“Ten fucking grams?” Lucky yelled and yanked Charlotte’s hand back over his mouth.
“Ten grams? That happened a long time ago, but are you sure it came from Rich?” Charlotte made an “I’m sorry” face and squeezed Lucky’s hand until he no longer felt like screaming.
But wait! She hadn’t whapped him, so she must not believe Daytona.
“I’m sure. It was addressed to my dorm and had his return address. The card was in his handwriting, and he told me to have myself a party.”
“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Charlotte asked in hopeful tones.
“Positive. In fact, I still got the card. Hold on a minute while I go get it.”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Lucky and hit the mute button. “Brother, I love you, but I’ll kill you myself if you sent the kid drugs. He nearly died!”
Lucky knew better than most the effects of a heroin overdose. He’d rounded up enough bodies in his time with the SNB. But he hadn’t dealt with anything as base as heroin during his own drug trafficking days, only pharmaceuticals. “Think about it. Would I spend close to a thousand dollars on the twerp’s birthday?”
Her scowl eased up. “Not saying you’re cheap or nothin’, but no, you wouldn’t.”
Daytona came back on the line. “Got it.” Was that a sniffle? “It says, ‘I know I shouldn’t encourage your vices, but here, knock yourself out.’”
What the fuck?
***
Lucky lay back on the couch, vision going a little black. Sure, he’d sent his brother birthday presents. He’d sent them to all his family members. But not drugs. Never drugs. His cheap nature might be the only thing keeping him from dying for real at his sister’s hands—that and Victor’s unwillingness to hand over large amounts of cash.
Addressed to Daytona, at school, Lucky’s handwriting on the card. Lucky whispered, “Ask if he still has the package, showing his address.”
“You didn’t keep the package, but any chance, did you?” Charlotte nibbled her lower lip.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Damn.
“Thanks, Daytona. I appreciate you telling me. Now I gotta go. Love you, kiddo.” Charlotte snatched her phone off the coffee table and gave Lucky the evil eye. “Start talking.”
“I didn’t do it. I mighta sent him a gift, like I did the rest of you. But it sure the hell wasn’t heroin.” Not even if he could have afforded the price.
“What did you send him then?”
“I don’t remember offhand. Jeez, woman. You expect me to recollect something happened over ten years ago?” He wasn’t getting old. Nope, surely not. He just—had a lot on his mind. Yeah, sounded good.
Charlotte’s shoulders sagged and she unballed her fists. Maybe Lucky wouldn’t get punched after all. The minutes of head scratching and staring out into space grated on Lucky’s nerves.
“You’re creeping me out here. Say something.” Anything’d do right now.
She slammed a hand down on her thigh hard enough to make Lucky jump. “Someone at the college must’ve switched your package.”
“College? Fuck! He said it came to his dorm room, right? That proves I didn’t send it. I knew how suspicious Mom and Dad were of Daytona’s friends, so I always mailed stuff to the farm where they’d know about it.”
“But how would it get from the farm to his dorm, and who switched it and framed you?” Charlotte nibbled at a fingernail. “And why?”
Lucky had a good idea, but he wasn’t going to say until he got a chance to check out his suspicions. Would his shady past ever leave him alone? Right around the time Daytona received the package the buzzards had circled, waiting to swoop down on Victor’s operation. Two tickets. To Rio.
The Lucky of fourteen years ago wouldn’t have left his family.
Unless his family forced his hand. And Victor sure had access to about any kind of drug he wanted.
But why would Victor pay for the kid’s college and try to kill him?
