CHAPTER 20
One advantage of driving a shipment from Valle Hermosa was taking a side trip to a certain cantina to sample some of Graciela’s good cooking. Lucky patted his belly. One more tortilla and he’d be unable to walk.
What a change in Yolanda, happy, much healthier-looking, and more at ease than Lucky’d ever seen her. She smiled at the pictures of Alejandro, told Lucky, via Cruz, about her studies and life with Graciela and a chance for a future. She’d even begun to make friends, and saw a counselor.
She asked to keep the picture of Bo, Lucky, and Alejandro. “Mi familia,” she said.
Judging by the hugs, smiles, and rapid-fire Spanish, Vivienne and Graciela knew each other well, and Vivienne spoke at least three languages fluently. Four, if you counted Southern. Cruz stayed out of the way. “Isn’t she something?” he must’ve asked Lucky a thousand times.
Yes, but still not Bo.
Viv touched up Lucky’s appearance, refusing to tell embarrassing stories about Cruz. She whispered into Lucky’s ear, “Maybe next time,” and winked. “Now, don’t mess with the makeup until you get to Atlanta. Then you can be you again.”
Lucky and Cruz video-conferenced Walter and Bo a few times, though no one commented on Lucky’s changed appearance.
“O’Donoghue’s getting antsy about something,” Bo said.
God, it was good to see him, if only on a computer screen. Lucky didn’t dare say all he wanted to with Walter and Cruz participating in the call. “He should be antsy. We’re about to take him down.” About damned time too.
“Now, Lucky. Remember to keep an open mind. Don’t let your preconceptions blind you.” Walter, the voice of wisdom, advised.
For the next few hours, Asswipe O’Donoghue was the least of his problems. “About time for me to drive a truckful of sorghum across the border.”
Bo laughed. “Sorghum?”
Cruz shrugged. “Tell enough people it’s oxycodone, and they start to believe.”
About show time. Lucky took one more look at Bo.
Bo kept his voice professional, but a little something extra hid in his words. “Be careful, Lucky.”
Yeah, I love you too.
Lucky waited in line at customs, six A.M. on Friday, on his way across the Mexican border. He’d slept in the back of a van while someone else drove the truck, so he’d be able to drive eleven hours non-stop—the limit. They changed drivers two miles from the border.
“Good luck,hermano!” Cruz slapped him on the back and climbed back into the van.
Lucky expected to be pulled over and the vehicle searched. Instead, a custom’s official took one look at the truck, checked out the tag, and waved him through.
“Smile, asshole. I got your picture,” Lucky grumbled under his breath. Good thing they hadn’t stopped him—they might have wanted a share of the tamales Graciela packed him for the road.
No one bothered him until he got to the state line. Just before he left Texas,Brrrrpt!Lucky found a spot to pull over, a highway patrolman right behind him.
Lucky handed a worn leather folder containing his bogus license and registration—and a microphone—out the window while polishing off his last tamale. Almost made him want to head back south.
The officer checked both documents. “Sir, where are you heading?”
Lucky dredged up his best good ole boy accent. “Way up there in New York.”
The officer strode back to his car and climbed in. The moment he entered the tag number and Lucky’s license, he’d set off the trail of dominos. Now to see if anyone took the bait.
He stayed in his car a long, long time. Lucky couldn’t wait to hear the conversation between the dispatcher and the patrolman.
After a million years—or maybe twenty minutes—the officer returned, face an angry red. “Everything checked out. You’re free to go.” More quietly he said, “It pisses me off that you get a free pass, but unless I want to wind up face down in a ditch, I’ll do as I’m told.” He stalked back to his car. Interesting. This officer might have something to add to their case, like a few more names for their suspects’ list.
Lucky called the boss on the burner phone he’d gotten from Cruz. Walter picked up on the first ring. “Walter Smith.”
“Boss, it’s Lucky.”