Chapter 18
HARLOW
The next thing I knew, I woke up alone, the sheets in disarray.
I pushed them off me and out of the room, into the near silence of the apartment.
Boner sat at the table, looking through his phone. Archer was in the kitchen cooking what looked like bacon and eggs. Artisan bread was already sliced, waiting to be popped into the toaster. The coffee machine was gurgling away.
There was no sign of Cass or Jules yet.
"Morning," Archer said. "Research has shown breakfast improves cognitive function, so I thought I'd make us all some."
"Never been much of a breakfast eater myself," Boner remarked.
Archer glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow as if that explained a lot.
"That looks delicious," I said.
I'd always been a big believer in starting the day off right. What could be better than coffee and a hot meal? Okay, a few orgasms, but I was still a little sore from last night. Sore, but with no regrets.
I sat opposite Boner, my own phone in my hand to check my emails.
"I'm not used to having people cook for me," I remarked. "I like it." Before either of them could insist on taking over forever, I added, "Don't get used to it. I'm a control freak in the kitchen."
"Your food is more nutritionally rich and a better balance of flavor," Archer said. "If you want to take over my kitchen, you're welcome to. But let me do this first." He offered me a faint up tilt of the sides of his mouth and went back to turning the bacon.
"I forgot how badly you snore," Jules said as he and Cass stepped out of the room they shared.
"That was you," Cass said as he stepped over to brush a kiss against my lips. His hair tumbling over his face tickled my nose.
"How could I hear myself snoring when I was asleep?" Jules stalked over to the fridge, pulled out some orange juice and poured himself a glass.
"Everyone has their own unique talents," Cass told him. "Apparently that's yours."
Glass to his lips, Jules flipped him off.
"Was that what the sound was?" Boner asked. "I thought Archer had a train near his apartment."
Jules turned his finger toward Boner. "Everyone's a fucking comedian."
"I'm not," Archer said. "Although, I've written some plays which were subjectively funny. And a few TV episodes." He cocked his head in thought. "I suppose I could be a comedian."
"Of course you could," Boner told him. "You have that whole," he moved his finger around in the air as though drawing a circle around Archer's face, "deadpan thing going on.
You and I could have an act. You could be the straight guy.
Comically speaking. I can see it now. Boner and Hardboldt, live on stage. "
"Hardwick," Archer corrected. "I get stage fright. Many people do. The idea of speaking or performing in front of people is anxiety inducing."
Boner sighed dramatically. "Bummer. I was looking forward to my comedic debut. What about you, Jules? I bet we'd put on a hell of a show. We could call it the Joker and the Prick. No prizes for guessing which one you'd be."
"Whatever you say, London," Jules said darkly. "No one would come and see us anyway."
"Of course they would," Boner said. "We'd be sold out, night after night. We could get famous."
"I don't want to be famous." Jules finished his orange juice and placed the glass aside. "Too many famous people turn into assholes."
A couple of days ago I would have suggested he was already there, but his inflection and the shift in our relationship stopped the words before they came out. The mention of famous assholes reminded me of my sister and why we were all here.
Jules looked around at all of us, suspicion in his eyes, because no one made any disparaging remarks, for once. Not me, not Cass and not even Boner. His words brought the mood right down.
"I think you might be a terrible comedian after all," Boner said softly.
Jules shrugged and stepped out of Archer's way when he moved over to place bread in the toaster. "Can't say I didn't say so."
Cass stepped over to give him an awkward hug. "I know this sucks.”
Jules shrugged and stepped away. “It is what it is. We poked the hornet’s nest. This is what we get.” Again, he glanced at me, but with only a hint of accusation this time.
"I think we might be the hornets in this scenario," I said. "They bit all of us. They're going to feel our sting."
"Can you be talking literally?" Boner asked. "I'd pay good money to see them stung over and over again. Hornets, wasps, bees, mosquitoes." After a moment he added, "Ants."
"We could make that happen," Archer said. "I have a friend with a honey farm. He has lots of bees." He pulled out plates from the cabinet above his head and started to place food on them, careful to keep everything separate.
"I could fall in love with you too," Boner told him. "Bacon, eggs and bees. What a guy."
His expression unreadable, Archer handed him a plate and a cup of coffee. Then handed one to me.
Fork in one hand, I ate as I went through my emails, deleting the spam and saving the rest for later.
"This is really good," I said after a few bites. "I might rethink taking over your kitchen."
I wouldn't, but he made a mean scrambled eggs and bacon breakfast. Even Jules seemed to be enjoying it. And Boner, in spite of saying he didn't eat breakfast. He dug into it as enthusiastically as the rest of us.
"This is one of the few things I can cook," Archer said, sitting beside me with his own plate. "If you tasted my risotto, you'd never let me cook again."
I snorted softly, not sure if he was joking or not. Risotto could be difficult to perfect if you didn't know how.
"Since I won't be working for the next while, I might as well be useful in the kitchen here," I said.
Who knew how long I'd have to keep the restaurant closed? The idea hurt my heart, but I had no choice. Keeping it open risked not only myself but staff and customers too. It was only through luck, none of them saw Erin's body. If they did, they'd never return.
I wouldn't blame them. Seeing a scene that looked like something out of a horror movie? That would put anyone off eating there. I wouldn't be surprised if the guys didn't want to eat there either.
My gaze slid to Cass, who stood in the kitchen, eating while waiting for his milkshake maker to make his drink. He’d brought the machine with him from his apartment. Because of course he had.
If he hadn't, I would have bought him one. We couldn't have him going without them, could we now?
He must have felt me watching, because he looked over and gave me a smile before shoving his glasses back up his nose and brushing his hair off his forehead.
I didn't mean to make him self-conscious, but he was freaking adorable. And freaking hot. It had never occurred to me to fuck anyone in my torture box before.
Actually doing it was one of the hottest things I'd ever done. Having him deep inside me in a place where so many bad people had died slowly…
I felt like I could breathe in a way I hadn't in a long time. Like somehow it was a victory for both of us. They were dead, but we were very much alive.
I gave him a smile back, relieved he'd forgiven me, first for flipping him onto the sidewalk, then feeding him person. We hadn't known each other for long, but I couldn't imagine my life without him now. Without any of them. Even Jules, although I surprised myself with that little revelation.
I glanced over to where he sat, eating as though the food insulted him in some way.
He'd stab the fork into his bacon, slice back and forth across it with a knife and stuff it into his mouth.
With a scowl on his face, he'd chew hard and swallow before starting over again.
It was almost primal, even for something as benign as bacon and eggs.
Like his brother, he must have sensed my eyes on him. He flicked his over to mine, his brow creasing. His gaze lingered on my face before dropping back to his plate.
Shrugging to myself, I started on my eggs, then washed my toast down with coffee.
The whole scene was comfortingly domestic. All of us in the kitchen enjoying a meal.
Well, some of us enjoying it. Others trying to murder it. Was Jules trying to get in some practice, since he was new to it? By the looks of it, he was going to do fine when push came to shove. He could pretend they're bacon.
Speaking of people who would be bacon when I caught up with them, I opened the video Cass sent me and watched the footage of Erin's killer entering the restaurant.
He wasn't much taller than her. Something about him seemed familiar, but nothing that would hold up in a court of law. Nothing that would make me shout out 'a-ha.'
"Anything?" Cass set his milkshake down and sat beside me.
I shook my head.
"Have you ever felt like something was caught on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't figure out what?" I asked, addressing the question to all of them. "I feel like I should know exactly who that is, but I don't."
"How can you when you can't see their face?" Cass asked. "They could be someone I know too, but I can't place them." He squinted at the screen before consoling himself with a mouthful of milkshake.
"You'd have to get out and meet people before they can be someone you know," Jules said.
"I get out and meet people," Cass argued. "I wouldn't be here otherwise." He jerked his head across the span of the table, indicating all of us.
Boner snorted at the retort, but didn't point out that Cass had Jules there. It was implied eloquently enough.
Jules smirked at both of them.
I grimaced, but focused on the phone in my hand, replaying the footage over and over, hoping at some point, something in my brain would click.
I was usually more observant than this. Being sloppy got people like me killed. Okay, I was being hard on myself. Imagining I could identify someone from grainy CCTV footage.
"You should stop for a while," Cass said, breaking through my thoughts.
How long was I sitting there watching that footage? Long enough that he'd finished his milkshake. Long enough that my eyes were starting to hurt.
I turned off the phone and put it down.
"I'm missing something," I said softly.
I was still struggling to get my head around the idea Erin betrayed me. I thought we took care of each other. She was more than my employee, she was my friend. Or so I thought.
If I'd missed that, what else had I missed?
I had to figure it out before it got us all killed.
We all startled when an unfamiliar ring tone sounded out through the kitchen area.
"That's Fairfield's phone," Cass whispered.
"Who the hell would be calling that prick?" Boner asked.
Cass shook his head, slid the phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of us.