Swinging up off the sofa, Andrew groaned again, walking on unsteady feet, and then gave up and kicked his sweatpants away to head into the kitchen.
He could have been a shit and not brought back any paper towels for Isaac, but he did.
“Thanks.”
“I can’t believe we just did that.”
“I’d say it was my devilish charms but were there perhaps… extenuating circumstances?”
Andrew didn’t say anything, but as he tossed the dirty towels into a nearby wastebasket filled with Christmas wrapping scraps and ribbon pieces, his scowl remained.
“Let me guess,” Isaac said, as they both pulled on their sweatpants, Isaac staying on the sofa, while Andrew segregated himself to the armchair. “Miss Park doesn’t like it rough?”
“That had nothing to do with it,” Andrew snarled. “I've never... done anything like that before.”
“Aren’t I lucky then? You know, they say people who are habitually in charge like being submissive on occasion to give themselves a break. And those robbed of agency—such as a detective always answering to a higher power with expectations weighing on his shoulders—enjoy being dominant to feel a sense of control.
“Now, that's generalizing, but tell me, Andrew... did I hit the nail on thehead?”
“Fuck you,” Andrew snapped.
“Fuck me yourself. The night’s still young.”
Andrew lurched up out of the armchair. “Not for me. Don’t leave. You can sleep on the sofa. Extra blankets are in the chest by the fireplace. We’ll go to the station in the morning.” He circled behind the sofa to head upstairs.
“No goodnight kiss?” Isaac called after him.
Having reached the banister, Andrew curled his hand angrily around the post, his eyes flashing darkly in warning. “You know what makes you such a bad criminal?”
Isaac glowered. He was anexcellentcriminal.
“You don’t want to be the bad guy. You just want to have a good time. Anywhere you can get it.”
Those parting words left a nasty taste in Isaac’s mouth, and he laid in the light of the Christmas tree long after all other lights had been turned off. He’d been a street kid, a lifelong thief and grifter, with no family, few friends, and fewer prospects outside his next heist, but Andrew had no idea how wrong he was about ‘Anywhere you can get it’.
He was picky to a fault, and maybe that’s what tonight had been.
If Isaac didn’t go to the station tomorrow, he’d have to leave town, maybe for good, but he couldn’t sleep here. There was a safe house he could go to. He’d chosen Andrew instead for the chance at freedom. Now, he wasn’t as sure.
Making up his mind, he left a note, taking his shoes and jacket but abandoning the jumpsuit.
Check with your brother. If I decide to make good on our promise, he’ll know.
Andrew’swordsstillechoedin Isaac’s mind as he entered the safe house through a side door. Maybe that was what caused him to be less vigilant, because it took him a moment to realize he wasn’t alone.
There was a light on. No ambush then, if the person was announcing their presence, but it couldn’t be any of his usual partners in crime—they would have met him at the door—which meant someone was poking around where they didn’t belong, and Isaac was not in a mood to play nice.
“I’m unarmed!” Hands shot for the ceiling when Isaac burst around the corner, which was good, because Isaac wasn’t armed either.
“Who are you?” he demanded, searching the young and unfamiliar face.
Except the eyes. Isaac knew those eyes…
“I just—”
“How’d you get in here?”
“Luke! From the bar down the street! I saw the prison break on the news. He said you sometimes come here, had a key—”
