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He scoffs and releases the locks on the door. Like he knew somehow, he opens it wide and reveals a smug Archer.
“You’re about to lose your fucking head, asshole.” Tim shoves away from his brother, but where I was busy watching Tim’s rippling abdomen a moment ago, my eyes now stay on Archer as he steps through the doorway.
He wears jeans and that same thick, black coat I always see him in. A black beanie rests over his head and comes down to warm his ears. And when his eyes flicker to the top of my head, I remember the ugly hat that once belonged to a dead, hotdog-eating adulterer.
Reaching up, I snatch it away and use my other hand to smooth my hair.
“You here picking fights,Minnnka?” Swaggering—that’s the only word that fits—Archer closes the door at his back and makes a beeline for me.
His eyes scream sex and desire and danger and a million other things. But his hands pull me close the moment he can reach, and that screams care and comfort and warm caress.
“Hey.” He presses a kiss to my jaw. Another to the warm skin behind my ear. “You weren’t done with your shit yesterday, so you decided to come here today and poke the bear?”
“Stupid motherfucker!” Tim booms from the far end of the bar. “So fucking stupid.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I think I made him angry.”
“I told you to keep your trap shut.” Leaning in, he takes my lips in a kiss and chuckles so his breath races down my lungs. “You got finished pissing me off yesterday, so today, you decide to come at Tim?”
“I wanted coffee.” Sliding out of Archer’s hold, I snag my half-empty mug and extend my hand as Tim storms back toward the bar. “More please?”
“Last oneever.” He snatches the mug and growls when liquid sloshes over the side. “Tonight, you’re sleeping in a cornfield.”
“Was that a mafia threat? Or do you mean I’m literally moving to Ohio?”
Behind me, Archer’s chest bounces, while in front, Tim’s jaw grinds as he refills my mug.
“You think you’re being cute, but I’m telling you now, you’re already in danger.” Setting the coffee pot back on the warmer, the older Malone sets my caffeine on the bar and growls. “One word to the wrong asshole, and you’re dead. Then Arch will be dead, because his stupid ass is gonna wanna protect you. Then I’ll be dead, because I’ll come in and fucking mow them all down for messing with good and sweet and fucking naive!”
He tears his hat off in frustration. “You’ve pissed me right off.”
“Who?” I take my coffee in one hand and use the other to point back at my chest. “Me or him?”
“Both of you! Now get the fuck out of my bar and don’t come back.”
Ten minutes after walking in, I step outside into the cold again, but where I was nervous before, now I only smile and allow Archer to lead us in the direction of the George Stanley.
“He’s seriously wound tight about that family stuff.”
“Ya think?” He doesn’t throw his arm over my shoulders as we approach my building, but his fingers play with the hem of my coat. He’s still here, still touching. But he does it in such a way that I don’t get mad about a public display of affection.
Or perhaps, like Tim, he worries what happens to ‘nice, normal women’ that a Malone publicly takes an interest in.
“Where are you at with your case?”
Glancing across to me, Arch considers before answering. “Gonna try to run that security footage through facial recognition software today and see if we can pull something up. What we got so far is a dude in a hoodie in a dark club. He knew not to look up, which means he knows Opulus.” Archer slows our steps just outside my building and waits for my gaze to come around. “I’m thinking he’s local, he’s known to these women in some way, and he’s young enough to blend in.”
“So you’re looking for a male between twenty-one and twenty-five-ishyears old. Between five feet seven, and five ten.”
Archer digs his hands into his coat pocket to fight off the cold, and nibbles on his bottom lip in thought. “Approximately a hundred and fifty pounds. No mass to speak of. I’d say he was friendly enough with his victims to make them comfortable.”
“You’re saying they were friends?”
He shrugs and looks to the right when a familiar face wanders closer. Fletch is ready for a new day, and his goofy grin says he got laid at least as much as I did last night.
“I’m saying there was, at the very least,” Archer continues, “recognition there. Kiera worked at the restaurant, so it may be that simple. Might be a good idea to pull security footage from there on the days before her death, too. Maybe he visited. Then we have to figure out where Kylie intersects.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a busy day ahead of you.” Smiling as Fletch wanders closer, I look to Archer and raise a single brow. “I’m going to work.” Then to Fletcher, I add, “youknewI was cranky about Chloe. You knew, Charlie Fletcher, and you let me make a dick of myself anyway.”
