Archer
ARCHER
“ I t’s always the husband.” I wander through the bullpen at a little after five and set a file on the desk in front of a scowling Fletch. Because his phone flashes with missed calls, and his stance on ignoring them remains solid.
For now.
“Uniforms in Eugene, Oregon, grabbed our guy crossing a Walmart parking lot. He’d bought a backpack, a few days’ worth of clothes, toiletries, and a month’s supply of ramen.” I sit on the edge of his desk and fold my arms. “Guess he was preparing to hunker down somewhere quiet and hope we’d lose interest or some shit.”
“Did Delicious come back with the official cause of death yet?”
“It’s leaning toward poison.”
Stunned, he glances up. “Poison?”
“It’s not textbook since she probably should have been frothing at the mouth and bleeding from the eyes—neither of which was happening—but Mayet has sent off for labs and is deeming the case mostly closed. She’s thinking an insecticide of some sort that was administered slowly over the course of a few months. Medical records have come back that Mrs. Masters has been a frequent flyer with her doctor for the last little while. Lots of small, annoying sicknesses that couldn’t be explained. They were about to progress toward a full blood workup and a specialist medical center to get to the bottom of what’s going on. I would speculate, based on his proclivity to bolt today, the husband panicked and finished the job. If the tests had been run, he would’ve gotten caught anyway. So, I guess he was going all in. Official cause of death was a failure of the kidneys, caused by toxicity. That toxicity will be confirmed with the labs. Masters ran, which kinda paints him as guilty, even if we don’t have proof yet. It also makes it easy for us to get a no-knock warrant and search his place.”
“We already got one?” He releases a tired sigh when his phone lights up again. So he reaches across and turns the device over to buy himself a moment of peace. “We’re going in tonight?”
“Nah. Paperwork’s with the judge, and seeing as how she’s dead and our killer is in custody, tomorrow will be soon enough. Lieutenant Fabian said we can split and finish this tomorrow. So,” I push off his desk and snatch his vibrating phone. His eyes scorch me where I stand, but it’s momentary and gone again when I offer the device back. “I want you to go home to your baby. Shut the world out and find yourself a little quiet.”
He scoffs. But at least he stands and circles his chair, shoving it under the desk and shrugging into his coat. “Easy for you to say. The world has never been so fuckin’ noisy.”
“And I’ve never seen you so stressed.” I clap his shoulder and hold on until his eyes come to mine. “I’ve known you a long time, Fletch. Through the good and the bad. Through Jada’s infidelity, and then after. Hell, I knew you during that period when you discovered the identity of a certain killer we don’t speak about.” I squeeze his shoulder. “This is the one that’s hitting you the most.”
“She’s crying out for me.” He pats his pockets to ensure he has everything he needs. “Her cheating on me, avoiding me, robbing my apartment, and running away… it all sucked. But I dealt with it because I didn’t have a choice. But now she’s asking for my help, and I do have a choice. Finally, I’m in the driver’s seat again.” He exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in control again, and I feel shit about it for every minute I ignore her. I know she’s not Minka, and I know the circumstances aren’t the same. But I want you to think, for just a moment, how much it would hurt you to see your wife like this, and you do nothing to help her.”
“You’ve done everything to help her.” I angle around when he’d rather look anywhere else, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You’ve almost killed yourself to save her. There’s no shame in stepping back now.”
“Like I said…” He backs away, allowing my hand to fall and his dismissal to sting somewhere deep in my heart. But at least he turns and waits for me to walk with him. “Keep reminding me. Because this is gonna get worse before it gets better. And ya know what hurts more?” He peeks over as we exit the bullpen and start toward the escalators. “She asks for Sera. Mia,” he clarifies when my brows come closer together. “Every fucking day, she wakes up and asks if today’s the day Sera will visit. I don’t even remember the last time she asked for her own mother.”
“She knows goodness when she sees it. Despite Fifi’s prickly exterior,” I chuckle, “she loves your daughter. Mia feels that, just as surely as she feels Jada’s negligence. It’s pretty black and white from where a child is sitting: one woman left her, and even when she was around, she didn’t love her the way she should have. The other woman didn’t have to be there, but she was anyway. And fuck, but Mia felt the love.”
“And good old Dad—” he eyes the cops entering and exiting the station like bugs swarming a porch light, “—fucked that up good and proper. Sera refuses to break her stance on this, and I honestly can’t even blame her.” He looks up to meet my gaze. “I was cruel, Arch. I was hurt, and I lashed out at someone who never deserved that. She’s right to cut ties and leave before it all gets messier.”
“I firmly believe things will work out the way they’re supposed to.” I follow him off the escalator and move toward the front doors. “I know that’s vague and unhelpful. I know it doesn’t really help anything right now, but I believe that Fifi will do what’s right for her, and you’ll do what’s right for you and Mia. If it’s meant to be, perhaps your right and her right will cross over. You both need space for now, for as long as Jada is spiraling. Space is good. But it won’t go on forever. She’ll end up in rehab, or she’ll?—”
“End up dead?” He shoves through the glass door and stops on the street outside, pinning me with a look that is both haunted and challenging. “Is that what you think is gonna happen, Arch? You think this will either be a fairytale ending with everyone happy and healthy, or a funeral?”
“I mean…” I run my fingers through my hair and sigh. “There are only two outcomes here, and you’ve handed her the tools for the first. We know her. We know how she ticks, and that she’s not always against hard work. We saw her at her best, and now we’re seeing her at her worst. It’s not insane to hope she’ll come out of this okay. For Mia’s sake.”
“Arch—”
“The alternative shouldn’t be our focus. It solves nothing and hurts you.”
“Yeah, well…” He turns away with a huff, only to spin back again and huddle into his jacket as an icy blast of wind shoots along the street. “Keep telling me I’m doing the right thing. Because you’re saying what you’re saying, but all I know is that she needs me to answer the fuckin’ phone and help her. You lie, knowing she always needed to be tended to, even when she was healthy. She always needed me to smooth the way. If her options now are hard work or death, then my options are to help her, or watch her die.”
“You’re doing the right thing.” I repeat it, for him and for me. “She has the number for the clinic, and it’s clear she has a phone capable of making calls. Plus, the hospital knows who the hell she is, so if she lands back in there, for whatever reason, we can set up roadblocks before they discharge her again. If they’d kept her the entire week last time, instead of releasing her while she was coming down, then she’d probably be in rehab by now. We need a redo, Fletch. One more time where she lands in the ER, then we can get her the help she needs. But until that moment comes, it’s not your responsibility to run out in the fuckin’ snow and save her. Not when you have a baby girl at home, waiting for you.”
“It’s so hard to know what to do.” He reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. “I’m damned, no matter what I choose.”
“Choosing yourself and Mia is not neglecting Jada. Stepping back and protecting your daughter from her toxicity is the right choice.” I drop a hand into my pocket when my phone rings with Minka’s song. But I smile at Fletch and leave my wife to hang for a minute. “You’re choosing the child who deserves the world, not the woman who can, and should, take care of herself. When it’s all said and done, you’ll be able to look your daughter in the eyes and tell her you chose right.”
“Jesus.” He scrubs a hand over his face and turns again. “Take your damn call and live your happy life.” But he glances back, a little lighter in the eyes. “You take a motivational speaking course lately?”
I chuckle and swipe to answer, but I leave my hand by my side for a minute more. “I’m speaking my truths, and you’re spiraling because Fifi won’t agree to date you.”
“Asshole.” He flips me off and starts walking toward his apartment. “I know you say that shit to get my mind off Jada.”
“It works. Want me to phone Fifi and tell her you said hey? I bet she’d accept my call. Since, ya know, I’m not a prick who said mean words.”
“I hate you.” But he keeps walking, lifting his hand and waving. “With my whole heart.”
“No you don’t.” Satisfied, I turn on my heels and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey. It’s date night, and I’m horny as fuck.”
“Good lord,” she exhales. “The Malone trauma runs deep. You’re sad for your friend, so you turn it to go-go juice that’ll fuel your sexual exploits.”
“Yeah, but I save all my best sexual exploits for you, Minnnnka. You at the apartment?”
“Yes. I’m cooking dinner.”
I skid to a stop and press my hand to my gun. “Why? What did I do?”
She barks out a teasing laugh that sprinkles into my veins and releases the tension holding me in place. “Nothing! My cooking isn’t a punishment, jerk. I didn’t feel like a burger from Tim’s. Our favorite Chinese place is closed tonight because their kid has a hockey game, and I found these steaks in our fridge when I got home. Did you buy them?”
“The steak?” Careful now, Malone. She might be trying to kill you . “No. Cato bought those. He was gonna cook them up after class.”
“Then Cato will be pleased to know he donated to the charity of Minka’s belly tonight. They’re good protein. I’m making mashed potatoes with garlic butter, and I’m currently boiling some vegetables. We have the apartment to ourselves for a few hours, and I figure we’ll need a hearty meal before you try out that sexual exploitation thing.”
“Right…” I slowly begin walking again. “And this has nothing to do with avoiding discussion about today’s date, right? Seeing as Diane Philips’ anniversary is coming up.”
“Don’t talk about that.”
“Or that stuff you told me about at Thanksgiving, about your dad, that you refuse to discuss. It can’t be about that either?”
“Nope. I’m just horny.” I know she grins. More importantly, I know she likes to fuck to avoid trauma just as much as I do. “Hurry home, Detective. Or I might start without you.”
“Do it,” I counter, as though I don’t give a shit. But I’ll be damned if my walk doesn’t turn into a jog. “See if I care. I’d rather talk about hard topics and face reality for once.”
“You’re such a liar. You’re the poster child for toxic avoidance.” I hear the sound of a fork on a plate. The bubble of hot water on the stove. She’s really cooking. And yet, I so willingly hurry toward death. “Fletch doing okay?”
“Yeah, but I don’t like talking about him while my cock is hard. How are you doing?”
“Relaxed. Hungry. Ready to snuggle in with my husband and do absolutely nothing else for the night. In that order.” She tastes something on the fork and spurs me faster when a soft little groan rolls from the back of her throat. So I race toward our building and yank the glass front door open, only to blow past Steve, the landlord, though he opens his mouth to speak.
Later, man. I’ll talk to you later.
“You cooked steak?”
“Mmhm. And potatoes. I’m especially excited about those. Garlic is never nice on a woman’s breath when she’s dating. But we’re married now, so…”
“You’ll let yourself go,” I chuckle. “Jesus, woman. Next thing we know, you’ll be farting in the hall and burping at the dinner table.”
“Ludicrous. Women don’t have gas. You nearly home?”
I round the second floor and start up to the third. “Nearly. Should I have gotten dessert before I came home? Since you’re cooking dinner.”
“I was kinda hoping I would be dessert…”
Adrenaline surges in my veins as I come to our floor. I hear her intake of air, not only on the phone, but as I push the door open and find her in yoga pants and a sports bra, her belly on full view and her delicate ribs, countable as I slam the door in my wake and charge her way. I slip my phone into my pocket and steal hers just as soon as I can reach. Then I grab her hips and swallow down her cry of surprise, pressing my lips to hers and my hardened cock to her core. “Home.” I nibble and grin when she wraps her arms over my shoulders. “Fuck, Minka. You could be anywhere, and that’s where I’d call home.”
“Funny. I think the same when you hug me.” She wraps her legs around my hips and settles in when I place her on the counter. “Could be anywhere else. But not anyone else.”
“No one else.” I slide my fingertips down her sides and over every rib that stands out just a little too much for comfort. She has muscle there. Fat. Just not enough to ease the worry I hold in my heart every single day since knowing her. “The apartment smells fantastic.” I pull back to sniff the air. “Can hardly even smell the arsenic in my dinner.”
“I didn’t poison you.” She brushes her fingers through my hair and drags me down until our eyes meet. “Believe it or not, but I’m kind of attached.”
“Which was my plan all along. And though I know we’ll have unhealthy, trauma-filled, emotionally fantastic, mind-blowing fuckery soon… Do you wanna have a respectable dinner first?” I nip at her chin and smirk when she vibrates under my hands. “Like an actual date. We could talk politics and savings accounts. Perhaps even investments.”
“You think you’re teasing me, but if my options are to talk about boring stock market stuff or my dead dad, then I’m choosing the boring stuff.”
“We could talk about the Diane Philips case.”
“I’d rather invite Jada to dinner and become her best friend.” She leans back and searches my face. “Fletch okay?”
“It’s a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of situation at this point. Nothing is better, nothing is worse. He’s just getting through and coping as best he can.”
“She keeps calling him?” Her eyes, brown like warm chocolate, flicker between mine. “You said she’s been blowing up his phone all day.”
“Once almost every hour since yesterday. He caught a three-hour gap today, which was, sadly, worse.”
“Because then he worried instead,” she guesses correctly. “Ya know, we have certain abilities, considering the people we know and the knowledge we possess.” She twists on the counter and finds her fork, because I guess she really is starving. Digging it into the pot of potatoes, she comes back around and offers it to me first. So I open my mouth and take half. “We could find her,” she explains, “with Soph’s help. Knock her out, using my medicinal knowledge, and drop her into the trunk of a car, using your brawn.” She flashes a wicked smirk. “Teamwork, don’t you see?”
“Also known as an abduction, which is a criminal offense.” I steer the fork back her way and release it only when she wraps her lips around the metal and takes the potatoes onto her tongue. “I’m brutally aware you’re not opposed to committing certain crimes, Doctor Mayet, but I believe we had an agreement that they would be minimal and only to save a life.”
“I consider this a life or death situation.” She licks the fork clean and flashes a delicious dimple that visits me in my dreams. “Leaving Jada out there to make her own decisions is clearly not a good idea. And allowing her to fuck herself over will hurt Fletch, too. And Mia. Our actions would save all three.”
“And be a waste of our time when, ultimately, she does a runner and ends up right back where she started. Just like last time.” I check the stovetop for our protein, but when I find only the mashed potatoes, I check inside the oven and discover two plates warming and a juicy steak sitting on each. “You really love me, huh?” I snag a hand towel and open the glass door. But I select only one plate, because I prefer sharing with her anyway. I could be starving, and I’d still eat slowly and make sure she matches me, bite for bite. “Looks so good, babe.”
“Cato’s gonna be pissed,” she snickers, leaning across and snagging a knife from the drawer. “He went out and selected these cuts himself. He’s training tonight, which means he’ll be hungry when he gets back, and by the time he realizes he’s been robbed, the smell of garlic and steak will already be in his lungs.” She cuts through the meat and selects a cube to offer my way. “It makes the meal so much more enjoyable knowing it’ll annoy him.”
“You have a sadistic side.” But I open my mouth and accept her offering. “Turns me on.”
“That’s the trauma speaking. We’re both as screwed up as each other. How was work?”
“One of the easier days.” I take the knife and fork since she places her hands in her lap instead of cutting a piece of steak for herself, and extricating myself from her legs, I get serious about my current task. Because she has an innate ability to suck me in and allow her to skip a meal. I cut a piece and bring the fork to her lips. “We caught a case. We solved the case. Sometimes they’re easier than others, and when the most obvious suspect skips town and turns up again a few hours away, it makes things a hell of a lot easier. Perp’s being transported back to Copeland as we speak, and then he’ll sit in a cage until Fletch and I get to work tomorrow. We’ll get the confession, and we have a warrant on a judge’s desk, just waiting for a signature. We’ll search his home and find the evidence we need.”
“You seem less pissed about this case than others.” She dips her finger into the potatoes and scoops some out. But when I figure she’ll suck the smooth mash from her digit, she offers it to me instead.
“It’s not uncommon for you to trade sleep and mental health for an open case.”
“Pot,” I chuckle, suckling her finger clean. “Meet kettle.”
“Right. But you’re surprisingly calm about this one. It’s…” Her brows slowly move higher. “Spooky.”
“I have other things on my mind right now. Those things provide perspective, and though I feel for my current vic, and I’ll do the job properly to land the prick in prison, it’s just…” I shrug. “Sometimes a case is just another day at the office. The fewer I become emotionally invested in, the better for us both. Are you mad I’m not stressed about it?”
She scoffs and accepts another chunk of steak when I cut a piece free. “No. Your stress is my stress. I was only making an observation. Easier days make me happy, and Fletch could clearly do with the break.”
“Have you heard from Fifi lately?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. I think she’s avoiding me, and to add irony to insult, it almost seems like I have to speak to the mayor to get to her. It’s a whole conspiracy set up by him. I swear.”
“God forbid you pick up the phone and talk to someone who cares about you.” I poke at the steak and toss a piece into my mouth. “He calls you daily. You ignore him daily. But you get mad that you don’t get to speak to his assistant?”
“Why’d that other assistant retire, anyway? It wasn’t necessary.”
“Because she’s, like, ninety-seven years old?”
“Proving my point exactly. She had three more years in her, at least.” Then her eyes light up. “What if we train Callen to be just like Fifi, then we play swapsies with the mayor? He won’t even notice.”
“Pretty sure he will.” I lean in and plop a kiss on the center of her lips. Then I replace it with more food because she’s talking more than she’s eating. “He swung by the precinct earlier today, so I got to see Fifi for a minute.”
“Did you talk to her?” She chews and studies me. “Did she mention me?”
“Tell me you’ve never pined for someone after a breakup without telling me.” I cut a slice for myself and grin. “I’d like to think you’ve never had a bad breakup before because you were always the one breaking hearts. But common sense tells me you simply never socialized enough to land yourself in a situation that warranted dating. Casual fun,” I amend with gritted teeth. “Sometimes. But relationships?” I shake my head. “No.”
She pouts. “I’ve had relationships. I’ve dated.”
“You’ve known people but remained emotionally uninvested. Until me.”
“Yes,” she drawls. “Because you insisted. Now answer the question. Did she ask about me?”
“No.” I take pleasure in the way my cold answer deflates the woman who, a year ago, would have laughed at the idea of making friends. “She was busy with her stand-off with Fletch. She was otherwise distracted. But I’m sure, if she had the mental bandwidth, she’d have asked about her beloved former boss and friend.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” She drops her head but peeks up at me from beneath long lashes. “She look okay? Happy, at least?”
“Apart from the Fletch thing?” I reach around with the fork and scoop up a glob of potatoes. “Yeah. I think she’ll thrive in her new job. He’s as high as anyone can go in this city, and she’s his right hand. She’ll have the time of her life, just as soon as she can focus on that and not on the man she kinda wishes she could be with and the little girl she misses more than she’d miss her entire leg.”
“Maybe we should invite her here for dinner or something.” She lifts her head and accepts the fork between her lips. “Tell her Fletch isn’t coming—which would be the truth,” she adds when I make a face. “We won’t invite him. So she can come over and be comfortable about it. Then we’ll invite Mia, too. They want to see each other, so we’d simply be facilitating that.”
“Sure. Except Fifi has made her wishes clear on the matter. It’s not that she can’t see Mia. She has all the chances in the world. Fletch would deliver his daughter anywhere if it meant an hour with the woman. But she chooses not to see her. You ambushing her at our apartment will do nothing except fracture trust and a relationship you want to keep.”
“You’re being entirely too rational.”
“Just trying to get through without breaking any more hearts,” I counter and press a kiss to her jaw. “It brings me actual, physical pain every time Mia asks for Fifi. But unless Fifi is sticking forever, no matter what happens with her and Fletch, then it’s best she doesn’t come in and out the way Jada does.”
“So she should just abandon her?” She sits tall and straightens her spine. “You don’t abandon the people you love, . That’s not fair.”
So we swing back to not discuss her father, then?
“We don’t get to make their choices for them, babe. Fifi is in a lose-lose situation because Mia isn’t hers, and she and Fletch aren’t nearly stable enough to allow Mia to develop deeper feelings. Jada clearly has problems with Fifi, considering the things she’s said to her in private, so even if Fifi and Fletch end up in a relationship, what do you think Jada will do about it once she finds out? Spite is a motivating factor for a lot of people.”
“So, what? You think Jada will take Mia to punish Fletch for choosing Fifi?”
I shrug and eat faster. Because we have bellies to fill, but a metric ton of trauma rearing its ugly head. “I don’t know what she’ll do. But I know she’s capable of bitterness and shitty decisions. Fletch, too, is in a lose-lose situation. And there’s sweet little Mia, caught up in the middle of it all. There’s nothing anyone can do right now except get through it, day by day. Here.” I offer her a chunk of steak. “Eat this so I know you have enough food in your belly before we fuck.”
Smirking, she glances across at the clock, still set to New York time. “It’s barely even six.”
“Cato’s due home around nine.” I scoop potato in my mouth. “That gives me three hours to fuck you into exhaustion and not worry about him listening while you scream.”
“Oh. Well.” Her cheeks warm, and her eyes automatically jump to the door. “I guess I could go without trashy TV, if you promise to provide better entertainment.”
“Bet.” I set the knife and fork down and grab a glass instead. I fill it with water from the tap and use it to swish my mouth, clearing the food from my teeth and freshening my breath. Then I offer her the same and watch as she grins and follows suit.
“How very romantic, Detective Malone.”
“Getting to the point is romantic in my eyes.” I take the glass and set it down with a heavy snap. But then I scoop my wife up and revel in her squeal of delight. Her cinching legs and the cathartic laugh rolling along her chest. “Burying my cock inside you as quickly as possible is the epitome of romance.”
“Such a smooth talker.” She wraps her arms around my neck and trembles when I squeeze her ass and nibble on her collarbone. “I do believe this is the same Malone who talked me into his bed less than an hour after meeting him.”
“I save my best moves for you.” I carry her out of the kitchen and past our locked apartment door, then into the hall as Chloe, our snowy white cat with a bad attitude, scampers past and will make me pay for our disrespect tomorrow. “Some would say I’m a crude, unlikable piece of shit.” I step into our room and kick the door shut. “But you seem to love me. Flaws and all.”
She yelps when I toss her onto the bed, her hair flipping up to cover parts of her face and her chest heaving as she sucks in enough air to fill her lungs.
I set a knee on the mattress between her legs, then lean closer and place my fists on each side of her head. “There are plenty of people on this planet who would see me dead and not feel a lick of sadness at the funeral.”
Her eyes darken at my words, her excitement turning into anger. “I’ll bury them long before I bury you.”
“But then there’s you.” I lower and bite her bottom lip. “Despite how unlikable I can be, you love me. And that’s what makes me the luckiest motherfucker on Earth.”
“Funny.” She groans and lifts her hips when I grind my hardened cock over her pussy. “I often think the same, but in reverse. How flawed and weird and unlikable I can be. Yet, I got to marry a man as selfless as you.”
“No. I’m selfish.” I slip my tongue past her lips and moan when she kisses me back. When she circles my hips with her legs and pulls me closer. “My love for you, in itself, is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. But for you?” I pull back and search her eyes. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy, Minnnka. There’s no one I wouldn’t break if it meant protecting you, and nowhere I wouldn’t go to keep you close.”
“Home.” She guides my head down and whimpers when I latch on to her peaked nipple, even through the fabric of her bra. “That’s all we need.”
“I love coming home to you every single day.” I yank her yoga pants down, then her panties to reveal her pulsing core, begging me to fill her up. I know, in the back of my mind, thoughts of Fletch and Jada plague me. What they had, and what they have left. I think of my father and the relationships he destroyed and the women he killed. I think of Seraphina and the hurt she nurses each night while she attempts to get over a man and his daughter. Their loss is like lashes of a whip across my back. Pain I run from, but never truly escape.
But I have this. I have now. So I bury myself in Minka Mayet and vow to do whatever it takes to break cycles and keep what we have intact. “I love you so much.” I unzip my jeans with one hand and fist my cock until electricity rockets through my veins. But she’s ready for me. Waiting, with her hips poised and her heart racing. So I slam deep inside and take her.
Because I’m the most selfish man that ever lived.