Lucky parked his car and glanced toward his landlady’s side of their shared duplex. Yep, there she was, just like always, and no sign of Bo peeking out the window. A day filled with worrying meant talking to her sooner rather than later.
Still, better make it quick. He tromped up her steps, scaring off a few cats. Oops. Better tone down his bad mood since he had a favor to ask. “Hey, Mrs. Griggs.”
“Hello, Lucky, what’s up? The kitchen sink isn’t leaking again, is it?”
“No.” But a leaky sink might spur Bo into action. Lucky would keep it in mind. “Everything’s fine with the house, but I need a favor.”
“Are you going away again? Need me to watch your cat?”
His cat? Well, yeah. It had once been Mrs. Griggs’ before moving next door. Pushy little fur ball.
“It’s Bo I’d like you to keep an eye on if you don’t mind. And without being obvious if you get my drift.”
The bathrobe-clad woman narrowed her eyes. “Trouble in paradise?”
Trouble in… Oh. “Nothing like that. He’s just not… hasn’t been feeling like himself lately. I worry about him when I’m at work.”
“Sure, I can do that.” Mrs. Griggs ran a weathered hand up and down a tabby’s back.
“Thanks.” If Bo wouldn’t let Lucky take leave and do the job himself, he’d settle for the next best thing.
Now, to break other news. Lucky took a deep breath. “I’m buying a house.” And leaving her in need of a new tenant.
She’d been a good landlady, except for not noticing when he’d gotten kidnapped, but hell, he couldn’t hold that against her.
“I wondered when you and Bo were gonna settle down.” She smiled and placed her hand over Lucky’s. “I’m sorry to see you go, but I’m happy for you.”
“Um… I haven’t told Bo yet.”
“I won’t spill the beans. But don’t you think you should if y’all are moving soon?”
“I will. When the time is right. I’m saving it for a surprise.” If Lucky told him now, no telling what Bo might say. It might make him happy—or piss him off.
“Don’t wait too long. You don’t want a good surprise to become a bad one. I don’t usually give relationship advice, being a single lady and all, but you can’t hide things from each other. That’s a surefire way to lose his trust.”
“I’ll tell him.” If only she knew how close her advice hit to home.
How would Bo take the news?
***
“What you want for dinner?” Lucky strode through the front door and placed his laptop bag on the floor by the couch. Bo didn’t appear to have moved all day.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry.”
“You want to go get something?” At one time Lucky cringed at the prospect of them being out together and folks figuring out they were lovers, but now considered setting the house on fire to get Bo off the couch. He’d place a banner ad in the local newspaper if it brought Bo back to him.
Maybe Lucky should take leave. But then he wouldn’t be able to slip out to the hardware store on lunch breaks and price out remodeling projects without Bo’s knowledge. And Bo wouldn’t like it. Damn.
Bo made no move to get up.
Cat Lucky, curled up in Bo’s lap, wasn’t helping matters. He should unsheathe those claws and stick them in Bo’s leg. That’d get him moving.
Lucky’s morning coffee cup sat on the kitchen table, a tell-tale ring around the edge. Cold coffee remained in the pot. Had Mr. Clean not noticed or did he not care?
“How about I make bacon and eggs, with lots of grease, and something with tons of white flour and sugar?” That ought to get a rise out of the man.
“Whatever.”
Fuck. Who was this guy who didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything, what had he done with Bo, and how could Lucky get Bo back?
Lucky threw together soup and sandwiches and brought them into the living room. “You ready to…”
No Bo. Snores came from the bedroom.
***
Lucky brought home supper the next night. “Have you talked to your brother or aunt lately?” As far as he knew, Bo hadn’t used his cell phone to call anyone but Lucky since moving in.
“Was I supposed to?” The snarky tone wasn’t necessary. Bo picked at his pizza without eating.
“Well, Thanksgiving’s coming up. I thought you might want to go home and see them.” Lucky took a big bite of veggie pizza, trying to tempt Bo.
Bo shot off the couch. “You trying to get rid of me?”
Where the fuck had he gotten such a stupid idea? “No! But the holidays are ‘bout here, and well, usually folks get together with family.” And the comments Bo made about reconnecting with family hadn’t been the words of a man with no Thanksgiving plans.
“I don’t see you planning any family reunions.”
Ouch!
“Oh, my God.” Bo’s eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that.” He dropped back beside Lucky on the couch. “Look, I’m not in the mood to face kinfolk and all their nosy questions, okay? Give me a little more time.”
While Bo showered, Lucky checked Bo’s phone. He’d deal with the guilt later. Twenty-seven unanswered messages, all from the same Arkansas number. Bo Schollenberger, phone home!
If Lucky could, he’d call his folks in a flat minute. Bo ignored a perfectly good family, a family that wanted him.
Oh, the running thing. Bo ran from problems, kept them inside, tried to deal with them on his own. Fuck. If Bo wouldn’t even text a response to his own family, what hope did Lucky have of Bo opening up to him?
***
“Bo?” Lucky climbed beneath the covers and turned off the light. Bo lay curled up facing the other way on the far side of the bed.
“Yeah?”
Lucky worked his way over, wrapped an arm around his man, and brushed his lips along the back of Bo’s neck.
Bo stiffened. “I’m kinda tired. Let’s go to sleep.”
Oh well. Back to cold sheets and the edge of the mattress. Even from his side of the bed Lucky sensed the tension bristling off his lover. “Can I do anything for you? Fix you a cup of tea?” Stay awake all night and keep watch? Hunt down whatever demons plague you? Johnson had stopped bringing over her magic elixirs once Lucky passed the drug test, but he still had some of her special tea blend.
“No. I just want to sleep.”
As far away as he was, he might as well have stayed at the center. But no, Lucky wanted him here, however much of Bo was here.
After a while Bo’s breathing leveled out. Lucky turned on the light. In sleep, the man appeared peaceful, like he never did during the day. The dark circles under his eyes remained. What did he need? How could Lucky help the man if Bo kept everything to himself?
He’d ask Charlotte, but Bo might take Lucky consulting his sister as betrayal. No, whatever Bo wrestled with he wanted to handle on his own. Bad enough Lucky confessing personal problems to Dr. Libby, but hell, a sledge hammer couldn’t break through the walls the man built. Sometimes, he locked down tight. Other times, like at the center, he at least showed Lucky a glimpse of his former self. A door to get back inside.
Now if only Lucky had a key.
Sleep wasn’t happening. No need to toss and turn and still wake up tired. Lucky padded out to the kitchen, easing the door closed behind him.
He settled down, cup of coffee in hand, cat beside him on the couch, to research PTSD on his laptop.
***
“No!”
Lucky jerked himself awake. “Bo?” He dropped his laptop on the coffee table and raced down the hall.
“No!” Bo moaned, thrashing about on the bed.
“Bo! You okay?” Lucky flipped the switch on the bedside lamp.
Bo fought the covers, twisting this way and that. “No! Alan, no!”
Lucky grabbed Bo by the shoulders and shook him. “Bo. Hey, wake up.”
Eyes flying open, Bo swung. Crack! Lucky grabbed his face and toppled off the bed. Holy fuck! That hurt!
“Oh my God!” Bo landed on the floor and pulled on Lucky’s hand. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Let me see.”
Lucky dropped his hand. He’d have a humdinger of a bruise come morning. The red-hot agony eased. “You were having a bad dream. I tried to wake you up.”
“Oh.” Bo hung his head. His hair stood up at odd angles. “Yeah. That’s been happening lately.”
Really? “Who’s Alan?”
Bo jerked up his head. “How do you know about Alan?”
Oh great. Another old boyfriend. Probably a saint, nothing like Lucky. “You called his name in your sleep.”
Turning to prop his back against the bed, Bo sucked in air and let the breath out in controlled measures. “Remember me telling you about the guy I fell in love with in the service?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t he straight?”
“Questioning. In the end he broke my heart and married his high school girlfriend while on leave.”
“You were lovers?” Jealousy rose in a surging tide. Now wasn’t the time.
“Not in the physical sense. Mostly we talked. He was the only one who understood me. He was cool, hadn’t yet figured himself out, though I think in other circumstances we’d have hooked up. His marriage put a damper on our friendship. He said hanging around with me was too much like cheating on his wife.”
“Did you look him up after you got out?” Down, jealousy, down!
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” It would rip Lucky’s heart out for Bo to smile and show The Dimple to someone else.
“He’s dead. We took enemy fire. One minute he was sitting beside me, the next… he died in my arms.”
Fuck. Lucky maneuvered around and yanked Bo to his chest. “And you lived his dying all over again in your dream.”
Bo nodded against Lucky’s shoulder.
“I’ve got you now. All that’s over.”
“It was until Stephan’s wonder drug. The nightmares, the fear. Everything I’d tried so hard to put behind me is back now.”
One more reason to hate Stephan Mangiardi.
Lucky planted a kiss on Bo’s forehead and added rocking to the holding. When Bo shook he tightened his hold, ignoring the moisture on his chest.
***
Lucky woke in the early morning hours but lay still. With any luck he hadn’t woken Bo. Bo lay plastered against Lucky’s back, his snores a steady snerk, snerk, snerk.
Easing over so as not to wake the man, Lucky wrapped an arm around his sleeping lover and drew him close. For a few moments, until the alarm clock sounded, he’d pretend things were back to normal.
Last night the horrors attacked Bo and not Lucky. What a fucked up pair they were.
***
“Bo? You up?” Normally Bo would have beaten Lucky out of bed by a good hour, yet here Lucky was ready for work and his partner hadn’t budged. Damn. He must be exhausted after last night.
Close enough to reach out and touch, and still so far away.
Jacking off in the shower didn’t help much; a hand was no match for a lover. And Lucky waking up with his erection nestled between the cheeks of Bo’s ass sent him running the other way.
Bo grunted and cracked open one eye. “Is it morning already?” At least he’d slept. No morning erection tented the sheets.
So in this, Lucky suffered alone. But if Bo woke up horny too…
Was it wrong to want sex? To need Bo so badly?
Lucky shifted to hide his rising cock. “Yeah. I’m heading to work. I’ll check in with you later. Umm… you got a letter from the SNB. Better see what they want.” The post office forwarded Bo’s mail, but sooner or later he’d have to put in a change of address at work. Let the gossiping begin. Damn, not knowing the contents of the letter ate at Lucky’s innards.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Lucky sat down on the bed. “Are you okay?”
The shimmer in Bo’s eyes cut off any more questions. Plus, the clock ticked off the minutes.
“I can call in. Stay home with you.”
Bo faked a smile that wouldn’t fool anybody. “No, you don’t have to. I’m okay. Go on, and don’t work too hard.” He dropped his gaze.
What? That kind of bull shit came out of asshat Keith’s mouth, not Bo’s. Not the pharmacist who got out of bed at four a.m. to compound meds for sick kids. Not the agent so deep under cover he’d spend a year of 24/7 cracking his case. This man didn’t know what working too hard was. But that’s not what Bo really said, was it?
Don’t get killed today.
What had he said last night? “One minute he was sitting beside me, the next… he died in my arms.”
Millions of ways to die in war. No telling what images plagued Bo’s sleep. Maybe, like in Lucky’s dreams, the dead man wore his lover’s face.
He had to lighten this. “Today’s biggest danger is finger strain. Gotta learn to type faster than seventeen words a minute some year.”
Bo stared at something weird or invisible on the far wall. “Then don’t get finger strain.”
“I won’t.” Lucky pulled Bo to his chest. Too much had gone unsaid between them already to leave this hanging. “I’m real hard to kill. Ain’t you learned that by now?” He dropped a kiss on top of Bo’s head.
“You can’t know that. No one can. Look how close we both came in Mexico.”
If Lucky never heard “Mexico” again, he’d be a happy man. “Say somebody did get me, I’d come back and haunt their sorry asses.”
Bo snorted. “Now that I believe.”
For one long moment nothing happened, then Bo brought his arms up and crushed Lucky in a hug.
With a little squirming, Lucky lay back on the bed, taking Bo with him. No words passed between them. What could either of them say? The possibility of dying on the job ebbed and flowed, but like an unwanted houseguest, never completely went away.
Lucky rose up and eyed the bedside clock. Screw it. Bo came first.
After a while Bo struggled out of Lucky’s embrace. “Go on, you’re gonna be late.”
Running. When he needed someone the most, Bo ran. Or rather, sent Lucky away.
“I can still call in.”
“No. Go. Walter’s probably looking for you already.”
But I’d rather stay here. The determination in Bo’s eyes said “Leave! Now!” Lucky pecked his cheek and did as told for one of the few times in his life.
Muthafucking car fired on the first try. But if it hadn’t Bo would hand Lucky the truck keys and still shove him out the door.
He stopped by Starbucks on his way to the office. “Plain decaf… no thanks, I brought my own stevia. And a decaf green tea…” Fuck. “Just the coffee.”
Get the tea. It’ll give you a reason to go back to the house! But no, Bo had said “Go”.
Lucky shuffled out to the car and sat in the parking lot for a few moments before following the line of cars around the building to the road. Turn left and go home. Turn right and go to work. He turned on his left blinker.
Maybe he needs his space? Lucky turned right.
Was there always so much traffic in the morning? “Hey, asshole! Move that rusted out piece of shit into the slow lane if it won’t go but forty!” Sheesh. Some people. Lucky saluted with his middle finger.
He took a sip of coffee and swerved to keep from getting hit by an ignorant son of a bitch trying to cut him off. “My car is paid for and pretty much totaled as it is. I’ve nothing to lose. So come on over here, you bastard. I’ll merge with you!”
Laying down on the horn made good stress relief. A mile from work he reined in his baser instincts. He’d flipped off a man in a red Corvette once and wound up face to face with the asshole an hour later during a meeting in Walter’s office. Flipping off Walter’s boss hadn’t been one of his finer moments.
“Mr. Smith wants to see you,” the receptionist told him the moment he stepped off the elevator.
How had Bo known?
Lucky strode into his boss’ office and sank into his usual chair. “Mawnin’.” Nothing good about it yet.
Walter’s office door flung open.
Wham!
“What the fuck is this shit?” Bo didn’t even glance Lucky’s way as he stalked across to floor to face off with Walter Smith. He threw a crumpled sheet of paper on the desk.
Bo was mad enough for three, so either he’d taken the carpool lane, teleported, or Lucky’d farted around longer than he thought.
As calm as you please, Walter smoothed out the scrap, never even batting an eye at his most mild-mannered agent storming into this office, cussing up a blue streak. “I believe it’s a job offer from the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau to one William Patrick Schollenberger III. Your probationary period ended earlier this month.”
“What do you mean, auditing? Surveillance? I didn’t spend the last year of my life up to my ass in alligators to come back to a damned desk job!” Whirlwinds didn’t stir up as much dust as Bo’s sprint around the office. “I’m good at what I do!” He spotted Lucky. “Tell him, Lucky! I’m good! I should be out there”—he waved his hand toward the window—“not sitting behind a desk telling a white collar asshole he needs to update his state license!” Spit flew from Bo’s mouth. “I’d understand if I’d screwed up, but I didn’t.”
Every fiber of Lucky being screamed at him to get up, take Bo in his arms, tell him everything would be okay. No, he couldn’t cross the line and prove the point about on-the- job relationships. But if Walter dared to offend the man…
“You’re not being punished, Bo.” Walter’s calm got on Lucky’s nerves. A man’s career hung in the balance, his future. Lucky’s future. “It’s standard procedure to limit undercover assignments to a year for seasoned agents. You’d scarcely finished training. You stayed too deep, too long. If you’d screwed up, as you say, we wouldn’t be offering you a permanent position.”
Bo’s voice took on a note of pleading. “But I can do it, Walter. I can go back out. Stephan Mangiardi—”
“Will soon face Lady Justice.” Walter kept his voice steady, which irritated the fuck out of Lucky. “You’ve done tremendous work for the bureau, and we’re grateful, but the case is out of our hands now.”
Bo ran his fingers through hair he’d never let get so messed up two years ago. “I want him stopped.”
“As do we all. And he will be, I can assure you.”
So quietly Lucky strained to hear, Bo muttered, “I wanted to be the one to stop him.” He locked eyes with Lucky for a moment before shifting his gaze away, tagging Lucky to step into the ring in his defense.
“I’m with Walter on this, Bo. If it makes you feel better, they’ve clipped my wings too, except for small local stings.” Lucky thrived on action, was out of his element in an office. For Bo, who’d tied up so much of himself in his undercover persona, this must be like withdrawals.
Fuck, it wasn’t like withdrawals, it was withdrawals. Bo had grown dependent on the poison Stephan fed him, but his true addiction was Cyrus Cooper. Cyrus Fucking Cooper had an answer for everything, didn’t let shit eat him up inside like Bo did. Time to tell Bo about the house and give him another focus—if Lucky got the chance.
“What if I don’t sign on?”
Lucky’s lungs stopped working.
“That’s your prerogative, but I hope you’ll stay with us. We need you. You’ll have a solid career with the SNB.”
“Just no more undercover.” The guy had never sounded so dejected.
“I never said that, Bo. In six months you’ll be reevaluated as to your readiness to return to the field.”
“It’s only six months,” Lucky assured him. “Christ, are you that eager to put your ass on the line again?” Had he said that out loud?
Bo’s un-Bo-like glower shut Lucky up. More quietly, but not by much, Bo said, “Six months. They’ll have caught Stephan by then.”
“One can hope.” Damn but Lucky wanted to be the one to haul in the bastard.
“What do you think I should do?” Bo turned his full attention to Lucky.
Let me wrap you in cotton and keep you hidden in the house?
For a moment Lucky recoiled. Old habits died hard. They had no secrets from Walter though Bo didn’t know it yet. “I stayed, didn’t I?” But if Bo stayed, he risked getting shot, or worse.
Bo’s slumped against the bookcase, gazing down at the floor. “I told you why I don’t want to go back to the pharmacy.”
Walter better not ask. He didn’t.
Danger on the one hand, Bo leaving Lucky behind on the other. The noble thing to do would be to tell Bo to leave, go find a nice, safe life somewhere. Away from the SNB, away from drug lords, but also, away from Lucky. God, let that not happen. “I think you should stay.” I want you to stay. Fucking need you to stay.
Or Lucky could say, “Screw the house, screw the job,” and go with Bo. If Bo asked.
“You don’t have to decide today,” Walter chimed in.
“I’d like to think about it, please.” Traces of the old Bo shone through the anger.
“Take all the time you need.”
Bo nodded once to Walter and again at Lucky. He left the room and closed the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.
A grueling wait loomed ahead.
***
Lucky lay on the ugly gold couch, staring at the clock on the wall. He’d need to cut out of here in ten minutes if he planned to be waiting in his car for the end of Bo’s appointment, like he’d never left. “My partner is thinking of quitting the SNB.”
Dr. Libby jabbed a finger at her iPad. “And how does that make you feel?”
Lost? Helpless? “Like warmed over shit.” Fucking useless.
“Mr. Harrison, can I ask you something?”
“I reckon.” Whether or not he’d answer was the real question.
“You’ve been coming here for weeks. While I’m impressed by your concern for your partner and your willingness to help him, when are we going to talk about your issues?”
***
Lucky made it back to the car a few seconds before Bo stormed out of the brick building he’d gone into an hour earlier, got in the car, and slammed the door.
“That bad?” Lucky listened for falling car parts.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Funny, Lucky said those same words to Dr. Libby. “Then let’s go home.” He turned the key in the ignition. Click, click, click.
Bo rolled his eyes and gave Lucky a “fuck this shit” glower. “Haven’t you gotten this old rust bucket looked at yet?”
“Hey!”
“Fuck it. Leave it here, we’ll call a cab. Tomorrow you can take my truck and I’ll call a mechanic. Look, since we’ve decided not to get a house, please consider getting a better car.”
We? We decided? News to Lucky. And there wasn’t a thing wrong with the Camaro that a little elbow grease and a few parts couldn’t fix. Lucky opened his mouth, but snapped it shut. Bo had made a decision. He’d thought something out and had spoken up, instead of cruising on autopilot and saying, “Whatever.”
A few minutes under the hood could make the car run, but prove Bo wrong. Lucky called a cab.
***
“Lucky?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you awake?”
“No.” Lucky hid a yawn. “What time is it?”
“Three a.m. I need to ask you something.”
“What?” Waking up for sex? Oh, yeah. Questions requiring functioning brain cells? Not before coffee. “You didn’t have another bad dream, did you?” Lucky rolled over and held out an arm.
Bo crawled closer and took the offered shoulder. “Remember when we were in the tunnel and talked about reconnecting with our families?”
“Yeah.” Not that it’d be easy for Lucky, with everyone but his sister thinking him dead. Nor for Bo if he kept ignoring all calls from Arkansas.
“Thanksgiving’s coming up, and well, my aunt invited us to spend the holiday at her house. My brother will be there with his girlfriend, and my aunt’s boyfriend will be there with his three kids. What do you say?”
So, after the nightmare Bo broke down and talked to his aunt. Yeah, ‘bout time he took Lucky home to meet the family. Meeting family meant Bo planned to keep him around—for a while at least.
But would the rest of the Schollenbergers think him good enough for Bo? Probably not. But it wasn’t their decision to make, was it? “If you want to go, sure, why not?” Plenty of time between now and then to regret his words. If a family visit got Bo out of the house and reconnected with his loved ones, it’d be worth every minute.
Bo found Lucky’s cheek in the dark for a quick kiss. “Thanks.” He squirmed into Lucky’s side.
Tune in next time, folks, when Lucky meets the family!
Ah, hell.