Archer
ARCHER
I t’s not often I walk Copeland City streets and feel like someone is watching me. Like eyes burn the back of my neck and follow every step I take.
New York ? Absolutely. That was my entire childhood.
Copeland, even, back when Felix was reestablishing contact between estranged brothers? Yep.
But on a standard workday? Nope.
So why does my stomach dip as I step off the escalator inside the station and approach the doors leading out to the street?
“Detective Malone?” A heavy baritone voice echoes across the tile flooring and brings me up short as I turn, glimpsing two plain-clothes detectives bolting off the escalator. I come to a stop and wait as the duo duck those who wander through. Cops in uniforms, and some without. Everyone who carries a badge, also carries a gun. A mere twenty seconds after hearing my name, the shouting pair skid to a stop just six feet from where I stand. “Sorry, Detective.” The one closest—nearing forty, by my estimate, with dark hair and light eyes—pants and works hard to catch his breath. Could probably do with a gym membership too, if running thirty feet tuckers him out so severely. “Detective Haightman,” he answers the question I’ve yet to ask. Though I have no doubt my eyes speak for me. Then he points to the right. “My partner, Detective Taylor. We work outta Midtown and came over here to speak with you.”
“Yeah?” I set my hands on my hips and look them up and down. Jeans, combat boots, button up shirts, and badges threaded onto their belts. “What did you need to talk about?”
“Wright and Mercer.” Taylor isn’t quite as outgoing as his partner, but he stands tall and swallows the nerves bundled in his throat. “They’re our colleagues, Detective.”
“We heard there was a task force coming together,” Haightman presses. Then he looks me dead in the eyes and hardens. “We want in.”
“You do?” A deep line forms between my brows as I consider the pair. “What makes you think I want you on my squad?”
“They’re our colleagues,” Taylor repeats. “We know them. We know their workload. We would be a valuable addition to your team.”
“Plus,” Haightman adds. “We already ran it by our lieutenant and yours. Yours said it’s cool with him so long as we get your approval.”
“We just wanna help,” Taylor presses. “Lucas and Danny were our friends. If this mess was reversed, we’d let you in on our squad.”
“And you think you can do the job without your emotions getting in the way?” I back up toward the door. I’m done with today and ready to go home to my wife. “You’re not gonna become dead weight on my investigation?”
“We’ll help,” Haightman insists. “We swear.”
“Fine.” I turn and grab the handle. “Be here early tomorrow. I’ll run it by my partner, but having someone on our squad who knew our vics can only be a good thing.” I step out of the multi-story building as the time ticks close to six, only to forget Haightman and Taylor when I essentially walk straight into my oldest brother. He leans against a light pole, one arm folded across his torso, while he uses his other hand to stroke the beard he keeps short and well-maintained.
Instantly, my eyes go left, then right. “Tim?” The Malone heir to the mafia throne that he should have accepted… waits outside the cop shop like doing so is a smart move. I narrow my eyes and continue forward until we’re shoulder to shoulder and moving along the sidewalk toward my apartment.
Always moving. Always watching. Like sharks.
“What are you doing here?”
“Had a crime I needed to confess to.” He glances across and flashes a smirk. “Kidding. I would never confess.”
“So you just happen to be here… waiting outside the police station, at the same time I’m walking out?”
He shrugs, dropping his hand and dipping both into his pockets. He wears jeans that sit loose around thick thighs, and a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. It’s his look three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. “I had time and a need to catch some fresh air. I was walking by and knew you’d be out any moment, so I waited.”
“Mmhm. And it has nothing to do with the current case I’m running? A statement hasn’t been released yet, Timothy. So why do I feel like you know things you shouldn’t?”
He smiles a smile exactly the same as the Timothy who came before him, his beard moving with the action and his eyes glittering with a kindness our father never possessed. “I always know things happening on my street.” He peers over our shoulders and checks our surroundings. “Good to see you’re still breathing.”
“Happy days. Minka called you?”
He grins, bringing his focus back around to watch the way we’re going. “She’s sitting in my bar as we speak. She might’ve mentioned something about wanting to kill you if the cop killer didn’t do it first. Naturally, I enquired as to what the fuck she was talking about.”
“Naturally,” I rumble. “She’s heading to New York tomorrow.”
He drops his smile and lowers his head, surveying the street around us. A survival instinct beaten into us three decades ago. Yet, to anyone watching from the outside, you’d think he was looking at his feet. “I heard about that, too. I haven’t talked to Felix yet. Have you?”
“I haven’t had time.” I draw a deep breath, filling my lungs until my chest expands, then I release it again and scan the sidewalks. Not that I’m expecting a fucker with a long-barreled rifle to step out and introduce himself. But I promised to be careful… “I’ve been meaning to call and let him know we were coming. But now plans have changed. Add in that Minka’s staying in Manhattan, and you know that conversation is gonna be exhausting.”
“And you’re cool with your wife staying at the Malone Mansion without you? After all these years and all that history?”
“I just said she’s not?—”
“It’s one thing if you were with her too, but it wasn’t so long ago that sending her there, with or without you, meant she’d be bedded by a Malone, bred against her will, and murdered as soon as her son was born. You’ve forgotten so easily?”
“First of all,” anger rockets through my veins as I grab his shirt, yanking him to a stop and pulling him around to look into my eyes, “she’s not going to the house. She has a suite in the city and a plan not to leave it. But second, our father isn’t there anymore. He’s dead and rotted into the fucking ground, right where he deserves to be. Felix is in charge now, and Micah has his back. They’re decent. They’re annoying,” I admit, “Felix, more so. But they’re not our father and they’re not gonna hurt the people we love. So don’t say shit that no longer applies.”
“There’s nothing you could say that would convince me to put Emeri inside that house.” He shrugs my hand off and straightens his shirt. Then he starts walking again, forcing me to follow or fall behind. “She’s light and fun and color and beautiful chaos. She doesn’t belong inside that house, no matter who sleeps in the main bedroom these days. The fact you’ve taken Mayet there, more than once, says you’ve forgotten what life was like for us before we left.”
“I haven’t forgotten! But the fucker who hurt us is dead. Felix might annoy the ever-loving shit out of us every single time he speaks, but I can’t recall a single moment he wasn’t protective of us.”
“Well… except that time he got you shot.”
I choke out a laugh, slicing through the anger boiling in my blood and simmering my temper a little. “I would say that wasn’t his fault, since he wasn’t the one who shot me. But he was the reason we were in that warehouse that day, and the prick who shot me was there because of him. So…”
“Kinda like how it wasn’t his fault I broke my leg when I was seven…” He peers across. “But it was Felix who threw a stick in my path and was the reason I crashed my bike.”
“And like how it wasn’t his fault I destroyed Dad’s car when I was twelve… but it was Felix who snuck the keys and dared me to drive it.”
“Or how it wasn’t Felix’s fault Micah lost his virginity to a woman who charges for her time, when he was the one who ‘ set them up ’ and told Micah she was genuinely into him.”
My chest and shoulders bounce with laughter; for memories I’d repressed sixteen years ago, events that I’d completely forgotten existed. “He’s such an asshole.” And since I have a minute, as Tim and I step off the curb at the end of the block and up again on the other side of the street, I take out my phone and unlock the screen to find his name. “Did anyone ever tell Micah about her?”
Tim only shrugs. His fucked if I know signature expression.
Hitting dial, I bring the phone to my ear and, with the sun already gone and nighttime growing darker, I continue to watch the street I not only work on, but live on, too .
“Tickle my balls,” he answers stupidly. “I was thrilled about your calls before, but now it’s all getting to be a bit much. You’re very needy.”
“Uh-huh.” I burrow my free hand deeper into my pocket to combat the icy wind whipping between buildings. “Hi, Felix. Did you figure out who Nathan Booth works for yet?”
“That mafia wannabe motherfucker? No. But I’ve been asking around. Sometimes I catch a tidbit of information that seems promising, but when I follow it down the line, things fizzle. I’ll keep looking till I have something to tell you. Is that the only reason you called?”
“No, I?—”
“Because I’ve heard rumors about a cop killer over in Copeland, bruh. If you hadn’t picked up that phone by dinnertime tonight, I was calling you.”
“How the fuck are you hearing rumors? I haven’t made a statement about my case yet!”
“I have men inside your precinct, remember? That’s how little Miss Mia and I got to hang out that one time. Besides, it’s on the news, dipshit.”
“You mean that time you kidnapped a child? Which led to me being shot.”
“That wasn’t my fault!”
“Like how it wasn’t your fault Micah slept with a prostitute that time?”
As though my words unlock that memory for him, the way Tim did for me, Felix cackles. “Fuck, that was so funny. He still doesn’t know.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I was a concerned brother! Tim was doing fine with the ladies, and you, Arch, were alllllways the romantic. Cato was a baby, and I assure you, I’ve never needed to pay for a lay. But poor, sweet Micah…” He giggles. “He was too shy for his own good, so I greased the pan and exchanged a few dollars. Don’t tell him the truth, though. He seriously thought she was into him.”
“What was her name?” I massage my temple and work to remember. “S-something. She stuck around for a few weeks to really sell her story.”
“I paid her well, and Micah wasn’t gonna drop his pooch on a one-night stand.”
“Shauna?”
“Nah—”
“Shania?”
“Shandi. She was a classy prostitute with minimal STDs, I’m assured.”
“This is why we moved away,” Tim grumbles, stalking just a little faster along the street. “I already feel my blood pressure rising. ”
“Oh! Timmy too?” Felix practically fucking shimmies, wherever he is. “Is it my birthday, or what?”
“It’s not. Listen, I?—”
“Thanksgiving is coming up. I know I joke about the dinner thing, and you jokingly say no. But?—”
“Definitely not joking when I say no. Especially not when I say fuck no .”
“You’re being mean. But Thanksgiving will be here soon, and I’m seriously telling you that New York is non-negotiable. Bring your doctor. Tie Tim to the plane and force him across. Pack that cute little hippie into a suitcase and bring her too. I want my family together for Thanksgiving. It’s not an idle request.”
“Or what?” I’m defiant for the sake of defiance… it’s why our father wanted me dead. “You’re gonna cry about it?”
He laughs. Loud, mocking, and so fucking creepy, I wonder, for a moment, what fresh hell I’ve unleashed.
“Dear, sweet, baby brother . If you don’t put your ass on a plane and aren’t in my house for Thanksgiving this year, I’m gonna fly to you instead. I will forgo a fancy hotel, I’ll refuse accommodations at your empty apartment, and I won’t stay at the house.”
“Lix—”
“I will lay my ass on the couch in the middle of Minka Mayet’s living room, and that’s where I’ll stay for the entire week. I sleep naked, bruh. So do with that what you want. But I assure you, if your wife sees my cock, she’ll become my wife that same day.”
“You’re getting married next month, dickhead! But you talk about showing your cock to my wife?”
“I said she should not see it,” he argues playfully. “We’re playing a game of chess, Detective. I’m no pro, but I believe I just achieved checkmate. Be here, or you’ll pay the fucking price for your disrespect.”
“Uh-huh. Should I call you Dad soon, or…”
He snickers. “I prefer Lix. Or God. Or baby-your-dick-is-massive . Your choice. Now why’d you call me?”
“Minka’s gonna be in New York tomorrow. Without me.”
“No shit!” His threatening tone is gone, replaced with a bubbly excitement. “I’ll have a room fixed up for her to?—”
“No.”
He stops, stunned into silence. “No?”
“No. She’s not staying at the house.”
“Uh… yuh.” He scoffs. “She is. ”
“No, she’s not.” Like we’re six years old again, we bicker back and forth. “She has a hotel on Fifth Avenue. It’s booked and paid. She’s staying there, because that’s where she’s most comfortable.”
“Nooooo,” he drawls, stretching the word out. “Hotels are not comfortable. They’re sterile and formal and weird. Home is where family belongs. You don’t have to worry, I’ll get her from the airport and?—”
“You’re not listening to me, Felix! She doesn’t want to stay with you. She wants to stay at the hotel on Fifth Avenue. She wants to be alone, because her routine is about to be tossed on its head; she has to testify in court on a case that will hurt her heart, and she has the added worry about the cop killer thing. What she is not dealing with is you . She’s grown, she has an opinion, and this is what she chooses.”
“She doesn’t want to stay with us?” His voice turns oddly gentle. Vulnerable, even. Good lord, could it even be sad ? “She’s not playing hard to get?”
“She’s not playing hard to get. She likes her space, Lix, and she’s dealing with a lot of stuff. So maybe text her once or twice and make the offer for dinner, but then you leave it alone. She might be lonely by Thursday night, or she might be completely fucking spent from spending all day at the courthouse. Either way, where she sleeps and who she spends time with is her choice.”
“You’re being an ass.”
“No, actually, I’m not. I’m making sure my wife isn’t harassed by the very people who swear they love her. You’re not gonna bother her, are you?”
“I’m not gonna both?—”
“Say the words, Felix. In a full sentence. And end it with, I promise .”
“Jesus Christ.” He blows out a heady breath, unaccustomed to anyone, ever , telling him no or making demands. “I will not bother Minka Mayet while she’s staying in New York. Which just so happens to be the same city and state I reside in. I won’t annoy her, even if she’s vulnerable and traveling without her husband…”
“Felix?”
“I promise,” he growls. “For fuck’s sake. But what if I happen to be driving by the courthouse at, say, midday Thursday? Which is usually around the time a judge would call for lunch. What then?”
I count my breaths and make an effort to not snap at the brother who never truly matured. Or perhaps, more accurately, was forced to mature way too fucking soon. So, to balance out the bullshit in his life, he chooses humor when he has down time. “If you just so happen to be driving past the courthouse at the exact right time that my wife just so happens to be looking for lunch…”
“Yes…?”
“Then I’ll know you had her tailed and you put yourself there on purpose. Thus, violating the promise not to bother her.”
“Ugh! You’re being intentionally difficult.”
“I’m looking out for my wife and helping her through a particularly disruptive time in her life. Leave her alone, Felix.”
“?” That one word, in Tim’s serious tone, has my eyes whipping up and stopping on a shadow near the next corner. A dude stands with his back to the wall. A black jacket covering his broad form, the collar up, and his hands in his pockets. “Focus.”
“What’s wrong?” No longer joking, Felix’s tone turns sharp. “What’s happening?”
“Just trying not to get shot over here.” I squint in the dark and attempt to see his face. But he stands in the darkness, flawlessly able to angle his body to remain unseen. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be in contact over the next few days to ensure you’ve upheld your promise.”
“!”
“Talk later.” I pull the phone from my ear and slip it into my pocket, then I bring my head up and scan the street around us. Not only to the shadow ahead, but to those around us. Hidden in alleyways. Skulking on street corners. “Are you carrying?”
Tim scoffs. “Only an idiot would admit such a thing to a cop.”
Which means he is, in fact, armed.
“We’re looking for someone approximately six feet, two inches tall,” I murmur. “Not sure of his weight yet, but initial scene assessment has our perp standing taller than Mercer, and similar in height to Wright. This is according to the angle their bullets hit.”
“Six-two.” Nodding, he files that tidbit of information away for later, his eyes burning holes in the side of the shadow’s face. “He looks kinda smaller, no?”
“It’s hard to tell until we’re closer. But see that doorway about ten feet from where he stands?”
He allows his gaze to slide across.
“Standard door height is six feet eight inches. That means our perp is five to six inches shorter than that.”
“Thanks, Detective.” He drawls his words and walks a step ahead of me. “I had no clue how to deduct two from eight. ”
“You’re lashing out because you’re stressed.”
“I’m stressed because some fucker is out here shooting cops. The fact that my brother bucked family tradition and became one is enough to turn my hair gray. Hey!” He pulls out his weapon and startles a dozen pedestrians who squeak and bolt. Then he points it at the dude in a coat and quickens his steps. “Eyes up, collar down. Hands where we can see them!”
“Tim!” I sprint after my brother, my heart in my throat and the end of my career, amongst so much more, at risk. Then I catch up just as he presses the barrel of his gun to the guy’s jugular.
“What’s your name?”
“D-D-Dane.” Dane shakes. Full body, visible tremors that have his coat catching on the brick at his back and his jaw bouncing in fear. “M-my name is Dane Tucket. I don’t have very much money.” He reaches around, presumably for his wallet. “I’m sorry, I don’t?—”
“Hands where I can see them!” Tim snatches his hand and forces it back into the open air in front of his body. Then he nods toward me. “Search him.”
“You can’t just?—”
“I said search him!” He looks into Dane’s eyes, tilting his head that way the Timothy before him used to do. “What are you doing here, Dane?”
“Waiting for my girlfriend. I-I-I…” He points awkwardly, keeping his hand where instructed, but gesturing to the corner store a dozen steps from where we stand. “She went in to buy coffee. She does shift work, and she’ll be starting in a couple of hours, so she wanted?—”
I reach around and snag his wallet, but I already know my answer. “We’re Detectives Malone and Timson,” I tell the poor soul… partial lie . Flipping the wallet open, I confirm my suspicions. “We’ve had a string of murders along this street recently, and you kinda matched our perp’s description.” I show Tim the license, my finger resting right beneath the section that states height. Five-nine. Not our guy . “We apologize for interrupting your night.”
“I-I-I can go?”
“Yep.” I offer the wallet back with one hand and use the other to force Tim’s piece down before we both go to prison. “We had a witness further back who said they’d seen someone with your description loitering around here. We’re sorry for coming in a little hot.”
“I m-mean…” he stammers, and if I were to look down, I swear I might find a stream of piss sliding down his legs. “People have really been murdered? ”
“Every single day of the calendar year.” I snag my brother’s gun and take it apart in just two moves, sliding the magazine into my back pocket and popping the chambered round out the top before handing the rest back to its owner. “Be careful, Mr. Tucket. Get your girl and head back inside. I reckon the snow is gonna drop soon.”
“Um… s-sure. Yes, Sir.”
“Detective.” I grab Tim’s sleeve and drag him around so we can keep moving. “What the fuck?”
“I was saving us time.” He opens his hand and holds it between us until I give his bullet and magazine back. “Dude looked suss. If he was your shooter, you approaching the way we were would have been a death sentence for you. Instead, I shook things up and took him by surprise.”
“Because he was innocent! Scare our perp like that, and he’s likely to squeeze a few rounds into your belly before he’s had time to consider his next move.”
“You have your methods,” he glares, “I have mine. Yours tend toward diplomatic?—”
“It’s called following the fucking law! It’s not diplomacy, Tim. It’s about not committing a felony.”
“We were born to commit felonies.” He quickens his steps and moves ahead of me. “I’m not a cop, and I have absolutely no reason for diplomacy or kindness. My only purpose is to keep you alive and stand between you and a potential threat. Even if I end up eating bullets, they’ll get there because I’m standing in front of you.”
“It’s not your job to take my bullets!” I come to a stop outside his bar and shove him back until he hits the brick wall. “You are not my fucking shield. You’re not my sacrifice. And you’re not responsible for the things the other Tim did to us.”
“Um…” Minka clears her throat, startling me as I spin and find her at the opened bar door, while Aubree stares over her shoulder with wide eyes. “Is there a problem here, gentlemen? Something you’d like to discuss with us?”
“Yeah,” I snarl. “Tim’s a fucking martyr. He thinks it’s his job to fall in battle to save my life. And why?” I bring my eyes back to his, “because you’re the oldest? Because you’re the namesake? Because you think it validates your existence?”
“Perhaps it’s just called love,” he growls. “Same reason I packed my life up and crossed the country half a lifetime ago. Same reason I watch your back and check in every fucking day to make sure your ass got home. The fact that you sleep next door now, and not a couple of blocks up, makes my life infinitely better on that front. But having a cop killer on the street?” He shoves me back, forcing me to release his shirt or risk tearing the fabric clear off his chest. “I’m allowed to worry.”
“What you did back there was way more than worry.” I point in the direction we came. “That was a crime, and if I don’t hear about it by morning via an official fucking complaint on my lieutenant’s desk, then I’ll be surprised.”
“What did you do?” Aubree questions him. Then to me, “What did he do?”
“He thought he could play hero and break a bunch of laws on the way.” I point in his face. “Love matters, and I’ve got your back, too. But what you did was wrong. It was dumb, and it’s gonna get me fired long before I can take a killer off the streets.”
“Get fired.” Shrugging, his lips quirk into a small, smug smirk. “I’ll hire you at the bar. Saves us both trouble.”
“I’d say that about ends this conversation.” Minka grabs my hand and pulls me back, wrapping her fingers in mine and absorbing a terrifying amount of rage that, just a second ago, burned in my veins. “Things are kinda heated right now and no one is gonna be rational. Come on.” She gives me another tug when I don’t move, rubbing my arm with her free hand to create friction that warms. “? It’s time to go home. I’m leaving tomorrow, so tonight has to be for us.”