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He will never intentionally bring me harm.
“You awake?” Archer’s voice is deep. Throaty and dangerous. “We good?”
“It’s Sunday.” I don’t open my eyes, though I see in my mind the dark bedroom, shrouded in shadows. I see the ratty curtains covering our window, and the door securely closed to keep others out of our private space.
Maybe Cato has moved in. And maybe every other Malone on the planet helps themselves to our apartment whenever they please. But no one comes into this room except me and Archer.
It’s sacred. And it was the one trigger I knew would send Archer toppling over the edge last night.
“I’m not ready to get up.”
“You don’t have to.” He presses a gentle kiss to my bare breast, eliciting a deep rumble of pleasure from the depths of my chest. “Cato’s still asleep. The city is having a lie-in. You have fresh coffee, and I have nowhere to be for another half hour.”
“Mmm?” I don’t rush myself toward complete consciousness. Instead, I swim around in that in-between place, where I’m not asleep, but not truly awake either. “Where are you going in thirty minutes?”
Silence hangs for a moment, heavy enough to draw my eyes open. But then he admits in the darkness, “I have to go to work. Fletch and I are getting closer on this Alves case.” He angles his head so the minimal light coming from the window shines on the planes of his face. “But I won’t be gone all day, I promise.” He leans closer, his aftershave filling my lungs and his callused hands, like crackling candy on my flesh. “I was thinking we could go to the waterfalls later. It’s hot enough.”
“The waterfalls?” Frowning, I squirm when he slides his fingertips along my hip bone. “Up in the hills?”
“That’s usually where one finds a waterfall,” he teases, his smile perfect in the early morning light. “We could go swimming again. Fuck under the rock wall.” Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to my chin. “Mostly, I just wanna see you in a bikini, since our honeymoon is never happening.”
“What?” Slowly, I push up in bed and hum when his hand goes to my back. To stroke. To soothe. “Why is our honeymoon never happening?”
He scoffs, inaudible, but the gentle breeze forces my hair back and tickles my ear. “I made a bet that Adrianna Alves was our killer. In an hour,” he adds, his voice still quiet in the darkness, “I’m heading down to the station to let her go.”
“You are?” I pull back just far enough to see his forest-green eyes in the low light. “You think she’s innocent?”
“I think my case is flimsier than a house of cards in a rainstorm. You were right, Mayet. I was wrong. And I was so cocky about it, I jumped ahead and made a bet on it.”
“So you’re trading a honeymoon for the waterfalls?” I fold my arms over my raised knees and rest my chin on my arms. “That’s gotta sting, huh? Not only are you the epitome of arrogant on the job, but you’re a romantic, too, and you really wanted that week on an island.”
“And you…” He cups the back of my hair and tightens his hand. “Are incapable of humility when you’ve won a bet, I see. Interesting.”
“Unsexy?”
He laughs and leans in to take my lips with his. “There’s nothing you could ever do that is unsexy to me. Even your bullshit last night made me hard. But…” He pulls back, working to see my eyes in the dark. “I was thinking…”
“Mmm?” I lick my lips and enjoy his flavor on my tongue. “What were you thinking about?”
“You. Me. Work.” He releases my hair and gently pushes away from the bed, only to cross to the window and part the curtains so morning light filters in. It’s an overcast day. Humid already, despite the early hour. “We’re heading back to Professor Jones’ place to see what else we can squeeze out. He’s a predator, Mayet. He plays favorites with his female students, enjoys visiting them in their homes, uninvited, and he’s not the type to accept being told no.” Coming back to the bed, he perches on the side of the mattress and leans across to grab the coffee he already brought in. But instead of taking it for himself, he places it in my hands and smiles when our eyes meet. “I thought, since you’re the Chief Medical Examiner, and William Alves is your patient, you could swing by our interview and see what you see.”
“Now you’re just trying too hard.” I roll my eyes, but I smile anyway and take a luxurious sip. “Pity invitation, all because we had a fight about it?”
“That wasn’t a fight. It was revenge sex and roleplaying. We both know it. So you wanna come or what?”
“To Robert Jones’ house? You’re inviting me to meet a man you label a predator? A man who is not only a former cop, but former Organized Crime Squad?”
“It’s Sunday.” He steals my coffee and takes a long sip for himself. “And you’re freshly Factored up. You bring a different perspective to my case, one with a medical bent, and Jones will wanna please you, anyway.”
“And Fletch?” I question. “How does he feel about me stepping on cop toes?”
“He was the one who suggested I bring you to Jones in the first place. I figure it can’t hurt anything, and it’s me showing you my regret for yesterday’s behavior.”
“Not wanting to include me in every facet of your career is not poor behavior, Archer. Separation is okay.”
“Yeah,” he acknowledges with a gentle nod. “But cuffing you to someone else? Taking away your voice and freedom? That wasn’t cool. That was the Malone in me.” He pinches my chin and draws me in until our lips feather close together. “Sometimes, like yesterday, I’m reminded exactly who the fuck my father is. Maybe DNA doesn’t lie, Mayet, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept those behaviors. And it sure as shit doesn’t mean you have to accept them.”
“I mean…” Playful, I allow my lips to curl into a teasing smile. “I love the Malone in you. So don’t push it away completely.”
