Chapter 9
ISAAC
Isaac couldn’t believe he was going through with this when Andrew had royally screwed him.
Dalton’s name—his name—had been in the papers right beside theirs, speculating about how they all knew each other.
There was no way that would go over the heads of all of Isaac’s enemies.
Someone would connect the dots, and knowing where Dalton worked, they’d know exactly how to find him.
It was a wonder Olivia hadn’t come right out and printed that Andrew was Isaac’s arresting officer, but this was worse, because it put even more of a target on Dalton’s back.
The only reason Isaac had agreed to still attend dinner was because Andrew had called him the second he read the paper. By then, Isaac had read it twice, steaming mad and eager to rant. But Andrew assured him he’d fix this.
He was going to have to do a hell of a lot to accomplish that.
“Hi!” Andrew greeted at the door, a little overly zealous, Isaac thought, to counter how much he knew he was in the doghouse.
They’d both gone to Avalon earlier to install the changes they’d recommended to Vallancourt, but Isaac had made a point of always being one room away from Andrew. “You made brownies?”
“Dad made brownies.” Dalton wiggled the pan in his hands. “He’s a really good baker.”
“Of course, he is.” Andrew scratched the back of his neck, hesitant to look Isaac in the eyes. Good. “Listen, both of you, I am so sorry about Olivia—”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear another word about that article.
” Dalton pushed inside beside him to hover in the doorway, like a bridge between him and Isaac.
“For all we know, this will still push the thief to act sooner, which is what we want. Everything’s in place, and I am fine.
Perfectly safe. I have you two to look out for me, right? ”
If nothing else, Isaac did believe that Andrew would stop at nothing to keep Dalton safe.
“It’s still unfortunate,” Isaac said, eyeing Andrew coldly, and then turning his ice to Dalton, “especially when someone keeps showing up where he doesn’t belong.”
“Don’t start that again either,” Dalton groaned, continuing the rest of the way inside to take off his shoes and coat, leaving Andrew looking nervous and fidgety as he gestured Isaac across the threshold too.
Isaac did so but didn’t soften his stare.
“Olivia is the worst,” Andrew tried again, pointing to the coatrack for them to hang their things, which already had several jackets. “I wish I’d realized that two years ago.”
“Still have the same bad taste as college?” Dalton teased. “Present company excluded.”
Isaac was not in the mood, but the comment made Andrew rub his neck again.
“Look who’s talking?” he threw back. “Riley?”
“We haven’t even gone out! And what’s so bad about Riley?”
“He works for a snake.” Candace appeared from the dining room, casual as she pleased, having set a few things on the table, with clatter coming from the kitchen, and then the reveal of Kevin and Steven setting the table as well.
Isaac tensed.
“Candace,” Dalton rebuked, passing the pan of brownies to Andrew so he could hug her, “be nice. He’s my dad.”
“I know. I was nice the other day, wasn’t I?” Her smile could have sliced through concrete. “Pleasure seeing you again, Ford.”
“Likewise,” he said just as unbelievably. He noticed Andrew peeking under the tinfoil and yanked the brownie pan away from him. “No dessert before dinner.”
“Really taking this dad thing seriously, huh?” He pouted.
“Or there are certain manners everyone should abide by.”
“If they’re as delicious as they smell, I’m making you repay me for all those coffees in baked goods.”
Isaac snorted, struggling to not give in to Andrew’s charms as easily as usual.
Then Kevin and Steven were heading over, and Andrew straightened like a soldier being lectured by a drill sergeant. Isaac had only ever seen Steven Wen in passing other than their one prime encounter—when he helped Isaac avoid added prison time. That didn’t mean they were friendly.
He looked out of place in a domestic setting, having carried salad to the table, while Kevin brought bread, and now stood before Isaac in a simple T-shirt and jeans, positively smoldering as he sized Isaac up, and then Dalton.
Steven was a little attractive, Isaac could admit, but he still preferred Andrew.
When he wasn’t pissed at him.
“Ford,” Steven said like he wasn’t quite sure he’d made the right decision suggesting a dinner party.
“We brought dessert.” Isaac pushed the pan at him rather than engage in the pissing match they’d likely get to later.
Steven stared at it skeptically.
“If you’re concerned about its contents, Detective, I’m sure Dalton will happily eat the first bite to prove it isn’t poisoned. Assuming he can beat Andrew.” He swatted Andrew’s hand when he tried to take the pan from Steven.
“I was just going to put them in the kitchen!”
“Hi.” Kevin waved awkwardly, looking put out at being an extra wheel for this gathering.
“Why don’t we head into the dining room so we can eat?” Steven said, hefting the brownie pan. “I’ll put this in the kitchen. Ford, Dalton, beer?”
“Sure,” Dalton said, undeterred as ever.
A few open beers were already on the table, so Isaac figured, “Why not.”
ANDREW
Andrew could hardly believe dinner started going well.
At least through most of the meal. Spaghetti and meatballs were a people pleaser, with salad and bread and those brownies waiting in the kitchen—with ice cream, he decided, because that would be amazing, especially if they were as good as they looked.
Ford was talented at so many surprising things.
Andrew had never added the leaf to his table before and wondered if Candace and Steven had planned to sit one at each head of the table on purpose, being the most outspoken detractors of Ford, but that’s how they ended up.
Dalton and Ford were on one side, with Ford closer to Steven’s end, and Andrew sat across from him beside Kevin.
It was strange, having dinner in Andrew’s home with his brother, his friends, and his nemesis, but also kind of nice, because Ford couldn’t keep up his polished persona with Dalton sitting right next to him, softening his comebacks.
Conversation did eventually stray to the thief and to Andrew and Ford’s current partnership, but Steven remained quiet about an ongoing case—other than to voice his disapproval.
“You set a trap?”
“Not like you’re thinking,” Andrew said. “No interference with police business and all sanctioned by Vallancourt. If it works, and they try to go back for the rest of Dalton’s things, we just left a more desirable path to follow, an alarm they can’t avoid, and a way to track them after.”
“Track them?” Steven continued to frown. “It’s bad enough Olivia went and blabbed to the whole city that we have a serial robber, now you’re out there playing vigilante?”
Andrew cringed. Sometimes he forgot that Ford wasn’t the only one his flub with Olivia had pissed off. “That’s not what this is. If it works, and we get even the slightest lead on who or where this person is, you’re the first one I’m calling,”
He was lying, but it was better to tell Steven what he wanted to hear.
“Aren’t you worried the thief already fenced what they stole?” Candace asked.
“A little,” Dalton said, “but if we’re right about this, whoever hired them is going to want everything. It’s still possible they’re hanging on to what they took.
“I know you can’t tell us about your progress, Detective,” he turned to Steven, “but I just want to impress how important it is to get my research back. If it can be recovered, the time and money saved would be invaluable.”
“I can tell you we’re doing everything we can,” Steven answered diplomatically, “but this is a tough case. Every possible lead seems to come to another dead-end. This is an experienced thief. Maybe someone you ran with, Ford?” His expression turned challenging.
“You’d tell us, wouldn’t you, if it was someone from your old life?
I’m sure helping your son is the most important thing. ”
“It is,” Ford said just as spitefully. “And on this case, Andrew and I aren’t keeping any secrets.”
“I’m sure you aren’t.” Steven glanced between them, since he knew at least one secret they were keeping from Dalton. “I’m just glad you two aren’t dating anymore.”
Andrew glared at him. He’d asked him not to bring that up, but a couple beers tended to make Steven more passive aggressive.
“Why is that?” Dalton asked without losing his smile.
The table went quiet, because Steven couldn’t respond without saying something mean, and having Dalton’s attention on him with that patient but expectant smile trapped him.
“Because people can’t change?” Dalton pushed.
“Dalton—”
“No, Dad, I want to say this. Dinner has been great, Detective. I’m glad you suggested it.
But I think you need to hear that my dad’s never been anything but good to me.
He didn’t have to listen or want to connect when I showed up on his doorstop.
He wasn’t a part of my life before, didn’t even know I existed.
But despite all that, dismissing me never crossed his mind. ”
The way he turned to gaze at Ford was so heartfelt and pure, even the ex-thief looked disarmed, and Steven cleared his throat of any biting remarks.
“I’m grateful, Detective, that you were one of the people who gave my dad a second chance,” Dalton continued, “but then don’t let it only be about a deal. He really is trying, and he deserves to have his second chance mean something.”
“He even donates to abuse shelters,” Andrew added.
“No need to paint me like a saint.” Ford scowled. “You run in certain crowds, meet certain people, some need to be taught a lesson, others need a helping hand. Quid pro quo doesn’t make me Robin Hood.”
“You were a foster kid who went through a lot growing up,” Dalton said. “You wanted to prevent other kids from experiencing the same thing. I can think what I want.”