Chapter 24 Minka
MINKA
The sound of splashing water travels through the house, weaving along the tiled hallway and bouncing up to pat my chest as I step across the threshold and look left.
Then right. Every door is open, every window wide, allowing the pathetic summer breeze to come through.
It doesn’t seem to matter that the air conditioning is on; the Malone boys were raised with entirely too little respect for money.
Though I suppose that was a nice counterweight to a complete loss of body autonomy and a horribly traumatic upbringing.
“I can swim, Cato! Watch me. I can do it!”
“That’s sinking, McStinkerson!” Cato’s laugh travels all the way to the front door, his joy smacking me in the face and almost canceling out the bitch of a day I’ve had.
Their happiness is infectious, but my exhaustion is unrelenting, crushing me the way a one-ton boulder would if it sat upon my shoulders.
Cato’s laughter ends with a splash, replaced a moment later with Mia’s squealing giggles and cackling glee.
“That’s not swimming, McStinkerson! You’re not a fish.”
“I wanna be a fish! I wanna be a mermaid, and that’s the same as a fish, isn’t it?”
I spy the staircase to my right, the sanctuary and silence my bedroom promises just a few dozen steps upwards. If I’m lucky, I might find the bathtub full for a second day in a row. There could even be burritos and my husband.
It’s not too crass to think both waiting to fill me, is it?
But even I know it is, and Archer’s truck wasn’t outside anyway, so I release a long exhale and set my bag on the floor, watching—and not caring—as it topples to the side.
I could stop and pick it up. I could straighten it out and buy myself another moment of solitude.
But I wander along the hall instead, dragging my feet and mentally planning my evening.
Dinner. Television. Infusion. Sleep.
Am I still in trouble for the knee thing?
Probably.
The man knows how to hold a grudge.
“Aww, you’re home, Chief.” Felix walks the length of the kitchen with Zora bundled in his arms, his shoulders high, and his hand rhythmically tap-tap-tapping her butt.
His eyes, gleaming and permanently playful, pause on mine.
“You must’ve rushed out this morning, huh?
I didn’t see you, and I didn’t get up that late. ”
I turn left and move toward the fridge, sluggishly tugging the door open and revealing an interior bursting with color and produce. Leafy greens. Bright red and orange peppers. Thick tomatoes, and… other stuff. Healthy stuff. Weird stuff. “I had work to do. Lots of it.”
“Cordoza called a little bit ago.”
I snag a Pepsi hidden in the back, then I push things aside and snatch my box of Factor from the middle shelf in the middle of the fridge.
I didn’t put it there, and yet…
I peel the box open and grab out a glass bottle of diluent—knowing it needs to be room temperature before I infuse anyway—then tossing the box back, I slip the bottle into my pocket, slam the door, and crack my soda open.
The sound startles Zora, her tiny body jumping in Felix’s arms.
“Sorry.” I walk to the counter and fold, resting my elbows on the stone top and cupping the can between my palms. “What did Cordoza want?”
“Said he received the autopsy report and read it over.”
I drop my head, allowing it to dangle listlessly between my shoulders. “And?”
“And he accepts your findings, so he’s packing his men up and going home. He thanks us for our hospitality, hopes the last few days haven’t fractured the relationship between his family and ours, and looks forward to my return to New York. Wants to do dinner next week.”
“Good.” For the first time in days, my pulse relaxes, and the headache pounding at the back of my skull recedes. A little, anyway. Keeping Cordoza satisfied was always going to be tricky. I knew that. And pointing him away from my family was, at all times, my number one priority.
My only priority—after slitting Agosti’s wrists.
“I prefer Copeland City when there are fewer mafiosos in it. Life is less stressful when you’re in New York.”
Felix chuckles, his sway and steps audible against the tile. “See, a year ago, I might’ve taken offense at that, Doctor Cutie Pie. Because you’re smart enough to know you lobbed me in with that crowd, and it almost sounds like you don’t want me in Copeland, either.”
“Mmhm.”
“But I know better. You love me, Doc. You’re annoyed by me,” he clarifies, chuckling. “But I know your heart is so fuckin’ pure, it’s easy to let the barbs go. What’s up with Cato’s ink?”
Tired, confused, I drag my eyes up and stop on the guy who acts like he’s still in ninth grade, scamming on the cheerleaders. But he’s dressed like a Fortune 50 tech billionaire. “What?”
“His ink.” He tilts his head toward the back door. “Kid went from virgin skin to a whole-body piece, and no one thought to say anything?”
I shrug. “He’s grown, and he’s following in his very-tatted brothers’ footsteps. Did you expect anything different?”
“Kinda expected him to ask me to take him for his first, that’s all.” He peeks down at his daughter, long dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks. “Didn’t hurt my feelings or anything. But the design looks kinda fuckin’ sad, don’t you think?”
“I thought you weren’t cussing in front of the baby?” I sip my Pepsi and enjoy the cold slide of liquid down my throat. “How mad will you be if her first word is a swear?”
He taps her nose, his breath escaping on an almost silent chuckle.
“She’ll be okay. She’s got a bastard for a father, but that bastard chose the classiest, most beautiful, smartest woman to be her momma.
No matter how badly I screw this up, Christabelle will right our ship and make things good again. I’m not worried.”
“Do a backflip, Cato!” Tiny feet race across the concrete outside, Mia’s tap-dancing steps echoing in the puddles. “Do a double backflip!”
“Fletch is doing a pretty good job, and he’s a single dad with a junkie ex-wife.
” Felix searches my eyes, his lips quirking up on one side.
“She’s turning out pretty amazing, so I’m going into this with optimism.
” He flashes a bright, taunting smile. “Anything is better than the shit we got from our father.”
“That’s the spirit.” I move off the counter and cross the kitchen. “Keep the bar low, so when you exceed it, everyone’s a winner.”
“I know you’re mocking me, Chief. But I also know you’ve had a big week. You’re tired, and no one ever taught you to be nice when you’re going through it.”
“Mmhm. Shush now.” I stride through the back door, fully intending to sit at the long glass table and take a moment to watch Mia and Cato screw around in the pool.
But I skid to a stop instead, caught in Aubree’s bright blue stare.
A manila folder open on the glass in front of her.
The stacks of paper I’ve already seen before.
“Uh… Aubs.” I gulp and drag my gaze to her left, to Tim.
Then I go left a little more and absorb Archer’s hard stare.
His gritted jaw and the wild flare of his nostrils.
“What’s…” Shit. Fuck. Dammit. I stay exactly where I am, an easy twenty feet separating me from the woman who knows things. “What’s going on out here?”
Archer pushes his chair back, the scrape and vibration on the concrete traveling across and stopping in my esophagus.
“The newlyweds dropped by.” Archer sets his hands in his pockets and meanders around the end of the table.
“I’m surprised you went this long without seeing each other, Minnnka.
This is the friendship no one saw coming, right?
The girl squad of matching anklets, opposite coffee orders, and, more often than I’d like, both of you in my bed first thing in the morning.
Which means I can’t be in that bed. It wouldn’t be appropriate.
” He sets his hand on Aubree’s shoulder, gently squeezing, then he releases her again and flips the file closed, tucking pages inside and picking the lot up.
Then he continues my way. “I’m glad you’re home, babe. I wanna talk to you about this case I’m working on.”
“Where’s Steve?” I stumble back and trample Felix’s toes, startling and zooming to the right before I become the meat in a Malone sandwich. “Where’s Mary?”
“He’s at the hospital. Mary’s with him.”
My heart stutters in my chest, my list of priorities shifting in an instant. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Just a follow-up appointment with the surgeon.” He double-fists the folder and glances down at the nondescript exterior. “Feel like I might’ve cracked my case today. Wanna hear about it?”
“Where’s Christabelle?” I look Felix’s way, desperate for a distraction. He could yeet that baby into my arms right now, and this might be the one time I’d welcome it. “And Tiia? And Micah? And—”
“They’re out,” Archer rumbles. “Figured this was a good time to get the feds off our property. Ya know, in case anyone wanted to admit to a crime and we needed a minute to straighten our story.”
“Archer—”
“I couldn’t remove Mia, though. Fletch is on his way, and she wasn’t ready to get out of the pool.
So, you and me?” He slows just three feet away and points between us.
From him to me. Even as his aftershave continues forward and fills my lungs.
“We’re gonna wander the pretty gardens, Minnnka. And we’re gonna talk in code.”
“Code?”
“Code,” he snarls. “So when I ask if you pumpkin’d Anthony Agosti, you know I’m actually asking if you slit that pumpkin’s pumpkin and set him up to look like he pumpkin’d himself.”
Felix releases a soft, vibrating chuckle. “Pumpkin’d. I like it. Especially since we typically carve those.”
“When I ask if you and your ballerina bestie 2.0 did something during your secret excursion on Saturday night, you’re going to tell me the truth. But you’ll say words like yes, Archer, Soph and I snuck out to dance. And I didn’t tell you, because I know dancing and carving pumpkins is illegal.”