Chapter Four

Nearly a week had passed since Mello's lazy Saturday with James, and things had gotten much, much busier. For the past few days, Mello had devoted himself completely to learning the art of identity theft. While there were a number of ways to go about it, one of the most lucrative was by hacking into companies' systems and obtaining their customer information.

Unfortunately, this meant that Mello had to do a lot of messing around on the computer, which had never been his forte. Still, he was devoting himself to it just like he used to do with subjects at Wammy's, when he would study day and night just to equal Near's score.

In fact, before he went ahead and did the real deal, he was simulating the process using a number of websites of his own making. They were crude, but it helped Mello to have some stress-free but hands-on practice.

Unfortunately, he was not nearly as good at this as he would like to be. Not to mention that he was oddly distracted by old memories that this assignment had dredged up. Matt would have been doing this stuff when they were still kids at Wammy's. It had been many years ago now since he'd seen or thought of the redhead; Matt had left the institution at the age of thirteen, much to the surprise of everyone involved. Mello, on the other hand, had stayed five more years.

"Don't you think you should take a break?" said James, stepping into the office. "I haven't seen you like this since we first started counterfeiting. Maybe you should get some sleep."

Mello sent him a dirty look. "Sleep is a waste of time."

"You weren't saying that a week ago."

"That's before I had to cram years' worth of learning into weeks."

James chuckled. "I take it that it's not going well?"

"I think I'd rather just go jack some rich woman's purse and steal her credit cards. It would be much simpler."

"You know that's too dangerous."

"Is it?" said Mello, his glacial blue eyes settling on James's face. "You know me, James. Which seems more my style—going out and making things happen, or sitting behind a computer screen, pressing keys?"

"Just because you might be able to get away with it a few times doesn't mean it's the better choice. Besides, overall this way is much safer and we can make sure to target specific corporations and people. If you go after someone on the street, you're taking a gamble, no matter how nicely they're dressed."

"I suppose," said Mello, swiveling his chair back so he was facing the computer once more.

"You want anything? Food? Chocolate?"

"Chocolate, please. Dark—get me the Godiva."

"You got it, babe."

James's footsteps padded away, only to return moments later with a plate that had three truffles on it.

"Thanks, James."

"No prob. Anything to aid the genius at work."

Mello bit into one of the truffles, closing his eyes to savor the flavor for the briefest of seconds, before asking shrewdly, "You know, how come I don't see you doing this, too? If you're such an expert on the situation at hand."

"What, learning how to manage online identity theft?"

"Yeah. You were in with me on the counterfeiting—hell, you taught me how to do it. How come I have to be the one for this job?" The words came out more demanding than Mello intended.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said James, holding his hands up, the picture of innocence. "Natasha doesn't want me fucking it up, all right? You know that's why we found you in the first place. Your IQ, babe. It's off the charts. There's no way I'd be able to learn that as fast as you, and we need to get started right away."

Mello pursed his lips. "What's the rush, anyway?"

James's head jerked oddly as he looked to the side, away from the blond. Mello frowned, puzzled by the gesture. "I dunno," James replied lamely. "Ask Natasha."

"As if I'd go out of my way to converse with that bitch. No way. I'm good."

James huffed. "Come on, Mello, there's no need to be like that."

"She's never given me a reason to enjoy her presence. I'll talk about her how I want."

James's mouth was a thin line, but he (wisely, in Mello's opinion) refused to take the bait.

A ringtone started playing suddenly, and James whipped his phone out of his pocket. "Speak of the devil," he said. "It's Tasha."

"Tasha?" repeated Mello to James's retreating back. Since when did he have a nickname for that woman?

James wandered off to the other room, out of earshot, and Mello sighed as he turned back to the monitor.

What he wouldn't give right now to have an expert here to teach him, like Matt. Mello was okay at learning from books and guides, but his mind really engaged when he was talking with someone. That's how he'd gotten so good so fast at their counterfeiting business. James had been there to explain everything to him. Once Mello had gotten the basics, it didn't take him long to become even better at the process than his boyfriend.

Every so often, he detected a bit of jealousy from James about that fact. He knew that the other man resented him for his skills and quick mind. It didn't make much sense to, though. That was the whole reason they'd met and become business partners, after all. James had wanted someone bright to go in with him and, well, Mello wasn't going to say no to a man who looked like one of his teenage L-fantasies incarnate—except even better.

"Damn it, Mel, focus," he muttered to himself firmly, aware that he'd spent the last couple of minutes daydreaming.

Concentrating deeply, he was startled when James poked his head in the room again, nearly an hour later.

"Hey Mello?"

"Hm," grunted Mello, narrowing his eyes at a particularly stubborn problem he'd encountered.

"I just got off the phone with Natasha; we've got a good-news, bad-news situation."

"Oh yeah?" Interest piqued, Mello stood, stretching and facing James. "What's the deal?"

"Pezox Corp. is reputed to have some very shoddy software to protect their customers' accounts. It's super outdated. Sounds like it would be a fantastic target."

"I'm assuming that's the good news. What's the catch, then?"

"Natasha found out that they're updating and reinforcing their system next week. As in, we have to move fast, or else this opportunity's going to be out the window. At least, until you're a pro, of course."

"Next fucking week?" exploded Mello. "There's no way in hell I'll be ready to hack it before then. Damn it, James; we were talking about rushing things before, but that's nothing compared to what I'd have to do now."

"We have to try," said James firmly. "We need to pick off easy targets first, and we're not going to get a chance like this every day."

"There's no reason to take a risk like this," Mello insisted. "Seriously, we'd be better off continuing to counterfeit for another week rather than go into this too early."

"But I thought you liked risks, babe. You scared?"

Mello looked sharply at the other man. He knew that James had a pretty shady past, and that the man liked to live his life dangerously (usually on the wrong side of the law), but this kind of goading was unusual. Even knowing that, though, Mello couldn't find it in himself to back down. He'd always taken on challenges that were way out of his league and excelled anyway. That was the way he'd maintained his consistent number-two position at Wammy's House.

"You wish I were scared," replied Mello lowly. "All right, bring it on, then. I've managed more impossible feats before."

"That's the man I love," said James, grinning. He swooped in to give Mello a quick peck on the lips, but Mello grabbed James's neck and pulled his face close, opening his mouth and probing with his tongue. Before long both of them were gasping into each other's mouths.

"We can fit in a quickie before I get to work, though," said Mello, raising his eyebrows and staring into James's hazel eyes.

"Yes," agreed James, rubbing at Mello's length through his trousers. "We certainly can."