Chapter Eight
“I was not expecting this,” Archer told Atticus when they walked into their hotel suite.
Yes, it was a suite. Not a room like normal businesspeople booked when they checked into a hotel. This was a suite, complete with two separate bedrooms, each with its own bath, that were divided by a large living area and a small kitchenette.
“You want the left or the right?” Atticus asked, his gaze scanning the space.
“Doesn’t matter. You choose, I’ll take what you don’t.”
Atticus dropped his backpack on the couch, then went to the left, disappearing into one of the rooms, while Archer deposited his bag on a lone chair in the corner. Why it was there was anyone’s guess.
“Is this the normal set-up when y’all are out of town?” he shouted so Atticus could hear him.
“Most of the time, no.”
Archer figured.
“When we were in New York, I was sleepin’ on the pull-out sofa in Slade’s room because they were outta rooms,” Atticus explained, returning to the living room without the bag he’d been carrying.
Archer had to wonder if that was when they first got together. Then again, if Atticus was on the couch…
None of your business.
Keeping with the theme that Atticus’s personal life wasn’t his business, Archer said, “Been there, done that.”
Atticus chuckled. “Much easier for me to do, I imagine.”
Archer fought the urge to look at Atticus. He’d been fighting that battle ever since Atticus made his comment in the truck.
Go on, spit it out. You’ll feel better.
I’m usually bein’ told to swallow.
Being that they were partners, it was completely inappropriate for Archer to have reacted the way he had to that statement. Luckily for him, Atticus had been too embarrassed to notice.
However, he had reacted. And for the first time, he had looked at Atticus. Really looked at him.
He noticed his dark hair, a little on the disheveled side, but the unkempt style suited him.
He noticed his green eyes, a color so intriguing, Archer wasn’t sure he’d seen it before. Maybe a cross between celadon and emerald.
He noticed his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.
He noticed the toned muscles and the dark hair spattering his arms.
He noticed the man’s hands. More specifically, the strength he saw in them when Atticus was gripping the steering wheel as though it were a lifeline.
Yeah. He had definitely noticed.
Worse was the fact that he liked what he saw. A lot.
Not that he would ever act on it. Archer figured it was merely a side effect of his falling out with Spencer.
After all, he hadn’t heard from Spencer since the night things went terribly wrong on their date.
Since that had been Thursday and it was now Saturday, he wasn’t sure what to expect.
There was a good chance he would never hear from Spencer again.
He didn’t like the idea, but figured it was better to end it now before they ventured into territory where feelings started to arise.
“We should set things up in here.”
Realizing Atticus was attempting to move furniture, Archer got with the program. He pushed the coffee table closer to the couch so they could use it as a make-shift desk.
Archer grabbed his laptop from his bag and took a seat beside Atticus on the couch. The instant he sat, his arm brushed Atticus’s. Like a dumbass, he shot to his feet, nearly sending the laptop across the room.
“I’ll … uh … take the chair.”
Atticus was staring at him like he’d grown a third arm, this one out of his face. “You okay?”
“Never better.” It was a lie. But one he was determined to make true. “Why?”
“Never saw a guy your size move that fast.”
“The couch was lumpy.”
Based on Atticus’s expression, he would believe Archer was an alien from another planet before he believed that.
“Let’s map out a plan for while we’re here,” he told Atticus, wanting to get back on track. “Outside of the conversation with Max Adorite.”
Atticus was still watching him, but he nodded, his gaze slowly shifting back to his computer screen. “I think we need to do some recon on Martin Calloway. We need to get an address for him so we can check out his home, his office, maybe shadow him for a few hours.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Archer started a list, putting that as the first bullet point.
“I’d also like to talk to Allison Bogart or her parents. Or all of them. See if they can give us any information.”
Archer added those to the next bullet point. “What about the team? Can they handle anything back at home?”
Atticus looked up, then leaned back and took a deep breath. “I guess it depends on who’s available and what can be done down there.”
“Let’s start by listing out who’s available.”
“Okay.” Atticus closed his eyes for a moment. “We’ve got Evan, Charlie, and Jay.”
Archer noted them separately. “Okay.”
“Becs and Holly. They could do deep dives.”
“Good.” Archer added their names.
Atticus’s eyelids lifted slowly. “Jay and Slade.”
“I already have Jay, but I’ll add Slade.”
“Oh. Right. Okay. Baz and JJ are lookin’ into the doctor who signed the death certificate,” Atticus said. “Reese messaged me earlier about that.”
Adding that as a bullet point, Archer nodded. “That’s a good lead. If he falsified it, they’ll figure it out.”
“Especially if they follow the money,” Atticus noted. “No one does anything for free.”
“True. I’ll make a note for Luca. I know he’s currently on another case, but if he gets done, we could utilize his skills. What about Darius?”
“Yeah. We can use him until Monday,” Atticus said, sitting up and tapping his keyboard. “He sent an email earlier. The new hires are starting then. He’s pushin’ to get them set up by then, so he might be busy, but we could use him in a pinch.”
“Will they be ready to pitch in? The new hires?”
Atticus shrugged. “I don’t know much about them. I mean, I’ve seen the resumes, but I don’t know who they hired.”
Archer sat back in his chair when Atticus spun the notepad around, dragging his finger down the list as he read.
“We’ve also got Elana and Simon,” Atticus noted. “What if we have him do a deep dive into Censorious? See what they’ve been up to for the past few years. She can help him.”
“He’ll want that information for his upcoming podcast, so yeah.”
Leaning forward, Archer held the pen out for Atticus. When he reached for it, Archer made sure not to let their fingers touch.
“I don’t bite, you know.”
Is it wrong that I wished you did?
Dumbass, of course it’s wrong.
Ignoring his internal rant, Archer sighed. “Sorry. It’s not you. I swear.”
“Yeah? You sure about that? Ever since I made that blunder in the truck, you’ve been actin’ weird.”
Figuring it was best to play dumb, but not too dumb, Archer said, “Have I?”
Atticus sighed. “Look. What I said was way out of line, and I apologize. If I somehow made you uncomfortable…”
“You didn’t.” Archer snorted. “Not the way you think.”
Atticus looked horrified. “But I did make you uncomfortable.”
“No,” Archer blurted as he shot to his feet. He needed to move. “No,” he said calmly. “It didn’t bother me. I just … I reacted badly to it, and I think I owe you an apology.”
Atticus snorted. “What? You realize that doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
Archer planted his hands on his hips, stared up at the ceiling, and choked on a laugh. “It doesn’t, does it?”
Atticus felt like a complete idiot.
He knew exactly what comment Archer was referring to, and he’d been fretting over what he’d said from the second the words had tumbled out of his mouth. It had been completely inappropriate. He’d even considered talking to Brantley and Reese, admitting to having crossed a serious line.
“I’m new to this partner thing,” he admitted. “And I’m not all that PC to begin with. I guess I should’ve warned you.”
Still turned away, Archer shifted that piercing blue gaze his way.
God, the man had the most intense eyes he’d ever seen. They were just so … blue.
“Plus…” Atticus let it trail off because he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to admit what the real issue was. Or even acknowledge it, for that matter.
Archer turned to face him, clearly waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Tell me.”
Shaking his head, Atticus laughed. “No. It’s stupid and really unimportant.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Leaning back on the couch, Atticus stared up at his new partner. Way, way up. The man was enormous. Like break-me-in-half enormous. And yeah, he was most definitely hot.
But so was Carson.
And Slade.
His reaction to Archer was simply his old habits coming to light again.
Old habits that Atticus refused to give in to.
He was not that guy anymore. More importantly, he did not want to be that guy anymore.
Being with Slade and Carson, while not as fulfilling as he’d anticipated, had opened his eyes to possibilities.
He wasn’t broken. He could feel things. And he wanted to feel those things.
He didn’t want to hop from one bed to the next, walking away satisfied but ultimately incomplete.
He wanted … more.
One day.
When the time was right.
Sitting up straight, Atticus exhaled a harsh breath. “It’s nothing. Really. I’m sorry for the comment. I assure you, it will not happen again.”
He expected Archer to say something, but when he scrounged up the courage to meet his gaze again, he found the man staring at him. He wasn’t sure whether that was disappointment or relief in those electric blue eyes.
Whatever it was, Atticus was ignoring it because it didn’t matter.
“We should get back to work. I’d like to have an action plan in place by the time Brantley and Reese get here.”
“Action plan.” Archer’s shoulders relaxed. “Right. Works for me.”
“Okay, so we’ve got—” He stopped when his phone buzzed, glancing down at the screen to see Carson’s name. “I need to take this.”
Atticus grabbed his phone and headed to the bedroom he would be occupying. He didn’t bother closing the door.
“Hey.”
“Hey. You got a minute to talk?” Carson asked, his voice smooth, erotic almost.