He could afford another minute to muse about Danny Grant before he returned to the schematics for the museum they’d be hitting in a few weeks. Once the heist was pulled off, if a certain electric hero caught wind of it and showed up, that could put a damper on whatever games they played, but it still gave Mal almost three whole weeks to delve into just how debaucherous Danny wanted to get.
They’d left things on a sour note before, but clearly Danny wasn’t holding any grudges. He wasn’t looking for dinner and dancing either.
Mal hadn’t had a worthwhile fuckbuddy in… He’dneverhad a worthwhile fuckbuddy. He had one night stands. Bad ideas. Never anything consistent. Of course for now Danny had simply made an offer. Consistency was still up in the air.
The screen of Mal’s phone went dark from inactivity, and he tapped the corner of it on the surface of his worktable. Three weeks—nineteen days, to be exact, which Mal always was—before the heist was set to take place and he’d take possession of one of the most lucrative items he’d ever gone after.
The Winterheart Diamond; overly large, worth millions, on loan for only a few short months. He’d been planning this heist since before Thanatos was defeated, as soon as he heard about the diamond’s tour taking it through Olympus City, practically tossing a come-hither wink his direction to please rescue it from its boring captors at the museum.
Maybe Mal would keep this one, prominently display it somewhere in his best safe house. He’d prefer to exhibit such a treasure in his home, but that was where he was more careful, only showing off items he knew could never be traced as stolen.
He wasn’t as familiar with Olympus City’s history museum as other institutions in town, but it was small, which meant fewer exits to worry about and lower security, though they had stepped things up with the diamond’s arrival, including a new night guard. With Lucy having acquired a finely crafted knockout gas from a reliable chemist—no casualties planned, just precision—the final pieces were falling into place. Mal could use a break. A rare, long nightin.
He could finish poring over these schematics tomorrow.
“Thai food, Mickey?” Lucy called across the room as she entered the cramped workspace, holding a familiar takeout menu.
“Sounds perfect, Luce,” Mal suppressed a smirk. “I’ll head out after. You know what I like.”
“You’re going home at a decent hour for a change? Usually when we’re this close to a heist, you burn through the night at both ends. And not in any fun way.”
She dropped the menu on the worktable and leaned on her arms on top of it, dressed in a low-cut black top that reminded Mal of her Gaia suit. Lucy’s costume was form-fitting like his but without the high collar, and she wore a more billowy sleeveless cloak with a hood rather than a duster, forest green and patterned with fleur-de-lis.
“What’s his name?” She nudged him with a playful, knowing look.
“None of your business.”
“Ooo, but you’re not denying there’s a ‘him’ involved. Do I know him?”
Mal dropped his phone on the table and fixed her with a raised eyebrow.
“Fine,” she huffed, knowing well when she could and couldn’t swindle more from him. A corner of her lips curled up and she held out a hand. Slowly, a green tendril grew out of her palm like a slithering snake, eventually sporting two perfect leaves and the blooming blossom of a red rose. “Make sure to be a gentleman,” she said as she handed it to him.
Accepting the flower, Mal coated it in a thin sheen of ice from his fingertips like it had been ambushed by the first frost.
“Jerk,” Lucy scowled.
“Brat.”
They’d been playing this game since she first learned how to make plants grow. “Nice to know I left an impression at least,” she said.
Snatching up the takeout menu again, she pulled out her cell phone and started dialing. The place down the street could have food at their door in ten minutes—and knew not to ask questions or give any details to the police about delivering to a building with an unmarked door at the end of the block like a boarded up pawn shop.
“But if this guy is cute,” she said as the line started ringing, “and you screw him more than once, I get a name.”
“Such a thoughtful, attentive sister I have,” Mal droned.
Lucy stuck her tongue out at him before responding, “Hey, cutie,” into her phone as she left the room.
Mal held the frozen rose in one hand and picked up his phone with the other. This safe house was the only one within the same ten block radius as his neighborhood. Danny knew the area. Knew Haven at any rate. Likely guessed Mal had a safe house in the vicinity. Likely didn’t know Mal lived nearby as well. But if Mal met Danny at a safe house, there was the chance he’d catch sight of something incriminating, something that might give away his plans for a future heist. Mal never kept anything so blatant where he lived. Which meant it was both the smartest and stupidest idea to invite Danny into his home.
Setting the rose aside, he texted Danny his address, followed by the instructions—1 hour.
Less than thirty seconds later, Mal’s phone buzzed with a response—I’ll be there.
Excellent. Maybe he’d take that Thai food to go.
ß
