14. Chapter 14

“Hands in the air Malcolm, you’re under arrest!”

The diner was almost empty this late at night, just a small smattering of other patrons and their suspect. Nevertheless, those infamous words prompted a veritable flood, and not a single scruffy or worn customer wasted time in scurrying out the door, some choosing to avoid the agents and leave via the kitchen, abandoning cups of still steaming coffee in their haste.

That left a lone duty waitress behind the counter, and Malcolm Graham.

Graham appeared absolutely unaffected by the presence of the FBI team out to detain him; he waved a hand at them in vague acknowledgement of the guns at his back and carried on eating.

Agent Johnson felt his heart give a sympathetic squeeze as he took in the smorgasbord of sugary treats arrayed out in front of their suspect and mentally revised eating up to gorging. The array of empty dishes to one side only made the tableau worse.

“Hands up!”

“I heard you the first time. Have you tried the pie? So good.” Another slice disappeared, Malcolm reaching greedily for his next plate over a stack of dirty ones piled haphazardly in front of him.

It wasn’t the first time Johnson had seen such behaviour. Mr. Graham must have been tipped off in time to start this spree, knowing the jig was up. Either there was another leak, or Graham still had friends. He wondered if that would last. Dirty cops lost them fast once word spread, and it would spread fast since the team had had to use local forces to cover the back entrance of the diner.

They knew whom they’d come to arrest.

“Settle up, Malcolm,” Agent Johnson ordered, because that display of gluttony had to be pricey and there was no need to make the waitress’ shift any worse.

“You have a lot of questions to answer.”

#

The club was packed despite the fairly early hour. Chloe wondered, fondly exasperated, if it was ever not packed. Five years and more since it’s opening, Lux was still a hot spot. A classy hot spot, favoured by the rich, the famous and the powerful.

She no longer had to wonder why. Given the social disasters Lucifer left in his wake, she’d always been baffled by the numbers of movers and shakers that favoured Lux. Now of course, she knew. How many of those people had come to specifically to see Lucifer? How many had done him favours? How many had he returned? What favours?

Perched on a barstool at the very end of the bar, Chloe toyed with her glass and let her thoughts wonder as she swept keen eyes over the heaving room.

Playing bait was not particularly difficult, but it was boring. She had no interest in drinking or dancing, the music wasn’t calling to her, and she was exhausted.

The plan was a good one though, and she trusted Lucifer. His skill at reading people – undoubtedly involved in his mind tricks somehow, it couldn’t all be cold reading surely – was irrefutable. If he said someone would come to snoop, to watch her, and to gloat, then they really would, and sitting down here instead of bothering Connor for updates would be worth it.

“Another?”

Chloe smiled faintly at the new bartender, as she put another water in front of her, complete with an olive and martini glass.

“Thank you, any news?” She didn’t bother to keep her voice quiet – Lux wasn’t the type of club to be insufferably loud, but it was still a club, and there were enough conversations going around to mask their own.

Lamia shook her head silently, eyes scanning the room. Her gaze lingered on the centre of the dance floor where Lucifer was currently entertaining several women, and warmth filled them.

Chloe had her back to that part of the club. For no particular reason, she just didn’t want to watch Lucifer’s cavorting. Besides, right here at the bar set the scene nicely for anyone watching her. She was near to the back door, visible from any side of the room, and the only table behind her was manned by two more of Lucifer’s… female employees.

“How long have you worked for him?”

Chloe had resolved to shelve all non-Trixie issues, but she was still a cop, and still curious. Her need to understand the man to whom she’d entrusted Trixie’s life had rocketed to the top of her priority list.

“For as long as I can remember.”

A non-answer.

This conversation had barely begun and Chloe was already strongly reminded of Mazikeen. She’d suspected that Lamia, plus the two behind her, were also ninja-trained, or whatever the hell it was that Mazikeen did, but now she was bordering on confident.

Where, in god’s name, did Lucifer find these people? Had he saved the life of some sort of clan heir, gaining undying servitude in return? No, wait - that had been a movie plot.

“Thank you for coming when Lucifer called, I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Lamia looked scandalised, which was at least a nugget of information even if Chloe didn’t know what it was yet. “Why does troubling us matter? Lucifer called.”

And of course we came went unsaid. Chloe heard it anyway and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t actually want to offend her newest source.

People who actually knew Lucifer were few and far between. Mazikeen and Amenadiel had been the only two she knew of. Mazikeen was loyal, and trying to weasel any information out of her always gave Chloe a headache. As for Amenadiel – well, whether he was involved or not, he wasn’t here, and they’d never spoken much anyway.

A round of female giggling chorused behind Chloe, and she hunched her shoulders.

“Is that him?”

“Oh my, did you get a look?”

“Those legs.”

“Those eyes. What I wouldn’t give – “

“Have you heard the rumours about him? Three women in one bed, and not a one left unsatisfied.”

“That’s nothing. Britney told me that-“

“-really do mean all night long, and then –“

Watching Lamia stumbled her way through operating a till did nothing to drown out the giggling gossips a few stalls over.

Salacious rumour must make up the other half of Lux’s popularity, Chloe groused. There was nothing this crowd, a crowd she was all too familiar with thanks to her mother, loved more than a good bit of gossip, and Lucifer was a character alright.

She gave in to the inevitable and twisted in her seat to watch Lucifer work. He wasn’t playing the piano tonight. Instead he… held court.

It was the only word for it as he perched on a table, a glass of whisky in one hand and a redhead in the other. Three girls cavorted two feet in front of him whilst he chatted with a small group of men. Lucifer said something; the men laughed; the redhead giggled.

Chloe couldn’t even begin to understand the phenomenon. Lucifer was handsome, sure, charming on occasion perhaps, but he was Lucifer. Maybe they were here for business?

“He will not stray in his affections.”

The comment made Chloe spin back to Lamia, nearly toppling off the stool in the process.

“Not when you’ve given him a child,” Lamia continued, shaking a cocktail and pouring it out with deft hands, passing it off to another bartender to serve.

Her glass cracked.

“Why,” Chloe said flatly, setting the broken glass down on the bar with infinite care, “Does everyone think Trixie is Lucifer’s daughter?”

It hurt to say Trixie’s name. She hadn’t expected that.

Lamia stilled.

“She isn’t?”

Chloe shook her head, slowly, watching Lamia very carefully. That had been telling. Lamia had revealed another one of those nuggets, she just knew it, and unfortunately she had no idea what it all meant.

“My ex-husband is her father,” Chloe added leadingly when it became apparent that Lamia was not going to speak any further. “Lucifer has only been in L.A for five years or so, and Trixie is eight years old.” Why was she trying to convince the other woman?

The horrible thought that Trixie might always be eight got stuck in her head and refused to leave.

“Travelling is very easy for our – for Lucifer. Did he not seduce you? Did you not have an affair? Lucifer is very persuasive, it’s no sin to admit to it, not here, not now and not to me. He has always liked married women, and you were married in a church.”

“Right,” Chloe said, resigned to the crazy, deciding not to ask how Lamia knew where she’d been married on the insistence of her mother-in-law. “Because that makes sense. No, Trixie isn’t his, for the last time. Why would it matter?”

Slowly, Lamia looked from her to Lucifer, who had dismissed his courtiers for another group of fawning acolytes.

“I have worked for Lucifer for a very long time,” Lamia began. “Those of us who are close to him, or aspire to be, have always paid close attention to his moods, his habits,” she frowned. “I have never known him to act as he has without clear personal motivation. If Beatrice is not his own, why does he care?” She gave Chloe a frank once-over.

“You must be an exceptional mistress. I congratulate you on your skills.”

“Funnily enough,” Chloe said dryly, “I have other talents, despite my being a woman.” It was sad really, that she no longer found these ways of thinking shocking.

A man goes out of his way to help a woman – they’re sleeping together. Naturally, a favour had to go both ways and all that a woman ever had was her body. No thought that she could have been paying Lucifer a fortune, had influence at the mayor’s office he wanted used on his behalf or even her job as a police officer offering him some other benefit. Nope, it had to be about sex.

“Getting along are we? Excellent.” Lucifer purred, appearing at her side, one arm snaking around her waist like it belonged there. Chloe elbowed him in the ribs for it as she ignored the weight of Lamia’s confusion.

“Right.” Chloe sipped her water. “Seen anything yet?”

“Oh yes. Identical twins Detective! Do you know I haven’t had twins in years. Triplets, yes, but there’s something to be said for the classics, I-”

Despite knowing better, Chloe tuned out Lucifer’s delighted ramble, and had to do a double take when her subconscious prodded her, sharply.

“Wait, what?”

Lucifer sighed, giving her a woeful mien that he had to have learned from Trixie. It was a strange kind of fond pain to see it on his face instead of hers. “I said that the man in the red shirt is the one we want. Mercenary, if I’m any judge, which I am, by the way, capital ‘j’ too. He’ll approach you when his reporter date distracts me. Not a bad tactic, I suppose. A little simplistic, perhaps,” he shrugged, and Chloe read but what can you expect from mortals in the gesture.

Chloe followed the tilt of Lucifer’s head, subtly eyeing that side of the room until her eyes landed on a short blonde woman, standing alone against a wall, and eyeing Lucifer hungrily.

“A reporter, here?” Chloe felt a little queasy. What would they write about her if they found her in a club when Trixie was kidnapped? Nothing good. Oh God. They’d never believe this was a trap. And, worse, it was Lucifer’s club who everyone thought she was sleeping with. What would Dan say? And why should she care what that selfish-

“Millie, from the Star I believe it was.”

The name clicked, drawing Chloe out of her spiral of self-flagellation into much more familiar exasperation.

“Millie.” It was not a question. “The one you slept with. On my couch.”

“Don’t worry, Detective. I don’t want seconds.”

Strangling Lucifer wouldn’t fix anything. Even if she’d feel so damn good doing it.

“I want to strangle you,” Chloe hissed. Better out than in, and all that. “Preferably on that same couch. I’m going to need a fumigator too. Which you are paying for.”

“Detective,” Lucifer chided softly, and Chloe looked over at him, surprised and annoyed. After all of the things he said and did in broad daylight and in public she couldn’t –

Oh, dear.

Lucifer was staring at her, eyes dark in the dim lights of the club, but not dark enough to hide the dilated pupils, the clench of his hand upon his glass, and the bar behind him.

There were dents in the wood.

It was probably cheap plywood. Practically saw dust. Anyone could have – but Lucifer had seriously high standards, and if it wasn’t marble or mahogany she’d eat her boots – done that. Anyone. Even she could, not that she was going to try. That would just be silly.

“I can’t believe you,” Chloe tore her eyes away, and back to the glass in her hands. Her heart was racing but she ignored that too. “Three seconds ago you were focused on another woman and now you’re-“ she made a vague gesture that encompassed his body from head to toe, unable to say the words she was thinking, otherwise they’d have to talk about it.

Picturing me in your bed, having wild sex with you, and god it would probably be fantastic wouldn’t it? No smoke without fire. There has to be some truth in all of those rumours and -

Not good. They were just friends, and friends was so much safer.

“So that’s your dirty little secret. I should have known.” He relished the words, and she was grateful not to have to look at him as he crowed, waves of delight pouring off of him like light. “I thought I sensed something like that earlier. Oh but Detective, well played, I must say.” He purred, stepping closer and leaning down, to whisper in her ear. “Springing something positively naughty on me when we’re in the middle of a hunt? I was beginning to think you weren’t interested.”

Now she really wanted to strangle him, and if she did, it would only make things worse. Oh god, how was this her life? What had she ever done to deserve Lucifer? She pressed her palms flat on the bar; carefully focusing on the curl and flex of her fingers, not Lucifer’s presence, too close to her neck.

Well, she had to try and fix this, now before his stubborn mind fixated on the idea.

“I’m not interested, at all. It was just an expression.”

“-The stallion is raring to go-“

“Absolutely not.”

“-The fires are burning-“

“Still a no.”

“ – straining on the leash –“

There was only one thing left to try.

“Oh dear God.”

Lucifer pulled up short, nose wrinkling and Chloe congratulated herself on her victory.

“Really, Detective, did you have to mention him?”

“What’s the plan?” Chloe asked, her mind back on business.

“All you have to do is talk to him, his orders will be about provoking reactions from you. He’s a grunt, not the mastermind. There’ll be a camera on him. If he’s bad at his job, he’ll try to sleep with you – good luck to him there – and that means leaving, probably through the back exit into the alley where some of mine are waiting. Try and pump him for information whilst he thinks he’s won, but your main task is already done. I know who he is, now. Are you ready?”

Chloe nodded.

“Happy hunting, my dear.”

Lucifer looked over at the reporter again, obviously this time, and smirked, straightening he left Chloe with a clap on the shoulder and stalked over to the woman, every nuance in him screaming target acquired. Chloe gave credit where it was due – the man was a damn fine actor. If he hadn’t just told her what he was going to do, she’d have fully believed he was up to his usual antics.

It happened exactly as Lucifer said it would.

The reporter, who Chloe watched in the reflection of the mirror above the bar, grinned when she spotted Lucifer coming towards here. A grin that was too smug for Chloe’s liking – and a well-muscled man in a neat red shirt slid into the barstool next to her.

Mercenary, Lucifer had said.

That wasn’t in the profile. The Collector was one psychopath, not an… organisation?

It was easy to keep calm in Lux. Lamia was a ninja, the two woman behind her were ninja, Lucifer was right there, and this was just a game.

“Another drink for the lady,” the man said, a low baritone. The muscles could have been vanity, but the scars on his knuckles had never come from a gym.

Chloe smiled at him slowly, grateful but tired, letting the role consume her.

“Thank you. It’s been a long day.”

#

“Sir, we have a problem.”

“What is it now?” Agent Johnson demanded, feeling the weight of too many days without sleep and bad coffee besides.

“The suspect, Graham, sir.”

“Is he still blathering about the Devil?”

“No sir, he’s, well, I don’t quite know how it happened –“

“Oh just spit it out man.”

“He’s dead sir. Murdered.”