Lucky studied Rett’s face, ready to wade into the conversation if she took offense. The kid didn’t know he delved into dangerous territory, calling Rett’s having to shoot her child’s father “awesome.”
Rett shrugged. “Not really. I wish I didn’t have to, but sometimes you ain’t got a choice.” The smile left her face. Then she brightened. “I know somebody who’s been shot.”
“Who?” Ty asked, ignoring his pizza in favor of leaning forward and hanging on to Rett’s every word.
“Your uncle.”
Ty eyed Lucky and sank back on the bench. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to ask Lucky questions, even if he did think getting shot was awesome. His teenaged stubbornness wouldn’t allow him to find any aspect of his uncle interesting.
Not anymore. He’d been so excited after finding out Lucky wasn’t dead after all, merely living life as someone else as a form of witness protection.
But that had been when Ty lived in Spokane and Lucky lived in Atlanta.
Todd, on the other hand, had no problem nosing into other people’s business, though with his usual light touch. “You actually got shot? I’ll bet you have some pretty good stories to tell, huh?” He paused a minute, pink flushing his cheeks. “Umm… you don’t mind me asking, do you?”
Blushing. From a Lucklighter. What a first.
“Getting shot happens sometimes in our line of work.” Lucky really didn’t want to discuss work on his day off, and he definitely didn’t want the conversation to end with talk of the bureau’s memorial website, which paid tribute to fallen agents and other employees. However, Todd asked questions, showed an interest in Lucky’s life. A step in the right direction for uncle/nephew connection, right?
Bo, bless his heart, let Lucky duck out of the conversation. He raised a brow in question and Lucky nodded. As much as he liked talking to his nephews, Lucky didn’t really want to go into detail about getting shot. Or breaking an ankle. Or getting locked into a car trunk and abducted.
Bo braced his forearms on the table and lowered his voice to secret-sharing volume. “Did he tell you about the time he was checking out a counterfeit drug operation, fell down a kudzu vine, and wound up covered in bat sh… droppings?”
“No!” Todd side-eyed Lucky and grinned. “Spill.”
So much for Lucky becoming legendary in his nephews’ eyes, or interesting them in a life as an agent—not that he’d let them if they wanted to. Nothing said, “This is not a glamorous job” like getting covered in bat shit, breaking an ankle, and getting tossed out of a truck in the middle of nowhere.
A flash of copper caught his eye. Holding still, he watched from his peripheral vision. He faked a sneeze into a napkin, using the excuse to turn his head slightly.
Partially hidden behind a video game stood Rookie Rogers, bumbling idiot of the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau, and the poorest tail Lucky’d ever shaken off.
Pinging from the machines, laughter, and loud conversations made Lucky’s head throb. Still he managed to watch the man so out of place in polo shirt, khaki pants, and loafers.
The intel Lucky had on him said the man wasn’t married and didn’t have kids. No nephews or nieces even.
So, why was he skulking around an amusement arcade?
Lucky stood. “I gotta hit the john.” The moment he rose, Rogers fled, giving away far too much.
Now why would an SNB agent follow Lucky on his day off?
Chapter Two
“Wanna play a game?” Lucky sprawled on the brown, not-real-leather couch, one of Bo’s contributions when they’d gotten the house. He held up a game controller and pulled the lever on the side of the couch to recline his half.
Ty slumped down as far away from Lucky as possible while still sharing the same piece of furniture. “Nah.”
“Watch a movie? We got Netflix.”
The sulky teen slouched some more, staring at the floor. “Movies are lame.”
Lucky sighed. He so did not know how to deal with someone determined to hate everything.Remind you of anyone?the version of Bo living in his head asked. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to be back in Spokane, where I belong!” Ty dashed out of the living room and down the hall. The guestroom door slammed with enough force to register on the Richter scale.
Bo grabbed Lucky’s arm, keeping him from sprinting after Ty. “Just let him be. He’s going through a tough time right now.”
“Shouldn’t I go talk to him?” That’s what Lucky’s father would have done. Sternly.
