Minka
MINKA
F lying east means losing daylight hours. It means even if it’s still sunny in Copeland, New York City lights shine up from beneath the plane. The Rockefeller glistens and the Empire State Building stands proud. What were once the twin towers, is now something else. But the space glows, and taxi lights create a long, constant stream in every direction.
The pilot is skilled in their work. Smooth in their descent. So despite the smaller aircraft, apt to feel every bump and movement the skyline has to offer, this one brings us toward JFK without a single hitch that would, inevitably, make my stomach drop.
They have the wheels touching down with barely a bump, and soon after, the plane taxiing to whatever gate private planes use.
I took my rings—wedding and engagement—off the chain hung around my neck somewhere over Minnesota, so now they sit on my finger, providing me something to fidget with as the plane comes to a stop and the hostess paid to feed and water me unbuckles her seat belt and makes fast work of preparing the cabin for disembarking.
She grabs my bags and hands them off to the guard whose eyes, I’m certain, haven’t left me since we took off. His firm, square jaw is tight with purpose. His guns—I know he carries multiple—within easy reach, and yet, tucked away so I don’t have to see them.
He’s been tasked, whether by Felix, or possibly Archer, to be my security for this flight, and he’s a man who obviously takes his job extremely seriously.
A for effort.
“Doctor Mayet?” The hostess, blinding smile and perfect hair—a little like Fifi—comes to a stop beside my chair, carrying my briefcase in one hand. “You can disembark at your leisure.” She beams when the guard opens the plane’s door, as though his actions prove her point. “Mr. Malone has a car waiting for you outside. And Michaels,” she gestures to the watchful guard, “will ride with you the whole way. I sincerely hope your flight has been an enjoyable one.”
Flying is flying and planes in the air are far superior to planes smushed against the side of a mountain. So by those standards… “It was enjoyable. Thank you.” I release my seat belt and push up from the insanely comfortable chair, nothing like those on a commercial plane. No one’s elbows bumped mine. No one’s foot encroached on my personal space. Wondrously, no one smelled like onions, and though alcohol was offered and declined, the gesture was appreciated far more than the standard ‘ peanuts or pretzels ?’
Accepting my briefcase, I pull the long strap from its confines and drape the bag over my shoulder, freeing up my hands, then I step into the aisle—if an aisle is the correct word, when there aren’t rows and rows of seats to wander through—and make a beeline for my duffel. I reach out for it, intending to hang it from the crook of my arm, but of course, Michaels shakes his head and firms his grip on the straps.
“I can hold your briefcase too, Doctor Mayet.”
“I’ve got it.” I show him a small, comforting smile, then I gesture toward the front of the plane. “After you?”
“Of course.” He starts toward the door, not too fast, so he doesn’t leave me behind. But not so slow that I’m tempted to kick the back of his knee and rush him along. He’s the perfect escort, I suppose. Practiced and polite. Best of all, in the six hours we’ve spent together so far, it’s become apparent he has no desire for small talk.
My favorite kind of companion.
“I’m staying on Fifth Avenue,” I tell him, though no doubt, the man knows everything he needs to know. Archer would have ensured it. “Cato booked me and left a screenshot of the confirmation on my phone.”
“Yes, Doctor.” He stops at the top of the steps and offers a hand. It’s not a romantic gesture, and there are no hurt feelings when I wrap my palm around the railing instead. He offered. I declined. And still, the world goes on. “Mr. Malone sent over your itinerary. I’ll ride with you tomorrow to the courthouse, also. Mr. Malone’s orders.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glance out at the fleet of cars, a similar view to the one I had in Copeland, but swap day for night. Then I stare at the town car closest, its windows tinted black and the shadow of a driver in the front, awaiting my arrival. “Which Mr. Malone are you taking orders from, Michaels?” Slowly, I start down the steps, careful not to fall on my ass and create a tread-patterned bruise on the backs of my thighs. “Felix or Archer?”
He looks everywhere but at me. Scanning for danger? Or avoiding it? “Both, typically. Detective Malone advised me of your Fifth Avenue accommodations. Felix Malone assigned me as your detail for as long as you’re in the city.”
“I don’t require a detail.” I move off the last step and touch down onto the blacktop, finally, after a flight that felt entirely too fast, and yet, like time dripped through an hourglass to taunt me. “I don’t have a detail in Copeland. And I’m not, like…” I flick my hand toward the car. “In the same business as Felix. I don’t need security.”
“It’s a precaution, Doctor.” He moves to the car door and gently pulls it open to reveal a black interior. “Ms. Hale has one. Ms. Cannon has one. This is simply the wish of Felix, and since Felix is my boss…”
“At least he’s not a pain in your ass for free,” I rumble. “I don’t even get paid.” Accepting my fate and taking out my phone to prepare my, ‘ I landed, safe and sound ’ text for Archer, I slide into the car and startle when Michaels slams the door faster than I anticipate.
Then I jump again when a beautiful Malone smile beams in the darkness.
“Hey, Doctor Cutie Pie. You’re not staying in Manhattan, by the way. No fuckin’ chance.”
I drop my head back with a thwump and crush the phone in my palm, a proxy for the throat I’d rather throttle. “Goddammit, Felix!”
“ I ’m gonna kill him.” I stalk through Felix’s massive, multistory mansion and stride up the stairs toward Archer’s room. Not his childhood room, since Cato took it after Archer moved out, but the room they’ve made up for our visits anytime we come to New York—which has been nearly a dozen times in the last twelve months alone .
I cross the duffel over my torso one way, and my briefcase the opposite, freeing up my hands, and though it’s probably not polite to scream about my host in his own home, or make death threats to his brother over the phone, I do both. “He practically abducted me, Archer! You said he promised to leave me alone. But here I am, another of Felix’s kidnapped damsels with no way out unless I want to hurt his feelings. Ugh!” I throw my hands up as I come to the second-floor landing. Then I keep going. “Hurt feelings! This is who I am now?”
“You’ve evolved,” Archer snickers. “Six months ago, not only would you not care about his feelings, you would have slit his throat.”
“I’m still considering it! Now I have to stay at the house. Which means I have to socialize with people. And now he’s got Debbie, and Micah has Tiia, which means they probably want to like… ya know, paint nails and braid friendship bracelets or something.”
“The fact you don’t know that grown ass women don’t spend their time doing that entertains me. Debbie—as in, Christabelle Cannon—is an exceptionally successful, busy journalist. She pays someone to paint her nails. She’s not gonna sit on your bed and offer to do yours. And Tiia ended up with Micah, which essentially means?—”
“She’s crazy?” I growl at the guard who stands on the next landing. “Because she fell in love with a Malone? Oh wait!” I slap my own forehead and earn a wrinkled expression from a guard. A different one! Not Michaels. And not the other one. “I fell in love with a Malone too. Look how well that turned out for me.”
“Babe…” Exhausted, he sighs. “If you don’t want to be there, get in the car and leave.”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can. He put you there because he loves you and wants to protect you. But he’s not gonna tie you down and amputate your limbs if you choose to walk out.”
“Isn’t he?” Anger rockets through my veins as I come upon the fourth floor and turn to find my room. “Are you sure, Archer? Because he has a certain reputation, ya know? As in, he’s the freakin’ mafia, and now that your dad is dead, he’s kinda the don. New York City has a rich history of violence that revolves squarely around him and his kin.”
“I’m his kin.” Smirking— I just know he is !—he sits back in his office chair until the whole structure creaks. “He won’t kill you if you leave. He promised.”
“He also promised not to bother me when I arrived in New York!” I burst through the bedroom door and come to a screeching stop, because immediately, I’m met with the scent of Archer’s aftershave. We haven’t been here in more than a month, and the room is clean, which means Mary has come through and turned it over in preparation for our next visit.
But still, his cologne lingers.
And that scent, that reminder of home, is enough to almost strangle me.
“It smells like you in here.” I take a long whiff without a single care for the guard still in the hall. “Archer… I forgot this was how you smelled when I first met you. I’ve become used to it.”
“Taking me for granted,” he play-scolds. But his voice turns gentle. His ache, more pronounced the longer we’re apart. “I won’t be able to smell you until I go home, and by then, I might be so fuckin’ desperate that I’ll quit my job and come to you anyway.”
“I’m kinda glad Felix brought me here.” Setting my bags on the floor, I turn back and close the door to buy myself a modicum of privacy. God forbid Felix actually hears something nice about himself. “He’s irritating. And the fact he took the choice out of my hands has tripped my temper. But if I have to be anywhere,” I sigh. “I like that I get to be in this bed that you’ve slept in before.”
“I’m glad you’re there too.” He exhales a long breath, so the sound carries through the call. “I was leaving it alone, because you said you wanted to be in the city. But having you at the house where my brothers can keep you safe makes my belly feel a fuck-of-a-lot better.”
“I suppose this means proper home-cooked meals. And spending time with family.”
He snickers and scratches at the stubble on his jaw, the coarse grates an audible sound that paints a picture in my mind. “You have my sympathies, Doctor. Have you eaten yet?”
“No. We just arrived at the house when I called you. I was planning to grab something once I hit the hotel, but now…”
“Put on a pretty dress instead. You get to be Micah and Felix’s fifth wheel. Have you seen Christabelle and Tiia yet?”
“No, they weren’t in the car. Neither was Micah. And when I say I just got to the house, I mean, we literally pulled up, I got out and angry-dialed you, then I stomped up the stairs and shouted unkind things about the don.”
“You?” he taunts. “I don’t believe you’d behave in such a way.”
“Shut up.” I walk to the massive bed and turn to sit on the end. The mattress compresses under my weight, but the cloud-like luxury is enough to bring a groan to my lips. “I miss you, Archer. It’s total bullshit. ”
“Total bullshit,” he agrees. “If I work fast enough, maybe I’ll tie this up in time to hop a flight and stay a night with you.”
“What progress have you made since I left?” I know it’s only been six hours, but the detectives have solved cases in less time than that before. They’ve followed leads and elicited confessions in fewer hours. “Got your guy?”
“No. But we’ve caught a connection that kinda bothers us a little.”
“What kind?” I close my eyes and pretend, for a few moments anyway, that I’m not on the east coast while my husband is on the opposite. Instead, I picture him right here with me, lying at my side, and talking through a case the way we have a million times in the past. “Mercer and Wright are partners, so all of their cases connect them both.”
“Yeah, but they worked a task force once, targeting a mid-level drug dealer. Wanna guess what his name is?”
I open my eyes and glance along the length of my body to the door. I create a sight, I’m sure, double chin and strained neck. Then I whisper, “Is it Felix?”
He barks out a laugh that brings a grin to my lips as I drop back down again. “Not Felix. Two names consistently pop for us on every file, though one is even louder. Gale Ludlum.”
I silence for a beat and stare up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, should I know that name?”
“Yeah, he’s one of the pricks who put Jada in the hospital last month. And since he’s from that crew, that means he answers to Nathan Booth.”
“The douchebag who deals guns and powder through Copeland?” I shove up to sit. “Shit, Archer. Why is our cop killer connected to Jada?”
“Well… Connected to Jada, only in the sense that he deals and she buys. But Gale Ludlum is our focus right now. If we find him, we might find Booth.”
“And if you find Booth?”
“Hopefully I find him before Fletch does, because if I turn my back for more than twenty seconds, I worry my partner is going to prison.”
“Wait. But…” I think, think, think. “Who is your shooter? For Wright and Mercer’s cases, is Gale the one holding the gun?”
“Not sure yet. But Ludlum’s name is popping a lot, so we’re focusing on him for now and seeing what we see. We’re heading over to his house in a bit and knocking on the door.”
“Oh sure,” I growl. “Because if he’s the shooter, he’ll happily answer and invite you in for coffee. Archer! ”
“I was kidding,” he snickers… sort of. It’s weak at best. “We’re heading over, but only to observe. Our team will be placed strategically along the street until we find a three-sixty view. Once we get that established, we’ll watch for a little while and see who visits. No one has the go-ahead to breach, and at this point, I don’t even fuckin’ care if Jada walks in; Fletch is sticking with me and we’re staying out. This is bigger than just two dead cops, and it’s bigger than a mid-level drug dealer stealing a little street cred and turf to sell on. Someone wanted these cops dead for a very specific reason. The fact they were off-duty, and the hit was made at a place they don’t typically go, means they were called there.”
“Which implies whoever called them set them up, right?” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and study the door when I catch the movement of a shadow on the other side. My guards, I suppose. Keeping me alive. I want to roll my eyes. “Could the killer have been posing as an informant? A, ‘ Meet me at Marigold Street. I’ve got some good shit for you ,’ kind of thing. I can totally see your rat trading you to someone bigger, someone who pays better.”
“Garzo?” He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a click that hints at a spike in his temper. “He would never. I’m not just a cop to him.”
“No? So what are you?”
“A fuckin’ Malone. And Garz is old enough to remember what Copeland looks like when we’re running those streets. He wants to live, so he knows not to mess with me or Fletch. But you might be on to something.” He moves again, his chair squeaking. “I’m gonna try to run down Mercer and Wright’s informants. See if something jumps out at me.”
“So I suppose I should be given credit when this case hits trial,” I tease. “Since I helped you solve it.”
He chuckles. “You’re the M.E. on file, silly. You’re already getting credit.”
“Knock knock.” Felix’s childlike glee rolls from the hall and has my heart thudding to a painful stop. For a moment, anyway. Then it restarts faster than ever and brings with it a tidal wave of anger. “Everyone decent in there?”
“Are you dressed?” Archer rumbles. “?”
“Yes,” I sigh, for both brothers. Then for Archer, “I’m dressed. Guess it’s dinnertime, huh?”
“He waited till nearly nine o’clock. Dude eats like the world is going to famine, but he waited for you. And made everyone else wait, too.”
“Suppose I should be pleased.” I stare toward the door as it swings open, and a freshly changed Felix appears. He was in an expensive black suit in the car, with clean lines and glistening cufflinks that prove wealth. But now he wears sweatpants and a hoodie that has no business looking so good on his broad frame. “Your brother is here,” I speak in monotone. “Save me.”
Felix opens his arms, irrationally confident that I might cross the room at a sprint and hug him. Not happening . “Micah cooked steaks on the grill, Doc. It would be rude of you to decline a dinner invitation.”
“You certainly don’t want to be rude,” Archer sniggers. “Or the mafia might punish you.”
“Uh-huh.” I push off the bed, leaving my untouched bags where I left them on the floor, and stalking past a grinning Felix until he’s forced to close his arms and accept that we’re not hugging. “I’m hanging up. Check in every hour. It’s not even six there, and I know you’re going to work late, so make sure you’re sending those rocks. Don’t get shot.”
“Won’t get shot,” he repeats with a smile. “Promise. Enjoy your dinner. Don’t be too mean to Tiia and Christabelle.”
“Why on earth would I be mean to them? I don’t even know them.”
“Because they’ve gone ahead and fallen in love with men you consider insane. That disdain typically folds into the words you speak out loud. And if your words don’t do it, your expressions will. The fact they’ve shacked up with Micah and Lix…”
“Stupid of them,” I scoff. “Falling for a Malone. Have they no common sense?”
The joke is on me, considering I’m the only fool wearing a wedding ring.
“I won’t be mean. Follow up the snitch thing. Have I made my wishes clear on the other stuff?”
“Check in every hour. Send rocks. Text me when you’re done with dinner. If I catch a minute, I’ll call and talk with you till you’re asleep.”
The chance of me sleeping before he’s finished with his observation mission is so low, it’s sitting in Felix’s basement. But I don’t tell my cop that. He needs to focus while he’s in the field. “I’ll let you know when I’m done eating. I love you.”
He breathes a happy sigh, smiling. “Love you too. I never thought I’d say this, but have fun on your date with Felix Malone.” He mock gags, choking on the sound and turning my stomach with it. “Jesus, I’m breaking out in a sweat over here just thinking about it. Wasn’t so long ago, that was literally my worst fear. Now I’m just letting it happen.”
I turn at the top of the stairs and start down. “You’ve become soft, Detective. I’m disgusted.”
“Never soft when you’re around. Send me a picture of your tits. ”
“Good lord.” I drag the phone from my ear and end our call before my husband reverts completely back to New York Malone, then I purse my lips when Felix falls into step on my right.
“Is he panicking yet?”
“Yep.” I glance across and meet glittering emerald eyes. “Good to see you haven’t changed one bit, Felix. Kidnap anyone else between me and Debbie?”
“Nope. I save my best moves for the classy ladies.” He beams because, at the bottom of the stairs, Christabelle Cannon herself—a.k.a. Debbie—waits, with firmed lips and an expression that says she ain’t playing. But the gleam in her eyes speaks of love. It speaks of complete and utter devotion.
“Doctor Mayet.” She doesn’t offer a hand when I come off the last step and pause in front of her. Not because she’s rude, but simply because she knows I don’t want to be touched. “Welcome to our home. I’m disappointed, for your sake, that you’re here. Last I heard, you wished to stay on Fifth Avenue.”
“Yes, well…” I continue toward the dining room, gratified when she falls into step beside me and Felix is relegated to the back. “I certainly made my wishes clear on the matter. The fact that I’m here despite that is… sadly, not a surprise.”
She lifts her chin when Tiia pokes her head into the hall and backs up a little when our eyes meet. She’s newer. Shy, even, I suppose.
Though I don’t feel that’s her personality, in general. This is a case specific nervousness that seemingly applies only to me.
Interesting.
“You’ve met Tiia.” Debbie makes the introduction anyway, forcing the sheepish woman back into the hall and her lovely amber eyes to flick between mine. “Tiia Hale, Doctor Mayet.”
I don’t offer my hand. She doesn’t expect one. It’s a copacetic relationship I feel we’ll all establish in due time. “You can call me . No need for the doctor unless I’m plugging a wound, saving your life, or stripping you down for an autopsy, though by that point, you won’t be talking at all.”
“The saving my life thing,” Christabelle smirks. “You’ve done that for me. Not the stripping part, luckily.”
“The former, less mature version of me would make a comment about that scenario.” Felix lobs his arm over Christabelle’s shoulder and tugs her in till she crashes against his chest. “You and Mayet, undressing each other…”
“Yeah sure,” she drawls. “I’m so glad you’ve matured.” She tips her chin toward the dining room. “Should we eat? I hate to sound rude, but it’s nine o’clock and my stomach is rumbling.”
“Suits me.” I look Tiia up and down as she turns on her heels. She wears sweatpants too, the slouchy, too-big kind that probably belong to Micah. But it’s hardly a surprise she’d prefer those over jeans, what with the bullet she had in her belly not so long ago. “How’re you healing up? You’re still walking with a hunch.”
“I think that’s something I’ve trained myself to do.” Deliberately, she straightens her spine and extends what would have been an insanely painful scar out until the skin likely stretches and the muscles behind it groan. But unless she wants to walk with a hunch for the rest of her life, she’s best to fix her posture now, while she’s young and fit. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”
“It’s closed, right?”
“Yeah. Now I have what looks like a second belly button. My hip hurts more than anything else. But it’s all coming along good, and Micah makes me do those stretches every damn day like the doctor ordered.”
Bet he does.
“Doctor Mayet.” Speak of the devil, and one of the Malones shall appear. Micah sets a heaped tray of steaming steaks on the dining table and pats his hands together to rid them of… crumbs, I guess. I don’t know. Then he wanders across the room and sweeps his beloved under his arm.
It’s so wonderfully odd, the way she melts into his side and relaxes when she couldn’t do so prior.
It’s the same kind of magic Archer possesses when he holds me.
“Good to see you, Doc. Even better to have you here for something other than a medical emergency.”
“Christabelle nearly dying,” I lift a finger, as though to tick the incidents off. “Tiia being shot. You, yourself,” I smirk, “with a few of your own wounds.”
“It’s proven beneficial to have a doctor in the family.” Humored, Felix steps around our small group, dragging Debbie along with his hand wrapped around hers, and leads her to the table. “I always knew Arch would put the family first and marry right.”
“Yeah, because he chose me purely to serve his brothers’ misadventures.” I gift Micah and Tiia a small, exasperated smile, accentuated with a roll of my eyes, then I circle them and head to the table. My stomach is screaming for food, and tomorrow, when I’m dragging myself out of bed for an early morning after a late night, I know I’ll be unhappy with things .
Especially now that I’m staying so far outside the city and will have to factor a commute into my day.
“Archer was certainly shopping for doctors when we met. It was the first question he asked me: ‘ Can you stitch a wound, save a life, and keep your mouth shut about the mafia ?’”
Not.
“He’s a good boy.” Grinning, Felix mows right over my sarcasm and helps Debbie into her seat. He presses a kiss to her temple and slides her chair in, then he pulls out the one beside it, gallantly offering it to me. “Since Archer’s not here, and you’re the only stag at our party, as your host, I feel it’s my duty to?—”
“I’ve got it.” I snag the chair on Tiia’s left, while Micah chuckles, plopping into the chair on her right. “Thank you though, Mr. Malone.”
“You’re especially unkind when he’s not around, huh?” Taking the chair he offered me for himself—not the head, which is interesting—he reaches across and grabs a thinly cut steak and gently places it on the plate in front of Debbie. “I’m surprised he didn’t burn that city down to ensure he could come with you.”
My stomach dips for all the same reasons it dipped when I stepped onto a plane without him. “He wanted to. He was planning to. But work kept him away.”
“He’s running a cop-killer case,” Micah rumbles seriously. Despite the surprised jerk of my head as I lean forward and glance back to catch his eyes, he sets his arm on the back of Tiia’s chair and massages the column of her neck. His thumb on one side, his fingers on the other. He makes it so her eyes soften and her cheeks flush. “I keep my ear to the ground. I know that you have two cops down.”
Growling, Felix drops a steak on his plate with an undignified plop. “I had no fuckin’ clue I’d worry about him more living the straight and narrow life. Our world is dangerous, Mayet. But his is worse.”
“He’s competent and smart.” Tiia takes the salad bowl from the middle of the table and slowly piles leafy greens onto her plate. “He has a team around him who have each other’s backs. Maybe this case is particularly confronting, but the chances he’ll be caught unawares and harmed by the guy he’s looking for are slim.”
“Comforting.” I don’t set my phone on the table and dial the one number I want to, though it takes herculean willpower to stop myself from doing exactly that. “He thinks he caught a break on the case while I was in the air, which is good, I suppose. ”
“You suppose?” Debbie narrows her eyes with curiosity. “Why would that be a bad thing?”
“Because the closer he gets to his perp,” Micah rumbles, “the closer he gets to his perp’s weapon. It’s a double-edged sword.”
“This dinner is depressing.” I stack food on my plate and prepare to choke enough down to get me through. “I’m sure you’ll understand if I simply eat and go to my room.”
“You gonna call him?” Felix softens his expression and smiles when I glance up. “Can I hang out while you chat?”
I breathe out a quiet laugh and shake my head. “Not happening. But I’ll text and let you know he’s alive and well.” I glance across to Debbie, though I’m not really sure who I should ask. “I have to be in Manhattan by eight in the morning. At the courthouse by nine.”
“We’ll have a car out the front waiting for you,” Micah answers instead. “And a security detail. You don’t have to worry about?—”
“No security. But thanks for the car.”