“There you go.” He wished. Johnson’s concerns wouldn’t be that easily put to rest.
“There’s no markings on the bus. Maid For a Day advertises the hell out of their services, drive around in panel vans with their logo on the side. Even running the bus’s plates led to a dead end. No matter how I try, I can’t track down the owners, or find out anything about the company. I keep ending up with shell corporations.”
Wow. She’d done her homework. Were she officially still a rookie, he’d have to give her a gold star or some shit. Her findings didn’t rate a warrant, but if she felt strongly enough about what she’d seen to perform her own investigation, he’d check things out. Besides, though she wasn’t a rookie anymore, seeing all her evidence might convince him to give her more responsibility. “Have you told anyone else about this?”
“Does my gran count?”
“Maybe.” Lucky couldn’t picture the elder Mrs. Johnson gossiping though. More than likely she’d grab a pistol and act as Johnson’s backup on a raid.
In his experience, retired teachers might make some damned fine agents. They paid attention to details and didn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit.
Because Rett asked for help, he’d do what he could. Besides, he’d love to shirk the newbies for a few hours and, given her descriptions, he’d be suspicious too. Of course, someone merely crossing the street raised his suspicions most days.
Paranoid worked well for him. Why change? “Any idea what time they go to work?”
Her expression brightened. Likely she’d take the words as a yes to Lucky helping. “Late. The bus gets there between nine and nine-thirty most nights. Comes back around five a.m. The train doesn’t run all night, and neither do the public busses. I’ve waited at the MARTA stops, but they never go there in the morning.”
“Our guarded bus is picking them up from wherever they go.”
“Yep.”
“And you’re sure they don’t operate in daylight hours? Ever?”
“Nope. Nights only.”
Nights, the realms of vampires, evil-assed palmetto bugs, and folks up to no good. And night shift workers, the poor bastards.
Best case scenario? They’d hang out a few hours and go home empty-handed. Worst case? Lucky fought off a shiver. Weekends might mess up the suspects’ schedules, and Lucky needed time to plan. Better to handle initial surveillance on a weeknight. “Meet me in the parking garage at eight Monday night.”
“Really?” The tension eased from Johnson’s face and a smile broke through. “You’ll go with me?”
“Yeah. Who knows what we’ll find?” He’d never in a million years tell her all she had to do was say,“Lucky, come with me.”
The instincts both he and the boss counted on for years told him he’d find something.
Something bad.
CHAPTER SIX
Sex on demand was still sex, but the niggling at the back of Lucky’s brain gnawed away some of the pleasure.
One glance at Bo’s smooth skin and taut muscles stretched out on the bed and Lucky’s libido told his brain to shut the fuck up.
White sheets, smooth skin, holding on to last summer’s tan way up into the spring of a new year. Bo’s slightly damp, dark hair fanned out over the pillowcase, and he studied Lucky’s every move with heavy-lidded eyes.
Lucky stripped in record time and crawled onto the bed. Bo’s skin smelled as warm as it felt, hints of cologne, soap, and the underlying musk of pure Bo.
Lucky rested his weight on his arms, hovering over Bo, teasing with barely-there swipes of lips against lips, and pulling away when Bo tried to deepen the kiss.
A grin spread across his face. For years now they’d danced this tango, and the steps never got old. Every gasp, every wriggle of Bo’s hips ignited fires deep inside Lucky’s body.
Time hadn’t lessened his desire for this man one iota. Rather, mutual respect brought a whole new layer to their loving.
Bo ended the teasing by gripping the back of Lucky’s head and rising up, sealing their mouths together.
Forceful Bo was Lucky’s favorite Bo.
He opened his mouth, granting his lover entrance, swirling their tongues together in a well-practiced two-step that nonetheless caused a lightning strike straight to his groin. God, he loved this man, would never tire of him.
