“So, they made a move.” And pretty much admitted their guilt. “I kind of expected someone to make an attempt.” He’d not dealt much with the FTC. Maybe he should.
A long pause followed, then a sigh. “There’s something else.” Chastain blurted the words out in a rush.
“What?”
“You asked about how well I knew and trusted my employees. Well, we’ve been trying to stay in contact, keep them informed as to what’s going on, and make sure they received any pay owed them.”
The hairs on the back of Lucky’s neck rose. “And?”
“There’s this one guy, relatively new, we can’t find. He didn’t show up for his last paycheck either.”
The sudden stench in the air could be trash in an alley or bullshit getting deep. “Can you send over anything you have on this guy?” Lucky gave Chastain his personal e-mail. No sense in getting the SNB involved, especially if he couldn’t trust his own so-called teammates.
“I will.” Chastain paused, then added in a weak voice, “Do you think we’ll be able to beat this thing?”
“I’m damned sure going to try.” Like hell would Lucky let some big deal corporation steal Chastain’s hard-won success.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?”
“The DEA agent? The one who closed us down?”
“Yes?”
“His name is Owen Landry.”
Fuck.
***
Lucky didn’t see Bo until he got home, where he did his best to be a good father figure to the boys, eating dinner at the table and later watching a family movie—after Ty finished homework, grumbling and complaining all the while.
The moment the boys went to bed, Lucky grabbed Bo’s wrist and hauled him to the bedroom.
Bo let out a laugh. “Not worried Todd and Ty will hear us?”
“I’ve got something to show you.”
Bo waggled his brows.
Lucky rolled his eyes. “On my laptop.”
“I’m up for porn if you are.”
Lucky scowled. How he’d love to throw Bo down on the bed, fuck him senseless, but first things first.
Where had he taken a wrong turn in life to wind up with work taking precedence over sex?
He grabbed his personal laptop, sank down on the edge of the mattress, and raised his eyes to Bo in a question.
Bo sat beside him, playfulness and innuendo gone. “What you got?”
“Chastain says Forsyth Pharmaceuticals is trying to force a buyout.”
“Good luck with that.” Bo barked a disbelieving laugh.
“He also said he had a relatively new employee that he can’t contact and who hasn’t picked up his last check.”
