Ty rolled his lip.
“And where, exactly, were you?” Lucky growled at Johnson.
She gave him a wide smile and reached back to pat her son’s head. “Rone here wanted to drive the bumper cars.”
How did she know what the kid wanted? Lucky couldn’t recall hearing the boy say more than a handful of words. No telling how the boisterous, in-your-face woman managed to have a shy son.
Same way Charlotte Lucklighter managed to give birth to a clean-cut, laid-back, straight arrow like Todd. Somehow Todd managed to gain a few inches on Lucky’s five-feet-six, though at eighteen he hadn’t yet outgrown his gangly puppy phase.
Todd eyed Lucky. “Pizza?”
The pizza and popcorn scent the amusement hall must spray out of a can made Lucky’s stomach rumble. His two hollow-legged nephews were likely starving. How did his sister ever keep them fed?
“Ms. Perky. You and the wannabe teenager here”—Lucky hiked a thumb at Bo— “go rustle us up some grub.” He didn’t add,and let the old man rest.
“I’ll stay here,” Bo said, shooing the others away with a wave of his hand. “Y’all go.”
Lucky’s glower cut off any arguments. Or rather, a glower and handing his debit card to Todd.
Rett winked and herded the boys in front of her to the concessions.
Motherfucker! Lucky rubbed his sore chest and slumped down at the nearest picnic table clean enough to possibly not kill them with E. coli or one of those other things he read about in pharmaceutical reports. He dropped his head into his hands. How had he let this happen? He really must be losing his touch. Two untrained kids beat the living crap out of, not one, but two seasoned agents of the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau.
And shot him at point blank range. That stung!
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Bo said, patting Lucky on the back and settling beside him. Streaks of red marred his cheeks and clothes. “They told me they did this all the time back home with their mother. They knew the equipment, had years to build strategy.”
Still, the pang of losing delivered one hell of a bitch-slap. What if Lucky and Bo had been in the field for real? What if they were so easily defeated on the streets of Atlanta?
He’d gotten old. And slow. And tired. Why did having a chunk of liver yanked out slow him up so much? Someone dropped down on the opposite side of the table. Lucky rolled his eyes upward. “You could’ve come in there and helped us, you know.”
Rett Johnson held up a pizza box. The tantalizing aroma teased Lucky’s nostrils. Pizza. No healthy food in sight meant Bo couldn’t raise too much hell about Lucky wolfing down grease and pepperoni. His stomach roared at the thought.
“Three against two isn’t good odds. Besides, me and Rone had fun on the bumper cars, didn’t we, baby?” Johnson’s son climbed onto the seat beside her, managing to keep mostly hidden behind his mother.
She placed the box on the table and ruffled the boy’s curls. “You only have to grow a little more, then you can play paintball.” Protective Mama Bear. Small and delicate-looking, her six-year-old must’ve taken after his daddy.
The elephant stampede noises of Lucky’s nephews’ approach beat them to the table. Blue paint on Todd’s shirt marked Lucky’s direct hit, while the red blotch on his own bore testament to Todd’s marksmanship. Of the four paintball players, Bo, Lucky, Todd, and Ty, only Ty’s clothes remained relatively paint free.
They placed another pizza box and four drinks on the table.
“I guess your mama taught you to shoot,” Lucky said, trying to make conversation with his younger nephew andconnect. Bo’s words, not Lucky’s.
“She’s taken us to the range back ho…” Ty’s smile fell. Soon home wouldn’t be Spokane, Washington, the only place the kid remembered. Todd might still recall living in North Carolina with his loser of a dad, but not much.
Lucky opened his mouth to ask if Ty was okay with the move to Georgia, when Rett cut him off. “When will their mama be back?”
Lucky stuck his hand into the pizza box, drew out a slice of cheesy goodness and ignored Bo wiping grease off his slice with napkins. Four napkins, soaked through, equaled good pizza in Lucky’s book, even if Bo ordered half of one of the pizzas without meat. Only, removing the grease before eating was sacrilege and ruined a perfectly good food fix.
“Charlotte’ll be back as soon as she settles matters with her house, works her two weeks’ notice at the hospital, and arranges a moving van.” She couldn’t get back soon enough. Lucky loved his nephews, always had, always would, but he’d dealt with two young ‘uns the last time he’d been around his nephews, not two teens, one prone to dramatics and sullen moods.
Not liking what Lucky put on the table for dinner.
Or being too cold.
Or too hot.
Or everything in the world being lame.
