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When I say nothing to answer his question, he reaches across the desk and gently touches my jaw. “Minka? I see a fucking handprint on your cheek. Now I’m asking; what happened to your face?”
“Nothing.” I finish with the computer and log out once more. “What happened to your knuckles?”
“Nothing. I see you, Minka.” He gently pulls me up by the chin. “I didn’t see you properly when you were on the TV, and I didn’t see you properly at the bar last night. But I see you now, and I see the fucking bruise on your cheek.”
He tilts my face to the side. Then to the other. “Someone hit you, baby. And the fact they did sets my blood on fire.”
“Because they touched the toy you want for yourself?”
“No! Because someone hurt you. Don’t you get yet that I need you to be safe? That your well-being is all I fucking care about?”
“Archer—”
“You’re way too pure to have hands laid on you like that.”
“Pure?” I choke out a desperate laugh and step back so his hand falls away. “Are you forgetting already why we broke up?” I step around the desk and wrap my arms across my chest. “The reason we’re not together, Archer, is not about purity. It’s the very opposite, isn’t it? I lay my hands on other people. And that makes it sweet karma, right? I get them, so others get me.”
“All the more fucking reason for you to stop,” he grits out.
Wrapping his hand around my arm, he gently tugs me close so his lips almost touch the shell of my ear. “At what point do I let you walk out the door, Minka, and never have you come back to me?”
“So we’re back to you protecting me?”
“It’salwaysgoing to be about me protecting you,” he growls. “Always! The rest comes second—and that’s from the mouth of a fuckin’ homicide cop.”
Ridiculously, hope springs in my heart, because maybe, justmaybe, there’s a future somewhere out there that includes this homicide cop being okay with what I do.
But I don’t get to respond, because on the other side of the frosted glass door, Aubree and Fletcher’s shadows come closer.
Instead, I look back to Archer and ask, “Have you told him?”
He scoffs. “If I did, I assure you, he’d high-five you for what you did to Dowel. Fletch thinks the vigilante has it right.”
“He…” Stunned, my stomach dips from Archer’s words. “What?”
As the door begins a slow swing open, Arch clamps his lips shut and turns away to pace the large, lobby-like space with his hands on his hips.
“How we doing out here, Maury?” Fletch pokes his head through the gap at the door and flashes a grin almost as conceited and goofy as Fox’s. It’s a silly expression, but the difference, I think, is Fletch seems far less devious. “Do you wanna borrow a taser? ‘Cuz I always wondered if big bad Archer Malone would wet his pants when zapped.”
“Do you have a taser handy?” I spare a glance for Archer, only to find challenge in his glare. And maybe, if I look deep enough, small threads of humor. “I could probably try it once. Ya know, for the experience.”
“Only people in my circle get those privileges.” Archer’s response is hard, unkind and fastened with dismissal, but the twitch in the corner of his lips softens the blow. “You know how to get back in,Minnnka.”
“Aww.” Since the coast is clear and the storm has passed for now, Fletch shoves the door wide open and holds it for Aubree. “You’re outside the circle of trust, Delicious. How does it feel to be related to DeNiro?”
“Bet he’d let me zap him.” Since we’re done down here, procrastinating with useless fake small talk, I break away from the group and tap my fingers to the elevator call button. “Is there a reason you’re here, Detectives?”
“Oh, so we’re back to business-professional.” Fletch swaggers closer and stops so his hip touches mine.
Despite the look of scorn I shoot over my shoulder, he only winks and steps forward the moment the doors ding open. “You were getting cozy with a couple of folks on the TV yesterday, Dimples. Anything you wanna tell me?”
Thoughts of Jen Lawrence and the mildly familiar Corey pass through my mind as I step into the elevator. Fletch steps in on my left, and Arch and Aubree follow to take up the space behind us. “You’re back to acting as Malone’s proxy? Checking in on who I speak to? How fun.”
“I speak for me.” With a playful smile and oceans of enthusiasm, Fletch smacks the button for the ninth floor and runs his tongue along his top teeth while he studies me. “So… you wanna go out sometime?”
“Fletcher!” Arch growls from the back. “When you flirt with her, you flirt with death. Fuck!”
“Hmm. That’s an interesting declaration.” I twist my torso and meet Archer’s icy stare. “To want to kill someone for their crimes. To justify murder in the name of love or justice.”
