15. Fifteen

Chloe is no stranger to the sensation of flying.

She’s been on airplanes. She’s been in helicopters. She went paragliding with Jed once. Trixie begged to go ziplining the last time they went camping, and Dan hates stuff like that, so Chloe took her. 

None of that even remotely compares to flying with an angel for the first time. 

Well, okay, it’s not the first time. She knows that after Pierce’s goon shot her in the chest, Lucifer flew her up to the roof. But she doesn’t remember that, so it doesn’t count. And okay, fine, Michael briefly flew her above a car a few weeks ago. But it happened so fast she doesn’t really remember that either, and even if she did she wouldn’t count it, because it was Michael and Michael is a dick. 

This, though—this counts. 

It takes a few seconds for it to sink in. She turns her head and sees the glittering L.A. skyline in the distance, and then her gaze trips downward and she sees the bridge below them. The police cruisers are parked around the bike, and the cops themselves appear to be staring over the edge of the parapet. They must think the collision sent her and Lucifer over the side of the bridge and down to the concrete below. 

Except they didn’t go over the side of the bridge. They went up. They’re two hundred feet in the air, and his wings are making a soft fwap fwap fwap sound, and holy fucking shit they’re flying. 

A strangled cry rips out of Chloe’s throat. She flings her arms around Lucifer’s neck, curls inward, and buries her face in his chest. 

“Detective?” Lucifer says, his voice tinged with concern.

“Oh my god,” Chloe mutters, clinging to him. “Oh my god we’re flying right now.”

She feels a laugh rumble through his chest. “My father isn’t the one preventing you from falling hundreds of feet to your death, darling. Might I suggest Oh my Devil instead?”

Chloe punches him in his chest but doesn’t lift her head. “This isn’t funny, Lucifer.”

“It’s a little funny,” he says, and she can hear the smirk in his voice. “I had no idea you were afraid of heights.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why is your face currently buried in my Prada suit instead of enjoying the view?”

He has a point. Chloe takes a deep breath, and then pulls her head back just far enough to glance up at him. 

His hair is flying loose in the wind. There’s a broad and brilliant smile on his lips, and his eyes are bright with joy. He looks so happy it steals the breath out of her lungs. He looks down at her, and the joy in his eyes doesn’t dim. If anything, it seems brighter. 

“My face is a sight to behold,” Lucifer says, his smile softening into something affectionate. “But I meant the city.”

He nods into the distance, and Chloe follows his gaze. 

The skyline is brilliant against the black sky. The highway snakes past the towers of downtown, littered with headlights and taillights. The rest of the city creeps outward, sprawling and huge and twinkling beneath them. It’s breathtaking.

“Wow,” Chloe breathes. 

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Lucifer murmurs. “Everything looks different from up here.”

There’s something in his voice that draws Chloe’s eyes back to his face. “You like to fly,” she observes.

“I do.” He searches her eyes, and then says softly, “Do you?”

Chloe peers down at the ground. Her stomach clenches at how high they are, but Lucifer’s arms are solid around her. The wind is freezing and her dress is doing nothing to shield her from the chill, but Lucifer’s body is warm against hers. The city is stunningly beautiful beneath them, and they’re together. She’s never felt safer.

She looks back at him. “Yeah, I do.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, and if Chloe didn’t know any better she’d think he was trying not to cry. She looks closer, realizes his eyes are glassy, and furrows her eyebrows. Maybe he is trying not to cry. Was it something she said?

“Lucifer?” she murmurs. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” he says quietly. His eyes flicker over her face as if he’s trying to memorize it, and then he grins. “If we’re going to get to where we’re going at some point in this millennia, though, I’ll need to move a little faster. Are you ready?”

She tightens her arms around his neck. “Uh...yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

He smiles. “I won’t drop you, Detective.”

“I know. I trust you.”

He studies her, that awed expression on his face once again. She’s opening her mouth to say something along the lines of Seriously, why do you keep looking at me like that? but she doesn’t get the chance. He tightens his hold on her, gives her a wicked grin, and then shoots forward into the night.

Chloe yelps in surprise and curls closer to him. They’re moving fast. The air is hard and cold as it streams past them. Her hair is whipping wildly around her face and her dress is fluttering against her legs. She has to squint against the wind, and her eyes are watering a little, but she doesn’t dare close them. She doesn’t want to miss a second of this. Not the glittering streets and glowing buildings beneath them, or the wide smile on Lucifer’s lips, or the gleaming white of his wings behind him, rising and falling and filling her ears with a steady fwap fwap fwap.  

Eventually, when they’re close to the outskirts of the city, Lucifer slows down. He comes to a stop over a dark and empty parking lot behind a battered looking building, and then descends toward the ground slowly. His feet hit the pavement, and his wings flap once more and then stretch out and hover. 

Chloe stares. Now that they’re still, she can’t get over how huge they are. His wingspan is...it’s got to be at least fifteen feet. 

Lucifer leans forward, lowering his arm beneath her legs to put her down. Her high heels hit the pavement with a sharp click. Once she’s on her own two feet again, she finally manages to tear her gaze away from his wings. 

She flushes when she realizes he caught her staring. “Sorry,” she murmurs. 

He shakes his head and smiles. “You’re a detective by trade, darling. Truth be told, I’d be concerned if you weren’t curious. You’re curious about everything.” 

He doesn’t sound offended, and he’s smiling, so she lets her eyes wander back to his wings. 

They’re beautiful. She wonders if the elegant top curves are bone or cartilage or something else, something celestial, but doesn’t ask. The feathers at the top are smaller, almost delicate. They grow in size as the wing descends downward, and the ones at the bottom are long and large. There are so many of them and they’re so stunningly white that they seem to light up the dark parking lot. 

She lifts her hand without thinking, wanting to touch them to see if they’re as soft and glossy as they look, but she catches herself. 

She stops with her hand stretched out halfway to his wing and glances up at him. He’s standing ramrod straight, and the smile is no longer on his lips. He hasn’t recoiled from her, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be touched. She thinks about that day in his penthouse early in their partnership, when she saw his scars and tried to touch them. She still remembers the tightness of his fingers around her wrist and the way his voice sounded. 

Don’t. Please.

She searches his eyes, wondering if he’ll repeat the same thing to her now, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I…?” she asks softly.

He shifts from one foot to the other, swallows hard, and then nods.

That’s not a firm enough confirmation for her. She drops her hand to make it clear that she means what she’s about to say. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

He glances down at her hand hanging by her side. She waits for him. He takes a deep breath and then lifts his chin. “You’re more than welcome to touch me in whatever way you please, Detective.”

She studies him. She’s still unsure, but it’s the knowledge that he doesn’t lie to her that helps make up her mind. He wouldn’t say she was welcome to touch him if he didn’t mean it. 

She lifts her hand slowly, trying to give him plenty of time to change his mind and recoil, but he stands as still as a statue before her. She looks away from his face and toward his wing, and then closes the last bit of distance and strokes her fingertips lightly over the feathers next to his elbow.

He flinches. She yanks her hand back and snaps her gaze up to meet his. 

“Sorry,” she says.

He shakes his head. “No, I…” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, and then opens his eyes and lets his breath out in a short burst. “Go ahead.”

She hates that he seems to be steeling himself to be touched. He used to be like this before, back when he asked her to sleep with him every five minutes but froze every time she offered any semblance of meaningful physical affection. He’s been different ever since she told him that she loves him. He doesn’t just tolerate physical affection anymore—he welcomes it and even seeks it out. She loves that. And she doesn’t want to jeopardize it by crossing a boundary he wants to keep. 

“Lucifer,” she starts.

“It’s all right, Detective,” he interrupts. “Go ahead. I want you to.”

“Are you sure? Because your body language is saying that’s the last thing you want.”

He sighs. He rolls his shoulders a little, though his wings don’t disappear. He adjusts the collar of his shirt, and then his cufflinks. He’s fidgeting. Which isn’t unheard of—he is Lucifer, after all—but this seems different than his usual busyness. He seems...uncomfortable. 

She made him uncomfortable. 

Guilt flares in her chest. “I’m sorry, Lucifer,” she says, folding her hands together in front of her. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” he says, lifting his hand. 

Chloe presses her lips together. 

Lucifer rolls his shoulders again. She wonders if it’s a nervous tic. She’s never seen him do it like that before, but she’s also never seen him with his wings out for this long. She’s dying to look at them again but she doesn’t want to stare, so she forces herself to focus on his face. 

“I have a complicated relationship with my wings,” he says eventually, finally meeting her gaze. “I don’t particularly enjoy exploring the feelings they inspire, and I certainly don’t wish to discuss those feelings with the vast majority of humans, so it’s easier to pretend they don’t exist. Which means, of course, that I’m not...I’m not accustomed to being touched.” 

Chloe frowns. “What about Eve?”

“What about her?”

“You never...I mean, she didn’t touch them?”

Lucifer smiles sadly. “She never asked, and I never offered. Quite frankly, I don’t think it was the angelic side of me that she cared for.” 

A tidal wave of sadness crashes over Chloe. Every time she thinks she understands how lonely he’s been, she’s confronted with something else that makes her realize she has no idea. 

Her first instinct is to touch him. She’s always been a toucher with people she loves. But Lucifer isn’t like her, and she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable again, and her wanting to touch him is what brought about this entire conversation in the first place. Then again, she knows how often he overthinks things. If she avoids touching him, he’ll notice that too. She doesn’t want to give him a reason to question her feelings for him or her faith in their relationship. Not after the hell they’ve been through tonight. 

She wavers, undecided, and then makes up her mind. She reaches forward—slowly, so as not to startle him—and grabs his hands, because she knows that’s a touch he won’t mind. His hands animate in hers immediately, and he strokes his thumbs over her skin. 

“I care about all your sides, Lucifer,” she murmurs, tipping her head back to look him in the eye. “I love all of you. But that doesn’t mean you owe me, okay? You don’t have to do things you don’t want to do. I only want what you’re willing to give. So if you don’t want—”

“That’s just it, Detective,” he cuts her off, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I do. I want it very much.”

She frowns. “Then why…?”

He rolls his shoulders again. “This is all very new for me. I’ve never…”

He swallows and seems unable to finish.

“Let someone this close?” she supplies.  

He nods. The look on his face is so earnest that Chloe’s heart shoots straight into her throat. She loves him so much, more than she’s ever loved anyone she’s been with, but somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. How can she give him everything he’s lacked for millennia? How can she possibly make him see that he deserves so much more than what he believes?

“I’ll be as close as you want me, Lucifer,” she murmurs, her voice catching. “Just tell me what you want.”

He tilts closer to her. “Touch them.”

She searches his eyes for any trace of indecision. There isn’t one. So she lifts her hand slowly, keeping her gaze locked with his, and strokes her fingertips gently over the feathers by his elbow. He shivers a little, but doesn’t move. She licks her lips, and then glances at his wing and watches as her fingers stroke over his feathers again. They’re like silk beneath her skin. She lifts her hand up to the small feathers at the top, rubbing them gently between her fingers, and then flattens her hand against his wing and trails her palm down to the larger ones. 

When she glances up at him, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are closed. She freezes, her hand hovering close to his wing but no longer touching him, and he snaps his eyes open. 

“Is this okay?” she asks.

“More than,” he says quietly. 

She strokes her fingers over his feathers again. “What’s it feel like?”

He seems to consider the question, and then he lifts his hand and buries it in her hair, his fingers threading through the strands on the nape of her neck. “Like that, I’d imagine.”

“So good then.”

He smiles. “Yes, Detective. It always feels good when you touch me.”

She strokes her fingers over him again. His wing quivers beneath her touch. She’s opening her mouth to ask him if his wings have different nerves than the rest of his body because he seems even more responsive to her touch than usual, but she gets cut off by the distant sound of angry shouting. 

She drops her hand and turns, starting to slide between Lucifer and the edge of the parking lot on a cop reflex, but he seems to have the same idea and tries to shield her. Their shoulders collide. He’s solid—like, angel solid—and far bigger than her, so she bounces a little off him. He catches her elbow to steady her. She hears a faint woosh, and when she glances at him, his wings are gone. 

More shouting erupts, and they turn in unison to see a group of men sauntering by on the sidewalk. They either don’t notice or don’t care that Lucifer and Chloe are in the parking lot. Chloe waits until they’re out of earshot and then turns toward Lucifer.

“Where are we?” she wonders. Being hundreds of feet above L.A. is more than a little disorienting, and she doesn’t recognize her surroundings.

“Just south of the 105,” Lucifer replies. 

“Why’d you bring us here?” 

“Because we need to get out of L.A. undetected, and the man who will help us do that works out of the motel around the corner.”

Chloe arches an eyebrow. “I’m guessing this guy isn’t exactly a law-abiding citizen?”

Lucifer grins. “Neither are we at the moment.”

“Right,” Chloe says. She’d almost forgotten that a few minutes ago, she was on the wrong end of a high-speed chase. “Well, then, lead the way.”

Lucifer offers her his arm with a smile. Chloe loops her arm through his, and then he leads her out of the parking lot and down the sidewalk toward a semi-busy street. He hangs a left at a store front with a boarded up front door and windows, and they walk past an overgrown lot that’s partially enclosed by a chain link fence that’s definitely seen better days. 

“It’s this building here,” Lucifer says, nodding at the yellow building to their left. Up ahead, a tall, bright blue sign proclaims that the building is a motel. Beneath it are the words color TVs and king beds.   

“Color TVs, huh?” Chloe says. “Fancy.”

Lucifer leers at her. “And king beds.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. Lucifer leads her into a small parking lot that’s empty and dotted with potholes. They climb three steps, and walk past the empty front office and down an open-air hallway until they get to a room marked by a chrome number four. Lucifer pounds on the door with his fist. 

A moment passes, and then the door swings open. A thin man with jet black hair and a goatee answers. His jeans are ripped stylishly, and his black t-shirt bears the bedazzled forms of two naked women—one with devil horns and a tail, and the other with a halo. 

“Good evening, Javier,” Lucifer says with a smile.

“Lucifer,” Javier greets, sounding surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yes, well, it’s a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.”

Javier glances at Chloe and then double takes. His eyes travel slowly over her body as his mouth falls open. “Damn,” he murmurs. 

Chloe isn’t sure if she should be flattered or offended. 

Lucifer seems offended. “This is my girlfriend,” he says stiffly. “I suggest you stop undressing her with your eyes if you wish to keep your skull attached to your spine.”

Javier immediately snaps to attention. “Sorry. I uh…” He frowns. “Did you say girlfriend?”

“Indeed,” Lucifer says. “Now are you going to invite us in, or have you lost every ounce of your discretion since last we spoke?”

Javier straightens. “Right. My bad.” He scurries out of the doorway and swings the door open wide. “Come in.”

Lucifer slides his hand along Chloe’s lower back and guides her across the threshold of the motel room and then follows her inside. She pauses a few feet inside the door, but Lucifer continues past her toward the bathroom, where he hovers in the doorway and fusses with his windswept hair.

Chloe watches him with a smirk. She never thought she’d end up with a man who cares more about his hair than she cares about hers. Then again, she never thought she’d end up in love with the actual Devil, either. 

She turns away from him and surveys her surroundings. For the most part, it’s exactly what she expected based on the outside of the building: faded carpet, neutral walls, and a king sized bed with a bedspread that was last in fashion a few decades ago. A half-empty pizza box is on the bed, and a six pack of cheap beer is sitting on the bedside table next to a bong. Mounted on the exterior wall across from the bed, though, is a massive and very expensive television that’s definitely out of place in a motel like this. The screen is paused on a video game. She has no idea which one. 

Behind her, the front door shuts with a thud. She turns toward the sound. Javier meets her gaze and offers his hand with a sheepish smile. “Hi. I’m Javier.”

“Chloe,” she says, shaking his hand. 

Javier glances at Lucifer, who is still focused on his hair, and then back to her. “Sorry about that,” he says quietly, jerking his thumb toward the door. “You’re just uh…” 

“Painfully beautiful?” Lucifer supplies, turning to face them. “Yes, she’s aware. She’s also very modest, which means you’re probably making her uncomfortable. I suggest you stop that before I get cross.”

Javier swallows. “Right. Sure. My bad.” He casts an apologetic look at Chloe. “Sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe says. “Really.”

Lucifer crosses the room to stand next to her, and then glances toward the TV. “I assume you’re not busy?”

Javier frowns. “Actually I was kind of in the middle of…” 

He trails off when Lucifer lifts his eyebrows. 

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “Not busy. Not at all. What can I do for you?”

“The Detective and I—”

“Wait, Detective?” Javier interrupts. He looks at Chloe in horror. “You’re a cop? ”

“Javier,” Lucifer says, holding out his hands. “Before you freak out—”

It’s too late. Javier is already freaking out. 

“Are you kidding me?!” he demands, backing as far away from Chloe as he can get in the small room. “What the hell is wrong with you, man? You brought a cop here? Here? This is my sanctuary, Lucifer!” 

Lucifer glances around the room with his lip curled in distaste. “I’m fairly certain this dump isn’t worthy of that moniker, Javi.”

“Probably shouldn’t insult the guy we need help from,” Chloe points out.

“Nevertheless,” Lucifer says, nodding at Chloe, “I understand the point you’re making. You feel betrayed.”

“Of course I feel fucking betrayed!” Javier scowls. “How would you like it if I brought a priest to your club?” 

“Actually, I’ve had a priest in my club,” Lucifer says. “Delightful fellow. Hell of a piano player.”

“Still adorable,” Chloe murmurs under her breath. 

Lucifer frowns at her. 

Chloe shrugs. “Just saying.” 

Javier glances between them incredulously and then gestures at the door. “You have to go. Now. Get out.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “I’m afraid we can’t do that, Javier. You and I have a contract, and I expect you to honor it. We require your services.”

“You ain’t getting shit from me, man,” Javier says. “You brought a cop with you. How could you do this to me? Haven’t I always done right by you? Haven’t I always gotten you what you want, when you want it?”

“Indeed you have. And now you’re going to do it again.”

“No way, man. Why would I help the guy who ratted me out?”

Lucifer sighs. “No one is ratting you out, all right? Calm down. We’re here because we’re trying to avoid the cops.”

“But she’s a cop!” Javier says incredulously, gesturing at Chloe.

Lucifer clenches his jaw, and Chloe knows he’s having a hard time keeping his temper in check. That’s her cue.

She holds her hands up in what she hopes is a disarming gesture. “Look, Javier, I don’t care what you do for a living, all right? I’m not here in a professional capacity. As far as I know, you’re a law-abiding citizen who enjoys video games and helping old ladies cross the street.”

Javier narrows his eyes at her. “How do you know about my abuela? You been watching us?”

Chloe frowns. “What? No. I didn’t…” She sighs. “Look, I’m not a cop right now, okay?” 

Lucifer smirks at her. 

She tilts her head. “Well, okay, I’m always a cop. But I’m sort of on the wrong side of the law at the moment.”

Javier frowns. “What?”

“We’re on the run,” Lucifer says impatiently. “We went rogue. We’re fugitives. Which, by the way, is quite an accomplishment for this one. You wouldn’t believe how much she loves rules and procedure. Goody two shoes is an understatement.”

“Hey,” Chloe says with a frown. 

“It’s true, darling,” he replies. “It’d be appalling if it wasn’t so endearing.”

“Endearing?” Javier repeats in bewilderment. 

Lucifer grins. “Truth be told, I find it rather attractive when she starts rattling off procedural codes. Oh, and when she sees someone breaking a rule but she’s trying to play it cool, her nose does this adorable little scrunching thing that…” 

He trails off when he realizes Javier is looking at him like he just grew a second head. 

“Nevermind,” Lucifer says, straightening. “Not the time to wax poetic.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Javier demands. “Are you high?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Lucifer says. He casts a hopeful glance at Chloe. “But that might be on the agenda later.” 

Chloe gives him a look.

He straightens obediently. “Right. We require your services, Javier. And since you’ll be helping us evade arrest, you needn’t worry about the Detective arresting you.”

Javier glances at Chloe.

She shakes her head. “I won’t arrest you. I swear. Couldn’t if I wanted to. I don’t have my handcuffs on me.”

“Pity,” Lucifer sighs.

Chloe shoots him another look. “Can you focus, please?”

He grins and gives her a once over. “I am.”

Chloe rolls her eyes.

“How do I know you won’t call for backup?” Javier asks suspiciously. 

“Because if I did, they’d get here and arrest me instead of you,” Chloe replies. “I’ve resisted arrest multiple times tonight and I led them on a high speed chase. Speaking from experience, cops don’t really like that.” 

Javier frowns. “Wait. That was you guys?”

“What was us?” Lucifer asks. 

“The high speed chase,” Javier answers. “I got an alert on my phone from KTLA about it.“

“KTLA?” Chloe asks. “Like, the local news?”

“Yeah,” Javier says. He reaches into his pocket. “Here, I’ll show you.” He pulls his phone out and glances down at the screen, and then frowns. “Oh.”

“Oh what?” Lucifer asks.

Javier looks up. “Just got another alert. The LAPD is holding a press conference about a kidnapped detective.”

Lucifer and Chloe share a look.

“Is that you?” Javier wonders.

“Where’s the TV remote?” Chloe asks instead of answering. 

Javier points at the bedside table. “It’s there next to my...not bong. That is not a bong. It’s a...prop. For a movie. That I’m in. As an extra.”

“You’re clearly lying,” Lucifer says. “But just for the record, you should not go into acting. You’re terrible at it.” 

“Rude,” Javier accuses.

“Truthful,” Lucifer counters. “Not my fault if it hurts.”

Chloe ignores them both and snatches the remote off the table. She switches the television’s input until she finds live TV, and then flips channels until she finds KTLA. She immediately recognizes the navy background that the LAPD uses for press conferences, and the wooden podium with the LAPD seal mounted on the front and a dozen microphones arranged in a half-circle. The American flag and the California flag are positioned on either side of the screen, but there’s no one at the podium. 

“Maybe we missed it,” Javier says.

The words are barely out of his mouth when Jax walks onto the screen.

Chloe’s heart stops in her chest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she understands why Jax is the one giving the press conference. But as she stares at him on the screen, she’s not thinking about how he’s her boss’s boss. She’s thinking about him standing next to her father’s grave, holding her mother while she cried at the funeral. She’s thinking about her wedding day, when he kissed her on the cheek right before he walked her down the aisle and said, You look beautiful, kid. She’s thinking about the day she got promoted to detective, and how Jax smiled at her from the other side of a high-top table at the bar where they were celebrating and said I’m proud of you, Hollywood. And your dad would be too. 

Jax isn’t smiling now. He looks tired. His salt and pepper hair is buzzed close to his head, and his uniform is pressed neatly. The two silver bars on his collar that identify him as a captain gleam under a sudden flurry of camera flashes. Lieutenant Keller and the Chief of Police appear behind him. Chloe’s stomach sinks. If the Chief is there, this isn’t going to be good.

“Good evening,” Jax says, looking straight at the camera. “My name is Captain David Jackson.”

“Wait a minute,” Lucifer says quietly. He looks at Chloe. “Is that your…?”

“Yeah,” she says, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “That’s Jax.”

Jax clears his throat. “This evening at approximately 10:34 pm, officers responded to a call about an officer in distress at the Lux Nightclub in downtown Los Angeles. The officer in question was Detective Chloe Decker, who serves under my command in the Robbery-Homicide Division as a homicide detective.”

“Under his command?” Lucifer repeats, frowning at Chloe. “You mean he’s—”

“Keller’s boss,” Chloe confirms. “And mine.”

“For the past few years, Detective Decker has been working alongside a civilian consultant by the name of Lucifer Morningstar, the owner and proprietor of the Lux Nightclub. Earlier this evening, the LAPD received a tip that Mr. Morningstar has been using the connections he’s established through his work with Detective Decker to bolster his extensive criminal network and enterprises.”

“Hey, way to go, bro,” Javier says with a grin. 

“That’s a lie,” Lucifer hisses. 

The grin drops off Javier’s face. 

“Our investigation into his illicit activities is ongoing,” Jax says. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of his specific crimes, though I can say that we’ve uncovered a considerable amount of evidence that points to some truly horrific acts. It is our belief that Detective Decker was alerted to these crimes, and confronted Mr. Morningstar in his penthouse apartment earlier this evening. His response to her confrontation was violent in nature, and triggered the distress call our officers responded to.”

Anger flares in Chloe’s chest. The idea that Lucifer would hurt her is so ridiculous it makes her want to throw the remote at the TV. 

“When officers arrived in the penthouse to assist Detective Decker, Mr. Morningstar resisted arrest and injured several of them,” Jax says. 

“That wasn’t me, that was her!” Lucifer sputters. 

“Since then, he has assaulted and injured an additional two dozen officers as well as several civilians.”

“All right, that was me,” Lucifer grumbles. “But they started it.” 

Javier snorts.

On the screen, Jax narrows his eyes into a glare and scans the room of reporters. “I would like to make it crystal clear that Detective Decker was not involved in or even aware of Mr. Morningstar’s illegal activities prior to this evening. Although she appears to be assisting him now, eyewitness testimony indicates that Mr. Morningstar may be forcing her to do so by threatening to harm her young daughter and other family members.”

Chloe glances at Lucifer. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are curled into fists. 

“As most of you in this room are aware, officers were involved in a high speed chase not long ago,” Jax continues. “I can confirm that they were in pursuit of Detective Decker and Mr. Morningstar, who have—for the time being—avoided capture. As we speak, the LAPD is collaborating with neighboring jurisdictions, the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, and state and federal authorities to conduct a manhunt. Citizens should expect to see a considerably stronger police presence throughout the city and county in the coming days. We believe such efforts are necessary, given the threat posed by Mr. Morningstar.”

Jax clears his throat, puts his hands on either side of the podium, and looks straight into the camera. “I’d now like to speak directly to Detective Decker in case she’s watching or listening.”

Lucifer and Javier glance at Chloe. She keeps her eyes glued to the TV.

“Chloe,” Jax says, his voice softening. “The evidence against Mr. Morningstar is significant in both size and scope. I know—we all know—that the only reason you’re helping him now is to protect your daughter. But she’s safe. She and the rest of your family are in protective custody and will remain there, under my watch, until Mr. Morningstar is apprehended. You have my word. So if you’re listening...do whatever you need to do to come home. Your daughter needs you.”

He stares at the camera for a beat longer, and then scans the room. “Thank you. That will be all. We won’t be taking questions at this time.”

He walks off screen, followed by Keller and the Chief. The camera lingers on the empty podium for a moment, and then it cuts away and a brunette news anchor appears on screen. 

The news anchor starts talking, but Chloe doesn’t hear what she says. She’s not listening. All she can hear is Jax’s voice, deep and familiar and filled with concern. Come home. Your daughter needs you. 

Trixie’s face flashes through her mind next, her cheeks streaked with tears and her arms outstretched. Don’t leave me! 

Dan follows. You either dump that asshole or I’m suing for full custody. 

Chloe thinks of the voicemail on her phone from her mom, and the colleagues she hurt at the penthouse. She thinks about how every law enforcement officer within a hundred miles is now focused on hunting her down and separating her from Lucifer, and there’s nothing she can do about it. She can’t stop any of this. She can’t fix it.

She’s helpless.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe. She feels like she’s underwater, and she can’t tell which way is up, and her lungs are screaming for oxygen but she can’t get any. 

She can’t breathe. 

She faintly registers the feel of Lucifer’s hands on hers, pulling the TV remote gently from her grasp. He steps between her and the TV and ducks forward to look at her. 

“Detective?” he says softly. 

She sucks in a breath. It’s not enough. Her lungs are screaming. Her vision is swimming and dotted with black spots. She sucks in another breath.

“Chloe,” Lucifer says, sounding worried. He lifts his hands to her face. She flinches at his touch. He freezes, his eyebrows furrowing. 

Chloe suddenly remembers how guilty he looked at the club when she admitted that she was afraid Zatanna wouldn’t be able to fix this. He looks that way now, too, and she hates that. The motel room feels increasingly small and stiflingly hot and she’s still struggling to breathe, but she doesn’t want to fall apart in front of him. He’ll blame himself, and he shouldn’t. None of this is his fault. It’s better for him—kinder of her—if she breaks down alone.

She swallows hard and wraps her fingers around his wrists to pull his hands down from her face. “I…” she starts. Her voice comes out sounding like a croak. She clears her throat and tries again. “I need to get some air.”

Lucifer frowns. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, shaking her head. She gestures at Javier. “You guys, uh...you do your thing so we can get out of here. I’ll just be outside.”

Lucifer’s frown deepens. “Detective—”

“I’m fine,” she cuts him off. “I just need a second.”

She stumbles toward the door before Lucifer can try to argue with her again. He doesn’t follow her. She reaches for the handle with shaking hands, swings the door open and steps outside, and then pulls it shut behind her. 

Her vision starts to blur with tears the second she gets outside. She inhales a ragged breath and staggers down the corridor, her heels clicking on the pavement. She gets as far as the steps outside the front office, and then her knees give way. 

She doesn’t fight it. She just sinks down on the steps, curls in on herself, and cries.

For a moment after the door slams shut, a heavy silence hangs in the air.

Lucifer stares at the closed door that the Detective exited through, frozen and choking around the icy fingers of guilt wrapping around his throat. He thinks he can smell the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. Usually, that scent brings him pleasure. Right now, though, all it does is remind him that she’s gone. She left him. She was upset and struggling not to cry, just like that night he told her about Uriel, only this time she wouldn’t let him hold her. She flinched when he touched her. She pulled his hands away from her face and she stepped away from him and left because she didn’t...

She didn’t want him to be near her.

“Uh, Lucifer?” Javier says, interrupting the silence. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

Lucifer clenches his jaw against the hurt and guilt warring in his chest and clears his throat. “No,” he says, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off his shirt sleeve. “I am not.”

Javier frowns. “I’m pretty sure she’s out there crying.”

The guilt returns with a vengeance. Lucifer struggles with it for a moment before he finally manages to wrestle it into submission. “The Detective asked for some space,” he says stiffly. “I intend to honor her wish.”

Javier shakes his head. “Nah, man, see, women don’t always mean what they say. Sometimes—”

“No means no, Javier,” Lucifer cuts him off. “She said no. End of discussion.”

Javier nods. “Right. Okay.”

An awkward silence ensues. Lucifer tries not to glance longingly at the door. He wants to go after her so badly, but he’s terrified that she’ll recoil from him. He can’t bear that. 

“So,” Javier says eventually. “I’m guessing you want to hang out in one of my safehouses until all this blows over?”

“No,” Lucifer says, shaking his head. “It’s not safe for her in L.A. We need a vehicle.”

“You got a preference, or…?”

“I’d like an SUV. She’ll be more comfortable that way. Make sure it has tinted windows.” He thinks of the Detective shivering at the beach, and then again in his arms while they flew here. “And heated seats.”

Javier strides toward the bed and plucks an iPad off the bedside table. “All right,” he says, his finger tapping the screen. “I’ll pull up some options for you. You want cash too?”

“Yes. The entirety of my initial deposit with you should suffice.”

Javier looks up in surprise. “You want that much?”

“Yes,” Lucifer says, folding his hands behind his back and pacing across the room. “Small bills, obviously.”

Javier snorts. “Obviously. Identities?”

“Two sets, I think,” Lucifer says. “Better safe than sorry.” He glances at Javier. “Unless doing so in such a short amount of time isn’t feasible?”

Javier grins. “Come on, man. There’s a reason you have a contract with me and not some other guy, right?”

Lucifer nods. “Indeed.”

“I can make them married couples if you want.”

Lucifer’s steps hitch.

“I know you’re not actually married,” Javier says, sounding apologetic. “But when I do pairs I usually make them legally married because it’s easier to—”

“That’s fine,” Lucifer cuts him off. He’s trying not to think about what it would be like to see a ring on the Detective’s fourth finger and know that he’d placed it there. “Married is fine.”

“Okay. Let me make some calls—”

“Not so fast. There are a few additional things I require.”

Javier lifts his eyebrows. “All right. What do you need?”

Lucifer slides his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to make a list of food and drink that I’d like one of your lackeys to purchase and bring with the car.”

Javier grins. “Got the munchies?”

Lucifer doesn’t return his smile. “I also need a gun. A Glock 19, to be exact. Untraceable, fully loaded, and with plenty of extra ammunition available.”

“If you want something bigger, I’ve got—”

“I want a Glock 19,” Lucifer says firmly. 

He thinks about the way the Detective stands when she’s got her badge and her gun on her hip, and the way she’d been standing a few minutes ago when she watched the press conference. His chest aches. 

“Nothing else will do.”

Javier nods. “You got it, man.”

Chloe isn’t sure how long she sits outside. 

Long enough to cry out all the tears she’s got. Long enough to wish that she hadn’t left Lucifer’s jacket back at the club too. She’s cold. 

She’s getting to her feet to go back to Javier’s motel room when a black Escalade pulls into the parking lot. The windows are tinted, so she can’t see who’s driving. It’s not the kind of car a cop would drive, but Jax’s press conference is still fresh enough in her mind that she turns her face away so that the driver can’t see her. She starts to walk down the hallway, but stops when Javier’s door swings open and Javier steps outside. 

Lucifer follows and closes the door behind him. Chloe’s heart shoots into her throat when their eyes meet. His gaze flickers over her body as he walks toward her, but there’s no desire in it. He seems to be assessing her for injuries. 

“Ride’s here,” Javier says brightly as he passes her. 

Chloe ignores him. She reaches for Lucifer as soon as he’s close enough and grabs his hand. He stops next to her.

“All right?” he murmurs.

She nods. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” 

His voice sounds...off. She studies his face, but she can’t read his expression. That worries her. “Are you okay?” she asks, tilting closer to him. 

“Of course,” he says, flashing her a smile. “You needn’t worry yourself over me, Detective.”

“But—”

“Come along. We need to get out of the city before your colleagues get their bearings.”

He brushes past her without another word. He doesn’t let go of her hand, but Chloe doesn’t find that reassuring. 

“Slick, right?” Javier says before she can say anything else. “Who says you can’t evade arrest in style?”

Chloe tears her eyes away from Lucifer to see Javier gesturing at the Escalade with a proud smirk. The door on the driver’s side opens, and a tall man in a red stocking cap gets out. He gives Chloe a once over, casts an uninterested look at Lucifer, and then holds out the keys to Javier. 

“Wait, this is for us?” Chloe asks in surprise.

“Yep,” Javier says with a grin. 

Lucifer seems unimpressed. “I chose the Mercedes.”

Javier sighs. “You also requested tinted windows, heated seats, and a shit ton of other stuff, and you only gave me half an hour to get it all done. You got everything except the car brand, my dude. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Given the price tag of our current exchange, I think it’s clear I’m anything but a beggar,” Lucifer says stiffly. “What about the other items I requested?”

Javier looks at the guy in the red hat, who jerks his head toward the back of the SUV and says, “Trunk.”

Javier fumbles with the key fob until he finds the right button. The trunk lifts slowly, and Lucifer leads Chloe by the hand to the back of the car. There are two black gym bags and a pair of white plastic bags sitting in the trunk. Javier reaches for the first gym bag, unzips it, and then tips it toward Lucifer. 

Chloe’s mouth falls open. There are stacks and stacks of cash inside. 

Javier glances up at Lucifer. “Small bills, unmarked and untraceable. You want to count it? I’ve got a machine inside.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “No.”

Javier drops the cash bag, reaches for the second gym bag, and unzips it. He shoves his hand inside and pulls out four passports. “Two identities for each of you, just in case one set gets compromised,” he says. “Matching drivers’ licenses are in there too. Oh, and cell phones.” 

“You created new identities for us in half an hour?” Chloe says incredulously. 

Javier grins at her. “Wasn’t even hard.”

“Javier is the best at what he does, Detective,” Lucifer says. “That’s why we’re here.”

“And I’m not done yet,” Javier says, his grin widening. 

He snatches one of the white plastic bags and holds it out to Chloe. She lets go of Lucifer’s hand to take the bag from Javier and peer inside. It contains a box of Club crackers, a giant bag of assorted chocolate, and two bottles of the brand of iced tea that she sometimes drinks on stakeouts. She looks up at Lucifer. 

“There should be healthier options in the other bag,” he says. “If that’s what you would prefer.”

Chloe blinks at him. “You asked him to get me snacks?”

He looks uncomfortable. “Well, I assumed you’d be a bit peckish and I didn’t think you’d be too keen on going through a drive thru, given our current predicament. But if you’d prefer something more substantial, I can—”

“No,” Chloe cuts him off. “That’s not…” 

She trails off and holds his gaze. She wants to step into his space and lift her hands to his face and ask him why he’s so worried she’ll disapprove, and why he seems so far away when he’s standing right in front of her. But Javier and the guy with the red hat are staring at them, so she reaches out and squeezes Lucifer’s arm instead. 

“Thank you,” she says.

 He smiles at her and then looks at Javier. “And the final item?”

Javier glances at red hat guy, who lifts his shirt and pulls a Glock out of his waistband. Chloe stiffens, but he offers the gun to Lucifer with a bored expression. 

“It’s for her, actually,” Lucifer says, nodding at Chloe. “I’m more of a fisticuffs man myself.”

The driver offers the gun to Chloe, still wearing the same bored expression. Chloe blinks at him in surprise for a second, and then hands the plastic bag back to Javier and takes the gun. 

It’s stupid, maybe, but she feels like the familiar weight of it in her hand eases just a little of the heaviness that’s been sitting on her chest since she left Trixie. She wonders if Lucifer knew that would happen. She glances up at him. He’s watching her closely, like he’s trying to gauge her reaction, and she knows he did. Warmth flickers in her chest and spreads. 

She slips beneath his arm and folds herself into his side, her arm tight around his back. He looks down at her in surprise, but doesn’t hesitate to drape his arm around her shoulders. 

“Well?” Javier says, holding his arms out. “How’d I do? Awesome, right?”

“Yes, well done, Javier,” Lucifer says. “I never doubted you for a moment.”

“You sure you guys don’t want to stay at one of my places until this blows over? I got a sweet ass place out in Malibu that no one will find you in.”

Lucifer snorts. “Mazikeen will.”

Javier frowns. “Who?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lucifer says. “Keys?”

Javier tosses him the keys. The guy in the red hat shuts the trunk. Chloe walks around to the other side of the SUV and climbs into the passenger seat, content to let Lucifer drive. 

Lucifer gets in the driver’s side and slams the door, and then presses a button to roll the window down when Javier steps toward the car. 

“At least tell me where you’re going,” Javier says. “That way if you send me an SOS signal, I can send someone to get you.”

“That would be foolish,” Lucifer replies as he starts the car. 

“Foolish?” Javier repeats with a frown. 

Lucifer sighs. “Yes, Javier. Mazikeen won’t be far behind us. If I tell you where we’re headed, you’ll tell her. And then we’ll be back to square one, and I have no patience for that.”

Javier frowns. “I’m not a snitch, Lucifer.”

Lucifer smiles. “That’s what everyone says before they meet Maze.” 

“Lucifer,” Chloe says, reaching out to touch his arm. “Won’t he tell her the names on the IDs?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “He doesn’t know what they are. I altered them from what he selected just before the physical documents were rendered, and they’ve been deleted from his system. We’re untraceable, darling, I assure you.” 

He puts his hand on the gear stick and turns back to Javier. “Thank you again, Javier, but we won’t be needing anything else. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He grins. “Well, until Maze shows up anyway.”

Lucifer rolls the window up in Javier’s face, and then shoves the gear stick into drive and guides the SUV toward the parking lot exit. 

Chloe glances in the rearview mirror at Javier, who is frowning at them as they drive away, and then turns toward Lucifer.

“Where are we going?” 

He looks suddenly uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “Somewhere no one will think to look for you.”

Chloe frowns. “Where’s that?”

Lucifer doesn’t answer her. He glances both ways and then pulls out onto the street. Chloe waits, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Lucifer,” she prompts, dropping her voice into her detective tone. 

He shoots her an apologetic look. 

“Vegas.”