“Then they’ll walk back down the aisle, and you’ll follow, and everyone will see I’m rocking a hard cock.”
“Sounds like ayouproblem, Detective.” I stare across the top of the crowd and count colors in the stained glass. Bolts in the door. Planks of wood lining the wall. Literally anything except my husband behind me, and my colleagues in front. “You see Steve all the way at the back?” I lock eyes with the old man, his nasal cannula sitting askew, and with long, unkempt brows that have always reminded me of an aging English sheepdog. He’s sleepy already, drooping in his chair. But he musters his strength for my sake and curls his lips into a smile. “Think of him. Your dick will turn soft again.”
Archer chuckles, his grip growing tighter on my hip. “You’re trying to gross me out, but your ass is still on my cock and your perfume is in my nose. You could play a video of Steve and Mary fucking, and I’d still be good to go.”
Wrinkling my nose, I lean forward and twist around. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“It’s the Malone in me.” He shrugs. “Wanna fuck?”
“I can hear every single word you two are saying, you know that?” Felix’s eyes remain locked on Christabelle’s while she sits in the front row, but his lips quirk into a taunting smirk. “I heard the bit about fucking on the pulpit, and screaming in confession.”
Frustrated, I burn Archer with one of those ‘look what you did!’ glares.
“And I heard the bit about the old man in the back.” He brings his hand up, brushing it over his lips, like he thinks that’ll save him while Aubree and Tim work through the ‘do you take this woman’ spiel. “Nice try, Mayet. But being a Malone means he could be sitting on the end of my bed and I’d still be able to fuck my wife on command.”
“I didn’t ask for you to weigh in on our private conversation.” I jerk my elbow back and jam the sharp end into Felix’s stomach.
Shut the hell up.
While the Emeris remain blissfully focused on Aubree and Tim, Felix’s dozen security guards, all dressed in black, bristle with unease and twitching fingers. Estefan Cordoza, the boss of all bosses, the freakin’ Godfather Marlon Brando style, stands in the very back row wearing a crisp white scarf in place of a tie or bow, an expensive black suit, and thinning hair combed to the side. He watches us with an amused glint in his dancing eyes, his gaze flickering between the vows Aubree and Tim speak, and the grunt of pain Felix releases.
“I could have you killed for that, Mayet.” Felix rubs his stomach. “You see those guns by the doors? The men whose literal only purpose is to keep me safe. More importantly—” He nudges his chin in Christabelle’s direction. “You see my wife? She’s a viper. A savage draped in expensive diamonds and silky hair.”
“I guess I was born without thefear the mafiagene you expect everyone to have.” I set my hand on Archer’s and nestle back against his chest, only to cough out in surprise when I find his dick isstillhard. “Unbelievable.”
“Thirsty,” he breathes. “My brother could sit on the end of our bed, beside Steve, and I’d still want you.”
“Can I watch?” Cato folds closer. “I won’t touch, I swear.”
“There’s something wrong with you all, I swear to God.” I toss Archer’s hand off and do that thing I swore I wouldn’t do. I draw more eyes. Picking up the long fabric of my dress so I don’t stumble on it, I make a whole friggin’ production of striding away from the Malone men, passing Aubree and Tim on my way. “I’m sorry.” I wave the priest away. “I won’t talk anymore, I promise.” I stop on Aubree’s other side, release my dress, and straighten my back. Then I exhale a deep breath and pretend the hundred sets of watchful eyes aren’t like ants crawling on my face. Guests look me up and down. Some are mildly curious, some are entertained—Sophia, Ellie, Raquel—while others stare with a kind of hungry curiosity potent enough to make my stomach jump.
Archer backs up, pushing Cato to the front to hide his tenting pants, and I… I scratch my arm and wish I could go back to the weird Malone codependence and unhealthy sexual advances. Because standing with them is still better than standing here on my own.
You may now kiss your bride.
ARCHER
Alive band plays on the stage inside Aubree and Tim’s reception, a guitarist thrumming something sweet and soft, while a singer caresses his microphone and fills the opulent room with a pleasing harmony that encourages guests to dance and sway.
Aubree’s mom and dad happily hold each other, making out in the middle of the dance floor like they’re twenty-five again and not the parents of the bride. They giggle and chatter, and old man Emeri whispers things in his wife’s ear that I know for damn sure aren’t entirely appropriate. But not a single Emeri child watches on in disgust. None of them twist their nose or seem put out by their parents’ blatant affections.
Geez, I suppose it’s possible they grew up in a home where love was normalized, just like murder and depravity were for us.
Good for them.
I walk through the massive reception room and search the shadows, the pockets of darkness, the corners. Because Minka Mayet is here somewhere, and she’s not a fan of social shindigs, which leads me to assume she’s hiding. Biding her time and waiting for her chance to escape.
“Arch.” Fletch falls into step beside me, matching my stride. “Something wrong?”
“Nah. Just looking for my penguin.” I dig my hands into my pockets and snag my phone in my left. Pulling it out, I check the screen in case she’s already called a car and hightailed it out of here—not out of therealm of possibility. But my inbox remains clear, and my call log is empty. Ofhername, anyway. “You having a good time?” I stop and cast my eyes back the way I already came. “Where’s Mia?”
He tilts his head toward the dance floor and, to hide his pleased grin, brings his beer to his lips. “Sera asked her if she wanted to dance. Didn’t ask me, though.”
“Shucks.” I snort. “I’m so surprised.” I catch sight of Minka on the very opposite side of the room, her hand wrapped in Steve’s while she folds over his wheelchair and lectures him on… something. Probably rest, medication, how intolerant she is of his surgeon, and how he’ll be staying at the house with us for the next little while.
Now that I know where she is, I stop and exhale, relaxing my shoulders and breathing fresh, unpanicked air. “They’re kinda cute together, right?” I look at the woman who glows, literally, as she hugs Mia to her chest and sways in the dark. “It sucked when she was staying away. She was hurting. Mia was hurting. And you?—”
“Felt like I might die.” He moves toward a passing server and trades his empty beer for two more. Coming back, he hands one to me. “Cheers, big ears. Aubree’s happy. Minka’s agreed to move to the house. Steve didn’t die. And my daughter is with the one woman on the planet who matches her energy on the dance floor.”
