Page 1 of Dancing in the Dark

1

FLETCH

“She’s gonna kill me, Arch! Fuck!” I hold on tight as we drift around a Copeland City downtown street corner, one hand on the dash, the other wrapped firmly around the handle above my head.

A line of garbage cans explodes ahead of us, trash flying into the air amid fiery sparks as cars scrape against cars.

My pulse thunders painfully in my chest. My entire fuckin’ soul shrivels as our street-racing-wannabe suspect’s six-month-old Mercedes skids out of control and barrels through a horde of pedestrians who skitter in every direction.

If they don’t, they die.

“Arch! Watch it⁠—”

“I’m watching.” He jerks the wheel barely to the left and avoids mowing a baby’s stroller down in the late afternoon sun. “And she’s not gonna kill you. Relax.”

“Right. She’s gonna hate me! That’s way worse!”

The Merc collides front-first with an old fire hydrant bolted into the sidewalk, collapsing the front fender like an accordion, then lifting as a surge of water erupts from underground.

Arch slams his foot onto the brakes so our tires skid on hot asphalt and we both jerk forward.

“Let’s go!” He unsnaps his seat belt in a furious flurry, tossing the metal catch so it cracks against the side window, then he unholsters his gun and shoves his door open. “Move it, Fletch! She’ll hate you more if you waste time sitting when you could be working.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

I’m a dead man.

2

FLETCH

ONE MONTH EARLIER

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Look!”

I stop on the threshold of my new apartment, a heavy box weighing me down, and a thick sheen of sweat pooling… everywhere. But that sweat comes in handy as the brand-new air-conditioning system they recently finished installing in this joint slaps me in the face and cools me all over.

From my vantage point in the doorway, I get a view of the entire kitchen, dining, and living space of our new home on the first floor of Minka’s old building. There’s a bar next door, which could almost be a deal breaker for an overworked cop and his five-year-old kid who definitely needs her sleep.

But this particular bar is owned by the mob-adjacent, which means it’s busy, but it’s never rowdy.

Mia stands on the counter in a poofy ballerina-esque skirt wider than she is by double, the tulle framing a set of stick-thin, knobby-kneed legs, and with hair wilder than a tornado survivor. She counter-surfs fearlessly, bright-eyed and wide-smiled, so when our gazes meet, she cackles and takes a running leap.

Not for me to catch her. But for Cato, her nineteen-year-old, more-mafia-than-the-bar-next-door best friend in the whole wide world.

He skids across the kitchen and saves me from the heart attack that’s never been truly far away since the instant they put a baby girl in my arms at the hospital. He’s on her like white on rice, his long legs eating up the ground and his wiry arms sweeping her close with ease. He holds her the way a hero holds his damsel, but then he blows raspberries against her belly and elicits an ear-splitting squeal from deep in her soul. “You’re not supposed to jump, McStinkerson!” He tickles her mercilessly and spins her away as Archer wanders through and plops a box on the counter. “You almost kicked Uncle Arch!” Cato blows against her belly again. “Where I come from, kicking a mobster in the face would end with you becoming garden fertilizer, little girl.”

“Not a mobster,” Archer grumbles. “I’m a cop.”

“And don’t talk to my daughter about where you come from.” I continue through the door and cart the heavy box of kid’s books all the way to our couch.

It’s not even the crappy, lumpy, broken, and sweat-stained couch from our old apartment.

No sirree. This one is brand-spanking-new and comes with my freshly-signed lease. As are the new beds and mattresses, the new washer and dryer, the new dishwasher, since the old one was fried, and the new fridge.

The Fletchers are moving up in the world.

Minka and Aubree wander through the apartment, their hands suspiciously void of anything heavier than their own phones and sassy attitudes, but since they’re headed into the hall and no one else is going that way, I cast a fast glance back to Cato and Mia. Then to Archer as he opens my fridge and peeks inside. Tim hovers by my front door, but seeing as how he’s more focused on his brothers than he is his wife, I spin on my heels and charge after them.