Chapter 20 Minka
MINKA
The elevator stops on the lobby level of the George Stanley, my mind on escape, my knee blissfully not catching on to my pants.
Before I truly think about my destination, I glide out of the elevator and move across the stark white tile, aiming for the revolving glass door.
It’s not until I arrive outside in the filthy heat, a hundred-degree gust of wind slamming me in the face, that I remember I’m not walking to the apartment tonight.
I’m supposed to find a car and drive my ass up the hills.
“Shit.” I swing back around again, frustrated at the prospect of riding in a crappy George Stanley vehicle. This is why living two blocks from work is good! This is why—
“Chief Mayet?” A closing car door echoes behind me, then footsteps pound on the sidewalk.
Finally, the frenzied clicks and shutters of flashing cameras register in my mind.
I glance right and spy a dozen douchebags with cameras—the still image type—and one extra douchey douchebag with the recording kind perched on his shoulder.
“What the—”
“Today would’ve been Alana Lyons’ birthday, Chief Mayet! She would’ve been fourteen years old. Still a child, even all these years later. Are you proud of your part in bringing the Body-In-The-Bag killer to justice?”
“Who the hell are you?” I stumble backwards and jump when a pair of hands grabs on. “The fu—”
“Come with me, Chief.” Harrison—the Harrison from New York—calmly steers me toward the street. “I’m driving you to the house today.”
“Chief Mayet!” One of the camera assholes shoves closer. “Do you have something to say to Alana’s loved ones? A message you’d like for them to hear?”
Harrison opens the back door of a shiny black SUV and uses his broad body to shield me from the others. “Mr. Malone assigned me to you this week.”
“Who the hell are they?” I ignore the lot of them, the socks-and-sandals getup, and the perpetual-basement-dweller vibes rolling off their rounded bellies. “Why are they—”
“Two are from local news stations, I believe. The rest are documentary makers. Their timing is irritatingly impeccable.” He helps me into the back and looks me up and down. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I toss my bag and snag my seatbelt. “Thanks.”
He closes the door and slides into the front, moving away from my building in less time than it takes for me to fasten the silver buckle into the seatbelt catch.
“I’m sorry you walked into that, Chief. I received my assignment only twenty minutes ago, and when I arrived, they were already there.
I was considering calling your office and instructing you to head down to the garage, but I wasn’t sure if you were done for the day, and I didn’t want to interrupt—”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to freak out.
” I lean across and sweep up my bag, and, fishing my phone from its dark depths, I straighten out again and rest the back of my head against the seat.
Breathe. In. Out. While my body sways with traffic, my brain aches after a long day dealing with someone else’s guards. Just breathe.
“Is someone picking Archer up, too?”
“He has his truck, Chief. But Smith will follow him up the hill.”
Smith? Another name. Another guy. “Okay.”
“Are you alright, Doctor Mayet?” I feel the warmth of his stare, even while my eyes remain firmly shut. “Are you injured? If I gripped your arm too forcefully, I apologize. I was attempting to remove you from an escalating situation, but if—”
“You didn’t hurt me.” My phone vibrates in my hand. Better yet, Archer’s ringtone trills throughout the cab of a luxury SUV. Blindly, I accept the call and bring my hand up to my ear. “Detective Malone?”
“Hey.” Soft music plays on the other end of our call. Wind pounds against an open window. “You still at the office?”
“Just left.” It’s amazing how much easier it is to breathe now. “Somehow landed in a car with one of Felix’s men. You?”
“On my way home. Wasn’t sure if I’d beat you by five minutes or five hours. How was your day?”
“Shit. You didn’t call me. You didn’t even text.”
He chokes out a strained laugh. “I wanted to. I even begged Fletch to tell me to call you.”
“Since when did you need his permission?”
He exhales a long, breathy sigh. “I knew Cordoza was sitting on your shoulder, and I’m fully aware it’s my fault. I didn’t want to make things worse for you.”
“Hardly your fault, Archer. You didn’t kill Agosti, and no matter how loudly Cordoza insists you did, that doesn’t make it a fact.”
“True. But he’s here anyway, and he had men inside your building.
That would never have happened if not for knowing me.
I didn’t want to make a crappy day worse on the off chance his guards had a problem with me calling.
Maybe Cordoza had ordered them to cut us off, so I wouldn’t influence your autopsy or whatever. ”
“Yeah? Well…” I feel the warmth of Harrison’s gentle study in the mirror, but instead of meeting his gaze, I lay my head back and close my eyes, falling into a world where only Archer and I exist. “Cordoza’s guards were up my ass the entire day.
I couldn’t even pee without one of them waiting outside the door. ”
“Did they…” Rage bubbles on his tongue, sizzling in his blood. “Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?”
I could mobilize the Malone army with a single word. A softly spoken yes is all it would take.
But would it be the right thing to do? Not necessarily.
“Minka?”
“No. They didn’t hurt me. They didn’t even touch me.”
“But?”
I bring my free hand up and drag my fingers through my hair.
“One of them has an extremely weak stomach,” I snicker.
“He couldn’t hack it when I pulled Agosti’s large intestine out.
Another has a strained relationship with his mother that, I believe, negatively impacts his romantic relationships. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Harrison barks out a laugh so startling that by the time I open my eyes again, he’s back to normal. Composed. Silent. Professional.
“Four men stared holes into the side of my face today, Archer. I believe one of them struggles with nicotine addiction, and even though he knows better, I’m pretty sure he takes anabolic steroids, too.
I think maybe one of them is a dad, and if that’s true, I think she’s a little girl.
Can’t say for sure, but that’s what my gut is telling me. ”
“Oh…kay? You got chatty with them?”
“I got chatty with myself,” I giggle, finally releasing some of the pent-up tension I’ve bottled while pretending to be an extrovert. “I narrated my autopsy and noticed certain reactions to uncomfortable topics. Each time I hit a target, I dug in deeper and tormented them with it.”
“You were trying to make them puke?”
“I did make one of them puke. Though I admit, he lasted longer than I expected. I find his squeamishness ironic, considering the career path he’s chosen. Oh, and I called Cordoza this afternoon.”
Harrison’s eyes swing back to mine in the mirror.
“Kinda threatened him.”
“Minka!” Archer snarls, the squeal of tires on the road following right after. “What did you do?”
“He was being a bully, so I told him I would call Michelle and snitch.”
“You… what?”
“Suggested his love for her was more powerful than his need to control me. He insisted that Agosti’s body remain inside the George Stanley indefinitely: I disagreed.
When he argued, I informed him of my intention to call Michelle.
Tattling to a pregnant woman is not good for her stress levels, which is, obviously, not good for the baby.
This was the point that Estefan grudgingly accepted my terms and promised to remove his men immediately.
Fortunately for me, this means I never have to see Anthony Agosti’s ugly face or naked, dead body ever again.
” I close my eyes and luxuriate in the icy chill of the car’s air conditioning.
“It was a positive discussion, if you ask me.”
“Sure, except now you’ve made an enemy,” Archer growls. “Somehow, the man my entire family was trained to fear is nothing more than an ant for you to torment with a magnifying glass. Pleased with your efforts, Chief?”
“I know you’re being sarcastic, but yeah, I am pleased.
” I drop my hand, letting it flop onto the bench seat beside my thigh.
“He needed to back off, and Ellie is a sword I’m able to wield.
I caused no harm, not really, and I assured Cordoza I would not lie down and allow myself to be walked over. Maintaining boundaries is important.”
“Minka—”
“I performed the autopsy and did as he asked. I risked everything to examine a guy I wouldn’t share a dinner table with. I held up my end of the deal. Also, I was sad when you didn’t text me all day.”
He blows out a heavy breath, releasing his frustration and following me onto a new track. New conversation. “I’m sorry I didn’t make contact. I thought I was doing the right thing. Even now, calling you, I worried it would put you in a shitty situation.”
“Nah. The gallant Mr. Harrison picked me up from work and saved me from camera-wielding savages. This isn’t the first time they’ve ambushed me outside my office, Detective. Is there no law protecting me from this bullshit?”
“Pretty sure the First Amendment allows for freedom of the press. You don’t want to be photographed, but…”
“What does the law say about my freedom to wield a flamethrower? If I’m carrying it in a public place and they just so happen to walk into my flames…?”
He chuckles. “That would be a crime, Chief. Did they bother you a lot?”
“I stumbled right into the snake pit,” I sigh. “Didn’t even think to check before I walked outside. Is there something wrong with my eyebrows?”
“Ah…” He silences for a beat. “I don’t know what you mean.”