Chapter 21 #5
“I split because Cordoza fucking told me to! He said she was at risk, and word of what she’d done was making the city unstable.
That I had to create space to spare her from retaliation, since, in this instance, she’s being considered a Malone acting against another family, not an independent person who killed a man.
I’m not Aubree, so I don’t get to feel people’s feelings, and I’m not you, so I can’t just listen in on private conversations.
I’m running with the only information I have, and in my spare time, I’m hunting these—”
Stunned by my own stupidity, I snap my lips closed and stop breathing. Stop moving. I sure as fuck stop speaking, and if I could, I would choose this moment to stop existing.
“Hunting these, what?” She’s a tomcat, and I’m the foolish mouse trapped in a tight corner. “Hunting what, Detective?”
“Nothing.”
“Mihalis Salonen,” she breathes. “Hildebrand Dirkse. Lindon Tsiklauri. Zikmund Melvin. Even Poul Abate. Fuck, you knew she was looking for them, so you swept them up and took them out of play.”
“I’m not willing to comment on—”
“Am I speaking to Detective Malone right now? Or Archer Malone, the son of a mobster?”
“Soph—”
“Did you put them on planes and whisk them into protective custody, saving them from a painful—and beautiful—death by the vigilante? Or did you give them the ol’ Malone one-two? One swipe of your blade to their lungs makes it so they can’t run. Another swipe to the eyes makes it so they can’t see.”
Why does she sound impressed by the latter? And why the fuck do I let her hang out with the one woman on the planet I want to keep safe?
“You killed them,” she decides, smug in her conclusion. “Alive and in custody means they can talk, and cop or not, you’re your father’s son. You know better than to allow such a silly loose thread to blow in the breeze. I gotta say, Detective. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be,” I bite out. “None of this would be necessary if not for yo—”
“You know that’s a lie.” She hums in the back of her throat, entirely too pleased with the direction of our conversation.
“The vigilante existed long before Minka and I were on a first-name basis. I didn’t bring this war to her, Detective.
I just happened to meet her on the front line.
Turns out we share the same thirst for a pedophile’s painful demise. ”
“Sophia—”
“She’s gonna do whatever she wants to do, no matter our opinion on the subject.
But I make hunting safer for her. I make it so she’s got a soldier, or several soldiers, watching every step she takes.
I caution you to find some respect when you speak to me, Detective. I’m an ally you’ll want to keep.”
“I can tell you to go fuck a cactus, and you still wouldn’t pull your troops away. I can say whatever the fuck I want. You’ll watch her back, regardless.”
“True.” She exhales a soft, whimsical sigh. “She’s my sister now, too, and you already know what I do for my family. But that doesn’t mean I can’t mess with you on the side.”
I narrow my eyes and stare straight ahead at the end of the movie, as the credits roll onto the screen and music flows with each line of text. “Mess with me how?”
“It’s department policy within the Copeland City P.D. to have two years experience as an officer before you’re eligible for promotion, right?”
“I did my two years in uniform. I did more than two years before I stepped up.”
“Yeah, but it sure would be a shame if it turns out your promotion was a clerical error,” she snickers.
“Computers are notoriously buggy, and if, hypothetically, it turned out your file only has eighteen months of documented time in uniform, it would be Lieutenant Fabian’s duty to pop you back down to the street, wouldn’t it?
Gotta get those hours up, champ. Make sure all the i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed. ”
I slide my tongue along the front of my teeth, anything to trap my vicious words deep inside my throat. When that doesn’t help, I grab my hair and pull. I pull so fucking hard, I risk scalping myself.
And when that doesn’t help, I tug the phone away from my ear and kill our call.
I’m not going back into a fucking uniform just so she can flex her muscles and play big daddy, and I can’t find a single kind thing to say to her.
So I lock the screen and slump back against the couch cushions.
I tilt my head to the left and stare at my wife.
My beautiful, stubborn, too fucking daring for her own good, too fragile for this world, wife.
I study her long lashes and her pale cheeks.
The dark shadows under her eyes, and her penchant, even when she’s unconscious, to grip my shirt and breathe me into her lungs.
Did Cordoza set us up? And if he did, why? What does he want, and what does he achieve by keeping me and Minka apart?
My phone beeps with an incoming text. Then a second. A third.
Scowling, I pick up the device and scan Soph’s messages.
You’re so sensitive! I won’t put you back in uniform. Geez!
Not when it would be so much more fun to send your resumé over to the local mall. They’re looking for security officers, just FYI.
I’m striking Salonen, Dirkse, Tsiklauri, Melvin, and Abate off our list. You don’t even have to tell me where you put them. I don’t give a fuck.
I do, however, wanna know who is encrypting the communications between you and them. If it’s Harrison, have him call me. I was led to believe his tech expertise was subpar at best.
He’s no Sophia Solomon, but he did something, and that something was effective enough to shove me five steps to the left and force me to deal with that instead of what was happening right under my nose.
I won’t kill him.
Probably.
But when someone comes along and messes with me, I like to give them the respect they deserve, a seat at my desk, and a chance to show me what else they can do. After that, I decide if I’ll kill them or keep them.
As for Cordoza, I’m not ready to call him on this. He’s playing chess, and for the last week, we’ve been playing checkers. Give me a minute to figure this out, then we’ll discuss it.
In the meantime, stop making Minka cry! It’s weird and emotional, and feelings creep us both out. Upset her again, and I’m gonna go with the surprise death thing. It’s always my preference anyway.
Also, nudge her toward the pills. I’m 99.999% sure they’ll work exactly as designed. Imagine a world where she didn’t have to strap herself up to a needle every second night!?
I glance along her toned body, her long, lean thighs, and her shorts, since she turned, riding a little high and showing off more than I would allow anyone else to see.
I don’t know if I want to imagine a life where every second night is just… normal, and not a chance for her to sleep like this. To curl up and ignore the world. To pull my shirt over her mouth and breathe air filtered with the scent of my aftershave.
I don’t want to take this away from her… from me…
Soph:
Don’t worry about the .001%. Statistically, it won’t bother us. Isn’t basic math fun!?
I’m officially done with her. Rolling my eyes, I toss my phone and carefully slide out from beneath Minka’s feet, then coming around to the front of the couch, I scoop her up and breathe her perfect scent all the way to the base of my lungs.
Her arms dangle, and her ear rests over my heart, just like it always does.
She smacks her lips and curls against me, exactly how I like her.
“Come on, Minnnka.” I press a kiss to her forehead and allow the contact to linger for a long beat. Two. Three. Exhaling and pulling back, I study her peaceful expression and know I have to fix what I broke.
Starting now.
“It’s time for bed, beautiful.”