Or he could get Todd off the couch during the day. Ride to work with Bo and leave the Camaro.
Lucky could…
Lucky stopped cold. Had he really been planning for the worst? No. The game couldn’t be over for Walter. If anyone could beat whatever the hell happened to him, Mt. Walter could.
Only, what had happened to him to begin with? All tests came out negative, except for the ones Walter had already mentioned would be out of normal range.
What if… What if…
What if Walter’s attack wasn’t from natural causes?
***
Washed up, wrung out, and hung out to dry. That’s how Lucky felt. Squeezed of all emotion after a weekend spent more or less at the hospital. He’d woken up to a lot of Mondays in his life, and they’d all sucked.
He stepped off the elevator onto the floor housing the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau’s Department of Diversion Prevention and Control. Lisa jumped out from behind the reception desk the moment he passed by.
“Lu… I mean, Mr. Harrison?” She gave him a fleeting smile.
“Yes?” While he’d been known to socialize with the receptionist, her husband, and her kid, she usually kept a formal distance at work.
Lisa came close, keeping her voice low. “Any word on Mr. Smith?”
“They didn’t tell me much.” Not that the doctors admitted not knowing anything, even though Mrs. Smith kept up the charade of Lucky being her son. Doctors were supposed to be experts, right? “Too early to tell,” they said, and “we can’t be certain of permanent damage.” Worthless, the lot of them.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The department sent flowers.” She wrung her hands, keeping her eyes downcast.
Ah, hell. He’d been too caught up in his own pity party to realize she suffered too. She’d probably started working here fresh out of college, had known Walter for years. More than likely he’d been like a father to her too.
“You okay?” He’d never gotten good at the comforting people thing, but he wasn’t a total jerk. Bo wouldn’t let him be.
She sniffled. No! Not tears! He jerked his head right and left, searching for someone, anyone. Where was Bo? Could they tag up?
Lisa buried her face on Lucky’s shoulder. Sobs wracked her body.
Well, damn. If she was his sister, he would want someone to comfort her. He wrapped his arms around the tiny blonde. She wept harder. If she didn’t stop soon, he’d join her.
Her hair smelled fruity and she wore soft perfume. Bo wore cologne.
So did Walter.
Suddenly he didn’t mind the trembling body. “What are we going to do, if he… if he…” Lisa wailed.
“Shh… He won’t,” Lucky assured her, though his heart twisted at the possibility. He stroked her head, her hair soft against his fingertips.
“Well, well, well, what have we here? You decide to finally try women? I’m not sure Lisa’s husband’s gonna like sharing.”
The venom in the voice ran Lucky’s blood cold. He turned his head, but Lisa clung too tightly for him to let go. “What is your problem?”
Keith, the man who’d gotten on Lucky’s bad side the day he’d shown up at the bureau. He’d been out of the office long enough for Lucky to hope he’d never come back.
Yet, he had.
“What’s wrong?” Keith chided. “Your boyfriend get tired of your worthless ass and leave you?”
Lisa struggled. Lucky let her go, put himself between her and Keith, and gave his best back-the-fuck-off scowl. “Let me tell you one thing, you sonofabitch—”
Lisa stepped out from behind Lucky, glaring at Keith. “Walter Smith had a heart attack, you ass!”
