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“Uh… excuse me, princess.” He balks but ends on a snicker. “That ain’t legal.”
I scoff and quicken my steps. “And you made itquite clearthis morning that you have a blind spot for certain laws to be broken. If you can be okay with organized crime, then you can be okay with running this guy and sending me what you find.”
“And what,” he asks, “do you need that information for?”
“I’m working a sex crime, and the lead detectives figure Fentone to be our guy. He’s been in and out of prison all his life, and most of his felonies have revolved around brutalizing little girls. Since I’m working the case, I’d like to know who they’re looking at. And since I’m Chief M.E., I doubt anyone’s gonna mind that I have his files for a little light reading. I’d ask Archer, but he hasn’t called me all day, which kinda says he’s cranky and not willing to bend the law for me today.”
“Today?” Fletch coughs out a laugh as I slow in front of my building and push through the glass front door. “How often does he bend the law for you, Dimples? And is it big stuff? Or unpaid parking violations?”
“I don’t even own a car.” I pass my sweet landlord, brush my fingers over his cardigan-covered shoulder in greeting, and head up the stairs. “I’ve never gotten a parking ticket in my life. But what laws Archer bends for me are for only me to know. Can you do this for me? Spread your acceptable felonies out a little?”
He snorts. “Fine. I’ll run him and bring the files over tonight. You need paper, because I’m not emailing you with this shit. What are you doing for dinner?”
“Uh…” I round the second floor and move onto the third. “Not accepting a date with you, that’s for sure. In fact, it’s getting kinda weird that you won’t take a hint.” I skip every second step, my adrenaline rushing faster as I come to the fourth floor and catch sight of my door. “I’m going home to my husband, Detective. I’m eating dinner with him. But if you stop at the store and get dessert on your way, you can talk about Fentone with me while we eat ice cream.”
I shove my key in the door and jiggle it in the lock. “You can bring Mia, and we can hang out. You could probably even bring Miss Penny and introduce us to your new girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he grumbles. “And, wait, Delicious—”
“Archer?” I move across my threshold and slam the door at my back. Dropping my briefcase to the floor, and my keys in the bowl nearby, I work one-handed to get my coat off. “Archer!”
“Delicious,” Fletcher tries again. “That’s why I’m calling.”
“What?” I drop my coat and make my way to the unlit living room. “Archer? Are you home?”
“Minka,” Fletch tries one last time. “Archer’s not there.”
“What?” My steps grow more frenzied as I jog to the bedroom at the end of the hall and flip on the lights.
Empty.
Then I rush back to the kitchen and hate how my stomach hollows out at the single folded sheet of paper on the counter.
“Charlie Fletcher! Where’s Archer?”
“I was calling to tell you,” he groans. “I was trying to tell you before you got home.”
I stop in the middle of my kitchen and snarl, “Whereis he!?”
“New York. He’s…” Fletch exhales a sad sigh. “Shit, Minka. He went to New York.”
ARCHER
Familiar streets play tricks on my consciousness. Tree-lined drives. The airport, the exits, and after that, the Queensboro Bridge that leads us east.
We move in a luxury Lincoln, an amenity my family has yet to give up, despite their fear of a turf war.
If they’re to fight, they’ll do it in style, I suppose.
Felix, the always cavalier Malone, sits further back in his seat the closer we come to home, chewing on his thumbnail and bouncing his knee to work through the excess energy that runs in his veins, while beside me, Tim grows more tense. His shoulders, hardening to stone, and his eyes, glittering with unconcealed rage.
He took a stand against our father by leaving New York—his departure, a bigger statement than even I made—and I doubt he ever intended to return. But family loyalty means his free will has been taken away. He’ll walk toward danger before he leaves one of his brothers to die.
Even Micah.
“Where’s Dad?” I keep my voice low, so our driver isn’t privy to more of our family drama than necessary.
The sun long ago went down outside our tinted windows, the flight back east stealing all of my day and bringing a fresh ache to my heart as time speeds on and my phone remains void of communication from my wife.
