Page 18 of Lovesick Titan (Lovesick #2)

It had to be something memorable, something Zeus wouldn’t be able to resist. Dom kept going on about how she was owed a painting, and Mal could provide—by hitting the main Olympus City Museum as a follow up to the failed attempt on the diamond.

An anniversary of sorts, both of the mess with Ludgate, if Mal managed to pull this off Monday night, and of the first real encounter between Prometheus and Zeus almost a year ago.

Mal had broken into the museum to steal a priceless artifact, and Danny, for all his newly budding power and cute quips, hadn’t been able to stop him.

Danny had made things fun from day one, more challenging, more interesting.

Their banter was playful, never serious in those early days, never personal.

But so much had changed in a year. In six months. In the past few weeks.

Mal worked furiously at the safe house worktable, old blueprints from that initial heist spread out before him. It was a risk to assume the museum hadn’t changed any of their security since then, but Mal didn’t care about anonymity. He wanted to be seen.

“Mickey?” Lucy’s voice broke into his intense focus.

“Ya called us?” Dom was with her. Good.

Mal had chosen the smallest of his safe houses for this because he didn’t need much planning; he needed speed and efficiency. Thankfully, he’d already been able to do away with the gauze around his hand, though the flecks of indents in his knuckles from the glass remained.

“Time to make up for what was denied you, Dom,” Mal said, barely glancing up from his work. “We’re striking while the mood is hot, just the way you like it. Have a seat. This one’s going to take some careful planning.”

No response came. When neither of them moved to take one of the other stools around the worktable, Mal looked up with impatience.

He couldn’t take a break now; he needed them as focused as he was.

But they stood across from him on the other side of the table, Lucy’s hip cocked and arms crossed; Dom wearing a potent frown.

“What?” Mal snapped. So he hadn’t slept much last night.

So he was harried and rushed. He wasn’t being careless, he was being prudent.

This couldn’t wait. Timing was the most important thing to make sure none of the wounds he’d inflicted healed.

The photograph being delivered to Captain Shan was only step one.

If he wanted Danny to really pay, then he couldn’t give him a moment’s reprieve.

“What’d he do to you?” Dom asked with a grim once-over of Mal’s hunched form.

No . Mal was not talking about this. He was never talking about this. “I asked you here to help me with a heist. You want to help—stay. You want to waste time distracting me, I can do this myself.”

Looking down once more, he returned to the blueprints.

If he wanted to avoid the police beating Zeus to the scene, the least amount of potential alarms was along the north wall, which would make getting to the paintings a bit of a trek, but they’d have their pick of them before making a grand exit to trip the alarms and get Danny to try to stop them during the escape plan.

Dom and Lucy still hadn’t moved.

“Things were going so well,” Lucy said, too sympathetic for Mal’s mood right now.

“If that’s suddenly changed, Mickey, I want to know why.

Dom won’t tell me shit about what she knows, so you better give me something .

” The sharp impatience that entered her tone made Mal glance up.

Her eyes were pitying through her frustration.

“What happened? Tell us. Last I checked, you weren’t above admitting you’d fallen for Zeus, so what changed? ”

Everything .

“Yeah, well Spark Plug wasn’t above bein’ an idiot ,” Dom said, earning a scowl from Lucy as she glanced between them. “How much more of an idiot was he yesterday?”

Even if Mal wanted to confess the hurt to a willing ear, he didn’t want that to be Lucy, couldn’t bear to see her pitying him any more than she already was, and it couldn’t be Dom.

Dom would want to kill Danny for what he’d done.

Too black and white about everything— if he hurts you, he dies .

As much as Mal wanted to see the kid suffer, he didn’t want that.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mal said, firm and direct.

Shaking off his urgency, he stared each of them down to make sure they understood.

“Bad idea all around, just like you warned me, Dom. It’s over.

This has nothing to do with that. Ludgate got the diamond and Zeus interrupted our fun getting the rest of the loot, so now we’re making up for it. Simple as that.”

“Bullshit,” Lucy said. “Something happened, and now you want to hurt him for hurting you. That doesn’t sound like anything’s over, Mickey. Just that you’re upset and not thinking enough to plan with a clear head. So if you want my help, you’re gonna have to tell me a helluva lot more.”

No . If Mal stopped to talk about it, to think about, he’d lose the momentum of his anger, and he wasn’t ready to face what lay beneath it.

That’s why he hadn’t slept. Every time he closed his eyes, the grief started to choke him.

The only way he could hold himself together was to push forward and break Danny down until all the power was his again.

Until he won. Until he was back on top and couldn’t be toppled.

Then the pain would get overshadowed by satisfaction and victory, and he could move on.

Mal turned to Dom. “You gonna help me or stand there?”

Lucy scoffed at being ignored.

But Dom scowled harder and shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. You wanna cause a little mayhem, pal, I’m with ya.”

“ Dom ,” Lucy chastised her, but she’d already moved around the table to look over Mal’s shoulder.

“Your services are no longer required, sis,” Mal said as he returned to making his plans.

The night guard took a break at 10PM, which would give Mal and Dom the perfect window to get in, get across the floorplan to the paintings, and bust out of the south wall to create some chaos before they took their leave.

“Mickey…don’t do this,” Lucy said plaintively, disrupting his focus again and making him clench his fists to keep from snapping at her.

He couldn’t give in; he couldn’t look up and see the pleading in her eyes.

“Did he really do something so awful to earn this? Or are you re ading too much into things like you always do, assuming he doesn’t care when he obviously—”

“You don’t know anything about this,” Mal snarled, looking up but only at the edge of the table, not at her, not at her . “He doesn’t care. And neither do I. Caring isn’t part of the equation, Luce. This is just a heist.”

The short huff of air that left her was disbelieving and so very sad . “I don’t know anything about this, you’re right. But if you won’t tell me, then I’m gonna find out.” Her voice dropped lower, softer. “You’ve been so happy, Mickey…”

A chill ran through Mal, but he was used to that feeling.

He’d perfected that feeling. In instilling it in others.

In how to weather it himself. He didn’t shiver.

Didn’t give any outward sign that he felt anything at all.

He channeled his anger and let it burn inside of him to war against any encroaching chill.

He was cold. And he was hard. And he would not be moved by Danny Grant; he was going to ruin Danny and pull himself back up from how he’d fallen, stronger than ever.

“You want me to be happy?” he said, looking at her finally but keeping his expression stern. “Then help me pull this off in twenty-four hours.”

Lucy tore her eyes from him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. Maybe he was—he definitely was. But he was still going through with his plan. It was the only thing keeping him from icing the entire safe house and losing his god damn mind.

Turning back to the blueprints, he told himself he’d make it up to Lucy later when she stormed off and slammed the safe house door behind her.

“Okay, Dom. Here’s how it’s gonna go down.”

R

Danny didn’t feel the surge of panic he expected. As he stared at the photograph of him and Mal kissing and heard Captain Shan’s words ring in his ears, all he felt was cold. All he felt was numb .

“Grant? Do you have anything to say to this?” Shan asked .

“No, sir.”

“No?” Reaching forward to tap the picture pointedly, Shan glowered at him. “I’m looking at evidence that you know the whereabouts of a known fugitive.”

“He hasn’t been convicted of anything yet.”

“He’s still a fugitive! You could be connected to aiding and abetting any of the crimes he’s committed since—”

“There’s no evidence he’s committed any crimes since his escape.”

“Are you—?” Shan stopped as if he was about to erupt at Danny, but he didn’t pause to calm himself down. He stood and leaned over the desk menacingly. “Are you admitting to falsifying records?”

“No, sir.” Danny returned his stare unflinchingly.

“Well, it’s not looking good for you, Grant.

You have no idea how much I wanted this to be a fake, but that’s not the case, is it?

” His fierce expression held a shadow of disappointment again.

“There’s going to be a full investigation.

You’re looking at jail time, do you realize that?

Which you might, might escape if you give up where this picture was taken and tell us where he is, but it won’t save your job. ”

A few weeks ago, a small vindictive part of Danny might have told Shan what he was asking for, but he felt no urge to do that now. Besides, he knew where that would lead. If he gave up Mal’s address, he’d just reveal Danny’s identity as Zeus. He was trapped. And Mal knew he’d be trapped.

“Still nothing to say?” Shan asked.

“No, sir.”