Chapter 5 ARCHER
ARCHER
“Iguess I expected you to carry your stress at the beginning of the day.” Fletch wanders closer, winking at Minka and smirking that way he does when he knows it annoys me. “Can’t believe you’re getting more tense as the night goes on.”
“Shit always gets worse when the sun goes down.” I tug an empty chair out on my left and wait for him to sit down. “Things go bump in the night, Charlie Fletcher. You didn’t know that?”
“I do. I just prefer to avoid thinking about these things if I can help it.” He lazily reaches halfway across the table, snagging a three-quarters full carafe of water and an unused glass, then settling back again, he pours most of the way to the top.
“Already had three beers. Probably should switch to water now, right?”
“Three beers over four hours?” Minka crosses her legs beneath the table, yards of heavy gown draping over what I know to be a bandaged knee underneath. “Considering your weight, I’d say you’re technically still safe to drive. Do you feel intoxicated?”
“Nope. But I’m thirsty as fuck.” He sets the carafe down and snatches up the glass, drinking half in three long, noisy gulps that end with an ahhhh. “Chugging alcohol is gonna get me in trouble, and those first three beers went down smooth. This is me making responsible choices, Delicious.”
“Then have at it.” She picks up a fork not yet cleared by the waitstaff and turns it between her fingers. “What time is it?”
“A little past eleven. Way past my daughter’s bedtime. But every time I suggest we go, she says no.” He sets the water down and twists in his chair, staring at the duo on the dance floor. “She’s Cinderella, and she’s not done with this night.”
“You’re supposed to be the king of that castle,” I tease. “The boss. The authority.”
In my peripherals, Cordoza stands from his table and heads toward the doors leading into the hall, three guards quickly moving on his heels.
“You’re the dad, aren’t you?” I drag my focus back around. Anything to stop Minka from worrying. Analyzing. Overthinking on my behalf. “You say bed, she’s supposed to say, Yes, sir.”
“Yeah, right.” Smirking, he turns his glass on the table and creates a water circle against the crisp table linen.
“She hasn’t had a chance to hang out with Sera this much in ages, and she’s wearing such a pretty dress.
She’s not giving this day up for anybody.
” He tips his chin toward the dance floor. “You and Banks kissed and made up yet?”
I follow his gaze and stop on the irritating Detective Drake Banks draped over his future-medical-examiner girlfriend. For just a moment, while he’s looking at her, he seems like a decent dude. But like he feels my stare, he peers this way and sours.
“Guess not.” Fletch laughs. “It’s ironic how much shit he gives you for the family you come from, but when Felix walks past, he says nothing.”
“Makes him a pussy. He’s got too much time on his hands and nothing to do with it except bitch about me.
He has no partner, which means Lieutenant Fabian assigns him no cases, so he’s bored and lonely.
” I lift my chin, just to piss him off. “He hates that the highlight of his day is whatever sloppy seconds work we toss his way.”
“Or perhaps he’s a sensible man,” Minka counters tersely.
“Mouthing off to a Malone at a Malone wedding is hardly the smartest choice one could make. Maybe he wants no partner, because the last one left him with a metric ton of trauma. And perhaps he takes your unwanted cases, because he wants to be helpful. Which beats telling you to fuck yourself.”
I reach across and steal her fork. “He tells me to fuck myself. Daily. And you’re not supposed to be on his side. Marriage means unfaltering loyalty, remember?”
“Loyalty to you and the life we’ve made together?
Sure.” She plucks the utensil back, her eyes glittering with victory.
“But I owe no such loyalty to anyone unevolved enough to forgo the schoolyard spats. You enjoy taunting him, and he likes arguing back. Believe it or not, but you and Detective Banks are friends. You simply lack the maturity to admit it.”
“Am not.” I slump in my chair and meet Fletch’s eyes. “She’s mean to me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the king of your castle?” He taunts. “The boss. The authority.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“That reminds me.” He jumps to his feet and dashes toward the dancing couple. The music masks whatever Fletch says, but Drake’s bitter gaze sails this way anyway, his heated intolerance boiling the side of my face.
Whatever they talk about, it doesn’t endear the prick to me.
After just a moment, Fletch takes off again, disappearing through the dancing crowd and out of sight.
“For fuck’s sake.” I straighten my spine and prepare for Drake’s bad temper, because he takes Rory’s hand and turns this way. I snatch back Minka’s fork. Just in case. “What’d that traitor bastard say to him?”
“Probably something about how you wish to make amends, become best friends, and braid each other’s hair.”
Irritated, I purse my lips and meet her gaze.
“Or not,” she snickers. “But all that fun you had at my expense when I found out Taylor did not, in fact, have a penis? Same.” She thrusts up from her seat and turns a stunning grin on our newcomers.
“Detective Banks.” She moves around the back of my chair and accepts his polite peck on the cheek.
Then she turns to Rory—less capable of playing nice with one of her own.
“Seems your leg is getting better with every day that passes.”
“I guess.” Rory slides her palm over the silky folds of her royal blue gown. “They said it would, since I’m so young and blah, blah, blah.”
Steeling myself, I tilt my head left—crack—and right—crack—then I palm the fork and slowly rise from my seat.
I guess I’ve gotta say hello… or some shit.
“Ms. Swanson.” I paste on my most charming smile and do for her what Drake did for Minka.
Kiss. Then I pull back and ignore the prick completely. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you.” She blushes a charming red, all the way down her neck. “I was honored to receive an invitation.”
“Which is so weird, seeing as how I didn’t get one.” Drake whips his hand forward and pumps mine—once, twice, three times—before relieving me of my weapon and slipping it into his pocket. “Figure it must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”
“Nope. Aubree asked me to deliver it myself, since she rarely sees you.” I click my tongue. “Guess I forgot.”
“We knew you would escort Rory.” Minka takes my hand and squeezes it, the way mothers squeeze bratty little kids in the grocery store. “How are things, Detective? Good?”
“All good here.” He wraps his arm across Rory’s back, anchoring himself on her hip. I know damn well he takes a portion of her weight, helping her exactly how I help Minka when she’s tired. “Rory’s been doing her hours at the hospital lately. She’s amazing.”
“I know.” Minka beams. “I like to keep tabs on my future medical examiners. I have no use for dropouts and lazy techs.”
“I’m back!” Fletch bounds into our grouping, dragging poor Officer Clay closer and depositing him amongst us like a cat delivering a dead mouse.
“Detective Drake Banks, I’d like for you to meet Officer Brady Clay.
Drake used to be some big hotshot somewhere else, a fed of some sort, I dunno.
He has a decent list of accomplishments, hardly any mentions in his file about being an asshole—” Fletch stops and meets Rory’s eyes.
“Excuse the language, Ms. Swanson.” But then he happily adds, “Banks now works with us out of the Downtown precinct.”
Confused, Clay’s eyes grow wide. “Err…”
“Drake Banks, meet Brady Clay. Clay is tenacious, intelligent, sensible, brave, and the unlucky recipient of incompetent leadership. He works mostly out of Midtown, except when we borrow him. But Midtown is where the idiots hang out. Captain over there is a dickhead, Lieutenant lacks balls, and TOs are in short supply.”
Clay’s cheeks fire a bright, burning red.
“We’ve met,” Drake drawls. “Multiple times. Did you forget?”
“I did not. But one must consider the context in these matters. In the past, you’ve either worked in opposite directions or there was that one time he took a bullet for Ms. Swanson. He was busy not dying, and you were busy keeping her free of lead.”
“And I’m so thankful for your tactful reminder,” Rory growls. She places her hand on Clay’s arm. “Are you well, Officer?”
“Uh… y-yeah, Ms. Swanson. Healthy as a horse.”
“Banks needs a partner,” Fletch announces. “Clay needs leadership.”
“Absolutely not.” Drake stalks back a step, dragging Rory with him. “I don’t need a puppy. I don’t want a puppy. I will not have a puppy.”
“I don’t need…” Clay’s face practically fucking glows. “It’s okay, Detective. I don’t—”
“I’m not asking,” Fletch counters. “Drake’s getting the dregs of whatever cases no one else wants, because he’s new and has no partner.
He’s an asset to our precinct and should be utilized appropriately.
You’re a bundle of massive potential, wasting away without direction and consistent leadership.
We have a one and a one, now we make a two. ”
“I said no,” Drake snarls. “It’s not happening.”
“But he took Rory’s bullet.” Too sweet, too perfect, Minka flutters her lashes. “He saved her life, Detective. Is that not something you’re thankful for?”
“No—I—You…” Drake’s eyes swing desperately to Rory. “It’s not like that, I swear. It’s just—”
“It would be a shame to leave such a gifted officer without adequate leadership, don’t you think?” Rory grins, smug with the hook she expertly threads through his lip. “He saved my life, Drake.”
“I saved your life, woman! I did it.”
“I mean…” Finally, Clay speaks up for himself. “Only one of us took a bullet for her, sir…”
“It would mean so much to me.” Rory turns and stands toe-to-toe with the fumbling former undercover agent, fearless despite the very real danger he poses to most others. But not her. “Detectives Malone and Fletcher already have partners. But Brady is left to those Midtown knobs.”
“Knobs?” He sputters. “Don’t say knob!”
“I worry for him,” she sighs. “He was so brave when I needed help. So strong and kind. And I believe he was on track for a partner back then. But then he got hurt… for me. By the time he got back from medical leave, that partner was passed on to someone else.” She holds him by the lapel of his shirt and inches up until she’s high enough to press a kiss to his lips.
“It would make me immeasurably happy if you taught Officer Clay all the things he needs to know.”
“Rory—”
“I could kiss you.” She does so a second time. “Thank you. Appreciate you. Or…” She lowers to flat feet and peeks my way. “I could ask Detective Malone to find someone else, at which point I’ll thank him. Appreciate him. Perhaps even a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.”
“I’m not dealing with the paperwork.” Drake burns Fletch with a glare that promises pain.
“The kid isn’t even a downtown officer, which means you motherfuckers have all that red tape to deal with first. If, in the future, his lieutenant and Fabian come to an agreement and rubber-stamp that shit, I’ll consider letting him ride in my car. ”
“Excellent.” Fletch claps his shoulder, loud and just heavy enough to shuffle the man an inch to the side. “I got the green light on Thursday night.”
Drake’s face drains white. “What?”
“I’m a forward thinker, Detective, and I knew, even without you, Officer Clay needed out of Midtown.
” Turning to Brady, he extends his hand.
“It’s official, Pup. You’re one of us now.
Shift starts at nine o’clock Monday morning.
Detective Banks will run you through orientation, find you a locker, snag a desk, and shove it against his, and then, by nine-fifteen, you’ll have your first case to run with your brand-new big brother. Don’t be late.”
“Er…” Clay gulps nervously. “Th-th-thank you.”
Fletch meets my eyes and flashes a blinding grin. “Nailed it.”