“Anything for you?” God, please let Bo not get pulled back into undercover ops.
“I asked for assignments close to home until after the baby’s born.”
“What?” Charlotte dropped her spoon into her bowl. She ignored the soup splashed onto the table. “I thought you had an office job now. No more assignments.”
Lucky should’ve kept his mouth shut.
Bo scrubbed a hand over the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks. “The administrators decided that Walter’s position needed to be filled by someone with more experience. They picked Jameson O’Donoghue.” He managed to say the words without a single ounce of sarcasm.
“What?” Ty joined his mother in dropping his spoon. “They gave the job to you. They can’t take it back now.”
More calmly than Lucky could’ve, Bo replied, “They can and they did. Special circumstances and all that. They cited how the department went downhill the last year, but they stopped short of blaming Walter.”
Were the assholes calling the shots going to make Walter end his career on a sour note? “Not his fault, and I wouldn’t put it past O’Donoghue to have engineered the whole thing.”
“Smells so good. I’m starving.” Bo tucked into his soup, effectively changing the subject.
Ty got in one last comment: “That sucks.”
Lucky tiptoed out of the nursery in boxers and a T-shirt, leaving the door open a crack. Unnecessary, really, when Andro possessed such a good set of lungs. Even the neighbors could hear him wake up in the night.
Bo sat in the bed, covers pulled up to his waist and laptop on his lap. He managed a tired smile. “What a day.”
Lucky stooped and picked up a toy truck from the floor. Just his luck, he’d find it with his foot in the middle of the night and go sailing. He placed the truck on the dresser and rounded the bed to his side. “Can you believe the nerve of O’Donoghue? Bo, you were given the job. Now, they plan to just take it back.” Lucky reserved his right to return to his original opinion of O’Donoghue: a useless waste of skin.
Come to think of it, his opinion really hadn’t changed much.
Bo shrugged. “Circumstances changed.”
“Yeah, but we got a free pass on the fraternization thing. Now they want to bring up our relationship again.” Wasn’t there some kinda thing like if he’d already been tried for a crime, they couldn’t try him again? “I could always quit.” Lucky lifted the covers and crawled beneath. Oh, but the bed was heaven after the day he’d had.
A bed with Bo in it.
Though not Moose, who’d pretty much moved in with Charlotte, and Cat Lucky, who’d abandoned them for Ty.
Bo narrowed his eyes, voice low. “You don’t mean that.”
“Like hell I don’t.” If it guaranteed Bo running the show? Oh, yeah.
“Then they’ll have won.” Bo pushed his chin up, drawing his line in the sand with attitude alone. No moving him now.
He made a good point. “We could always bring in Victor and Nestor.” If anyone could dig up dirt on O’Donoghue, those two could.
“That would be… unethical.”
“His stealing your job is ethical? You still can’t convince me he didn’t know exactly what Landry was up to, and there’s no question he was behind this whole ‘needs more experience’ thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if Landry and O’Donoghue had dinner together last night.” He’d promised Walter he’d leave the DEA man alone, but someone needed to pry into his background.
“Lucky. This comes all the way from the top. O’Donoghue has the job, I’m back in undercover ops. End of story. I just feel bad for Walter. He looked forward to retirement. Now he worries what it means for the department.”
“Wait! He doesn’t trust that asshole either?”
Bo rolled one shoulder. “Those aren’t the words he used, but no, he doesn’t trust the man. I don’t know what’s changed.”
Lucky lifted the laptop from Bo’s lap, put it in sleep mode, and placed it on the bedside table.
“Does that mean you’re finished talking about work?” Bo’s smile offered no appearance of The Dimple.
“For now.” Lucky glanced at the bedside clock. “I figure we got three hours or so before His Lordship wakes up and wants a bottle.” Lisa sometimes pissed him off by bragging how her little boy started sleeping through the night at three months. Andro might be eighteen by the time that happened here.