Amazing he himself survived to adulthood. He’d done some pretty stupid shit.
Lucky searched the known databases for reports of such overdose cases, and found nothing. Didn’t prove anything. If a kid lied about taking meds and the doctors felt no need for a drug test, overdose symptoms might be misdiagnosed as any number of ailments.
He straightened the glasses he’d never let anyone see him wearing and kept looking.
***
An unfamiliar car sat in his driveway when Lucky pulled up. Oh shit. What now? Was it too much to hope Ty invited a friend over?
A rich friend? Whose parents trusted him with a late model Corvette? At least Salters drove a Nissan, ruling him out.
Maybe one of Charlotte’s new friends from her craft meetup.
He eased the door open, hand inside his computer bag on his gun. Of course, if whoever the car belonged to meant no good, Charlotte likely had ‘em hog-tied and duct taped before they’d made their way past the living room.
Charlotte sat in the reclining chair, giving the guy on the couch one hell of a lot of side-eye.
The man in question laid on the charm, slicked back hair forming dark waves, and bright smile lighting up his handsome face.
A wasted effort on Charlotte, who’d learned at an early age that “good-looking” and “avoid at all costs” often traveled hand in hand.
Smart woman.
Quills on a porcupine, rattles on a snake, a good-looking man not afraid to use his charms to his advantage. Yep, how nature said,“Do not touch.”
Granted, this particular man would have been hard for many to resist, skin the shade Charlotte used to spend hours in the sun to achieve, wiry build, and blinding smile.
For all his good looks and flirting skills, Lucky wasn’t buying what the man sold either, with Mangiardi blood flowing in his veins. “What do you want?” He scowled at Cruz, the might-be-an-agent who’d saved Bo, helped Lucky out a time or two, but who still hadn’t earned Lucky’s trust.
Not fully.
Hermano, Cruz had called him, “brother.” Yeah, Bristol had been his brother too, and see how their relationship turned out.
Still, a niggling of guilt hit the pit of Lucky’s stomach. He’d never told Cruz thanks. Had he? Oh well. Too late now.
“Mi amigo!” Cruz grinned. “Is that any way to greet a trusted friend?”
Lucky withdrew his hand from his backpack and placed the bag on the floor. Shooting Cruz would only piss off Nestor.
Not that Lucky had much reason to take aim at Cruz, but he’d had one too many shots of Cruz’s gringo-baiting during his time in Mexico. “What. Do. You. Want,” Lucky ground out from between clenched teeth. Owing the guy didn’t exempt him from being an insufferable pain in Lucky’s ass.
“Nothing. Since when do I need a reason to drop by and visit my favorite fighting rooster?” Cruz’s bleached white smile ought to come with an imminent blindness warning. He cut his eyes sharply to the left, away from Charlotte. “I just happened to be in the area.”
Oh. “Charlotte, I see you’ve met Cruz. He helped me and Bo out in Mexico.” Lucky hadn’t told her all the details of the case from hell, but enough for her to know he and Bo tried to put the whole incident out of their minds.
“Really?” She dropped the hot coal of hostility and flashed a tentative smile of her own. “In that case, it’s nice to meet you, Cruz.” She slid her hand out from under the chair cushion, leaving one side hiked up enough to conceal a gun.
“The pleasure is all mine, Senorita Lucklighter.” Cruz reached for her fingers, likely ready to kiss her hand.
She yanked her hand back, cradling her fingers against her chest.
Time to step in before the situation escalated. “Uh, Charlotte. Can I have a few minutes alone with myfriendhere?”
“Sure. I’ll take Moose for a walk.” She disappeared into her room and returned with a jacket. A light jacket. Spokane still got the occasional flurry, likely making Georgia downright balmy in comparison. The moment she grabbed the leash from the front closet, the dog who’d ignored a stranger in the house, and who’d been performing a darned good imitation of a throw rug in the corner, hopped up and darted toward the door.
Hard to tell which Lucky preferred: the dog knocking him off his feet the moment he came in the door at night or the critter a few obedience lessons turned into a poster child for doggie Valium.
Charlotte clipped the leash into place and vanished out the door, Moose tugging her along. She might as well put a saddle on the beast and ride him. At least he was moving. Sometimes the dog slept so hard only snores let Lucky know the critter wasn’t dead.
