He finished his meal and showered, trying to minimize the damage to Viv’s work. Not that he’d need a disguise today, but he half expected her to jump out of the woodwork, brandishing a curling iron.“How dare you destroy my creation!”
Yes, the SNB undercover ops needed a Vivienne of their own, and maybe Jimmy’s brother too, for fighting skills. Bo survived the Corruption case by using his fists.
Lucky gathered up all he intended to take with him, retrieved his crucifix, stalked out of the room like he owned the place, and crossed the parking lot to his truck.
“You back there?” he asked, as he slid beneath the steering wheel.
“Yup,” Bo replied. “We gotta hurry this up. Whoever owns this truck needs to do some airing out. I mean…”
Smelled fine enough for Lucky to have passed out like a light and slept a few hours while Cruz’s man drove. Ten AM, Saturday morning, and he kept to I-85, checking his mirrors often for flashing lights. At a rest area, he pulled over. He and Bo got out, one of Cruz’s men got in.
Johnson pulled up in a car Lucky’d never seen before. He sat up front with Johnson, while Bo climbed into the back.
“Here.” Johnson handed him a canister of wet wipes and a ball cap.
Flipping the mirror down, Lucky got to work re-Lucky-fying himself. “What’s the latest?” he asked her while scrubbing the fake scar with a wet wipe.
“Walter has called you and Bo into the office for an emergency meeting at two, along with O’Donoghue. When the truck gets stopped, we’re keeping our eyes on O’Donoghue.”
“Oh, and Keith’s got so many cameras set up we had to borrow from Atlanta PD,” Bo added. “We’re watching every move. O’Donoghue can’t scratch his nuts without us knowing.”
And… the perverse part of Lucky’s mind considered scratching his nuts for the hell of it, as a message to Keith, who’d have to see the gesture. Walter and others also bearing witness to such a display scrapped the idea before it fully took root.
Bo leaned up as far as the seatbelt allowed, resting his elbows on the two front seats and eyeing Johnson. “How’d things go with Southwestern, Rett?”
“Oh! Man, the old team, the ones who ain’t quit yet, do not like Garrison and Diaz at all. They’ve given me so much dirt. The house of cards falls today.” No hiding the glee in her voice.
“Good. Everything set?”
“Yes. Jimmy and I will be backup, while you attend your meeting. Keith is already there, set up on another floor. All you have to do is make the man sweat.”
Lucky’s phone rang. Who the hell would be calling him at this hour? “Harrison.”
“Ah,mi amigo.I have a gift for you. Come to…” Cruz gave Lucky an address. Lucky repeated the directions while Bo punched it into his phone’s GPS.
Then he recognized the address.
They met at Chastain Pharmaceuticals, greeted out front by the man who’d done some of the driving for Lucky while bringing the truck from Mexico. So eerie being there. A funeral wreath hung on the front door. No security guard behind the desk.
What would become of the place with the owner now gone?
Chastain, whose only crime was owning a company that created a drug to make so many diabetics’ lives easier. A game-changer, that he wouldn’t hand over to some corporate giant to turn into a cash cow. The research lived on. Maybe one day, the product might still hit drugstore shelves.
They rode the elevator on their way to the familiar conference room where they’d met Chastain and his executives before, giving the business a clean bill of health.
They stepped into the conference room.
Cruz sat on one side of the conference table, fresh and clean-shaven. Vivienne and another woman filled chairs beside him.
“How the hell did you get here so fast?”
Cruz grinned. “We have a private plane. Sure you don’t want to join us?”
Of course, they had a plane. International task forces confiscated planes, yachts, and mansions, not chicken-shit green Malibus and rusted-out mobile homes.
Johnson settled into a chair across from mystery woman, while Lucky plopped down in front of Cruz. Bo sat between Lucky and Johnson, opposite Vivienne.
Cruz presented the guard and Vivienne, then waved a hand at the other woman. “Allow me to introduce another of my team. Elsa works closely with Viv.”
Bo responded with a wide smile. Yeah, he’d be asking Viv for blackmail material on Cruz too. No, wait a minute. The good guy image Bo projected meant all necessary dirty work fell to Lucky. When you excelled at something… “Vivienne, it’s very nice to meet you. I’ve seen your handiwork. Great job on Lucky.”
Vivienne dipped her chin in acknowledgement.
“Viv is an expert in disguises,” Cruz said. “Elsa has a similar specialty.”
Johnson sat up straighter in her chair. “What’s that?”
Elsa spoke softly, a hint of an accent in her words. “Technology and special effects.” She gave an evil grin. “I have gifts for you, Mr. Harrison. They could save your life.”
