“Cordoza’s still in the city.” I groan. “He’s not leaving until he gets the answers he’s looking for. And Minka’s sharing her office with fuck knows who. The only reason I haven’t torn a wall down yet is because, historically, Cordoza has been good to us. And technically, he likes her. It’s me he has a problem with.”
The fact that I don’t want to escalate an already tense situation is why my ass is still fused to this chair.
“Felix still here?” Exhaling, Fletch leans back in his chair and eyes me across both desks. “He was supposed to fly back yesterday, but things have changed, so…”
“He’s still here.” I chew on my lip andspin, spin, spinmy phone. “He’s not leaving till Cordoza does. I should call her, right?” I snatch up my phone and tap the screen. “Just to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Probably should call Tim and Aubree, too.” He steeples his fingers, resting the tips beneath his chin. “But what do I know?”
“Minka doesn’t wanna ruin Aubree’s week off, and calling them will achieve nothing except Tim stressing the fuck out. He’ll toss Aubs over his shoulder and lock her away wherever he deems safe, and that’ll piss her off, which is hardly a good way to start your marriage. He can’t fix this, and he can’t change it. He can’t tell Cordoza to fuck off, and if he tries, he’llreallyfuck up his marriage when he ends up dead. If he dies, Aubree will murder Cordoza. It’s not a good idea to invite either of them in.”
“They’re gonna be pissed when they find out they were excluded.” He tilts to the side and digs his phone out of his pocket. Turning the device my way, he shows me… nothing. “Tell me to text Sera.”
“What?”
“Better yet, give me a reason to text her. Like, you have a question or something. That way I can text her but say it’s for you.”
“I’m not giving you an excuse to text her!”
“Dude. You don’t even care about my love life.”
“You don’thavea love life. You have a five-year-old daughter and a situationship with a woman who can’t stand you. You’re so used to being able to pick a woman up, take her home, sex her up, and send her on her way with a patronizing pat on the rump. Now you’ve caught feelings, but she’s not interested.”
“She’s interested.” His brows pinch tight and shadow his eyes. “She’s just too proud to admit it.”
“Maybe. And she’s in love with your kid. She’s not too proud to admit that.”
He lowers his hand, setting his phone face down against his desk. “You’re being hurtful on purpose, because the Cordoza stuff is stressing you out.”
“Mmhm.” I tap my phone again, re-illuminating the dark screen and finding… nothing. Still. No calls, no texts, not even a rock dropped into my inbox. “I should call her.”
“Banks!” Lieutenant Fabian steps out of his office, glowering. “Clay. In my office. Now.”
I tilt my head back and twist, all so I can glance over my shoulder at Drake’s unimpressed glower. His burning glare. I flash a taunting, teasing smile and chuckle when he slams a file closed. “You’re in trouble already? Shit, Special Agent Dickface, not a good start.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He shoves up from his desk and stalks across the bullpen, shoulder-checking the side of my head as he passes. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”
“I’m just saying! Officer Clay is the most pliable, hardworking, trouble-free kid we could have found for you. If you’re screwing it up, it’s because you suck.”
“Malone!” Fabian barks out. “Fletcher. You, too.”
“Dammit, Archer.” Fletch tosses a pen at my chest and pushes up from his chair, snagging his phone and fixing the holster he wears over his shoulders. “You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut?”
I spring up from my chair and whip my phone into my back pocket.Bending and picking up Fletch’s pen, I toss it back on his desk and start toward Fabian’s office. “If you say I can call Minka, I say you can call Fifi. We could both tell Fabian we have family emergencies and aren’t available for a meeting with Special Agent Failed FBI School.”
“Detective Malone.” Fabian’s eyes burn a hole in the side of my head. “I could do without the commentary. Save your jokes for the comedy club.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” I scratch the side of my neck and squeeze through the doorway, past his rounding belly, only to stop as soon as I’m in. Because that’s all the room he has in this tiny-ass office. I inch to the side and stand by Clay, since the alternative stinks of federal snitch. Then I glance back at the door and wait for Fletch to stuff himself into the last remaining space.
We’re just a bunch of tuna crammed into a can that smells of old food and fresh BO.
“If Detective Banks screwed up his TO duties, Lieutenant, I suppose Fletch and I could relieve him of the kid and do it right.” I set my hands behind my back, resting my knuckles over the bulge where my phone sits.If it rings, I’m out of here. “Three is a crowd, typically. But we could make do for the short term. Find him a better trainer.”
Fabian steps around his desk, sucking his belly in and plastering his back to the wall to get through the small space. He drags out his chair and drops like a ton of bricks. Then he glances up. “Detective Malone?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Shut up.”
