Two women she’d been observing exited the vehicle at a stop on Marietta Boulevard. There was a mall nearby. He called up records of the cleaning service used. Smiling faces appeared onscreen. He sent the photos to Johnson. Maybe she’d recognize someone. They all seemed happy and well-dressed in crisp uniforms.
She hadn’t mentioned uniforms. A moment later she texted back.“They aren’t the ones.”
Of course not. That’d be too easy. He drew a map using her information. One thing for certain, he and Johnson would be all over damned town tonight.
To save time, he loaded up the SNB van and drove his trainees around some of the area he’d scope out later.
Fuck, plenty of tall buildings. Checking staff rosters for each and every employee in those buildings might take a lifetime. He’d hoped for only a few hours.
He and his trainees had practiced stealth techniques in an abandoned building for way too fucking long when, at long last, the shift ended.
And not one fucking word about Charlotte from Salters. Maybe the asshole finally came to his senses.
Lucky didn’t say anything through dinner, waiting until the family settled down in the living room to mention, “Rett needs my help on a case. We’re meeting up tonight.”
Bo raised his brows. “What case is she working?”
Damn. Bo’s new position with the SNB made him privy to all the goings-on. Did Johnson have a current case, other than helping with training? “Don’t you know?”
“No. Walter must have given her something.”
Ah. Good. Unless Bo asked the boss. “She said if she told me, she’d have to kill me.” That sounded like a Rett answer, right?
“I could handle a workout. I’ll ride with you and put in some gym time while you’re busy.”
Fuck. “We won’t be at the office. I’m meeting her at her apartment.” God, but Lucky hated lying to Bo, but keeping his man out of the loop on this one meant plausible deniability later.
Bo slumped back onto the couch. “Oh. Well, don’t stay out too late.”
Lucky leaned over the back of the couch and kissed his man. “How could I, with such a hot guy waiting at home?”
Ty wrinkled his nose. “Eww… gross!” With every ounce of teenaged drama he could muster, he mock hollered, “Mom, tell them to stop making out in front of impressionable minors!”
Impressionable minor, Lucky’s ass.
“That’s not nice,” Charlotte scolded, not bothering to look up from her latest attempt at a hobby—needlepoint this time. Three fingers sported Band-aids. “Love is love. You will not be a homophobe…”
“Jeez, Mom. I was just kidding. Would you rather me tell them to continue so I can pick up some pointers?” The little asswipe grinned.
Lucky near choked on his need to laugh.
“That boy is too much like you,” Bo grumbled.
God help them all if Ty turned out like Lucky.
After a parting kiss, Lucky sauntered across the floor and out the door. The moment the door closed behind him, he braced a hand against the wall and released the laughter he’d barely reined in.
***
Johnson’s Jeep sat in its normal spot in the SNB parking garage. She got out and wandered over to Lucky’s car, a thermos in one hand, two cups in the other, and pocketbook slung over her shoulder. As usual on stakeout, she’d dressed casually, in jeans and tennis shoes, her shirt hidden by her puffy dark blue jacket. She’d pulled a baseball cap with no logo down over her braids.
“Damn, but I’m tired,’” she said, getting into the passenger seat.
“Good, ‘cause I got a rule. No being perky in my car,” Lucky growled. He’d rather be pretty much anywhere but cruising bad parts of town tonight.
Johnson’s weary smile faded. “Suit yourself.” A few moments of quiet ended with the sound of splashing liquid. Rett handed Lucky a cup of coffee. “Decaf, just for you, but first chance we get, this girl needs caffeine.”
Despite her claims of being tired, she practically bounced on the seat. Ah, the thrill of the hunt. Like hell would he risk the perky factor with caffeine. “Tell me where we’re going.”
