12. Archer
Chapter 12
Archer
T wo days have passed since I washed London's hair, and I can't get the entire experience out of my head. It's fucking frustrating. The image of her bruised body is burned into my memory and despite only knowing her for a week, I feel strangely protective of her.
I mean, that's a given, considering Silver's main objective was to find someone to keep her safe.
Where was his plan when someone beat the shit out of her? Why couldn't he have watched out for her then? Why did things have to get as bad as they did for Silver to finally step in and say enough was enough?
I try to rid myself of the nagging thoughts and questions, but they bubble up and disrupt everything—my sleep, my work, my every waking thought.
The buzzer to my apartment goes off, abruptly bringing me back to reality. My gaze flits to the bedroom, where London is with the door shut, and then to the front. I rush over and press the button.
"Who is it?" I ask.
"Uh, delivery for Archer S?—"
I cut him off before he can continue. "Come on up."
It takes the guy far longer than it should to reach my door and once he does, I see why. His nose is practically buried in his phone. He shoots me an apologetic glance when he approaches. "Sorry, my girl's mad at me. I'm sure you understand."He holds the small box out to me. "I need a signature."
I ignore him, scribble on the pad, and take the box from him, shutting the door on hima secondlater.
Once inside, I go straight to my desk and open the box, revealing the phone Iordered for London. With the bedroom door still closed, I quickly adhere one of the smallest trackers I have in my stash to the back of her phone, holding it up and wondering if she's going to notice it doesn't belong.
She's a smart woman, but I don't think she's quite that observant.
I swipe at the screen, turning it on and going through the automated prompts, plugging in a brand-new email when it's asked for, and shutting off the unnecessary location services.
London comes out of the room and goes to the kitchen, pouring herself half a glass of water and chugging it down. She leaves the glass there, on the counter, and I can't help but wonder if she does it on purpose to drive me insane.
Spoiler alert, it does.
She approaches, and it's then that I take her in—a pair of dark jeans and a fitted white top, the heels she bought herself on the one foot that doesn't have a cast on it.
"You're not seriously wearing that, are you?" I ask her.
London snatches the black bag I had bought her off the table and does her best to walk without limping. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"You're wearing heels…and a cast."
"And?" She pauses and points at the phone in my hand. "Is that my phone?" London snatches it out of my grasp without letting me answer. She looks it over and swipes her finger across the screen. "Cool, thanks, what's my number?"
I join her next to the couch, towering over her shoulder. "Click settings, then phone. That'll show your number. But you need to be careful who you give it to, you can't just?—"
London pivots her body and places her hand on my shoulder. "Simmer down, big boy."
I glare at her. "Wait, where are you going?"
"Out." She opens her purse and plops the phone inside.
"What do you mean out ?"
"It's Sunday, Archer. I've been out of your apartment once this entire week. I'm going out."
"It's Sunday?" The recollection of my conversation with Ivy hits me like a ton of bricks.
"Are you okay? You look like you're having an aneurysm." London squints her eyes at me and pokes at my cheek.
I gently swat her away. "I'm fine. That's fine. Have fun."
"That's it? No protesting? No lecture? You're going to let me go?"
"Mmhm," I mumble and take a peek at my watch, flinching at it being half past noon. I'm already thirty minutes late and I haven't even gotten ready yet. Ivy made it clear that she was sick of my shit, and here I am letting her down once again.
"Okay," London says, a hint of surprise in her voice that isn't lost on me. I don't have the time to do any of the things she mentioned. She's made it this far in life, I must assume that she'll heed my warnings and not be a complete idiot when she leaves my place.
"Don't leave town, please," I instruct her, the words slipping out too hurriedly. "Stay within a four-block radius."
"Are you going to tell me not to talk to strangers, too? Maybe not to get into strange white vans?"
My rushed nature halts and my entire body goes tense. "London," I say through gritted teeth.
"It was a joke, big boy." London pats my shoulder again, but it does nothing to ease the worry. Only, the wrath of Ivy comes creeping back in.
"I put my number in your phone," I say. "Call me if you need me." I open the front door and shut it a split second later. "Oh wait, hang on." I rush over to grab the spare key I had made for her off the stand. "Here's this." I hold it out to her, a sort of electric energy pulsing between us I don't have time to decipher. Perhaps it's my anxiety getting the best of me and nothing is there at all.
"You're being weirder than usual." London takes the key from me and slides it into her purse. "Are you on drugs?"
"I'm not on drugs."
"Maybe you should be."
I ignore her remark. "The access code is 2220."
"So original."
"I didn't make it," I tell her.
"I would hope not." London nervously motions to her body. "How do I look?"
I let my gaze wander, regretting it the second my heart skips a beat. "You look fine," I respond, my tone even.
"You sure have a way with words." London reaches for the door handle, and I reach for her, pausing her from going any farther.
"Be careful, please?"
"I will," she tells me, a sense of honesty lingering. "I'll be back in a few hours."
"Okay. Make sure you use that card. Get whatever you want."
"Whatever I want? Okay, maybe you do have a way with words." She slips out the front door, a piece of me going with her. I fucking hate how she's crawled under my skin in the week that she's been here.
Once she's gone, I rush to the bathroom, turning the temperature to a reasonable degree, and take the quickest shower I ever have, drying off so quickly that I almost forget to hang my towel up. I'm throwing my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and trying to button my jeans when a voice calls out from my front room.
My chest tightens. Why would London be back already? Maybe she forgot something. Maybe she changed her mind. Either way, if I can't get rid of her soon, I'm going to have to explain…
"Arch, honey, we need to talk," Ivy murmurs from her spot standing at my bedroom door.
I rush toward her, grabbing her shoulders and guiding her out of the room that has London's stuff all over it. "Hey, let's chat out here."
Ivy throws her arms up. "You might be older than me, taller than me, but you know I'm prepared to kick your ass, right?" She shrugs me off and places her handbag on the counter, opening it to pull out acompact. She powders her nose and snaps it shut, dropping it into the bag. "How many times are you going to stand me up before I do something about it? This is getting old. I'm done making excuses for you." She tilts her wrist toward her. "Noon. Once a month. That's all I hold you to. Everything else, sure, make excuses for…but for Christ's sake. I'm not asking for too much. One Sunday. Your brothers get it, why can't you?"
I shove one of London's shirts under a couch cushion and attempt to tidy up while Ivy isn't paying attention.
Ivy is pretty small, probably shorter than London, but she grew up around four of the most ruthless men in this town and is trained to kill in various forms. I do have the advantage of being taller and stronger than her, and I'd never lay a finger on Ivy, but I'm not sure if I could hold her off. She's like a ticking time bomb. Soft and sweet on the outside, dying to murder someone on the inside. She gets it honest, though, her twin brother, Seven, being a homicidal maniac.
I've killed people, but for necessity. Seven does it for fun.
"Are you even listening to me?" Ivy turns around, her heels clicking against the floor in my kitchen. "Archer. What are you doing?"
I stop dead in my tracks, my heart pounding out of my chest. I hate lying to Ivy. I hate making her upset. And yet here it is, the only thing I can manage to do.
"I'm just straightening up," I tell her.
Her dark brow arches and she takes a full scan of the room. "What's going on here?"
"What do you mean?" I swallow harshly.
"Your place. It's a wreck. And…" She sniffs, then sniffs again. "Have you been using that body wash I left here?"
"I, uh, I can explain." But no words follow and I wish like hell I could come up with some reasonable explanation for why it looks like a tornado came through my apartment.
Luckily, the front door flies open and saves me from having to say anything.
"There's my least favorite brother," Leo says as he marches in, his arms extended as he pulls me in for an aggressive hug. He slaps my back hard. "Can't believe you stood us up, Arch. What the hell?"
I hug him back, my apartment feeling smaller and smaller as Seven and August come in, too.
August thumbs something on his phone and shoves the thing into his pocket. "Sorry, dealing with a crisis."
"Oh, what's new?" Ivy says, rolling her eyes.
August shoots daggers at her before turning his attention to me. "Brother. Are you well?"
"Why do you talk like you're fifty-five?" I ask him, the comment suddenly sounding like something London would have said.
London , shit, I need to check on her.
I rush over to my computer, type a few things, and sync her tracker to my phone, the loading screen taking far too fucking long.
"What are you doing, Arch?" Ivy starts toward me but stops when Seven dramatically drops a couple of brown bags onto the counter. "Geez, Sev, what crawled up your ass?"
Seven goes to my fridge and opens it wide. "What's to drink?" He scans the contents and slams the doors shut, the whole fridge rattling. He shifts his focus to the cabinet off to the left, taking a full bottle of tequila out and popping the top off it. After taking a giant swig, he wipes at his mouth and holds out the bottle. "Oh, did you want some?"
"I'm good," I tell him and make my way toward the kitchen, hoping everyone else will, too, instead of noticing how my apartment is nothing like how I usually keep it.
"I only have an hour," August announces.
"Guys." Ivy raises her voice. "Everyone. Sit down, now." She takes the bags and drops them onto the table in my dining room. "I said now."
Seven mumbles something but lowers himself onto a chair, leaning and throwing his tattooed arm over the back of the chair. "Pull that stick out of your ass, baby sis."
Ivy slams her fist onto the table. "You are two minutes, two fucking minutes, older than me." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I don't care who you are, what you've done, who you've killed. I am going to stab each and every one of you if you don't sit down, right now."
I walk over and grab a stack of plates, returning to the table a second later and setting them next to the brown bags. Without saying a word, I sit on one of the chairs and wait for the lecture I'm about to get to begin.
Leo and August follow, August unbuttoning his suit jacket and folding it over his chair first.
"Great, glad we could all get on the same page about something for once." Ivy pulls out several Chinese takeout boxes and slides each one of us a plate. She sits on a chair and waves her arms. "Eat."
Each of us grabs a box, pops it open, and shuffles them around the table to who likes what. I pass her the carton of noodles and say, "I'm sorry, Ivy. I'm an asshole."
She looks at me, her eyes glistening. "You are an asshole."
"Glad we agree on something." Leo smacks me on the back again and digs into an egg roll.
Ivy gasps. "Seven. Is that blood on your arm?"
"Oh shit." Seven laughs. "My bad." He flicks at it like it's going to make the dried mess disappear.
I point to the bathroom. "Go wash up. You know better than that."
"It's not my fault he was a gusher." Seven huffs but stands, goes to the bathroom, and washes the rest of his crime down the drain.
"Who did you kill?" Ivy asks him when he returns.
"Uh, I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? How can you kill someone and not know who it is?"
Seven shrugs. "No, really, I don't remember his name. Gary something, maybe."
August clears his throat. "Greg Walters."
"That's right." Seven snaps his fingers and points to August. "That's who it was."
"You're a sociopath, you know that, right?" Ivy shoves a forkful of noodles into her mouth.
"Probably." Seven eats some of his spicy chicken and I'm just glad the focus is on someone else for a change, and not me.
"What's a sociopath?" Leo asks as he gets up from the table and makes his way to the kitchen.
Ivy clears her throat like she was ready for this question, this moment. "A sociopath is someone who shows no regard for right or wrong and ignores the feelings of others."
"Uh, Ivy, babe, if that's the case, I'm pretty sure we're all sociopaths." Leo returns a moment later with a soda in his grasp.
Ivy waves her finger in the air. "No, sociopaths cannot feel empathy and remorse. You might blur the lines of right and wrong, but you have feelings. Seven doesn't."
Seven clutches his chest dramatically. "I'm right here, baby sis." He laughs sharply and continues, "Ah, who am I kidding, I don't give a fuck."
"Case in point," Ivy says. "I mean, he's a psychopath, too. True Gemini nature. This is where you charm people, manipulate and use them to your advantage."
August and I sit there, quietly eating our food, and exchange a glance.
I reach for my phone, doing a quick look at the tracker and noting London's whereabouts. She's at the coffee shop she met Grace in, and has been for quite some time. If I were alone I'd pull up the surveillance feed and see exactly what she's doing, but my nosey family would want to know what I'm doing and who I'm watching.
"And what am I?" Leo asks Ivy. "I'm sure you've psychoanalyzed all of us."
"I have." Ivy grins like the Cheshire cat. She wipes at her mouth before answering him. "So, I'd say you have textbook narcissistic tendencies."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Where do I start? Hm, well, you are super competitive, materialistic, arrogant, jealous, hypersensitive to criticism, you avoid responsibility like the plague, you're insecure?—"
Leo puts his hand in the air. "I think we get the point, Ivy." He shakes his head and mumbles under his breath. "I'm not any of that stuff."
Seven scratches his chin. "I think I have that, too."
"Is that a new tattoo?" I ask him, a design consisting of a bunch of dark angled lines that don't really make any one specific thing covering his throat.
He tilts his head, exposing the flaky area. "Yeah, itches like hell."
"You're snowing all over the dining room table, Seven. Go put some lotion on that thing," I tell him.
"Carmen was asking about you," Seven says. "Said it's been a while since she's seen you."
"I ran out of ideas." For a while, I did nothing but get tattooed, scheduling an appointment every few days, covering section after section of my body, hoping the pain would do something to ease the empty pit in my chest, but it never worked. And once I finished my arms and the front and back of my torso, I decided to take a break.
"Let's talk about what's wrong with August," Leo blurts out.
Ivy shifts her gaze to August, something concealed I can't quite make out being spoken between them. "Same as Archer. Control issues. Although Archer is a germaphobe and August is a workaholic with an unhealthy dose of perfectionism."
"You get one degree in psychology and think you're—" August blurts out, his tone no doubt surprising all of us.
I slide my phone back out, ignoring the argument between August and Ivy, rest it on my thigh, and watch the tracker dot of London stay in the same spot. My chest tightens at the thought of her having found the tracker and removing it. I frantically push a few buttons and locate the Find My iPhone feature, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing it in the same spot, too. Maybe she has no idea I put it on there. Maybe she really is just hanging out in the coffee shop. That makes the most sense.
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," Ivy says, pulling me from my own little world.
"Guys, seriously," I speak up. "Can we have one meal without fighting? We're all we have. Can we pretend like we like each other?"
Ivy grips her fists and shakes them loose. "Fine." She pats her dress pants and returns to her seat.
August immediately shifts the conversation like he wasn't just being a giant asshole. "How's business, Arch? Anything I should be aware of?"
Ivy rolls her eyes so aggressively I'm concerned they're going to pop out of her head. "Always business with you," she mutters.
August turns toward her. "Do you have something you'd like the rest of us to hear?"
Seven reaches for the bottle of tequila he brought to the table, takes a long swig of it, and watches things unfold. "I missed this."
"No, August," Ivy says, her tone laced with venom. "By all means, let's talk business."
"Investments are up," I tell him. "Finances are solid. We aren't taking a hit quite as bad as the West Coast sector but considering the fallout, things could be worse for them."
"And security?" August adds.
"Do you doubt my abilities?" I ask.
"Not at all, but I understand you've been under some stress."
"Some stress? Are you serious?" This time it's my turn for my cheeks to get hot with anger at August.
"I didn't mean any offense." August leans back in his chair. "It's perfectly within my nature to question the integrity of things."
The integrity of things , is he fucking serious? I've done nothing but keep our family affairs in order, how dare he question anything I do? He's lucky I'm still involved, let alone contributing in the manner I do. A thankless fucking job, that's what this is.
Seven slams the tequila bottle on the table, drawing all our attention toward him. "How come no one asks me about business?" He belches and follows it up with a hiccup.
"Because all you do is kill people," Ivy chimes in. "Tell me, what have you done this week other than kill people?"
"I, uh…" Seven trails off and gets lost in his recollection. "Wait, I broke that guy's kneecaps on Tuesday. That counts, right?"
"Sure." Ivy gives Seven a soft, yet condescending, smile.
I'm taking in the curve of her cheeks, noticing how it doesn't quite meet the eyes when my entire life flashes before my eyes as the door to my apartment opens.
Seven reaches for his waistband gun, Leo doing the same, as Ivy slides the small dagger she keeps in her ankle holster out.
I hear her voice before I see her, and do nothing but fucking panic. "Put your weapons down," I whisper-shout to my family.
They comply partially, holding them behind their backs as London steps into the apartment, her friend Grace, who I haven't officially met yet, on her heels.
Fuck, fuck, fuck .
London starts, "Oh shit, I didn't know you had company."
"Company?" Ivy calls out to me over her shoulder. "Who the fuck is this?"
I rush around the table and make a face that hopefully says Please put the fucking weapons away to my family. "Uh, this is…" Come on, Archer, think of something, anything. Perhaps something clever or elaborate to explain why two random women are standing at the entrance of your apartment.
"I'm London," London says, marching straight up to the table and leaving Grace behind. She extends her hand, and for a long moment, I forget that she has a cast on her leg. How she's managing to walk so well in one heel, I'll never understand.
Ivy stares at London, at her hand, and with such poise, flips the dagger into her left arm and conceals it while shaking London's hand with her right. "I'm Ivy. Pleasure."
The two of them size each other up and I'm not certain my heart has ever beat harder than it has at this very moment.
I step forward, my mouth opening. "London is staying with me for a little while."
Ivy whips her head toward me. "I'm sorry, what?"
Seven glides the tequila bottle across the table, his sights locking on Grace, who remains quiet. "And what do we have here…" He saunters over to her, licking his lips and looking at her from head to toe. "Damn, baby girl. Are you an angel because…"
Grace holds her finger out toward him. "Immediately no."
Ivy chuckles, Grace's comment breaking the thick tension between her and London. Although, I'm not sure London gets the memo.
Grace keeps her head high as she bypasses Seven's borderline offensive remark and makes her way over to the rest of us. "I'm Grace."
"Right, yeah." I shift to the group. "London, Grace, this is August, Leo, Ivy, and…that’s Seven." I reach out to Grace. "Archer."
Grace shakes my hand, firm and quick, to the point.
"Nice to meet you," Leo tells her.
"Pleasure is all mine," August adds.
Ivy scowls at August like he's done something wrong but I'm not sure what. "So how do you two know each other?" Ivy flits to me and London.
"Oh," London begins. "We're friends of friends. I'm new in town, an extended visit, if you may. Archer was kind enough to let me crash here until I got a place of my own." She walks over, gripping my shoulder between her arms. "Archer's such a nice guy, you know?"
Ivy laughs. "Yeah, sure is." She plants her hand on her hip and I wonder how much sass my apartment can take before it implodes. I've been dealing with a heavy dose of it all week with London, and with Ivy added into the mix, it's a recipe for disaster. "Why didn't you tell us about this, Arch?"
London speaks up without giving me a chance to. "It's my fault, honestly. I've kept him rather preoccupied." She pats my chest. "Haven't I, Arch ?"
I chuckle nervously and consider how quickly Ivy is going to murder London, especially considering London's current condition. Still, she doesn't seem to be backing down despite having a disadvantage. Maybe she's crazier than I gave her credit for.
"As truly entertaining as this all is…" August peels his jacket off the chair and shoves his arms into each sleeve. "I must be going."
"I cleared your schedule today, what could you possibly have going on?" Ivy barks at him.
"Things, dear, things." August straightens his collar. "Brother, it was great seeing you. Let me know if you'd like to continue that conversation." He shoots me a quick look and nods stiffly at Leo. "Brother."
"What about me?" Seven protests, throwing his arms out to the sides, the tequila bottle still in his grasp.
"And you, brother, are an alcoholic." August grasps Seven's shoulder on the way to the door, slipping out without another word.
Leo slips his gun into the back of his pants and tucks his shirt over it slyly. "I should probably get going, too."
"You guys are the worst," Ivy pouts. "Once a month, that's all I ask."
"What's once a month?" London asks her.
Seven leans against the back of my couch, his obvious stare glued to Grace.
Most women fold to Seven's passes, even if they're degrading and a bit repulsive. They're usually drawn to his dark hair, endless tattoos, and mismatched eyes, one green, one blue. He's got a sort of moth to a flame kind of vibe, only people don't realize it until he's chewed them up and spit them out. Seven really is the most psychotic of us all, making each one of us question our loyalty from time to time. He's unhinged, and if it weren't for Ivy keeping him in line, keeping us all in line, our entire empire would crumble.
Grace acts like he's some drunk at a bar, not bothered by him enough to give him a second glance. It's kind of comical, watching him shoot his pathetic shot and getting turned down.
"Dinner," Ivy tells London. "Once a month, all I ask of my brothers is for a family meal."
London stiffens next to me. "Brothers?"
"Yeah, Archer didn't tell you?" Ivy meets my gaze. "You ashamed of us, brother?"