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“Guess it’s her superpower.” He stuns me out of my reverie, my eyes snapping open, when his hand slams down on my thigh in a loud, crackingslap. “Swallow it down, Arch. Harden up before we get there, or she might dump you for the kid.”
“I’m unavailable,” Cato gloats, “seeing as how Ms. Anderson is who I’ll be thinking of as soon as I get home and have a minute alone.” He smirks in the rearview mirror and replaces my nausea with cold, hard rage as he adds, “But the idea of having Jenna and Minka at the same time…” He clicks his tongue and studies his nails like he’s not worried about me murdering him in his sleep. “I’m man enough to give it a shot.”
MINKA
Autopsy Room One is situated right beside my office, and with the glass walls all over our building, I get to oversee Aubree’s work, while also having a view of the elevator as it stops on our level.
The lights above and the flashing number nine draw my attention away as Aubree extracts Anna Switzer’s brain and places it in a stainless-steel bowl for weighing.
Laughter bubbles in my chest, because while she and I work in relative silence, I know Archer’s weak stomach will change all that.
Mafia son. Killer. Exacter of revenge. A man who has no qualms killing another to protect those he loves.
But it’s become apparent he can’t handle a simple autopsy.
Odd, seeing as how my work is just the other side of the homicide detective’s coin.
“Laughing is gonna make his mood all better,” Aubree faux-chastises. But she straightens out when a third male steps out of the elevator, his eyes wide and his head swiveling on his neck as he takes in everything that is a medical examiner’s office.
Fletch and Archer walk this way, sure in their path—despite the slight green tinge to Archer’s skin—but Cato follows a dozen steps behind. His long legs, clumsy and giraffe-like, nearly stumble as he peers in every direction at once.
“This is gonna be interesting,” I mutter.
I step away from the examination table and peel my gloves off. The fact they have a little cerebrospinal fluid on them means it’s best I get rid of them before Archer steps into this room. Taking my protective glasses off next and placing them on the counter lining the wall, I reach back with one hand and tug the loop that holds my apron shut.
The way I do my work can’t be a hell of a lot different from how a butcher divides an animal carcass. As far as clothing and protective materials go, anyway.
I stop by the glass door and open it far enough to speak, but not so far that the overly eager Cato can stride through. “Detectives? Besides calling me, shouting at me, and then hanging up, is there anything I can help you with?”
“Arch is sorry about that, Delicious.” Fletch comes to a stop outside the autopsy room and digs his hands into his pockets. “You caught him by surprise, is all. Even I heard the saw, and I wasn’t the one with the phone pressed to my ear.”
“Hazards of marrying an M.E.” I glance over at Cato, but pull my attention back to Archer. “Bring Your Kid Brother to Work Day today?”
“More likestop him from making poor choices by keeping him under constant supervisionday,” he responds. His attention jumps to Anna’s body laid out behind me, but he gets himself under control and meets my eyes. “There a reason you’re playing with her brain?”
“Yes. I’m searching for neurological defects, and have a hunch we might find trauma stamped all over her brain.”
Behind me, the sound of compressed air releasing triggers a hiss from Aubree.
“Sorry!” She almost drops the brain bowl, righting it in her gloved hands and expelling a nervous giggle. “Anna’s body released a little air. Caught me by surprise.”
“Releasedair?” Cato plasters his face against the glass wall and creates a fog cloud from breathing too hard. “She farted?” He shoots an excited look my way. “Did she fart, Minka?”
“Whatever she did,” I step across the threshold to allow the door to close at my back, then I grab Cato’s shoulder and shove him backward, “she deserves privacy and respect. You have no right to be in here.” I look to Archer. “What do you need?”
“Your office.” He turns, expecting me to follow, but he grabs Cato’s sleeve on the way. “Fletch, you wanna talk to Aubs and get caught up?”
“Sure thing.” He steps around me and swings the door wide without hesitation. “What happened after Tim took you home last night, Aubs? You guys banging yet?”
“No,” she growls, continuing her work, “and none of your business.”
I stride away from the autopsy room and start toward my office, but when Doctor James Kirk—not of theStar Trekuniverse—wanders past with Xavier, our new lab tech, I come to a stop again and speak to the pair first.
“Check your vic for hemophilia,” I murmur just loud enough for them. “Coagulation and deep-tissue bruising are consistent with type A.” Then I gesture toward Cato. “Take him with you.”
Cato’s eyes jump wide. “What?”
“He’s not to touch anything.” I continue firmly. “Don’t let him mess anything up. Don’t let him break anything.”
