“Swelling of the brain due to viral infection.”
Hey, Bo hadn’t sounded like a textbook in a few days. Lucky must be losing his mind if he missed Bo’s quoting. “Chigger disease?”
“Chagas disease.”
“Do I have those?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Good enough for Lucky. He scrolled down the page, clicking boxes. Too bad this wasn’t high school. Then he’d make patterns on the paper by filling in the right bubbles and hope for the best. His teachers never commented on the dick picture he’d turned in once—and he’d passed!
“Need help?”
One of the many things to love about having a partner. “Sure.” Lucky slid his laptop over to give Bo a better look at the screen, and hopefully make him say, “I got this. You go take a nap.”
“No to number seventeen, no to twenty.” Bo stroked a finger over the display. “Nope, nope, nope.”
“How do you know?” Especially when Lucky didn’t.
“The same way you know stuff about me. I hacked your files.”
“You didn’t.” Mr. Honest hacking files? Might give Lucky a stiffie.
“No, I didn’t. But those diseases don’t exist in the USA, and you’ve never been to the UK or Central America.”
Oh. For a moment there… Lucky squirmed and adjusted his interested cock. He’d still dream. Agent and the computer hacker would add a nice touch to their role playing. If and when he ever got to fuck again without condoms.
He used to insist on gloving for the loving. Now he’d give his left nut to go back in time, find the sonofabitches who invented the damned things, and kick the living shit out of them.
Bo kissed the side of Lucky’s neck. “How much more you got to do?”
“Four more pages.” Four more pages of hunt and peck typing. “I might be finished this time tomorrow.”
Bo hip-bumped him. “Go on, I got this.”
Hallelujah.
***
Lucky stared at his latest e-mail. Surgery, May 15. Wow, they didn’t dick around, did they?
He put his signature on Johnson’s report, the last paperwork he’d file for a while.
“Did you know you get a furrow between your eyebrows the size of the Grand Canyon when you think too hard?” Johnson placed a steaming coffee cup on Lucky’s desk and sipped her own brew while scowling at the half-dozen empty and semi-empty cups littering the surface. “You really should throw those away, you know.”
“What do you want?” He gave her his best evil eye.
She’d brought him coffee, been his friend when he didn’t deserve her. He opened his mouth to apologize—
“Walter gave me part of your caseload. I came to check if you had anything else to tell me that wasn’t in the files.”
Okay, maybe he’d give her his full attention. “Who you working with?”
“Landry.”
What the fuck? “The king of morons? What about Bo?”
Johnson parked her butt on Bo’s empty desk. “What about him?”
