Minka #2
“If you never knew her, you wouldn’t know how it feels to have someone like her crowding your coffee machine.
” He steps into my space, his thighs brushing mine, and his aftershave filling my lungs with something far more pleasant than city smog and car exhaust. “Aloneness might be a fun way to avoid all those pesky emotions. But don’t forget all the times you got to feel happy because of her.
Don’t forget how you realized your morning could be lighter, simply by her being around.
Loss is expected,” he murmurs. “It’s inevitable.
But love isn’t. And only a lucky few get to love hard enough that losing someone stings.
” He slides his thumb over the dimple in my cheek, his stare growing gentler with each passing second.
While we stand here, cocooned in our own little bubble, Copeland City continues to move around us.
Cars pass, a bus putters by, and pedestrians rush with their heads down and their arms pumping.
“The same goes for Steve. I hate that he’s getting old.
That you’re worrying. I hate seeing you hurt. But you know what I like?”
I suckle my bottom lip between my teeth, searching his beautiful emerald eyes. “What?”
“I enjoy seeing you walk downstairs each morning and stepping into his arms. I fucking love knowing that there are very, very few people on this planet whose touch you tolerate, and maybe I’m a jealous bastard who sometimes gets weird because I want to be the only one, but knowing you have Steve, too, that you can come to him and find comfort…
that’s special. So maybe he’ll die in ten years.
Maybe he’ll get sick, and sure, he’ll deteriorate.
Eventually. But not everyone gets those ten years in the first place.
” He leans in and presses a long, lingering kiss against the corner of my lips.
“Appreciate what you have now, because time will pass regardless. You may as well enjoy those ten years, not dread them.”
“That was thoughtful.” I drop my head forward, resting my forehead against his chest. “Deep.”
He chuckles, the rumbling vibration rolling straight from his broad body and into my nervous system.
“I have my days. Sometimes it’s shut the fuck up, you dunderhead, and other days, it’s embrace the romantic and blah blah blah.
I dunno.” He cups my face and pulls me back, staring down into my eyes.
“I can’t use it on command. But it’s there.
Hidden.” Grinning, he gifts me with one last peck on my lips, then he takes my hand and tugs me away from the wall.
“You have to go to work. I have to go to work.”
“Solve your homicide yet?”
“Nope. But I have a nasty, creeping suspicion about something I wanna check out at the station, and I’m kinda concerned if we don’t tie this up soon, Molly’s dad is gonna revisit the streets he ran when he was younger.”
“You think so?”
“That sort of shit is like being a Malone—it’s in your blood. It’s who you are in your soul. He got out because he had the drive, and maybe he had a damn good reason to be better. I got out, too. But when shit gets serious and your family is on the line…”
“You go back.” I wrap my arm around his and walk plastered against his side.
Because I remember how I felt when he hopped on a plane and left Copeland City without warning me.
When he returned to the family I thought would end his life…
or be the reason he never came back again.
“They seem like a nice family. Like they’ve worked hard to have a good life.
It would suck for it all to come tumbling down. ”
“My thoughts exactly.” He looks up at the towering George Stanley building as we cross from one block to the next. “I think Ben was a risk they were no longer willing to run. It’s not often I hope I’m wrong.”
“What’s your next step?” I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want to untangle our arms and walk into my building, to be separated for eight hours and a half dozen—or more—dead bodies. “What will you figure out at the station?”
“Molly’s interning at Channel Seventy-Nine for the summer.”
My lips curl into a displeased snarl. “Gross.”
“I’m gonna look over Molly’s socials again, make sure I’ve got my ducks in a row, then I have to talk to Miranda London.
If Molly so much as breathed a tidbit of information that could help move this case along, Miranda will have heard it, saved it, stored it away, and prepped it for the six o’clock news repeat. ”
“Because she’s a nasty cow. Dumb bitch would rather search for high school gossip than report on literally anything else with a modicum of journalistic respect or pride.”
Archer brings me all the way to the George Stanley, but he doesn’t walk me in. He doesn’t even inch closer to the cool air wafting from the revolving door. “Your jealousy turns me on, Chief. Just thinking about you tearing her face off because she and I have history makes me hard.”
“That’s the Malone in you.” I’m not pouting.
Ish. “I love you and all that, and we already discussed the arsenic ending, since I choose not to live without you, but there’s a part of you, a part of Cato, and Felix, and all the rest of you, that is just…
” I drop my shoulders back and huff. “Cracked.”
He smirks.
“And maybe that part of you is necessary to fill out the rest of you. Maybe I even like going to bed with that part, since it’s often deliciously deranged and all sorts of good. So good.” I release a breathy exhale. “I love all of you. But let’s not pretend you’re not at least a little unhinged.”
“That’s the part of me that runs the streets and belongs to a powerful family. A family with a reputation for fear and zero tolerance for disrespect. It takes care of the things the homicide detective side of me can’t, since rules slow a man down.”
“And you balance both facets with skill.” I push onto my toes and tap his bottom lip with my tongue. “Go do your thing, arrest your killer, and if you have time, deal with the dress stuff, too.” I lower to flat feet. “You know what size I am. You touch me all over every single day.”
“Which is my God-given right.” He pats my hip and takes a step back, flashing a flirty wink as he goes. “Be safe. Call me. Don’t get mad at me because I’m talking to Miranda.”
I gnash my teeth together and do exactly the opposite. “I’m gonna be pissed all day long. It’s like you’re cheating on me.”
His phone trills, prompting his hand to move around to his back pocket and retrieve the device.
He studies the screen, then swipes and accepts the call.
“Hang on a sec, Fletch.” He lowers his hand, but lifts his chin toward my building.
“Get into the cool. Don’t work too hard.
Drink some water. And I’m not cheating on you, so don’t hold on to that rage for too long. ”
I spite-sip my coffee and turn on my heels, timing my steps and trudging into the revolving door space before the glass pane slams into me.
I’ve walked this threshold a million times already, so my body knows what to do, even with a janky knee, so I peek over my shoulder and lock eyes with the most selfless man who ever lived.
He smirks and blows a kiss, then he brings his phone up and turns on his heels.
Guess I’m going to work then.
Exiting the door and locking eyes with the security guard—a different guard from last night—I nod in hello and turn toward the elevator.
But Donna sits in her chair again, her shoulders hunched and her head drooping.
She’s in a fresh outfit, with fresh hair; at least she left and came back again.
“Mrs. Beecroft.” I approach slowly, careful not to startle the old woman.
Swallowing, I come around an empty chair and sit on the edge, anything to get under her line of sight.
“You must be exhausted, Mrs. Beecroft. Surely there’s someone we can call for you. ”
Gaunt, she inches her shadowed gaze up. “Can you bring him here today? Could you make the hospital release him and—”
I sigh as frustration builds in my chest. No, I cannot have your husband transferred to my facility just because. And no, I can’t fit him into my already overflowing workload.
But even as my brain focuses on my irritation, my heart sympathizes with her grief.
Archer and I have made our plans; we’ve established our exit plan.
But if we hadn’t… if we didn’t have time to think ahead…
“I understand you want to be near Theo, Mrs. Beecroft.” I set my coffee on the small table and take her hands in mine.
They’re shaky and bony. Weak and with paper-thin skin.
“I’m married too, and I love my husband very, very much.
If I lost him the way you lost Theodore this week, I’m certain I wouldn’t handle it with nearly as much grace as you have.
I know this is hard, but if you let them, the social workers at the hospital will help you make arrangements for his end-of-life services.
They’ll get you the support you need during this awful time. ”
“End-of-life services.” Her chest and shoulders cave in on themselves. Her breath hitching and bouncing along her throat. “He isn’t supposed to be at his end-of-life, Doctor Mayet. It wasn’t time yet.”
It is time. His body said so.
“We didn’t have time to say goodbye,” she weeps. “We didn’t have time to discuss anything. It was just a Tuesday, like every other Tuesday.”
“Mrs. Beecroft—”
“People aren’t supposed to die on regular Tuesdays!
Not when we haven’t opened the mail yet.
Not when there’s still laundry in the machine and meat on the counter, because I was going to make cottage pie for dinner.
” Fat tears spill onto her sunken cheeks.
“You aren’t supposed to die when you have plans to watch a movie at the cinema, since Tuesdays are when seniors get discounted tickets and free popcorn.
Theo still had vitamins left in his pack, and I bought him a new shirt last week.
He didn’t even wear it yet.” She drags her hand from mine, hastily swiping her cheek.
“He didn’t wear it, because he said it was too nice for a regular day, so he was saving it for a special occasion.
” She releases a heaving, hiccupping breath.
“We had plans, Doctor Mayet. And now they’re just…
Now he’s gone. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. ”