Page 7 of Lovesick Titan (Lovesick #2)

Hades watched, moving from mirror to mirror that looked in on Prometheus’s apartment.

A few minutes after the man left, there was a jostling at the door.

At least Dunkirk hadn’t lied about being good at picking locks.

He entered without trouble, closed the door behind him, and locked it again.

Just as Hades had instructed, he made sure the rug wasn’t disturbed as he crossed it.

Dunkirk’s sneer as he looked around the apartment betrayed his hatred of Prometheus.

Good. He’d be effective, if sloppy. Just what Hades needed—not a true accomplice, only a pawn.

Hades told Dunkirk he was an acquaintance of Prometheus’s that had gotten a raw deal and wanted vengeance.

He even knew how to get into Prometheus’s secret room where he stashed his gear, but of course Dunkirk had no idea that Hades was watching now.

Heading to the hidden closet quickly, Dunkirk pressed the point on the wall Hades had told him about. The amplifier was in there, but Dunkirk wasn’t seeking any treasures. Hades had given him the only treasure he needed, something he’d swiped from the OCPD.

Dunkirk let the door to the secret room close behind him, hiding him from view. The man could follow directions at least. Now to see if he followed the rest Hades had told him.

“So you do want something,” Dunkirk had scowled in the alley.

“No. Just some requests. To help you. Wait until you hear Prometheus cross the room. And no guns. You’ll never get out of the neighborhood alive if someone hears shots.”

“That I was planning on anyway. Asshole thinks he can keep my family from me? I’m gonna split him open end to end.” Dunkirk had drawn his coat back to reveal a large bowie knife.

Perfect.

“Happy hunting.”

It was a gamble. All of this was. But if things went Hades’s way, the payoff would be worth it.

R

Mal arrived back at his apartment twenty minutes after he’d left, leaving him more than enough time to get dinner started and keep his anxiety at bay. He glanced at the kitchen counter as he entered. There was his cell phone, just as he’d suspected. Danny was making him careless.

Tossing the new loaf of bread onto the counter, he frowned as he looked around his apartment.

Something felt…off. He glanced back at the rug.

Perfectly in place. No lights were on. The door had been locked.

Nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

But Mal couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Slowly, he glanced around at the many items in his apartment that were shiny and reflective. There was always that feeling, that sense of being watched.

Mal shrugged it off. Maybe the feeling was warranted. Maybe he only felt it because Danny was on his way. Regardless, Mal wouldn’t be deterred. He didn’t give in to fear for anyone.

After hanging up his coat, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work making dinner.

R

Danny lightning jumped to the edge of Cho’s neighborhood but decided to walk like a normal person the last few blocks.

He needed time to think. Plus, it was a little early still.

He wondered why Cho had insisted on half an hour instead of an hour, but maybe it was just to test whether or not Danny would comply.

Cho was eager to see him. Desperate to see him, judging by his texts.

Danny should not feel guilty about wanting to come clean. Guilty about having something to come clean about , yes, but he had to break the illusion Cho was under. Danny was not the stalwart hero he appeared to be. That he pretended to be…

“Ah, Mickey make dinner for you, yes?” a familiar accented voice disrupted Danny’s thoughts. It was Mrs. Pak wiping down one of the tables outside her corner store’s café .

“Hi! Uhh…what did you say?” Danny stammered.

The tiny Korean woman shook her head at him and moved her hands to her hips. “You tell Mickey he wrong. He already buy bread. Must have lost first loaf. Not misplaced here.”

“Um, okay.” Danny wasn’t quite sure he understood, but he nodded anyway.

She sighed as though he was absolutely hopeless, which of course was entirely true as far as Danny was concerned. Stomping forward, she pushed him down the sidewalk. “He rush off to cook for you . Go, go! Need meat on your bones, skinny boy!” She patted his side without an ounce of bashfulness.

The general flush of embarrassment Danny felt was overshadowed by what she’d said about dinner. Cho wasn’t just ordering in, he was actually cooking for him again. He thought this was a date, was treating it like a date . And Danny was going to rip his heart out—just like he’d planned.

He felt like he might throw up.

Heading away from the corner without even acknowledging Mrs. Pak again, which was rude enough, Danny was in a daze as he covered the remaining blocks toward Mal’s apartment. He was so trapped in his thoughts, he almost ran right into the young girl from the bakery.

“Oh, hey! Danny, right?” She smiled at him, looking as though she’d just closed up shop for the night with a box of leftover donuts in hand.

“Right.” Danny blinked at her. “Yeah. Umm…”

“Janey.”

“Janey! Of course. I was just…”

“Going to see Mr. Cho? Good. Do you know what happened to his face? I’ve been so worried.”

If Danny’s stomach could plummet any lower, it would have sunk to the pavement. “Yeah…it was, uhh…work related.”

“I figured as much. Do you want to take these?” She held out the box of donuts with an appeasing smile. “You can share them. They’ll just go to waste if I take them home. Usually I take them to the shelter a few blocks down, but I don’t have time tonight.”

Even the people in this neighborhood were remarkable; no wonder Cho wanted to protect them. Danny felt it impolite to refuse her. “Of course. I’m sure Mal will both hate and appreciate the offer. ”

Janey giggled as he accepted the box. “I know, I know. He says we offer too much, but before him, we had break-ins and people trying to hold us up almost every week. This is a nice neighborhood again because of Mr. Cho. I’m glad he has someone like you to look after him.

He’s seemed so preoccupied and sad this week. ”

“Yeah…there’s just been some uhh…it’s just that lately…”

“It’s okay, Danny, I’m not trying to pry.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled wider, which made Danny feel like the dirt beneath his shoes. “Have a nice night now! And say hello to Mr. Cho for me.” Waving brightly, she headed off down the street.

Danny turned to call out, “I will!” After he gave Cho the donuts. And gave him Mrs. Pak’s message. And told Cho that he’d been using him all this time just to watch him squirm.

Trudging forward, box of donuts secure, it wasn’t until Danny crossed the threshold into Cho’s building that he realized he’d forgotten the comms and goggles at the precinct. He’d have to give them back to Cho another time. Maybe mail them if Cho didn’t want anything to do with him after today.

Each new step up the stairs felt like slogging through quicksand. Danny wasn’t paying attention to anything in his path, especially since he had a large pink box obscuring his view, so he didn’t see the small figure that ran out of the apartment to his right.

“Hey!” Danny called when something collided with his side. The donuts flew up a couple inches but thankfully landed safely back in his arms. “What the…?” Clutching the box closer to his chest, he looked down around his feet.

A young boy—the same young boy who had nearly run into Danny rushing down the stairs several weeks back—stood rubbing his shoulder where it had struck Danny’s hip. His big blue eyes looked up at Danny shyly, in stark contrast to his mocha skin, and Danny noticed a doll clutched in his hand.

It was made of yarn, but there was no denying that the likeness was meant to be Prometheus.

R

The apartment was filled with the smells of cooking garlic, onions, and ground turkey. Mal rarely made this particular dish. It served at least four people, and usually it was just him eating alone, but Danny could eat enough to avoid leftovers with a second and third helping easy.

The sweet potatoes were in the oven, green onions cut, cheese grated.

Once the meat was finished cooking, Mal would add mushrooms, well on his way to completion.

But as he stirred in the cream to thicken the cream of mushroom soup, he felt that same prickling in his periphery as though someone was right behind him.

He turned. Nothing. No one. There was no reason for Mal to feel this way, aside from the usual feeling of reflections carrying demons in their depths.

Maybe he’d check his surveillance footage just to be certain.

His instincts were never wrong, and he couldn’t shake the sensation that something was off.

After setting the burners on low, Mal crossed the room to his computer desk.

He pulled up the program from Priestly and searched the video footage for just after he left the apartment.

As he did, the feeling that he wasn’t alone only grew stronger, insistent and infuriating. Then he heard a creak of the floor.

Mal dove to the right out of his desk chair, landing with a wince as his shoulder jammed downward but avoiding the lunge from Dunkirk as the man crashed into his computer desk.

R

“Hey,” Danny said, crouching down to be eye level with the boy and setting the box of donuts on the floor.

He could see around the kid into his apartment, door left open, a TV on, the clear outline of a woman asleep on the sofa—his mother.

“I don’t think your mom would be too happy about you going out to play while she’s napping. Wouldn’t she worry?”

The boy clutched his Prometheus doll in both hands and stared at his feet. “Not s’posed to talk to strangers. ”