“Chief Mayet.” One of them, the sacrificial spokesperson, broadens his chest. “Mr. Malone’s orders.”
My pulse thrums and skitters in my veins. “Which Mr. Malone?”
“Felix. We have a fleet of cars available to take you wherever you’d like.” His eyes flicker to Burke. “You’re welcome to dismiss this one.”
“I’m satisfied with my current arrangements. But thank you.” I meet Burke’s gaze and wait for his nod, then I brush my hands over the soft fabric of my dress and step aroundMr. Malone’s guards. Through the gates, along a narrow section of tile, then over the threshold. Even with the door wide open, chilled air hits my skin and alleviates the itchiness of sweat and humidity from outside.
Archer said he wasn’t coming to the house, and Cato is at the apartment. Felix and Micah and the rest of the New York cohort have left town, which means only two remain.
“Oh! Doctor Mayet?” Mary skids to a stop in the hallway, her usual smart black dress and gleaming white sneakers, a contradiction almost as bright as the wariness in her eyes. She looks me up and down, her palm pressing to her chest, but as she brings her gaze to mine—no doubt red and puffy—she gulps and lowers her hand. “Is everything okay, Doctor? Is there anything I can?—”
“Is Steve in his room?” I continue forward, nerves slamming through my veins, though I don’t let them show, and passing the sweet and oddly formidable Mary, I head through the kitchen and into the hall.
I don’t call Steve’s name, though I kind of want to. I don’t announce my arrival, though I want that, too.
I would die if I declared I was here and Steve’s only response was an uninterestedmeh, but my fears are quashed the moment I arrive at his door. My tears, swelling and spilling anew.
He sits up in his bed, his ruddy cheeks lifting with his brightsmile, his eyes glittering as he looks me over. A television flickers and drones from across the small room, and a remote sits by his thigh, black against crisp white sheets.
“Hi.” My breaking voice makes me feel foolish. “You look brand new, and it’s only been two days.”
He fists his sheet and drags it up, revealing his thin, pale legs wrapped in cotton shorts. “Climb on in, Sweetpea. Come visit an old man for a little while.”
My breath hitches on a sob, and my heart pounds, aching and wild in my chest. But I stride ahead, unzipping my boots and kicking them off with each step I take. By the time I reach the bed, I climb up and slip my feet under the sheets. I fold myself into his curling arm, so when he pulls me in and forces my cheek to his chest, I squeeze my eyes closed and cry.
And cry.
And so ridiculously, humiliatingly, uncharacteristically cry.
“Let it out.” He presses a kiss to my temple and draws me closer. “Purge the poison. Get it all up, then you’ll feel better.”
“I was coming to see howyou’refeeling. I wanted to show you I haven’t abandoned you.”
“Now you see I’m well.” He hums in the back of his throat, a sweet melody I’ve never heard before. “And that I haven’t abandoned you either.”
ARCHER
“You understand why I had to say something, don’t you, Archer?” Cordoza sits somewhere in New York, comfortable in his position as the grand fucking puppet master, the man who controls everyone’s lives and orders a hit—or not—without breaking a sweat.
I escaped from this world. I left the East Coast and quit my whole fucking family almost two decades ago, all so I could live a life far removed from Estefan Cordoza, Timothy Malone the Second, and the entire New York mafia.
I left. I got married. I tried to maintain that separation, especially once Minka came into my life. But here I am anyway, the truest,cruelestexample of a man unable to evade his past.
“I’ve done a lot of cleanup since this broke,” he murmurs. “I’ve suppressed the whispers and silenced men who thought they could get loud, but despite Chief Mayet’s autopsy findings and her mostly convincing argument that Anthony Agosti’s death had nothing to do with your family…”
I hunch forward in my truck, my elbows on the steering wheel, and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“We know differently,” he continues. “Chief Mayet claimed your innocence on the matter until she was blue in the face. She insisted you were nowhere near Anthony at the time of his death…”
“Mr. Cordoza?—”
“All to assert that no rules had been broken. But she is Malone now, too, Detective.Shebroke the rules.”
My stomach whirls and aches. It fucking rolls and trembles. “She was not representing the family when she acted, Mr. Cordoza. She is a whole, independent, free-thinking woman, and Agosti was trafficking girls. Children,” I growl. “She had no choice but to act.”
He settles back in his chair, the rumble and groan of the frame sounding through our call. “I don’t entirely disagree with her actions, Detective, nor did I hold affections for Anthony. But be that as it may, my job is to maintain peace amongst families in this city, and if word were to spread that a Malone wife killed Agosti, we risk an all-out war.”
“I sent her away.” I push off the steering wheel and drop my head against the rest behind me. “The Malones are,temporarily, not united with Mayet, so I suggest you do whatever it is you must do to ensure peace within your city. You’re on the clock, Mr. Cordoza, because I won’t keep her away forever.” I grit my teeth. Anything to combat the rage bubbling in my gut. “You have a day left, two at the most, to take care of what needs taking care of. Then I’m bringing her home again.”
