Corruption (19 page)

A moment passed, then two. Lucky held his ground, uncertainty rooting him to the spot. He’d waited months for this moment. Any more clenching and
his heart might burst. Alone, Bo within easy reach, nothing stopping him. Did Bo still want him? The moments ticked away. A few feet in front of him, Bo
waited, arms folded across his chest. His normally expressive features offered no hint of what he might be thinking.

One minute Lucky stood alone, the next, they came together in a flurry of lips, tongues, and roving hands, the tickle of Bo’s moustache and beard
adding an unfamiliar thrill. Oh God! How good to hold the man again. Lucky’s heart double-timed.

“I missed you,” Bo murmured between rounds of reacquainting himself with Lucky’s mouth, sounding more like the Bo Lucky knew
and loved than the criminal Cyrus.

Bo, he’s Bo. I have my Bo back.
“I missed you too.” An ache bloomed in Lucky’s chest for both the lost time and the sweetness of the moment. The scent of
Bo’s cologne filled Lucky’s nostrils, and the strands of his short hair were goose-down soft beneath Lucky’s fingertips.

Lucky dragged the zipper down on Bo’s jacket. Their eyes met and held when Lucky slipped the jacket from Bo’s shoulders. Lucky shrugged
out of his own jacket and tossed it on a workbench to join Bo’s.

With trembling fingers, he rolled Bo’s T-shirt up, skating his fingertips over taut abs while peppering kisses up the man’s pleasure
trail. The bulge in Bo’s jeans matched the cramped swell in Lucky’s own. Still, he took his time. One false move might end things
before they’d properly begun. He re-familiarized himself with the freckles splashed across Bo’s chest, easing the shirt up higher to
expose more skin, welcoming each new revelation with a brush of his lips.

They parted to remove their boots. Snaps popped open, and buckles and loose change jangled to the floor when Bo stripped off his chaps and they both
shimmied from their jeans.

Bo moved to fold the chaps. Lucky stopped him. After too many hours of waiting, time to fulfill a fantasy. “On. I want those on.”
Bo’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline, but after a moment he chuckled and re-zipped and snapped the chaps over bare skin.

Finally, Bo and Lucky stood naked in the garage, except for Bo’s chaps. The dull glow of an overhead bulb painted Bo with shadows and light,
accentuating each dip and curve of his torso. He’d filled out some; hoisting engines and carting around equipment had added mass to his lean
build. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped trimming his chest hair. The sparse yet unruly mass of dark curls tempted Lucky’s finger
to play. The sight of Bo’s fully erect cock framed by black leather turned Lucky’s insides to mush—his legs were none too
steady either. Dropping to his knees and worshipping the uncut length seemed like a good idea. A very good idea.

Lucky knelt, grasping the base and sliding the purplish head between his lips to suck on the tip. Above him, Bo moaned and palmed the back of
Lucky’s head, holding, but not pushing. Yet.

The taste of the man burst on Lucky’s tongue, familiar and new all at the same time. His discomfort from kneeling on concrete faded away. Nothing
mattered anymore but the cock in Lucky’s mouth, and the man gasping so sweetly above him. He ran his hands along the edge of the chaps, where
leather framed Bo’s crotch, following a path of stitched leather to an ample swell of ass. Lucky grabbed a double-handful of firm glutes, using a
little force to encourage Bo closer. He opened wider, taking all he possibly could into his mouth. Oh hell yeah.

Bo bucked and squirmed, panted gasps warning Lucky when to back off, pleading whines telling him when to pick up the pace. How well they fit together,
understood what the other wanted by a mere glance, a moan, a touch.

Bo swayed, brushing his leather-covered leg against Lucky’s cock. Oh damn. Lucky clamped down on the urge to grab a shin and hump until he came.
Deep breaths, in, out. Control. Make the moment last.

He climbed slowly to his feet, anticipation squirming in his belly.

Bo turned and leaned over the still-pinging bike, keeping his legs away from the scalding pipes. Oh dear Lordy in heaven. Bo’s incredible ass
pointed skyward, framed by black leather.

Good thing Lucky came prepared this time. Ramming his hand into the pocket of his discarded jeans, he located the tiny bottle he’d filled last
night just in case. He slicked his fingers and ran them over the tight pucker of Bo’s hole. The dark pink skin glistened from the slickness,
beckoning. Lucky slipped a finger inside. Oh hell, Bo was tight. He reared back against Lucky’s hand. Ah, someone was impatient. A good thing.

One finger became two, and Lucky stroked his free hand down Bo’s back. He took a nip from the firm globe of Bo’s ass cheek. Bo hissed
in response.

Now wasn’t the time to push boundaries or rehash old arguments. Lucky sheathed himself and slipped into welcoming warmth. He gripped
Bo’s hips and gave a series of shallow thrusts. A familiar whimper told him, “Oh, God that feels good.”

He whimpered in kind, intense pleasure robbing him of speech. He braced his hands against Bo’s back, taking care not to topple the bike while he
worked to join them more completely. Months of abstinence and loneliness, gone in a flash. Ah, the sweet union of flesh and the scent of man on man sex.

Their breathing roared in Lucky’s ears in the enclosed space. He pushed in and held. Oh, God. How had he survived without this? He dug his
fingers into Bo’s hips as much to hold himself up as to cling for dear life.

The pinging bike, Bo’s grunts, groans, and garbled, “more”, “harder” and “please”,
the faint traces of man, cologne, sex, leather, and motor oil. Heaven.

Lucky withdrew until only the head of his cock remained buried, then drove back in, angling to peg Bo’s gland. In, out. Letting go of his
self-control, he set a steady rhythm, brain fizzing out and instinct taking over.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Bo chanted. He humped against the bike seat, the play of muscles in his ass and back giving away his actions.
Lucky bent down, trailing kisses up and down Bo’s spine. “I’m gonna come,” Bo choked out.

Lucky gripped him harder, picking up the pace. Bo’s muscles clenched and unintelligible sounds marked his release. He shuddered in
Lucky’s grasp, and Lucky let loose, holding tight and burying himself to the hilt. Liquid warmth filled the condom, fluttery feelings deep within
pulsing. Lucky’s knees weakened, and he arched across Bo’s back to keep from falling down.

“Now I know why that seat looks so supple,” he couldn’t help but jibe. “Come makes a pretty good leather
conditioner, doesn’t it?”

Bo joined him in a laugh, the echo rumbling through his chest and up into Lucky’s ear. “There’s a reason folks call Harleys
the world’s biggest vibrators.”

Once they’d recovered, they gathered up their clothes and made their way to Bo’s bedroom. They lay in bed, Bo’s head on
Lucky’s shoulder.

“How are you, really?” Lucky stroked his fingers over Bo’s ribs.

“Not as good as I’m making out,” Bo replied.

Lucky stayed quiet. Best to let the man speak on his own terms. He didn’t have long to wait.

“In ways, pretending to be someone else helps with some issues, because Cyrus didn’t have my upbringing, though he did have to watch
buddies die in the Marines. Seems Reyes served in the military, and swapping war stories helped me get into his good graces.”

“Go on.” Lucky stopped stroking and pulled Bo tight against his chest.
Reyes
now, not
Mateo
. Good. Bo needed the
distance.

“Since I’m not going to counseling at the moment, the pressure builds. Sometimes I have nightmares about my time in Afghanistan and
about my father. I hear Drew screaming, and I go back to the night I thought the house was burning down.”

Bo’d only been a kid when his daddy had tied him and his brother to their beds and gone out drinking. A neighbor’s house fire had
traumatized both boys, convincing them they were going to die horribly. Man, but the senior Schollenberger’s ass needed kicking.

“I wake up the next morning and have to put my panic aside to play a role. While it works during the day, the anxiety gets me at
night.”

“I’m here now,” Lucky assured him. “As much as I can be without raising suspicion, I will be.”

A pat on the arm gave Bo’s answer, saying thanks more than words could. “The strange part is, the more I’m Cy, the more the
dreams fade. I find myself depending on my alter ego to give me a good night’s sleep.” He nestled more snuggly against
Lucky’s chest. “I mean, I know Cy isn’t real, but at times I find myself seeing him as a separate person that I want to
emulate. At other times, I’m so totally him I forget who Bo is.”

Not good for the lines to blur completely. Or for Bo to grow addicted to his created persona.

“Wanna hear the strange part?”

It gets stranger?
“What?” Lucky braced for the worst.

“I’ve met Cy before, or rather, not
Cy,
but the disassociated part of me playing the role.”

Bo squirmed before resuming his tale. This Lucky had to hear. “I was a different person when I enlisted, cocky, full of myself. Watching a few
buddies die changes a man.” Bo shivered. “Cy is who I might have been if I’d not learned a few valuable lessons on how
precious life is.”

While Lucky would gladly spare the man the past pain, he couldn’t help but be grateful for how Bo turned out.

Bo continued, “As Ricky, I see you as you might have been if you’d never met Victor Mangiardi. Oh, you still have a bit of sarcasm, but
you’re less sure of yourself, more willing to listen.”

He was?

“Aren’t we a fucked up pair? With no idea who we really are?”

Oh shit. Now Bo sounded depressed. A change of subject might do them both good and pull Bo out of the dark spot in his head where he sometimes disappeared.
Besides, Lucky didn’t want to dwell on the
less sure of yourself
observation, a product of O’Donaghue’s lectures,
which added to the new situation he found himself in. “Have you met anyone else besides Reyes and the guys from tonight?”

“Just Cruiser members. He trusts me, but not enough to talk about his supplier. You know pretty much what I do. The goods arrive in about five
vehicles that get rotated. He’d hired a trucker who made a few trips up from Texas and then disappeared. I never even knew his name or what
happened to him, and none of our guys handle a rig worth a damn. I’ve been looking for a replacement for a while, laying the groundwork in case
Walter sent you.”

Being out of touch with the department, Bo might not know what they’d turned up on their end of the investigation. “No one else has
managed any better. Searching turns up nothing, and any attempts at tracking the trucks ends at the border. Whoever we’re dealing with has a nice
little assortment of trackers in a barn somewhere, and surveillance cameras can’t get a good image.” Victor had taught Lucky to perform
periodic sweeps on cargo to minimize tracking. However, trackers were more sophisticated now, and so were criminals. He’d take the camera issues
up with Keith the next time he reported to the office. “What’s Reyes like?”

“Quiet. He rides his Harley, works in his shop, sends money home to his mother. He’s got to be loaded, but he lives in a cheap
apartment and, other than his bike, doesn’t seem to spend much money on himself, though I’ve seen him carry over twenty thousand
dollars at a time. Each truck returned to Texas takes back more cash than I ever imagined seeing in one place. He claims to come from a small village in
Mexico, but he builds vehicle traps you wouldn’t believe.”

Back in Lucky’s day, Victor paid top dollar for body work. Even without the smuggling, in all likelihood Reyes’ mother lived like a queen.

“It looks like you got a nice setup for yourself,” Lucky said.

“Getting close to the man was tough. Took a full month for him to trust me after he hired me on at the garage, and he pitted me against his men.
I literally had to fight my way to the top. Thanks for the boxing lesson, by the way. I’ve quoted your ‘I’m the
best’ speech on more than one occasion. Then when Jack died, leaving his position up for grabs, I took advantage. Laid a few guys out
too.”

So, the kid’s tales were true. Bo actually had kicked ass to gain position.

“Once Reyes makes up his mind about a person, he doesn’t look back, though he keeps an eye on me. It’s hard to hide a biker
wearing colors, and I’ve been followed a few times.”

“How about relationships? Anyone else he’s close to?”

“I’ve seen him out with women, but they’re never at his apartment when I’m there. The one time a girlfriend showed
up at the shop, he yelled at her in Spanish until she went away. I have a feeling he uses them and doesn’t want them hanging around.”
Bo let out a yawn. “The only pictures on the walls of his apartment are of his mother and sisters. He’s a real lone-wolf type.
I’m surprised he tolerates me, since he doesn’t seem to have any other friends.”

Friends. Uh-oh. “And you’re his friend now?”

“No,” Bo replied. “Cyrus is. Cy can stand toe to toe with the guy and not flinch. Personally, he scares me. Sometimes he gets
creepy quiet, like he’s listening to my thoughts. I’ve watched him call the guys out on things and wonder how he knows.”

“The women he sleeps with might be sleeping with his men too.” Victor certainly had no qualms about planting spies in a
rival’s bed. He’d never asked that of Lucky, but he’d asked it of others.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“What about the kid? He’s got a bad case of hero worship going on.”

Bo’s chuckle reverberated through his chest. “He’s not a bad kid. He’s never had a positive role model in his life,
no one to look up to. He fell in with the wrong crowd. Besides, the little booger reminds me of my brother Drew. ”

Lucky squinted down at Bo, who peered up through his lashes. “I know, Lucky. You’re going to tell me not to get too close and remind me
that the guy could face serious charges when all this is over, but I can’t seem to convince him to get out without raising suspicions.”