Minka
MINKA
“ I think we should go over there and see them in person.” I pace my kitchen and burn under the heated stare of two separate Malones. The third, of course, is next door, running his bar and probably stalking Aubree while she eats. While the final two live in New York and exist in a way wholly different to how we do it here.
I stop by the fridge and glance across at twin expressions. There’s more than a decade between them in age, but the more Cato grows and spends time with Archer, the more their DNA proves their biological connection. “Stop looking at me like that! Say something intelligent.”
“I think the intelligent thing would be to call him at eight,” Archer rumbles. “Which was the plan. He needs time to settle Jada in, and get Moo to bed. And he needs a minute to come down from his day from hell. Us turning up at his door is gonna make a mess.”
“Because you won’t be able to hide the expressions your face makes when you’re near that chick?” Cato turns just his head and studies Archer. He hasn’t met Jada. In fact, I’m not entirely sure anyone has even discussed her in great detail in all the months he’s been here. Because she was either in rehab or spiraling. But most of all, she isn’t directly in Fletch’s life.
Out of sight. Out of mind.
“She cheated on your best friend and fucked his colleague in his home. On their couch. And he caught them?” He folds his arms, just like Archer does, and scratches his jaw. Though his is far smoother than that of his brother’s. “That’s dirty and mean. She deserves to have his friends look at her like she’s shit on the ground.”
“Hardly a supportive way to treat someone trying to beat addiction,” Archer rumbles. “She needs help. Not to be stomped on.”
“She had help! She had the luxury of attending rehab, when many others can’t, and she was given somewhere to stay when she got out. She had the tools to get clean, but instead of doing better, she abused her daughter and treats everyone else like shit.”
“So now we vote to toss her on her ass and lock the doors?” Archer scrubs a hand over his face and releases a long, tired groan. “I’m mad at her too, okay? What she did was fucked up. The way she treats everyone is wrong, and her complete lack of accountability is bullshit. She screws with my best friend, over and over and over again, and my ability to keep that rage in check is growing weaker every single day. But I need you to cool off and have her back. Someone has to keep this situation balanced.”
“No. I think we should go over there.” I head toward the door and yank my coat from the rack. “We’re not there to cause trouble. And she’s injured, so it’s not like I’m gonna pick a fight. I just want to see inside that apartment for a few minutes and make sure things are under control the way they’re supposed to be.”
“You going over there is gonna aggravate the situation.” For the first time in his life, Cato becomes a voice of reason. Sort of… “I’m not opposed to stirring some shit up. In fact, I think I get some kind of a psychological thrill out of instigating fights and pissing people off. But if your goal is to calm things down for Fletch, then going over there right now while he’s mediating a tense situation isn’t gonna have the effect you think it is.”
“Going over there is gonna end with me and my best friend throwing hands,” Archer growls. “I won’t mean for it to be that way. But he’s gonna defend her until his dying breath. And I’m the asshole who’s gonna call her out and maybe not be as delicate as he wants me to be.”
“So control yourself!” I slip my arms into the sleeves and pull my coat on. “You’re a grown man, Archer. Regulate your emotions.”
“He’s also a Malone,” Cato sniggers. “And I’m pretty sure Malones lack that switch when someone they care about is being screwed with. Besides,” he pushes away from the couch and swaggers my way. “Remember that thing I said about stirring shit up? I’m only eighteen. Still a kid not all that long ago. Means my emotional regulation switch isn’t completely developed yet. I’m gonna walk in and call his ex a trashy whore. I doubt that’ll be the start of a fruitful conversation. ”
“For god’s sake.” My entire body trembles from the rage vibrating through my veins. But then Archer’s phone trills. Like a siren in the night. He reaches into his pocket and snags the device. While between his legs, our slutty cat plops down to curl up as close to him as possible. “If that’s Fletch, hang up and drive us over there instead.”
My teeth snap together as he makes a show of swiping to answer, then setting his call on speaker and grinning.
“Hey Fletch. Everything okay over at your place?”
“Here you go, Doc.” Cato grabs my coat and peels it off, forcing me to simmer and stay, even when I’d rather we were already moving. “We don’t siege someone’s castle till we’re ready for war.”
“Things are okay,” Fletch answers. Tired. Sighing. “Mostly okay. You got time to talk the Wallace case through now?”
“You got the headspace to talk the Fletcher thing through first?” Archer crosses the room, phone in one hand, and snags mine with the other. He leaves his little brother by the door, holding my coat, and leads me into the kitchen instead. He sets the phone on the counter, then he grabs me by the hips and boosts me up to sit beside the device—no arguments. “Because I guess I was probably a little snappy earlier. And you need me to have your back.” He settles between my legs, forcing me to hug him. To rest on him while he rests on me. “How are you?”
“Shit.” Fletch gentles his voice, so in my mind, I wonder if he’s checking in on a sleeping Mia. Then he carefully closes a door so the air changes to something a little more echo-y. “My daughter is confused, Arch. Not only is her mom back, but she’s had the absolute fucking guts kicked out of her. The bruising is getting worse every hour, and Jada’s mood is getting…”
Meaner.
Darker.
Desperate.
“I dunno, man. She really wants to change this time. I know you don’t believe it because we’ve been living with this for a couple of years already. But the woman I saw in the hospital is not the same woman we know.”
“If you think this is the best choice, then it’s the best choice.” Archer exhales, so his warm breath bathes my scalp. Then he sets his hands on my thighs and pulls them in tighter, so I have no choice but to crush him between them. “I’m sorry for not being totally on board earlier.”
“Thanks…” The sound of a toilet seat closing echoes through the call. Then an exhale as he sits and the crackle of his stubble as he scrapes his ha nd over the coarse hair. “She’s sleeping now. And Mia’s in my bed. She’s not out yet, but she’s close.”
“What about you? You gonna sleep?”
He chuckles. Though the sound comes with absolutely no humor. “I hope so. My brain is fuckin’ fried after today. How can something that isn’t physical labor completely wipe a man out so easily?”
“Because mental loads are intrinsically heavier,” I murmur, outing myself as part of this conversation. Silence hangs and tension grows to the same beat as my heart. “Sorry, Fletch I’m listening in.”
“Would’ve been surprised if you weren’t, Delicious. You up to date on all the drama yet?”
“I got the highlights. You doing okay?”
He blows out a gusting breath. “I’m doing . That’s all I can muster at the moment. Remember a little while back, before you and Arch got hitched that first time, and you found out Mia even existed?”
“When you walked in with a cute little girl who smelled a little bit funky, but her heart was so pure, I decided I could change my stance on hating all children?” I release a small, quiet laugh. “What about it?”
“Remember when I asked you to marry me? Because you were drama free and pretty solid. You had that thing going on with Arch, but I had a daughter who needed a mommy, and you had that medical degree which made it so I could sleep easier at night knowing we wouldn’t have to worry about much of anything for as long as you were around. Have you reconsidered your stance on that?”
I run my fingers through Archer’s hair, scratching his scalp and grinning when his eyes meet mine. “I’m kinda committed over here, Detective Fletcher. Sorry.”
“Figures. And Aubs?”
“It’s the Malone effect, I think. Doctors for douchebags.” I press a kiss to Archer’s forehead, a kind of oops, sorry that only makes him smirk. “It’s a thing. But I bet I could find you someone worthy if you give me a few months and a lobotomy.”
Chuckling, he sits back on his toilet and groans as he finds a comfortable position. “Why do you need to scramble your brains for this?”
“Because playing matchmaker requires speaking to people. And that’s,” I wrinkle my nose, “that’s not really my thing. I suppose I could have Aubs set up an online dating account for you. Swiping left and right isn’t a huge time suck, is it?”
“It’s really easy,” Cato inserts, joining the conversation and informing Fletch of his entire audience. “I don’t even look at their profiles. Swipe right. Swipe right. Swipe right.” He leaves my coat on the rack and wanders closer to the counter. “Three in every five will send me a picture of her tits before I even say hello. It’s those other two you wanna pay attention to. One will be crazy. The other, your future wife.”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you.” I press my palm to his forehead and shove him away when he attempts to lean closer. “There was a step skipped during evolution. A coding malfunction and the perfect storm of imperfect DNA that somehow led to you.”
“You’re a hurtful person, Doctor Cutie. Why do you insist on breaking my heart?”
“Mine too,” Fletch murmurs. “Won’t even marry a desperate man?”
“I did. Twice. And I haven’t been married long enough for a fifty percent claim on assets. So I’m gonna have to stick it out in this one for a little longer.”
“I screwed up, guys.” Finally turning serious, Fletch groans. “Really bad.”
“With Jada?”
“With Sera.”
Stunned, my heart stumbles as I pull back from Archer and hold his stare. “What happened with Seraphina?” I pick up the phone and bring it closer, like that’ll somehow help me hear him better. “When?”
“Tonight. She came to my apartment. She had a toy for Mia, and a stern talking to for me.”
Archer grits his teeth and communicates a thousand words in a single look.
“I told her to fuck off. And said some shit about her mom and her trauma.”
“What? Fletch!”
“I called her some names. I don’t even…” He shakes his head. “I don’t even remember everything I said anymore. She caught me off guard and my feelings were already hurt.”
“So you lashed out,” Archer guesses. “And hurt her feelings in return.”
“She brought a gift for my baby,” he sighs. “In fact, she’s brushed my daughter’s hair more times this year than Jada has. She’s eaten more meals with her. Spent more time with her. She’s a prickly know-it-all who can’t hardly bend, for fear she’ll snap the stick up her ass. But she shows how she cares with her actions.”
“She’s a fluffer…” The words tumble along my tongue and out to sit between the four of us without my permission. And with them, my brows pi nch tight. “She’s mean and rude and insufferable. But she takes care of the arrangements. She expresses her feelings through actions, since clearly she lacks the ability to communicate without coming across as…”
“Prickly,” Cato offers with a grin. “Mean.”
“She came to us,” Fletch sighs. “To express how she cares. And in repayment, I took her innermost traumas and slapped her in the face with them. Because I’m an asshole.”
“Jada’s always been your trigger.” Archer takes the phone from my hand and sets it back down, purely to free up space and press his forehead to my clavicle. “Always. She’s the reason you and I argue. She’s gonna be the reason you and any woman you’re with in the future will fight.”
“It shouldn’t be like that. I should be able to cool my shit and communicate respectfully, no matter who she’s talking about.”
“You got the Malone genes too,” Cato teases. “It’s okay. We’re all brothers here. I mean, you’re the ugly step sibling nobody really wants. But you’re here anyway, because my dad fucked your mom. It happens.”
I turn to the youngest of five and present him a look that promises retribution if he doesn’t back the hell up and shush soon.
Then I look away and focus on Fletch instead. “So you and Fifi had your thing. Do I need to worry about her tonight? As her employer, and, or, as her friend? Or was it a regular sized fight, and she’s gonna go home to slap on a moisturizing mask and cuss you out?”
“Probably the second.” The rustle of his shirt tells me he shrugs. “She’s got Kevlar shields all over, Delicious. I doubt there’s much I can say that’ll hit too hard.”
Funny. Because I think beneath the Kevlar is a heart that hurts most of all when those she cares about treat her poorly.
Her mother was an abusive jerk, and her sense of self-importance was dinged a time too many in her formative years.
“Can we discuss the case?” he changes the subject. “For the love of god, can we just talk work so I can ignore all the rest?”
“I watched the tapes from the haunted house this afternoon,” Archer murmurs, running his hands along my thighs to create a rhythmic pattern that warms my skin. “It’s the looping kind of system, so we catch five minutes of the kitchen. Five minutes of the living room. Five of the porch. That kinda thing. We caught the whole thing, but it wasn’t really anything that’ll help us.”
“Which is ironic,” I insert, “considering it’s rare you get a homicide on camera. ”
“The four of them walked in. Mason and Naomi. Brent and Kallie. Each couple was intertwined with their partner. Easy familiarity and affection shown between them. The girls were chatty at certain points. The guys talked to each other. Naomi’s hand went to her stomach thirteen times in the five-minute clip of that section of the house. She was holding her belly tenderly, which Stokes says is an indication of protection and love.”
Curious, I pull back and search his emerald gaze. “Stokes?”
“Psych consult,” Fletch answers. “He reads people and gives us that psychological take. So he’s concluded the baby was wanted.”
“Unplanned,” Archer agrees. “But very much wanted. For a girl who found out approximately three weeks prior, her psyche jumped in and her maternal instincts immediately became about protecting the fetus. Which was proven again as the knife came down; she saw the threat coming and turned to the side, ensuring her stomach was safe.”
“So the four of them are walking the haunted house together,” Fletch recites. “Everyone is happy.”
“Well, Naomi was creeped out. And Mason was, at some points, sympathetic and happy to hold her. And at other parts, humored by her fear.”
“What does Stokes have to say about that?” Cato plops his ass on the counter across from mine and joins a conversation he has no part in. “Big strong boyfriend is laughing at his scared girlfriend. That screams sociopath, no?”
“You taking a psych class on the side for extra credit?” I lean around Archer and purse my lips. “What degree are you actually working on, Cato?”
He pulls a face, smirking and playful. “Whichever degree doesn’t send me nuts while I wait for the Condors to draft me. In the meantime, I sat Econ 101 this morning. And Psych 304.”
“ Three-oh-four ?” I close my eyes and practically deflate into the cabinetry. “You’re not even allowed in those classes. You’re wasting everyone’s time and money!”
“Mostly Micah’s money,” he smarts. “And Micah’s practically printing it, so I doubt he’s mad that I’m taking extra classes.”
“The extra classes don’t count toward anything! You don’t get credit for them, dummy.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t spend my brainpower on something other than market elasticity. Do you know how fucking boring that shit is?”
“We’re heading to Copeland U in the morning,” Archer interjects for Fletch. “If you can’t swing it and get away from your apartment, I can do it alone. If you wanna come, I’d love to have you. ”
“I’ll come. Mia will be in school, and I already need space from Jada.”
“Apart from the Fifi stuff, is Jada giving you a hard time?”
“She’s mostly been sleeping.” He brings his hand up and noisily scratches at the stubble on his chin. “She’s got a whole drug-store worth of pain relief here. Which is a giant fucking oops on the hospital’s part, if you ask me. I told them about her addiction history and upcoming rehab stay, but they still gave her fistfuls and a ‘ be a good girl ’ spiel. She’s got a dozen broken bones and needs the pills, so she can’t go without, but now I’m holding onto them, doling them out on a timed schedule. Which makes me feel like the world’s biggest asshole, like I’m forcing her to perform to earn the pills.”
“You’re doing the best you can,” I murmur. “If she’s given the lot to handle on her own, the chances of an OD greatly increase. She won’t be able to help herself, because pain and exhaustion do things to even the healthiest of minds.”
“Yeah, well, her pain and exhaustion are fucking with my mind, too. She’s trying really hard, Delicious. It’s like her run in with Booth has finally made her realize her life needs to change. But everywhere I turn, I’m being met with my friends questioning my sanity. Or Sera calling me out. Or Jada herself, eyeing the bag of pills when she thinks I’m not looking.”
“She’s an addict. She can’t help but stare at that bag. You’re helping her by managing it on her behalf.”
“And the friends thing,” Archer inserts. “Is just us checking in to make sure you’re okay. I didn’t mean to be a dick on the phone earlier.”
“It’s just habit,” Fletch sighs. “We all know what she is, so you’re questioning it the same way I questioned you about having Cato in your home.”
“Hey!” Cato scowls. “What did I ever do to you?”
Archer and I both look at the youngest Malone.
“Okay, so I might be related to some shady motherfuckers. And sometimes I like to date. Like, super-duper casually. But I never do drugs. We sell them,” he leers. “Only dummies take them.”
“Are we hearing the irony right now?” Fletcher growls. “My ex-wife is a drug addict, dickhead. And you’re a dealer. Drug addicts don’t become addicts unless they have a dealer putting product into their hands.”
“Point,” Cato acknowledges. “But just so we’re all on the same page: I, personally, sell nothing. I don’t even give out samples. And before you talk shit about Lix, which, frankly, is not something I tolerate, he, too, cleaned house. You could toss some shade at our father for contributing to a person’s addiction, but that dude is dead. So… ”
“So you claim innocence,” Fletch growls, “despite the world you come from.”
“Born into it doesn’t mean I condone it.” He shrugs. “I was born a Malone, just as I was born with black hair and a giant cock. It wasn’t my fault.”
“We’re done with this conversation.” Archer turns and snags the phone, and although he takes the call off speaker, he holds it between us both so I can still hear. “I don’t have any new information on the Wallace case. Only theories. We’ll test those theories out tomorrow while we’re at the college. You should try to rest tonight, okay?”
“Rest,” he chuckles. Though the sound is desperate and sad, at best. “Right.”
“You gotta sleep, man. Go to bed and snuggle in with Moo. Turn the TV on if you have to. But you need eight hours horizontal. I’ll drop by in the morning and pick you both up. We can drive her to school together, then we’ll head to Copeland U.”
“Will you drive me too?” Cato drops off the edge of the counter and hits the floor with a slap of his shoes. “Since we’re going in the same direction.”
“No.” Archer drags his eyes from mine and glances over his shoulder. “You need the walk to think through your actions and learn to regulate your dumb self.” Then he brings his focus back around. “Get some rest, Fletch. Tomorrow will be better.”
“Fine.” He inhales noisily and fills his lungs. Then he exhales and stands again, so the movement of a plastic toilet seat echoes through our call. “I’m having a shower and climbing into bed with my baby. I’ll see you in the morning. G’night, Delicious.”
My face warms, because in all of this drama, he seems to find comfort in my presence. “Goodnight, Detective. Be kind to yourself.”
He scoffs. “Sure thing. Night, Archer.”
“Yep. Goodnight.” Archer taps his screen to make it light up, then he presses his thumb to the red icon and kills the call. “Jesus. What a mess.”
“Um, excuse me. Hi.” Cato steps around to stand in my peripherals. “He didn’t get time to tell me goodnight.”
“He wasn’t gonna. And right now, I think I should take my own advice and head to bed.” Archer slips his hands beneath my thighs and picks me up. So easily. So smoothly. Humming his pleasure when my arms automatically go around his neck. “It’s only eight, Mayet. So I’d say it’s time we turn the TV on in the room and get some rest. ”
I narrow my eyes and smile as he leaves his brother behind and walks into the hall. “We don’t have a TV in the room.”
“Don’t we?” He nips at my bottom lip and crosses the threshold. “Shit, babe. Guess I’m gonna have to find something else to concentrate on.” He kicks the door closed and stops at the end of our bed. Then he drops me, smirking when I fall onto the mattress and the covers puff up around me. “I could focus on your tits.” He climbs over me and begins unbuttoning my blouse. “Or your belly button. Which is kind of an innie, but kind of an outtie.” He spreads my shirt wide to expose my stomach, then he bites at my skin, just rough enough to draw a tiny squeal from the back of my throat. “It’s my duty, as your husband, to inspect every inch of your body. To ensure all is as it should be.”
“It’s strange for us to be home, and in bed, so early on a non-infusion night.”
He flicks the button of my pants open and drags the zipper down. “Married life.” He rolls his eyes, though the action is all for show. “Time for us to settle down and pick our favorite Golden Girl, don’t you think?”
“I don’t…” I was following along. Playing. But now my brain sticks to that one point and steals what was heading toward fun. “What’s a Golden Girl?”
He tears my pants down, grinning and shaking his head. “We’ll get a TV in the room some other day and I’ll show you. Now pay attention to me.”
“So needy.”