Diversion 2 - Collusion (18 page)

“Yeah, baby, like that.” Lucky lay on his back, Bo rising and falling above him. Tight heat squeezed Lucky’s cock.
Bo’s chaps creaked and groaned as Lucky thrust up into him. Bo reached out, slapping Lucky’s cheek.
Lucky grinned. “Oh, you like the rough stuff do you? I learn something new about you every day.”
Bo grabbed him by the shoulder, giving him a good hard shake.
“Oh my God!” he shouted. “Are you okay?”
What the hell?
“I found him near the falls. Yeah. It’s him.” Why was Bo speaking into a two-way radio during sex? Why did he sound far away? And why did Bo sound like someone else?
More buzzing. Lucky swatted at a pair of hands attempting to lift his eyelids. “Go ’way,” he muttered. “Sleepy.”
Something swatted back. “Lucky? Can you hear me? Damn it, Lucky! Talk to me.”
Lucky’s snapped his eyes open, an upside-down face coming into view. “Bo?” Bo! Lucky tried to grab the man, but flopped back down with an “Oooomph!”
Ow!
Bo righted himself, scuttling around to look at Lucky full on. His mouth turned up at the corners, then down again. Then twitched, like he couldn’t make up his mind whether to laugh or cry. “Lucky, thank God!” He crouched closer, arms outstretched, but stopped short. Another man stood off to the side, shouting out coordinates into a squawking radio—the voice Lucky’d heard earlier. “I want so bad to hug you right now,” Bo murmured.
“I stink.”
“I don’t care.”
“I hurt.”
“Where’s a good spot to hold?”
Lucky raised his right hand. Bo grasped on and squeezed. Even with a witness, Lucky wouldn’t have turned down a hug if he weren’t so disgusting. And sore. At least it looked like he might not be alone when he got back to Atlanta.
“I worried you were dead,” Bo said. “We all did, until I got a call. How bad are you hurt?”
So Annie came through, huh? Even felons kept their promises sometimes. Through a mouthful of stale cotton, Lucky choked out, “Left ankle and foot are broken. A few cuts and scrapes. Maybe a concussion.”
The other rider approached and dropped down beside Lucky and Bo. “Do you mind if I examine you?”
I’d rather be examined by Bo,
Lucky nearly said, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I reckon,” he replied, only after Bo prodded him.
“Simon, this is Russell, a certified first responder. Russell, meet Simon.”
Russell nodded and grunted, roving his eyes and hands over Lucky’s body. He paused to study Lucky’s scraped forearms before moving down to the injured leg. Lucky winced when the guy’s hand pressed against his side, adding bruised ribs to his mental inventory of hurts. “Sorry, ’bout that,” Russell said.
“Exactly what happened?” Bo asked.
Lucky shrugged as far as his awkward position let him. “How much did Walter tell you? I’m too tired to rehash old news.”
“A kid from receiving wanted to show you something. He took you to an abandoned building and picked up a case containing what looks like the same vials from the center. They’re being tested. That’s about it.”
“Sammy met some folks at the old mill. They left, I went to have myself a little looksee and got ambushed by the local PTO.” Russell lifted his foot. “Yahhh!” Dear Lord God! That fucking hurt!
“Sorry!”
Lucky tightened his grip on Bo’s hand, using pain as an excuse for contact.
Bo lifted Lucky’s head, resting it on his thigh. “Better?”
“Yeah.” Not much warmth soaked through Bo’s riding attire, but Lucky breathed deep of cologne, sweat and man. The claws in his foot stopped clawing.
“Now, what were you saying about PTO? As in parent-teacher organization?”
Fingers sweeping across Lucky’s brow chased back the headache. “Beats anything I ever stumbled into before. If I had to guess, I’d swear they were regular folk, not drug dealers. I know they come in all shapes and sizes, and can’t be profiled, but they didn’t want to hurt me and the woman seemed truly upset when I told them kids died.”
“Didn’t want to hurt you? Have you seen yourself?”
A blush required too much effort. “I’ll tell you ’bout that later. Anyhow, they dumped me here to keep me out of the way while they made a break for it. Did Walter find out anything more about the van owner’s connection?”
“I haven’t talked to him since this morning. If he did he didn’t mention it to me.”
Another fourwheeler pulled up. “You boys find him?”
Russell called out, “Yeah. We got it,” rising to approach the new arrival.
Ignoring the medic now quietly murmuring a few feet away, Lucky told Bo, “Not that I’m not happy as hell to see you, but what’re you doin’ here? I though you went back to Atlanta.”
“Walter recalled us as backup when your escort didn’t report in. You know I’m a hiker, right? Well, I’m signed up with Appalachian Search and Rescue. When I got a phone call, I alerted Walter and the group. Since I had a location, a few of us started with the road. We’ve got several groups on foot with bloodhounds.” He jerked his head toward the man. “Russell found you and called us in.”
The four-wheeler pulled away and Russell darted to his own to retrieve a first aid kit. Bag in hand, he returned to hunker down on the ground. “What do you need?” he asked.
Lucky wanted to say,
For you to leave me alone with Bo for a minute,
but he held his tongue.
“Got any water?” he asked instead.
“I do.” Bo answered, unclipping a tube from his shoulder. He lowered the end to Lucky’s mouth. “Bite and suck.” The other end of the tube disappeared into Bo’s backpack.
I’d rather suck something else,
Lucky bit back, his heart not quite in his intended kidding. Tired. So tired. He allowed Bo to raise his shoulders while chomping the end of the tube and taking a tentative suck. The sweet taste of water flooded his mouth.
Bo laid him back down, but after a moment he motioned for the tube and Bo handed it over. Water never tasted so good.
Bo busied himself with the first aid kit, cleaning a nasty cut on Lucky’s forearm, while the first responder wrapped his foot. “I’m splinting to keep it stable, for anything else you’ll need the pros. I might domore harm than good.”
Together Bo and Russell managed to wrangle Lucky into a spare jacket and onto the back of Bo’s four-wheeler for a jolting, shuddery trek down the mountain. Wrapped tightly around Bo, squeezing when the bumps shook his leg, Lucky might’ve enjoyed the ride under different circumstances.
Russell shot ahead, out of sight, and Bo stopped his vehicle. He twisted around on the seat to better see Lucky. “Are you all right? Do you need to rest a minute? The ride’s gotta be killing you. I…” He killed the engine and slammed his mouth down hard on Lucky’s, delivering a kiss that bordered on violence. The whole time his fingers kept moving over Lucky’s head, neck, shoulders, as though he feared Lucky might suddenly vanish.
Lucky,
Mmmmphhhhed
through the pain of cracked lips. When Bo finally let go, he said, “I thought I’d lost you. Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”
Gazes locked, Lucky told the honest to God truth. “I work for Walter.” Not the SNB, but Walter. “I can’t promise you I won’t be late to dinner sometimes, and you won’t know where I am. And I can’t promise that one day you won’t be called upon to pack my desk up, ’cause I won’t be back.”
Neither said anything for a few moments, they sat staring into each other’s eyes.
“You may have to do the same for me some day,” Bo whispered. He started up the four-wheeler before Lucky could answer.
A million scenarios played out in Lucky’s head—a pharmacy hold-up, a crash during a high-speed chase, a gun-toting junkie resisting arrest—all ending with a very dead Bo. It wouldn’t always be tearful parents with picket signs. A painful ankle couldn’t compete with the jolt through Lucky’s heart. Why the hell did Bo have to bring up the very real prospect of dying in the line of duty? Until that moment, Lucky’d believed only he was at risk.
He held a little tighter as they approached the flashing lights of an ambulance.

Flat on his back —again—and no Bo hovering above to make it worth his while. Lucky gazed down at his poor, abused leg, now covered by a light blue cast. His toes peeked out the very end. Huge neon letters declared, “Keith was here!” along with a smaller, more subdued, “Get well soon—Walter.” No “Bo was here,” mainly because Bo hadn’t been there, not that Lucky knew of. Of course, Lucky hadn’t been there all the time either, having spent much of the first day in la-la land, courtesy of drugs that apparently weren’t in short supply. Nope, not at all. Press the nurse call button, yell “Ow!,” and get a shot. Pretty efficient system. And all he had to do was break his ankle bad enough to need a pin. And surgery.

Walter sat at Lucky’s bedside. They really had to stop meeting like this. “Glad I don’t have to attend another one of your funerals. I must say I like you much better among the living.” While normally a visit from Walter wasn’t cause for celebration, Lucky welcomed the Starbucks cup firmly clinched in the big man’s paw. “You have more lives than the average tabby cat.”

Lucky held up a finger in a “wait a minute” gestu re. He swigged down half the cup of coffee, rescuing the brew from a horrible fate—getting cold. “Actually, I got off pretty light.”

“Yes, and Bo’s been telling some rather thrilling tales of how you broke your foot, each one more fantastic than the last.”
He had? Maybe he had come by. Several flower arrangements sat on a table near the bed, shorter vases in front, taller in the back, bows all facing forward. Yup, he’d been by.
“Mind filling me in on the truth, to keep me from worrying about the alien encounter rumor? I must say some of your coworkers are quite gullible, and while Bo can’t out and out lie about important things to save his life, he’s very gifted at pulling their legs.”
Lucky damped down pride. After all, Walter had entrusted him with Bo’s training, right? The rookie learned from a master. “Any story he’s telling is bound to be better than the truth. I wallowed around in bat shit and jumped out of a window.”
Without batting an eye, Walter replied, “While I’ve always encouraged hobbies, Lucky, I’d rather hoped you’d take up golfing. Are you serious, or did I lose the betting pool?”
“To tell the truth, I wish I was lying. But I saw a chance to get away, created a diversion with a bunch of bats, and dove for the window, counting on a kudzu vine tobreak my fall. I missed.” Damned shortassed arms. Not that he’d tell Bo.
Walter sat stony-faced for a moment before throwing his head back in laughter. His entire body shook, and he raised a finger to his eye, wiping away a tear. “I’m sorry, Lucky, I don’t actually find that funny. Well, yes I do, but it’s amazingly close to a story Bo told about magic beans and a castle in the clouds.”
Lucky rolled his eyes. Walter’s sense of humor would be the death of him someday. “Well, I did meet a giant, bigger than you even.”
“We tracked the van. The owner hasn’t been seen in days, according to his neighbors. We still have no leads on the woman. Have you thought of anything else useful?”
“Only that she seemed upset when I told her kids died. That doesn’t mean anything. You’d get the same reaction from my sister. What have you found out on the vials?”
“The label is of Chinese origin, though no manufacturer is listed, which makes tracing back to the source difficult.”
Fuck. Lucky’d been afraid of that. “In the meantime they’re still cranking out poison.”
“I’m afraid so. The lab results came back for paclitaxel, a chemotherapy drug, which matches the label. Normally the raw drug is bound to a variety of delivery agents, in most cases, ethanol or albumin.”
“But not in this case.”
“No. I’m usually thrilled when a team member guesses correctly. I’ll make an exception this time. According to the label, the product contains glycerin. According to the lab, it contains diethylene glycol.”
“Shit.” While he trusted Bo, Lucky’d hoped the man had been wrong this time.
“I’m inclined to agree with you, Lucky. However, that’s not the worst of it.”
“No?” He didn’t want to know, he really didn’t.
Walter told him anyway. “Two more patients died.”

Bo poked his head in the do or promptly at three o’clock. “You ready to go?”
Lucky sat in a wheelchair, casted foot propped up in front of him. He wore a slipper on the other, and a T-shirt and pajama pants, courtesy of Walter’s missus.
Crap, I’m turning into Mrs. Griggs.
“While I appreciate you coming to get me, shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Actually, Walter asked me to make sure you got home.”
“He did?”
Okay, Walter, why not just come out and say you know about us?
“Yes, he did. Now mind if we get a move on? I’m double- parked out front. Let me go get some help.” Bo disappeared out the door, returning a few minutes later with a hospital orderly. The orderly pushed Lucky while Bo wheeled a cart loaded with flowers, a goodie bag from the hospital, a pair of crutches, and Lucky’s shoes. With any luck a thoughtful nurse had burned his clothing.
They rode down the elevator, Lucky’s heart constricting when they stopped on the third floor to pick up a passenger, before realizing,
different hospital.
He started with “Dear God,” and silently stumbled over a prayer for Stephanie. He ended with “Amen.”
At the front door Bo abandoned the cart. “I gotta go get the truck.”
Lucky scowled. “You said you were double-parked.”
“We’d still be arguing up in your room if I hadn’t lit a fire under you.”
Damn. Bo really is getting better at lying.
Bo brought his Durango around. A little pushing, pulling, and a few muttered oaths later saw Lucky strapped into the passenger seat. Bo tucked Lucky’s bag, shoes, flowers, and crutches in the backseat.
“Made any progress on the case?” Lucky asked. Three damned days he’d been out of the loop, three damned days too many.
“Not much. Mostly I’ve been working with the Feds. Walter wants you to stay out of the office until next week.”
“I’m going back tomorrow.” Lucky had questions. The office had answers.
“I brought your laptop. Can’t you work from home?”
Home. Lying down, doing nothing, too much time to think? Or office, neck deep in paperwork, but access to details of their case? “I’ll give it some thought.”
They arrived at Lucky’s duplex. Bo bounded around the hood to open the passenger door.
“Oh! A gentleman!” Mrs. Griggs gushed. A solid black cat sprawled across her lap and a gray and black kitten licked a paw beside her on the swing. Two more felines lay at her feet. What did she plan on doing, collecting every cat in the neighborhood?
“Hey, Mrs. Griggs!” Bo called, waving at the woman wearing a bathrobe at four o’clock in the afternoon. To Lucky he said, “Give me your keys.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Give me your keys.”
“Why?”
Bo extended his hand. “Now, please. Unless you’d like to haul everything in by yourself.”
Lucky handed over his keys. Bo settled him on crutches before trotting to the front door, arms loaded. He returned two more times, for the remaining flowers and a grocery sack, all while Lucky worked on getting the crutches to move the way he wanted them to.
Bo appeared at his elbow the moment he reached the front steps. “I’m not helpless,” Lucky barked, immediately wishing he hadn’t. One crutch hurt his underarm where he’d rubbed it raw in the woods with his improvised tree branch support.
“I’m not helping you. I’m helping the neighborhood by getting your ill ass inside the house, so you won’t be their problem anymore.”
Once inside, Lucky aimed his lopsided gait toward the couch. Bo steered him toward the bedroom. “I’m not bedridden,” Lucky snarled.
“You need your rest,” Bo replied, applying a bit more pressure to the guiding hand on Lucky’s back.
“I’m not dying.” He’d already lost too much time lying in the hospital. And, damn it, he had work to do. The trail grew colder with each passing minute.
“You should take it easy.”
“I’ve been taking it easy!” Lucky splayed his crutches, digging in and holding his position. The only way he’d agree to a bed is if Bo intended tojoin him, and being seen as an invalid didn’t bode well for wild, reunion sex.
Bo grinned. “I won’t blow you if you’re sitting on the couch.”
Damn but Bo fought dirty! “Lead on.”
The Dimple appeared in Bo’s cheek. “I figured you’d see things my way.” He made a great show of settling Lucky on the bed. “Why don’t you take a nap while I fix supper?”
“Um…I believe you promised me a blow job.”
“Food first, dessert later.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“Not saying you are. Now here, lift up your arms so I can get this shirt off you.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Bo tapped Lucky’s arm. “Up.”
“Jeez, man! Beat up on the invalid, why don’t you?” Lucky scowled, but raised his arms when Bo out-scowled him. The shirt slipped over his head. Hmm…not too bad. He held up his foot. “Slipper?”
Plop!
The slipper hit the floor. “Pants?”
A bit of maneuvering, a few false starts, and much grunting and groaning later, they’d worked the thin, cotton pants over Lucky’s cast.
Lucky waggled his brows. “Boxers?”
Bo’s pushed him down on the bed. “Nice try. You rest, I’ll make food.” He brushed his lips against Lucky’s forehead and retreated.
“A blow job might help me sleep!” Lucky shouted through the closed door. He twiddled his thumbs. He glowered at his cast. He counted the spines on the dragon statue’s back where it sat in his nightstand—twenty-seven. Still no Bo. His eyelids drooped. Maybe he’d close them for a minute. Didn’t mean he’d suddenly become obedient or anything.
Bo woke him some time later. “Sit up. Time to eat.” Something smelled delicious. Lucky glanced from the plate in Bo’s hand up to a pointed chin, high cheekbones, The Dimple, and warm regard in a pair of eyes darkened to ebony in the soft glow of the beside lamp. Hmmm… something looked delicious, too, and it wasn’t the food.
“What you got there?” Lucky struggled into a sitting position while discreetly adjusting his very interested erection. Was it kinky that Bo’s cooking excited him nearly as much as the sight of the man’s bubble-butt?
Bo’s upper lip curled. “Feel honored. For you I cooked chicken.” He spread a towel over Lucky’s lap, ignoring the bulge there. “I also dumped the contents of your fridge into the trash. Anything remotely edible wasn’t good for you. The rest looked like some high school junior’s science project.”
Lucky drew back in mock horror. “You threw out Herbie and Fred?”
A wrinkle appeared between Bo’s brows. “Who the hell are Herbie and Fred?”
“My plants.”
“Oh, the rotten onion and sprouted potato? I planted them in the backyard beforewe ever left for Anderson.”
Lucky stared hard. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if Bo was joking or serious. Somewhere over the last few months, Bo had lost some of his innocent demeanor. Lucky hesitated, wondering if Bo’s sass was a good thing or a bad thing. The scent of roasted chicken breast distracted him. His mouth watered.
Bo placed a glass of sweet tea on the nightstand and darted from the room, returning a moment later with a glass of water and another plate. He sat in a chair by the bed, placing his water next to Lucky’s tea. “Need help?”
With a hostile glare Lucky dared Bo to offer to cut his chicken for him. “Oh!” He chewed a bite, trying to identify the spices used. Damn, that was good. So good he almost didn’t mind the steamed broccoli the chicken shared a plate with. Green things belonged in flowerpots or in gardens, not on plates. He saved the broccoli for last.
“If you dare say, ‘There’s something green on my plate, get it off’ again, I’m gonna whap you,” Bo said, eyes focused on his own dinner of broccoli, steamed rice, and what might have been tofu, Lucky couldn’t say. His mind refused to wrap around someone actually choosing the tasteless cubes over tasty chicken. Or bacon. Damn but he missed real, came-from-apig bacon, or “cancer in a handy onepound package,” as Bo called it. Lucky avoided lectures by agreeing. However, he also avoided bacon when Bo wasn’t around, on the off chance that someone who’d undergone years of medical training might be right.
After forcing himself to down the broccoli, saving time by not chewing, Lucky loosed a belch worthy of wresting “Best Belch” honors from Charlotte in one of the contests he used to hold with his siblings. “That was good,” he said, clanging his fork down on his plate.
One side of Bo’s mouth turned up. He handed Lucky the TV remote and took the plates out of the room. A few minutes later Lucky heard water running in the kitchen sink. He didn’t feel much like watching TV, but he’d missed a few episodes of his favorite soap opera. After a bit of fumbling he pulled up a recorded episode of
South Bend Springs
. Bo returned a few minutes later, easing down on the bed beside him.
“Lila’s pregnant again. They did a paternity test.” He flashed Lucky a wicked grin.
“If you tell me who the father is, I swear to God I’ll—”
“Just for that I won’t tell you it’s—”
“Bo!” Lucky lunged as much as his cast let him.
The episode ended and Bo hopped from the bed, strolled over to the television, and turned it off. “You need rest.”
“No, I don’t. I just took a nap not too long ago.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No. I. Don’t.”
“If I blow you will you go to sleep?”
“Maybe.”
Bo snorted. “Has it ever occurred to you that you might not be the only one wanting to get reacquainted? And that rest equals healing faster which equals less time until wild monkey sex?”
Lucky tossed the remote to the floor. “TV can wait.”
“I thought you’d see it my way.”
Lucky shifted, trying to get comfortable. Bo pulled the covers down. “Damn, I missed you,” he murmured, running his hands gently over the healing bruises on Lucky’s body.
Not as much as I missed you.
It suddenly occurred to Lucky how he’d fantasized this very thing, Bo taking care of him, the night he’d spent in the woods. And here he was being an ass about it.
I can’t change who I am.
Bo framed Lucky’s face with his hands, lifting Lucky’s head to skim their lips together. He planted a kiss on Lucky’s forehead, on each eyelid, nose, and cheeks, bypassing a healing gash and the goose egg knot left by a tree branch. With light nibbles he tickled Lucky’s chin. Down Lucky’s neck Bo traveled, licking, nibbling, and sucking a path from neck to ear. He ran his tongue around the shell, briefly darting it inside.
Bo tongued downward, reacquainting his mouth with Lucky’s chest, seemingly determined to lick every bit of skin at his disposal. Lucky gasped when his lover’s lips sealed over his nipple.
Fingers combing through Bo’s hair, Lucky moaned his appreciation while applying pressure, urging Bo down. His cock strained against the fabric of his boxers, a damp spot forming in the cotton.
There! I need you there!
Bo sank lower and lower, teasing Lucky by bypassing the goods to run his tongue under the leg of Lucky’s boxers, licking as much of Lucky’s crotch as possible before the fabric got in the way. He grinned evilly and pulled Lucky’s balls through the opening in the garment. First one, then the other, he took into his mouth, caressing them with his tongue.
Hip rolling on Lucky’s part and tugging on Bo’s got his boxers off.
Finally!
Bo swiped his tongue up Lucky’s shaft, coaxing Lucky’s rising erection to full life. He whirled around the glans before following a bulging vein to the root with his tongue tip, and proceeded to rain openedmouthed kisses up and down Lucky’s shaft.
A little more. Just a little more.
Bo chuckled and withdrew.
Wha…What? No! Not now! Come back!
“Tease!” Lucky ground out from between gritted teeth.
“Good things come to those who wait,” Bo quoted.
“If you say so.” Lucky bucked again. Bo shrank back again.
Fingers pressed firmly at the base of Lucky’s balls, Bo began sucking in earnest, taking Lucky into his mouth and enthusiastically gliding up and down.
Oh yeah, baby, that’s it!
Lucky moaned, twisting wads of blanket in his fists.
Fully clothed still, Bo wriggled against the mattress, humping the bed while he sucked Lucky. Damn that was sexy. Lucky would love to help the guy out, but couldn’t bring himself to move. “Oh yeah, baby, that’s it.” He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the headboard.
The pressure began deep within, building, building.
Oh fuck! Oh fuck!
The pressure exploded, internal spasms pulsing. Electric currents fired though him, curling his toes and tightening his grip on the sheets. He let go into Bo’s mouth. Wave after wave after wave of ecstasy rolled over him, around him, through him. “Ahhhh…!” His back arched off the bed.
Bo latched on to Lucky’s hips, holding him down, taking everything Lucky gave. When at last Lucky shuddered one last time and relaxed back on the bed, Bo jumped up and unzipped his fly to free himself. Eyes slightly unfocused and face a mask of twisted concentration, he stroked his length with reckless abandon. He threw his head back, eyes scrunched tightly shut. “Oh fuck,” he muttered.
“Thought you’d never ask.” Lucky reached out and clutched a firm ass cheek, hauling Bo closer and taking the man’s straining erection into his mouth. The scent of male musk rekindled his own spent lust.
Bo thrust frantically into Lucky’s mouth. “I’m close! Ah, ah, ah!” His fingers clamped down on Lucky’s shoulders, spurt after spurt falling on Lucky’s tongue.
Once he stopped trembling, Bo crawled over Lucky and collapsed on the bed, breathless and glassyeyed. “Damn.”
Lucky couldn’t have said it better himself.
Trailing his fingertips lightly through the hair onLucky’s chest, Bo placed a kiss on one shoulder. “You have no idea how much I missed you,” he said.
In the woods. Alone. Fearing he’d never see Bo again, all came roaring back on Lucky. The remorse, the things he wished he’d said but hadn’t. He struggled for the words to convey all he needed to, but they wouldn’t come. He only managed, “Yeah, I missed you, too,” and wrapped an arm around Bo’s shoulders. Clinging in near desperation, he willed Bo to understand, to feel, to somehow
know
what Lucky couldn’t say.
Bo snuggled into the embrace, wafting out a contentedsounding sigh. The warm breath grazed Lucky’s skin. They lay together, the occasional rumble of a passing car the only sounds.
A tentative “Want me to stay?” came out half muffled by Lucky’s chest against Bo’s face.
“Yes,” Lucky replied, pulling Bo closer. Tonight. Always.
Whoa, where the hell did that come from?