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“Asshole.” Chuckling, he sits back in a squeaky chair, so I know, without seeing, that he reclines at his desk in the middle of the homicide bullpen. “I want a redo, Arch. I got a dud because I made choices too young.”
“You get what you get, bud. And your baby girl is pretty fucking awesome. Veronica Cain wasn’t a bunch of help.” Changing the subject, I cross the street and steer for the busier district. “She basically confirmed Savese was a nobody. He didn’t stick out, and he caused no trouble. She thinks the Evicta drug is a load of horseshit, too, but has no problem hosting the conference for like-minded twits to get together and drink. She has not heard anything back from her staff about Arun. No drunken rampage. No frolicking in the closets with someone other than his wife. There was just nothing.”
“So we’re back to square one,” he groans. “What the fuck?”
“Well… yes and no, I guess. We know the guy was hawking a bogus drug. That would annoy folks.”
“Him and three hundred other people. And Cain saidhedrew no attention at all.”
“She did give me a name, though. A scientist over here at the research institute. You’re gonna have to make contact yourself, though.”
“You’re right there!”
I come around a busy corner and study the street in search of my wife. “I’m on my honeymoon, I’m getting married in a couple of days, and I havenochance of getting her back on this island without blowing my cover. I can’t meet that researcher in person.”
“Archer?”
“Argh!” I spin in place and drop my hand to my hip, my fingers flexing in search of my gun. But I lock on to Minka’s eyes and startle a second time. “Babe?”
Playful and sweet, she looks down at my hand and quirks a brow. “I thought we were on phone bans?”
“We are!” I lift the device and hurriedly kill my call with Fletch, then show her the blank screen and lie through my teeth. “I was about to call you. But here you are.” I slide the phone into my pocket and finally look her up and down. I calm my breathing and toss aside work before I end up groveling on my own honeymoon. Then I examine the Luxe shopping bag clutched in her hand. “You got me a gift?”
She snorts, sauntering forward and sliding under my arm. Then she offers the bag until I’m the one carrying it. “I got it just for you, Archer. With all my love.”
I walk because she walks. Meander, because that’s what she wants. We pass street vendors and groups of men who dance. Many sing. Others clap and cheer them on. We wander toward cafés that smell divine and wagons that sell food with scents that scrape at the bottom of my stomach and beckon me closer. But most importantly of all, I peek inside the bag as we go, only to find its contents wrapped in tissue paper. “How skimpy is it?” I sling my arm over her shoulders and shake away that stupidsense of doom still lodged in my throat. I lied to my wifeon my honeymoon. Fucking awesome. “Wanna head back to the boat and lock ourselves away in our suite?”
She wraps her arm across my back and anchors her thumb through the belt loop of my pants. “I want to eat first. Then we could head to the caves beach.” Glancing across and meeting my eyes, she smiles so her dimples pop. “I heard there’s a secret swimming lagoon just near there.”
“Yeah?” I offer my gift, dangling the much smaller bag off my finger and pressing a kiss to her temple. “How secret is secret?”
“Like, one of the locals told me about it while you were off shopping. It’s not for tourists, it’s hidden so well, even the locals hardly go there.” Then she peeks into her bag and smirks. “And word on the street is that most couples go there to swim in the nude.”
“Oh, well…” I reach into her gift bag and ignore the sunglasses, since I’m not done looking into her eyes yet. But I take out the three bangles that cost, I think, about six American dollars,total. “No way you’re swimming naked.” I slide her bangles on and grin. “I don’t share, remember?”
“I assumed we’d be alone.” Studying her gift, she moves her arm, so they slide over her wrist and jangle the way they did for Veronica Cain. Though I’ll be dead and buried long before I admit my secrets. “These are so beautiful.” Stopping dead center of the grassy area across from the lingerie store, she circles around and pushes up to stand on her toes. Twining her arms over my shoulders and around my neck, she cinches us close enough I could pick her up and we still wouldn’t be any closer. “I’ll cherish them forever.” Extending her neck, she brushes a feather-soft kiss over my lips. “I promise. Let’s get some food and eat it on the beach.”
“Deal.”
MINKA
The next day, I wander around a bedroom suite on the boat that is all dark tones. The bed. The walls. The bedspread, and all the furniture. The carpet is black, and the light shade is, too.
Everything about this room says gloom. Unhappiness. Danger.
It says Felix Malone. Which, I think, is the Malone brother who claimed this room way back when the family purchased a stupidly expensive boat and never expected Archer to marry or need to admit his financial status to the little wife.
Today, unlike most, I suppose, this dark room is shrouded in white. Gowns. Gowns. So many fricken wedding gowns, my stomach tumbles and nerves make me hesitate to touch the fabric for fear sweaty hands will mark them.
Designers have volunteered their hard work, no strings attached, no financial remuneration, and no notoriety. They don’t even get a public wedding, one where newspapers might print pictures of a mafioso’s wedding and stir up a little interest in hopesotherpeople might covet the gown I choose and buy one for themselves.
There’s nothing in it for them. Nothing at all. And yet, as I walk a loop of the room, I count six, seven, eight, nine, ten, or more elaborate gowns. Many with trains that stretch a dozen feet. Several with glitters I suspect, though I hope I’m wrong, are encrusted with diamonds. Some have a mermaid tail, while others are completely and utterlyprincess. Some have no straps at all, and with a heart-shaped bust, while another goes right to a woman’s chin and highlights the wearer’s shoulders.
There’s so much happening in one room. So much fabric and tulle and silk and zippers, my hands quiver with fear and Mary, the woman who was ordered to help me, merely watches my spiral.
“I suggest you try one on, Doctor Mayet.” She, too, got the memo about my job title, and my lack ofMrs. Malone. “Just pick one at random and put it on. Once you’ve tried that, you’ll get an idea of which direction you’d prefer to take.”
“J-just pick one?” My stomach turns with dread. An existential crisis, making my blood run hotter. I have no Aubree here to help me. No chattering best friend to take the choice out of my hands and alleviate that stress. I have no damn clue if I want to look like a mermaid in a few days, or a princess straight out of a Disney classic. Do I want diamonds? Or tulle? A corset that squeezes me to death and creates that silhouette shape most women hope for?
