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It’s dinnertime back in Copeland, which makes it a hell of a lot later here. Surely she’s home by now, starving and in need of water to combat the caffeine she would have chugged all day long. She and Chloe are probably at war, staring each other down and fighting over whatever takeout has been ordered and delivered. And the medication in our fridge is almost certainly untouched, because Minka never prioritizes her health.
She must’ve found my note on the counter, and yet… she hasn’t called.
“Archer?” Smacking my knee with the back of his hand, Felix scowls when I glance up with a sneer. “Did you hear me?”
“What?” Adrenaline pulses in my blood. Anger. And a ravenous hunger for retribution. I adjust my foot and prepare to slam it to the middle of his face if he hits me again. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Dad! He’s at the house.” He sits back with a huff. “You asked, then you act like I fucked your wife when I answer.”
“Don’t.” Tim presses his palm to my shoulder and anchors me against my seat when I want to surge forward.
My fists are balled. My brain exploding with rage I can’t get a handle on. But his hand is hard, and his hold is unrelenting.
He looks to Felix. “Don’t talk about her again.”
“About Doctor Beautiful?” he sniggers. “She walks in public, bro. Mentioning her falls under fair use, no?”
“It’s not a fucking game,” he bites out. “She’s not for you to discuss. She’s not a tool you get to use to piss Arch off.” He releases my shoulder and points a finger toward our brother. “She’s off-limits. In fact, anything that isn’t about this fucking mess you’ve asked us to help with is off-limits.”
“So, no Copeland?” he taunts. “No cops. No Aubree Emeri?”
“We’re done.” I meet the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Stop the car. Now.”
“Yes, Boss.”
It’s been a lifetime since I was last here, so I don’t know this driver, his name, or where the hell he came from. But he knows me. And he sure as fuck knows Tim.
Indicating to pull off, he starts his merge and slows the car.
“Keep going.” Felix only rolls his eyes, likewedisappointedhim. “Don’t stop the fucking car.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Dad’s at the house,” he repeats on a tired exhale. “He hasn’t left in a long fuckin’ time. He keeps Gomez and Edwards on the door around the clock.”
“Worried Pastore will walk straight in and finish it?” I ask. “Is the house not secure?”
“It’s secure. The old man is just…vulnerablenow. So he takes extra precautions.”
“How long’s he got left?” Tim grumbles. “Months? Years?”
“Weeks, probably.” Pushing back in his seat, Felix lifts an ankle to the opposite knee and looks down at his nails. Good old Malone men: avoidance experts when emotional shit comes up. “He’s going downhill really fuckin’ quick, which is why Micah thought to talk to Pastore.”
“Hewentto them?” I demand. “Willingly?”
“Peace talks,” he explains. “He thought it would help.”
“Yeah, because that sounds really fucking commanding.We’re vulnerable right now. Please don’t hurt us.”
“Which clearly worked,” Tim sneers. “He made the family look weak, Felix, and now Pastore’s taken one of our legs. How long’s he been gone?”
“Four days, apparently.”
“Apparently? You don’t know?”
“I was in Copeland!” he barks out, his too-long hair flitting to his forehead. “I’m working with intel from Cato—who, by the way, is still trying to get his fucking GED. So how about you cut me a little slack and get on the team for a minute? I went to you weeks ago.Weeks! The situation was less dire back then. Had you come home like I asked, Micah would still be there. But no, you dragged your fucking feet. You made out likeI’mthe enemy, and now that your procrastination has led to us losing a leg, you still somehow pin that shit on me.”
“Five minutes out,” the driver speaks in monotone.
