Chapter 8
ANDREW
Dalton was supposed to be the one doing all the plotting, pushing them into awkward situations or making up excuses to get them alone. But somewhere along the way, that had fallen aside, and everyone else started playing their part too—even Steven, however unintentionally, by suggesting dinner.
And Andrew himself. After all, he had no one else to blame for picking up coffee for him and Ford for the second time in two weeks.
It was mid-afternoon, not the morning coffee rush, so the place wasn’t packed. Some afternoon caffeine seemed like the perfect way to break the ice for his upcoming B&E.
Andrew snickered as he waited for his order.
He was not excited—well, just a little. Ford did mock burglaries all the time, it was his tried and true method having been a thief, but Andrew never went that far with a client.
He did inspections and made recommendations.
If this worked well for him, maybe he’d give it a try more often.
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.
ISAAC
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 thought. 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.