Chapter 18
MINKA
Soph:
Strike Sheppard and Roux from our list. They’re done.
Giambattista Haynes was nabbed at JFK and is now in federal custody for matters unrelated to what we’re doing, and I received intel this morning Poul Abate might’ve gone ghost.
That’s two more to tick off our list, and two that have escaped our control. The data pisses me off.
Iwalk a lap of the bay in yoga shorts and one of Archer’s shirts the next morning, in sneakers as new today as they were when I bought them three or four years ago, since exercising is not typically part of my daily routine.
It’s barely past six, but the air is already hot, sweat already pools under my breasts, and Mr. Harrison’s beady-eyed stare only makes things worse.
Sucks to be him, though, because at least I don’t have to do this nonsense in jeans and boots.
Me:
We’ll monitor Haynes’ federal investigation. Chances are, they’ll let him walk, and when they do, we’ll step in.
I’m at the bay, but there’s no sign of Mihalis Salonen yet. I have a tail anyway, so there’s not much I can do without listening ears, but I figured getting eyes on him would be a good start.
Soph:
Harrison’s your tail? That bothers me a little.
Me:
Why?
Soph:
He knows tech, and he’s not too shy to try new things. Even if he fucks it up, he’s happy to have the experience. He knows I exist now, and he knows you and I are pals.
He’s trying to slide his sticky fingers into my cookie jar.
The cookie jar is a metaphor for ‘this bitch is trying to hack me.’
Skidding to a stop, I lower my hand, my phone hanging by my thigh, and spinning in place, I surprise Harrison with my heated stare.
“What?” He looks left. Right. He peeks over his shoulder, then brings his gaze back to me again. “What happened?”
“You keep trying to hack Sophia?”
His cheeks blaze, red and embarrassed. “She noticed? That means I got close, huh?”
“I suggest you find a new hobby.” Turning again, I bring my phone up and continue walking.
Me:
He’s very sorry.
Soph:
No, he’s not. He’s got more confidence than he earned, and every time I bat him away, he bounces back again like this is a game.
Most other men would have been neutralized by now, but since he’s a Malone soldier, and I became “friends” with the Malones during our road trip, I’m led to believe killing him would be distasteful.
Tell him to fuck off. I have no interest in teaching him, and I’m running out of patience with his sticky fingers all over my shit. It’s pissing me off.
Me:
I told him to find a new hobby. Hang on a sec.
I lock my screen and stumble forward, clipping my hip on the edge of one of those permanent trash cans the public gets to use, then, crying out, I fall to my knees just two feet in front of a man in loose black shorts and a navy-blue shirt.
Dirty blond hair, muddy brown eyes, and thin lips.
Mihalis Salonen dives forward and grabs my arms.
“Miss? Are you okay?” He helps me to my feet, snatching up my dropped phone and extending it into the space between us. He keeps one hand wrapped around my biceps, brushing the nonexistent dirt from my shirt with the other. My hip. My fucking thigh. “Geez. That was a rough tumble. Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” I’m just a clumsy wench, intimidated by the handsome, devilish, and highly respected forty-something-year-old. “Yowza. Hurt my knee, though.”
“Your knee?” He takes my weight and steers me toward a bench seat about fifteen feet along the path.
Helping me sit, he lowers into a crouch and makes himself entirely too fucking comfortable examining my knee.
“Oh wow. Looks like this isn’t your first time falling.
” He glances up from beneath long, wispy lashes. “Stitches?”
I force a blush onto my cheeks, warm those fuckers, and flirt. “Had them removed just this week. I’m such a klutz.”
“Miss?” Harrison meanders forward, a single questioning brow lifted high on his forehead. “I saw you fall. Are you okay?”
“She’s fine.” Salonen glances up at the man he considers a nosy bystander and fakes a smile. “I got it, bud.”
Harrison’s eyes swing back to mine. “Miss?”
“I feel like such a spectacle,” I giggle. I fucking giggle! “Two lovely gentlemen have stopped to help me, when all I really want to do is disappear. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” Salonen caresses the side of my knee, stroking with the pad of his thumb.
“These things happen. It’s too warm to be running this morning, anyway.
” He completely ignores Harrison, staring up into my eyes and flashing what he probably assumes is a charming grin.
“There’s a coffee shop just one block over.
I would love to take you there and buy you a cold drink.
They do great protein smoothies, and I can attest they set a man up for an entire day at work.
No three o’clock slump.” He stands and straightens his back, angling himself in such a way that he effectively locks Harrison out. “I insist.”
“Oh, gosh.” I move to my feet and pat his big, strong—barfy—chest. “You’re the sweetest.”
“So it’s a yes?”
“It’s a no.” I sigh, exaggerating the sound and emptying my lungs until my shoulders slump. “I was just finishing up, since I have an early meeting for work.”
His smile drops into a pout. “That’s too bad.”
“It really is. But—” I unlock my phone and offer it his way. I sure freakin’ hope Soph is listening and not texting right now. It would be awkward if he saw his own name move across the top of the screen. “Maybe you could give me your number?”
I make a show of scanning his left hand for a wedding ring.
Ironically, I know the prick is married. But his lack of a ring allows me to broaden my smile. “I haven’t lived in Copeland for very long, and the people I work with are…” I lean a little closer, snickering, “Total bores.”
“It would be my honor to show you around sometime.” He tap-tap-taps at my screen, entering his name and number, and before I can think to stop him, he dials so he has mine, too. Soph better fix that! “I’ll call you. Maybe this afternoon or something?” He offers my phone back. “If you’re available…”
“Ya know what?” I beam, bright and a little flirty. “I might be. We’ll touch base later, and if I’m able to shuffle a few things around, maybe you could… I dunno…” I shyly tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “Ask me out to dinner or something?”
“You can expect my call.” He extends his hand into the space between us. “Mihalis.”
“Ohh… a derivative of Michael!” I accept his hand and shake. But not too firm. Some men don’t like that. “A strong name, indeed.”
“And you are?”
“A goof,” I giggle. “And awkward at the best of times. I’m sorry. My name is Hillary. Hillary Harrison.”
Poor, poor unhappy Mr. Harrison bristles behind me.
“Hillary.” Mihalis brings my knuckles to his lips. “I look forward to our afternoon together. I hope you manage to shuffle whatever it is you need to shuffle to ensure we meet again.” Lowering our hands, he glances past me and glowers. “It’s kinda weird you’re still here, dude.”
I peek over my shoulder and smirk. “You can go, sir. I appreciate you stopping to help me, though.”
“Mm.” Harrison flattens his lips, his eyes firing with potent, bottled-up rage. But at least he starts walking, circling me and my date, and continues along the path lining the bay. Though he only goes twenty feet before stepping left.
He’s a bear trap, and I’m about to have a sore foot.
Worse, he takes out his phone. Snitch.
“I really must go, Mihalis. But it’s been a long time since someone genuinely nice came along, helping a stranger for the sake of helping.
” I press my hand to his arm and pat-pat-pat.
“I’ve had a rough week. Like,” I choke on a laugh, a genuine one this time.
“A really rough week. You’ve given me the first true reason to smile since Tuesday. ”
“It’s my pleasure.” He steps around me and stares longingly at my lips. Like this rat bastard thinks I would allow him to touch them. Ever. “I’ll see you soon, Hillary.”
“You sure will.” I twirl a lock of hair around my finger and blush, blush, blush. “Soon.”
I turn on my heels and continue along the path, unlocking my phone and using the reverse camera to secretly watch him go. The moment I pass Harrison’s lame hiding place, I roll my eyes and go back to texting Soph. “You would’ve been terrible at playing hide-and-seek.”
“That’s okay. You’re a terrible flirt in general.” He folds into step on my left, his shoulder brushing mine, and his eyes rudely going to my phone screen.
I tilt it away, robbing him of the chance to read my words.
“That man is old enough to be your father, Chief Mayet, and if he wasn’t so blinded by his lust for a much younger woman, he would’ve noticed the contempt in your eyes.
” He grabs my arm and yanks me off one path and onto another, except now, we’re heading toward the street.
“Is Detective Malone aware you hit on men on Friday mornings at the bay?”
“Oh, I’m sure he is.” I tear myself from his grasp and shoot accusatory eyes toward the phone gripped in his hand. “I’m sure Detective Malone knows every time I eat. Sleep. Breathe. Do you know what’s worse than a bad flirt, Mr. Harrison?”
He digs his hands into his pockets and produces a set of keys, beeping the shiny black SUV open as we approach.
“A snitch,” I bite out. “A dirty rotten snitch is worse. It’s ironic you would lower yourself to such disrepute, considering Mr. Malone sent me away, which means he probably doesn’t need, nor want, a play-by-play of my day.”
“Until I’m ordered otherwise, I’ll continue my running tally of everything you get up to.
” He grabs me again, more comfortable than he was just two days ago, and steers me toward the car.
“I know who that man was, by the way. Mihalis Salonen is on the list of men you have no business going anywhere near.”
“It’s cute you think you get to dictate where I go and with whom I associate.” I climb into the back seat, since my task is, in fact, complete, and, checking my texts, I find a couple from Soph.
Soph:
That was smooth… all except for your audience.
Nice job connecting the phones. Now I’ve got a bug with him everywhere he goes.
Though I hardly think following him is necessary now that the esteemed Chief Hillary Harrison is out here batting her lashes and leading the horny prick by his nose hairs.
Shuffle your affairs and confirm your date. This one’s gonna be easy.
P.S. It’s day two since your last infusion, which means you should take one of those pills I sent you. We can’t start the trial until you actually swallow the medicine.
Me:
Pass. But you should know I slipped one in my purse before my meeting with Abate last night. I figured if something really shitty happened and I needed Factor, I was willing to take a chance and hope for the best.
Soph:
That’s an improvement on your previous stance of ‘fuck no’. Don’t bother with the hospital tonight. Start the trial.
“No need for the hospital,” I grumble under my breath. My fridge is stocked with the wildly, insanely overpriced medication I need to live.
Harrison brings the SUV away from the curb and meets my eyes in the rear-view mirror. “You say something, Chief?”
“Talking to myself.” I cross my legs and stare down at my phone. We’re not in Jamaica anymore, which means I have no fresh rocks in my inbox. But I have a message from Aubree.
I’m coming back to work Monday.
And another from Raquel:
My neck hurts, and I’ve developed what appears to be a hunched back. My workload is unreasonable, and also, Doctor Campbell’s brother is still available if we wish to bring him on staff. Just thought I’d throw that out there.
Ignoring both, I spy Cato’s name in bold lettering and gulp.
I know you put on a date dress last night, asshole. And I also noticed stubble rash on your neck when you got back.
I’m not saying I meant to look that close, but a man sees what a man sees, and I STG, you’re breaking my heart. I love you, and I love my brother.
I’ll love you both a whole lot more together.
If you’ve so much as SMILED at another motherfucker, this entire city will burn. Don’t be the reason we all die.
Shaking my head, I navigate back to my texts with Soph and quickly type:
No to the pills. Yes to dealing with Mihalis Salonen. Double yes to you getting the tech stuff upgraded at the George Stanley. The faster, the better. I’m heading home and getting ready for work. Talk later.