“Bingo. And we need to find out where he got the drug.”
If Lucky’s brain wasn’t hurting so bad, he’d shake his head to knock loose the cobwebs. Too much info, too fast. “Wait a minute. Why were you watching me?”
Jimmy flashed a tense smile. “Wasn’t you I was watching, though I must admit, my target being related to the famous drug trafficker-turned-agent Lucky Lucklighter did kinda make me wonder.”
Lucky might as well tattoo his birth name on his forehead. “Bristol? What are you watching my brother for?”
“He’s been linked to a major drug trafficker. Um… besides you. And with his father checking into the hospital, I got assigned.”
Asswipe. But goody-two-shoes Bristol? “What you got so far? I checked him out earlier and couldn’t find anything.”
“You’re not in the office, so you don’t have full access, do you?” Oh, how Lucky itched to bitch slap the superior grin off Jimmy’s face.
No. He didn’t.
Jimmy took on an “all business” pose, face devoid of emotion, so much like Walter in interrogation mode. “Tell me about your brother. What kind of relationship do you have?”
To hell with this twenty questions shit. “I’m not telling you diddly squat. I answer to Walter Smith.”
“Why else would I be here? Seems he’s thorough, and he got around my alias. But I’d heard of his skills and yours. He contacted the office demanding answers, and here I am. So, stop stalling and talk. What about Bristol? What kind of relationship do you have?”
Hell, no. Not taking anyone’s word without proof. Lucky held up a finger, grabbed his phone to text Walter, and found a waiting text:Please cooperate with Agent Salters.
Damn it. Cooperating. Not Lucky’s strong suit. “We don’t. My family disowned me ages ago. They were told I died.”
“What were you two like before your arrest?”
Yeah, asshole. Remind me of my mistakes.“He pretty much hated me. Hated the whole family. Hated being poor.” Wasn’t much Bristol hadn’t hated but wealth, power, and his own self.
“So he liked money.”
“Yeah. The house. The car. High class girlfriends.” The drugs had to be keeping Lucky’s mind from working right. Oh, to have a clear head right now. “We need to check his financial records.”
“No.The bureauneeds to check his financial records. You need to go home for your own safety. You’re on medical leave. This isn’t your case. I just needed information.”
Bristol. Damn, how he must’ve crowed the day the family shut the door on Lucky for good.
The day the family…
Oh shit.
“I need to talk to Walter. Now!” Lucky hit the call button on his phone.
***
“What did you remember?” Walter shuffled through the door about the time Jimmy got Lucky into a wheelchair for the long ride to freedom—courtesy of the faded blue sweat pants he’d paid another patient way too much for.
“Our… friends. They were checking on something for me. I need you to feed them the name Bristol Lucklighter. Where’s Bo?” Bo should be here. Lucky needed him.
“He’s still investigating a few leads.”
“But I’m going home, right? Ain’t he taking me?” Bo ought to be headed for home with Lucky.
Jimmy spoke up. “No. I’m driving you.”
“Now hold on one damned minute.” The guy hadn’t earned Lucky’s trust yet and likely never would.
Walter grabbed the back of Lucky’s wheelchair and started pushing. “Lucky, for once in your life, take an order and don’t question. James will escort you back home to Atlanta into Loretta Johnson’s care.”
