If he had to dream about drug lords, at least Nestor Sauceda might not kill him outright. If he’d wanted Lucky dead, he’d had a million chances.
“What chu doin’ here?” Lucky managed to get out.
“Would you believe I was in the neighborhood and stopped by?” Nestor stood ramrod straight by the bed, the faint light catching the white in his hair.
“No.”
Nestor laughed. “Still the same cynical Lucky. I’m here because you asked a question, and although our mutual friend couldn’t answer directly, we both know you. If you didn’t hear straight from us, you’d pick any answer apart and not believe. So here I am.”
Conscious thought tried to crawl through the murky, drug-induced fuzz in Lucky’s head. “Wha?”
“You asked if Victor delivered drugs to your younger brother.”
Oh, yeah.
“He’s quite displeased you even had to ask, but I reminded him who you are. He said, and I quote, ‘Tell the suspicious sonofabitch he should know I’d never harm his family.’”
“If he didn’t, who did?” Lucky forced out.
“It happened a long time ago, so other than the card your brother saved, the evidence is gone. However, as a favor to you, I’ll use our resources to help find out.”
“Happened years ago. How’ll you do that?”
Lucky barely felt the hand on his shoulder through his opioid-induced haze. “You have your sources, we have ours.”
“Have I ever told you you’re scary as hell?” Oh, crap. Drugs made Lucky’s uncouth mouth even worse.
Nestor laughed. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
What the fuck ever.
“I won’t stay long, you’re recovering, but even without the question I wanted to check in on you. I’m sure you expect me to say I’m surprised at your selfless act, but I’m not in the least. You try so hard not to be, but you’re a good man, Richmond Lucklighter.”
Lucky managed enough energy to shoot back, “Don’t even start that rumor.”
Nestor’s laugh became a snort. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, and I’ve made a career out of keeping secrets.”
“How’d Walter get in touch with you?”
“He has his ways, though I’d not expected him to use them this soon, and not for this reason.”
“Huh?”
Nestor patted Lucky’s hand—the one not sporting a needle. “The job offer still holds, if ever you decide to take it. We can use a man like you.”
International drug task force. A chance to kick drug trafficker ass on a global scale—without Bo. “Not hap’nin. I’m where I belong.”
“For now. But if you ever reconsider…” Nestor shrugged and slipped out the door.
Lucky’s eyelids grew heavy. Sleep, glorious sleep, called to him.
***
“How are you feeling?” Bo sat at Lucky’s bedside, cellphone in hand. Probably hunting down pokies or pookies or whatthehellevers.
“Like someone cut me in half and forgot to put me back together.” And if Lucky could move now, he’d kick the ass of the nurse who’d made him get out of bed and shuffle ten miles uphill to the bathroom. Of course, the jury hadn’t yet decided the worst of two evils: having to walk to the bathroom to pee or having a tube shoved up his dick. He coughed. Oh, dear God!
And may he please live the rest of his life without crossing paths with another drainage tube.
