“She’s really latched onto you, hasn’t she?” Smart girl.
Bo collapsed into one of the chairs and scrubbed a hand over his face. “She doesn’t have anyone else, and hasn’t in years. Her father forced her into the situation she’s in, and last time she went home, he wasn’t there and someone else lived in the house. All her things were gone. Without the traffickers, she has nothing. Poor thing is terrified, and worried what will happen to her child. She can’t even support herself, and says her life is over when the men controlling her find her again.”
Fuckers. “We’ll have to make sure they don’t find her then, won’t we?”
Bo sniffed the air and nodded toward the bag. “Smells good. What did you bring me?”
Lucky placed the thermos on the end table next to Bo and took a seat on the other side of him. “Waffle House was the only place I found open.”
Pulling the to-go tray from the paper bag, Bo gave Lucky another brief smile. “Thanks.” He shook the fork out of the bag and pounced the greasy potatoes and cold toast with all the finesse of a seagull attacking a French fry.
Poor guy must be hungry.
Bo stopped with the fork halfway to his lips. “What about you?”
“I ate already. That’s for you.”
Between bites Bo told more of the story. “From the time she was fifteen until last year, a cartel used her as a drug mule, trafficking whatever they gave her from Mexico City to Houston. The men who gave her drugs in Mexico and the ones meeting her at the airport didn’t have much power. They were cruel and liked to act big, but she said they received lots of phone calls, although she couldn’t hear the conversations.” He placed the fork on the tray. “After sending her back and forth across the border more times than she could count, they brought her here to Atlanta and put her to work. She’s terrified of going to jail. I told her that wouldn’t happen.” The earnestness on his face said he meant to keep his word. “She wants to go back to Mexico, but not Mexico City, where she lived before.”
“I’m sure something can be arranged.” Cruz already imparted some of that knowledge, and Lucky paid particular attention to the details. Except for the part about the baby’s father, her story hadn’t changed, and he couldn’t blame her for her reluctance to tell a stranger what happened. Now came Lucky’s turn to report the situation that occurred once Bo departed the warehouse. “After the two of you left, one kid jumped out of the window. He’s… he died.”
“What the hell? We were on the second floor.”
“He got away, ran up the stairs.” Lucky winced and took a deep breath, willing the horrid image from his mind. One moment the kid lived and breathed. The next…
One single second. Life and death. How many times since then had he wished for a do-over?
Bo shook his head, appearing older than his years. How Lucky wanted to hold him, offer comfort. But Bo was in Boss mode, stepping into his role as the future manager of the SNB.
“I don’t know why he ran. They explained to him that he wasn’t in trouble.” Lucky sank back into his chair and closed his eyes. He’d had some hellacious days. Today must count as two. “I was too slow to catch him. One more second…”
“You can’t blame yourself, any more than you can blame yourself for these kids being in this situation to begin with.” Bo patted Lucky’s thigh, lingering over the last pat.
Ouch. Direct hit. Lucky opened one eye. “I can blame myself. I was part of the problem.” A long time ago, but still. Had there been any kids like that guy and Yolanda who’d had their lives turned upside down by his and Victor’s operation?
There must have been. Like the child in Mexico who’d lost his father in a cartel shootout. Or Alejandro, who’d turned against his own brother to help Lucky.
Alejandro, Johnson, Bo, Walter, Charlotte, Ty. People who cared about Lucky.
He cared about them too, though he’d never told Alejandro.
“Was.” Bo kissed Lucky’s nose. “Now you’re part of the solution.”
Nice of him to say, but kind words didn’t take the ache from Lucky’s heart. Like it or not, he’d done his share of damage to people’s lives.
If given a choice between a drug trafficker and Lady Justice, the lady made a whole lot better employer. Even if she did take the form of a mountain of a man named Walter Smith.
“What’s going to happen to the girl?” Lucky tossed his head in the general direction of the rooms.
“Don’t know. She doesn’t have local family, or family in Mexico either. I’ll go to bat for her with the SNB.” Bo turned his intelligent brown eyes on Lucky. “She’s your informant, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“She only speaks Spanish. How’d you communicate?”
Oh shit. He knew he shouldn’t have lied by omission. Whenever he tried, the lie came back to bite him in the ass. “Got time for a long story?”
Bo checked his cell phone. “Why don’t you give me the condensed version.”
