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“He didn’t invite me. But I’m not the type to sit on my hands and wait for a stone-etched invitation, either. I wanna get some time in on the court. I won’t interfere with his team if he doesn’t want me to. But no way I’m not making myself known to them.”
“They’re a pro basketball team, Cato.” I drop a little creamer into my coffee before tossing the carton back into the fridge. “You haven’t even attended your college orientation yet. They’ll have no interest in you until you’ve put a couple years in and prove what you got.”
“Or…” He flops onto the couch, his long legs hanging over the end and his ball shooting into the air above him. He throws it up, bounces it off the ceiling, catches it, and then repeats. “I go down there anyway. Because I know I’m the best fuckin point guard heading up in the game. Why make me wait, when I can help them win now?”
“Because you’re still a child?” I turn my back to the counter, picking up my coffee to sip. I have about three minutes left till my day begins. That’s all the quiet I’ll get—and that quiet includes my annoying brother. So I scoop my arm around Minka’s hip and draw her closer until her ass nestles against my cock and her back rests on my chest. We don’t need to discuss this anymore. There’s no need to verbalize the fact that I need to touch her. She just comes to me. She knows what I need. “You’re eighteen, Cato. Barely. You’ll be the smallest in the league. And those other guys… they’ll steamroll right over you.”
“I’m bigger than my peers. By a long shot.”
“So be the biggest motherfucker in the college comps. Dominate them and get a few years of being on top there before you throw yourself into the pros and end up on the injured roster before your debut game is over.”
“Or…” He counters a second time, more obnoxious than the first. “Be smaller and faster than them. Run circles around the old fucks currently headlining the game. I’ll continue to grow for a few more years, and my skill set will explode, because if it doesn’t, I’ll get my ass beat.” He catches his ball and pushes up on the couch to look over the back and meet my eyes. “I don’t mind starting at the bottom, Arch. Makes my rise to victory that much more fucking awesome. But I’d rather be a grunt in the pros than a star on a team filled with kids.”
“You’re arrogant,” Minka mumbles around the lip of her mug. “I’ve yet to actually see you play. Have you gotten an opinion from anyone besides the reflection in your mirror that you’re good at basketball?”
He flops back on the couch and starts tossing his ball again. “I’ll play against you, Doc. One on one. Every time I score on you, you gotta take off an item of clothing.”
She scoffs, tips her coffee back as the apartment door rattles, then places her mug on the counter as Aubree steps in. She doesn’t knock. Doesn’t request entry. She just helps herself. “He says he doesn’t want to be at the top of a league he feels too good for, but he’ll challenge me to a game, knowing I’ve never bounced a ball in my life. Doctor Emeri.” Minka presses her hand to my chest and fingers the wedding band I keep hanging over my heart. “Detective Malone. I’m going to work.”
“You didn’t eat.” I press a fast kiss to her lips before stepping around her and yanking the fridge open. I learned after about twenty-three minutes of knowing this woman that she never prioritizes feeding herself. That’s when I discovered breakfast in a pouch.
Yogurt. Muesli. Fruit.
Thirty-seven grams of protein.
A hundred clean calories.
Enough to get her through till lunch.
I take out two pouches, and toss one to Aubree, since she could do with a meal, too, then I slam the fridge shut, placing the second pouch in Minka’s hand, and another kiss on her lips. “Eat. And maybe consider this thing called water today.” I look at Aubree and raise a brow. “Doctor?”
She lifts both hands in surrender. “I’m doing my best just to get her to eat a taco if we pass a street vendor. Waterboarding her would be risking my life and job.”
“Smart answer.” Minka cracks the seal on her breakfast and blows a teeny-tiny air kiss that only I get to see. “I expect you’ll be by my office at some point today, Detective. I have possession of your vic. You have a crime to solve.”
“Morning.” Fletcher enters our apartment too. No permission sought. No knock. Not even a discussion that he would come by this morning. But he brings Moo too and sets her on her feet. “Sorry I’m late.”
I look at the clock on the wall—still on New York time—and count back until I discover it’s still barely seven. “You’re not late. We’re not on shift till nine, technically.”
He chuckles, crossing my kitchen and helping himself to the coffee machine. “Technically doesn’t mean shit all when we’re working an active. And considering our chief medical examiner is here already, it seems I’m late for the meeting.”
“I live here.” Minka picks up her briefcase and glances down when Mia wraps herself around her thigh. “Hey, baby. Aunty Minka has to go to work.” But she sets her briefcase on the floor and crouches to meet the girl on her level. “Are you going to work with Daddy today?” She taps Mia’s pert nose and smiles. “I bet you could do a better job than both detectives, combined.”
“Ms. Penny is sick today,” Mia announces. “Daddy said I could spend the day with Cato.”
“Wait.” Cato stops tossing his ball and shoves up on the couch. “What?”
“Please?” Smiling, Fletch presses his hands together in prayer. “The nanny’s down for the count, Cato. I have to work. And Jada’s…” He frowns and spares a glance for his little girl. “She’s busy.”
Busy being a fuckin deadbeat.
But of course, I don’t say so out loud.
“I’m not your babysitter,” Cato grumbles. “I’m still a kid myself.”
“Oh please.” Minka presses a kiss to Mia’s cheek before pushing up to stand and taking her briefcase once more. “Wants to be treated like an adult when it suits him. Claims infancy when he doesn’t want to be responsible for something other than his own personal pleasure. You’re gonna have so much fun with Uncle Cato today, Moo!” She gently steps out of the girl’s grip and makes her way to the apartment door. “Make sure he behaves himself today, baby girl. We know it’s actually you taking care of him.”
“Ha,” Cato huffs. “Can I take her to the stadium?” he asks Fletch. “I’ll throw the ball for a bit. Run some drills. Get my hours in and make sure Whittaker notices me.”
