“I underestimated you, Chief Mayet.”
“A mistake few make twice. I’m done with this conversation, Estefan. Frankly, I’m done with this entire subject. I’ll put a rush on tox results, and you’ll evacuate your guards. I cannot effectively run this facility,andmaintain discretion, while these ghouls shadow my halls. Get rid of them and rescind your accusation against Archer for a crime he never committed, and I’ll forget to call Michelle.” I fake a yawn, though it turns into the real thing before I can control it. “I’m tired. I’d like to go home, shower, and ignore everyone except my husband for the next several hours. It would be quite simple for me not to use my phone tonight.”
“I’ll make some changes,” he grits out. “And I’ll send a vehicle for Anthony within the hour.”
“Good. I don’t want to know where you put him. I honestly don’t care.”
“Fine. And I’ll expect those results as soon as possible.”
“It was a pleasure doing business with you.” I set my scissors back on my desk and tap the red icon on my phone to end our call. Then I lift the tweezers and show Two the final suture still pinched at the end. “That’s how you handle a man accustomed to having his way in all things. Firm. Friendly. And above all else, you stand your ground. I’m surprised you volunteered for this post when you have a stomach weaker than a newborn child.”
“We do not volunteer,” he gulps. “We follow orders.”
“Yeah?” I snag a tissue and press it against my knee, since I have that pesky clotting situation going for me. “And you’ve just been witness to Being A Boss Bitch 101. You should try it out sometime. Next time he orders you to do a job you don’t want, stand up for yourself. See what happens.”
His eyes drop to the tissue, locking onto the rich, deep red soaking through the white. “I die, Chief. That’s what happens.”
“Maybe you should become friends with Michelle Mancino first.” I squish a fresh tissue onto my knee and snag a Band-Aid from my drawer. Tearing the wrapper off with my teeth, I spit the trash into my lap, peel the sticky cover away, lift one hand, and slap the other down with a fastone-two.
“I’m going home now.” I switch my computer screen off and beam atthe squeamish mass of disproportionate muscle. “You should lay off the anabolic steroids, by the way. They trash your liver and shrink your testicles. Add in your compromised respiratory system, and I doubt you’ll live long enough to enjoy your lackluster sex life.” I snag my phone and bag before stalking across my office and yanking the door open. And because I’m a nice person, I smile at Cordoza’s remaining three stooges. “Don’t follow me. I wish you all a nice life.” I stop in front of One and pat his chest. “Friends don’t let friends do drugs. Friends, especially don’t let their friends do drugs that mess with their testes. It’s simply not smart.”
MINKA
The elevator stops on the lobby level of the George Stanley, my mind on escape, my knee blissfullynotcatching 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’mnotwalking 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.”
