Lucky climbed out of the SUV and followed Bo across the parking lot toward an older man with graying hair.
“Hey, Chuck,” Bo said, hand outstretched.
The man shook Bo’s hand. “You ready to get this show on the road?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Bo drawled, fine-tuning his Arkansas dialect to match Chuck’s Alabama drawl.
How easily Bo sank into his undercover roles. Lucky shuddered, remembering Cyrus Cooper, badass biker, and the months Bo spent being someone else so well he barely came back to himself.
Bo clasped Lucky’s shoulder and urged him forward. “Allow me to introduce Anderson Fowler, or rather, the man taking Anderson’s place today.”
Lucky cut his eyes toward Bo.
Only knowing the man as well as he did let Lucky find the hidden smirk in his smile.
The skin around Chuck’s eyes crinkled. “I know Anderson. You’re a far sight easier on the eyes than he is.”
Anderson must be one ugly sonofabitch. Or a harder ass than Lucky, dim possibility though that was.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Chuck asked.
“We’ll know it when we see it.” Bo hiked a thumb at Lucky. “This man has more experience in this sort of thing than I’ll ever have. Get him into as many places as you can.”
“Will do. I’ll ask for a complete audit. Tour, operating procedures, incident reports, the works. They’ll wish we were just the FDA when we get through with them.”
Guy must be pretty tough. The mere mention of an FDA inspection sent most pharma operations scuttling for cover.
Lucky followed Bo and Chuck into the building. His nerves kicked into high gear. Answers to his questions lay inside, waiting to be found.
Hewouldfind them.
How he’d love to have Johnson here with them, do a full takedown of this place. The talking heads here at Forsyth offered Chastain a shady deal, they had secrets to hide.
Finding out those secrets would make Lucky one happy man.
The warehouse gave him no surprises, and the stock stood in organized rows on shelves.
Tight security too. The guard escorting them scrutinized their every move. Lucky’s eyes had begun to cross by the time he finished reading boring procedure after boring procedure, and his tie threatened strangulation.
Bo charmed all he met, and even got invited out to lunch three times. Once by a man who smiled too broadly and stood too close.
“No, thank you. We’re not allowed to socialize.” Bo gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry.”
The man’s flirtiness vanished and he backed away. Good. Lucky wouldn’t have to gut slug him one.
They’d lied to O’Donoghue, drove all this way, and found absolutely nada. Last stop: executive wing.
Nameplates graced most of the office doors, but one corner office bore an empty plate. On a whim, Lucky asked the receptionist, “When will you fill the job?” After all, he had read about an unfilled executive position, hadn’t he?
“Don’t worry.” She gave him a blinding smile. “We already have. He starts next month. He’s former DEA.”
“What’s his name?”
“O—.”
“Ms. Payton, may I see you for a moment?” a well-dressed man barked from an open doorway.
“Coming, sir!” The woman’s face flushed and she scampered away.
