“So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Sparky? Thought you couldn’t meet until tomorrow night.”
Facing Mal somewhat sideways from the end of the island, Danny nearly dropped his fork as he shoveled noodles into his mouth. He finished swallowing his current bite, but his eyes darted to the countertop before he replied. A shadow of something fierce and angry flashed across his face, and the smile he forced when he looked up again didn’t fool Mal for a second.
“Plans changed. Needed a break. You sounded like a really good bad idea.”
Mal smirked. Danny obviously wasn’t interested in divulging more. Fair enough. “That, I can promise you, will always be true.”
With a grin, Danny dug into another bite of noodles, then offered the container to Mal.
“I’m good, thanks. But tell me,” he crossed to his liquor cabinet, “this going to be an ongoing occurrence?”
“Me eating your leftovers?” Danny asked with a tease at the corners of his lips and a glance down Mal’s body. “Or fucking you better than anyone else you’ve ever been with?”
A shock of desire stirred in Mal’s belly as he pulled down his whiskey bottle and poured himself two liberal fingers; this version of Danny he definitely wanted to see more of. “That’s pretty bold for someone barely old enough to buy me a drink.”
“Fuck you, I’m twenty-eight. And you’re what, thirty-five?”
Thirty-seven. Maybe Danny hadn’t delved that deeply into Mal’s police records. Turning to face him without answering, Mal took a sip from his drink.
“Besides, I thought we had some promises to keep.” Danny raised an eyebrow at him and popped an egg roll into his mouth obscenely.
Mal eyed Danny sitting there in just jeans and a T-shirt stretching across his finely-toned chest. Those promises would be worth every risk now that he’d gotten a taste, but he had to ask, “What happens the next time I pull a heist?”
“Admitting you’re planning one?”
“Cute. But you can’t con me as well as you think you can. You overheard me and Lucy at Pronto. Well played with the spilled drink, Sparky, but you had a plan in mind from the start, didn’t you?”
Danny looked momentarily flustered. Setting his fork down, he summoned that cryptic, playful expression that made Mal want to bend him over the countertop, no matter how spent he was. “Maybe. As for your next heist, we have an agreement, don’t we? Same rules apply. If I find out or get called in, I’ll try to stop you, but I won’t turn you over to the police as long as you don’t kill anyone, don’t hurt any innocents, and don’t tell anyone my identity. Deal? There’s no reason that should interfere with this.”
Huh. Mal hadn’t expected it to be that easy. But then maybe Danny wasn’t thinking this through. He had such a strong streak of good in him, he’d likely have a harder time separating business from pleasure than he expected. “Deal,” Mal said anyway. He’d offered as much as he planned to about his upcoming score, and even if it all blew up in his face, he still had eighteen days to enjoy the ride.
Danny finished off the last of one of the containers. He’d already finished one before Mal got downstairs. Plucking up another egg roll instead of the third container, he ogled Mal leaning back against the counter with his ankles crossed, one hand on his arm as he sipped his whiskey. “I like the suits. Like your leather. Like this too. Guess you just look good in everything, Ice Man. And nothing.”
Mal flicked his tongue along the rim of his glass. Danny understood all right—the game never stopped. “No mention of the duster, Sparky? I’m insulted.”
“Your costume overall is…cute.” Danny tilted his head. Ha—cute, he says. “But seeing you out of it, it’s hard to enjoy something that keeps you so fully covered, other than your arms. Maybe you could lose the duster, try things in just that skin-tight bodysuit for a while.”
“Like you? I don’t know, you think Andre would give me a discount on a redesign?”
Danny’s smile dropped, as if hearing the CSI’s name spoiled his dinner. The first time he’d spouted the names of his partners during a fight, Mal had thoroughly investigated who they might be. It wasn’t difficult to pinpoint the OCPD medical examiner and a CSI with those names. Now that Mal also knew Danny’s name, sometimes he looked into what they were all doing. It was in his best interest to keep tabs on the enemy, after all.
Pushing the last container away from him, Danny hopped off the stool. “I should go.”
Mal stood up straight to follow him. Whatever had brought Danny here tonight had definitely involved Andre Vaughn, that much was certain. Danny really needed to work on not being so transparent. “So soon? You haven’t eaten me out of house and home yet. A quick fuck and half a meal? Didn’t realize you were such a cheap date.” He set his drink down on the counter as he followed Danny to the door.
His comment prompted that lovely ‘I hate how much I like you’ smile that Mal always managed to goad out of Danny. “Fuck you,” he said again—and that should not have been as hot as it was, hearing Zeus curse so casually.
Cocking his head, Mal licked his lower lip. “Yes. You did. And I’m looking forward to round two.”
Danny chuckled as he finished putting on his shoes and stepped into Mal’s space, close enough that most people would have backed up a step. Mal didn’t. “And three and four and…however much higher you can count.”
“I can count pretty high.” In truth, Mal could win most games of pool by doing geometry in his head, calculating force and angles with adept precision. But Danny didn’t need to know that.
“I’ll call you.” Danny leaned closer.
“Maybe I’ll call you.”
“Maybe I’ll answer,” Danny bantered back. Then he kissed Mal, all heat and power and promise, with a gentle tug at Mal’s bottom lip with his teeth. “Be seeing you, Ice Man,” he said as he backed toward the door.
Oh, Mal could definitely get used to this, for however long it lasted.
ß
Danny considered for all of two seconds whether or not he should head back to the morgue. He was still too fired up, too buzzed on the thrill of sex and having Cho completely under his thrall. He knew he’d have to apologize to Andre eventually, but he didn’t want to deal with that now.
Looking at his phone, he saw that he had four missed calls from his friend. If there was a real emergency, Andre would have left a message. Right now, Danny just wanted to go home, put on something warm since he’d left his jacket at the morgue, and think about what his next play would be with Cho.
The thief was making it too easy. Danny had all of the control and Cho wasn’t even making an attempt to take it back. Not in any way that would work. Danny would let the man lead next time—he looked forward to it—but by then he’d already have Cho so twisted up in wanting him, Danny would still have the power no matter what they did in the bedroom. He’d make it so good, be so amazing to the man, Cho wouldn’t be able to imagine life without him.
No shred of guilt wavered in Danny’s gut concerning what he was doing. What else could he feel for Cho other than hatred? The illusive Prometheus was even planning to steal something again, couldn’t stop himself, always just a criminal at his core, a villain. Cho felt no remorse, so why should Danny? What more proof did Danny need that he would never, ever change?
Danny did hate him, and giving him everything he wanted only to take it away was going to feel so gratifying. Finally, Danny had the power Thanatos had taken from him when he killed his mother and Rick, terrorized the city for months, and pushed Danny so far past the breaking point that he’d…
No. This time Danny was the puppet master and he’d take his revenge on Cho for abandoning him that night. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.
Chapter 9
Danny walked into the morgue the next morning early enough to have a good half-hour to spare before his shift started at the pre
cinct. He’d messaged Lynn and Andre to meet him there. John had given him a stunned look when he bolted down the stairs to leave ahead of him for once. It helped that Danny had actually gotten a solid eight hours of blissful, dreamless sleep for the first time in months.
Carrying a box full of donuts and a drink holder loaded with coffee for him and his team, Danny felt invigorated. All thanks to Cho. Now he had to make things right with his friends, especially Andre.
“Danny!” Lynn said in pleased astonishment as he entered. She rose from her seat to meet him at the center desk where he set his offerings. Andre rolled back from his computer to look at Danny but didn’t get up. “I was worried when you asked to meet us this morning. This is a nice surprise.”
“Did you actually go to bed last night or come straight here?” Andre asked neutrally, eyeing the coffee and donuts—and Danny—with equal stoicism.
“How late did you two play last night?” Lynn raised an eyebrow as she claimed her customary fritter from the box then the coffee labelled with her name.
“Not late,” Andre said, fake smile covering the truth from her, “but Danny had some energy to burn afterward. How’d you decide to do that, anyway?”
“Oh, uhh…” Danny averted his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. “What did you call it before? Recreation?”
“Danny,” Lynn chided him.
Andre just stared.
“I slept great,” Danny said, but not as a challenge. He looked at Andre with pleading in his eyes.
“Well I for one don’t need to hear any details of the cause,” Lynn said, “but I will definitely enjoy the effect. Thank you, Danny.”
“Of course,” Danny brightened as he turned to her. “I know I haven’t been the best company lately. I just wanted to do something small to show you guys how much I appreciate what you do for me. During the day and off hours.”
Lynn smiled warmly.
Andre gave an inaudible but very animated sigh from behind her back. “Hey, Lynn? Can you grab the M.E. report on the Spillman case for me? I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything before I file my portion, and I can get through it way faster down here.”
“Oh, of course. Thanks again, Danny.” She set her fritter back in the box with a claiming bite already taken out of it and left the room at an unhurried pace.
Andre still didn’t rise from his chair. Plucking the other two coffees from the holder, Danny approached his friend with what he knew was his saddest, sorriest ‘puppy dog expression’, as his father once dubbed it, since, “You are not allowed to use that look on me when you’re in trouble, young man.”
He held Andre’s coffee out to him, a hazelnut latte from Pronto; no foam, extra whipped cream. “It’s your favorite.”
“So it’s hoes before bros now?” Andre crossed his arms. “And coffee’s supposed to make up for it?”
Danny would have laughed in any other situation. He knew he deserved this treatment, but he’d just been so angry last night. “You know how Lynn hates that phrase,” he smiled sheepishly.
Andre fought a twitch at his lips.
“I’m sorry,” Danny said with conviction. “The whole point of last night was to not get caught up in everything wrong inside of me lately. I turned it all back on you and that’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not.” Andre dropped his arms, his stony expression crumbling like a non-existent wall between them. “But it’s not fair what you’re turning back on yourself either.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you’re a killer—”
“Stop.” Danny wished he wasn’t holding the drinks so he could do something with his hands. They weren’t supposed to talk about it—ever. “This isn’t about that. Not only that.”
“Then what—”
“It’s everything. All the things I’ve done, all the things that have happened, just imploding and…” clenching his eyes shut, when he opened them again, Andre was watching him patiently, “…being a burden to everyone.”
“Danny,” Andre said in that sympathetic tone that Danny was getting so sick of hearing, “you’re not a burden to me.”
He wanted to believe that. He knew Andre cared, that Andre was his friend, but a persistent voice in the back of his head still parroted the same thing he’d been telling himself for months.
You wouldn’t feel that way if I wasn’t Zeus.
“You know you’re nothing like…” Andre started to say, but stopped himself.
“What?” Danny prompted.
The way Andre looked at him wasn’t sympathy; it was pity. “Nothing. Look, Danny, I didn’t mean to bring up Prometheus last night. Obviously, you have plenty of reason to hate on the guy. I do too. His gorgeous sister aside, he’s a thief, a criminal, and he turned his back on us when we needed him most. I’m practically president of the anti-Prometheus fan club—”
“I get it, Andre,” Danny interrupted; he didn’t want to talk about Cho right now either. “I’m sorry I blew up. It was stupid to get so upset.”
“No. It wasn’t stupid, it was…harsh. Maybe a little cold-hearted, no pun intended, but not stupid,” he said, causing Danny to crack a smile. “It’s okay, Danny. You’re working through some things, I get that.”
“But that’s not an excuse for me to be a dick to you. You being understanding doesn’t mean I don’t need to apologize.”
Andre smiled back at him, a little sad but better than looking at Danny like there was something wrong with him. “I appreciate that, man. And the coffee, which…is really starting to sound good about now.”
Danny coughed out a laugh as Andre eyed the drink in his hand. He held it out to him again, and this time Andre took it. They both downed a couple of much needed sips to clear their heads.
“Delicious,” Andre said. “Thanks. Really.” He reached out for a quick slap of their hands—front, back, fist bump. “So…wanna see what I worked on last night after you left? Or did you want to tell me about this girl whose bed you talked your way into? Heartbreaker.”
Darting his eyes to the side, Danny couldn’t help thinking, That’s the idea… “How about what you worked on? Sorry I left you in the lurch last night, but you ended up with a breakthrough or something?” He could tell when Andre was excited, even if he’d been trying to hide it up until now.
With the air cleared between them, Andre’s smile split his face, and he kicked away from his desk, rolling across the room to Lynn’s station, which still had the Camo suit resting on the end. He took another quick sip of his coffee before setting it aside. As Danny walked over, Andre stood and held up a simple black—well, it looked like a sack, but as Andre stretched it, Danny saw that it was a mask.
“I used the same printer we use for the Zeus suit, so same material with a few upgrades based on what I could figure out from Camouflage’s fabric.” As Andre tugged at the mask and turned it in the light, Danny saw how it shimmered—iridescent. “Think of it like being covered in dozens of tiny little mirrors.”
“To reflect the light.” Danny nodded.
“More than just light, dude. A combination of light, projection, and reflection—basically what I’m calling technochromes, which should make the suit work even better than what Camouflage does naturally. I’m still working on the right triggering mechanism, but for now, I have the mask connected to my tablet.” He grinned as he did some quick typing on the tablet next to the Camo suit.
The black mask in his hands shimmered more prominently, like a mirage or ripples in the air. When Andre pulled the fabric over his head, the technochromes kicked into full gear. Even Camo had occasionally revealed shimmers if Danny was looking close enough, but those were nonexistent as Andre stood before Danny—headless.
“Holy cloak of invisibility!” Danny laughed.
“Ichabod Crane, beware!” Andre boomed in a deep voice, spreadin
g his arms to show off his currently headless form, save the longer braids still hanging over his shoulder.
Danny laughed harder. “That is awesome. And seriously creepy. Please take it off and never wear it by itself again.”
A scream erupted from behind them, and Danny and Andre both jerked toward the door. Lynn stood with a panicked look on her face and a hand to her chest, while her other hand clutched knuckle-white at a crumple of papers. Just as quickly, her shock dissolved into furious anger.
“Andre!” she scolded. “I told you not to put that thing on again!”
A disembodied—or at least disem-headed—voice snickered, and Andre pulled the mask off with a guilty grin. When the fabric wasn’t stretched, the mask distorted his fingers with a faint flicker. “I may have already surprised Lynn with my accomplishment when she came down this morning.”
Lynn huffed dramatically.
“That is…” Danny bit back a laugh when he saw the challenging expression on Lynn’s face, “not funny, obviously. So not funny.”
“But useful!” Andre jumped in. “Imagine when I finish the entire suit. You’ll be super-powered and invisible.” He tossed the mask back onto the table and shut the program off on his tablet, leaving a small crumpled pile of shiny black fabric.
Lynn shook her head at them but crossed to Andre’s desk to deliver the paperwork he’d requested and to reclaim her fritter.
“Really cool, Andre,” Danny said as they moved to join her. “Can’t wait to see the finished product.”
“Wanna help me work on the rest of the suit tomorrow after work?” Andre asked. “You can still do a quick patrol first and be ready if anything comes up.”
“Why not tonight?”
Andre plopped down into his chair and arched a no-nonsense eyebrow while holding his coffee cup beneath his chin like a supervillain holding a cat. “Because. Tonight you’re going to family dinner.”
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