Page 123 of Dancing in the Dark

“Right. So you knew back then, like you knew every single time I attempted to shake you off, that IA would keep a close eye on us. Because of me. It’s how things would be for as long as you insisted on loyalty.”

“So, what? I’m the asshole because I’m too good of a friend, even when it costs me promotions? How is this even an argument right now?”

“No, bitch. You’re the asshole because you swore you’d made peace with this shit. But now Markum’s here and filing a few minor complaints, and suddenly, you’re losing your head.”

“I’m not losing my head! I’m appropriately concerned about my income and food insecurity. Those are not things you can relate to.”

“Sure. And the texts you’re getting? The phone calls? Your little ‘I’m the king of the world, and I’m buying burritos today’? You’re working something on the side, Fletch. Something you won’t even share with me. I don’t have to know everything about everyone, but I thought we knew everything about each other. Add in that your poker face sucks and you have zero chill, which means whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, it’s bad. It’s the kind of bad that’ll mean no income and no grocery money if you get caught. Instead of coming to me about it and letting me help, you’d rather rage and scream and act like IA is a brand-new development in our lives. So how’s that stance on loyalty now?” His lips peel back with a vicious snarl. “Worth the price of admission?”

My nostrils flare. Because fuck, he’s right there. He’s on the money.

“If you wanna keep the secret, keep it. I won’t lie; it hurts my feelings a bit, cos I thought we were tighter than that. Who knows, maybe someday you’ll trust me enough to know, like I trusted you enough to share everything about my past. But if you want any chance of not getting caught, then you’ve gotta stop letting Markum mess with your head. He’s making you look like a fool. Worse.” He slams his palms against my chest. “He’s making you look guilty. Every time he lays a trap, you walk right in like there’s gonna be an attaboy for you at the end. You need to remember who the fuck you are, Charlie. Remember that kid from the academy, the one who wouldn’t shut up even when I really, really wanted him to. The one who learned how to grapple in parking lots because he’s always known food insecurity, but at least back then, he fought for a better life. Now?” He looks me up and down. “You’d prefer to bitch and whine. Do the job, or don’t. Fall in line and help me close this case so we can send him packing, or don’t. But stop acting like the world is out to get you. Stop acting so damn guilty. And for the love of Christ, stop whatever it is you’re doing when those texts come in.”

“I’m setting us up.” Flexing and releasing my fists, I search his eyes and consider where, exactly, I should hit him to make this conversation go away. “I’m sick to death of worrying about making ends meet, so yeah, I’ve got something happening on the side. A few dollars here, a few dollars there. It’s low risk, high reward, and if I keep it up for a little while longer, then maybe I’ll get a fancy house on the hills too.”

Stunned, his brows shoot high on his forehead. “Is this about safety nets, or because you think you need to compete with me?”

“It’s about making damn sure I don’t have to choose between rent and groceries anymore. It’s about never having to tear the couch cushions apart, hoping to find a few dollars hidden beneath, even though I already checked there the day before. And the day before that. It’s about having a little girl who deserves the fucking world, and being tempted for a teeny tiny second, a single fraction of a second, by the deal your nineteen-year-old brother tossed my way.”

“Cato?”

“He wanted to buy her from me, Arch. And maybe he said it with a laugh, maybe he was kinda joking, but he was kinda serious too. And fuck, but I considered it. Not because I’d trade her for money, but because he can provide her with a life I can’t. Because that asshole was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and since that wasn’t enough, he was given athletic talent straight from God’s hands himself. He loves her, he’ll protect her, and he will never, ever have to check under the fridge for a dollar before the tooth fairy can swing by and do her job. If my options are to pick up a few jobs here and there on the side, or sell my daughter to the fuckin’ mob, then yeah, I’m gonna do what I’ve gotta do. And since I’m going, I’m gonna save up a little more and hope Sera agrees to stick around for the long haul. I’m gonna get us a house, a white picket fence, and enough savings that next time we run up against the brass, I don’t instantly start sweating about how I’ll pay rent that week. Once we’re comfortable, I’ll stop. In the meantime, not having IA up my ass sure would be helpful, because if they take a peek at my bank account and see a little extra funneling in, then I’m cooked, anyway.”

“So, what you’re telling me is you’re not even a very good criminal,” he bites out. “You’ve got yourself into a situation that’s gonna spiral out of control soon. Guaranteed. You’re dealing with some bogey third party you won’t even tell me about. You’re accepting bank transfers like a fuckin’ newb. And you did all this knowing IA probably has an entire team dedicated purely to me and you.”

Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck this entire fuckin’ situation.

He scoffs. “This whole time, I’ve been shielding you from the Malones as best I could, when really, I should’ve been teaching you. Tell me who you’re working for. Let me help you unravel this mess before it gets worse.”

“No.” I move around him. One step. Then two. “I didn’t get the house and fence yet. But don’t fret. It’s not as bad as it seems. I promise.”

“Fletch!” He stays where he is, his eyes blazing with something akin to grief. “Don’t go in there and set your happiness on fire.”

I spin and walk backwards. “I won’t. I’ve got this.”

“She’s not gonna keep excusing bad behavior.” He points straight past me. “She can’t keep taking those hits, not when the one hitting her is the one begging her to stay.”

“I said I’ve got it under control.” I drop my hands into my pockets and turn again. Ironically, the argument I didn’t want to have is the one that burned up a bunch of the rage searing my stomach. Now I’m just tired.

Now, I want to be with my girls.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. And yeah.” I glance over my shoulder and meet his pained stare. “It was worth the price of admission. I don’t regret my choices.”

47

SERAPHINA

Mia sprawls lazily across my lap while cartoons play on the television and the clock ticks later.

Later.

Worryingly later.

Her eyes long ago glazed over, her thumb turned pruny from nibbling on it, and though the lights are out and I hoped she’d fall asleep rather than wait up for her dad, here she is anyway, in a trance of sorts and bolstered by the determination only a five-year-old excited to talk about our adventures could summon.

I catch the quiet beep of the apartment door unlocking. Glancing to the left and watching in silence as Charlie lets himself in and closes the door behind him, I stroke Mia’s hair and study the man who is, put plainly, bone-deep exhausted.

He peers this way, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the low light, then his lips curl, and his hands automatically move to the guns strapped to his body. Like he always does, he disarms himself, peeling holsters off, dropping his wallet and badge into a bowl by the door, then he moves into the hall to deposit his weapons safely in his room.