Chapter Archer
ARCHER
Now that I’m commuting up and down the hill every day for work, rather than the leisurely two-block stroll I’ve become accustomed to over the last couple of years, my truck almost never sees the long-term parking garage it once called home.
It’s constantly dusty now, and comes with a hairline crack in the windshield, because of the rocks other cars flick up as we pass.
The truck I once considered my pride and joy, since it was basically the only thing in my life besides Fletch and Mia that brought me happiness, is now just a truck.
Still shiny, still kinda sexy, but not all that babied anymore.
Felix would prefer I ride in the back of an SUV driven by someone else. Minka probably feels the same way, though she hasn’t said so out loud.
Personally, I just want to get from Point-A to Point-B as quickly as possible, because Point-B is wherever she is. And she’s where I want to be. Always.
I make my way up the hill now, later than I intended to end my day, but the sun is not yet below the horizon, and Minka hasn’t sent a text yet that says I’ve abandoned her and why don’t I love her anymore?
So really, all is well.
Scott and Geoffrey Prim spin through my mind on repeat, their smug grins, their assholes-R-us self-importance.
Their disregard for a dead girl’s life. Their sister, the forgotten child.
Then I think of Tairneyy and the way her dad hugged her.
The way he held each of his children, and his wife, and proved a real man has enough space for them all.
I think of Minka and her dad. The one who still haunts her. The one who left scars on her heart.
He was a good man, so far as I can gather, but he checked out when she was just a kid, and left her with a crippling fear of rejection. Just like Josey was.
And then, since I have fathers on my mind, I think of Drake Banks’ and mine.
Two different men, two different sides of the law.
Special Agent Henry Banks was, according to my intel, a complete sack of shit who pushed his son harder and faster up the DEA ranks than was fair.
And Timothy Malone the Second… he simply pushed me.
He pushed my brothers. He tormented us the instant he realized we wouldn’t be the yes sir, no sir soldiers he hoped to breed, and when he deemed us useless, his torment turned to torture.
His cruelty knew no bounds.
At least he’s dead now.
I bring my truck up the hill, around gentle bends, and under the sweeping branches of weeping trees, and though I catch the telltale glint of sunlight flickering off the bumper of an SUV Felix pays to follow me, I neither gun it to escape him, nor do I slow down to make his job easier.
I just do me, and when my phone trills with an incoming call, I check the name on my screen and answer with a smile.
“Chief.” I set our call on speaker and place the device on my thigh.
“I want applause for how I’m handling our newest change in circumstances.
I’m not even stalking the halls of your building and scaring your employees away. ”
“I’m applauding,” she drawls playfully. “Which change of circumstances, specifically?”
“The trial medication, I sincerely hope Jen didn’t fuck up. Where are you?”
“In the car with Harrison. We left the office a minute ago. Where are you?”
“Mm.” A long, satisfied hum rolls through my chest as I study my rear-view mirror.
“I’m about ten minutes ahead of you. Pulling into our driveway right now.
” I slow the truck and merge right, moving from a gravelly city-maintained road to the crisp, clean driveway my father paid a small fortune to install back in the day.
“Guess I’ll save my gentle interrogation for when you get here, then. ”
“Gentle interrogation,” she snorts. “Uh-huh. Sure, Detective. Catch a killer today?”
“Not yet.” I move through the massive wrought iron gate guarding our property, then around the circular driveway so I can park, but without being in the way of the front door.
That’s where Minka’s car stops.
Cutting the engine and snagging my phone and keys, I push out until my boots touch the ground and, already, one of Felix’s men strides forward in expectation. “Want me to put it away, Mr. Malone?”
“Nah. I’m not done with it yet today.” I start toward the house and slip my hand into my pocket. “Fall ill today, Chief? How’s your blood sugar? Headaches? Stomach ulcers? You’re not bleeding from places you shouldn’t be bleeding, right?”
“This is your non-interrogation?” She snickers. “I can’t wait for the gentle interrogation you have planned for us.”
“Just doing my due diligence before solidifying the rest of our evening’s plans. If you’re well, I wanna take you out. If you’re not, we’ll stay in, and I’ll stare while you sleep, since I’m kinda terrified you won’t wake up again tomorrow.”
“Out?” Curiosity pulses between us like waves at the beach. Like warmth on a hot road. “Out where?”
“On a date. We haven’t acknowledged our summer wedding anniversary yet. It would be a shame to miss it.”
“Yes, we have!” she laughs. “In fact, I feel like it’s been mentioned multiple times.”
“Oh, well…” I move past a guard stationed by the smaller gates shielding our front entryway, across sleek tiles I personally think are ugly as fuck, then through the front door until the delicious scent of something garlicky and delicious makes my stomach jump.
“I’m starving, Minnnka, so if I wanna celebrate my wedding anniversary every single day of the year, then I guess that’s something I’m gonna do. I’d prefer you joined me.”
“Fine.” She releases a breathy mock sigh. “I’m not unwell, not bleeding, no weird side effects, still a little buzzed on the pep, but it’s not a bad buzz, it’s just a standard morning after infusion buzz, which I kinda like.”
“Mmm. That probably means I’m gonna get lucky tonight.” I stride along the hall, past the staircase, and into the kitchen, only to skid to a stop at Steve’s unimpressed glare. He slumps on a stool and glowers, while behind him, Mary prepares dinner.
“I seem to recall both of us getting lucky this morning,” Minka argues. “And last night in the pool. And didn’t we spend a little time in the shower together yesterday? And—”
“Uh-huh. Cool. Love you. See you soon.”
“Wh—”
I end our call with a chuckle and slip the phone into my pocket.
I wouldn’t typically hang up on my darling wife before she was ready to be done, but she’s safe with Harrison, and it’s not often I get time to speak to Steve without her around, so I move to the fridge, peruse my options, then I select a can of Coke and turn back to the surly old man.
“I’d offer you one, but caffeine’s probably not good for your heart, huh? ”
He watches me through shrewd eyes, following my movements as I come around the massive stone counter and pull up a stool to his left.
He flattens his lips and works hard in my peripheral vision to make droopy appear a little scary. “You may be a married man, Detective, but Doctor Mayet is still a lady. Perhaps you could consider a more respectful way of communication.”
Because I mentioned getting lucky? I’ll take your feedback on board. “How are you feeling today?” I pop the seal on my soda and cast a quick glance Mary’s way. “Anything to report?”
“I can speak for myself, Detective.” The strength in Steve’s voice pleases me.
The attitude he brings with that strength amuses me.
He loves our Minka the way Tairneyy Keen’s dad loved Josey.
Both too shy to admit it. But the love remains.
The protection, too. “My specialist team is pleased with my recovery. My wound is closing well. My medication schedule has been modified for maximum benefit. My tolerance for a brisk walk around the yard is increasing, my water intake is satisfactory, my sleep is consistent and restful, and Mary seems pleased with my progress.”
Curious, I glance across and catch her satisfied nod.
“I appreciate your hospitality, Detective Malone, but I assure you, I’m working as quickly as possible. I won’t be a bother inside your home for much longer.”
“You think I want you out?” Chuckling, I bring my soda up and take a long pull of the icy cold liquid until I feel the chill race along my throat and into the base of my belly.
Bringing it down again, I meet his muddy brown eyes, both shrouded with long eyebrows he’s never considered trimming, then I flash a bright smile that disarms the cranky fool who came into this discussion thinking I was sick of him.
“I ask about your recovery, not because I’m booting you out, but because I want to be sure you’re well enough to return to work. ”
“That’s what I just—”
“And then, when I’m certain you’re back to fighting fit, I intend to offer you a job.”
“A j—” He flounders for sense. For something useful to say. His jowls wobble, and his lips flap. “What?”
“You have decades of experience successfully managing a building and its tenants. You have excellent administration and organizational skills, keep a tight maintenance schedule, and not once in all the time managing Minka’s building have you skimmed off the top, mismanaged contractors, or allowed your tenants to suffer in an uninhabitable apartment. ”
“How… but…” Close your mouth, old man, or you might swallow a fly. “What?”
“Which part do you need clarification on?” I look to Mary, then back to him again. “I’m not sure where you’re getting caught up.”
“You’re being rude,” Mary admonishes quietly. And since she’s feeling brave, she leans across the counter and taps my arm.
If she were my father, she would’ve shot me point-blank.
“Mr. Morris, I believe Archer is attempting to congratulate you on many years of service at your current place of employment. He was raised without manners, though, so he lacks the social skills to express his thoughts appropriately.”