The office wasn’t as large as Wal… Bo’s, a reasonable price to pay to avoid having a bunch of assholes answering to him. Lucky peered out the window. Not much of a view, but at least he had a window, letting in sunlight. Might be pretty during a rainstorm.
Simple. Office-issue desk, like so many others at the SNB. Two chairs facing the desk. A bookcase and a file cabinet. Lucky sat down in the padded chair and leaned back. Hey! He could lean back without ending up on the floor.
Time for someone else to deal with the Hell Bitch.
Bo propped against the desk. “What do you think?”
Lucky studied the blank walls. “I’ve been in a cube the whole time I’ve been here. Having a door I can close to keep the assholes out is definitely a perk.”
Bo shut the door and stalked across the floor, a mischievous smile on his face. “A door means I can do this.” He pressed his lips to Lucky’s, wrapping him in a firm embrace. Oh, hell, yeah! Lucky loved the door.
A few minutes later they broke apart. “What kind of asshole will I be working for?” The wrong boss might make life a living hell.
Bo put his arm around Lucky’s shoulder and ran his hand through the air, like painting a scene. “Imagine, if you will, the love child of Loretta Johnson and Walter Smith. Only… smaller. She looks like a sweet grandma type, but can kick ass and take names. Twenty years with SNB, and before then, undercover with Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.”
“When do I meet her?”
“Monday.”
Gave Lucky plenty of time to do background checks.
“Trust me. You’ll like her. Reminds me of an older version of Charlotte.”
“Lord help us all.”
Bo laughed. “Yeah. I agree. Between the two of you, you’ll have drug dealers fleeing Atlanta in droves.”
If only it was that easy.
Lucky stared out his office window at a sunny day. Down the street and as far as he could see, trees sported green leaves. Cars leaving the business district, heading for home, formed endless lines of start and stop traffic.
Finally.
Quiet. Peace.
Boxes holding his belongings sat around the desk and in the two guest chairs. Time enough to unpack later.
A FedEx package had arrived two days after O’Donoghue’s death, and now lay on Lucky’s desk. Photos, dates, times, names, copies of documents. All sent to him by Landry before their final meeting. They didn’t need the extra evidence against O’Donoghue after all. The nightmare finally ended. It was over.
Or would it ever be? Always some new asshole thinking they were above the law came along to ruin Lucky’s day. Ruining theirs instead made the job worthwhile.
That and making Bo and Walter proud.
He rifled through the evidence again. After all his screwups, in the end, Landry tried to do right. And he’d paid with his life. Lucky shoved everything into the envelope and stashed it in his desk drawer.
Enough thinking about the past. Time to move on.
He sat in his desk chair and called up the PowerPoint presentation Lisa sent him on his laptop. Photos of Walter through his years with the SNB. Even the one of him and Victor Mangiardi having lunch together, the photo used to make Lucky doubt his mentor once upon a time. The years progressed until Lucky appeared in the pictures, all cocky hostility.
Like Walter, though, Lucky’d changed over time. Softened. Learned to love and trust the man in the pictures with him, until the last one of them together showed both smiling, Walter’s arm thrown over Lucky’s shoulders.
Walter Smith, who’d saved Lucky from prison, gave him purpose, helped him move forward and get a life.
Introduced him to Bo. Now, Walter held the proud title of honorary grandpa to his and Bo’s kids. Lucky emailed the presentation to Charlotte’s computer, to allow her time to set up for the evening.
Bo tapped on the doorframe. “You ready?”
The new Director of the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau’s Department of Diversion Prevention and Control made Lucky’s insides trip over themselves with one glance. Blue suit, silk tie, every hair in place—his clothes one shade lighter than Lucky’s navy-blue official SNB polo shirt. Anyone walking into Lucky’s office would think him professional, clad in the SNB’s official uniform.
