“Okay.”
“And I’m sure as shit not breaking in to a cop’s house with a gun.”
“Okay,” Tobias repeated, more softly. He was watching Sullivan with kind eyes. “I’m not advocating that. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I know how much this could cost you. Maybe you think I haven’t thought of it, but I do know. Thank you.”
Sullivan gazed back at him, all blue eyes and tousled curls and earnest, open gratitude. He wasn’t sure he believed that Tobias fully grasped just how bad this could go, but he got a warm pang from the words anyway. Helpless, he leaned forward and kissed him, deep and slow, once. “Yeah,” he said, pulling back. “You’re welcome.”
Tobias smiled sweetly and cleared his throat. “So where do we go in?”
Sullivan straightened and pulled out the smaller camera. The pictures he’d taken revealed that there were six windows facing the backyard; two set near the ground that led to basement rooms, two on the ground floor and two on the second. Spratt had installed bars on both basement windows, black cast iron, delicate enough to be almost decorative, but thick enough to ensure that no one was getting in or out that way. “I think one of the windows by the back door is our best choice. We don’t need to get complicated. Break the glass, pull out the screen, we’re in. Run downstairs, find him, untie him, and back out exactly the way we came. Shouldn’t take more than a minute or two, depending on what we find inside.”
“We don’t know what we’ll need,” Tobias said. “We’ll have to bring an assortment of things. Your sister probably has a ton of tools, right?”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“But—”
“The first rule of this is that we can’t take anything that could point to us, because we might end up being forced to leave it behind. They can’t find out who we are, or we’ll be fucked. A small break-in and setting Ghost up with Lisbeth’s retired cop friend is one thing, but if they know who we are, there’s a good chance we’re not living through that. We have to walk out of there without leaving anything behind that could be traced back to us.”
“So we’ll buy anything we use brand-new outside of town with cash.”
“Now you’re thinking.”
“And we’ll have to get rid of anything we do use so it can’t be found in our possession later.”
Sullivan nodded. “It’s not likely, but he might have exterior cameras. We can’t bring the car too close. If they see the tags, we’re screwed. And...shit, he’ll have access to traffic cameras. We’ll have to find out where the cameras are so we can avoid them. God, I hope we don’t miss anything.”
“We should make a list.” Tobias glanced at the clock. “It’s almost midnight. Can we get everything done before tomorrow? What is tomorrow, anyway?”
“The fifteenth.”
“I meant what day—wait, the fifteenth?”
“Yeah. Tuesday. What’s up?”
“Tomorrow’s Assumption.”
“Tomorrow’s a fact, actually,” Sullivan said, just to be a jerk.
“Ha-ha,” Tobias said. “The Assumption of Mary. It’s a day of obligation. I’m supposed to go to Mass tomorrow. Ugh, this is the worst timing.”
“I don’t know. We could probably use some divine intervention. You should go. We’ll never be able make the breakout work for tomorrow anyway.”
“Sullivan—”
“I know this is driving you crazy, but there’s way too much to do before tomorrow afternoon.” Sullivan caught the way Tobias’s eyes went pinched, and added, “It doesn’t do Ghost any good if we get him out only to get busted again three hours later because we fucked something up by rushing. He’s been there for weeks. Another day won’t kill him, and it might be the thing that makes him safe in the long run. Patience, Kamikaze. Spend tomorrow morning praying. We’ll do everything else tomorrow afternoon, and then the day after, we’ll go get your friend.”
“Right.” Tobias nodded and squared his shoulders, as determined as any general, as resigned as any foot soldier.
Sullivan turned away to search for paper and a pen, asking casually, “You don’t expect me to come with you, do you? To Mass, I mean. The only thing my family is devout about is not giving a shit, so I wouldn’t be more than a religious rubbernecker.”
“No.” Tobias smiled. “You can stay here.”
Sullivan lifted his eyebrows. “No arguments that I should? For the good of my immortal something-or-other?”
“No. I’m not going to guilt-trip you or proselytize. I love God, but I don’t need other people to confirm my faith for me. If you want my opinion on the subject, you’ll have to ask me.”
“Really?”
“Really. What you do with your immortal something-or-other is between you and Him.”
“Huh.” Sullivan tapped his pen against the table. “Let’s make a list of stuff to get.”
* * *
When the plans were made as best as they could be, they set everything aside and went to bed. Tomorrow would be filled with assorted tasks: shopping, timing how long it took to get from the nearest precinct to Spratt’s house, that sort of thing.
But now it was late, deep in the night, and there was nothing else they could do.
When Tobias slid close to him, Sullivan didn’t push him away. He probably should; he was too tired to have sex, so this was unabashed cuddling, but Tobias smelled like Sullivan’s soap and he was warm and he made a soft humming sound as Sullivan’s arms came around him, settling in like he never planned to move.
It both soothed Sullivan and pissed him off. On the one hand, having Tobias close like this was probably the world’s best high-blood-pressure medication; he could feel his heartbeat slowing. On the other hand, how had Tobias phrased it? I want this for now, but I don’t know that it’ll stick.
There was
