“The doctor says it’s a possibility. A small one, but still there.” And this time when he died, Walter Smith and his millions of connections couldn’t simply pull strings and bring Lucky back to life again.
Johnson yanked the name tag off her shirt and tossed the label onto the back seat. She and Lucky shared the same housekeeping techniques. “Bo knows the risks, right?”
“Yeah. I’m giving him power of attorney and doing anything else I can to take care of him.”
“You really love him, don’t you?” She relaxed her rigid stance.
Lucky glared. “Let’s not get mushy.”
Johnson slapped a hand down on the steering wheel. “Oh, my God! You do! The great Lucky Lucklighter done gone got himself totally wrapped around Bo Schollenberger’s little finger.”
No use denying. “Don’t get used to saying my given name.”
“Yeah, right, sorry. LuckyHarrison.You know, if you married him you could change your name to his and ensure he’s taken care of.”
She had to go and say the M word. “I… um… tried. He said no.” And the word cut as deeply now as when Bo first turned him down.
“What? You’re kidding me, right? Mind if I ask why?”
Lucky put extra growl into his reply. “Since when has my minding ever stopped you?”
“Never has, never will.”
“He said he didn’t want me to ask because I thought I had to.” Half the marriages back home were a matter of have to. Rednecks and shotgun weddings went together like pickup trucks and “hold my beer and watch this.” With the same bad results more often than not, like in Charlotte’s case.
Johnson tossed her hat into the back to join the label. “Not the most romantic proposal in the world. Doesn’t he know how much you love him?”
She needed to lay off the L word. Hard enough confessingfeelingsto Bo. To a coworker? Uh-uh. Not happening.
“The fact that Walter hasn’t had to rip me a new one for chewing out a rookie since Bo moved in ought to tell him a lot.” Not that Lucky hadn’t wanted to rip some stupid jerk a new asshole. But like when he’d been a kid, if he got in trouble at school, he’d catch double hell at home.
“Yeah. You’re downright mellow lately.” Johnson snorted. “Any day now you’ll be baking cupcakes and leaving them in the breakroom for everybody—not. You’re a hard ass, you’ve always been a hard ass, and you’ll stay a hard ass. It’s what you do. And someone’s got to call bullshit every now and then or we’ll all end up a bunch of mindless cattle, mooing along with the herd.”
Do what? “Johnson, is that your backhanded way of telling me you appreciate me?”
She put her nose close to his. “Lucky, no one at work but maybe me and Walter will tell you they appreciate you. They might try to look down on you, some might be afraid of you, but at the end of the day, they know damned good and well they stand a better chance of staying off the SNB’s memorial page because you’ve got their backs. Even that asshole Keith in surveillance knows when you go out on a job, you’re bringing his precious equipment back in one piece. Have you even looked at your numbers lately?”
“What numbers?”
“Your bureau ratings. How many assignments versus how many arrests. And how many of those arrests led to convictions because you did your homework?”
No, he hadn’t looked. Hadn’t needed to. Up until recently, he’d been secure in being the best. Now? Not so much.
Johnson drew back to her side of the Jeep and tapped her fingernail against the steering wheel. “Walter promoted you to training for a reason. We learn law in a classroom, the right way and the wrong way to do things, but you show us how to walk the fine line that’ll bring down suspects and get us home at night.”
Damn. And every now and then Lucky grumbled about Walter promoting him as punishment. “What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying that you’re one hella good agent. And with a little more training, I might turn you into a halfway decent friend.”
“Don’t you dare say that shit to anyone. Understand?” Yeah, people hear Lucky’s name and “friend” in the same sentence, and they might start expecting those cupcakes in the breakroom.
“Okay, now you know you’re good at those things, you can let it rest a bit. Work on something you might not be so good at.” She took on a tone she likely used when instructing her son.
When uncomfortable, revert to habit. “But I’m the best at everything.”
“Then why did Bo turn you down?”
Ouch. “I told you why—”
