But what if Bristol had been in the room and knew Lucky still lived?
They might have called him Idiot Boy in younger days, yet he’d been the smartest of the bunch. Yet Bristol used to cry when getting a shot. Fainted at the sight of a needle.
The dial swung back to Nurse Andy. Lucky’s gut told him either Nurse Andy or Bristol had tried to kill him, and his gut feelings weren’t often wrong.
Or maybe he’d eaten way too much soft food lately and his stomach staged a rebellion to get a burger and fries. Whatever. Either one of those two assholes had access to Lucky’s family. Bristol had sense enough to figure out that if Lucky lived, Charlotte knew.
And Bristol hadn’t wanted to help Dad. Claimed him dying was God’s will. What if Bristol decided to play God?
Damn it all to hell! Until the meds cleared Lucky’s system, every single thought could be real, or simply paranoia.
No use taking chances, then. He slid out of bed. He should have been going home today anyway. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. He crept out into the hallway with his IV pole. At least wearing loose sweat pants meant his bare ass wasn’t shining out the back of a split-tailed hospital gown.
Gray walls, gray floor. Not a lot of people about. He stuck his head around a corner. An old man and woman sat in wheelchairs in the hallway. The smell of the hallway didn’t scream “hospital in a can” like the place he’d left.
He should find some clothes. What about a car?
“Lucky? What are you doing?”
Damn. Busted. He turned a sheepish smile on Bo. Holding completely still kept his gut pain to a minimum. Still there, but bearable. The image of one good jab to his stitches and his remaining liver sliding out raced through his mind.
Bo grabbed him by the arm.
Lucky yelped and let himself be led back to his room. “We gotta get back to the hospital.”
Bo tucked Lucky into bed, checked his IV, and folded his arms across his chest. “Why?”
“Because whoever tried to kill me is still there. With my family.”
“We’ve got surveillance in place, and Keith’s counterpart in the Richmond office is going over security videos to figure out who went into your room.”
Not good enough. Lucky needed to be in the middle of the action. “I got a real good idea who tried to off me.”
“Who?”
“Nurse Andy or Bristol Lucklighter.”
Bo let out a long-suffering sigh. “Andrew Polatty? I searched, and found nothing on him.”
“I checked him too. He checks out, all right. His record is almost a perfect match for Simon Harrison’s. Which means it’s fake.”
Bo palmed his face. “Oh, shit. And you’d be able to find dirt on him if it existed, wouldn’t you? I told Walter it was too soon to give you your laptop.”
“Well, I don’t have access to a few more records I need, but yeah.”
The hand dropped, revealing Bo’s wide eyes and open mouth. “Wait a damned minute. Bristol? You suspect your brother? Why?”
“There ain’t a bit of love lost between us, I can tell you. He hated having a hick family. It must’ve stuck in his craw kinda bad to have a brother go to prison.” Not much of a way Bristol could explain the arrest to the pack of rich kids he’d hung around with.
Bo tapped a finger against his chin. “You do realize narcotics and sedatives can induce paranoia, right?”
Yeah, they could. “Listen to me. This ain’t drugs talking. We gotta get over there.” Lucky struggled to get up. Bo kept him down with one hand on his chest.
“You’re not going anywhere. If anything, I’ll go. And I’ll call Walter on the way. Tell him your suspicions. But not liking you isn’t a motive for murder. If it was…”
No need saying how many times Lucky would have died by now if contempt killed. Too bad housekeeping came back for the knife he’d kept from his lunch tray, taking away his only defense from homicidal maniacs. “You don’t believe me.” Lucky stuck out his lip. Normally, Bo had his back.
“I didn’t say that.”
