What was Victor telling Bo? Once they’d spoken, would Bo ever want anything to do with Lucky again? Lucky sure wouldn’t.
Though he’d been honest with Bo about his life, he hadn’t divulged every little detail. And Victor knew a lot of little details.
What if… What if…
What if Bo decided Lucky wasn’t worth the effort? After all, before they’d met, Bo had a reasonably settled life, no ex-cons, no getting shot at.
Oh, right. Awful father. Four years in the Marines. Facing his own less-than-perfect past.
Only, Bowasperfect. Perfect in every way that mattered.
Perfect for Lucky.
Bo wasn’t jealous of Lucky’s time with Victor, was he? He certainly had nothing to worry about. Victor had been a road Lucky needed to travel to get to the here and now.
“You’re gonna wear the damned carpet out if you don’t quit pacing.” Johnson stopped Lucky mid-stride with a hand to his chest. “Will you trust the man for a minute?”
Lucky gestured to the closed conference room door. “He’s in there with my… with my…”
Johnson rolled her eyes. “How about the senior agent in charge of an international drug investigation, taking a statement from another agent who’s also worked on the case?”
Lucky jerked his head toward Johnson and back to watch the door. “You think that’s all they’re doing?”
“Yes. I’ve already given my statement.”
Lucky glared. “What?”
Johnson sighed, took a few steps down the hall, and parked on the corner of Bo’s desk—there wasn’t enough room on Lucky’s.
“Walter called a meeting to let us know about Mr. Mangiardi’s involvement in the case. When we couldn’t find you and Bo, we were about to send out a search party. Mangiardi said he already had a guy in place.”
“Would’ve been nice if someone had filled me in.”
“Hello! We tried! We couldn’t find you, remember?”
Lucky dug his phone out of his pocket. Oh, still silent. Ten missed calls.
Damn. Well, Lucky never understood the point in admitting to being wrong and saw no need to change what worked.
“Hear anything from Phillip?”
“Not one damned thing. Just wait. I’ll rip him a new asshole the moment…”
Lucky’s attention shot from Johnson’s torture recital to the slowly opening door.
***
Bo stepped out of the conference room, his face giving no hint of what he might be feeling.
Lucky’s heart dropped when Bo murmured, “He wants to see you now.”
Oh.
Shit.
Mouth dry as dust, Lucky passed Bo in the doorway, the boulder in his throat keeping words at bay. At the last moment, Bo met his eyes and flashed a hint of a smile, enough for Lucky to catch a glimpse of The Dimple.
Hallelujah! Whatever he’d face in the conference room, he wouldn’t be alone, even if Bo stood at his side only in spirit.
