Bo stood in the far corner, bending over a desk, cell phone flashlight beam shining at something. He returned to Lucky. “Got everything?”
“Enough to get a warrant with no trouble, as long as we don’t let on where we got this stuff.” Could Bo make creative use of the truth to the higher ups? So not Bo’s thing. Walter bringing a known felon on board made more and more sense by the day. Sometimes lines had to be crossed for the greater good. Lucky never saw the line as solid, more as… broken in places.
Kinda like the interstate express lane.
“Leave that to me.” Bo spoke casually, not like a man bending laws to the breaking point.
Mr. By-The-Book Bo losing a few scruples? Only right, given how much time he’d spent with Lucky.
Lucky turned off his flashlight, cracked open the door, and peered out into the warehouse. All quiet. He motioned to the others. One by one they slipped from the room.
Footsteps sounded across the vast warehouse. Fuck! He grabbed Bo and yanked him back against the wall. Where the hell was Johnson? Had she heard the approaching footsteps? Those steps were too slow and irregular to be hers, besides, her tennis shoes wouldn’t make so much noise.
A flashlight beam cut the darkness, and a voice called in broken English. “Stop. Who’s there?” At least, that’s what the words sounded like to Lucky’s ears.
He held still, keeping his breaths shallow.Keep going. Nothing here to see.With any luck the guy would think he’d heard a rat or something and leave the way he’d come.
The footsteps came closer to Lucky’s hiding place. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He coiled, ready to spring. Bo’s hand on his wrist held him back.
Clang!“Ooof!” The flashlight hit the floor, spinning, beam creating a maddening kaleidoscope against boxes and drums, coming to rest on Johnson, holding a fire extinguisher and staring down at the floor.
She shrugged. “I think I broke him. They don’t make guards like they used to.”
Nope. Small and scrawny. Possibly shorter than Lucky.
Bo crouched, fingers under the man’s chin. “Just out cold. Maybe concussed. He’s going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up.”
“What the ever-loving hell are we supposed to do with him?” Leaving him there and getting the hell out got Lucky’s vote.
Bo scooped the man up in his arms like he weighed nothing. “We’ll say we were driving by and found him in the road. If he’s up to something illegal, he’s not going to say otherwise.”
With Lucky checking the path ahead, they managed to get outside and back to the car without running into anyone else. Only nine thirty, so one guard who wouldn’t leave his post unattended until the other guards arrived, giving them a thirty-minute head start until anyone missed the one Johnson brained.
But they’d miss the bus if they left now.
Literally.
Maybe another night.
***
Bo stopped by Lucky’s cube. “The guard came to shortly after we dropped him at the hospital, but we can’t get anything out of him other than he’s been working there for about three weeks.”
“Undocumented?”
Bo nodded. “Yes. I.C.E. has him in custody. Apparently, Loretta didn’t hurt him too badly.”
“Shame. She shoulda knocked some sense into him, gotten a confession.” US Immigration and Customs Enforcement didn’t normally play into Lucky’s cases.
Welcome to the new normal.
“That would be too easy.” Bo settled into the chair across from Lucky, at the desk he used to call his. “What’s next?”
Lucky’s first instinct screamed at him to keep quiet. Oh hell, Bo’d already caught him in the act, helped him even. “A van shows up every night shortly after ten. I want to know where they go. Plus, a bus brings the workers to the warehouse, then they leave again. I plan on tracking down where they go.”
And figuring out how drugs from the warehouse found their way to Ty’s school. “I’m still waiting on lab results from all the bottles we brought in.”
Bo nodded. “Didn’t you say the workers don’t stick together after leaving the apartment complex?” Lucky spilled the details of his case last night after they’d dropped the guard at the hospital.
