H50 fic: Not Yet Written (1/2)
Title: Not Yet Written
Author: thegrrrl2002
Fandom: H50
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 18K
Spoilers: All of S1
Warnings: None
Summary: Someone from Danny's past is out to get him.
Read at AO3
On LJ:
*****
Danny spots her immediately at the bar. She's leaning in and talking with the bartender, her short blond hair swinging as she nods her head. Danny hesitates for a moment, then smooths his hair back, shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his way through the room.
"Hi, Kathy," he says as he slides into the bar stool beside her. He feels like a bit of a goof, nervous and uncertain.
She greets him with a broad smile. "Hiya, Danny, how are you?"
She must have been out in the sun today, since the freckles sprinkled across her nose are standing out particularly well. It's adorable. She's adorable.
"Sorry I'm late, things got a little busy--" Danny lifts his hands apologetically.
"No, no, I understand." She dismisses Danny's concern with a wave of her hand. "I'm just glad you could make it."
"Right." Danny laughs. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
It's Danny's first genuine date in, oh, a million years and he wouldn't have missed it for anything short of a gunshot wound.
The bartender sets a beer down in front of Kathy and Danny orders the same for himself. "So how's Gracie doing?" Kathy asks.
They had met at the park where Danny takes Gracie to play. Another haole, someone who understands how ridiculous life is on the islands. She was friendly and funny and awfully cute and Danny could barely believe his good fortune when she suggested they meet for drinks.
"She is doing wonderful. Traveling with her mother at moment, and I miss her like you wouldn't believe," Danny says with a sigh.
"Oh, that stinks." Kathy pats his arm sympathetically.
"We talked on the phone earlier, though. She is still determined to get me to eat more vegetables. Now she's extolling the virtues of broccoli to me. Broccoli." Danny shakes his head. "I mean, the stuff's not bad, but it's not a steak, you know?"
Kathy laughs. "Broccoli can be pretty good, depending on how you prepare it."
"I don't know about that." Danny shrugs and sips his beer. "Its still broccoli."
They chat for a while, discussing idle nonsense such as the weather and the beaches and how palm trees aren't really trees at all, not with that ridiculous long trunk and total lack of real branches.
Danny takes in the surroundings as they talk--it's a habit and he can't help himself. It's a nice bar, one that Kathy had suggested, small and not too noisy. It's filled with a mixture of locals and tourists, all relaxed and having a good time and eventually Danny begins to relax, too. He's never been all that good at dating in the first place, and it's been a long time since he's been on one--even after the divorce, his heart was never in it. He had always held out hope that he and Rachel would get back together, which was maybe the worst idea he had ever had. But at least now he's truly over Rachel and ready to move on.
He's just not sure which direction to go in.
But Kathy is pretty and she looks like sunshine and blue skies in her sleeveless blouse and skirt. She's fidgeting a bit as she talks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, toying with a drink napkin, running her finger over the condensation on her beer glass. She seems nervous and Danny finds it charming.
"So," Danny says, "the thing that's really crazy--"
He's interrupted by a loud thud behind him, the sound of a chair being knocked back. "Hey, hey shut up, motherfucker," someone shouts.
Danny turns, his hand going for the gun that isn't there. Two guys, maybe in their twenties, are standing by the tables arguing loudly. They sound drunk and when one leans in toward the other, hands clenched into fists, Danny groans in dismay. Nothing says romance like a bar fight. He's about to head over to try and calm them down but the tall, square-shouldered waiter gets there first. After a quiet conversation (and threats of calling the cops, if Danny can read their expressions correctly), the waiter escorts them to the door.
Relieved, Danny turns back to Kathy. "Some people just don't know how to relax and have a good time, huh?"
"Honestly." Kathy shakes her head. She lifts her nearly empty beer glass and taps it against Danny's. "Drink up, round two is on me." She swallows down the last of her beer and Danny raises his eyebrows, then follows suit, draining his half glass in one gulp.
He's starting to really like her.
"So as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, my partner, he's kind of dangerous. Something like that?" Danny points to where the two men had been arguing. "He would have dragged them out and dangled them over a cliff. Or maybe thrown them into a shark cage."
Danny leans back and a man at the other end of the bar in brightly colored Hawaiian shirt catches his eye. The guy isn't doing anything, he's merely sitting with a full glass of beer in his hand, watching the crowd but there's something in the way he's holding himself that prickles the hair on the back of Danny's neck. He's too alert. Wary, almost.
"Oh, come on, he wouldn't actually do that, would he?" Kathy is asking.
"Hmm? My partner?" Danny swivels around to face Kathy. "Oh yeah. He would. But only if he gets to drive like a reckless maniac first. I swear, the way he drives, he's taken ten years off my life."
The fresh beers arrive in front of him and Danny takes a sip. He's feeling tipsy already, which is odd, but he did drink his first beer on an empty stomach and maybe the nerves had something to do with it and why is he constantly talking about Steve when he's on a date? The whole point of this dating business was to forget about Steve. For a little while, at least.
Kathy drinks her beer then grins at him. She's more relaxed now--apparently Danny has managed to put her at ease. "I don't know, sounds like it might be fun."
"Fun? Fun? No, it's not fun. This--this right here is fun. Having a drink, having a nice conversation with a pretty girl. That's fun." He's gratified when Kathy's cheeks flush pink. "But my partner, he is not fun. He's scary."
"But I'll bet Steve's a good guy to have at your back, right?"
Danny blinks. "Right," he says. "Right. That might be true."
Uneasy now, he takes a quick drink of his beer, his mind racing. He's sure he's never mentioned Steve by name during their afternoon chats at the park, although Grace--maybe Grace did? No, she was usually off playing when Kathy approached him.
Maybe he's just being paranoid. Hazard of the job and all. He's being ridiculous and clearly, he's been hanging around Steve too long. Not everything is a threat. Especially pretty girls with freckles and short blonde hair and sleeveless shirts.
Except when he turns his head, his vision swims. As if he'd been doing shots of tequila and that's not right. That's not right at all. Kathy is going on about surfing with a friend, something about jellyfish--the thought of which is enough to make Danny never want to go near the ocean again--and he's having trouble staying focused on her words.
Mr. Hawaiian shirt has moved to a seat at a nearby table and is staring directly at him.
What the hell?
Alarmed, Danny takes a deep breath and casually places a hand on Kathy's arm. "Listen, I need to hit the little boy's room. Be right back, okay?"
"Okay, sure." She won't look him in the eye, instead she's back to fiddling with the drink napkin.
She set him up. Danny's sure of it now.
He doesn't say anything. Instead he plays it cool, sliding off the bar stool, managing to somehow hold himself steady as the floor shifts dangerously under his feet. As he strolls to the back of the bar, he eases a hand into his pocket and palms his phone. A quick look over his shoulder to make sure he's sure he's blocked from Hawaiian shirt guy's view and he pulls the phone out. "Pick up, Steve, please pick up," he mutters as he scrolls to Steve's number and dials.
With the way the room is spinning, he's suspects it won't be long until he's completely incapacitated.
Phone pressed against his ear, he can barely hear ringing as the line connects. The bar is too noisy, he needs a quiet spot so he bypasses the restrooms, unsteady on his feet as he hurries to the door marked "Employees". He slips past the door into an empty hallway just as Steve picks up.
"Steve--Steve listen to me," Danny slurs.
"Danny? You okay?" Steve asks, surprise clear in his voice. "You sound drunk."
"I'm not--I think she drugged me." It's warm in the hallway, too warm. Danny leans against the wall and rubs his forehead, trying to focus his thoughts.
"What? Danny, what's going on? Where are you?"
"I'm at Smitty's Bar, on Queen Street. Something's not right here--there's a guy, and he's--there was an argument and I think she slipped something in my drink and I'm not feeling so great right now."
"Okay, just sit tight, I'm on my way. I'll--"
The room lurches and Danny drops his arm, trying to keep his balance. He should run, try to get away but he can't even figure out which way back into the bar, never mind find the parking lot and his car. All he can see is the scuffed gray walls of the hallway and then the door next to him swings open.
It's Hawaiian shirt man. Of course. And a friend, one of the men who was arguing. "Hi guys," Danny says with a bright false grin. He slips the phone back in his pocket, leaving it on, hoping the connection with Steve is still live.
"Come on, Detective Williams," Hawaiian shirt guy says. "We're going for a little ride. There's someone who would like to speak with you." He doesn't sound like he's from the islands, and his skin is too pale to have been here for any amount of time.
"No, no, no, I don't think so," Danny says, backing away from them. "My mother told me never to get into a car with strange men."
The man who was arguing, a tall guy who at least has the good taste to be wearing a plain t-shirt with a button down over it, lifts his shirt to display the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. "Did your mother ever tell you not to argue with guys who have guns?"
"That one I figured out on my own." Danny holds both his hands up. "Listen, there's no reason to get all excited."
"Grab him," Hawaiian shirt man says.
Before Danny can even form the thought of running, the taller guy has him by the arm. "Whoa," Danny mutters. The drug is slowing him down, making him feel like he is wading through molasses. "Who are you? You at least got a name?"
He stumbles, resisting the tugging on his arm and next thing he knows, he's pushed face-first against the wall, arm twisted painfully behind his back. "Don't even think of giving us any trouble," the man warns, mouth close to his ear.
"Okay. No trouble," Danny agrees. It's hard to talk now, his tongue feels too big for his mouth.
They pull him down the hallway, Danny staggering along willingly because, ow, that hurt, having his arm twisted like that. When they get outside the cool night air clears Danny's head, if only briefly. Steve is on his way, thank god, probably driving like a maniac and Danny needs to stall. If he gets into the car with these guys, he's as good as dead.
"Okay, okay. Just tell me who you are--or at least where the hell we're going," Danny asks.
"We're going to visit a friend," Hawaiian shirt guy says. "Who would like to have a word with you."
"Why doesn't he just call me on the phone?" Danny pleads. "I'm a chatty kind of guy. I like to talk. I'll talk all day."
They're on the side of the building, heading toward a path leading out toward the street. A noisy group leaves the bar and Danny is yanked back into the shadows to wait as they pass. "Hey hey, stop with the pulling and pushing, okay?"
"Yeah, right." The man twists Danny's arm and pain shoots up into Danny shoulder.
"Ow, would you quit that?" Danny exclaims. "You are a sick, sick man, and speaking of sick, I'm not feeling so good."
The man snickers. "Had a little too much to drink?" He tries to drag Danny back out onto the lit pathway, but Danny holds back.
"Seriously. I think I'm going to puke," Danny says, which is a lie. Although now that he thinks about it, his stomach is feeling a bit iffy. "Have I told you that I haven't puked since 1996? If I break that record now, I'm going to be pissed. I'm just saying."
"Come on, asshole," Hawaiian shirt man insists, pulling harder on Danny's arm.
Danny hangs his head and takes a deep breath. "Oh jeeze." He groans dramatically.
It has the desired effect. The men stop pulling him and Danny hears a muttered how much did she give him and not in the back of my fucking car. Danny slaps a hand over his mouth, covering up a grin. As far as kidnappers go, these guys are amateurs.
Another loud moan and Danny lets his knees buckle, slumping against the taller guy. With a sharp twist Danny yanks his arm from the man's grasp and goes for the gun, pulling it free just as he loses his balance and tumbles down onto the ground.
"Son of a bitch," the guy cries out.
There's a heavy blow to Danny's shoulder and the gun drops from his hand. Not good. It's somewhere in the deep grass and Danny's moving too slow, Hawaiian shirt guy is beating him to it, feeling around in grass as he curses up a storm. Danny struggles to get to his feet but the ground lurches beneath him and he's too sluggish to catch his balance. He falls to his knees and tries again, he needs to get away, to at least get out into the street, where all the lights are--the flashing lights and the sirens, loud and disorienting and oh hey--
Sirens. Squad cars.
Two black and whites pull up in front of the building just as Hawaiian shirt guy grabs him by the collar. Danny is pulled to his feet but then the side of the building comes at him in a rush. He sees stars--literally, which is actually kind of cool--but his forehead throbs with pain as he slides down onto the ground and that, that is not cool. Not at all.
Even so, it feels good. The grass is soft against his cheek and there's no one grabbing and shoving him anymore. It feels so good he could close his eyes and go right to sleep. As a matter of fact, he just might do that.
It's been a long day.
*****
"Danny, Danny." The voice is frantic, and it sounds as if it's far away, too far away for Danny to find but someone grabs his shoulder. Crap. Not again.
"Danny, hey buddy, talk to me."
Danny knows that voice. He opens his eyes and sees an arm reaching for him, an arm with a familiar tattoo peeking out from under a shirtsleeve. Danny's eyes follow the arm up to a shoulder, a neck, and oh, hi there. It's Steve.
Steve stares down at him, eyes wide with worry. "Danny, you okay?"
"Steve," Danny says with happy smile. Steve is his most favorite person in the entire world. "I'm, yeah, I--" He tries to sit up but falters along the way. His head has become very very heavy. Too heavy to hold up.
Steve helps him to his feet and the ground sways alarmingly. Danny falls into him, face pressed against Steve's chest. He takes a deep breath as he leans against Steve, holding onto Steve's shirt for support. Steve smells kind of sweaty and a bit like the ocean and grease from his ridiculous car and it's just so damn comforting and he's really really glad Steve is here with him.
"You smell good," Danny mumbles.
"Uh, okay."
When Danny leans back to look up at him, Steve's got that quizzical look on his face, the one that is really cute. Not that Danny would ever admit it. "Okay what?" Danny asks.
Steve shakes his head and looks even more confused. "Listen, Danny, do you know who tried to grab you? How many were there? And what about this woman, who is she? How long have you known her?"
Danny frowns. It's a lot of questions at once and now Steve's hands are on his waist. Steve has big hands. Big, very strong hands that are holding onto him with a firm grip and Danny kind of likes that. Especially since the ground has begun to shift again. Danny's had enough of falling down at this point.
"Danny? Why don't we go sit down, okay?" Steve is speaking softly now, coaxing.
"Yes. We should," Danny says. "You, with your hands, you're making me dizzy."
With an arm around his waist, Steve leads Danny over to a bench. Danny sighs happily, leaning against Steve as they walk and this is much nicer than getting pushed around by Hawaiian shirt guy and his tall friend.
"Who?" Steve asks.
"Hawaiian shirt guy," Danny explains as they sit on the bench underneath the bright lights. He beams a smile up at Steve. He's so damn happy Steve is here sitting with him, all warm and friendly with his arm wrapped around Danny's waist. "And his buddy. Tall guy, little younger. The one with the gun. Oh, oh, oh--the gun, I tried to grab it, and it went into the grass."
Steve calls out to someone and Danny realizes there are uniformed officers with flashlights searching the area. "Did they get away?" Danny asks. "Please, don't tell me they got away."
"They got away. Went behind the lot, jumped into a car just we got here." Steve says. "Do you know why they tried to grab you?"
Danny shakes his head, which is a bad idea as it makes him dizzy all over again. "Someone wants to talk to me."
"Who?" Steve asks.
"Wouldn't say."
"And this woman?"
"Someone I met in the park. Kathy Brownstone. At least, that's what she called herself." Danny hangs his head down. "Figures, my one real date in ages. She was cute, you know? She was sitting at the bar, but I'm sure she's long gone now."
Steve nods to a uniformed officer, who heads into the bar. "And you're sure she was in on it?"
"She knew your name. I was talking about you--because of course, what else do I do on a date? Talk about my crazy partner." Danny pats Steve's thigh. It's a nice thigh, long and lean. Danny likes Steve's thigh although maybe he should stop petting it or Steve just might notice how much he likes it.
"Really?" Steve says, and he's got that face again, the cute puzzled one. "You do?"
"Uh huh." Danny reluctantly removes his hand from Steve's leg. "I said 'my partner', and she referred to you as 'Steve', even though I never mentioned your name. That, my friend," Danny pokes Steve's chest, "gave her away. Am I a detective, or what?"
"Yes, Danny, you are definitely a detective."
"Plus I was starting to feel woozy. And then this guy in a horrible Hawaiian shirt--really, it was blue and orange and had these hula dancers and tiki men--who wears a shirt like that?" Danny frowns up at Steve.
Steve just shrugs, so Danny continues on. "He looked suspicious, pinged my radar in a big big way. He and his friend confronted me in the back hallway. And I threatened to puke all over them. Out here, not in the hall."
Danny leans back to try and look Steve in the eye, but the motion sets him off again. The ground pulls at him, determined to drag him off the bench and back down into the grass.
"Stay with me, Danny. Come on." Steve grabs him under the arms and hauls him back up on the bench. "Let me get this straight. When did you first meet this Kathy person?"
Danny has a hand on Steve's arm, right on his biceps, right over one of his damned tattoos and he's tracing his thumb over the lower swirl before the realizes what he's doing. "Who?"
"Never mind." Steve shakes his head, and he looks like he's trying not to smile. Which is so not fair. "Just tell me what these guys looked like."
"You think this is funny?" Danny asks, heartily offended.
"No," Steve says reasonably. "Not at all, Danny."
Danny wants to be mad at him, but Steve's eyes are crinkling up at the corners, and his eyelashes are catching the light from above, and honestly, he's so fucking beautiful it makes Danny crazy sometimes.
"Okay," Danny says with a sigh. He goes on to describe his would-be abductors, giving as much detail as he can remember, and even though his thoughts are disjointed--he could do without Steve's leg pressing against his like that--he manages to get it all out, finishing just as the ambulance pulls up.
"Steve, do I have to?" he asks, and to his own ears he sounds an awful like like Grace but he's been in the hospital once already this year, that was enough. He wants to stay here with Steve, just hanging out on the bench and sitting close together.
"Yes, Danny, you do." Steve's voice is gentle. "And look, there's a nice comfy stretcher for you to rest on."
The EMTs are wheeling a stretcher toward him and it does look kind of nice, with the bright white sheets and little pillow.
"I'll get some uniforms to ride with you, then catch up with you at hospital when we're through here," Steve adds as he helps Danny down onto the stretcher. "I'm glad you're all right, buddy." Steve pats Danny's shoulder, and Danny's gratified to see that he really does look relieved.
Turns out the stretcher is actually quite comfortable, and Danny decides it's time for another nice little nap.
*****
Danny is released from the hospital late the following morning. There's a guard outside his room, and Danny is pretty sure Steve is going overboard with all this. Danny can take care of himself, but then again, he apparently can't even go out on a date without getting into trouble so maybe Steve's right.
Danny grimaces at the thought.
Once he's dressed he waits for Steve in his hospital room, sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching his coffee cup and swinging his feet restlessly, eager to leave. He feels like an idiot. He should have been able to avoid getting drugged, should have known Kathy was up to no good. He's a cop, damn it, yet he fell for her, hook, line and sinker. He's pissed and disconcerted and a bit scared and utterly grateful that Grace is safely away in England with Rachel and Stan.
"Danny, hey," Steve says as he bursts into the room, a welcome vision in cargo pants and a dark blue tee-shirt. "How are you feeling? I stopped by last night, but you were sound asleep."
"I'm good. Just have a bit of a headache. And my shoulder is killing me." Danny rolls his shoulders, the sore muscles protesting the movement. There are bruises all over his right shoulder. Apparently he had put up some kind of fight. "The guard, was he actually necessary?"
"Yes." Steve says flatly. He raises his eyebrows, as if daring Danny to argue with him.
"Fine. Come on," Danny says, sliding off the bed. "Lets get to HQ."
"Are you sure you're up to it?" Steve remains in front of the door, blocking Danny's path. His expression grows soft with concern. "You were pretty out of it last night."
"Yes, I am sure of it, Steven." Danny makes shooing motions with his hands, trying to get Steve to move out of his way. "The doctor cleared me to go back to work, but hey, if you want to check with her first, please feel free."
Steve holds his hands up, conceding the point and they pass through the noisy hospital hallways without further conversation. Danny has a thousand questions, but not here.
"So what the hell is going on?" Danny asks as soon as they're in the car.
"I don't know." Steve jaw is firmly set, which is not a good sign. He starts the car and pulls out into the street. "We weren't able to get anything on the girl. The bartender remembers her, said she left shortly after you headed to the back. Did a background check and the name is fake, as you suspected. The guy with the shirt and his friend, no one seems to have gotten a good look at them. They got into a black SUV and took off."
"Damn it. So we've got nothing?"
Steve grins, but it's grim. "We got partials on the plate, and we got the gun. Chin is running it right now, hopefully he'll have something for us when we get there."
"Gun? What gun?"
"The gun you grabbed from the one of the guys. You don't remember?"
Danny closes his eyes and thinks back to the evening, to being pulled out of the building. A gun, one of them had a 45MM tucked into his waistband and Danny has a vague recollection of reaching for it. He must have knocked it out of the guy's hand or something. "Huh. Yeah, I do now. I think that's when the son of a bitch kicked me. Good. At least we have something."
"Do you have any idea who these guys might be? Have you been having problems with anyone?"
Danny laughs, nearly dropping his coffee cup. "You tell me, Steve. Who might I have pissed off in oh, the past year and a half?"
Steve blinks at him. "Okay. You have a point."
"Yeah. In other words, the list of suspects is as long as my arm. Maybe even as long as your arm."
"But the guy went after you, not us both. And you said you're pretty sure the guy was a haole, right?"
Danny shrugs. "That was the vibe I got. The guy reeked of mainland."
"Vibe? You got a vibe?" Steve says, and this time his grin is genuine. "Look who's going all native."
"Shut up. Still doesn't mean I like it here." Steve is still grinning a warm grin so Danny scowls his fiercest scowl back at him, to no avail. As usual. "Okay. Fine. Believe what you want. Anyway, I'm just saying the way he talked, I'd peg him as being from the mid-Atlantic region. Could be Jersey."
"Okay. Good. That's useful. We'll figure this out, Danny," Steve assures him. "But in the meanwhile, I'm assigning you a protective detail."
"What? You're kidding me." Danny shakes his head. "I do not need a protective detail. I am a protective detail, Steve. I can protect myself."
"You did such a good job of it last night, huh?"
"That was because I wasn't aware that I needed to watch out for someone trying to kidnap me. Now that I know--"
"No, that's not how it works--"
"Don't you tell me how it works," Danny says, stabbing a finger in the air toward Steve. "I have been a cop for over ten years, you do not get to tell me how it works."
"And if the situation were reversed, and your partner was drugged and nearly abducted?"
Danny huffs and tries to take another drink from his coffee cup, only to find that it's empty. Irritated, he stares out the window at the palm trees passing by. Steve is right, which is even more annoying than when he's wrong.
"Now, I won't take you off the case, Danny," Steve begins.
"Oh thank you."
"Danny--"
"Who is this protective detail going to be?"
"You're sitting in the car with him right now," Steve says.
Danny slaps a hand to his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?"
"I was trying to." Steve's voice is gentler now. "Listen to me. I am not letting you out of my sight until we arrest whoever is behind this. You'll be staying at my house with me tonight. I'll get an unmarked car assigned to watch the place overnight."
"Okay," It sounds reasonable, and Danny's too tired to argue much anyway. "I can do that."
"You can do that?"
Danny nods.
"Good," Steve says. "Glad to hear it."
They've reached HQ and Steve pulls the car into the parking lot. He shifts the gears into park, then hesitates before shutting the car off. "So, Danny," Steve says. "Exactly how much do you remember from last night?"
"Not much," Danny admits. "Even from before I was drugged. I remember calling you when I first started to feel the effects of the drug. Those guys yanked me around for a while, the squad cars showed up, and then you were there. For which I am extremely grateful, by the way. Thank you."
He has a vague recollection of touching Steve, of his hands on Steve's leg, his arm, and something about Steve's chest. His face grows warm at the memory and he hopes he didn't say anything too stupid.
But Steve merely nods. "Glad I was able to help, buddy."
Reassured, Danny gets out of the car and follows Steve into the building.
*****
"Hey, Danny, how are you doing?" Kono greets him as soon as he walks through the door.
Chin is right behind her. "Yeah, brah, what's going on?"
"You tell me," Danny says with a shrug. "I was just trying to have a evening out with a nice young lady. Only she turned out to be not so nice."
Kono shakes her head. "Got to learn to pick your dates better."
"Yeah," Steve says. "She's got a point, Danny. Let me know if you want any help with that."
"You? You?" Danny says, laughing. "You think I'm going to let you pick my dates?"
Steve grins at him. "Something like that."
"Right. Because that's what my dates need. More munitions." Danny turns to Chin. "Find out anything on that gun?"
"Just got the report back--nothing too useful." With a swipe of his hand, Chin transfers images from the smart table to the large screen on the wall. "Aside from your fingerprints, we did get a clean one from the perp. Unfortunately it doesn't match anything in the system."
An image of a thumb print appears on the screen.
"Ballistics show that the gun was used in an unsolved robbery five years ago," Chin continues. "Jewelry shop down on Pensacola Street. Owner was hit in the shoulder. He survived and they recovered the bullet."
"First thing the perps probably did was ditch the weapon," Kono muses.
Danny nods. "Exactly."
"I'd say a visit with Kamekona is in order," Steve says. "He may have a line on who deals in 45MMs. His stand opens in a couple hours. You up to it, Danny?"
"Up to it?" Danny raises his eyebrows. "Of course I'm up to it. I feel fine."
Which is sort of the truth. He's tired and his head hurts but no way is he going to sit on his thumbs while everyone else works the case. And speaking of sitting, it seems like a good idea at the moment. He finds a chair and settles into it as Kono goes over the details of the jewelry store robbery--two suspects, a handful of items recovered from pawn shops--typical small time crooks trying to make a quick buck.
A hand on his shoulder and Danny looks up to see Chin proffering a cup of coffee. "Looked like you could use some."
"Oh god yes." With a grateful nod, Danny takes the cup. "Thank you."
"Rohypnol, right?" Chin asks. "That stuff will mess you up."
"I felt messed up," Danny agrees. He sips his coffee. Maybe he'll make it through the day after all. "What about the SUV? You said you had a partial on the plates?"
Kono nods. "It was a rental. I was able to narrow it down to two offices. One checked out, it was rented to a family staying at the Hilton. The other is a little more interesting. It was rented to a Robert Patron. Who, according to his social security number, died in 2003. Want to guess where he lived?"
Danny curls his fingers tight around his coffee mug. "New Jersey?"
"You got it." Kono smiles proudly.
"Nice work," Steve says. "Looks we're narrowing the field down. "
"So maybe we're looking for an ex-con, recently paroled," Chin suggests. "Someone holding a grudge?"
"Wouldn't that be pretty stupid, though?" Kono asks with a frown. "You do your time, get out of jail and the first thing you do is go after a cop? That will put you back in jail for a long, long time."
Danny shakes his head. "See, Kono, what you have not yet realized is that ninety-nine percent of criminals are truly, painfully stupid."
"Is true, cuz," Chin adds. "And they think they're never going to get caught."
"If it was someone from Danny's time here on the islands," Steve says, "they'd be targeting all of us. I'm not sure any of them would have reason to single out Danny. Plus, Danny's pretty sure at least one of the guys is from the mainland. Chin, can you pull up a list of recent paroles from Danny's cases in New Jersey? We'll start there."
"Wait, wait," Danny says. "It's not like we're just around the corner. The timing will be important--they will have weekly meetings with their parole officer, so if they've say, met with their PO yesterday, they're out of the running."
Chin nods. "They'll need a day or two to get here, and maybe another day or two to set things up--get a gun, find a way to get to Danny."
"So," Kono says, "If they're flagged as missing their PO meeting, they got right to the top of the list."
"Exactly," Danny tells her.
"Danny," Steve says. "Do you think any of this might have to do with Matt?"
His voice is gentle, yet his words still sting. Danny shakes his head. "I have no idea. I can make some calls, see if there's been any activity on his case."
"All right." Steve nods. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Danny."
Danny doesn't feel quite so confident.
*****
Danny squints against the bright sunlight as he gets out of the car, pulling his sunglass from his pocket. His head is starting to throb again. The beach is crowded, full of tourists and kids and there are several radios playing in the background, the loud, thumping music blending together to make his head hurt even worse.
"I swear, I have no idea what kids are listening to these days," he complains.
Steve shakes his head. "Yeah. I don't know, either."
"Let's not even start with you and your choice of music." Danny stops short as several kids dash past him--little girls in brightly colored swimsuits, running and laughing and playing. Danny's chest grows tight as he watches them.
"Hey." Steve rests a hand on Danny's shoulder. "You miss Grace, don't you."
Danny nods. "Yeah. I do. But I have to tell you, I'm glad she's out of the country right now. I do not need anyone trying to get to me through her."
"It would be the last mistake they'd ever make," Steve assures Danny, his face grim. "Two more weeks, right?"
"Two more weeks." It feels like an eternity, but at least that gives them time to wrap up the case. And they will wrap it up, Danny tells himself.
He turns to head for the Wailoa Shave Ice stand, but Steve holds him back, hand lightly gripping Danny's upper arm. "Wait."
"What?" Danny is distracted for a moment by Steve's hand, by the way his long fingers encircle his arm. He needs to move on from this thing with Steve, he truly does. Only he's not sure how, especially with Steve being all touchy-feely like this. "You think we're being watched?"
He checks out the crowd again, but sees no one resembling his would-be abductors, no one lingering suspiciously in the shadows. No one even seems to even notice them, they're too intent on enjoying the sunny day.
"I don't think so." Steve turns his head, taking in the street, cars zipping past, pedestrians crowding the sidewalk. "Just want to make sure."
"Come on," Danny says, giving Steve a little shove. "You want to check the bathroom too, next time I have to take a leak?"
He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, because Steve is nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, that might not be a bad idea."
Danny rolls his eyes.
As they head toward the stand, Kamekona waves an arm in greeting. "Hey, what's up? I hear someone tried to snatch you away. That's not on, my brother. That's not on."
He pulls Danny in for a rough hug and Danny bites back a grunt of pain as his bad shoulder connects with Kamekona's broad chest. "I'm good, I'm good, man," he manages, giving Kamekona a manly yet affectionate slap on the back.
"You make an arrest yet?" he asks Steve.
"Not yet," Steve says. "But you might be able to help."
"Anything to help Danny out, for sure."
Steve pulls out his phone and shows Kamekona several photos of the weapon. "Look familiar to you?"
Kamekona takes the phone from Steve and furrows his brow as he pages through the images again. Then shakes his head. "No, sorry."
"You sure?" Steve asks. "It was used in a jewelry story robbery five years ago, and then turned up again last night on one of the guys who tried to nab Danny. So if you know anything, anything at all--"
"Come on." Kamekona hands the phone back to Steve. "You know I'd help you if I could."
"We know that," Danny assures him. "Listen, can you ask around? We think it would have been purchased recently, maybe in the past week or two."
"I'll see what I can do," Kamekona says with a nod.
"Mahalo," Steve says, pocketing his phone. "We appreciate it. Catch you later, man."
As they turn to leave, Kamekona calls out after them. "Hey, want to try the flavor of the day? Mango-lime, with a hint of chili pepper. Part of my new South of the Border flavor series."
Danny's eyebrows rise in dismay as he turns back to the stand. "Uh, no. No thank you."
"Come on, it's very tasty, I promise you."
Steve backs away from the stand. "We'll take your word for it."
"No, you tell me what you think. I do you a favor, you do me a favor, right?" Kamekona waves a hand to the kid working behind the counter. "One special, for my friends here."
Danny wonders just how and when they became professional shave ice taste testers, but Kamekona had a point. Although honestly, he'd rather slip a fifty into Kamekona's palm. That's how they used to do it.
"Here you go, my friend." Kamekona hands Danny a cup mounded high with bright orange ice with two plastic spoons sticking out of it, then crosses his arms over his chest and waits expectantly. "You be honest with me now."
Steve looks at the cup of ice, then at Danny. "You first," he insists.
*****
"I am never going to get that taste out of my mouth," Danny complains as they push through the double doors leading to the office. "That was a whole world of wrong, right there."
"I don't know," Steve says. "It was different, but not so bad."
"Not bad? Not bad? How was that not bad?"
Chin glances up from the table as they approach. "What was bad?"
"Mango-lime-chili shave ice," Danny tells him.
"I don't know, sounds kind of interesting."
Danny throws his hands in the air. "I give up," he says to the ceiling.
Must be something about all the sunshine. Makes people on the island crazy.
"Don't give up yet, we've got a list of recent parolees for you to go through," Chin says. "I've sent you the the files."
"Thanks." Danny nods to Chin. He stops and pours himself another cup of coffee, then heads for his office.
There are nine files waiting for him. Danny sighs and gets down to work, clicking on the oldest one first. He takes his time reading through them, reacquainting himself with the details of the cases. A couple of them are from long ago, from his rookie days. When he and Rachel were first married. From when life was all about going to work and putting the bad guys in jail, then going home to his wife and baby girl. It was all he had ever wanted out life, really. He'd thought it would last forever.
He had been a bit too cocky back in those days.
He pages through each case, reading and taking notes. Just as he's finishing up, a quiet knock on the door startles him. "Hey, how's it going?" Steve asks.
Danny shrugs. "It's going."
He tries to sound nonchalant but Steve comes into his office, slides a hip up on the edge of Danny's desk and leans in close. "What's wrong?"
You, Danny wants to answer. Draping yourself over my desk like that.
"Eh." he waves a hand. "Memories. Old cases, rookie mistakes. It's hard to revisit the past."
Steve nods understandingly. "Don't let yourself get bogged down in it. The past is the past."
"Oh, thank you. And here I thought the past was the present."
"Okay, Okay, I know it sounds trite," Steve concedes. He ducks his head and laughs in a way that Danny finds annoyingly endearing. "But it's true that you can't dwell on the past. You learn from it and move on."
"I hear you," Danny says. "Maybe someday, you know?"
While it's true that he has learned a lot since he was a rookie cop, he'll be damned if he can figure out what he's learned from his past with Rachel. Other than you can't go back again, because you'll screw up things up just as badly the second time around.
"Hey, you must have learned something, since you're a damn good cop, Danny," Steve tells him.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, flattery will get you everywhere," Danny says with a dismissive wave. Still, he appreciates the vote of confidence. "I'm good. Really. It's just weird seeing all these cases again. Plus this thing with Kathy Brownstone. I mean, what the hell happened to my instincts?"
"So you trusted the wrong person." Steve shrugs. "Hey, I let myself get taken in by my old buddy Nick. It happens. Someone once told me it means you're human."
Danny laughs, surprised that Steve remembered what he had said. "I don't know who that was, but I'm pretty sure he was full of shit."
"Most of the time, he is." Steve assures him. "Now come on. You need to eat something. It's after eight o'clock."
Startled, Danny checks the clock. "Whoa. I seriously lost track of time. And now that you mention it, I'm starving." His stomach rumbles ominously.
"I already picked up sandwiches," Steve says. "How does turkey on rye with coleslaw and Russian dressing sound?"
"It sounds like heaven." Danny's heart does a happy little flipflop. "You are my most favorite person in the entire world, do you know that? Aside from Grace, of course."
Steve smiles back at him. "What are you waiting for then? You can present the prime suspects over dinner."
Energized now, Danny scrambles out of his chair and follows Steve into the main conference area, where his sandwich awaits. A short time later, they're settled around the table, sandwiches and chips spread out, bottles of water in hand. Danny sends the pertinent files to their accounts, then loads three mugshots up onto the main screen.
"Okay," Danny says, taking a drink of his water. "I narrowed it down to three likely suspects. I testified in all three trials, so they know my name and face. And all three have reason to blame me for their convictions.
"Contestant number one is Michael Dunn. Paroled a month ago, missed his last meeting with his PO. Whereabouts currently unknown. He was convicted of running an auto theft ring, and also of aggravated assault when he tried to run down the owner of a 2008 BMW 750 that he was in the process of stealing."
"Nice," Chin comments.
"Yeah," Danny agrees. "As if murder would be an improvement over car theft. Not too bright. And has what one might call 'anger issues'--he rammed into my squad car when we tried to arrest him. Then claimed it was an accident. And that he'd 'get me for this'."
"Not too bright, and holding a grudge," Steve says. "Good candidate."
Danny takes a huge bite of his sandwich and Russian dressing spills out the other side of it, directly onto the smart table. He winces, then reaches for the stack of napkins Kono slides over to him. "Thank you," he whispers.
She nods at him, clearly fighting back a grin.
"Contestant number two," he announces. "Alan Churchhill. Released two months ago, missed his last PO meeting. Venture capitalist, convicted of manslaughter in the stabbing of his business partner, who he was convinced had double-crossed him. This is one cold, cold man with a violent past. Has a thing for revenge. Kind of like it's his hobby."
"And contestant number three. Sammy 'The Clipper' Forino. Ran a small-time drug operation." Danny pauses to take another drink of his water.
"The clipper?" Kono asks, nose wrinkling as if she smells something foul. "That doesn't sound good."
"Nah. It's not what you think. His father ran a barber shop. Sammy parlayed it into a drug distribution center. I actually went in undercover as a customer." Danny smooths a hand over his hair, shuddering at the memory. "It was very traumatic."
Steve snickers and Danny resists the urge to throw his dressing-soaked napkins at him.
"Anyway, I got the impression he just wasn't right in the head. Definitely the kind of guy who would hold a grudge."
"Okay," Steve says. "We see what we can find on these guys."
"Hear anything about your brother, Matt?" Kono asks.
"Checked with some guys I know, and they tell me the case has gone cold. No leads, no activity," Danny tells her. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
"We can't rule him out completely, but we'll focus on these guys first," Steve says. "Okay?" His eyes are on Danny, and he looks worried all over again.
Danny shrugs. "Okay."
He finishes his sandwich, trying not to think about the last time he saw Matt.
*****
It's after 10 pm by the time they get to Steve's house. The unmarked car is already out front and Steve takes a moment to go over details of the case with the officers. Danny hangs back, waving a greeting to them. The woman looks vaguely familiar, he's pretty sure they've met before but his brain is sluggish at this point, the long day is catching up to him and all he wants to do is curl up and go to sleep. Maybe right here, on the front lawn.
"Come on, Danny." With a hand to the small of Danny's back, Steve herds him into the house. "You're dead on your feet."
"Says you." Danny yawns, then stumbles over the threshold of the door. "Okay, maybe."
"Do you need anything? Some water?" Steve locks the door behind them and activates the alarm system.
"Nah. I'm good." Danny rubs his eyes. They feel gritty and itchy, as if dust has been blowing into them all day. "Oh, wait--maybe a shirt to sleep in?"
"I'm on it. You go on up." Steve rubs Danny's back all too briefly, then lets his hand slip away.
Danny heads up the stairs and and into the guest room. He considers showering--he's still got that hospital smell all over him--but when he switches the light on in the guest room, the bed is right there in front of him, beckoning with its soft white sheets and fluffy pillows and good god he's ready to crash. The shower can wait.
He's unbuttoning his shirt when Steve taps lightly on the door. "Yeah, come in," Danny says, slipping the shirt off his shoulders.
"In case you get cold during the night," Steve says as he enters the room. He's carrying a neatly folded white quilt with a blue t-shirt resting on top. "A quilt if you need it, and here's a clean shirt."
A frown creases his forehead as he stares at Danny. It takes Danny a moment to realize Steve is looking at the bruises on his shoulder. "It's nothing," Danny assures him, rubbing a hand over the discolored skin. "Doesn't hurt. Much."
Steve places the quilt and shirt on the bed. "Let me see," he insists.
Danny pulls his hand away as Steve moves closer, standing directly in front of him. "Honest, it's fine, Steve."
Reaching out, Steve brushes his fingertips over the bruised skin and Danny breathes in sharply as Steve traces the outline of the bruise. "Looks bad. Did they give you ice for it at the hospital?"
"It's possible." Danny finds himself fascinated by the way Steve bites his lower lip as he examines the bruise. "I, uh, don't remember much."
Steve's gaze sweeps across Danny's chest, lingering over his naked skin and Danny's heart beats faster. It feels dangerous, being half-dressed with Steve standing so close, watching him with that quiet intensity. Dangerous and intriguing and Steve's fingers are still on Danny's shoulder and Danny wonders what would happen if he stepped closer, if he pressed himself up against Steve--
"I'm good," Danny says abruptly. He steps back and Steve's hand drops from his shoulder. "Doesn't hurt. Hell, I don't even remember how it happened."
Steve nods distractedly.
Danny grabs the t-shirt from the bed. "Thanks for this. I'll need to stop and pick up some clean clothes tomorrow. Actually, I dropped a load off at the laundromat last week," he says, well aware that he's babbling now. "They're probably ready, we should maybe stop there too, and--huh. Cute, Steven. Real cute."
The t-shirt has a rainbow striped surfboard emblazoned on the front with rainbow striped palm trees on either side and a logo emblazoned across the top that reads "Born to Surf".
Steve grins proudly. "It was on the top of the pile."
"Right." Danny slips the shirt on over his head, wincing as he struggles to get his arm through the sleeve.
Oh, right. His shoulder.
"Come here," Steve says. "Let me get that." He helps Danny get the t-shirt on, holding Danny's arm steady as he slides it through the sleeve.
"I can dress myself, thank you," Danny grumbles, even though he appreciates the help. And now Steve is standing way too close, yet again, as he adjusts the shirt over Danny's shoulders.
This is what happens when he goes on a date to try and stop thinking about Steve. He ends up with Steve's hands all over him, yet not in the way he wants. It's torture. Sheer torture.
"Looks good on you. So, when do I get to see you surf, huh?" Steve asks.
"When pigs fly. Or, in keeping with the island's wildlife, when wild boars fly." Danny peers at himself in the mirror. The shirt is ridiculous. As is surfing. All it's good for is falling into the water and--
"Oh," he says, suddenly excited. "Surfing."
Steve cocks his head to one side. "Yeah, and?"
"Kathy said something about surfing when we were in the bar. She and a girlfriend were surfing--on Thursday? Or Friday?" Danny frowns, confused. "But there were too many jellyfish and they closed the beach. When was that?"
"It was in the news," Steve says. "It was at Ala Moana Beach Park. We should look through the news footage--maybe she's on it, and if we have a face, we can get an ID on her."
Danny nods. "It's definitely worth a try."
"I'll call the studios first thing in the morning," Steve says. "Meanwhile, try and get some sleep, okay?"
As Steve turns to leave, Danny calls out after him. "Steve, hey. Thanks. For this," he plucks the hem of the worn, soft t-shirt, "and for, uh--everything. I appreciate it."
And he truly does. He's exhausted and frustrated and his head still hurts and he's so fucking grateful that Steve knows what his favorite sandwich is and that he has a great big comfortable guest bed and, yeah. Everything. Even the touching. Maybe even especially the touching.
Another warm smile. "You're welcome, Danny."
Steve leaves the room, closing the door behind him and Danny desperately wants to call him back in, pull him down onto the bed and wallow in all that warmth and affection. Which of course, wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen, not with Steve so instead Danny simply flops down on the bed, pulls quilt up and mashes his face into the pillow.
Within minutes he's deeply, soundly asleep.
Go on to Part 2
Author: thegrrrl2002
Fandom: H50
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 18K
Spoilers: All of S1
Warnings: None
Summary: Someone from Danny's past is out to get him.
Read at AO3
On LJ:
*****
Danny spots her immediately at the bar. She's leaning in and talking with the bartender, her short blond hair swinging as she nods her head. Danny hesitates for a moment, then smooths his hair back, shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his way through the room.
"Hi, Kathy," he says as he slides into the bar stool beside her. He feels like a bit of a goof, nervous and uncertain.
She greets him with a broad smile. "Hiya, Danny, how are you?"
She must have been out in the sun today, since the freckles sprinkled across her nose are standing out particularly well. It's adorable. She's adorable.
"Sorry I'm late, things got a little busy--" Danny lifts his hands apologetically.
"No, no, I understand." She dismisses Danny's concern with a wave of her hand. "I'm just glad you could make it."
"Right." Danny laughs. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
It's Danny's first genuine date in, oh, a million years and he wouldn't have missed it for anything short of a gunshot wound.
The bartender sets a beer down in front of Kathy and Danny orders the same for himself. "So how's Gracie doing?" Kathy asks.
They had met at the park where Danny takes Gracie to play. Another haole, someone who understands how ridiculous life is on the islands. She was friendly and funny and awfully cute and Danny could barely believe his good fortune when she suggested they meet for drinks.
"She is doing wonderful. Traveling with her mother at moment, and I miss her like you wouldn't believe," Danny says with a sigh.
"Oh, that stinks." Kathy pats his arm sympathetically.
"We talked on the phone earlier, though. She is still determined to get me to eat more vegetables. Now she's extolling the virtues of broccoli to me. Broccoli." Danny shakes his head. "I mean, the stuff's not bad, but it's not a steak, you know?"
Kathy laughs. "Broccoli can be pretty good, depending on how you prepare it."
"I don't know about that." Danny shrugs and sips his beer. "Its still broccoli."
They chat for a while, discussing idle nonsense such as the weather and the beaches and how palm trees aren't really trees at all, not with that ridiculous long trunk and total lack of real branches.
Danny takes in the surroundings as they talk--it's a habit and he can't help himself. It's a nice bar, one that Kathy had suggested, small and not too noisy. It's filled with a mixture of locals and tourists, all relaxed and having a good time and eventually Danny begins to relax, too. He's never been all that good at dating in the first place, and it's been a long time since he's been on one--even after the divorce, his heart was never in it. He had always held out hope that he and Rachel would get back together, which was maybe the worst idea he had ever had. But at least now he's truly over Rachel and ready to move on.
He's just not sure which direction to go in.
But Kathy is pretty and she looks like sunshine and blue skies in her sleeveless blouse and skirt. She's fidgeting a bit as she talks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, toying with a drink napkin, running her finger over the condensation on her beer glass. She seems nervous and Danny finds it charming.
"So," Danny says, "the thing that's really crazy--"
He's interrupted by a loud thud behind him, the sound of a chair being knocked back. "Hey, hey shut up, motherfucker," someone shouts.
Danny turns, his hand going for the gun that isn't there. Two guys, maybe in their twenties, are standing by the tables arguing loudly. They sound drunk and when one leans in toward the other, hands clenched into fists, Danny groans in dismay. Nothing says romance like a bar fight. He's about to head over to try and calm them down but the tall, square-shouldered waiter gets there first. After a quiet conversation (and threats of calling the cops, if Danny can read their expressions correctly), the waiter escorts them to the door.
Relieved, Danny turns back to Kathy. "Some people just don't know how to relax and have a good time, huh?"
"Honestly." Kathy shakes her head. She lifts her nearly empty beer glass and taps it against Danny's. "Drink up, round two is on me." She swallows down the last of her beer and Danny raises his eyebrows, then follows suit, draining his half glass in one gulp.
He's starting to really like her.
"So as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, my partner, he's kind of dangerous. Something like that?" Danny points to where the two men had been arguing. "He would have dragged them out and dangled them over a cliff. Or maybe thrown them into a shark cage."
Danny leans back and a man at the other end of the bar in brightly colored Hawaiian shirt catches his eye. The guy isn't doing anything, he's merely sitting with a full glass of beer in his hand, watching the crowd but there's something in the way he's holding himself that prickles the hair on the back of Danny's neck. He's too alert. Wary, almost.
"Oh, come on, he wouldn't actually do that, would he?" Kathy is asking.
"Hmm? My partner?" Danny swivels around to face Kathy. "Oh yeah. He would. But only if he gets to drive like a reckless maniac first. I swear, the way he drives, he's taken ten years off my life."
The fresh beers arrive in front of him and Danny takes a sip. He's feeling tipsy already, which is odd, but he did drink his first beer on an empty stomach and maybe the nerves had something to do with it and why is he constantly talking about Steve when he's on a date? The whole point of this dating business was to forget about Steve. For a little while, at least.
Kathy drinks her beer then grins at him. She's more relaxed now--apparently Danny has managed to put her at ease. "I don't know, sounds like it might be fun."
"Fun? Fun? No, it's not fun. This--this right here is fun. Having a drink, having a nice conversation with a pretty girl. That's fun." He's gratified when Kathy's cheeks flush pink. "But my partner, he is not fun. He's scary."
"But I'll bet Steve's a good guy to have at your back, right?"
Danny blinks. "Right," he says. "Right. That might be true."
Uneasy now, he takes a quick drink of his beer, his mind racing. He's sure he's never mentioned Steve by name during their afternoon chats at the park, although Grace--maybe Grace did? No, she was usually off playing when Kathy approached him.
Maybe he's just being paranoid. Hazard of the job and all. He's being ridiculous and clearly, he's been hanging around Steve too long. Not everything is a threat. Especially pretty girls with freckles and short blonde hair and sleeveless shirts.
Except when he turns his head, his vision swims. As if he'd been doing shots of tequila and that's not right. That's not right at all. Kathy is going on about surfing with a friend, something about jellyfish--the thought of which is enough to make Danny never want to go near the ocean again--and he's having trouble staying focused on her words.
Mr. Hawaiian shirt has moved to a seat at a nearby table and is staring directly at him.
What the hell?
Alarmed, Danny takes a deep breath and casually places a hand on Kathy's arm. "Listen, I need to hit the little boy's room. Be right back, okay?"
"Okay, sure." She won't look him in the eye, instead she's back to fiddling with the drink napkin.
She set him up. Danny's sure of it now.
He doesn't say anything. Instead he plays it cool, sliding off the bar stool, managing to somehow hold himself steady as the floor shifts dangerously under his feet. As he strolls to the back of the bar, he eases a hand into his pocket and palms his phone. A quick look over his shoulder to make sure he's sure he's blocked from Hawaiian shirt guy's view and he pulls the phone out. "Pick up, Steve, please pick up," he mutters as he scrolls to Steve's number and dials.
With the way the room is spinning, he's suspects it won't be long until he's completely incapacitated.
Phone pressed against his ear, he can barely hear ringing as the line connects. The bar is too noisy, he needs a quiet spot so he bypasses the restrooms, unsteady on his feet as he hurries to the door marked "Employees". He slips past the door into an empty hallway just as Steve picks up.
"Steve--Steve listen to me," Danny slurs.
"Danny? You okay?" Steve asks, surprise clear in his voice. "You sound drunk."
"I'm not--I think she drugged me." It's warm in the hallway, too warm. Danny leans against the wall and rubs his forehead, trying to focus his thoughts.
"What? Danny, what's going on? Where are you?"
"I'm at Smitty's Bar, on Queen Street. Something's not right here--there's a guy, and he's--there was an argument and I think she slipped something in my drink and I'm not feeling so great right now."
"Okay, just sit tight, I'm on my way. I'll--"
The room lurches and Danny drops his arm, trying to keep his balance. He should run, try to get away but he can't even figure out which way back into the bar, never mind find the parking lot and his car. All he can see is the scuffed gray walls of the hallway and then the door next to him swings open.
It's Hawaiian shirt man. Of course. And a friend, one of the men who was arguing. "Hi guys," Danny says with a bright false grin. He slips the phone back in his pocket, leaving it on, hoping the connection with Steve is still live.
"Come on, Detective Williams," Hawaiian shirt guy says. "We're going for a little ride. There's someone who would like to speak with you." He doesn't sound like he's from the islands, and his skin is too pale to have been here for any amount of time.
"No, no, no, I don't think so," Danny says, backing away from them. "My mother told me never to get into a car with strange men."
The man who was arguing, a tall guy who at least has the good taste to be wearing a plain t-shirt with a button down over it, lifts his shirt to display the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. "Did your mother ever tell you not to argue with guys who have guns?"
"That one I figured out on my own." Danny holds both his hands up. "Listen, there's no reason to get all excited."
"Grab him," Hawaiian shirt man says.
Before Danny can even form the thought of running, the taller guy has him by the arm. "Whoa," Danny mutters. The drug is slowing him down, making him feel like he is wading through molasses. "Who are you? You at least got a name?"
He stumbles, resisting the tugging on his arm and next thing he knows, he's pushed face-first against the wall, arm twisted painfully behind his back. "Don't even think of giving us any trouble," the man warns, mouth close to his ear.
"Okay. No trouble," Danny agrees. It's hard to talk now, his tongue feels too big for his mouth.
They pull him down the hallway, Danny staggering along willingly because, ow, that hurt, having his arm twisted like that. When they get outside the cool night air clears Danny's head, if only briefly. Steve is on his way, thank god, probably driving like a maniac and Danny needs to stall. If he gets into the car with these guys, he's as good as dead.
"Okay, okay. Just tell me who you are--or at least where the hell we're going," Danny asks.
"We're going to visit a friend," Hawaiian shirt guy says. "Who would like to have a word with you."
"Why doesn't he just call me on the phone?" Danny pleads. "I'm a chatty kind of guy. I like to talk. I'll talk all day."
They're on the side of the building, heading toward a path leading out toward the street. A noisy group leaves the bar and Danny is yanked back into the shadows to wait as they pass. "Hey hey, stop with the pulling and pushing, okay?"
"Yeah, right." The man twists Danny's arm and pain shoots up into Danny shoulder.
"Ow, would you quit that?" Danny exclaims. "You are a sick, sick man, and speaking of sick, I'm not feeling so good."
The man snickers. "Had a little too much to drink?" He tries to drag Danny back out onto the lit pathway, but Danny holds back.
"Seriously. I think I'm going to puke," Danny says, which is a lie. Although now that he thinks about it, his stomach is feeling a bit iffy. "Have I told you that I haven't puked since 1996? If I break that record now, I'm going to be pissed. I'm just saying."
"Come on, asshole," Hawaiian shirt man insists, pulling harder on Danny's arm.
Danny hangs his head and takes a deep breath. "Oh jeeze." He groans dramatically.
It has the desired effect. The men stop pulling him and Danny hears a muttered how much did she give him and not in the back of my fucking car. Danny slaps a hand over his mouth, covering up a grin. As far as kidnappers go, these guys are amateurs.
Another loud moan and Danny lets his knees buckle, slumping against the taller guy. With a sharp twist Danny yanks his arm from the man's grasp and goes for the gun, pulling it free just as he loses his balance and tumbles down onto the ground.
"Son of a bitch," the guy cries out.
There's a heavy blow to Danny's shoulder and the gun drops from his hand. Not good. It's somewhere in the deep grass and Danny's moving too slow, Hawaiian shirt guy is beating him to it, feeling around in grass as he curses up a storm. Danny struggles to get to his feet but the ground lurches beneath him and he's too sluggish to catch his balance. He falls to his knees and tries again, he needs to get away, to at least get out into the street, where all the lights are--the flashing lights and the sirens, loud and disorienting and oh hey--
Sirens. Squad cars.
Two black and whites pull up in front of the building just as Hawaiian shirt guy grabs him by the collar. Danny is pulled to his feet but then the side of the building comes at him in a rush. He sees stars--literally, which is actually kind of cool--but his forehead throbs with pain as he slides down onto the ground and that, that is not cool. Not at all.
Even so, it feels good. The grass is soft against his cheek and there's no one grabbing and shoving him anymore. It feels so good he could close his eyes and go right to sleep. As a matter of fact, he just might do that.
It's been a long day.
*****
"Danny, Danny." The voice is frantic, and it sounds as if it's far away, too far away for Danny to find but someone grabs his shoulder. Crap. Not again.
"Danny, hey buddy, talk to me."
Danny knows that voice. He opens his eyes and sees an arm reaching for him, an arm with a familiar tattoo peeking out from under a shirtsleeve. Danny's eyes follow the arm up to a shoulder, a neck, and oh, hi there. It's Steve.
Steve stares down at him, eyes wide with worry. "Danny, you okay?"
"Steve," Danny says with happy smile. Steve is his most favorite person in the entire world. "I'm, yeah, I--" He tries to sit up but falters along the way. His head has become very very heavy. Too heavy to hold up.
Steve helps him to his feet and the ground sways alarmingly. Danny falls into him, face pressed against Steve's chest. He takes a deep breath as he leans against Steve, holding onto Steve's shirt for support. Steve smells kind of sweaty and a bit like the ocean and grease from his ridiculous car and it's just so damn comforting and he's really really glad Steve is here with him.
"You smell good," Danny mumbles.
"Uh, okay."
When Danny leans back to look up at him, Steve's got that quizzical look on his face, the one that is really cute. Not that Danny would ever admit it. "Okay what?" Danny asks.
Steve shakes his head and looks even more confused. "Listen, Danny, do you know who tried to grab you? How many were there? And what about this woman, who is she? How long have you known her?"
Danny frowns. It's a lot of questions at once and now Steve's hands are on his waist. Steve has big hands. Big, very strong hands that are holding onto him with a firm grip and Danny kind of likes that. Especially since the ground has begun to shift again. Danny's had enough of falling down at this point.
"Danny? Why don't we go sit down, okay?" Steve is speaking softly now, coaxing.
"Yes. We should," Danny says. "You, with your hands, you're making me dizzy."
With an arm around his waist, Steve leads Danny over to a bench. Danny sighs happily, leaning against Steve as they walk and this is much nicer than getting pushed around by Hawaiian shirt guy and his tall friend.
"Who?" Steve asks.
"Hawaiian shirt guy," Danny explains as they sit on the bench underneath the bright lights. He beams a smile up at Steve. He's so damn happy Steve is here sitting with him, all warm and friendly with his arm wrapped around Danny's waist. "And his buddy. Tall guy, little younger. The one with the gun. Oh, oh, oh--the gun, I tried to grab it, and it went into the grass."
Steve calls out to someone and Danny realizes there are uniformed officers with flashlights searching the area. "Did they get away?" Danny asks. "Please, don't tell me they got away."
"They got away. Went behind the lot, jumped into a car just we got here." Steve says. "Do you know why they tried to grab you?"
Danny shakes his head, which is a bad idea as it makes him dizzy all over again. "Someone wants to talk to me."
"Who?" Steve asks.
"Wouldn't say."
"And this woman?"
"Someone I met in the park. Kathy Brownstone. At least, that's what she called herself." Danny hangs his head down. "Figures, my one real date in ages. She was cute, you know? She was sitting at the bar, but I'm sure she's long gone now."
Steve nods to a uniformed officer, who heads into the bar. "And you're sure she was in on it?"
"She knew your name. I was talking about you--because of course, what else do I do on a date? Talk about my crazy partner." Danny pats Steve's thigh. It's a nice thigh, long and lean. Danny likes Steve's thigh although maybe he should stop petting it or Steve just might notice how much he likes it.
"Really?" Steve says, and he's got that face again, the cute puzzled one. "You do?"
"Uh huh." Danny reluctantly removes his hand from Steve's leg. "I said 'my partner', and she referred to you as 'Steve', even though I never mentioned your name. That, my friend," Danny pokes Steve's chest, "gave her away. Am I a detective, or what?"
"Yes, Danny, you are definitely a detective."
"Plus I was starting to feel woozy. And then this guy in a horrible Hawaiian shirt--really, it was blue and orange and had these hula dancers and tiki men--who wears a shirt like that?" Danny frowns up at Steve.
Steve just shrugs, so Danny continues on. "He looked suspicious, pinged my radar in a big big way. He and his friend confronted me in the back hallway. And I threatened to puke all over them. Out here, not in the hall."
Danny leans back to try and look Steve in the eye, but the motion sets him off again. The ground pulls at him, determined to drag him off the bench and back down into the grass.
"Stay with me, Danny. Come on." Steve grabs him under the arms and hauls him back up on the bench. "Let me get this straight. When did you first meet this Kathy person?"
Danny has a hand on Steve's arm, right on his biceps, right over one of his damned tattoos and he's tracing his thumb over the lower swirl before the realizes what he's doing. "Who?"
"Never mind." Steve shakes his head, and he looks like he's trying not to smile. Which is so not fair. "Just tell me what these guys looked like."
"You think this is funny?" Danny asks, heartily offended.
"No," Steve says reasonably. "Not at all, Danny."
Danny wants to be mad at him, but Steve's eyes are crinkling up at the corners, and his eyelashes are catching the light from above, and honestly, he's so fucking beautiful it makes Danny crazy sometimes.
"Okay," Danny says with a sigh. He goes on to describe his would-be abductors, giving as much detail as he can remember, and even though his thoughts are disjointed--he could do without Steve's leg pressing against his like that--he manages to get it all out, finishing just as the ambulance pulls up.
"Steve, do I have to?" he asks, and to his own ears he sounds an awful like like Grace but he's been in the hospital once already this year, that was enough. He wants to stay here with Steve, just hanging out on the bench and sitting close together.
"Yes, Danny, you do." Steve's voice is gentle. "And look, there's a nice comfy stretcher for you to rest on."
The EMTs are wheeling a stretcher toward him and it does look kind of nice, with the bright white sheets and little pillow.
"I'll get some uniforms to ride with you, then catch up with you at hospital when we're through here," Steve adds as he helps Danny down onto the stretcher. "I'm glad you're all right, buddy." Steve pats Danny's shoulder, and Danny's gratified to see that he really does look relieved.
Turns out the stretcher is actually quite comfortable, and Danny decides it's time for another nice little nap.
*****
Danny is released from the hospital late the following morning. There's a guard outside his room, and Danny is pretty sure Steve is going overboard with all this. Danny can take care of himself, but then again, he apparently can't even go out on a date without getting into trouble so maybe Steve's right.
Danny grimaces at the thought.
Once he's dressed he waits for Steve in his hospital room, sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching his coffee cup and swinging his feet restlessly, eager to leave. He feels like an idiot. He should have been able to avoid getting drugged, should have known Kathy was up to no good. He's a cop, damn it, yet he fell for her, hook, line and sinker. He's pissed and disconcerted and a bit scared and utterly grateful that Grace is safely away in England with Rachel and Stan.
"Danny, hey," Steve says as he bursts into the room, a welcome vision in cargo pants and a dark blue tee-shirt. "How are you feeling? I stopped by last night, but you were sound asleep."
"I'm good. Just have a bit of a headache. And my shoulder is killing me." Danny rolls his shoulders, the sore muscles protesting the movement. There are bruises all over his right shoulder. Apparently he had put up some kind of fight. "The guard, was he actually necessary?"
"Yes." Steve says flatly. He raises his eyebrows, as if daring Danny to argue with him.
"Fine. Come on," Danny says, sliding off the bed. "Lets get to HQ."
"Are you sure you're up to it?" Steve remains in front of the door, blocking Danny's path. His expression grows soft with concern. "You were pretty out of it last night."
"Yes, I am sure of it, Steven." Danny makes shooing motions with his hands, trying to get Steve to move out of his way. "The doctor cleared me to go back to work, but hey, if you want to check with her first, please feel free."
Steve holds his hands up, conceding the point and they pass through the noisy hospital hallways without further conversation. Danny has a thousand questions, but not here.
"So what the hell is going on?" Danny asks as soon as they're in the car.
"I don't know." Steve jaw is firmly set, which is not a good sign. He starts the car and pulls out into the street. "We weren't able to get anything on the girl. The bartender remembers her, said she left shortly after you headed to the back. Did a background check and the name is fake, as you suspected. The guy with the shirt and his friend, no one seems to have gotten a good look at them. They got into a black SUV and took off."
"Damn it. So we've got nothing?"
Steve grins, but it's grim. "We got partials on the plate, and we got the gun. Chin is running it right now, hopefully he'll have something for us when we get there."
"Gun? What gun?"
"The gun you grabbed from the one of the guys. You don't remember?"
Danny closes his eyes and thinks back to the evening, to being pulled out of the building. A gun, one of them had a 45MM tucked into his waistband and Danny has a vague recollection of reaching for it. He must have knocked it out of the guy's hand or something. "Huh. Yeah, I do now. I think that's when the son of a bitch kicked me. Good. At least we have something."
"Do you have any idea who these guys might be? Have you been having problems with anyone?"
Danny laughs, nearly dropping his coffee cup. "You tell me, Steve. Who might I have pissed off in oh, the past year and a half?"
Steve blinks at him. "Okay. You have a point."
"Yeah. In other words, the list of suspects is as long as my arm. Maybe even as long as your arm."
"But the guy went after you, not us both. And you said you're pretty sure the guy was a haole, right?"
Danny shrugs. "That was the vibe I got. The guy reeked of mainland."
"Vibe? You got a vibe?" Steve says, and this time his grin is genuine. "Look who's going all native."
"Shut up. Still doesn't mean I like it here." Steve is still grinning a warm grin so Danny scowls his fiercest scowl back at him, to no avail. As usual. "Okay. Fine. Believe what you want. Anyway, I'm just saying the way he talked, I'd peg him as being from the mid-Atlantic region. Could be Jersey."
"Okay. Good. That's useful. We'll figure this out, Danny," Steve assures him. "But in the meanwhile, I'm assigning you a protective detail."
"What? You're kidding me." Danny shakes his head. "I do not need a protective detail. I am a protective detail, Steve. I can protect myself."
"You did such a good job of it last night, huh?"
"That was because I wasn't aware that I needed to watch out for someone trying to kidnap me. Now that I know--"
"No, that's not how it works--"
"Don't you tell me how it works," Danny says, stabbing a finger in the air toward Steve. "I have been a cop for over ten years, you do not get to tell me how it works."
"And if the situation were reversed, and your partner was drugged and nearly abducted?"
Danny huffs and tries to take another drink from his coffee cup, only to find that it's empty. Irritated, he stares out the window at the palm trees passing by. Steve is right, which is even more annoying than when he's wrong.
"Now, I won't take you off the case, Danny," Steve begins.
"Oh thank you."
"Danny--"
"Who is this protective detail going to be?"
"You're sitting in the car with him right now," Steve says.
Danny slaps a hand to his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?"
"I was trying to." Steve's voice is gentler now. "Listen to me. I am not letting you out of my sight until we arrest whoever is behind this. You'll be staying at my house with me tonight. I'll get an unmarked car assigned to watch the place overnight."
"Okay," It sounds reasonable, and Danny's too tired to argue much anyway. "I can do that."
"You can do that?"
Danny nods.
"Good," Steve says. "Glad to hear it."
They've reached HQ and Steve pulls the car into the parking lot. He shifts the gears into park, then hesitates before shutting the car off. "So, Danny," Steve says. "Exactly how much do you remember from last night?"
"Not much," Danny admits. "Even from before I was drugged. I remember calling you when I first started to feel the effects of the drug. Those guys yanked me around for a while, the squad cars showed up, and then you were there. For which I am extremely grateful, by the way. Thank you."
He has a vague recollection of touching Steve, of his hands on Steve's leg, his arm, and something about Steve's chest. His face grows warm at the memory and he hopes he didn't say anything too stupid.
But Steve merely nods. "Glad I was able to help, buddy."
Reassured, Danny gets out of the car and follows Steve into the building.
*****
"Hey, Danny, how are you doing?" Kono greets him as soon as he walks through the door.
Chin is right behind her. "Yeah, brah, what's going on?"
"You tell me," Danny says with a shrug. "I was just trying to have a evening out with a nice young lady. Only she turned out to be not so nice."
Kono shakes her head. "Got to learn to pick your dates better."
"Yeah," Steve says. "She's got a point, Danny. Let me know if you want any help with that."
"You? You?" Danny says, laughing. "You think I'm going to let you pick my dates?"
Steve grins at him. "Something like that."
"Right. Because that's what my dates need. More munitions." Danny turns to Chin. "Find out anything on that gun?"
"Just got the report back--nothing too useful." With a swipe of his hand, Chin transfers images from the smart table to the large screen on the wall. "Aside from your fingerprints, we did get a clean one from the perp. Unfortunately it doesn't match anything in the system."
An image of a thumb print appears on the screen.
"Ballistics show that the gun was used in an unsolved robbery five years ago," Chin continues. "Jewelry shop down on Pensacola Street. Owner was hit in the shoulder. He survived and they recovered the bullet."
"First thing the perps probably did was ditch the weapon," Kono muses.
Danny nods. "Exactly."
"I'd say a visit with Kamekona is in order," Steve says. "He may have a line on who deals in 45MMs. His stand opens in a couple hours. You up to it, Danny?"
"Up to it?" Danny raises his eyebrows. "Of course I'm up to it. I feel fine."
Which is sort of the truth. He's tired and his head hurts but no way is he going to sit on his thumbs while everyone else works the case. And speaking of sitting, it seems like a good idea at the moment. He finds a chair and settles into it as Kono goes over the details of the jewelry store robbery--two suspects, a handful of items recovered from pawn shops--typical small time crooks trying to make a quick buck.
A hand on his shoulder and Danny looks up to see Chin proffering a cup of coffee. "Looked like you could use some."
"Oh god yes." With a grateful nod, Danny takes the cup. "Thank you."
"Rohypnol, right?" Chin asks. "That stuff will mess you up."
"I felt messed up," Danny agrees. He sips his coffee. Maybe he'll make it through the day after all. "What about the SUV? You said you had a partial on the plates?"
Kono nods. "It was a rental. I was able to narrow it down to two offices. One checked out, it was rented to a family staying at the Hilton. The other is a little more interesting. It was rented to a Robert Patron. Who, according to his social security number, died in 2003. Want to guess where he lived?"
Danny curls his fingers tight around his coffee mug. "New Jersey?"
"You got it." Kono smiles proudly.
"Nice work," Steve says. "Looks we're narrowing the field down. "
"So maybe we're looking for an ex-con, recently paroled," Chin suggests. "Someone holding a grudge?"
"Wouldn't that be pretty stupid, though?" Kono asks with a frown. "You do your time, get out of jail and the first thing you do is go after a cop? That will put you back in jail for a long, long time."
Danny shakes his head. "See, Kono, what you have not yet realized is that ninety-nine percent of criminals are truly, painfully stupid."
"Is true, cuz," Chin adds. "And they think they're never going to get caught."
"If it was someone from Danny's time here on the islands," Steve says, "they'd be targeting all of us. I'm not sure any of them would have reason to single out Danny. Plus, Danny's pretty sure at least one of the guys is from the mainland. Chin, can you pull up a list of recent paroles from Danny's cases in New Jersey? We'll start there."
"Wait, wait," Danny says. "It's not like we're just around the corner. The timing will be important--they will have weekly meetings with their parole officer, so if they've say, met with their PO yesterday, they're out of the running."
Chin nods. "They'll need a day or two to get here, and maybe another day or two to set things up--get a gun, find a way to get to Danny."
"So," Kono says, "If they're flagged as missing their PO meeting, they got right to the top of the list."
"Exactly," Danny tells her.
"Danny," Steve says. "Do you think any of this might have to do with Matt?"
His voice is gentle, yet his words still sting. Danny shakes his head. "I have no idea. I can make some calls, see if there's been any activity on his case."
"All right." Steve nods. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Danny."
Danny doesn't feel quite so confident.
*****
Danny squints against the bright sunlight as he gets out of the car, pulling his sunglass from his pocket. His head is starting to throb again. The beach is crowded, full of tourists and kids and there are several radios playing in the background, the loud, thumping music blending together to make his head hurt even worse.
"I swear, I have no idea what kids are listening to these days," he complains.
Steve shakes his head. "Yeah. I don't know, either."
"Let's not even start with you and your choice of music." Danny stops short as several kids dash past him--little girls in brightly colored swimsuits, running and laughing and playing. Danny's chest grows tight as he watches them.
"Hey." Steve rests a hand on Danny's shoulder. "You miss Grace, don't you."
Danny nods. "Yeah. I do. But I have to tell you, I'm glad she's out of the country right now. I do not need anyone trying to get to me through her."
"It would be the last mistake they'd ever make," Steve assures Danny, his face grim. "Two more weeks, right?"
"Two more weeks." It feels like an eternity, but at least that gives them time to wrap up the case. And they will wrap it up, Danny tells himself.
He turns to head for the Wailoa Shave Ice stand, but Steve holds him back, hand lightly gripping Danny's upper arm. "Wait."
"What?" Danny is distracted for a moment by Steve's hand, by the way his long fingers encircle his arm. He needs to move on from this thing with Steve, he truly does. Only he's not sure how, especially with Steve being all touchy-feely like this. "You think we're being watched?"
He checks out the crowd again, but sees no one resembling his would-be abductors, no one lingering suspiciously in the shadows. No one even seems to even notice them, they're too intent on enjoying the sunny day.
"I don't think so." Steve turns his head, taking in the street, cars zipping past, pedestrians crowding the sidewalk. "Just want to make sure."
"Come on," Danny says, giving Steve a little shove. "You want to check the bathroom too, next time I have to take a leak?"
He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, because Steve is nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, that might not be a bad idea."
Danny rolls his eyes.
As they head toward the stand, Kamekona waves an arm in greeting. "Hey, what's up? I hear someone tried to snatch you away. That's not on, my brother. That's not on."
He pulls Danny in for a rough hug and Danny bites back a grunt of pain as his bad shoulder connects with Kamekona's broad chest. "I'm good, I'm good, man," he manages, giving Kamekona a manly yet affectionate slap on the back.
"You make an arrest yet?" he asks Steve.
"Not yet," Steve says. "But you might be able to help."
"Anything to help Danny out, for sure."
Steve pulls out his phone and shows Kamekona several photos of the weapon. "Look familiar to you?"
Kamekona takes the phone from Steve and furrows his brow as he pages through the images again. Then shakes his head. "No, sorry."
"You sure?" Steve asks. "It was used in a jewelry story robbery five years ago, and then turned up again last night on one of the guys who tried to nab Danny. So if you know anything, anything at all--"
"Come on." Kamekona hands the phone back to Steve. "You know I'd help you if I could."
"We know that," Danny assures him. "Listen, can you ask around? We think it would have been purchased recently, maybe in the past week or two."
"I'll see what I can do," Kamekona says with a nod.
"Mahalo," Steve says, pocketing his phone. "We appreciate it. Catch you later, man."
As they turn to leave, Kamekona calls out after them. "Hey, want to try the flavor of the day? Mango-lime, with a hint of chili pepper. Part of my new South of the Border flavor series."
Danny's eyebrows rise in dismay as he turns back to the stand. "Uh, no. No thank you."
"Come on, it's very tasty, I promise you."
Steve backs away from the stand. "We'll take your word for it."
"No, you tell me what you think. I do you a favor, you do me a favor, right?" Kamekona waves a hand to the kid working behind the counter. "One special, for my friends here."
Danny wonders just how and when they became professional shave ice taste testers, but Kamekona had a point. Although honestly, he'd rather slip a fifty into Kamekona's palm. That's how they used to do it.
"Here you go, my friend." Kamekona hands Danny a cup mounded high with bright orange ice with two plastic spoons sticking out of it, then crosses his arms over his chest and waits expectantly. "You be honest with me now."
Steve looks at the cup of ice, then at Danny. "You first," he insists.
*****
"I am never going to get that taste out of my mouth," Danny complains as they push through the double doors leading to the office. "That was a whole world of wrong, right there."
"I don't know," Steve says. "It was different, but not so bad."
"Not bad? Not bad? How was that not bad?"
Chin glances up from the table as they approach. "What was bad?"
"Mango-lime-chili shave ice," Danny tells him.
"I don't know, sounds kind of interesting."
Danny throws his hands in the air. "I give up," he says to the ceiling.
Must be something about all the sunshine. Makes people on the island crazy.
"Don't give up yet, we've got a list of recent parolees for you to go through," Chin says. "I've sent you the the files."
"Thanks." Danny nods to Chin. He stops and pours himself another cup of coffee, then heads for his office.
There are nine files waiting for him. Danny sighs and gets down to work, clicking on the oldest one first. He takes his time reading through them, reacquainting himself with the details of the cases. A couple of them are from long ago, from his rookie days. When he and Rachel were first married. From when life was all about going to work and putting the bad guys in jail, then going home to his wife and baby girl. It was all he had ever wanted out life, really. He'd thought it would last forever.
He had been a bit too cocky back in those days.
He pages through each case, reading and taking notes. Just as he's finishing up, a quiet knock on the door startles him. "Hey, how's it going?" Steve asks.
Danny shrugs. "It's going."
He tries to sound nonchalant but Steve comes into his office, slides a hip up on the edge of Danny's desk and leans in close. "What's wrong?"
You, Danny wants to answer. Draping yourself over my desk like that.
"Eh." he waves a hand. "Memories. Old cases, rookie mistakes. It's hard to revisit the past."
Steve nods understandingly. "Don't let yourself get bogged down in it. The past is the past."
"Oh, thank you. And here I thought the past was the present."
"Okay, Okay, I know it sounds trite," Steve concedes. He ducks his head and laughs in a way that Danny finds annoyingly endearing. "But it's true that you can't dwell on the past. You learn from it and move on."
"I hear you," Danny says. "Maybe someday, you know?"
While it's true that he has learned a lot since he was a rookie cop, he'll be damned if he can figure out what he's learned from his past with Rachel. Other than you can't go back again, because you'll screw up things up just as badly the second time around.
"Hey, you must have learned something, since you're a damn good cop, Danny," Steve tells him.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, flattery will get you everywhere," Danny says with a dismissive wave. Still, he appreciates the vote of confidence. "I'm good. Really. It's just weird seeing all these cases again. Plus this thing with Kathy Brownstone. I mean, what the hell happened to my instincts?"
"So you trusted the wrong person." Steve shrugs. "Hey, I let myself get taken in by my old buddy Nick. It happens. Someone once told me it means you're human."
Danny laughs, surprised that Steve remembered what he had said. "I don't know who that was, but I'm pretty sure he was full of shit."
"Most of the time, he is." Steve assures him. "Now come on. You need to eat something. It's after eight o'clock."
Startled, Danny checks the clock. "Whoa. I seriously lost track of time. And now that you mention it, I'm starving." His stomach rumbles ominously.
"I already picked up sandwiches," Steve says. "How does turkey on rye with coleslaw and Russian dressing sound?"
"It sounds like heaven." Danny's heart does a happy little flipflop. "You are my most favorite person in the entire world, do you know that? Aside from Grace, of course."
Steve smiles back at him. "What are you waiting for then? You can present the prime suspects over dinner."
Energized now, Danny scrambles out of his chair and follows Steve into the main conference area, where his sandwich awaits. A short time later, they're settled around the table, sandwiches and chips spread out, bottles of water in hand. Danny sends the pertinent files to their accounts, then loads three mugshots up onto the main screen.
"Okay," Danny says, taking a drink of his water. "I narrowed it down to three likely suspects. I testified in all three trials, so they know my name and face. And all three have reason to blame me for their convictions.
"Contestant number one is Michael Dunn. Paroled a month ago, missed his last meeting with his PO. Whereabouts currently unknown. He was convicted of running an auto theft ring, and also of aggravated assault when he tried to run down the owner of a 2008 BMW 750 that he was in the process of stealing."
"Nice," Chin comments.
"Yeah," Danny agrees. "As if murder would be an improvement over car theft. Not too bright. And has what one might call 'anger issues'--he rammed into my squad car when we tried to arrest him. Then claimed it was an accident. And that he'd 'get me for this'."
"Not too bright, and holding a grudge," Steve says. "Good candidate."
Danny takes a huge bite of his sandwich and Russian dressing spills out the other side of it, directly onto the smart table. He winces, then reaches for the stack of napkins Kono slides over to him. "Thank you," he whispers.
She nods at him, clearly fighting back a grin.
"Contestant number two," he announces. "Alan Churchhill. Released two months ago, missed his last PO meeting. Venture capitalist, convicted of manslaughter in the stabbing of his business partner, who he was convinced had double-crossed him. This is one cold, cold man with a violent past. Has a thing for revenge. Kind of like it's his hobby."
"And contestant number three. Sammy 'The Clipper' Forino. Ran a small-time drug operation." Danny pauses to take another drink of his water.
"The clipper?" Kono asks, nose wrinkling as if she smells something foul. "That doesn't sound good."
"Nah. It's not what you think. His father ran a barber shop. Sammy parlayed it into a drug distribution center. I actually went in undercover as a customer." Danny smooths a hand over his hair, shuddering at the memory. "It was very traumatic."
Steve snickers and Danny resists the urge to throw his dressing-soaked napkins at him.
"Anyway, I got the impression he just wasn't right in the head. Definitely the kind of guy who would hold a grudge."
"Okay," Steve says. "We see what we can find on these guys."
"Hear anything about your brother, Matt?" Kono asks.
"Checked with some guys I know, and they tell me the case has gone cold. No leads, no activity," Danny tells her. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
"We can't rule him out completely, but we'll focus on these guys first," Steve says. "Okay?" His eyes are on Danny, and he looks worried all over again.
Danny shrugs. "Okay."
He finishes his sandwich, trying not to think about the last time he saw Matt.
*****
It's after 10 pm by the time they get to Steve's house. The unmarked car is already out front and Steve takes a moment to go over details of the case with the officers. Danny hangs back, waving a greeting to them. The woman looks vaguely familiar, he's pretty sure they've met before but his brain is sluggish at this point, the long day is catching up to him and all he wants to do is curl up and go to sleep. Maybe right here, on the front lawn.
"Come on, Danny." With a hand to the small of Danny's back, Steve herds him into the house. "You're dead on your feet."
"Says you." Danny yawns, then stumbles over the threshold of the door. "Okay, maybe."
"Do you need anything? Some water?" Steve locks the door behind them and activates the alarm system.
"Nah. I'm good." Danny rubs his eyes. They feel gritty and itchy, as if dust has been blowing into them all day. "Oh, wait--maybe a shirt to sleep in?"
"I'm on it. You go on up." Steve rubs Danny's back all too briefly, then lets his hand slip away.
Danny heads up the stairs and and into the guest room. He considers showering--he's still got that hospital smell all over him--but when he switches the light on in the guest room, the bed is right there in front of him, beckoning with its soft white sheets and fluffy pillows and good god he's ready to crash. The shower can wait.
He's unbuttoning his shirt when Steve taps lightly on the door. "Yeah, come in," Danny says, slipping the shirt off his shoulders.
"In case you get cold during the night," Steve says as he enters the room. He's carrying a neatly folded white quilt with a blue t-shirt resting on top. "A quilt if you need it, and here's a clean shirt."
A frown creases his forehead as he stares at Danny. It takes Danny a moment to realize Steve is looking at the bruises on his shoulder. "It's nothing," Danny assures him, rubbing a hand over the discolored skin. "Doesn't hurt. Much."
Steve places the quilt and shirt on the bed. "Let me see," he insists.
Danny pulls his hand away as Steve moves closer, standing directly in front of him. "Honest, it's fine, Steve."
Reaching out, Steve brushes his fingertips over the bruised skin and Danny breathes in sharply as Steve traces the outline of the bruise. "Looks bad. Did they give you ice for it at the hospital?"
"It's possible." Danny finds himself fascinated by the way Steve bites his lower lip as he examines the bruise. "I, uh, don't remember much."
Steve's gaze sweeps across Danny's chest, lingering over his naked skin and Danny's heart beats faster. It feels dangerous, being half-dressed with Steve standing so close, watching him with that quiet intensity. Dangerous and intriguing and Steve's fingers are still on Danny's shoulder and Danny wonders what would happen if he stepped closer, if he pressed himself up against Steve--
"I'm good," Danny says abruptly. He steps back and Steve's hand drops from his shoulder. "Doesn't hurt. Hell, I don't even remember how it happened."
Steve nods distractedly.
Danny grabs the t-shirt from the bed. "Thanks for this. I'll need to stop and pick up some clean clothes tomorrow. Actually, I dropped a load off at the laundromat last week," he says, well aware that he's babbling now. "They're probably ready, we should maybe stop there too, and--huh. Cute, Steven. Real cute."
The t-shirt has a rainbow striped surfboard emblazoned on the front with rainbow striped palm trees on either side and a logo emblazoned across the top that reads "Born to Surf".
Steve grins proudly. "It was on the top of the pile."
"Right." Danny slips the shirt on over his head, wincing as he struggles to get his arm through the sleeve.
Oh, right. His shoulder.
"Come here," Steve says. "Let me get that." He helps Danny get the t-shirt on, holding Danny's arm steady as he slides it through the sleeve.
"I can dress myself, thank you," Danny grumbles, even though he appreciates the help. And now Steve is standing way too close, yet again, as he adjusts the shirt over Danny's shoulders.
This is what happens when he goes on a date to try and stop thinking about Steve. He ends up with Steve's hands all over him, yet not in the way he wants. It's torture. Sheer torture.
"Looks good on you. So, when do I get to see you surf, huh?" Steve asks.
"When pigs fly. Or, in keeping with the island's wildlife, when wild boars fly." Danny peers at himself in the mirror. The shirt is ridiculous. As is surfing. All it's good for is falling into the water and--
"Oh," he says, suddenly excited. "Surfing."
Steve cocks his head to one side. "Yeah, and?"
"Kathy said something about surfing when we were in the bar. She and a girlfriend were surfing--on Thursday? Or Friday?" Danny frowns, confused. "But there were too many jellyfish and they closed the beach. When was that?"
"It was in the news," Steve says. "It was at Ala Moana Beach Park. We should look through the news footage--maybe she's on it, and if we have a face, we can get an ID on her."
Danny nods. "It's definitely worth a try."
"I'll call the studios first thing in the morning," Steve says. "Meanwhile, try and get some sleep, okay?"
As Steve turns to leave, Danny calls out after him. "Steve, hey. Thanks. For this," he plucks the hem of the worn, soft t-shirt, "and for, uh--everything. I appreciate it."
And he truly does. He's exhausted and frustrated and his head still hurts and he's so fucking grateful that Steve knows what his favorite sandwich is and that he has a great big comfortable guest bed and, yeah. Everything. Even the touching. Maybe even especially the touching.
Another warm smile. "You're welcome, Danny."
Steve leaves the room, closing the door behind him and Danny desperately wants to call him back in, pull him down onto the bed and wallow in all that warmth and affection. Which of course, wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen, not with Steve so instead Danny simply flops down on the bed, pulls quilt up and mashes his face into the pillow.
Within minutes he's deeply, soundly asleep.
Go on to Part 2