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“You might need leverage,” she insisted.
I can’t think of anything Katura could do to help. Except, maybe, kick Archer’s ass. I’d love to see that.
“It’s Marlow.”
Apparently Archer picked up, and my heart starts beating wildly as I watch Marlow.
“Droga wants to have a talk… He insists… We are outside your front door.”
We walk into the dim hallway, then the living room. This is my second time here, and already I feel like we are going in circles.
Archer’s broad figure rises from the couch as he stares at us approaching—Kai first, Katura and I following, Marlow staying behind us.
He looks way worse than Kai. Good. But there’s something off about him.
“Marlow, you can go,” Archer drawls, taking slow steps toward us. “I’ll deal with them.”
I hold my breath.
This is another standoff. But there is no fighting ring. No guards. No one but us and him.
My heart is ready to jump out of my chest, and I look around, wondering if there are any weapons here.
“Wondering if you can set something on fire?” Archer’s low voice makes me look at him. He is smirking. “You could’ve killed people.”
“Like you give a shit about people,” I snap.
His smirk disappears, and his eyes shift to Katura and turn cold. “You don’t need to be here.”
“I want to,” Katura says with her usual cocky smile.
His eyes scan her up and down. “I should put you to work, since you are restless.”
“I’d be happy.”
Something happened because they are talking in slick careful snaps.
“Since you are an adrenalin-junkie”—Archer smirks—“I should make you my secretary. So you have your hands full.”
Oh.
Why do I feel like this is an innuendo?
Katura’s face darkens, and despite her ability to conceal her emotions, it’s obvious she is annoyed. Her chin tilts up.
We are standing five or so feet away from Archer. His gaze shifts to Kai and studies his body.
“Got enough exercise yesterday?” Archer chuckles lazily.
He is drunk, I realize, which means his psychotic streak might flare up. Except his movements are slow and relaxed, unlike the typical sharp Archer.
“Let’s talk,” Kai says.
“Finally, words of wisdom!” Archer says too loudly and spreads his arms as if in invitation.
Yes. Drunk. Very.
“Something you are lacking, Crone.”
