Redemption (25 page)

What the fuck? “You do? Why didn’t you tell me?” And what about the landlady who never left her front porch? “What about Mrs. Griggs? And why didn’t my tail stop them?”

Walter sighed. “The agent monitoring you grew careless. During an altercation in the backyard with your rather ferocious landlady, the dash cam in his vehicle recorded your abduction. The video wasn’t discovered until the next day. The resulting search turned up the perpetrators’ car at a rest stop in Alabama. We felt it wouldn’t help you to know this information.”

“What the fuck?” What kind of game was Walter playing?

“So, yes, we have proof.” Walter glared at Gray Hair.

Gray Hair didn’t even flinch. “Was Schollenberger taken against his will, or did he go on his own?”

“He went to Mexico to forward his case.” Lucky fought back a growl.

“The Southeastern Narcotics Bureau has no jurisdiction in Mexico. Why then, did an agent travel to another country when he had no official capacity to do so?”

Like hell were they going to discredit Bo. Lucky opened his mouth. Walter beat him to the punch. “He’d been left in place in case the drug supplier tried to rebuild the pipeline we’d just taken down. He was following orders. My orders.”

Gray Hair rounded on Walter. “Did you order him into Mexico?”

Walter stared straight ahead. “No, I did not.”

“Why didn’t he contact you, his case agent? Why did he go to Mexico without advance notice? Mr. Smith, you’ve already told us you lost contact with Schollenberger.”

“During my last communication with him he reported that he was on his way to meet the supplier, but that was all.” Walter sat up to his full formidable height.

“They took his phone. He had no choice.” Lucky jumped to his feet, sloshing coffee onto his hand, and shot an eyeful of hate at the attorney. “Walter, tell him! We do whatever it takes to forward our case. If it’s not safe to check in, we don’t. Bo’s a good agent and he did his job. Nothing more.”

“I have no doubt you take him at his word, Agent Harrison, but you’re biased. You’re living with the man, and Mangiardi has presented the two of you as sharing an intimate relationship. The defense will say Schollenberger’s a drug addict who willingly went to Mexico to work for Mangiardi. That until you showed up, he’d no intention of returning to the US. He loved the money, he loved the action, loved the drugs.”

Bands tightened across Lucky’s chest. “No. That’s not Bo!”

“How well do you know your partner?”

“We’ve been together for over two years. We know each other pretty well, I’d say.”

“Are you aware that he lost his pharmacist license for failure to pass a drug test?”

“Yes.” Bo had spilled all his dirty little secrets during the early stages of their relationship.

“Were you aware that he faced charges of pilfering controlled substances at his former place of employment?”

“Yes.” Lucky lifted his chin. Did they think Bo hid something like that?

“Did he tell you officers were called to his residence for a domestic violence complaint, but his partner refused to press charges?”

Whoa. “I knew about the incident. Bo didn’t mention cops. I know all this, and I’m getting sick and tired of you trying to drag him through the mud.”

The lawyer’s scowl turned evil. “Is it true you were Victor Mangiardi’s business partner and lover and met Stephan Mangiardi in that capacity?”

“All that’s in my record. I’ve never hid it. But my past has never gotten in the way of my job. Tell him, boss!”

Walter’s thin lips and downturned eyes formed ice water in Lucky’s veins. “Lucky, Stephan Mangiardi is trying to discredit Bo and exclude you as a witness. If the defense finds reasonable doubt of his character, it will affect not only the outcome of Stephan’s trial, but all Bo’s other cases. If Doctor Ryerson’s attorneys find out about this, they’ll call for an acquittal, as will others.”

“Walter! You know Bo’s not a junkie!”

Gray Hair kept on twisting the knife. “Yet, on numerous occasions in the past few months, Schollenberger tested positive for narcotics, as he did when he checked into the hospital in Texas for an overdose.”

Lucky lost the fight to keep his voice down. The nerve of this asshole. “He was drugged!”

“I’ll not have you badgering my agents.” Walter keeping his voice low didn’t mask the threat.

The attorney dropped his arm off the desk and turned around in his chair, facing Walter. “The questions I’m posing are nothing compared to what the defense will ask during trial.” Gray Hair pulled Lucky’s attention away from Walter. “Did he or did he not recently complete six weeks in a rehabilitation clinic?”

“He did, but…”

For the first time the man dropped his courtroom attorney presence. “Agent Harrison, we’ll do everything we can to keep them from calling Schollenberger to the witness stand, but if they do, it’s not going to help our case.”

Lucky lowered his hackles. “What about Cruz?”

Walter’s sympathetic gaze might as well have been a hangman’s noose. Cruz wouldn’t risk his own interests, whatever they were, to help Bo. Cruz once called Lucky “brother”.
Brother my ass!

Lucky sat his coffee on Walter’s desk before he crushed the cup in his hands. “A man, an agent, put his life on the line, gave the case his all, and now you’re gonna let him twist in the wind.”

“He’s undergoing treatment for drug dependence. The evidence speaks for itself.”

“PTSD.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s being treated for PTSD. Not drug dependence. Not anymore. Anyway, we’re taught to do what it takes. And he did. It was put up or shut up time, and he put up.” Lucky crossed to the window and stared out at the setting sun. Soon, in a restaurant across town, most of his coworkers would drink and exchange cheap gifts.

Better to be there than here.

“The defense will exploit any weakness to the fullest. It won’t help our case.”

Picking up a big-assed book off the bookcase and slamming the bastard across the face wouldn’t help the case either. Might make Lucky feel better—for a while. “What you’re saying is that we’re screwed.”

“Jurors read newspapers, and lately those papers have been filled with stories of agents and police officers behaving badly. It will be easy for his attorneys to cast doubt about our key witnesses, and easy to sell corruption to the jury.”

“Witnesses” not “witness”, so Lucky too. “What about the customers?”

“You mean the prominent, upright Texas citizens?”

Whose side was this guy on anyway? “How about Vincent Mangiardi’s body?”

“No body has been found.”

“What? What about the pictures from Bo’s phone? Huh? What about the recording where Stephan said he killed his father?”

Lucky made it a habit not to need people, but right now he’d welcome a knight in shining armor. What choices were left when a wolf had him by the throat?

He needed bigger damned wolf.

Nestor had mentioned a memorial service, and he’d called Lucky’s personal phone. Time to redial and take his chances. “I need to talk to Nestor Sauceda.” He whipped out his phone, scrolled through his call log, and hit “dial” for the strange number with no name.

“The number you have dialed has been disconnected…”

***

Lucky toyed with his cup of cold coffee. Hard to force a drink into a squirming snake pit of a stomach. At least the suits all left.

Sundown had come and gone. “We’re screwed aren’t we, boss?”

“No. We’re just trying to prepare for what you’ll face on the witness stand if you testify against Stephan.”

“You mean the shit storm? And what’s this
if
stuff? Of course I’m going to testify. The asshole has a lot to answer for.”

Walter reached behind his glasses to wipe his eyes. “Even if it leads to a mistrial?”

“It won’t. One way or another, he’s going down.” If Lucky wouldn’t have to clean up the mess, he’d sling his coffee cup across Walter’s office.

“Go home. Get some rest.” Walter rose from his chair and yawned.

“Like that’s gonna happen with all I’ve got on my mind.”

Walter shuffled around the desk and clapped Lucky on the shoulder. “I’ll do whatever I can for you. If there’s another way, I won’t put you or Bo on the stand.”

Stephan had them by the balls and the asshole planned to twist.

“Thanks, boss. You go on home to your wife. I wanna sit here for a moment. Turn the light out, please.” Things were getting bad if Lucky resorted to politeness.

“Are you going to be all right?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. I’ll be on vacation until Monday, but if you need me, call.”

Lucky grunted an answer.

“This might be an odd thing to say under the circumstances, but Merry Christmas.”

The lights went out and the door clicked shut a few moments later. Lucky stared out at the night sky. He’d never minded being a felon before—hell, he’d been good at it. And knowledge of the inner workings of drug rings had served him well with the SNB. Never had his past embarrassed him so much, when sins from long ago might splash over onto Bo.

He’d lost Victor, his family, his self-respect, his freedom. But he’d survived jail. If Stephan had his way, Bo might wind up facing charges—Lucky too.

The fact remained: Bo had gone to Mexico of his own free will. He’d rolled his sleeve up every morning to have narcotics injected into his veins. Had he done so willingly? Had he gotten off on the rush of the criminal life?

“
Between the two of us, we could easily take over Stephan’s whole operation. You know that, right? You miss the old excitement, don’t you?
”
Damn it all to hell. Bo had. He’d said so himself.

“
You’re this close to being me,
” Stephan told Bo. Was there truth in his words?

And was it too late for Lucky to pull Bo back from the brink?

He couldn’t stay here forever. Sooner or later he had to go home. Bo might be worried.

Lucky pulled out his phone. No texts. No missed calls. “Working late. Be home soon,” he typed.

Home. For months now he’d dreamed of sharing a home with Bo, and now their playing house might cost them their case. Or a couple of cases. Their jobs. Their freedom.

The hallways were empty, and the lights were dim when Lucky trudged out of Walter’s office and down the hall toward the elevator. Light in a conference room caught his eye and he stuck his head in the door.

A woman, ear buds in her ears, danced with her back to Lucky while sweeping a duster up and down the blinds. How at ease she looked. Not a care in the world.

Had Lucky ever been so carefree? Had he ever not had the weight of the world on his shoulders? He left the woman to her work and rode the elevator down to an empty parking garage.

Fuck. He didn’t have his car, and Bo probably thought he’d catch a ride with Walter. No help for it now. He called a cab.

The taxi pulled into his driveway and he sat in the car a few moments counting out the driver’s payment. A red glow marked his landlady’s presence on her porch swing, smoking a pipe. Cherry tobacco teased Lucky’s nose when he got out. At this time of year she traded her lightweight robe for a fuzzy one, and the cats gathered around her would be thick with winter coats, like Cat Lucky, who probably even now sat in Bo’s lap. The woman had singlehandedly taken on an agent she’d found creeping around the backyard.

Lucky owed the rookie who’d let him get kidnapped a swat the next time he laid eyes on the guy.

He should tell Mrs. Griggs the truth about who he was and how he made his living, arm her to the teeth, and use the woman for a guard. Or train the cats to attack on command. He’d be invincible.

The kitchen light shone from a window on Lucky’s side of the shared duplex. He dragged his feet up the steps, unlocked the door, and shuffled inside.

Bo wasn’t on the couch.

Lucky found a bowl of spaghetti in the fridge, but his stomach twisted too much to eat.

He locked up, set the unfamiliar security system for the night, and stood just inside the bedroom door. The backyard security light shown across the bed, painting Bo in stripes from the window blinds. The poor guy wasn’t aware of it yet, but his hell was far from over. In fact, it had barely begun.

Lucky would give all he had to spare the man.

He stripped down to his boxers, lifted the covers, and climbed beneath. Cat Lucky squirmed at the foot of the bed, then settled. Bo, back to Lucky, snuffled in his sleep. Moose whined softly, once, and quieted. So much for having a watchdog to keep Bo safe.

There’d been a time with the poor guy hadn’t been able to sleep in a bed. Now he slept in Lucky’s.

Let him sleep.

Lucky curled around Bo from behind and wrapped his arm around his lover’s chest.

Bo felt safe enough with Lucky to sleep.

He shouldn’t.

The phone rang at three a.m.

Chapter Seventeen

The last time Lucky’d been in this office he’d been handed his ass on a platter. Bo’s too. Was that less than ten hours ago? What was important enough to bring Walter Smith back from vacation, and in the early a.m. on Christmas Eve?

Walter stood up from behind his desk and blinked bloodshot eyes. Damn, he hadn’t even taken the time to comb his hair. Blue jeans! He wore blue jeans! And a polo shirt. Damn, he owned casual clothes?

He handed Lucky a Starbucks cup. “I’m glad you came. What I have to say can’t be said over the phone.” Walter rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and shifted from one foot to the other. Walter Smith never fidgeted. Ever.

Lucky didn’t sit. His legs quit holding him and his ass hit the chair. “What’s the matter, boss?” He’d never seen his boss so flustered.

“I received a call from Texas.”

“And?” More legal shit?

Walter slumped down into his chair. “At nine p.m. yesterday evening, Stephan Mangiardi was found dead at the facility where he was being held.”

“What happened?” Knots formed in Lucky’s stomach. Nine p.m. He’d been sitting here in Walter’s office, wishing life wasn’t so damned hard.

“An investigation is pending, but foul play seems to be at work.”

Murdered. The bastard wouldn’t stand trial. He wouldn’t rot in jail, paying for his sins. He wouldn’t be faced with living behind bars or taking his own life.