AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Something about impulsivity,” I snigger. “Could also be the fact that he’s his father’s successor. No matter how much he hated the old man, certain personality quirks remain.”
“So what I’m hearing,” Fifi inserts, “is that Felix Malone is a criminal bastard, and everyone here, except for me, is in love with a Malone. Thus, a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome and my companions are, for lack of a better word,stupid.”
“Hey. No one kidnapped me,” I mumble. “My love is pure. And only partially coercion.”
“I’m not in love with a Malone,” Aubree grumbles. “Your assumptions make you look foolish.”
“So?” I look at Christabelle again, though I keep an eye forward as we cross the street. “Felix. Is it nasty and dark and dirty?”
“Is it nasty and dirty and dark with Archer?” she counters. “They’re brothers, Doctor. Similar stock. I’m certain their similarities go further than the color of their eyes.”
“I mean… sometimes.” I picture us in bed. And in the ocean. Beneath a waterfall. I see his handprints on my thighs, and I feel his teeth marking my skin. I think of the way we make love. But also, the way we fuck. He once said hefucks like a dog. And at the time, I was offended at how crass he was being.
But now… now, my stomach tingles when I think of those experiences, too.
“It can be dark.” I bite my bottom lip to keep me from spilling too much. I’m a private person by nature. Add in thattwoofmy staff members are with us, and I’m tiptoeing a line I have no desire to step over. “I bet Tim can get real dark. He’s got that brooding, angry energy that Archer and Felix have been able to shed.”
“Oh, look.” Aubree thrusts her arms toward the convention center. “We’re here! Now shush.” She scowls when I smile and looks down to fix her shirt. “Smarten up, Scooby Gang. We need to look competent in here, or else we’ll be laughed at. Then the feds are gonna swing in and solve the crime I already know the answer to.”
“Youthink,” I insert with a snigger. “You’re not completely sure.”
“Like, ninety-eight percent sure.” Straightening her shoulders and elongating her neck, she pushes her chest out and starts forward. “Those are good numbers.”
“And what exactly do you intend to do with your prisoner once you’ve elicited a confession?” I walk a little faster to keep up with her stride. “Aubs? It’s all good and fun to talk to people you’re ninety-eight percent sure mass murdered sixty-three people this past week. But then what? Will you ask him to nicely sit still and wait while you call Fletch? Who,” I stride ahead of her and stop before she stalks through the convention center door, “you can’t call and tell him about because then he’ll tell Archer I’m working. And if he finds out I’m working on my honeymoon, he’ll get hurt feelings and a sense ofah-ha! I don’t like when he’s smug like that.”
“Your relationship is not healthy,” Christabelle murmurs. “You’re sneaking and lying on your honeymoon?”
“Oh shut up, Debbie! Your boyfriend kidnapped you and hasn’t let you leave since. No one’s relationship is perfect.”
“Oy.” Fifi brings a hand up and jams her thumb and finger into her eyes. “You’re all in desperate need of professional help.”
“We are the professionals!” Aubree announces. Stepping around me with a flourish of her arm, she pushes through the tall glass door and emerges into an air-conditioned haven filled with staff, guests, a giant waterfall, and on the far wall, a rainbow display of hand-crafted jewelry that draws my eyes. “Let’s act like the smart, educated professionals we are, ladies.”
Aubree starts toward the elevators. Our fearless leader, which is a fun role reversal for us.
She’s clearly got a little frustration to work through, and rather than dealing with that with Tim—horizontally—she’s choosing to throw herself headfirst into a murder investigation instead.
“I don’t mean to be competitive or anything,” slapping the elevator button and glancing back as the doors open, Aubs strides in and waits for the rest of us to join her, “but if my suspicions are correct and I do, in fact, solve this crime, that means my perp’s sixty-three body count exceeds all the others you’ve solved since moving to Copeland.”
Surprised, my brows shoot high on my forehead. “Excuse me?”
“Well… you’re the head hoo-haa, right? And we all know you’re a badass with a perfect close rate.”
My eyes narrow to slits. “Okay…”
“But most of those cases were one dead vic at a time. We’ve had a couple with three or four, but generally, we work single-body investigations.”
“You’re comparing vic numbers?”
“In a totally tasteful, non-disrespectful way. Let’s say we get one body a week, four weeks per month. You’ve been in Copeland since December. So, what? Average that out to thirty-something cases. Some went longer than a week, and some, shorter. Add in the Opulus killer, who dropped a few in a fewdays. Minus out the dead guy who woke up alive in the fridge, and I?—”
“The dead guy?—”
“Let’s just work with averages,” she simpers, her bow lips curling mischievously. “I’ll even round you up to soothe your ego. That’s forty bodies.”
“Doctor Emeri!”
“But if I’m right, and our killer is who I think it is, this case alone adds sixty-three bodies to my tally.”
