8

Chapter Two

Lucifer hurried into view, carrying a heavy medical case with ease, as he stalked to the Corvette. Chloe studied him. The only other time she'd met him, he'd been insufferably smug (not that he wasn't that currently) and offering her a plethora of non-answers about Delilah and about himself. Her research had only confirmed her suspicions, considering he'd been fired from his partnership at a high-priced and generally well-respected L.A. plastic surgery practice after a patient had died under questionable circumstances and cocaine had been found in his system. A few other abnormalities were noted on the testing, but she assumed it was because there wasn't a limit to the amount of chemicals he'd snort. Still, her overall opinion of Dr. Morningstar was that he was trouble.

She didn't doubt that opinion now, even after he'd saved her life.

Her hands trailed over the stitches and the skin underneath that seemed far too clean and untouched after Lucifer had supposedly done impromptu life-saving surgery. But she was alive, and she'd be living to see Trixie again. (Her daughter was over at Dan's mother's for the night.) It was more than she'd ever gotten with her dad. So, for once, she'd park that part of her detective's brain that kept telling her something was wrong, that he shouldn't have been able to save her.

It was the same part of her brain insisting she had no business going to a hospital to get checked out because it would get back to the precinct, and she'd be without a job.

Didn't make her mess of confused feelings where Dr. Morningstar was concerned easier to sift through. He wasn't trustworthy-and of course Dan had made some shady monetary arrangement with Lucifer over all this-and his medical record was spotty at best, no matter what the state of California's medical board eventually decreed. And yet, she was alive, and most of her didn't care the reasoning behind that.

Lucifer finished with settling his equipment in the trunk and finally slid into the front seat beside her. "Detective, I'd advise you put on your seatbelt. Your left shoulder may still be sore-"

She frowned at him, even as she grabbed for the seatbelt buckle. "Actually, I don't feel badly at all. If anything, I feel kind of energized."

Lucifer's jaw clenched a bit as he started his car. Eventually, he relaxed and added, "Perhaps that's the adrenaline, the post-trauma rush. You've had quite a night."

She narrowed her eyes at him even as he pulled off at alarming speed from the curb and toward downtown. "I live out by Brentwood, well, now I do."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Well, isn't that interesting? I have a dear friend, former colleague, who lives out there as well. Of course, she makes far more than a cop's salary. Then again, knowing Espinoza, I assume you may also take more in on the job than just the base salary. More's the pity. I did have you pegged initially as a straight arrow. In Los Angeles, that's terribly hard to find. Rare."

Chloe glared at him. "I am not on the take. I would never do that, and Dan isn't either."

At least, she'd never seen proof he was. However, he did sometimes buy toys for Trixie for Christmas or her birthday that they'd had arguments over, things she didn't think they could afford. But yet, they'd just showed up. The thought that he'd maybe been pinching things here or there had crept into the back of her mind, but it just couldn't be. Wouldn't she know?

Just like you weren't completely surprised that Dan had L.A.'s shadiest doctor on speed dial?

She shook her head, as if that could clear her thoughts as easily. It couldn't…she'd deal with it later, just like being on suspension already, and the wound in her shoulder that wasn't quite, and…

"Well, I happen to know that real estate in Brentwood is far from cheap. What other conclusion am I left to make?" He glanced a look at her but still managed to stay focused on the road. "What's your secret? How do you afford such a place?"

"I don't," she admitted. "My mother offered me her place. I crash on the couch and Trixie is taking the guest bedroom for a while now. L.A. is way too expensive, and I didn't want to deal with hunting for an apartment while everything was going on at work and with the separation."

Lucifer seemed to perk up at that. This time, he turned his whole head toward her as he took an exit out to the 405. "Do tell? I assumed you were still fully committed to holy matrimony. Espinoza referred to you as his wife?"

Her right hand clenched her outer thigh, digging in a bit in her frustration and anger. "Don't think of anything as an invite, Lucifer."

"Oh, I don't, but it's quite the tidbit to file away for later."

"Dan and I are still married. It's just been tense lately," Or for the last eight months. "…and I needed time to think."

"I see," Lucifer said, smirking but at least focusing on the road and not on her.

"Anyway, my mother had the space so that's how it worked out."

"And what does she do?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. Explaining her mother's vocation was complicated. Most of the time, people laughed at some of the titles of the films she'd made. That was usually the best reaction. The worst of it was when someone did know and was secretly some fanboy who wanted to then tell her how The Vampire Queen had rocked their world as teenagers. Info she so did not need to know.

"She's an actress, kind of."

Lucifer shrugged. "She must do well enough for that zip code."

"She's Penelope Decker, alright?" Chloe groused. "I doubt you've seen her films. Her most famous stuff-being generous-was from the early '80s."

Lucifer brightened and glanced at her again. "That Penelope Decker? The Vampire Queen, oh I remember when her first film came out. It was complete shlock but utterly enjoyable." His eyes widened. "Oh, well that is something, isn't it?"

She swallowed hard. That look she knew too. Thanks to Netflix and her dumb-ass one theatrical film being on it for the last couple years, Chloe got that look more often than she wanted lately.

"Oh God."

Lucifer dug his hands tighter onto the steering wheel. "We do not mention Him here. Dad has very little to do with anything."

And right. For all his lazy playboy ways and love of narcotics-clearly-Dr. Lucifer Morningstar (and how had he ever passed anything?) was also insane or, at least, pathetically dedicated to his Devil persona. Jesus, she must have been flatlining if Dan had been desperate enough to call such a batshit crazy option.

"Fine, but just…just don't say it."

He grinned and practically crowed, "I knew you looked familiar back when you interrogated me. I knew it! You were in that lovely little piece of cinema called Hot Tub High School, weren't you? That was also delightful if a bit derivative of Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Phoebe Cates had nothing on you."

Her fingers dug even deeper into her thigh. "Yes, you've seen me naked. How great for you."

Lucifer frowned and seemed to consider that quietly before he spoke. "To be fair, I saw you without your top on just tonight, and this is neither here nor there, but you've held up spectacularly, especially considering you've spawned."

"Excuse me?"

"Spawn? You have a child, and what kind of name is 'Trixie' for a kid? Sounds like a hooker's name if you ask me."

"I didn't," she snapped. "And it's short for 'Beatriz,' which is Dan's mother's name, and why am I still even talking to you?"

"Because we have a stretch before I drop you off at home, and honestly, Detective, I am actually encouraged and glad you are both awake and speaking coherently. It speaks well to your recovery and prognosis. I'd have tried to keep you awake at either rate, but keeping you annoyed and chatting seems to work rather well."

She blinked. "You're needling me to make sure I'm not dead?"

"Or at least not slipping into shock." He shrugged again as the wind down the 405 shoved his unruly hair all over the place. "Bully for you. You seem sharp as ever."

"Anyway, I guess that's all you really need to know about me. More than you ever needed to know. Mom's been great about giving me a place to stay, and Dan…what did you even ask from Dan?"

"I thought we established that cold, hard cash was in the offing, darling?"

"Do not call me that." Curious, she leaned forward and dug into his glove box. She snorted when she found the contents. On one hand, she was far from shocked to find the baggie of coke and a few, stray blunts. If they were meeting again under any other circumstances, she'd arrest him for that much drug paraphernalia, but he'd saved her life and, much as it pained her to let infractions go, she had no right to pull out the handcuffs on him now. However, she did not expect the literal piles of burned CDs in the glove box either. "Wow that's…"

"Yes, I have a bit of a pharmacy in my car. Don't be surprised."

"No, I mean CDs. I don't think I've seen anyone who still has these in like years."

He rolled his eyes and picked one up, swerving a little in the lane and giving her a heart attack when they just missed a pick-up next to them. Lucifer shoved the CD in the player and pressed play. Soon, some 80s pop she didn't really recognize was blaring on the radio. Possibly the Bangles; she wasn't sure.

"I never took much to those i-Thingies. I don't have a smart phone either. Believe me, my assistant Ella has been all over me to convert from the basic mobile, and I hardly see the point."

The CD chose then to skip on a couple of lines, crooning out about an eternal flame on a loop, until Chloe extracted it, blew on it, and shoved it back in. It wasn't really going to help long term, but it did smooth out playing the song for now at least.

"MP3's don't skip."

"And I'm a busy bloke, don't have time to convert to the newest mechanical whatnot."

"Doing things for the rich and the seedy?"

"You should be thankful that Daniel called me. I'm quite the miracle worker, Detective."

"How much?"

"Come again," he asked, side eyeing her, even though they both knew exactly what she meant.

"How much does Dan owe you? There's no way he can pay your fees. Most of L.A. knows about you and it's all very infamous."

He brought one hand to his chest and grinned. If he weren't such an asshole, she'd almost find the look charming. Almost. As it was, she found his smarmy act repulsive on a chemical level. "Famous, darling. Lucifer Morningstar is assuredly famous, not just merely infamous. Also, the exact amount is between me and my client. You're the patient, sure, but Detective Douche is the one who will be providing the dosh."

"He's not dirty," she huffed.

"Are you rather sure about that."

She sighed and watched the side of the road, gesturing to the exit for her mother's neighborhood. "I'm not, but I just…I didn't die tonight, that's all I can go on for now. I don't want to know how much you charged him or how he's finding that kind of money. I think I've known for a while, especially since he was Malcolm Graham's partner and I know for sure that Graham was crooked as they come. I just…for Trixie's sake, I didn't want to believe it. She deserves better."

"He did this particular bit of dirty deed to save your life, Detective. There should be some cold comfort in that." Lucifer surprised her a little by dropping his right hand from the steering wheel and patting her shoulder awkwardly before putting in back where it had started from. "Besides, you're what? Forty?"

She rolled her eyes and turned from the scenery to glare at him. "Thirty-four."

"Yes, but the point still stands that you're far too old to be naïve about how the world works."

"I'm not, but I want more from the people in my life, from the man I'm supposed to trust, than to have him dealing with shady thieves."

Lucifer bristled at that. "I don't steal. I provide a service. I don't ask how people can afford me, as long as they can. It's not my place to ask, and it serves me well not to. But I take care of all patients equally well, and sometimes, Detective, even the most unscrupulous people in the City of Angels deserve care as well. Isn't it like your job?"

"I don't work for the highest bidder like a glamorized medical hooker," she shot back.

His hands tightened so much on the steering wheel that for a moment, she had the impossible thought that something had cracked. "I'm not."

"You're hardly respected."

"I'm needed, and tonight I was needed for you. Besides, when you're called to a crime scene, even if it's a spot of gang violence and the victim has been embroiled in underworld activities, you still do your best to find their killed and bring that miscreant to justice, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, when one of my clients calls me, I do the same. I took an oath, and I hold that sacrosanct. I care for my patients, even if others do not."

She considered that even as her own grip on her thighs relaxed. Damn it. He had here there. "Yes, I guess so."

His eyes almost seemed to flash brighter for a moment, but that had to be a trick of the street lamps overhead. That and her impossible exhaustion and fear as the adrenaline wore out. "I am no one's whore, Detective, medical or otherwise. The only person I work for is myself. Believe me, getting this far came at great cost."

"Oh, I've heard."

"You haven't even an idea of it," Lucifer said. He turned where she indicated, and they were winding down the road that would end in her mother's beach house. "Besides, what is it you desire, deep down? Espinoza clearly has peccadillos, nasty little bits of greed that made him probably closer to his old partner's schemes than he should have been."

"I'll bet. Dan and I are going to have the longest conversation once I'm well enough to scream at him. I can't even."

"Yes, but I have to wonder about you. My first impression remains correct and you're as straight an arrow as the LAPD can offer. Foolish that. Detective Douche isn't the only boy in blue and hardly the highest ranking one with me on speed dials to help messes go away. You're probably far too idealistic for them."

"My dad worked for them. He was a good man. I'm a good person, so we can't be the only two who ever worked there. Don't be such a cynic."

He shrugged and pulled to the curb outside of her mother's bungalow. "Comes with the territory. Medical work and all that. I have seen more death than you'd realize."

"Didn't think that came from vacuuming out L.A.'s most vapid."

Lucifer's lips curled into a bitter smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I had residencies once. I wasn't always that type of surgeon, and I'm hardly that now."

She frowned, looking up at him, at the sincerity and regret in his dark eyes. Why even work so hard to become a doctor and let drug addiction and only God knew what else drag him down and out of it?

"Alright, so cynically you're probably right and the LAPD isn't what I want it to be, but someone has to change it. Someone should."

"Admirable, try not to get swatted down for such virtues, darling." He narrowed that gaze at her even as he unhooked his own seatbelt. "Detective, I'm rather serious. What is it you desire? Your estranged husband is transparent in his wants-that usual jockeying for money and respect. But you, what is it you'd like?"

He leaned closer to her, eyes wide and unblinking, and it was unsettling but that was all it was. Yet Lucifer kept looking at her as if something should be happening. Maybe he'd used this weird stare-off trick with Barnes when he'd had the alone time with him. Could be a look that intimidated some, but she wasn't going to fold and tell him the story of her life or anything else that deep for no reason.

"That's a lot to ask, even if I'm your patient currently and you have concerns about me."

Lucifer blinked, seemingly startled, but the confusion was only on his face for an instant before he schooled his expression back into one of supreme arrogance. Joy. Like that was something she'd missed. "Quite," he slid from his seat and then walked to the other side of the car to open the door. "I'd prefer checking in on you by tomorrow afternoon. You seem stable, but believe it or not, you've suffered quite a bit of trauma tonight. I must try again to get you to see some reason. You'd do better being seen in hospital."

"No."

"Yes, your suspension…but, truly, you don't want to take chances."

"I want to keep my job," she replied.

His shoulders sank a bit at that. "Yes, well, then I'll be back here by four p.m. tomorrow to do a follow up with you. Try and take it easy, and if possible, see if you can have your mother around or someone to watch you. I don't think you'll slip into shock, but it's still possible." He groused to himself as he futzed with car door handle. "Bloody stupid thing. One part of the 'Vette even Maze's guy couldn't get fixed right."

Lucifer yanked again and stilled, all color draining from his face. The door pulled open in his grasp, but Lucifer seemed trapped there, staring down at his hand.

Confused, Chloe stood up and stepped away from the car, making sure to shut the door behind her. Following Lucifer's gaze, she stared down at his hand and at the line of blood dripping from a gash in his forefinger.

"Ouch, guess it caught on something, huh?" she offered, trying to break the tension between them. "At least you have to have basic first aid supplies in here with the impromptu MASH surgery table, right?"

Lucifer still seemed oddly pale all of a sudden, even as his Adam's apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed. "I…yes. It wouldn't be a bother to patch up either." He looked back into her eyes. "I…who are you really, Detective?"

"I don't know why you keep asking?" she said. "Weird way to check I'm still coherent. I'm Detective Chloe Decker, work for the LAPD, it's January 25, 2016…etc. I swear I'm okay, no blacking out and no shock, at least not yet."

He took a sharp, shallow breath and nodded. Dropping his injured hand to his side, Lucifer nodded. "Quite right, then. Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Do take care and Espinoza has my number. If anything changes, call me immediately. Trust me, I'll be up anyway doing some research."

"I think I'm going to be okay," she replied, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I still think you're pretty much slime."

"Ta ever so."

"However, you saved my life. I get that if it had been any other doctor or paramedic that I'd be dead, and I can't…I can't do that to Trixie. So, thank you, Lucifer. I…you're going to be okay, right?"

He quirked his head at her, and she got the disconcerting sensation of being studied like a specimen under a microscope. "Right as rain, but call me if any complications occur. Trust me, I will not be slumbering."

She rolled her eyes, even as she headed to the door. Considering his stash of just casual use cocaine in his car, she had no doubt that Lucifer would be wired through tomorrow, so called research or not.