The guy’s parents had connections though. From what Johnson said, if Phillip showed the least inkling of ambition Mommy and Daddy might buy him a position somewhere.
Of those two, neither seemed likely.
Now for contestant number three: Owen Landry.
Lucky took a deep breath and cleared his mind. If he didn’t let his old prejudices go he’d blind himself to critical facts. Yes, the jerkoff tried to get close to Bo, but couldn’t. Bo drew people like moths to a flame. Besides, Lucky curled up to that flame every night, Landry didn’t.
Wow. He’d also been a criminal justice major, but top of his class. Father and brother in DEA, which might explain how Landry ended up there. Had they pulled strings to get him in?
Not likely.
So, not a complete moron. Had ties to some pretty influential people.
Lucky let out a low whistle. Boyfriend been busy the past few years, climbing the ranks. He’d volunteered to train with SNB, and had beaten out a lot of talented agents for the privilege. Brownest nose this side of the Mississippi.
School records, resume, interviews with family and friends while Landry earned a security clearance. Clearances weren’t cheap, and many places hired someone who’d already earned the honor rather than have to cough up the money themselves.
On paper, he made one hell of a job candidate.
Why, then, was he sniffing around O’Donoghue? While O’Donoghue had connections, he didn’t have a lot of power. Not the kind guys like Landry wanted anyway.
But the man was such a fuck off.
And don’t you do your damnedest to be underestimated?
All the woman at Forsyth got out was “O”. Could she have meant Owen Landry and not O’Donoghue?
Landry didn’t have the skills necessary for a position of power.
Unless he bought his way in with a competitor’s product.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lucky turned left, then right, cruising through some of the less desirable streets in Atlanta, flicking his gaze from the street in front of him to the rearview mirror. The BMW he picked up five miles from the house followed his every move.
He loved his Camaro, especially since Bo had the whole thing restored for a Christmas gift, but he really, really wished he could ask the car to dial his phone for him via Bluetooth like Bo’s Durango could.
A red light gave him enough opportunity to call Bo. Calling while driving was only illegal if he got caught, right?
“Hey, Lucky! When will you be home? I’m making dinner.”
“Bo”—Lucky kept his voice steady— “I’ve got a tail I can’t shake. Silver BMW.”
Instantly Lucky’s home partner turned into his work partner, all steel and business. “Where are you?”
Lucky peered out the window at traffic signs. “I’m at the corner of Moreland Avenue and Key Drive, heading left down Moreland. I’m not leading them to the house, I’m doubling back to the gym.”
“No. It’s too far.”
“Suggestions?”
“The Raging Stallion isn’t far from you. If the car follows you there, you’ll know without a doubt it’s a tail. I’ll contact Atlanta PD for backup, and call the manager of The Stallion, give him the heads up.”
Lucky eyed the rearview mirror and the BMW stopped at another light two blocks back. “Okay. On my way.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Bo—” The call ended and the light changed to green. Lucky gunned the engine, setting a course for a gay club he no longer frequented.
