“You need only look in the mirror,” Curtis counters firmly. “To find those things. We’re in the presence of a Copeland City detective, no?”
You’re in the presence of a killer. A liar. A thief. A man who manipulates his wife, even now. One who wants her to live somewhere, be someone, do something other than what she wants, so I put things into place to make that change happen.
Just because I act in—what I deem—her best interests, doesn’t absolve me from my crimes.
I’m not so far removed from the men who came before me. I simply have fewer casualties on the side.
“We’ve upset you.” Eli’s electric gaze dims under pinched brows. “I apologize.”
“No need to.” I carefully drag my hand free a second time and transfer my beer across to avoid a third attempt. “It was good to see you both today. I’d really love to dance with my wife, though, so if you don’t mind…”
“Of course not.” Eli backs up, almost stepping on Curtis’s toes as he makes room. “And the baby thing?”
I make a show of zipping my lips. “Not a peep. Though I haven’t mastered the blocking thing, so if she reads me the way she usually does…”
“You’ll do your best,” Curtis cuts in, letting me off the hook easily. “Things will work out however they’re meant to.”
“I merely wanted to welcome you to the family,” Eli concludes, not nearly as exuberant as he was before holding my hand. “Someone from your family married someone from mine. It’s an honor to consider you my brother.”
“Likewise.” I pat his arm and swallow words like, ‘but did you get the shit beat out of you once a week for your entire childhood?’ And, ‘my brothers survived hell and came out the other side on a first-name basis with the devil himself. Unless you can say the same, I’m not sure we’re on equal footing.’ But none of that is for him. Eli is a decent dude—he’s kind and smart, he adores his baby sister, and evenknowingwho she married, he chooses acceptance over judgment, and he keeps the worst details away from their parents.
Offering him one last smile, I drop my hand and cut through the crowd, side-stepping Justin Lawrence as he dances with his youngest daughter—and her daughter, too—and though his eyes wing up and attempt to latch on to mine, I keep my focus firmly locked onto Minka. On her delicious curves and silky hair. Her adoring gaze as she talks to a man damn near asleep already.
Being in this room, withthesepeople, without her plastered against my side… It’s fucking exhausting. My well is dry. My tank, depleted. My soul is tired. So I go to the only human on this planet capable of topping me up again.
“I’ll have you driven to the house and set up in a room on the ground floor,” Minka presses. “There’s a bedroom right there by the kitchen, and I already sent a couple of the guys ahead, instructing them to make the space comfortable and functional?—”
“You need to stop.” Steve’s voice is shaky and fatigued. Gritty, like he’s been shouting all day long. “Mary is doing a fine job, Miss Minka. You don’t have to worry so much.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t?—”
“Mayet?” I rest my hand on the back of her neck, squeezing my fingers just tight enough to control the way she startles and jumps at my appearance, just like I knew she would. I stop only when my chest and her back touch, and breathe again when she straightens out and leans into me. Fuck, she’s like oxygen to a man who has none. “I’d hate to make assumptions, but it kinda looks like you’re harassing a sick man.”
“Harassing or doctoring?” She slips under my arm without me dragging her in. Because I’m oxygen for her, too. I’m her peace in a chaoticworld. Her quiet amidst the noise. “He was discharged by an inept surgeon with no care for the fact his chest was open in an OR just two days ago.”
“Five days, actually.” Steve slumps in his chair, but turns starry-eyed as Mary approaches with a glass of water. “And I don’t think the surgeon was crappy, either. Seeing as she saved my life and all that.”
“She tossed you on your ass to empty a bed. You’re nothing more than a number to her, Steven. You should sue.”
“Sue for what?” He snickers. “Not letting me die?”
Minka tenses against my side, her jaw gritting with the rage she’s been carrying since Doctor Fielder announced a discharge date. But before she can open her mouth and spew her hatred for a woman not even here tonight, I press my palm to the side of her face and force her to look at me.
“We have a plan in place.” To douse her anger, I lay a kiss on her firm lips. “We have suitable accommodation he can stay in while he recuperates, our sweet Mary to help, a medication schedule signed off by his team, and a cardiac nurse on standby twenty-four hours a day. Call me an optimist, but I believe he’ll receive better, specialized, more consistent care at the house than he ever would at the hospital. Plus, his chance of contracting a nasty staph infection has now decreased considerably.”
“Exactly.” Steve rolls his hand, weakly letting it droop when he’s done. “I’m safe and happy. And you’ll be at the house, anyway. Sounds kind of perfect, don’t you think?”
“Speaking of…” Minka swings desperate eyes up to mine. “We’ll have to send someone to the apartment to pack up a few of our things.”
“A few?”
“Yeah, just…” She’s tired—mentally and physically. “Clothes to get us through the next few weeks, at least. My textbooks. Shoes. My laptop. Just the basics.”
“Why the basics? You don’t wantallof your stuff?”
“I mean… I don’t know that we’ll stay there permanently. Do you? I figure we’ll get Steve settled in and feeling better. We’ll stay until he’s up again and his surgeon has signed off. But then Mary will leave for New York. Steve will want to go back to the apartment. Then it’ll just be me and you again. That’s a lot of house for two people.”
“And me.” Cato swaggers closer. “You forget me so easily?”
