Archer
ARCHER
I step into the war room inside our precinct, not because we have an active homicide cooling faster than we can keep up, but because the table is large enough to spread all our files and shit on and keep something that could possibly, distantly, be described as organization.
My mind and eyes are on my task, but when Fletch silences another call and slips the phone into his pocket, I set my file on the table and look across to my partner.
Because this has been going on since yesterday. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Hmm?” He glances up and waves me off like he thinks that’ll convince me to mind my own fucking business. Then he wanders around to the box I set down earlier and takes the lid off, pulling out files and reading those—or pretending to, at least. “Wanna take another swing at the Smith?—”
“I’ve let you have your privacy.” I slap the top of his file and smirk when his honeycomb eyes pivot my way. “I was more interested in spending time with my wife and getting her into bed. But now I’m paying attention, and I’m not letting you hmm your way out of this. Who keeps calling, and why aren’t you talking to them?”
“Trust me.” He snatches up his file and turns away. “You don’t wanna know.”
“I do.” Curiosity beats in my blood as I fold my arms and bar the door, if only to ensure he can’t escape. “I hate to bring her up, but the only thing I can think of, that you think I don’t wanna know about, is Jada.”
He sets his hands on the back of a chair, hunching over the faux leather and arching his spine. “Ding ding, Detective. She’s dragged herself out of whatever sewer she’s been in since rolling me for my TV and Tylenol. Now she’s blowing up my phone and asking for another chance.”
For fuck’s sake.
Though, those are not the words that leave my mouth. “You’re not willing to give her another chance?”
He barks out an exhausted laugh. “Look at you, pretending to be tolerant. If I said I was bringing her into my apartment tonight, you’d be in my face and telling me how stupid I am.”
Well, yeah. True. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here for you. Whatever your choices, however you get through, I’m here to listen. So is she… uh…” I clear my throat. “Is she coming back?”
“She’s trying to.” He squeezes the chair until the leather stretches in protest and his knuckles turn white. “She’s sorry. She’s cleaning up. She’s willing to go to rehab, blah blah blah.” He lifts his head and punches me with the look of a man in pain. “She swears it’s different this time, Arch.”
“So you’ll take her in?” Please, God, don’t do that to yourself again. But I grind the words over my tongue, “I’ll support your choices.”
He snorts. “I told her it’s done. If she wants to clean up, great. I texted her the name of the clinic and told her to call and book herself in. If she needs somewhere to sleep, I texted her the name of a shelter nearby. She needs medical help? I texted her the address of the hospital.” He stands tall again and sets his hands on his hips. “She knows all this stuff, obviously, but this is me making the effort, without sacrificing me and Mia.” He exhales a sad sigh. “I feel like a piece of shit, Arch. No matter which choice I make, I feel like the asshole.”
“You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. That doesn’t make you an asshole.”
“I help her, and everyone thinks I’m stupid. I don’t help her, and I feel like I’ve abandoned her.”
“She abandoned herself. But she’s got the tools to land on her feet again. You’re doing the right thing.”
“Yeah?” He shakes his head. “Keep reminding me of that because right now, she’s blowing up my phone and filling my voicemail with the sound of her tears. Imagine that was Minka,” he groans. “Imagine she’s begging for your help, and all you do is stand by and say… nope. Too bad, so sad .”
My stomach aches at the thought. My heart bleeds, and my brain rejects the notion. But Minka isn’t Jada, and Jada’s been saved already. Too many times to count. And not once did she use the opportunity to keep her head above water.
There are only so many times a man can save a drowning woman before she pulls him under, too.
“I’ll keep reminding you,” I promise. “Every hour. Every phone call. Every time she forces you to carry the weight of her tears. You’ve gotta save you and Mia now. Jada can do this on her own, and you’re no longer her simp, begging to be abused.”
He scoffs.
“I’m proud of you for saying no.” I nod when his eyes come up to mine. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Yeah.” He sniffs. One fast intake of air before he brushes his fingers beneath his nose and reaches out for his file again. “Anyway. Work. I don’t wanna think about what she’s doing right now.”
“So let’s talk about Fifi instead?”
I jump out of the way when he picks up a pen and pings it across the room, ninja star lethal, until it hits the window and threatens to pass straight through. But I laugh, circling the table the long way so we’re never closer than a few feet. “I thought you wanted me to take your mind off of Jada?”
“And put it on Sera? You’re the worst best friend a man ever had.”
“But now you’re less sad.” I reach into the box and search for a new file. But my phone rings, and right after it, Fletch’s does, too. “Well, hell,” I drawl. “Sounds like someone died.” Clearing my throat and pulling the device from my pocket, I answer and bring it to my ear. “Detective Malone.”
“Dispatch, suspected homicide on the corner of Durban and Fourth.”
“Yep.” I bring my free hand up and scratch my fingers through my hair. “I’m on my way. Detective Fletcher is right here with me, so we’re both attending. Stand by. We’ll request medical examiners once we’re on the scene.”
“Affirmative.”
I look at Fletch and lower my hand. Then I smirk and start toward the door. “Guess we have something else to focus on now. No more Jada and no more?—”
“Swear to God, if you say Sera’s name one more time…” He stalks out of the war room just a single step behind me, only to skid to a stop a mere few inches before he runs the trim Seraphina Lewis straight over. He chokes on something—his soul, I assume—and stumbles back a step when her glacial eyes look us up and down. “Sera? Uh…”
Brutally aware of the fact we’re in a homicide bullpen—and she’s in it now, too—Fletch swings his head around in search of our newest threat. “What’s wrong?” He snatches her hand and yanks her off balance, dragging her to stand between his back and the wall. But it’s for naught because there is no threat… except for the mayor, who wanders just twenty feet away. “What the?—”
“Please don’t touch me.” I glance back just in time to catch Fifi flicking his hand off. She stands tall and stiffly fixes her jacket until the creases are perfect and the lapels are symmetrical. “Nothing is wrong.”
“This is where people come to confess to murder, Sera!” He turns his back to me and holds her to the wall with a look. “Or for help. So which is it?”
He won’t help Jada anymore, despite her begging for it. But will force himself on a woman who would rather chew her own arm off than admit to having feelings for the dipshit detective.
“I’m here for work.” Cold, she broadens her chest and shifts so her hair falls to her shoulder blades. “My boss is in the room right this moment, and I’m supposed to be by his side. I was stepping this way to get a better view of the bullpen, and I didn’t see you here, so I figured doing so would be safe.”
“You looked for me?”
She narrows her eyes. “I scanned for you in hopes of avoiding this very interaction. It seems my mistake was in not checking every room before jumping to a conclusion.”
“Why’s he here?” He looks across to the mayor again. The middle-aged, sharply-suited Daddy Mayor , as Aubree so gleefully dubs him. Then back to Fifi again. “Is something happening we should know about?”
“Yeah, it’s called meeting the men and women who work for the city . It’s probably best that I don’t tell my new employer of all the hours I’ve witnessed the both of you waste inside the George Stanley.”
“It’s not wastage,” I smirk, if only to bring tensions down a little from their current state of ‘ we’re about to fuck this place up ’. “At least half of my time there is work. The other half is spent staring at my bride.”
She purses her lips and clings to me, purely so she doesn’t have to meet Fletch’s eyes. “I could get you in trouble for that.”
“Tell him.” I laugh. “See what he does about it. He considers your former chief the third apple of his eye, and she’s placed third only because of the two biological daughters he had two decades before. Go ahead and snitch. Let’s see what happens.”
“How are you?” Fletch’s voice is softer. His eyes, round and hopeful that she’ll give him even a minute of her time. Never mind the fact we have a dead body waiting on Durban and Fourth. “Are you alright, Sera? I haven’t seen you at the bar lately.”
Finally, she rearranges her expression and meets his gaze. “I’ve altered my dining habits. With that, and my change of employer, it’s unlikely we’ll run into each other in the future very often. Current situation excluded.”
“I hate to be a killjoy.” I grab the sleeve of Fletch’s jacket and give it a gentle pull. “But we got a homicide to attend, so…”
“Wait.” Fifi’s eyes flicker to mine. “Someone has died?”
“Literally our job. Nine-ish days a week. Come on,” I give Fletch another tug. “She’s not gonna chit-chat with you today, no matter how much you wish she would. She’s working, which is when she’s the most stubborn. That means we gotta go.”
“Come to the bar for dinner,” he tries again. “Please. Mia’s been asking for you, so maybe you girls can eat together, and I’ll sit away if that’s what you want.”
“Don’t do that.” Her jaw clicks with tension while she cuts the man with a ferocious look. “Don’t use Mia to bother me.”
“I’m trying to offer you a chance to spend time with her outside of me! You care about her, Sera. Hate me if you must, but you care about my daughter.”
“I’m a month in.” She stands impossibly taller, her neck elongated as far as it can go. “Waltzing in and out of her life is not what’s best for her. Two months, and she won’t even ask for me anymore.”
“Sera!”
Heads swing this way. Eyes taking in the scene Fletch is too emotionally stretched to keep under control.
Worse, the mayor looks across, and he’s nothing if not protective of the hens in his henhouse.
“Let’s go.” I take a step and drag him with me. “Now.”
“I said I was sorry,” he groans, fighting my hold and turning to keep her in his sight. “I was in a fuckin’ crisis, Sera. I needed help.”
“You knew how it felt to be hurt. But instead of rising above that and being better to those around you, you chose to hurt me.”
When he reaches out, she brushes his hand away. “You took my traumas and wounded me with them, Charlie. With your eyes wide open and all of your faculties working for you. That’s abuse, whether you want to label it or not, and it’s not the type of relationship I wish to pursue ever again. Not in my lovers. Not even in my friends.”
“Sera…”
“Please encourage Mia to forget me.” Her voice crackles with an ache I know too well. “I’m doing what I truly think is the best thing for her. Just a few more months, and she won’t remember I exist.”
“She won’t forget, Sera! And neither will you.”
“Which is penance for having known her. It’s a price I’ll pay for eternity. Though it’s one I hope you’ll save her from.”
She turns on her heels and stalks away before Justin ‘ I protect my chicks ’ Lawrence waltzes over and smashes some skulls. So I fist Fletch’s jacket and pull harder this time, bringing him around and holding on when his injured leg would otherwise make him stumble and fall. “You need to get this under control.”
“I have nothing under control!” He shoves my hand off, but at least he walks forward. Through the bullpen and away from the woman he wants more than any other. More, even, than he ever wanted Jada. “This is why I don’t sleep. Why I don’t eat. Women!” He stomps on to the escalator that cuts through the belly of our building and slams his palm to the hand railing, drawing attention from the cops moving around us. “One of them is abusing me, and in turn, I abuse the next. It’s a conga line of toxicity, and Sera is the smartest one of us all. She knows how to make it stop; step out of the fucking line and say no.”
“Fletch—”
“Clearly the same thing I should have said to Jada eons ago! If I was as strong as Sera is, I wouldn’t have let Jada fuck with my life. Which, in turn, fucked with Sera’s. I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it, for someone who doesn’t deserve my loyalty.”
“Makes you a sucker.” He’s not ready to listen. Not able to be sensible. So I let him rant, and I’ll be the kid with a magnifying glass. “You were told not to let Jada in. You did, and these are the consequences of your actions.”
“Fuck you very much.” The moment we’re at the bottom, he clomps off the escalator and charges into the police precinct parking lot. We’re not walking to our crime scene, and luckily for him, I already have a set of keys in my pocket. Or else he’d be heading back upstairs to sign out a car. “You should drive,” he snaps. “Because I might run some motherfuckers down just to hear them pop.”
I look at the CCTV camera that sees and hears everything. “Pretty sure that will be served as evidence in court someday. He didn’t mean it,” I speak a little louder. “He won’t hurt anyone.”
His phone trills, vibrating his pocket and sending his temper flaring. He checks the screen and snarls. Guess it’s Jada . “For fuck’s sake!” He jams his thumb on the red dot and kills the call, then he squeezes the device until it’s at risk of cracking. “I feel like my head is gonna explode.”
“Give me the damn phone.” I move on fast feet and snatch it away before he can stuff it into his pocket, then I press my free hand to the back of his head and shove him toward the car. Fuck knows, maybe someone is watching the CCTV feed and already writing a report about us.
I check his phone, only for the screen to change again when Jada’s name pops up.
The ringtone is a trigger for the man already tiptoeing perilously close to the edge of sanity. But talking to the woman who so effortlessly hurts him is a trigger for me. So instead of accepting the call, I decline and silence the phone. Then I go into the settings and make all of her calls silent.
I’m not blocking her. Not interfering in a tangible way. But I am protecting my best friend’s mental space. He’ll get to her when he wants to and not when she’s crying for it. Until she checks herself into rehab and proves she wants a new life, she can sit on the outside of ours and rot.
Cheating, lying bitch.
“Let’s go solve a murder.” I toss the phone back, knowing he won’t let me get in the car without doing so. He wants to be away from her drama, and he’s standing strong in his stance for now. But that stance may change, and when it does, he has to be able to turn words into actions.
It’s the only way he’ll be able to sleep at night.
“Let’s play a game.” I slide into the driver’s seat and slip the key into the ignition. “Male or female?”
His brows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”
“Our killer. Angry dude or scorned female?”
“How the fuck can I know? We haven’t even seen the crime scene yet.”
Chuckling, I back us out of the parking spot before putting the car into gear and angling toward the exit. “I know. That’s why it’s called a game. Ya know, for fun. Male killer or female?”
“You’re gonna lose your job.” He settles back into his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s literally no way to know.”
“I think it was a pack of females.” I pull out of the garage and into a gap in traffic. “They were enjoying a bachelorette party on a cruise until the maid of honor decided to voice her feelings. She’s in love with the?—”
“Groom?” He rolls his eyes. “Unoriginal and predictable motive.”
“Her feelings for the bride!” I make the ha sound just to irritate him. “They’ve been best friends since third grade. Did everything together. Basic Becky Number One has always wanted Bride Barbie, but Bride Barbie got engaged to a dude. Basic Becky was jealous, but she was too shy to speak up. Until the booze cruise. Once they got on the ship and the alcohol flowed, it was all over. Becky and Barbie had words.”
“And Becky threw Barbie not only off the ship that literally doesn’t even dock in our bay, but she threw her a dozen city blocks, too? That’s some Hulk-level rage, Malone.”
“See! You’re playing along. But you’re wrong. Bride Barbie isn’t dead. Basic Becky killed the second bridesmaid because that bridesmaid uncovered a plot to kill Ken. Bridesmaid was gonna snitch to Barbie, so Becky offed her. She waited till they were off the ship and having coffee at a trendy little cafe downtown before she stabbed her with a Louboutin. Now that bridesmaid is out of the way, Ken is none the wiser, and Bride Barbie will soon be single. It’s the perfect plan.”
“Right.” He shakes his head. But at least he’s smiling again. “So the snitchy bridesmaid uncovered this murder plot but kept it to herself and agreed to coffee with the would-be killer? Sounds a little na?ve, no?”
“It’s Monday,” I shrug, “and pre-coffee. Minka does the craziest shit on Mondays before coffee.”