Diversion 1
by
There are good guys, bad guys, and then there’s Lucky.
Former drug trafficker Richmond “Lucky” Lucklighter flaunts his past like a badge of honor. He speaks his mind, doesn’t play nice, and flirts with disaster while working off his sentence with the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau. If he can keep out of trouble a while longer he’ll be a free man–after he trains his replacement.
Textbook-quoting, by the book Bo Schollenberger is everything Lucky isn’t. Lucky slurps coffee, Bo lives caffeine free. Lucky worships bacon, Bo eats tofu. Lucky trusts no one, Bo calls suspects by first name. Yet when the chips are down on their shared case of breaking up a drug diversion ring, they may have more in common than they believe.
Two men. Close quarters. Friction results in heat. But Lucky scoffs at partnerships, no matter how thrilling the roller-coaster. Bo has two months to break down Lucky’s defenses… and seconds are ticking by.
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Publisher: Rocky Ridge Books
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 3
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Alpha Character, Antihero, Bad Breakup, Badass Hero, Coming Out / Closeted, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, In Uniform, Office / Workplace Romance, Opposites Attract, Pretend Boyfriend / Girlfriend, Sex Buddies Become Lovers
Setting: American South
Languages Available: English, French, Japanese
Series Type: Continuous / Same Characters
What the fuck was going on down there?
Once the parking lot nearly emptied of all but a handful of cars, Elledge charged out the clinic door. Dr. Ryerson tottered on spiked heels behind him. Orange-tie-guy came next, wrestling with a pissed-off pharmacist.
Bo kicked and flailed with his elbows, and landed a solid head-butt on his captor. Holy shit! They had his hands tied behind his back. Dear sweet lord, no.
I will fucking kill you for that, you bastard!
Bo shrieked his outrage. Elledge whirled and smacked him across the mouth with the flat of his hand.
Ready to rend Elledge limb from limb with his bare hands, Lucky laid down on the horn.
Move your damn ass!” he screamed at the van’s driver.
READ MORETo Walter he shrilled, “They’re going mobile, in the SUV. If Keith has ever done anything right in his life, get him tracking that damned piece of shit. Ryerson’s with them and they’ve got Bo. And no, Bo isn’t going willingly.”
He pounded his hand against the steering wheel. “Move it, move it, move it!” The van inched up and Lucky gunned the engine. Metal screeched against metal as the two vehicles traded paint. The brake lights of the Tahoe glowed crimson and the hulking vehicle slowed to turn left, two blocks away.
“Lucky, what are you doing?” Walter kept his voice low, as usual, but he didn’t sound happy.
“I’m going after them.”
“Lucky, stop! This is out of your hands. We’re tracking, and will have the team there in five minutes.”
“They’ll be too fucking late.”
“I order you to abandon pursuit. Right now! This is not your fight!” For the first time in eight years Walter raised his voice.
Lucky ignored the order. “It is my fight, damn it. They’ve got my partner.” He tossed the phone to the passenger floorboard. Both hands on the steering wheel, he tuned out the steady, “Lucky? Lucky? Lucky, answer me, damn it!” squawking from the floor.
He punched the stereo button. Canon exploded from the speakers.
Many times in the past he’d pushed his driving limits: when stealing Victor’s car, the first time he’d jacked a load in Chattanooga. Those times faded from memory. Lucky clutched the steering wheel in a death grip, entire being focused on catching and stopping the SUV.
He recognized the moment they spotted him. The top-heavy Tahoe swerved sharply to the left. It wobbled and tipped, then righted and accelerated. The eight cylinder engine put the Mazda’s four cylinders to shame.
Lucky switched the car from automatic to manual to gain a few more RPMs. The heavier vehicle leapt ahead, and Lucky shifted hard, spurring every bit of performance available from a car not designed for high speeds.
The SUV cut off a car and tore across lanes through a red light. Blaring horns sounded drivers’ displeasure. Lucky’s shoe hit the floor, coaxing a few more miles per hour out of a high-mileage car already pushed to the breaking point.
He slammed on brakes and fishtailed, barely missing a pickup truck that screeched to a halt in front of him. Swearing up a blue streak, he threw the car into reverse. Tires scratched on the asphalt. Spying an open spot of road, he dropped the shifter into gear and resumed the chase. He nearly stopped breathing when he finally got free. Fuck! Where the hell was the SUV? Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement—a black blur, streaking down the highway to his left. He pulled his lips back in a feral grin.
“You can run, but you can’t hide, mother fuckers!” he snarled.
In the distance sirens wailed, but he couldn’t afford to wait and see if they meant friend or foe. Whipping the car down an access road, he had a clearer shot at open asphalt, sans red lights, and raced parallel to the Tahoe. If they thought they’d lost him they might drop their guard.
The SUV veered sharply, almost toppling. The driver swerved into the parking lot of an abandoned shopping center, slowing enough to let the Mazda gain ground. Lucky had nearly reached the lot when the Tahoe hit a speed bump. The back door popped open. A body tumbled out.
Bo hit the ground hard, bolted upright, and ran. He stumbled, hands still tied behind him. Bobbing and weaving, he made for the nearest building, in what seemed to Lucky to be slow motion. The Tahoe spun around in a cloud of dust and squalling tires, aimed like a giant weapon at Bo. He’d never make cover in time.
“Oh hell the fuck no!”
Lucky stomped the gas. The tires spun, scratching for purchase on the cracked asphalt. The Mazda grabbed hold, a four-wheeled missile launched across the lot on an intercept course.
He didn’t slow down.
Wham! Metal hit metal.
Lucky jerked like a rag doll. His head whipped back, then crashed into the steering wheel. Wetness slid over his forehead.
An airbag slammed him full in the face. He clawed the plastic out of his line of sight.
He tried to focus. Why the hell was he staring at the bottom of a vehicle? His vision tunneled to a pinpoint. Oh shit. He’d done it now. Disobeyed a direct order. Walter was gonna kill him.
Pain shot through one arm. As the world went black, he whispered, “I love you, too, Bo.”
COLLAPSEOnce again, Eden Winters has demonstrated why she’s one of my “must buy” authors: I swear Diversion is her best yet. With some plot points ripped straight out of the headlines and shaped deftly into a story that is uniquely hers, and vivid and offbeat characters that riff perfectly off each other, this was a book I had to read more than once.
Lucky’s got pride in a job well done, well hidden under the delight of “sticking it to the man” in a sanctioned fashion, but his cocky attitude and unrelenting banter are the prickles he uses to keep the world at a distance. Lucky is a giant pain in the ass in a banty-rooster body: he carves carrots into penises if asked to make the salad and drinks the wine straight from the bottle. He twists everything, and keeps the heat on Bo, who isn’t shy about handing the guff right back.
What starts out as straightforward lust coupled with “give the newbie as much grief as possible”—Lucky needles Bo endlessly with jabs at his vegetarianism, his education, and need to get laid—morphs over time into feelings that Lucky can’t identify clearly. His “give a shit” button has been broken for so long that he’s having trouble recognizing the symptoms of caring, either for Bo, or for his work.
The story is told completely from Lucky’s POV, which seems uncommon in a romance of this length, but we have no trouble knowing Bo, who has layers of pain and complexity that come out bit by bit. Lucky is also a man of layers: his private sorrows are exposed a fragment at a time, each tidbit building on what we know already, and explaining perfectly why he hates his job and yet is so good at it, and why he keeps the world at bay. That he can let Bo in, a millimeter at a time, is only slightly because of time healing wounds, but even more that Bo can know him, understand him, and accept all the horrible parts without judging. They fit together so beautifully by the end of the book, without losing an iota of the smart-assery.
The external plot revolves around drug diversion, where prescription pharmaceuticals are removed from the legitimate supply chain and sold to abusers. This is a real and huge problem: Ms. Winters touches on several ways it can be done, from out and out hijacking a truck to real doctors writing real prescriptions for imaginary ailments and enormous, ‘unsuitable for good medical practice’ quantities. She keeps up a fast pace, keeping me highly interested, a bit horrified, and terrified that somehow Bo and Lucky’s sting operation would go wrong.
Lucky and Bo are one the side of the angels now, but Lucky’s criminal past is what makes him so useful to the fictional agency he works for: the fox is guarding the henhouse because he knows all the ways in and out, but he’s wearing a collar. His descent into crime unrolls slowly as flashbacks, contrasting with his current life, which he’d like to escape as completely as he’d like to escape his past. Bo’s story is a little more conventional, his private demons encouraging him to take solace in the temptations that surround him at work. Neither is in the enforcement end of the pharmaceutical industry because they wanted or planned it: all they can do is make the most of it. (And each other, Lucky would add.)
The secondary characters such as Walter and Dr. Ryerson are fully fleshed and vivid. The villain of the piece is three dimensional—one can see both the desperation that created the situation and the ruthlessness that exploits it. Even a character that never gets face time has a realness to him through Lucky’s pranks, smarting off, and inner dialog.
The ending brought lumps to my throat, and all I can say is I needed that epilog!
Very highly recommended: this book works on a lot of levels, and, oh yeah, Bo and Lucky sizzle together. Two words: assless chaps. 5 Marbles
