Sinful Sorrow (Mayet Justice #13)

Archer

ARCHER

I wake the next morning to a bed already empty and the shower switching off. Which means I missed the window where I could join my wife.

With that opportunity gone, I rush out from under the sheets instead and into the hall so I can make her coffee.

If I don’t get to fuck her, then I feed and caffeinate her.

It’s a system that works.

I step out of the mouth of the hall and into our living room to find Cato already dressed for the day. The television is on, but instead of the news, he watches an old Knicks game on the sports channel.

He still looks like a kid when he’s not aware of an audience. His hair, shaggy and his mouth dropped open as he watches McBride sink a basket. His eyes, the same color as mine, though not the same shape, focus entirely on his second favorite team in all the NBA—second only because he intends to play for the Condors, and loyalty to a Malone is important. When he sits on the arm of the couch, his feet on the cushions and his elbows on his thighs, he looks smaller than his over six-foot frame.

He’s still growing.

For as long as he trains as often as he is, and his metabolism runs as fast as it does, he’ll stay a little skinny. But he doesn’t seem to mind, considering he’s one of the fastest dudes on the court, and his three-point shot is accurate to the nth degree.

“I know you’re staring at me.” Slowly, he drags his eyes away from the TV and blinks to clear his vision. Then he flashes a playful grin, because the bathroom door opens behind me and Minka steps out in a towel and wafting steam. She turns right to head to the room, and I continue across to the kitchen. “You often stare at me, creep? Or is this a new habit?”

“Just observing you. I’m a detective. It’s what I do.” I stop by the coffee machine and reach up to snag a mug. “Been awake long?”

“Woke up when the shower went on.” He unfolds his legs and comes around the couch with slow steps. He’s not rushing anywhere, and our apartment is so small, no one really needs to move more than a few steps to transition into a new room. “You getting close to solving that dead girl’s murder yet?”

My brows pinch tight as I place the mug under the coffee spout and hit the button to get it started. Then I turn my back to the machine and lean against the counter. “You have an interest in the case of the girl you saw around, but didn’t really know?”

He shrugs, mirroring my pose, but leaning against the back of the couch. “Kinda makes me think about my mom. Still a teenager. Baby in her belly. At least Tim let her live long enough to give birth, I suppose. Though I’m not sure which is more merciful.”

“Having your baby taken from you and then murdered,” I ponder. “Or being murdered while the infant remains inside. Both scenarios are pretty fucked up. You have anything to add from your observations at school?”

He folds his arms and lifts the pair in a shrug. “Not really. I’ve known Mason and Brent for half a semester, and I was already pretty sick of hearing about how much the dude loved her.”

“Sick of it, like he was loud and full of shit? Or sick of it, like he was annoyingly obnoxious and someone else wanted him to shut up, too?”

“Sick of it, like I see you and Minka, and Felix and Christabelle. And now Micah and Tiia, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe we’re not all supposed to be like our father. I’ve spent my whole life thinking women were for fucking and sending home.”

“And now?”

“I’m wondering where my Tiia-slash-Christabelle-slash-Minka is. She exists. She’s already alive and somewhere in this world. Which means she’s exposed. Who is taking care of her right now while I can’t?”

“Wow.” Surprised, I turn back to the coffee when it stops pouring and swap it for a second, empty mug. “You’re in love with your future someone, and you haven’t even met her yet? ”

Cato, the man slut?

Cato, the eternally insane and casual?

“Just worried, I guess. She’s somewhere, and I don’t have her back yet. I can’t have her back till I know who the fuck she is, and I don’t get to know who she is till the universe is ready to make the introduction. So Mason already having Naomi and being so loud about it, was grating on my nerves a bit. More so now, ‘cos she’s dead, and so is her baby. He was right there, Arch, and she was still hit.”

“You think he allowed her to be attacked?”

He shrugs. “Can’t say, since I didn’t watch the video. But I’m saying he failed to protect her. And if he loved her as much as he says he does, then that failure is probably tearing him up now. Not sure how a guy can come back from that.”

“We protect the ones we love.” Turning, I fold my arms, so we’re twin reflections. Different decades, different mothers. But the DNA our father passed down runs strong. “We do everything we can, and if it turns to shit anyway, well…” I draw a small, laughing breath. “Most folks seek grief counseling.”

“Yeah? What do Malones do?”

“We set some shit on fire and join her in the afterlife. Smarter Malones would choose a woman who doesn’t have a bleeding disorder that makes her more susceptible to death. Or, ya know,” I shrug. “A woman who has diabetes and can’t go forty-eight hours without insulin or a near death experience.”

His lips curl, soft on one side, reminding me exactly of Felix.

“And Tiia?”

“Death wish. Which is just as fuckin’ dangerous if you ask me.”

“What’s wrong with the hippie?”

Stunned, my brows pinch close. “What do you mean?”

“Felix chose Christabelle: insulin reliant. You chose Minka: Factor reliant. Micah chose Tiia: mostly deaf and definitely crazy. Tim wants the hippie, but maybe it’s not working out because she’s not sick or insane.”

“Or maybe you’re just trying to create a pattern where patterns don’t exist.” Minka strolls into the living room and makes a beeline for me. Or, well, the coffee . “Aubree has her own stuff going on. Just because she doesn’t stick a needle in her body a few times a week doesn’t mean she isn’t right for Tim.”

“Or maybe the fact that she’s an innocent little hippie who fell in love with a mafia heir is her thing,” Cato counters with a playful grin. “That’s a fatal disease if I ever saw one.”

Ignoring him, she heads straight into my arms and rests her cheek on my chest, tangling her hands in my back pockets for extra security. “You didn’t wait for me in the room.”

“You woke up before me and left.” I brush her damp hair aside and press a kiss to her forehead. “I figured coffee was your next step. Yours is done.” I twist and reach out for the black coffee. “Mostly. Still needs creamer.”

“Black works fine.” She accepts her mug in one hand and continues to snuggle. “Aubree’s allowed to be in love with a man and not have a prerequisite illness, by the way. She’s also allowed to not be with him, if that’s what she chooses, and he can’t force the subject. The ball is completely and always in her court.”

“Fuckin’ feminism.” Rolling his eyes, Cato slinks away from the back of the couch and lopes around to the front. So sick of seeing the love stuff while he worries about someone he doesn’t even know yet . “I don’t think women should support feminism the way they do. They need men to protect them.”

“Good lord.” I close my eyes as Minka spins in my arms. “It’s too early for this talk.”

“Women don’t need protection, except, predominantly, from men. And even then, there are ways to make them as strong and skilled as, if not stronger or more skilled, than their hunter. It’s not about feminism, Cato. And it’s not about weaponizing a word that has become a catchphrase for both sides of a coin in a war between the sexes. It’s about not being abused by another human being.”

“Women hurt women too!”

“Yes. They do. But that’s not what this conversation is about. You’re talking about my best friend and your brother. No matter his feelings surrounding a relationship with her, that relationship doesn’t exist without her consent.”

“I would make it exist.” Taunting, Cato plops back onto the arm of the couch, but shoots a leering look over his shoulder. “If I meet the woman I’m supposed to love, and she’s a little… uncooperative about the subject, then if I think it’s in her own best interests to be protected by, and potentially in a relationship with me, then that’s how it’s gonna go.”

“Said every serial killer in the history of the world.” Minka sets her coffee on the counter and dips out of my hold to go to the fridge. She snags the creamer, so my mind instantly jumps to ‘ told you so ’, but then she walks back and pours a dollop into the mug still under the spout .

Mine.

“Caffeine.” She pushes to her toes and presses a kiss to the center of my lips. “Something tells me you’re gonna need it today.” Then she turns to Cato and smirks. “There will never come a moment in our future, when you bring a woman home to meet us, where I won’t take her aside and ask if she feels safe. If she needs an escape, I’ll be the one helping her. And if she even hints at abuse, then the Malone machine is gonna have to resurrect your bastard father so he can make another son. Because the authorities won’t find your body once I’m done with it.”

Stunned, his emerald eyes swing to mine. “You hear that threat?”

I bring my coffee up and sip. “Mmhm.”

“There was once a time that, if such a thing was even muttered near our family, that person would soon be dead.”

“Uh huh. But we’re not him, and she’s not disposable.” I lower my coffee and gesture toward the door. “But there’s a whole other apartment, just a few blocks down, where you can stay, free of charge. You might feel safer there?”

“I’m not leaving.” He brings his feet onto the couch and stares at the TV. “A guy could feel a little unloved though, with the number of times you ask him to leave.”

Pursing her lips, Minka pats my chest and picks up her coffee, then crossing the apartment, she walks up behind Cato and sets her hand on his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He tenses and spins, searching her eyes as distrust simmers in his. “What?”

“You annoy the crap out of me. And you were not raised amongst decent civilization. It’s like we’re trying to humanize Tarzan. I never agreed to that kind of responsibility. But the fact that Felix Malone raised you is hardly your own fault.” She brings a hand up and cups his cheek. “I would miss you if you left.”

“Are you…” He looks past her to me. “She serious?”

“As a blood clotting disorder.” She claps his cheek and beams. “And if you tell anyone I was nice to you, I’ll deny it.” Lowering her hand, she turns and moves my way. “I’m heading to work in about twenty minutes. Hopefully Fifi is there, so I can check in with her before we’re on the clock. Then I have morning rounds. I’ll run through my team’s active files and assist, since mine is effectively closed.”

“Closed for you .” I bring my coffee up and ignore the stars in my baby brother’s eyes as he watches the first love of his life move. “Not closed for me. Do you know who planted that knife? Because I’m still coming up empty.”

She snorts and trades her coffee for the creamer. Walking it to the fridge, she deposits it back inside and snags one of the dozen breakfast pouches that somehow, magically appear despite the fact she never shops for them. “Whoever it is, it’s going to feel obvious once you figure it out. Have you checked external security cameras? This person needs to have entered the house at some point prior to the kill zone to leave the knife.”

“Yep. And they only have three inside, all on the five minute looping system. None in the back. And those they have, leave a bunch of blind spots. Whoever swapped the prop for a real knife seems to have known that. Unless, of course, I saw them while I was watching, but they didn’t stand out as a perp.”

She closes the fridge and unscrews the pouch lid. “What do you mean?”

“As in, they lived there. Or they were part of the decorating committee. The owners came in and out a lot, obviously, since when it’s not nighttime in October, it’s just a regular home. The mailman comes earlier in the day. And their daughters, they’ve got two of them, were in and out. It was a regular day and their lives existed within it.”

“Was Friday the opening day of the season?” Cato questions. “The night Naomi died, was that the first night of the haunted house?”

“No. It was the third. Business opened to the public on Wednesday night.”

“So maybe your killer was someone who walked through on one of the previous two nights. They pay their entry fee. Wander in with their friends, or alone. Most chicks are gonna have a purse or a backpack, so it’s not like she had to carry the knife in her hands. She catches the show on the first or second night, to know how it all goes down, then she swaps the prop and walks away. Her presence there appears completely legit.”

“By that theory, your perp had to have come by on Thursday night.” Minka sucks on the end of her pouch and happily swallows protein and vitamins without realizing how healthy her breakfast is. “Can’t have been Wednesday, or Connor would’ve picked it up sooner.”

“Or it could have been earlier Friday night,” Cato counters. “Were Naomi and her group the first through the door that night? If not, that means your perp walked in before them.” He sets his forearms on his knees. “Almost makes me wonder if your killer is literally the person who walked through directly ahead of Naomi’s group.” He rolls his eyes, playing it up for Minka. “Is police work even difficult? He has security footage and a timeline too tight for it to be anyone except whoever was on the screen before his victim.”

“Yeah, .” Smirking, Minka’s cheeks warm as she finishes her meal and tosses the packaging into the trash. “Is police work even hard?” Walking straight to me, she steps on her toes and kisses me with a noisy mwah . Then she turns on her heels and heads toward the hall. “I’m drying my hair and putting on my shoes, then I’m out of here. Stop going to those psych classes, Cato. But definitely go to psych appointments. Your childhood trauma and codependence are showing.”

The playfulness he wore a moment ago turns into a scowl now that she’s back to picking on him. “She’s mean. Do you ever feel secure in her affections for you?”

“No.” I bring my coffee up and grin behind the lip. Because the answer is yes , absolutely, without a doubt yes, because I know she would kill for me. She would step into danger for me. And she would defend my life, no matter the circumstances. But for Cato’s sake, I pretend otherwise. “She takes that ‘ treat ‘em mean ’ thing to heart. It’s a hard life.”

M inka goes to work, and Cato and I swing by the station to get a car. And though I told him he couldn’t get a ride with me, I still let him sit in the passenger seat as we pull away from the precinct and come to a stop only a few minutes later outside Fletch’s apartment.

My stomach churns at the knowledge Jada is up there right now. The woman I once adored. The one I considered a sister and treated as such because she was Fletch’s, and Fletch is mine.

Then she set that life and those privileges on fire.

Now she’s actively fucking with the lives of those I love. So as I look up at the multistory apartment building, I snag the keys from the ignition and swallow down the annoyance that attempts to move along my throat.

“She’s asking for help.” I slide out of the car and stand, resting my arms on the roof as Cato does the same on his side. “She’s asking for help. So I’m gonna be kind.”

“Are you chanting, like, affirmations or something?” He slams his door and starts toward the front of the car. “Do you need my assistance with that, or… ”

“She’s done bad things. But she’s asking for help, and Fletch is saying to trust.” Closing my door, I follow my brother to the front and continue toward the building’s entrance. “She’s made poor choices, but she’s committing to rehab and asking for help.”

“So chanting affirmations, then. Hummm…” He pushes the front door open and watches as I pass. “Hummm…”

“Stop that. It’s annoying.”

“Stop panicking because your best friend’s ex-wife has come back into his life. He wanted her before, he probably wants her now. If she’s making better choices, then it’s not for you to judge or condemn her. Just makes you look clingy and weird to take all this so personally.”

“Right. So if in some crazy, alternate reality, Christabelle fucks another dude and breaks up with Lix, you’re still gonna be cool with her?”

“Well…” He starts up the stairs with a smirk. “Yeah, but she was a terrible example for you to use.”

“Tiia, then. She screws with Micah’s heart and leaves him crushed into the ground. You still gonna be her friend?”

“I mean…”

“The answer is no. Because we protect the people we love. Fletch was a good husband, Cato. A damn good husband, even while working the kind of career that makes for bad husbands. He took care of her. Supported her. Trusted her. Even when shit was looking a little sketchy and I would casually mention my thoughts—which led to us fighting, by the way—he still trusted her. Then he came home to her fucking another cop on his couch and their kid sleeping in the next room.”

I shake my head and approach the second-floor landing. “Must’ve taken every scrap of willpower he owned not to murder the dude, then and there.”

“You’d kill anyone who lifted Minka’s skirt?”

I snort, dropping my hands into my pockets and nodding. “Without even thinking about it. I can move across the country to escape the Malone part of my family. But when shit is going down, my DNA is still my DNA.”

“What happened to the guy she was fucking?”

“Felix killed him earlier this year.” I glance to my left and meet his eyes. “Unrelated situation, but still. There go the Malones, doing what Malones do.”

“Sounds like he did everyone a favor.” He walks beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as we climb. “You gonna be able to forgive this chick if Fletch forgives her? ”

I wrinkle my nose, subconsciously knowing what my manners insist I can’t speak out loud. But since Fletch isn’t here with us… “I don’t trust her. And if he loses his mind and looks for a relationship with her again, I’m gonna be watching close, waiting for the moment she fucks him over and I’m forced to catch him. I think she’s opportunistic and shitty. She showed some of those characteristics before everything went to hell—her career, and her position within it, already lent toward selfish—but now, on the other side of divorce, I think she’s more apt to take what she can get and run. And he knows it too. A man who trusts doesn’t sleep with his bedroom door locked.”

“Uncle ?” Mia jumps onto the fourth-floor landing, grinning and waving a red Care Bear with little hearts on its belly. She appears to be happy on first inspection. Her smile, wide, and her outfit, loud. But then I look closer. At the puffiness around her eyes and the mess of her hair. “You’re here, Uncle Arch!”

“Hey, Moo.” I quicken my steps and pray she didn’t hear any of that shit I said about her mom. Then I scoop her up and cast a fast glance along the hall to her open apartment door. “Are you okay, Moo?” I brush hair off of her face and wait where I am as Cato walks ahead of us and peeks into the apartment door. “What are you doing out here all alone? Have you been crying?”

“I’m not crying.” And yet, she reaches up and swipes her eyes, crushing her bear between us. “Daddy hasn’t been crying either.”

“Daddy?” My eyes swing to the door. “Is Daddy sad about something, Moo? What happened?”

The girl only shrugs, sniffling and twisting in my arms as I make my way along the hall.

“Is he okay, Moo? Is Daddy’s body okay? Did he get hurt?”

She shakes her head, her eyes welling. “His body is okay, I fink. He said so.”

“Fletch?” I want to set the girl on her feet and force her to wait in the hall. And yet, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving a four-year-old on her own while my adrenaline kicks the way it does now. So I burst through the apartment door and catch Cato’s eyes first. His wariness. His worry. Then I swing around, unholstering my service weapon as I move into the living room and find it… well, completely fucking trashed.

The couch has been thrown on its back, and cords hang from the TV cabinet where a fifty-inch screen used to be. Cupboard doors are open. The fridge door, open. DVDs litter the living room rug, and a medicine box lies strewn on the kitchen counter, packaging torn open, but any pills I might’ve expected to find, gone.

“Shit. Fletch?” I pass Moo off to Cato, practically tossing her and trusting he’ll catch. Then I cross the living room with my gun in hand and clear the space. “Where’s Daddy, Mia?” I press my back to the wall and wait at the mouth of the hallway. “Honey?” I peek back. “Where’s Daddy?”

“In the bafroom , maybe?” She shrugs and hugs into her bear and Cato, so they become a Care Bear sandwich. “Maybe he had to pee?”

But he’s okay, right? She said his body was okay.

“Charlie Fletcher?” I step into the hall, knowing Cato will protect Mia the way his family taught him to protect another, then I peek into the bathroom and find more mayhem. The medicine cabinet door ajar, and the contents spilled out into the sink. I check the shower, pulling the curtain aside to ensure it’s empty, then I back out again and move toward the bedrooms. Mia’s first, though I find it reasonably neat. The wardrobe door is open, but that could’ve been Mia herself, I suppose. “Charlie!” For every second I don’t find him, my heart thunders harder. Painfully. A heavy lump of anxiety nestles in the base of my throat, damn near cutting off my air and leaving me struggling for more. But I back out of her room and turn toward the main at the end of the hall. The one Fletch said he was locking himself in overnight.

I test the handle, giving it a jiggle and releasing it again as though it might be hot. When my brain registers that one, it’s unlocked, and two, it’s not hot, I grab it a second time and push the door wide open, sending it sailing until the timber hits the wall on the other side.

Finally, I find my best friend on his bed. His closed eyes, like a sucker punch to my soul. But then I process the fact that he’s sitting up. His elbows on his knees, a bit like Cato’s were earlier. His chin in his hands, and his hands pressed together, almost in prayer.

“Fuck.” I stride into the room to ensure it’s empty apart from him, then I re-holster my weapon and grab my best friend by the hair. It’s rough. It’s mean. But goddammit, my heart hurts as I yank his head back and force him to face me. “You’re okay, right?” I swallow as his golden-eyed stare finally flickers open. Then as the red, bloodshot exhaustion in them tears another strip from my soul. “Everything else aside, you’re okay?”

He reaches up and knocks my hand from his hair, then he flops back onto the bed and covers his face with his hands. “I guess we call me the Joker now. Since I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“No.” I turn and sit my ass on the bed beside his. I don’t lay down. But I take a deep breath and catch up on the few I didn’t allow myself to take on the way in here. “You’re not an idiot for wanting to help someone, Fletch. You’re especially not an idiot for wanting to help the woman who gave you your child.”

“So you know what happened, then?” His words are muffled. His voice, completely and utterly exhausted. “You got it figured out?”

“I investigate crime scenes for a living. Kinda figure you had a guest overnight. One who is accustomed to a certain way of life. That person ransacked your place, stole some stuff that might be valuable to a buyer, and then they took off.”

He scoffs, but fuck, I’ll be damned if the sound doesn’t come with a side of devastation. “You got it. She made me a punk.”

“You’re not a punk for helping someone you care about.” I grab the lapel of his shirt and yank him up to sit beside me. His shoulder leaning on mine, and his anger, beating into my veins. “Her behavior doesn’t reflect poorly on you. The fact you help makes you a good man. The fact she can’t, or won’t, accept that help makes her a victim of her own circumstances. You can’t save everyone.”

“She must’ve gotten into our room.” Desperately, he looks across with swollen eyes. “She got in, while we fucking slept, and took the bag of Oxy.”

“That’s not your?—”

“She was desperate for a hit! And had access to me and my daughter while we slept! She ransacked my house, Arch. And I was so fucking wiped out, I slept through it all. She flipped everything, looking for money or cards or fuck knows what else. She took the baby Tylenol,” he groans. “Who does that?”

Devastated, I set my arm on his back and squeeze the top of his shoulder. “She’s sick and in pain.”

“There was no money for her to take.” He laughs. But the sound is broken and almost silent. “I spent the last of what I had on the rehab place. Call me a fuckin’ cynic, but I’m starting to think she won’t turn up next week when that bed opens up.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay.” I squeeze again and breathe. Simply breathe. Because the alternative means letting my DNA take over and satisfying my need to make things right. He’s my family. And Jada Watson has just gone and fucked him over… again . “It’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

He drops his head and takes his moment. His chest and back bouncing as grief works through his body and the reality that the woman he once loved is never truly coming back beats through his system. He’s an optimist. He trusts. Just like he did when they were still married and she was fucking another man.

And just like that time, she took his trust and shoved it up his ass, pointy side first, like she gets off on inflicting as much pain as she can on the way out.

“I warned you back,” he groans, crushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He sniffs—short, sharp, fast, as though to hide his hurt—and shakes his head. “You were being realistic about this bullshit, and I snapped at you.”

“I don’t take that stuff personally.” I study the side of his face and paste on a grin, though he doesn’t move his hands to see it. “You and I fight. Don’t you remember that first time we met? Couldn’t stand each other.”

He chokes out a despairing, tear-filled laugh. “I beat your ass and taught you some respect.”

“Yeah? That’s not quite how I remember it. I couldn’t stand your ‘ the ladies love me ’ swagger and smirk. I wanted to belt you from the first moment I saw you.”

“Instead of killing each other, we became brothers.”

“And we’re still brothers.” I pat his back and sigh. “We can argue, Fletch. Doesn’t bother me one bit. I’m still gonna turn up the next day and remind you we’re in this together.”

“I snapped at Sera,” he whimpers. “It was way worse. And she was right about Jada, anyway.”

“So when you have a second and a little emotional capacity, you’ll tell her you’re sorry. These things can be fixed.”

“Jada can’t be.” He peels his hands from his eyes and looks across to me. “There’s nothing left for me to do, Arch. She doesn’t want to be helped. She just wants to use people.”

“You’re divorced. And you have Mia.” I lean to the side and peer into the hall, though Cato does the right thing and keeps the girl busy elsewhere. “It sucks. It didn’t have to go this way. But it did. So now you raise your daughter, and you parent with Jada only when she’s a functioning, healthy contributor. Until then, you gray rock and ignore.”

“It’s not so simple?—”

“It has to be this simple! It’s time to save your sanity now. You need to take care of yourself, because Mia needs a healthy parent. Two is ideal, but one is enough. And if you keep going down this road, trying to save that woman at the expense of everyone else, you’re gonna fail and Mia will have lost both of her parents instead of just one.”

“How did you get to be so fucking knowledgeable on this shit?” He swallows and looks across to meet my eyes. “Your mother was murdered and your father was a prick. How do you know what one healthy parent even looks like?”

“Because I had my brothers. And together, we did our best to create one decent-ish person for Cato. We kinda screwed up,” I chuckle. “He turned out, well… the way he turned out. There’s a lot wrong with him. But he’s kind of alright too, ya know? He’s out there with your baby girl right now, and I trust him completely. That means we did something okay.”

“Arch—”

“We were just a bunch of fucked up kids, doing the best we could. So imagine how amazing he would have turned out with an actual healthy parental figure. That’s how we raise Mia. With all of us reasonably okay, fucked up adults, doing our best. So when she’s grown and our job is done, we know she’ll be the best of us all.”

“Daddy?”

Mia calls from the other side of the apartment. Questioning, but not panicked. Still, Fletch straightens his back and wipes beneath his nose. He swipes his eyes with the heels of his hands, then he sniffles. One last time. “I gotta figure out what to tell her.”

“Tell her there must’ve been a party here last night, but the apartment will be clean again by the time she gets home from school. And then you tell her Mommy is going back to the place she went last time, so she can feel better.”

“That’s a lie.” He pushes off the bed and fixes his shirt so the wrinkled fabric lies flat against his stomach. “You want me to lie to my baby?”

“Lies are acceptable when the truth is damaging. Always.” Standing, I clap his back and squeeze his shoulder, then I move to the door and clear my throat. “You can come down here, Moo. Daddy was tying his shoes because it’s almost time to head out to school and stuff.”

They were waiting. Because the moment I finish speaking, Cato steps into the hall with Moo perched on his hip. They’re both wary, though for different reasons. I think Moo is simply confused, while Cato is ready, as he’s always been, for war.

When you’re a kid, raised on the battlegrounds of mafia conflict, you’re always ready to strap up and deal with any nonsense brought to your front door.

And Jada… she brought this shit past the door and into his family’s living room.

“Hey there, Cutie.” I extend my arms and catch the girl when she leaps from Cato and over to me. But I give her what she wants, turning to her dad and passing her off so she can nestle against his chest. “How are you liking school, Moo?” I set one hand on my hip and use the other to brush hair off her face. “Do you love it there?”

“Ms. Harmon is really nice.” She snuggles under Fletch’s chin, so long, messy hair tickles his jaw. “I’m learning how to read.”

“Really? Reading is pretty important, huh?” I wink and earn a small, scared smile. “Maybe next time we go to Uncle Tim’s bar, you can read the menu to me, so I can decide what to eat.”

Finally, she giggles. “We don’t need the menu. We want hotdogs on a stick, silly.”

“Yeah, silly.” Cato stops in the doorway and discreetly glances around. “Hotdogs on sticks are far superior to all that other slop Uncle Tim serves up. Maybe that’s why Aubree won’t be Uncle Tim’s girlfriend, huh? Because his menu sucks.”

“Maybe we don’t introduce new, confusing relationship dynamics in front of a child already processing a lot of stuff.” I turn to my brother and push him back, so I can move into the hallway and leave the Fletchers to a moment of privacy. Then I take out my phone and dial Felix. Since, evidently, he’s my contact for all sorts of shit.

Ironic, really. But it is what it is.

“Two days in a row.” He answers with a laugh, the sound of New York traffic playing in the background, so I know he’s sitting in a car somewhere near Manhattan. “Smells like a family reunion to me. Doctor Mayet ready to move to New York yet? She used to live here, right? I imagine it would hardly be an issue that she relocate back.”

“We’re not moving to New York. But I kinda need a favor.”

He turns serious in a single heartbeat. Swings his head the other way to meet Micah’s eyes. I don’t even have to be in their car to know how my brothers respond to a threat. “Is everyone okay? What happened?”

“Everyone is safe. But I need a clean-up crew to come in. Like, right now.”

“Cleaners? Who the fuck did you kill?”

“Not those kinda of cleaners.” I move into the living room, planning to perch on the edge of the couch and take a load off for a second. But then I remember that it’s been flipped. So I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear, and crouch to get my hands under the heavy structure. “I need regular house cleaners. But a whole team. I need them here now, and they have to be finished by three. ”

“Your house was raided?”

“Close. Fletch’s house was tossed, and as his best friend, I’m getting things straightened out for him. But I don’t have contacts for that sort of stuff.”

“Why the fuck don’t you have contacts? You’re telling me you actually clean your own place? We have people for that sort of thing, .”

“I’ve hired them in the past.” I lift the couch and hold on tight so it doesn’t slam back into place and damage Fletch’s floors. “Before, when it was just me and I spent more time at the station than I did at home. But now I live with Minka, and she’s not gonna tolerate some random chick walking through and touching her things.”

“So you scrub the toilet for her,” he taunts. “You fuckin’ simp. Why not call the people you used to hire?”

“Because I lost their number. Fuck, Felix! Can you make a call or not?”

He chuckles and turns his face from the phone for just a beat, mumbling instructions to someone else. Not Micah. One of his guards, I imagine. Then he brings his focus back to me. “It’s taken care of. Fletch okay? I know he’s a cop, and cops fuckin’ stink and all that. But he’s my brother’s best friend, and the father of that little cutie pie I’m kinda claiming as Malone royalty. So I suppose it matters to me that he’s fine.”

“He’s safe.” But I turn toward the hall when I hear shuffling feet. “I’ll deal with the rest.”

“Someone hurt him?”

“Not physically. Remember that stuff we talked about last night?”

“Nathan Booth and Fletch’s baby-momma making a mess.”

“Yeah, well… more of that. But it was a wake-up call for him, and I doubt she’ll get the same access again.” Maybe. I sigh. Fuck knows, he’s had wake-up calls about her in the past, too. “I’m watching the situation. But I need that cleaner here this morning.”

“Already on the way. You need anything else? You expecting to kill anyone? Because that requires a different kind of cleaner and they’re not as cheap to get.”

“You having money issues?” I watch as Fletch leads Mia into her room. Probably to get her shoes on. Or to grab her bag for school. “You need a loan, Felix? Now that you got two more mouths to feed in your house.”

He laughs. “First of all, those two extra mouths eat less, combined, than Cato ever has. So we’re still in the black. And no, business is good. Especially now that we have Ms. Hale over here finding literal fucking buried treasure. Since she’s employed by me, whatever she finds belongs to me. And since she’s probably gonna marry Micah someday and take his name, who owns what is hardly worth picking apart. Mayet change her name to Malone yet?”

“Nope. And she’s not gonna.”

He tsks, shaking his head from side to side. “How embarrassing for you.”

“Boss?” Another voice rolls from inside Felix’s car. “We’re here.”

“Alright. I gotta go. But it was a pleasure, Detective. Wanna get dinner tonight?”

“No.” I pull the phone from my ear and kill our call, and moving into the kitchen to quietly close some doors, I attempt to right the room a little before Mia and Fletch walk back through. Then I swipe to my banking app and transfer just enough to make my partner cranky. But flush. Not so much he’ll kill me for it. But any amount is bound to piss him off, so I type in enough to make him comfortable until payday.

“We’re gonna drive you to school, McStinkerson.” Cato carries the girl and her red bear into the living room and looks around. He’s subtle about it. But he approves of the re-situated couch. The slightly tidier kitchen. “Then after school, when Uncle Cato finishes with his classes too, I reckon we head to Tim’s bar and talk trash about his menu.”

Mia cackles, bouncing in his arms and looking a thousand directions at once. “You like to make Uncle Tim mad. Aren’t you scared?”

“Should I be scared? He’s a pussycat beneath flannel shirts. He doesn’t scare me at all.”

“He’s silly.” She kicks her feet to be put down. Then she skips my way and looks up at me with dancing eyes. “Daddy said he’ll be out in just one sec, then we can go to school.”

“He’s probably brushing his teeth, huh?” I crouch to get on her level and poke the nose of her bear. “This is new, huh?”

“Ms. Fifi brought it to me.” She strangles the bear and crushes it in a hug that would have a lesser bear losing its head. “I didn’t get to talk to her when she bringed it. But Daddy gave it to me and said it was from her. Isn’t that nice?”

“Sure is! She didn’t bring me a gift last night. So I guess you must’ve been extra good to deserve it.”

“Yeah. Or she really likes me. Because she does my hair. And sometimes,” she leans closer, widening her eyes, “ sometimes , like one time, she even let me do her hair.”

“Wow!” I match her energy and tap the end of her nose. “I don’t think Fifi lets very many people touch her hair. Which means you must be extra special. I might see her today at work.” I bring my hand up, holding my chin in that way people do when they’re thinking. “If I do, should I tell her you showed me the bear and love it?”

“Yes please!” She turns at the sound of her dad’s footsteps in the hall. But then she looks back at me, grinning like she doesn’t see the chaos surrounding her. “Please tell her! Then maybe tell her to come to Uncle Tim’s for dinner, too.” She lowers her voice, almost like she’s telling a secret, “I know she doesn’t like to eat meat. And hotdogs on sticks are made of dogs. So she doesn’t like that.”

I choke out a small, silent laugh. “Made of dogs?”

“Yeah, like… not actual dogs. Hotdogs are a different kind of meat, not from real puppies or anything. But Ms. Fifi doesn’t like any kind of meat from any kind of animal. But I know she loooooves sweet potato fries. So I can eat my hotdog on a stick, and she can eat her fries, and then we can still eat together.”

“Ya know what? That sounds perfect to me.” I grab her chin between my finger and thumb, and dragging her close, I plop a kiss on her cheek. “You and Ms. Fifi make a great team. You eat the meat stuff, she eats the salads and vegetables. One plate, two beautiful ladies.”

Fletch stops a few feet from us and clears his throat, and though he looks down, fixing his belt and shrugging into his holster, he eyes me from under his lashes. Shut the fuck up about Fifi . “It’s time to go, Ms. Mia. You ready to wow Ms. Harmon with how smart you are— again ?”

“I’m the smartest in the whole class!” Mia beams under the adoring gaze of three grown ass men. “Daddy said so.”

“Daddy was right.” Winking, I push up to stand and meet my friend’s reserved gaze. “Okay if we leave the place unlocked? It’ll only be for a few minutes till a cleaning crew gets here. Then they’ll lock up on their way out.”

“No need for a cleaner.” He checks his guns—one, then two—and avoids looking my way. “I’ll take care of this when I get home tonight.”

“It’s already dealt with. They’re on their way.”

“Arch. I can’t pay for?—”

“Like I said,” I drop my hands to my hips and force a grin, “already taken care of. And since we’re on the topic, and you’re already defensive and cranky, I’ll also tell you that the money you spent on that other thing has been refunded. Should already be in your bank, with interest.”

His jaw clenches, the muscles shifting beneath his stubbled skin. “It was non-refundable. ”

“I’m done talking about it. This transaction is also one of those non-refundable kinds. So move on.” I look down at Moo. “We probably need a kiddie booster for the car, right? Where’s yours?”

“Over here!” She dashes across the living room and around the off-center couch, then she grabs her five-point seat and hefts it up until the sounds of buckles clanging together ricochet through the room. “I’m ready for school. Do you think I can drive next time?”

I pass a snarling Fletch, and chuckle as I relieve Moo of the heavy chair. “Next time, you can drive.”

Lighting up, she jogs backwards toward the door. “You promise?”

“No.” I reach the door a single step ahead of her and open it to find maids with buckets filled with cleaning supplies. “Perfect.” I grab Mia’s hand and meet the eyes of the woman in front. “Every room, please. Top to bottom. Make a list of anything broken, or any packages opened but empty. I’ll have a new TV delivered within an hour or two, so if you can get that set up and the boxes disposed of, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Malone. The other Mr. Malone gave me your cell number in case I need to make contact.”

“Thanks. Once you’re done, send me a text or whatever with your banking details and I’ll get it pa?—”

“The other Mr. Malone already paid for our services.” Smiling, she does that weird shuffle when she starts in and we move out. Then she looks up at Cato, nodding her head, and Fletch, though he doesn’t meet her eyes. “We’ll be gone in about five hours.”

“Thank you.” I step into the corridor and wait for the others to follow me out, then I look down at Mia and make a goofy face. “Let’s go be the smartest people. You’re the smartest in your school. And Uncle Arch and Daddy are heading to the college. We’ll be the smartest there.”

“Ahem…” Cato fake-clears his throat. “I’ll also be there. Thus, you cannot be the smartest.”

“I said what I said.” I tickle the back of Mia’s shoulders and send her skittering forward. “Let’s make this day our beach.”

“Our beach?” Cato quickens his steps to keep up with Mia, but as he passes me, he looks back with brows pinched tight. “Make it our beach ?”

“No swearing allowed. Or she’ll say those words to Ms. Harmon, and then we’ll all be called into the principal’s office and get into trouble.”