“Why?” he asked, afraid in his bones. The girl was spoiled but innocent; he’d always gone out of his way to shield the innocent.
“Why do you want to do it?” Felix asked soberly.
Danny grimaced. “He…. You know Berto?”
“Yeah.” Felix seemed to bear the kid no ill will from their first meeting, and Berto had been a willing helper when Danny had trained Felix in the finer points of picking pockets.
“Hiram’s Berto’s father.”
Felix’s mouth dropped open—innocence was one of his qualities too. “No!”
“There’s more than one kid in that pack who was fathered by Hiram. They know one another. Their mothers are coerced. They will do anything to keep their jobs, and he may—may, mind you—hire them back after they have their babies. It’s… it’s fucking medieval. The women can’t get jobs in other places if the owners find out, like it’s their fault this guy can’t keep his dick to himself.” Danny’s voice grew low and ugly, his secret resentment out into the brutal sunshine at last.
“That’s… that’s awful,” Felix said. Felix wasn’t blind, though. “But why? Why is it so personal to you?”
Danny kept his face turned away. “My father was like that,” he said. “I… I never met him. I heard most of the story from my mother’s friends, who were all stupid young, like she was, and didn’t think twice about telling me. I had a stepfather for a couple of years, but he died because of another asshole who thought it was okay to take whatever he wanted. It’s a cycle of use. Of abuse. I hate it. I just think Hiram needs payback.”
“Okay,” Felix said, so readily Danny actually turned to look him in the eyes.
“Okay?” Felix had hated the idea so much in the beginning.
“One condition,” Felix said soberly.
“It’s your con,” Danny said generously. “What’s our hard limit?”
“We can’t hurt the girl. She never asked for this. All we know about her is she likes to go shopping. So do we. I can’t hold it against her.”
Danny had no problem with that. He didn’t give her a second thought. The idea of this—a longer, more complicated adventure—lit him up inside. The sex had been better, but Danny was afraid of that. He wasn’t afraid of the game; he’d been practicing the game since he’d gone into care and had worked his first foster mother for more cookies.
They could deal with the girl. Whatever it was, they could deal.
And this way, Danny had a reason to hold on to Felix Salinger through another adventure. Maybe after this one, there’d be another. And another.
All the adventures they could have together. Danny could get excited about that. The low rumble in his gut that told him how much he needed Felix’s touch—that could go to hell.
But then Felix kissed him again in the glorious sun, and his body sang some more, and not even that resolve could stick.
Present
DANNY WOKE up to sunlight streaming through the big bay window in Felix’s room, deeply entrenched in the duvet.
He flailed for a moment, because it was morning, and someone had covered him with more than that cashmere throw, and—
“Easy,” Julia said softly, coming to sit by his side. “You’re here at Felix’s house. You’re fine. But I think you were jet-lagged as hell. I’ve never seen you sleep like that.”
Shit. He’d slept the whole night there. That had not been his intention. The plan? To come in, do the job, leave. He was good at going ghost like tha—
“And don’t even think about disappearing,” Julia said frankly, and he glared at her.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Her laugh was charming, and Danny had always known she did a lot more of it since Felix had come into her life.
“You were going to come in, do your job or whatever to save him, and disappear,” she said, close enough to feather a touch down his temple, as if they were friends.
They were friends. Coconspirators for over ten years. Danny had learned more about breaking and entering by spiriting in and out of Julia’s and her father’s homes to see Felix than he’d ever learned on the streets. And they’d all learned more about doing long con jobs—setting up business events to lure Hiram away from Chicago so they could have their household to themselves.
“Well, what?” he said, trying hard to leech the defensiveness out of his voice. “I put him back in charge of his media empire and where does that leave me?”
She snorted. “He never wanted the media empire,” she said, lifting a shoulder. “Leave the media empire to me.” Her eyes grew wistful. “Take him on adventures. Take him to Italy again, and stay in the villa legitimately instead of breaking in. Break the law a little—gently, and with good intentions.” She patted his cheek. “Get a tan. My goodness, Danny, where have you been doing business?”
Danny grunted. “England. There’s this whole… political thing.”
“Lots of targets,” she agreed.
He tried to look modest. “And plenty of people in need of a setdown.”
Her eyes sharpened. “That anti-Muslim politician who lost her home to tax fraud…?”
“Horrible person,” Danny agreed. “I’d feel sorry for her, but, you know, reaping, sowing….”
“All very biblical, I can tell.” Her soft laughter faded. “We need you in our lives. Me, Fox, Josh—we miss you, Danny. Come home.”
“I don’t even know if he wants—”
“He’s making waffles,” she said bluntly.
“I beg your pardon?” Felix didn’t cook. Ever. In Italy he’d once gone for three days without food because Danny was on a job and nobody had made him anything to eat. They’d been in the middle of making love when he’d gotten a nosebleed and passed out. Danny hadn’t spoken to him for three days after that, he’d been so worried.
“For you. He ran downstairs almost frantic, asked Phyllis for a recipe—”
“Have you called the fire department? Poison control? Dancers with restraints?” Danny was sitting up in alarm, his T-shirt rucking up above his waistline. She’d seen him in his boxers before, and neither of them had ever made note of it.
Until now. “Danny!”
He covered his ribs where the scars still lingered. “Shit.”
“Danny, what in the hell—”
“They’re old, Julia,” he said practically. Then, because maybe she’d leave him alone, “About ten years old.”
She met his eyes. “You… you crashed pretty hard back then,” she said delicately.
“Con men who crash get caught,” he agreed.
Her eyes—big and green and lovely—glittered suddenly with tears. “What I made Felix do to you, it wasn’t fair. I’m so sorry, Danny.”
He tried to shrug her off, let it roll off his back like he’d tried to do all those years ago back in Italy when things had gone so wildly south. “I agreed,” he said, and his grifter’s smile—that easy devil-may-care weapon in his arsenal—finally graced his mouth, but it fought him every step of the way. “You were in a tight spot. Water under the bridge, over the shore, what—”