Mal reached for his coffee, and as he did so, he let one finger tap the edge of his sister’s cup. Taking a drink, he waited for her to mimic the action. When she did, she grimaced at its now ice-cold state.
The single flower in a sad little vase on their table wilted as she glowered at him.
“Jerk.”
“Brat.”
Mal’s ire dissipated. He never could stay angry with Lucy for long. And he wasn’t really upset; he understood her caution, which was smart, but Dunkirk was no real threat to the heist aslong as they kept an eye on things. Knowing that he was mostly working solo now made an important difference. No one was going to mess up this job for him. Not even Zeus.
If all went according to plan, Danny wouldn’t even know the heist had gone down until the morning after, and then there would be nothing to pin the blame on Mal other than a little leftover ice. And that would just be between Prometheus and Zeus, not nearly enough for Detective Danny Grant to pin on anyone.
“Let’s go over the basics again, sis. I want to be sure you’ve got the timetable down.”
In the few minutes remaining before Carla came out with their lunch, they discussed the specifics of every step of the heist from their starting rendezvous points outside the museum to the moment they made their getaway—all within the quiet calm of Haven in the early afternoon. Barely even any regulars were there that time of day.
It wasn’t until Carla arrived with their food, handling her tray with flawless ease despite having to maneuver around her belly, that something caught Mal’s eye. Something…off.
He knew the glint wasn’t Carla, but when he turned and caught sight of the large mirror behind the bar, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary within the glass either. Just his own reflection staring back at him. Looking behind him at the other tables, he wondered if someone had gotten up, moved, knocked over a chair, something that might explain whatever he’d seen in the mirror. But no. Nothing.
Shaking his head, Mal turned back to the table and thanked Carla for their food. He clearly needed more sleep.
ß
It was only the next day, Saturday afternoon, when Mal entered his apartment with one arm occupied by a grocery bag, that something else seemed amiss. The rug in front of the door was slightly askew. A quick glance up revealed that the chair by his desk on the other side of the apartment had been pulled out.
Holding his breath, Mal listened for any telltale signs that the intruder was still there, but nothing betrayed itself. He turned on the light, heeled off his shoes, brought the grocery bag to the kitchen island as his eyes scanned the apartment for other tells, and then—stopped cold.
A note rested on top of the island on a piece of paper from his desk. It read:
In the fridge.
Owed you for the Thai food.
Save some for me though.
Looking forward to tonight.
–Sparky.
Mal was simultaneously impressed and furious.
After checking the refrigerator to see that Danny had picked up some rather nice catering from a sandwich shop a few blocks over, with salad and even several cookies, Mal couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, which he tried to banish on principle alone. He put away the groceries, hung up his jacket, and stormed across the apartment to his computer.
Nothing much appeared to be disturbed, other than the chair and the pad of paper Danny had used to write the note. Malwas grateful that one of his first requests of Priestly when the kid joined the Titans involved security and surveillance for his apartment and all of his safe houses. He could access any of the cameras from his home computer; one in particular faced the front door and kitchen.
Pulling up the footage from the moment he’d left his apartment, he fast-forwarded until he saw Danny. A fizzle of yellow sparks signaled his arrival. Mal watched the footage—Danny in skinny jeans, a green button down, and bomber jacket casually moving through Mal’s apartment. Mal nodded approval when the kid took off his shoes before moving into the kitchen and arranging the food in the fridge. At least he was learning. Then Danny spun around. He hadn’t turned on the light, but there was enough ambient light from the slits of windows that Mal could still see his mischievous expression.
Danny walked out of frame, so Mal brought up a different camera from the same time. Now the view faced Mal’s desk as Danny pulled out the chair to sit and reached for the computer.
Tensing, Mal sat up taller. But Danny seemed to think better of his actions and grabbed the pad of paper instead. He found a pen, wrote the note, and ripped off the piece of paper to take with him. Then he got up without looking at the computer again.
Switching back to the main camera, Mal watched Danny set the note on the counter before giving the apartment a final once over and then lightning jumping away.
He’d had the chance to rifle through anything of Mal’s he wanted. He wouldn’t have found anything worthwhile, Mal was too careful for that, unless Danny had found the secret room for his Prometheus gear, but still. Mal shouldn’t be surprised. Danny was just keeping the banter going, being the playful, adorable hero that Mal…well, that Mal enjoyed a good tumble with, whether in the bedroom or with fists and wits flying.
The realization warmed him. Danny played by the rules, beginning to end, although Mal would have to have a talk with him about the breaking and entering. He valued his privacy, his space, above all else, yet there he was, amused more than upset that Danny had crossed a boundary as easily as he’d crossed the threshold into Mal’s apartment.
All the more reason Mal should end this sooner rather than later. The heist might not sour their encounters, but something would, eventually. Best to get ahead of it before he grew too attached, before Danny got any ideas about this being more than just sex between nemeses.
