CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucky parked his butt in his favorite chair in front of his boss’s desk, or rather, his boss’s and Bo’s desk. If anyone ever needed to identify Lucky’s body one day, all they need do was match his carcass to his butt print in the chair.
He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. He’d stayed out damned late last night with Rett, and woke up far too early to an empty bed. His partner sat in a chair beside Walter’s desk, tablet computer in hand, and impeccably dressed in a suit.
In contrast, Lucky looked like he’d slept in his faded blue jeans and wrinkled T-shirt. He vaguely remembered shaving at some point in the past few days, but a quick hand swipe against the side of his face put the time at a minimum of two days ago. The SNB wasn’t paying him to be pretty; if so, they’d have fired his ass long ago.
Not hard to determine which side of the desk belonged to Bo. Wood shone through the ever-present pile of papers necessary to Walter’s world, on Walter’s side.
Old school all the way, he’d never give up paper for virtual records. Ever.
“Hello, Lucky,” Walter began, hands clasped together on a desk blotter, the only bit of clear space on his side of the desk. “I hope you don’t mind Bo sitting in.”
Did he? Kinda weird Bo being here and not sitting beside him, and he might scowl at Lucky for not telling Walter about last night’s plans in advance. Oh well, better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“I followed up on a hunch.” No need to throw Johnson under the bus. Yet. “Found something worth looking into.”
Walter’s bushy eyebrows rose. Bo gave good poker face, never glancing up from his computer, but he missed a beat in his typing.
“What have you found?” Walter steepled his fingers, hands on the desk. Lucky used to consider the pose “Walter in questioning mode”. After taking formal classes, he now recognized the pose as a non-threatening interrogation tactic meant to put witnesses and suspects alike at ease.
Should he be pissed at Walter for using psychology on him? Then again, after such a long career in drug enforcement, maybe the pose came naturally.
Lucky settled more fully into his chair, stretching out his legs in front of him until the toes of his boots touched the desk with a softthunk. “A warehouse on the edges of Atlanta that I think might be distributing illegal drugs.” He hadn’t spent most of the day looking through Georgia Board of Pharmacy records for nothing. Well, actually itwasfor nothing. He’d found diddly squat. “Heavily guarded, and they keep their employees under lock and key.”
“What makes you think they’re trading in pharmaceuticals?”
“We… I followed a delivery van from the warehouse, to the rundown apartment building where they keep their workers. Cardboard boxes changed hands. A few minutes later, a guy came out of the eight-story fire hazard with a suitcase, and drove straight to a doctor’s office.” Way too similar to the setup he’d recently investigated, with bikers selling a synthetic drug. He could live the rest of his life without reminders of the Corruption case.
The case that nearly cost him Bo.
“I see.” Walter stroked his smoothly shaven chin, darting a questioning gaze toward Bo and back to Lucky.
Bo placed his computer on his lap, steepled his fingers in a Walter mini-me pose, and brought the tips of his index fingers to his pursed lips.
Damn, he shouldn’t draw attention to his lips in a work setting. Lucky could all too easily picture those lips wrapped around his cock.
“What’s the layout of the warehouse security?” Bo asked.
“Four armed guards that I could see, chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Guardhouse controlling the gates.”
Bo remained quiet for so long Lucky would’ve thought him asleep if he didn’t know for a fact Bo didn’t sleep with his eyes open. “Easy enough to arrange a city inspection.”
Lucky nodded, pressure in his chest loosening. “That’s what I thought. I also want to check out the doctor’s office, but first things first.”
For long moments, Bo stayed silent, but the wheels in his brain ought to be squeaking. Finally, he said, “The same goes for the apartment complex. However, if something is going on, we don’t want to tip anyone off. They could pick up and move easily enough.” Bo stared at something above Lucky’s head. “That’s why an inspection is better than a warrant at this point.”
Walter nodded, giving Bo a fond smile. “I agree. Lucky, if proper channels don’t work, I have connections with the power company. We’ll arrange a little tour for you and Loretta.”
“Yes, sir.” Wouldn’t be the first time Lucky posed as a utility worker to gain access to a facility. He nodded to Walter, then to Bo, and retreated. “In the meantime, I’ll find out all I can about the doctor’s office.”
“I’d expect no less,” Walter said. “I want a written report on your findings thus far, as well as a draft of how you intend to conduct this investigation. Oh, and I want Loretta’s report as well.”
How had he known?
But being all-knowing was why Walter got the big bucks. Plus, he made things happen.
Not to mention the whole drug lords fearing him thing. In time, would they fear Bo too?
