Chapter 12
MINKA
If I pretend Justin never called today, I can go on with my evening exactly how I planned from the start: Alone. With Archer. And if I feel like it, I might even dedicate a minute or two to Steve and Cato if we happen to pass in the halls.
If I make a point not to drop by the liquor store, then I couldn’t possibly attend Justin’s dinner empty-handed.
It would be rude!
It makes complete sense, really. And being so horribly rude to a host, especially one as important and fancy as the mayor, would be a grave mistake.
So, no liquor store. No dinner. No troubles.
Easy.
I step into the elevator and spin back to study the chaos that is the ninth floor. Preston Danes is not a man who values a tidy workspace, which means cardboard packaging litters the floor, and random bits of blue and red wiring cut-offs are everywhere.
I’m not sure we’ll ever be rid of them.
“See you at dinner, Chief.” Soph hovers on the threshold of my office, her shoulder pressed to the glass pane, her arms folded, one foot kicked over the other, and a wicked smirk teasing her lips. “I’m excited.”
I smack the close-door button with fast, frenzied taps. “Sorry. I think I have a cold coming on. I don’t feel well.” Cough, cough. “It would be bad manners to sit at another man’s dinner table while I’m spreading germs.”
Before she can open her mouth and spit out an annoying retort, the doors blissfully close between us.
Thank you, Jesus. I fix the straps of my bag on my arm and ride the elevator all the way to the ground floor, then stepping out without paying a great deal of attention to where I’m going, I charge across the expansive lobby and keep my movements quick, just in case Soph decides today’s a good day to transform into a bat and flap her big dumb wings all the way down here so she can annoy me some more.
Timing my stride with the momentum of the rotating glass front doors, I step into the gap and follow them around until I’m on the sidewalk outside.
But where I expect my trusty knight—goes by the name of Theodore Harrison—I walk face-first into a Cheetos-dust-covered, stained-shirt-wearing, basement-dwelling irritant and the camera he shoves in my face.
And there are twenty more just like him crowding the sidewalk.
“Chief Mayet?” He smells of old fried donuts. “Reports coming out of New York say Gloria Donohue, the woman set to sit trial soon for her part in the Body-In-The-Bag killings, was found dead in her cell overnight.”
I skid to a stop as my brain short-circuits, turning rational thoughts into errant sparks. “What?”
“You were instrumental in not only ending a decades-long killing spree, Chief Mayet, but one of your earliest cases as a medical examiner was that of a Body-In-The-Bag victim. Do you have a comment about Gloria’s death?”
“Shit!” Harrison charges along the street and busts through the crowd, digging between me and Cheetos guy and shielding me from the cameras with his broad shoulders.
He wraps his hand around my arm and tugs me so hard, so fast, my feet leave the ground at least for a second.
“I’m sorry, Chief.” He drags me around the dozen people vying for a comment, then tearing the back door of a sleek black SUV open, he practically tosses me in.
Slamming the door shut, he strides to the driver’s side and starts the car, pulling away from the curb with a squeal of our tires.
“Please put your seatbelt on, Chief Mayet.” He swallows audibly.
Nervously. Fidgety. “I can’t continue to drive unless you buckle up, but stopping so soon will only become fodder for the six o’clock news. ”
Gloria Donohue is dead? That evil swine bitch who hand-selected and delivered little girls for her son to hurt… is dead?
“Chief?” Harrison drops his foot on the brakes and elicits angry honks from the cars around us. “Seatbelt. Please.”
Dazed, I reach around with a shaking hand and snag the silver catch of my seatbelt. Such a visual display of weakness would normally disgust me, but for as long as Lachlan Donohue’s face plays through my mind, I can’t find the energy to truly focus on it.
The instant I click myself in, Harrison has us moving again.
His muscular body vibrates with violence.
Maybe a little dread. Fear. “I’m sorry they got the jump on you, Chief.
I was on the phone with Mr. Malone, and the sun was boiling me alive, so I thought I could stand in the shade and…
” Frustrated, he shakes his head. “Fuck, Chief. I’m sorry.
I’ll speak to Archer as soon as we reach the house.
If you could give me just enough grace to call home, I’ll let my family know I won’t be back for a while, and then you—”
“Gloria Donohue is dead?” Why won’t my brain work? Why can’t I focus? And what the hell was he just saying? “Why do you need time to call your family?” I bring burning eyes to his in the mirror. “You can call them anytime you like. I’m not stopping you.”
“To… they…” He flexes his hands around the steering wheel. “In polite circles, we call it tendering our resignation, Chief.”
“Resignation?! Why? I don’t want to learn someone else’s name. I barely remember yours!”
“In our circles, it’s called never going home again,” he grits out. “How you describe this afternoon’s events will affect how this situation moves forward for me. I deserve no grace, Chief. But if you could—”
“Wait.” I draw a deep breath until it stretches my lungs, expands my chest, and fills my cheeks.
Then I let it all out again, noisy enough to fill the car with just that sound alone.
“Hang on. Are you… Are you hitting me with Mafia Speak right now? By resignation, do you actually mean termination? And by termination, you mean sleeping with the fishes?”
He nods.
No fanfare, no excuses, not even a plea for leniency.
“Yes, Chief.”
“Are you insane?!” I tear my bag open and snatch out my phone.
Unlocking the screen, I go to my text inbox and discover not just one, not even two or three, but five gifted rocks from Archer.
One every hour, on the hour, for the last five.
God, I love that man. I type a quick message requesting a callback when he has a second.
Because Gloria Donohue is dead! Hitting send, I bring my focus back up to a white-faced Harrison.
“No one’s going to kill you, so calm the hell down. ”
“You were ambushed!”
“So? If you truly cared about unprovoked attacks, you’d commandeer my electronics and filter out all communication from a man named Justin Lawrence.
He’s the bane of my existence, I swear.” I look down at my phone: no call yet.
“That idiot with a camera has been an irritation in my life for months already. In fact, you’re lucky you didn’t get too close, or he might’ve ruined your fancy suit with all the Cheetos dust on his fingers. ”
“This isn’t a joking matter, Chief!” For the first time, ever, Theodore Harrison steps past ‘oh, she’s cute when she doesn’t listen,’ and into ‘I’m sick of this bitch’s shit.
’ “My literal job is to shield you. Always. From all dangers, including the fat fucks who want a sound bite to play on the news. Instead of being by the car, which is where I should have been, I was hiding in the shade.”
“Because you wear a black three-piece suit in hundred-degree weather. In direct sunlight! I’m surprised you haven’t already passed out and smacked your head on the concrete.
I’m not tossing you into the ocean because Harold-from-the-basement got in my face for two seconds.
It’s not even something I’d think to tell the Malones about, so I don’t know why you’re freaking out so much. ”
“You don’t have to tell them,” he snarls. “My failure will literally be on national television in about ten minutes anyway.” He lowers his chin. “I’ll stand tall and accept whatever punishment Mr. Malone wishes to dole out. I choose honor over cowardice.”
“Good freakin’ lord.” I unlock my phone again and swipe to my call log. “Which Mr. Malone were you talking to when I came out?”
His eyes swing to mine in the rear-view mirror.
“And what were you talking about?”
“Felix,” he grits out, but then the fury in his tone turns to hesitation. “He actually called to inform me of Gloria Donohue’s death. He assumed this news would shock you.”
No shit it was shocking!
I tap Felix’s name and bring the phone to my ear. Holding Harrison’s gaze, I simultaneously loathe and take pleasure in the way his cheeks turn a deathly shade of gray. Not because I enjoy his fear, but because this whole thing is ridiculous.
“Doctor Mayet?” Felix answers on the third ring, the constant hum of a car’s engine playing through our call.
“Hi. Are you, uh…” Hesitant, he pauses for a beat.
“I know we had words yesterday, but you’re aware I love you, right?
I fuckin’ adore you. So if you’re mad at me, I’m sorry.
You and Soph can have New York. I don’t even care. ”
“Jesus. The sky is falling. You and I always have words, Felix. I’d be worried if we ever stopped.” I tip my head back and stare up at the ceiling. Gloria Donohue is dead! “Harrison’s currently having a conniption, just so you know.”
“He…” His breath comes to a sharp stop. Then, “What?”
“I came out of my building earlier than he was expecting, and because the big bad Mr. Malone was distracting him, I walked face first into the media assholes who get off on hounding me for a quote. Now he’s spinning out, because he thinks you’ll punish him for it.”
“He—”