Chapter 4 MINKA
MINKA
“Who wants me dead?” Soph’s dark brown eyes burn against the side of my face. She dances with her husband—sort of—draping her arms over his shoulders while his glare scours the room above my head. “Who has my name on their murder board? Tell me now, or forever experience my wrath.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” I tip my head forward and bash it against Archer’s chest. “Let me dance in peace, I beg you.”
“Just tell me what you know, and I’ll leave you be. Is it Preston?” She grabs my hair and tugs me back. “He’s one of our newer hires, and he’s always got this glint in his eyes.”
I lift a single, questioning brow. “A glint?”
“Yes! Like he’s always thinking of something funny. Like he’s always got a joke. It’s not possible that someone can be that happy that often. Is it Preston?”
“Doubtful.” I brush her hand away and plaster my body to my husband’s. “Pretty sure it’s not Preston.”
“Knowing who it’s not means you know who it is.” Soph takes a step forward, too, mirroring my pose and laying her cheek on Jay’s chest so we dance eye to eye. “Is it him?” She makes a show of jutting her chin forward, gesturing past me.
With a noisy sigh and all the strength I can summon, I turn my face and catch an eyeful of the mayor’s adult daughter dancing with her husband.
“Jen’s degree makes her a perfect candidate for scientific research that could change the world.
The chick has a massive brain inside that pretty head, and we all know it.
Her opportunities are endless, but she splits her time between me and this project she’s been working on.
Corey loves her, which means he wants what’s best for her, right? ”
I don’t sigh again. I won’t. But I lean against an impossibly patient Archer and drag my head back around. “One would assume a loving husband wants the best for his wife.”
“Exactly! But he knows she won’t leave me for as long as I live.” She wrinkles her nose. “Is it him?”
“Soph—”
“I’d hate to lose him, considering our years of teamwork and his flying skills. But if it’s between my life and his—”
I choke out an exhausted laugh. “You’d turn on your own crew so easily?”
“Please don’t kill him,” Archer rumbles. “This discussion makes the crime premeditated. I’ll be compelled to testify against you in court.”
“I don’t see the insides of courtrooms, Detective.” Her eyes flicker back to mine. “Is it him or not? I don’t wanna hit wrong and make an enemy of the Lawrence family.”
“It’s not him.” I drop my arms and wrap them around Archer’s ribs instead of his shoulders. “I promise.”
“So you know who it is.” She shoots her gaze around the room, searching for her next target. “Doubt it’s the other Rosa. He’s solid, and technically, he’s married to my sister. His loyalty to her probably keeps his murderous urges under control.”
“The things we do for our spouses,” Archer drawls. “Life sure would be easier if our beloved simply didn’t have murderous urges.”
“You get what you get, Detective. And you don’t get upset.” She continues her scan of the room. “I know I considered Riley in the past, but he’s looking forward to this new leg we have in pre-production. It’s not set for use until Christmas, and the hippie said I was dead in October, right?”
“Right.” She’s exhausting, but I’ve had more taxing conversations with less Archer to rest against, so I snuggle into his chest and enjoy the constant, strong beat of his heart.
There’s no anxiety now. Not even a nervous thrum.
And that’s with Sophia Solomon so close.
I suppose he’s finally come to accept her annoying presence in my life. “Probably not Riley.”
Suspicious, she inches away from Jay and stares up into his eyes. Silence. Probing. Skepticism. But then she shakes her head and settles again. “Nah. Not him.”
Jay purses his lips.
“Ya know, this could all go away if you simply stopped being obnoxious toward Aubree.” I lift my shoulders in a barely there, hardly moving shrug. “But what do I know?”
“Exactly.” Soph grabs my hair again. “Tell me what you know.”
“Let go of my hair, or I’ll tear the arm clear off your body.” I flash a challenging smile and shove her away with a hand on her hip. “Don’t touch.”
“Ew. Why the hell would Estefan bring him here?” Ellie Solomon—Soph’s baby sister—crashes against us on my other side, her shoulder slamming into mine, and her husband, all seven feet and who knows how many pounds of pure muscle, wedging us in.
Archer and I have become the meat in a Solomon sandwich.
“Seems Anthony Agosti has crawled out of the sewers I thought he’d died and started decomposing in. ”
Archer tilts his head back and stares up at the glittering ceiling. “For fuck’s sake.”
“It’s just weird, that’s all. Estefan is typically very protective of me.” She scrunches her nose, much the same way Soph does. “From the moment I saw that weasel at the church, I’ve wondered why Estefan would bring him. Especially knowing I’d be here.”
“Why would your attendance factor in?” I glance up at Archer, questioning. “I don’t understand.”
Troy growls, low and dangerous, in the back of his throat. “Agosti’s late son thought consent was optional.”
“And you…” My heart beats heavily against my diaphragm. “Introduced him to a shallow grave?”
Troy shakes his head. “It all went down before I met her. Tony Mancino—”
“The man I called Papa,” Ellie clarifies. “He was my father… in a way.”
“Tony Mancino whacked him,” Soph finishes. “I hope he made it hurt, too.”
“But that’s what makes all this so odd,” Ellie continues. “Estefan has always cared for me. He always made exceptions for me. The fact that he allowed Mancino to kill Agosti is a big deal.”
“Allowed?” I search the underside of Archer’s jaw. For answers. For explanation. “Why wouldn’t he? You touch without permission, you deserve to die. It’s pretty simple.”
“One family cannot kill members of another family,” Archer grits out, slowly dragging his eyes down to mine. “It’s not permitted.”
“Permitted by who?”
“By our world. By the rules governing families like mine. I told you in the past: you can’t shoot a man on his own front lawn, you can’t take a shot at the boss unless you’re prepared to eat cement, and one family cannot attack another.
It’s…” He shakes his head. “Malone… Mancino… Agosti… there are rules we must follow. Without them, shit turns to chaos, and the city becomes a battlefield.”
“But when Agosti attacked Ellie, was that not him taking the first shot? Mancino didn’t start it. He ended it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Soph counters. “Estefan was within his rights to wipe Mancino out for what he did. Agosti didn’t cause damage.
” She grits her teeth, displeased with the words crossing her tongue.
“I won’t debate specifics, since you know my stance on the matter.
But by their standards, Agosti’s hands were clean. Mancino broke the rules.”
“Estefan allowed it, and he made assurances Agosti would never bother me again. New York is not as large as people like to think, and the social circles my family was involved with meant Agosti and I attended several mutual functions over the years. I expected it. I was prepared. Agosti kept his distance, and Estefan considered himself my escort. But here?” Ellie looks around.
“At a wedding on the other side of the country, between a Malone who doesn’t rule anyway, and a woman with no connection at all? Why would Estefan bring him?”
“Trying to figure that out, Slim.” Troy draws her close and shields her from the man they speak of. Dark hair, thick brows, alabaster skin, and a couple of thick, gold rings circling his fingers.
He appears dangerous, I suppose. In that traditional, made-man way we see in the movies. Agosti isn’t nearly as old as Estefan, and despite the slight paunch of his stomach, he’s hardly overweight.
I feel Archer’s stare on the side of my face. His tormented glare, growing more severe with every second I catalog the group who are clearly other inside a wedding where half the guests grow their own wildflowers.
“Who is she?” I tilt my chin toward the young woman standing beside a seated Agosti. She wears a luxurious green gown that pushes her breasts up, squeezes her stomach, and accentuates an ass that lacks the plump she, perhaps, used to possess. “She looks underfed.”
Soph follows my gaze, her fingers twining and fidgeting behind Jay’s neck. “His wife… fifth, I believe.”
I narrow my eyes and bring them back to Archer. “Does he do to his wives what your father did to his?”
“Probably.” He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, a deep rumble reverberating through his chest to make his annoyance audible. “Except Tim didn’t even have the decency to marry them first.”
“You don’t think Estefan’s looking to give Agosti a boost, do you, Soph?”
The family resemblance between Ellie and her sister is strong. The sharp cheekbones. Pert nose. The dancer’s bodies and long, brown hair. No one would accuse them of being twins, but certainly, all of humanity can see they’re cut from the same cloth.
But where Soph remains hard always, battle weary and ready for the next round, Ellie is a little softer.
“He’s practically broke,” the softer Solomon murmurs. “And his business ventures long ago fizzled out. Why would Estefan prop him back up like this?”
“Just because he’s here doesn’t mean he’s being propped up.
” Soph brings her gaze back to her sister.
“Don’t let it worry you, okay? Cordoza cares for you, and Agosti no longer has claws.
If anything, I suspect Cordoza brought him along as nothing more than a caged pet to be humiliated and placed on display. ”
Archer snarls in the back of his throat. “Cordoza’s old enough and smart enough to know better. Pets are to stay home, lest they defecate on the dance floor.”
“Pleasant mental imagery.” I rest against his chest once more, lay my ear over his pounding heart, and consider how much longer we have to stay. “Can the Solomons go away yet? I wanna dance with my husband, and talking about ugly middle-aged men with receding hairlines is dragging me down.”
“Rude.” But Soph slips out of Jay’s hold and circles behind my back. She grabs her sister by the hand before leading her and the men away.
“Can we leave yet?” I finger Archer’s tie, fussing with the silky fabric to distract myself from the eyes I feel on the back of my head. “Aubree and Tim are married. The cake has been served. You and I danced, even. That’s enough, right?”
“Yeah.”
He says one thing, but his shifting eyes over the top of my head, his heated gaze moving from Felix and Christabelle, to Micah, to Tim, to Cato, say something else entirely.
“You’re worried about them?” I fold backwards and draw his face down. “You’re scared of me being out of your sight for even a second, so much so that you tracked me down and fucked away your frustrations. But you’re scared for them, too?”
“Wary.” He gently tugs himself free of my grip. “Prepared to step in before anyone starts anything.”
“Do you expect anyone to start anything? This isn’t a typical New York event, right? Tim isn’t your father, and Aubree has nothing to do with any of them.”
He massages my back, digging his fingers into tense muscles like he knew they were giving me trouble. But he doesn’t break focus on the guards surrounding the room.
Felix’s and Cordoza’s.
Checkmate.
Resigned, I wrap my arms around his waist and move in closer. “So I guess we’re staying till they leave, huh? I’m with you, Archer. Wherever. For however long it takes.”
He breathes a sigh of relief and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Thank you.”