Lucky jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Bo ran his lips along the shell of Lucky’s ear.
Lucky stiffened and searched out his nephews.
“They’re in the house talking to their mom on the phone. Ty’s telling her all about his first day of school,” Bo murmured. “I get you all to myself for a minute.”
Charlotte reporting on selling the house—the house Ty missed—wasn’t likely to improve his mood.
Easier to face down a hopped-up addict than a sulky teenager.
It wasn’t until after dinner, when Lucky hauled the trashcan to the curb for pickup, that he spotted an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway of an empty house, three doors down.
Prickles rose on the back of his neck and a familiar sense of wrongness squirmed in his gut. Years of living on high alert had fined-tuned his survival instincts. The car shouldn’t be there.
No lights shone from the house windows, so not a potential buyer. The neighbors on either side had plenty of parking, so not someone poaching, and getting in the gate required a code.
Hmm… Interesting. As was the glimpse of red hair on the driver.
Oh, hell no.
Lucky dropped the trash can and started down the walkway.
The car started.
Lucky took off hell for leather, but the car squealed tires.
Fucker.
Fuck his damned gimpy-assed leg. Of course, his side had to get a word in. He pressed his hand to his incision site, staving off the screaming protest of the healing scar reminding him he’d recently lost half his liver.
Voices from the kitchen said he had a few minutes alone to catch his breath when he returned to the house. He fired up his work computer, logged into the SNB site, and entered the car’s license plate.
Not found. Damn it!
Though any number of people might have reason to stalk him, no mistaking Rookie Rogers’ flaming hair. The bureau database didn’t show the license number either.
He should tell Bo.
No. No need getting him upset without reason. Besides, he’d try to talk sense, tell Lucky he’d let his imagination run away with him.
Come tomorrow, Lucky planned to get some answers.
Even if he had to beat them out of somebody.
Chapter Five
Lucky strolled into the living room in a pair of boxers, working his teeth with a foamy toothbrush, leg aching from last night’s unexpected run. No more skulking around the house buck naked with kids around.
Conversation and laughter came from the kitchen, and for a moment a touch of jealousy curled through Lucky’s stomach. Then he snorted. Ty needed a positive male influence in his life and he’d hit the jackpot with Bo.
Lucky crept back the way he’d come. Let the guys have their bonding time while he finished up in the bathroom.
The scent of pancakes and syrup wafted through the house, leading Lucky straight to the table.
“Good morning!” Bo called out, doling out pancakes to Todd and Ty. Damn, but he’d make a good father.
“Mawnin’,” Lucky replied to avoid an elbow to the ribs for bad manners and headed for the coffee pot. Bo’s laptop sat on the counter. One look at the Pharmaceutical Daily News onscreen made Lucky stop.
