’t stand any more. The shattering of Lucky’s dreams rang loud in his head. Don’t let it show! Don’t let it show! At least Bo hadn’t mentioned moving away from Atlanta.
It took a lot of effort for Lucky to say, “If that’s what you think’s best.” Fuck! What about the house? Now wasn’t the time to tell him. He might see the token of commitment as Lucky forcing his hand.
“So, you okay with me moving in with you? What about your landlady?”
Now was Lucky’s turn to snort. “If it came down to a choice between me and you, you’re her favorite. You have that effect on people.” If anyone didn’t like Bo, Lucky hadn’t found them. Hell, even the fur ball that’d barged into Lucky’s life meowing sucked up to Bo. Figured. The little ho cat made nice with Johnson too.
“The doctors here think I should be ready to leave in a few more weeks. Too bad that means leaving my counselor. I’ll see someone else once I’m discharged, but she’s easy to talk to.”
“Want me to go ahead and move you?” Quick! Before he changes his mind!
“I can’t ask that of you. I got too much stuff to move alone. Why don’t I give notice and pay another month?”
“Save your money. I won’t be alone. She don’t know it yet, but someone volunteered to help.” Johnson wanted to be Lucky’s friend? What good are friends if I don’t intend to use ‘em?
They huddled together in the chair, not speaking. Lucky squirmed and rearranged his cock. He’d gotten off a few minutes ago and already needed another round. His movement wafted their combined scents from under the covers. No doubt about what they’d been doing.
The door squeaked open behind him the moment Lucky snaked his hand into Bo’s jeans for round two. “Sir? I’m afraid visiting hours are over.”
Fuck.
Or maybe not.
***
“Oh, pretty!” Johnson held up one of Bo’s dragon statues. “The boy has good taste… in some things.”
Lucky snatched the figurine out of her hand. “Hush up and earn the case of beer I’m paying you.” Somehow, luring Johnson into helping him pack hadn’t been such a good idea.
“Yes, boss.” Could she sound more mocking? “But you should’ve warned me before I packed the bedside table.”
It’d be a cold day in Hell before she’d let Lucky live down how fast he’d run when she’d found Bo’s toy.
Lucky pulled himself up to his full height—six inches shorter than Johnson. “You so much as breathe a word to Bo, and they’ll never find your body.”
She raised her hands, palms splayed. “Wasn’t gonna.”
Good. He’d hate to hurt her.
“I don’t promise to not use it against you whenever I need blackmail material.” She danced out of the way of Lucky’s swat. Damned short-assed T-Rex arms.
A pile of packed boxes formed in the living room, marked to take to Lucky’s, and larger items, like Bo’s bed, landed in a rented storage unit.
The toy he’d take to the house. When Johnson wasn’t looking.
“Oh, now, I like this.” Johnson pulled a photo out of a drawer of a much younger Bo, baby-faced and in uniform.
Lucky snatched the picture from her hand. “I’ll take that. And any more you find.” He rummaged through the drawer. Other pictures showed the man in uniform, with a smiling woman and a sullen teen who looked enough like Bo to be his younger brother. Must be the aunt who’d raised him.
Bo mentioned patching things up with their families one day. Lucky flipped through a few more photos and found one of two young boys, one unmistakably Bo, with a woman and a man. Had to be his parents. The man, woman, and Bo smiled. The younger boy had his lip poked out.
Bo had his mother’s smile, eyes, and dark hair. The man and boy had reddish curls. The mother who’d died and the father who’d turned out to be an abusive asshole. Lucky picked out a few pictures to take to the house, the rest he shoved into a box. If Bo wanted to see them again, the pictures or the people, Lucky would be there.
***
“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Schollenberger isn’t taking visitors right now.”
Lucky placed a Starbucks cup of green tea on the desk. “I thought I’d been cleared to see him.”
The receptionist glanced up and down empty halls, leaned across her desk, and whispered, “He’s kinda had a bad day.”
Damn. “Will you at least give him this?” Lucky pushed the tea forward.
“I will.”
Lucky took slow steps back to his car, hoping for a “Wait! Stop!” that never came.
His ten text messages went unanswered.
***
Holy fuck! What would Bo say about the blood? He’d have Lucky’s hide for messing up the house.
Blood covered the comforter, the floor, even oozed from the walls. Where could Lucky hide the dead body? Bo should be home soon! He’d have a fit over the mess.
Lucky charged into the living room. What to do? What to do?
Bo stood in the middle of the room, lips bloodless, eyes staring.
No, he didn’t stand—he hung.
Lucky screamed.
***
Lucky shot upright out of the bed. The cat scrambled out of the room, hissing. Fuck. Not again. Much more and snap! Goodbye mind.
He stepped over boxes into the kitchen. Six a.m. Hell, he might as well make coffee. More boxes sat on the counter. He pushed them out of the way of the coffeepot. Bo’s stuff. But no Bo.
If Bo were there, he’d hold Lucky, tell him everything would be okay. Not that Lucky wanted a hug right now. Not really. Oh hell, who was he kidding? Bo. He needed Bo…
…who’d tell him to talk to Walter. Damn it. Too fucking early now.
Telling Walter about the nightmares would make everything real. Others would find out, forcing Lucky to face the music.
But he’d kill a dozen guys to save Bo. And he’d sure as hell pull the trigger on Stephan Mangiardi and not lose a moment of sleep.
Where was the bastard? Was he coming after Lucky? Were Mexican henchmen planning to take out Bo?
Fuck. Lucky might never sleep again.