CHAPTER 23
So, Landy’s arrival surprised O’Donoghue as much as Lucky. Again, how the fuck had Landry gotten into the building without anyone knowing?
Maybe Lucky wasn’t the only one with shiny new techy toys.
“Jameson.” Landry acknowledged his former boss with a slight nod, still aiming his weapon towards Lucky’s head. “’Bout time you joined the party.”
Jameson Fucking O’Donoghue. “I knew it.” Lucky should shoot them. Shoot them both. But he needed to keep them talking, and hope surveillance caught a confession.
Then there was the issue of one gun lying on the other side of the table, and possibly getting shot while reaching for his ankle holster.
“Shut the fuck up!” O’Donoghue barked, holding up a wand Lucky recognized as belonging to the bureau, based on the distinctive asset tag affixed to the side.
He held his breath as the major pain in his ass approached. Please let O’Donoghue still have the defective equipment Keith gave him.
Slowly, O’Donoghue swept the wand up and down Lucky’s body, and made his way around the conference room. “The place is clean.” He stared at the wand, then at Lucky. “Good.” His superior smirk got on Lucky’s last nerve. “You’re so paranoid. But how is it you put it? ‘Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn every now and then.’” Lucky’s current worst enemy sauntered past the head of the table.
Leaving Lucky nearest the door. Could he hope to sprint…
O’Donoghue shifted his attention to Landry. “Do you honestly think you’re the only one who wants this piece of filth gone? My sights weren’t set as high as yours—yet—but I have friends who pay nicely for the strings I can pull within the SNB.” O’Donoghue jerked his head toward Lucky. “I’ve spent years building a solid career. It took this asshole ten minutes to derail my plans.” He shrugged. “Go ahead, Owen, shoot him. It’ll be the best show I’ve seen all year.”
Lucky usually liked being right, insisted he was never wrong.
How he wished he’d been wrong about O’Donoghue. “Killing me won’t be worth the grief you’ll get.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” O’Donoghue’s shark smile roiled Lucky’s insides. “You see, while your coworkers put up with your sorry ass for Schollenberger’s sake, and the sake of Walter and their jobs, they have no love for you. Except maybe Loretta Johnson, and it’s no secret what she did to the father of her child. Or the most recent boyfriend who’s rotting behind bars without so much as a visit. Her loyalties change with the wind.”
Lucky didn’t need her in the room to hear her,“The hell you say!”loud and clear in his head.
He wouldn’t mention Philip Eustace’s parents dictating the no visitation policy. Let these two sorry sons of bitches keep talking. So much evidence.
Bo had to be nearby. Andro, Charlotte, and Ty were supposed to be at the Smiths’, who expected the family for Sunday dinner tomorrow. Then, there was the baby, the unknown little person due into his life soon.
Lots to live for. If O’Donoghue wanted him dead, he’d have to work for it.
Landry took out most of the cameras. Was it to throw O’Donoghue off if he conducted a sweep, like he had of the conference room? But Landry couldn’t know about O’Donoghue’s faulty RF detector.
Still, there had to be a reason he picked this room for the showdown. Maybe he had his own ways of hiding signals. For the sake of his sanity, Lucky clung to the belief that the camera and mic in this room still worked.
If Landry truly wanted to clear his name, with any luck he’d tease a confession out of his former boss. Lucky still wore a personal mic, even if his earpiece now lay somewhere in his cube. Landry hadn’t searched him, and hadn’t mentioned the earpiece. Maybe he hadn’t seen it. He certainly hadn’t looked for a mic.
Then again, if Lucky came to work for a meeting, why wear a mic?
He eased back, one half-step at a time, putting enough distance between them so he could flip one of the heavy mahogany pieces that made up the massive conference room table. Or duck beneath.
While Lucky retreated, O’Donoghue advanced on his former employee. Landry took a step towards his old boss. Maybe, like a magnet, the DEA man’s ass called to Landry’s nose.
Brown-nosing weasel.
Keeping himself facing forward, Lucky checked his peripherals and took another half-step towards the door. He stopped when two sets of eyes fixed on him.
“You know it won’t just be Bo, Walter, and Johnson coming after your asses, right? You know I have powerful friends, don’t you?” Why keep former drug lords in his life if he didn’t intend to use them?
“What’s he talking about?” Landry asked.
O’Donoghue shrugged. “He’s got ties to an international task force, a bunch of petty criminals like himself. They’ll be no more problem than he is.”
Victor? Nestor? Petty? Oh, hell no. Did O’Donoghue hear himself? He’d met Victor, and not too long ago. Surely the man didn’t really believe the bullshit pouring out of his mouth.
