Well, fuck. Confession time. He filled Bo in on Johnson’s suspicions, about Cruz’s involvement and bribing Charlotte not to tell Bo. The last part came the hardest.
“Lucky. Now more than ever you have to trust me. I should’ve been with you when you first approached her. Initiated contact.” He didn’t sound annoyed or accusing, merely resigned.
Which didn’t necessarily signify forgiveness, and might mean groveling later. “You’re busy learning your new job. While I don’t like pulling the big dogs into one of our cases, the outfit Cruz works for has a much farther reach than ours.” He wouldn’t mention Walter telling him to leave Bo out of things. Without a doubt Walter had his reasons.
“It’s not involving Cruz I’m talking about.” Bo rubbed his temples with the thumb and little finger of one hand. “Damn it, Lucky. You can’t keep things like this from me.”
He knew that, really Lucky did.
Bo looked up. “But I know it’s not your style to tell me every little thing, especially now when you think I’m in a position to stop you. You’ll forever push the limits. That’s who you are. One of the reasons I love you. Just make me one promise.”
“What?” Let it be an easy promise to keep.
“That you’ll at least let me know what you’re up to. What you do reflects on the department. Your instincts are good. Walter trusts them, but I can’t go through life worried about you, that you’ve crossed some kind of line you can’t come back from. What if I’d let you and Johnson do recon alone that night and you never came back? I’d never know what happened to you. I can’t live like that.” Bo took Lucky’s face between his hands. “If our places were reversed, you’d want the same from me.” One moment they stared into each other’s eyes, the next moment Bo closed the distance, mouth on Lucky’s, tongue against tongue speaking louder than words of Bo’s love.
Lucky took the kiss, his heart swelling with his love for this man.
A quiet “A-hem” broke them apart.
“Mr. Schollenberger?”
A young nurse stood at the waiting room entrance in hospital scrubs, with fiery red hair and green eyes. “Hi. I’ll be taking care of Yolanda. I was told you wanted to see me.”
Lucky took his cue to retreat and let them talk. After a moment Bo said, “Go on home. I’ll be there in a few.”
Before he’d gone more than a few steps, Lucky turned and focused on his partner, seeing him, truly seeing him, with different eyes.
Bo radiated authority, tempered with caring, genuine concern. He could be home in bed, but here he was, staying up most of the night for a woman he didn’t know.
Because she needed him.
As Lucky did. What would his life be like without the man? What would he have done after the SNB if Bo hadn’t talked him into staying?
He’d be one hell of a miserable bastard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cases? Okay. Getting scum off the streets? Awesome. Writing up reports?
Sucked stump water.
Especially with half his desk taken up with old coffee cups and the rest filled by a pair of huge feet attached to his work partner—who hadn’t broken anyone else during the raid.
That he knew of.
And fuck if he gave a damn about Johnson’s raised eyebrow when he put on glasses. Sooner or later he’d have to suck it up and go to an actual eye doctor.
Damn, was Lucky ever tired. Yeah, tired made his eyes blurry, not age.Dream on.
One late night raid, and three days of follow up. Ten arrests so far, twenty-four people from various countries in protective custody, and one would-be pharmacist likely begging Grandma for bail money.
Plus, one pregnant woman in the hospital.
Not his problem. SNB dusted their hands of the matter and turned over the cleanup to other three-letter agencies. Normally, doing legwork for someone else to take over a case pissed him off. This time?
Good riddance.
Now to show his trainees the raid footage and get back to work. Like figuring out how the poison got from point warehouse to point high school.
