Minka
MINKA
“ I don’t want to go out there again.” I lie splayed across Archer’s chest, my leg resting over his thighs and my ear pressed above his heart. His pulse thud-thud-thuds to create a perfect symphony in the back of my mind, and best of all, his fingers stroke the sensitive skin covering my hip. We’re wrapped up so tight, we may as well be one person. But I hear Cato in the living room now, moving around and dropping his bags.
Archer and I have been in here for… I don’t even know. Hours.
“He’s gonna find my panties on the floor in the living room.” Groaning, I pull back far enough to look up into his eyes. “We left them there and forgot to pick up before he got home.”
“Those are his panties now.” Chuckling, he folds his neck and feathers a kiss to my lips. “You’re never getting them back.”
“The fact you’re okay with it concerns me.” I roll my eyes and straighten my head again so I can be comfortable. “Your baby brother is a pervert, and he’s barely five minutes into adulthood. He can’t even legally drink yet.”
“I didn’t say I was okay with him stuffing my wife’s panties into his pillowcase and pulling them out when he’s lonely. I’m just saying I’m realistic enough to know he’s gonna stuff my wife’s?—”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” I blindly bring my hand up and clap it over his mouth, not at all sorry when I miss my target and poke his eyes instead. “He’s a creep and him having them feels icky. Which is why I’m not going out there again tonight. Or, ya know, this year.”
He nibbles on the tips of my fingers. “No one is forcing you to. Stay in here forever, and I’ll bring you enough food to sustain life. I won’t ever have to share you again, which is completely okay with me. And you won’t have to talk to my brother again, which, evidently, is okay with you.”
“If only life was so simple.” I moan at the chime of my phone echoing along the hall and tapping at our bedroom door, like a visitor gently requesting entry. “The outside world insists on talking to me.”
“It’s nighttime. Aubree’s with Tim now, so you never have to take her calls and expect it to be an emergency. And your office hours ended at five o’clock.”
“As chief,” grunting, I set my elbows on his chest and push up until my hair drapes over my shoulder, tickling his flesh. “My hours technically never end. Patten comes in to take over, but if shit hits the fan, the fan becomes mine to clean.”
“So clean it tomorrow.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and finger, dragging me closer until our lips brush together. “Stay in bed tonight. It’s a far superior plan.”
“And if it’s not work? Could be Felix or Micah. Or worse,” I add, when he opens his mouth to argue, “could be Fletch. Your brothers could call each other if we ignore them, but if it’s Fletch?—”
“He’d call my phone. Not yours.” He nibbles on my bottom lip. “You find it difficult to lie in bed and do nothing when the rest of the world is still moving outside of us. You can switch your brain off for a short time. An hour, tops. But then it all comes crashing back. You become antsy, and you’re revving to go.”
“I can’t rest if my brain is noisy.” The call ends momentarily, only to start again immediately after. So I push off Archer’s chest and twist to find something to wear, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me around again until his eyes are all I see. Not the tattoos covering his chest, and not the scars hidden between. Not his broad shoulders, or dark hair, or even the stubble on his chin, or the chain hung around his neck with his wedding ring held permanently close to his heart.
I see only his emerald stare and the promise in them every time he looks at me. “What?”
“We didn’t take things too far, did we?” Adjusting on the bed and resting his back against the headboard, he pulls me around to study my ass. It stings when the cold air touches it, which means he left his handprint and a reminder that I belong to him.
But I smile, because I know he needs it. “We’re okay.”
“It was just a game, right? When you said to wait, but I didn’t. And when I said I would choke you out and fuck you while you were uncon?—”
“It was a game.” I lean closer and nibble on his lips. “Even when I gave you permission to do so much more, you made sure I was safe and unharmed.”
“I slammed you against the wall.”
My body warms all over at the memory. “It didn’t hurt. And you gave me exactly what I asked for. More importantly, I knew all along that you would maintain control and do things you knew wouldn’t cause actual, lasting harm. Pinning me to the wall, while I used my hands to absorb the impact, isn’t the same as throwing me to the wall headfirst. Tossing me to the bed isn’t the same as slamming me to the floor.” I slide my hands along his wrist and press a kiss to the top. “We’re okay. I promise. You know me well enough now to know that if I wasn’t happy, I’d tell you.”
“I’m counting on it.” He cups my cheek and brings me up until our lips feather together. “I love you more than I love my own sanity. So I’ll do whatever I need to do to make you happy, Minnnka. If you’re ever lonely or in need of attention, or if I’ve upset you and I don’t realize right away, I need you to speak up so I can make it better.”
“I will. We made promises for forever, remember? I’m not living in an unhappy marriage for the next eighty years. Which means we fight to make it happy, or I’ll just put poison in your dinner and call it a day.”
He releases me, just like I knew he would, and drapes his arm over his eyes, his chest bouncing with soft laughter. “It’s cute that everyone outside of us would consider that a joke. But I know better.”
“You definitely do.” I turn and search for pants, my phone ringing out again, but my text alert dinging to let me know my caller has something important to say. I don’t feel like squeezing into anything that fits me properly. I want more space. More comfort. So I go to Archer’s drawers and tug out a pair of gray sweatpants with Copeland City PD stamped along the leg.
From his time in the academy, maybe? I’m not sure.
I stab one leg into the pants, and then the other, before I pull the fabric up and yank the old knot free so I can pull it tight and knot it again to fit me. “I think it’s cute that you know the stakes.” I peek over my shoulder to find him watching me from beneath his arm, his lips curled into a devious grin and his eyes plastered securely on my bare breasts. “I love you,” I explain, “and you love me. Neither of us will go without the other, and neither will intentionally bring harm or hurt feelings into our relationship. But if something were to happen that we can’t work through, I’m not interested in an amicable divorce and a pleasant meeting between lawyers to discuss who gets to keep the coffee machine. I’ll simply lace your dinner. Because I’d rather you were dead than fucking some other woman the way you fucked me tonight.”
“I save all of me for you. I sure as shit have no energy for anyone else. And who do you think keeps calling you?” he growls. “Because they’re really fucking insistent. They’re being rude.”
“It’s work. Somehow, magically,” I narrow my eyes and let him know I know who messed with my phone, “all of my contacts have different ringtones, so I barely need to even look at the screen anymore. Feeling Groovy by Simon and whatshisface is hardly subtle.”
“For Aubree.” Chuckling, he drops his arm to the side. “It suits, no?”
“Mm. And the Star Wars Death March for any calls coming from the George Stanley?” I move to the closet and select a shirt—one of his. I shrug it on and tie a little knot in the side to keep the excess fabric under control. “Real funny, Malone. I had Aubree change it as soon as we got to work.”
“Ah…” He reaches out for me, his fingertips brushing my hip, but we’re too far apart for him to really get a good hold. “That’s why I didn’t recognize who was calling now. You changed the George Stanley from cinematic genius to…” He listens when my phone rings again. “What the fuck is this?”
“I don’t know. Aubree changed it, and I don’t know how to pick something else.”
“Are they saying Tooty Ta?” He crawls off the edge of the bed and taps my ass with the pads of his fingers. No slap this time, because doing so would hurt. But he needs to touch. It’s in his DNA to grab me every time he’s close enough. “What the fuck is a tooty ta?”
“I don’t know! None of this would be a problem if you didn’t mess around with my phone in the first place. But the tooty thing is the better option, considering yours was ominous and depressing. I didn’t want to feel like Vader’s dudes would gun me down every time someone called from my office… which is every damn day.”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “This is a way better option. Aubree’s punking you, Mayet, and she’s so sweet about it, no one would dare accuse her of being evil to her core.” He selects a shirt and quickly slips it over his head. Then he moves to the same drawer I stole pants from and takes a pair for himself. “Tooty ta,” he sings to himself, stepping into the fabric. “Tooty ta.”
“Jerk.” I stride toward the door and straight through while his ass is still on show. It’s his punishment for messing with me, but honestly, I’m not even sure he’d care if Cato saw him in his skin anyway. “I need to take that call, not only because it’s probably important, but because I want that damn song to go away.”
“It’s so fuckin’ annoying!” Cato calls from the living room. “Make it stop, Mayet! Make the music go away.”
“Hush.” I stride along the hall and pretend I don’t notice my panties on the floor. Nor the single black heel I intend to wear to the funeral on Friday. Snatching the device from the counter and reading GEORGE STANLEY on the screen—redundant, really—I swipe to answer and bring the phone to my ear. “This is Chief Mayet.”
“Chief! Hey!” Patten’s breath comes out on a fast exhale. “Shit, boss. I’m sorry for hounding you. I know this is my shift, and it’s on me to keep things under control, but we have a bit of a situation over here that you’ll want to know about.”
“Okay.” No one is dying, and nothing horrible is transpiring. Because if it was, she’d have led with those details. So I go to the fridge and search its contents for a snack to eat. “What’s happening? And if you tell me a D.B. woke in the fridge again, I’m gonna flip a table.”
On the other side of the room, Cato snorts.
“No one woke, Chief. But as it turns out, one of the cases that rolled in a little earlier was picked up by Doctor Chase.”
“Annnnnd? Doctor Chase is an alien from outer space, and his medical degree was a forgery?”
She rolls her eyes. I just know it.
“No. He’s not an alien, so far as I can tell. But he had a mishap during autopsy that led to a torn glove and a puncture wound on the side of his finger. The wound is tiny,” she adds quickly, knowing my this is fine attitude dissipates in an instant. “Needle prick size. Chase alerted me immediately, at which time, we flushed the wound and followed all protocols. The issue is…”
“Shit.” I slam the fridge closed and groan. “There’s an issue.”
“Yeah. As luck would have it, the D.B.’s medical records arrived a little after that incident. He died from HIV-related complications.”
“Dammit, Patten!” I turn from the fridge and startle when I find two Malones staring straight back at me. Alerted by my tone, and concerned, because that’s who they are. But I close my eyes and focus on my call. “Shit. This is bad.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Chief. It was a freak accident. Chase is a veteran M.E. and he’s never had something like this happen before. He’s entirely capable and not a?—”
“He’s not being fired. Relax. Send him to the hospital immediately for testing, and?—”
“Already done. I had two others escort him down while I stayed behind to close the D.B. and put him away. I wanted to make sure it was done right, and no one else was at risk. The suite has been sterilized, of course, and Chase is already having blood drawn. We’ve followed protocol, but it would have been a mistake not to make this call and inform you of what’s happened.”
“You did the right thing.” I draw a long breath and exhale until my lungs constrict. “How’s he handling all this? Chase,” I clarify. “Being stuck and mixing your blood with HIV positive is gonna mentally screw with even the healthiest people.”
“He’s okay so far. He’s always been my toxically positive doctor on staff. Kind of like Emeri is for you. Reality probably won’t smack him for a few more days.”
“What comes next is your call, then.” Frustrated, I run my fingers through my hair. “If you think he needs time off, give it to him. Paid. But if you think he’d benefit from normalcy and routine, then bring him back for shift tomorrow. Some prefer time away, others need everything to be business-as-usual. I’m leaving that decision in your hands, and whatever you decide can be revisited if something should change.”
“Something… like his mental state?”
“Yeah. Exactly like that. Do you need me to come in tonight?”
“Oh, no,” she brushes me off. “It’s fine.”
“My staff are my flock, Patten. Just as your staff are yours. And one of yours got hurt tonight. It might be nothing, or it might be a lot. And that’s a lot for anyone to process. If you need to be set free for a few hours, or a few days, tell me and I’ll pick up the slack.”
“I’m one of the business-as-usual types, Chief. I’m also aware you’re planning a funeral and have your own things happening. I’m sincerely sorry for interrupting, especially this week.”
“No need to be sorry. I’m a business-as-usual type, too.” I drag my eyes open and stop on Archer’s while he waits. His hands on his hips and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “If you need me to step in, you’ll call.”
“Yes, Chief. I won’t drop the ball until you’re here and ready to catch.”
“And you’ll have an incident report on my desk by tomorrow morning. The mayor will want to know what happened, and he won’t shut the hell up unless he’s certain both flocks are being cared for. Make it thorough and ensure there’s a section in there about how we’ll keep this from happening again.”
“Yes, Chief. Will do.”
“Any word on how long Chase will be at the hospital?”
“Probably a few more hours. There isn’t a lot to be done tonight except draw a little blood and shove prophylaxis down his throat. The real testing begins a few weeks from now, and as you know, won’t stop for several months after.”
“Yeah.” Three months of hell, at least . “I know.”
“I imagine they’ll tuck him away and feed him juice and ice-cream until his hands stop shaking. His wife is a nurse over there, so that’ll be a big discussion, too. I doubt I’ll hear much until I head down there after shift in the morning.”
So he’s married, and now he can’t safely be with his wife until this is all straightened out. “Alright.” Sighing, I drop my head back and stare up at the ceiling. “Don’t run away until we have time to talk in the morning. Unless you need to leave,” I amend. “You know, like, mentally, you feel like you have to check out. Keep me informed via text as you get new information. Hopefully, I’ll wake to something along the lines of, ‘ Psych. We were totally kidding. ’”
She snorts.
“And if not that, then something like, ‘ Chase is in good spirits and still smiling. Everything is as okay as it can be. ’ Check in on the rest of your crew, too. Because this is a fear every medical professional carries, and now someone they know has been hit. Their hands are probably shaking, too.”
“Will do. I’ve already brought everyone in for a how are you doing ? chat. But I’ll keep on it and pull them off the floor if I think it needs to happen. D.B.s will stay dead and wait for us to get to them. There’s no rush.”
“Exactly.” I turn and glance up at the clock on my wall, still on the wrong time. But I speak fluent wrong time . “I’ll be heading to bed in probably another hour, but you can call anytime. I won’t be mad.”
She chokes out a nervous laugh. “I’d rather not.”
“I insist, and as your chief, I have rank. If you need to call, call.”
“Fine.” Accepting her fate, even if she doesn’t particularly like it, she starts walking, the tap-tap-tap of her shoes on tile echoing through the line. “I’m gonna push on and get everyone through our shift. I’ll make contact if and when I need to.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you later.” I bring the phone away from my ear and set it down when the screen goes black. Then I hold the edge of the counter and stretch my arms until I groan. “That was a sucky call. A really, really sucky call.”
“HIV exposure?” Archer comes around the counter, just like I knew he would, and stands behind me. His cock touches my ass, but it’s not sexual this time. His hands come to my hips, and even then, his touch is about comfort. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I straighten and allow him to hold me. The back of my head on his chest and his lips hovering by my ear. “We work so damn hard to make sure we’re safe. We treat every body as though it’s HIV positive. Our PPE keeps us covered and the air filtration systems ensure we’re breathing clean air. But my tech slipped, I guess, and split his glove. One tiny mistake, and his entire life may have changed.”
“They can’t test yet, right?” Cato backs up to lean against the couch. “I remember in health class, they said it takes like two weeks for something to show up in your blood.”
“Basically. For now, it’s all about slamming the PEP down his throat, which should cut his risk by about ninety percent. But it’s that last ten percent that’s gonna keep him awake for the next little while. We can’t test for a couple more weeks, and then again at a month, then three months. I’m hopeful they’re clear, especially considering how quick he’ll have the prophylaxis in his system.”
“So that’s that, then.” Archer slides the hair off my shoulder and strokes my neck with his fingertips. “Now you wait?”
“Yep. And it’s not like calling the hospital, or anyone, really, can make this go faster or easier. Science has to do its thing, and that takes time no matter how frustrating it can be.” Stepping forward, my heart flutters as Archer’s hands fall away and his lips fall into a pout, but then I twist and plaster my chest to his. So, of course, he wraps me up close and nestles his lips in the top of my hair. “Fletch’s life is on fire,” I mumble, “but all we can do is wait for Friday and hope his sanity remains intact. Now Doctor Chase’s life is the same. And just like with Fletch, we wait and hope. That’s all there is to do.”
“Sounds like we’re going to bed, then.” He slips his hand between us and pinches my chin until I lean back and look into his eyes. Then he grins and kisses the deep line of frustration cutting between my brows. “Eat something, since we didn’t do dinner yet. Then sleep. You’ll have time to suit up and head to the office in the morning to talk to your staff. I’ll go to Fletch and make sure all the last-minute things have been ironed out. Tomorrow night, we can expect the onslaught of Malone on Copeland City.”
“Oh God.” Exhausted, I close my eyes and laugh. “I thought we rid our city of that mess?”
“I love it when we’re all together.” Cato noisily flops back on the couch, flipping until he faces the television. Then the volume goes up and some late-night newscast hammers across the apartment until I have no choice but to face the fact Jada’s death has hit the news.
Not because she was a woman beat to death by a violent drug dealer. But because she was once married to a cop, and that cop has handled one-too-many high-profile cases in the past.
“Police say they’re investigating,” Miranda London drones. “But there have been no arrests so far.”
“Turn it off.” I rest against Archer’s chest and grumble. “She’s trash, and watching her tells the network we want to see more of her face. Turn the channel and eventually, she’ll be out of a job.”