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“As soon as I possibly can,” I promise. “The very fucking second I’m able to, I’m getting on a plane and coming back to you. When are you making a move on Fentone?”
“Hmm?” Her brows shoot high like I’m the one who isn’t making sense. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb, Mayet. I know all your secrets, and I know you weren’t examining a little girl’s private parts today without plotting how to make a man pay the price. We made promises, right? You and me. I don’t have to like it, but I do have to keep them. So when are you making a move on Fentone?”
“Will you hold my purse while I do it?” she taunts. “Hand me a scalpel?”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I have to,” I growl. “Including place you inside Tim’s bar, right beside my fucking partner, so your alibi is watertight and unbreakable. Then I’ll take care of Fentone on my own. Move the heat off you. I have no connection to him, and Fletch knows my thoughts on the vigilante shit, so there’s no way any of it will blow back our way. Trash will have been taken out, and I’ll know you’re safe.”
“So, when you say you’ll support my,” she peeks to her right, perhaps to people walking by who she’d rather not understand her words, “endeavors, what you actually mean is you’ll become my hitman, and I’m to stay at home like an obedient little housewife?”
“If that’s what it takes,” I answer. “You bring me irrefutable proof, I’ll remove the scum from the streets, you don’t get hurt, and I don’t go into fucking heart failure worrying about you. Problem solved.”
“And you protect me,” she sighs. “You step in and become my guard. You put yourself in danger, knowing I’ll be pissed about it when I find out?”
“We got married.” Shrugging, even while I lie down, I open my eyes wide and study her beautiful face. “I made a promise to always put your needs above my own. I made a vow to protect you above all else. That’s all there is to it.”
Tilting her head to the side, she drags her bottom lip between her teeth and watches my tired eyes slowly close again. “I love you, Archer. With my whole heart.”
“And I love you,” I respond sleepily. “More than I love anyone else on the planet.”
“You should try to sleep.” Her voice grows a little softer. Gentler. “Go inside the house, climb into bed, and prop your phone up so I can talk till you nod off.”
“Will you sing me a lullaby? Or show me your boobs.”
She smiles. “No. But I’ll stay with you till you’re out. Then I’m going toourapartment to feedourcat, where I’ll order takeout and sit onourcouch and read Laramie Fentone’s files. I’ll take notes and gather the irrefutable proofweneed. Then I’ll let you know my plans and when I intend to make a move.”
“Not in the next twenty-four hours?” Adrenaline helps me open my eyes again for just a moment. I’m running low, but I’ll always have enough for her. I’ll always be here to protect her. “You promise, no move for the next twenty-four hours?”
“I promise. I’m still hopeful Detective Franklin can tie up his case and put the guy away the proper way.Myway is just the backup plan.” Then frowning, she asks, “Why twenty-four hours? What’s happening during that time for you?”
Yawning, I bring my hand up and cover my mouth so she doesn’t have to see all the way down into my stomach. “The guys and I have a thing tomorrow night that’ll hopefully fix our issues. We’ll get Micah back, my father will shit himself to death, then I’ll come home. You give me a night to catch up on sex and sleep; after that, we can discuss Fentone.”
Her soft laugh plays on the wind as I close my eyes.
“You can’t catch up on sexandsleep in one night, Archer. It’s too much demand, and not enough time.”
A sly grin stretches my lips to the side. “I’ll sleep. You just sit on me and do the work for us both.”
“Mm, yes.” Her tone turns dry. “Every woman’s wet dream. Doing all the work.”
A spike of energy pulses through my veins as I choke out a laugh. “Just that one night. Then I’ll be back and swinging.”
“Go to sleep, Archer. I’ll catch up with you when you’re not comatose and slurring your words.”
“Mmm.” Already drifting, despite knowing I’ll regret it later when I wake with a sore back, I smack my lips and doze. “I love you, Mayet. Always.”
“I love you too. Goodnight.”
MINKA
“Hi, Detective Franklin.” I sit on my couch with the television on mute and a steaming mug of coffee on the small table a foot away. My laptop sits on my crossed legs, and my phone is tucked between my shoulder and my ear. “Doctor Mayet here. Medical examiner.”
“Chief.” His voice is thick and gruff. “Hey, I’ve been waiting for your call. Have you got anything for me?”
“I do.”
My email burns with the news we’ve been waiting for. The official tox results sent from my techs down on the seventh floor of the George Stanley building.
