AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Then I follow my husband through the outdated two-story townhouse and onto the sidewalk filled to the brim with uniforms. Medics. Reporters. Neighbors.
People always come out to rubberneck when police tape wraps around a home. This is something I long ago became accustomed to, and though the reporters annoy me, I never give them the satisfaction of seeing that aggravation on my face.
Archer doesn’t grab my hand as we put space between us and the front door, and he doesn’t reach back to hold my arm and take my weight. Though I know he wants to do both. The man he is today, who was once a boy raised within the confines of a mafia compound that lacked any emotion besides anger and hatred, considers touch his love language. He prefers to carry half my weight everywhere we walk because that’s how he shows me his feelings.
But I know all this already. I know everything important there is to know about him, so I follow him all the way to the attached garage, the roller door already open and CSIs already sweeping through to document every nook and cranny. When he comes to a stop inside, I slow my steps and look down at my feet when he announces, “Give us the space. Please.”
A round of yes, sirs, and yes, detectives ring throughout the concrete room until every person clears out and the door closes, killing every morsel of natural light and leaving us with only the fluorescence of the bars above us. But alone-ness is enough to have Archer’s six feet and three inches zeroing in on me. His dark hair, made lighter because of the faux illumination that makes us both appear a little jaundiced. He steps forward until the toes of his boots touch the toes of mine, and then he scoops his hands beneath my elbows, pulling me closer until I taste his breath on my tongue. “You’re pale.”
I smile and shake my head. Though I don’t push his hands away. I won’t rob us both of the contact we enjoy. Especially knowing after this moment, he’ll go one way and I’ll go another. We’ll meet up again eventually, at home, or at the bar. Maybe at the George Stanley building—my building, where I run a team of technicians and seek justice for the dead. But we’ll work before that. We’ll wade through death and try to find a killer. We’ll collect another man’s blood on our hands and have new images of homicide taking up space in our minds. “I’m not pale, Archer. It’s the lighting.”
“You’re pale.” He leans closer and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “You’re asking too much of yourself lately. It’s pissing me off.”
“We’re living. And working.”
“And taking care of patients over in New York on a whim. Flying across the country instead of sleeping.”
“Keeping people alive,” I insert since he wants to micromanage me. “I’m keeping up.”
“You forgot to infuse last night. We forgot.”
“So I’ll do it tonight. It’s not a big deal.” I push up to my toes and kiss his lips, silencing him before he goes off on a tangent that’ll lead us both to an argument. “I’m doing fine, Archer. I’m healthy. I slept eight hours last night. Which is a lot,” I add, forcing my lips into a wrinkled smile, “I’ve lived on way less.”
“You slept in three separate blocks of time,” he presses. “Two hours. Three hours. Three hours. The first, because I woke you.”
With his tongue creating magic against my skin. His hands, holding me in ways only this man can do.
“I didn’t mind.” I crack a smile that seeks to soften the man who treats me like glass. “In fact, I welcome waking up that way.”
“I didn’t know Cato would wake us again at three,” he groans. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you the first time if I knew my brother would make a racket in the middle of the damn night and break your sleep so much.”
“You can’t control the entire world.” I press another, gentle kiss to his jaw and steal his rebuttal before he can voice it. “Nor can you lock me away in a tower and deprive me of living my life, all in the name of protecting me.”
“I wanna.” He slides his hands along my ribs and up to circle my neck. His thumbs nestling beneath my chin and tilting my head back. “It worked out for Felix.”
Finally, I bark out a laugh and slide out from his hold. “When you start comparing our relationship to that of your brother’s, then I know we’re done with this conversation.” I stalk to the garage door and grab the cold steel in preparation to lift it. “I have a body going cold inside that house, and you have a killer to find.”
“Already found her.” He follows me, but instead of helping lift the garage door, he crushes me to the steel and gently bites at the side of my neck until I gasp. “She literally wrote it on the walls in blood, Chief. Are you blind?”
“My eyes are fine.” Though I close them and allow us twenty seconds more. Thirty, max, before we go back to the real world and exist within the constraints of regular society. “I haven’t even met the woman, and I know you wouldn’t be a very good detective if you jumped such massive distances to the conclusion you’ve deemed foregone.”
“Big words.” He nips a second time and chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back when an odd, betraying whimper escapes the depths of my lungs. “Why are you so sure the only other adult in the house isn’t guilty of this crime? Is it because she’s a woman, and you’re a feminist?”
I throw my elbow backwards, scoring a point when it makes contact with his stomach. Quickly, I spin in place and press my back to the door, staring up into his perfect, green eyes. “You’re typically more intelligent, Detective. Lack of sleep messing with your intellect, or are you trying to be obtuse?”
“I suppose I’m trying to make sure you’re strong enough to work today.” He closes the space I created between us and sets his hand on my hip. His wedding band, hanging from a chain, dangles outside his shirt from around his neck. “If you’re good enough to fight me, then I guess you’re good enough to work a case.”
“Oh good,” I drawl. “I have your permission.” Then I scoff. “And you consider me one of those new-age feminists?”
His smile curls higher; that action alone enough to make my stomach jump. “I consider you a very stubborn woman. And I made the mistake of letting us forget to administer your meds last night. That means we’re on borrowed strength right now, Mayet.” He smacks a violent kiss to the center of my lips and smiles when the back of my head taps the door. “I’ll be checking in on you. Aubs will be made aware of your medical neglect. And,” he adds when I open my mouth to argue, “if you ignore a single one of my phone calls today, I’ll tell Felix you’re not taking care of yourself.”
“Felix?” My eyes shoot wide. The idea of the second-oldest of the five Malone brothers… the, uh… well, the don of the Malone mafia empire, finding out I may have neglected my needs for a day, is a threat. Cold, hard, calculated, and not in any way pleasant. “You would betray my right to privacy to teach me a lesson?”
“In a fucking heartbeat.” He reaches up and tucks a lock of long, brown hair behind my ear. Then, leaning in, he presses a sweet kiss to my cheek. “Don’t ignore my calls. Don’t ignore your body’s cry for medication. And if you need to, you clock out, Chief, take your ass home and infuse. You don’t have to wait for dinnertime.”
Reaching past me, though his eyes remain on mine, he grabs the roller door and lifts it to expose us to an already hot day in Copeland City. We’re mere days from the start of Summer, and already, I know it’s going to be rough. “I better go talk to the wife, huh?”
“That would imply you were doing your job.” Cameras pan across to film our exit, while others focus on the house. The George Stanley building transport van putters along the street and ambles through the crowds, and Aubree becomes the face of the Alves homicide, all because she waits by the front door. “You don’t seriously assume it was the wife, do you?”
