Besides, he refused to believe Candace’s warnings that there was some looming betrayal or elaborate tricks planned, not with Dalton involved. He wanted to enjoy himself and follow Ford’s orders to the letter.
He liked following Ford’s orders.
How raw his right butt cheek was proved that, and he blushed at the memories from yesterday. He couldn’t afford to become that same sex-starved deviant tonight. They had a job to do, and distraction was dangerous. Like the slower kisses and embraces that had started to increase the more they were together.
Pacing closer to the pickup counter, anxious for his name to be called, Andrew noticed a familiar head at a table around the corner and stopped cold.
Olivia again.
This was the coffee shop close to Avalon and Ford’s offices. He’d never known her to frequent this place, but without his order finished, he was forced to stand there, not quite hidden enough from her table if she glanced up and—fuck. She saw him.
And dared to look happy about it as she wandered over as if she’d been waiting for him.
“Breathe, Andrew,” she said, just as perfectly polished and beautiful as she’d looked the other day. “You’d think I was the Wicked Witch with the way you look at me whenever we run into each other. Or is it Wicked Bitch? I never did apologize, did I?”
“No,” Andrew choked on the sharp retort he’d had ready, “you didn’t.”
“And I’m not apologizing now. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I’m not sorry for being pragmatic.”
Wow. “You are unbelievable.”
“So why don’t you try being pragmatic?”
“What?” Andrew just wanted out of this conversation.
“You’re working that Avalon case, right? With Ford?”
“Are you serious?” Andrew snarled. “You think I’d tell you—”
“This thief has been all over town,” she whispered. “The police may be trying to keep it under wraps, but the uptick in burglaries can’t be ignored.”
“I can’t talk about an ongoing case with the press.”
“You’re not a detective anymore.”
“And whose fault is that!” he erupted, drawing a few turned heads, which made him burn with embarrassment. He tightened his fists to calm down. “The tenuous relationship I still have with the PD would be ruined if the same shit that forced me to quit starts happening again.”
“You should be thanking me.” She smirked.
“Excuse me?”
“Admit it.” Closing the space between them, Olivia reminded him of all the reasons he’d found her so alluring—that take no prisoners, all in control presence.
Like Ford.
“You were miserable following in Daddy and Steven’s footsteps. You’re happier on your own.”
“That we can agree on.” Andrew made it clear that he didn’t only mean for work.
“You’re so mad I used you.” She moved closer, practically pressing to his chest, almost a full foot shorter than him, but still a powerhouse. “Use me a little. I’ll promise not to print anything about a serial robber until after the police or Vallancourt make an official statement, and you corroborate a few details.”
This was the worst kind of déjà vu, but as Andrew opened his mouth to tell her off, he remembered how relentless she was. Olivia was a shark. Giving her a controlled something might be better than giving her nothing and having her keep showing up unwanted or printing details that could hurt them.
“Ford and I are revamping Avalon’s security.”
Her eyes widened. “You are working together.”
“You can’t print that. He’s worried about his enemies finding out he’s…” Shit, Andrew had to stop before he said too much.
“Gone soft? Everyone knows he’s in security.”
“He’s trying to protect someone.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you that. He’d kill me.”
A sigh puffed between her darkly painted lips, eyes glittering with cunning. “What if I print that Avalon is using an outside consultant to up their security after the heist? I don’t even need to say your names. Printing that could scare the thief off if you’re worried they’re going to try again. Or, if it doesn’t scare them, it might get them out of hiding. I’m guessing that’s what you really want.”
“That…actually isn’t a bad idea,” Andrew said, since they hadn’t discussed how to set the bait for their impending trap. “We’re working on security tonight. I’m going to meet Ford right now to go over the plans.”
“I can have the story on the streets tomorrow. Perfect timing to lure this person for round two.” She smiled in triumph, as conniving as she was smart, but Andrew couldn’t deny the plan made sense.
“Okay. But no mention of me, Ford, or Dalton Wellesley.”
“Wellesley?” she asked curiously. “Why not? Isn’t he the lead researcher on the project?”
“He is, just…avoid his name. Stick to Avalon, Vallancourt, any quotes about the research itself, but not him, okay? He’s a friend of mine, and I don’t want to risk him being targeted.” That was true without pointing any fingers between Dalton and Ford, right?
“Why would he be targeted?”
Shit. “Liv…”
“No more questions.” She held her hands up in surrender. “Thank you. Whatever else you might think of me, Andy, I really never wanted you to get hurt.”
His chest ached. “Just not enough to put me before your job.”
“If that makes me a bitch,” she shrugged, “I’m okay with that.”
“Wen!”
Andrew’s attention darted to the counter, and then back to Olivia. “For what it’s worth, I am happier. But don’t expect that to mean I’ll ever be happy to see you.”
She smiled with an understanding nod, and he nodded back. He should still be angry. He was angry. But somehow, this felt like some of the closure they hadn’t gotten before.
Andrew felt a little lighter heading out with his two cups of coffee. He just hoped Ford understood his thinking with having a story printed for tomorrow’s headlines.
* * * *
That…actually wasn’t a bad idea.
Isaac had initially been upset, but something in the papers could bait their thief just like they wanted. If it scared them off entirely, even better.
Plus, it was adorable that Andrew had once again brought coffee for their meet-up. Even dressed in black to fit the role of faux thief—black jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket—he brightened up the section of the building Isaac used as his apartment with his mere presence.
The living quarters was between the offices and the garage, a simple open living room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms. Where they stood now, by the sofa, was almost exactly where Isaac had first met Dalton, just cleaner now, with new furniture and a few flares of Isaac’s personality shown off if one were looking close enough.
Like the entire boxsets of the original Star Trek series, Next Generation, all the offshoots, and the movies, which he caught Andrew eyeing.
“Trying to butter me up?” he asked as he sipped from his coffee.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Andrew’s eyes kept darting around to take it all in, since he’d never been inside Isaac’s offices before, certainly not the part he lived in. “Maybe a little sugar and caffeine will make you less of an asshole.”
Isaac’s lips twitched with a smile.
“Don’t count on it,” Luke’s gruff voice preceded his entrance, stalking swift and lumbering across the room to join them. “You’re Wen, huh? Can’t believe you two are fucking.”
“What?” Andrew’s eyes went wide with a flash of betrayal. “You told him?”
Isaac may have neglected to mention that he’d deemed this a three-man operation, but he did know how to keep mum. “No, Andrew. You just did.”
His eyes somehow went wider.
“I just figured.” Luke shrugged with a curt once-over of Andrew’s slender form. “Younger than I t
hought. Fake dating part must make it fun.”
Isaac had told him that. It was bound to come up otherwise.
Luke grunted at Andrew’s impressive blushing routine and reached for the other drink on the coffee table, which was definitely not meant for him.
“That’s—” Andrew tried, but he was too late before Luke took a sip.
“Gentlemen,” Isaac said, as amusing as Andrew’s pout might be, “we have a lot to discuss before show time. Shall we?”
Between the various schematics, notes, and everything else Vallancourt had provided via Dalton, Isaac had never been so prepared for a not-heist in so short a time in his entire life, but that didn’t mean he was going to play this sloppy. The point of the venture wasn’t only to gauge how poor Avalon’s security was or how the original thief might have gotten in, but to document where there could be improvements, especially where it pertained to their trap.
The security guards had no idea about the planned break-in, only Vallancourt and Dalton, so it would be like any other night, meaning they could trip an alarm or get the cops called if something went wrong. Isaac wanted to avoid that, even if Vallancourt would have their backs should they get caught.
Once they had the basic plan down, there was time to kill before they needed to head out. Luke went off to gear up and do his own thing for a while, but Andrew glanced around like a middle school kid at his first dance.
“I, uhh…might run to the gas station or something for a bite to eat—”
“Already covered. Dalton tends to overcook. There are leftovers in the fridge. Help yourself.” Isaac pointed across the way to the kitchen.
“Oh.” Andrew stopped his backward momentum with a pleased smile. “Thanks.”
Isaac followed him, partially because he too was due for a bite, but also because he knew Andrew was keeping a keen eye on his surroundings and the path to the kitchen would lead him right past—
“Oh my God.” Andrew came to a skidding halt when he saw the glass case around the corner. “Is this what Dalton mentioned? That isn’t a comic. It’s The Shadow Annual from 1942!”
Despite the otherwise mundaneness of the building, a place of honor had been set aside for Isaac’s pristine copy of the old pulp magazine.
“No wonder you keep it under glass.” Andrew approached the case with the proper gait and reverence. “In this kind of condition, it’d be worth…I can’t even imagine what this is worth. You must have paid—” he cut off as soon as he glanced at Isaac. “You stole it, didn’t you?”
“Now, Andrew, before you assume I took that off some poor devoted geek-boy who’d had it passed down for generations from his grandfather, it was at an estate auction.”
“You actually bought it?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny…” he trailed off with a grin.
Andrew laughed, awkward middle school dance nerves assuaged. “The class I tutored Dalton in? I did my final project on The Shadow.”
“For Art History?”
“Why not? My dad used to play me recordings of the radio show when I didn’t want a normal bedtime story. Steve wasn’t as big of a fan.”
“Aren’t gruesome murder mysteries a tad much for a young boy?”
“Mom wasn’t too happy when she found out, but I loved it, even when I had nightmares.” With another chuckle and longing look at the enshrined magazine, Andrew continued into the kitchen.
He proceeded to extract every container of leftovers from the fridge, before looking them over guiltily as if asking permission. Isaac snatched the one he wanted for himself, and then spread his hand over the others to indicate Andrew could knock himself out.
“I always tried to figure out the mysteries before the Shadow did,” Andrew said, beginning to stir the contents he’d chosen for his meal and getting the containers into the microwave. “I loved all the fantastical elements, his powers that were mostly really subtle, so he also had to be a good detective. I was more inspired to join the force because of him than Steve or Dad.”
“Must have been hard giving it up,” Isaac said.
Andrew gave him a measuring look, like he expected him to be teasing, but Isaac kept his expression neutral to prove he wasn’t.
“I really didn’t choose security to spite you.”
Andrew laughed again. “I know. Maybe sometimes the real reason I get so pissed at you is because you’re so good at something that I wanted for myself. Security can have its own mystery to it, like what we’re working on now. I mean, I never do things like this—planning a fake break-in—but it is exciting. Feels a little like an old noir story.”
“Complete with homme fatale?” Isaac tilted closer.
“Maybe,” Andrew bantered back.
The beep of the microwave interrupted, and Andrew retrieved his now steaming containers while Isaac replaced them with his.
“Expecting some dramatic treachery, Andrew?”
“I don’t want to. But I guess it’s human nature.”
“To expect betrayal or to enact it?”
“Depends on motivation. When there’s nothing worth wanting but something for yourself, it’s hard to see beyond being selfish. But when you have something worth fighting for,” Andrew smiled like he had Isaac all figured out with the arrival of Dalton in his life, “your perspective changes.”
“What people want changes. Doesn’t make us any less selfish.”
“Maybe, but the bad guy isn’t always black and white, not even for the Shadow.” Andrew continued smiling around his first few bites, chuckling and finally quoting in a hilarious parody of a deep announcer voice, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?”
Isaac played along, less ridiculous but still deep and rumbling as he finished, “The Shadow knows.”
Andrew giggled, lighting up like a dream, so much younger than he usually allowed himself to appear. “Do you ever take it out?”
“That’s a bold question.”
“The book.”
“I know. Still bold.” Isaac ignored the intermittent beeps as his leftovers signaled their end too. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“I do, however, have a copy worth absolutely nothing when I want to remind myself of the stories.” Isaac first claimed his food, and then opened his junk drawer to take out a beat-up old copy of the same magazine that he’d found at a comic shop and paid a whopping five dollars for. Half the front cover was missing, and the pages were all faded, but it was readable.
He handed the copy to Andrew, and despite its roughened state, Andrew excitedly started paging through it as soon as they moved to the kitchen table, like it was some glorious prize.
Watching him, amused by every snicker and gasp as Andrew read, Isaac tried not to think about how, despite all their romps together, he’d finally bought Andrew dinner.
Then suddenly Andrew stopped.
“What?”
“Are my T-shirt and sweats here?”
Isaac almost dissolved into laughter when Luke appeared in the doorway.
“Are you going to enjoy your date all night or are we hitting the road?”
Date. They both took a moment to recover from that.
“Sorry.” Andrew set the book aside with a shamefaced shrug. They’d finished eating a while ago, but somehow, Isaac had lost track of time.
“Just making sure our new recruit doesn’t faint on the job,” Isaac said. “Let’s get going.”
“There’s one thing you left out of the plan,” Andrew said on their way out the door. “The original thief didn’t leave any evidence of how they got in. So, how are we going to?”
Luke chortled, while Isaac flashed a grin.
“You’ll see.”
* * * *
Timing was everything, especially when avoiding a camera above an entrance into a building that should have been one of the most secure places in the city. They had seconds to get to the door, break the lock, and get inside, and it was all up to Ford, who’d p
romised, given the type of door, that he knew how to breach the defenses in moments.
“There’s only one entrance with a rotating camera. Other cameras might have caught the door opening, so this has to be the way the thief used. And I think I know how they didn’t trip any alarms.”
It was the ‘think’ part that worried Andrew, but he trusted Ford, more so with this than with anything else.
“Twenty seconds. Starting…now!” Ford dashed across the alleyway to their entrance of choice, and Andrew followed, with Luke right behind him. They were not as inconspicuous as a single thief would be, even in the dark, all in black, but the smug smile Ford graced Andrew with as they reached their destination was a comfort.
Until it couldn’t be anything but annoying when the high-tech tool Andrew expected Ford to pull out was nothing more than a can of compressed air. After spraying the air through the lock, the sensor blinked from red to green, admitting them into the building before the camera could return their direction.
No alarms. No forced entry.
But it was just so…
“Amateur?” Ford answered his incredulous expression. “I agree. Vallancourt needs to upgrade her egress doors to—”
“Electro-magnetic, I know,” Andrew said. He knew the tricks too. He just hadn’t expected the answer for this entry to be so simple. The passive infrared sensors on the inside of the door had reacted to the compressed air the same way they would if a person on the other side was trying to get out, a safety precaution, and any evidence left behind would swiftly evaporate.
The thief must have done the exact same thing.
Inside, the normal elevators weren’t an option. That would be far too suspicious, but there was a freight elevator outside the view of security. They just needed to reach it, take it up, exit without the guards noticing them, and make it across the floor to Dalton’s lab. With the blueprints and security guard schedule, it should be easy.
Assuming the mystery thief had done the same with similar intel, gloves would have prevented fingerprints but didn’t explain the lack of fibers. Latex gloves wouldn’t leave fibers, but what about the rest of their clothes?
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