He scoffs, almost completely silent as he strides forward and leads us through the door wewantto go through. “She’s not the dancing on tables type. But she’s asit with her best friend while her best friend is going through some shittype. She’s thebarely fucking sleeping and ready to go back to work early, because she feels like her best friend is flirting with the very end of her rope and needs supervisiontype.” He heads up the stairs in front of us, but he glares over his shoulder at me. “She told me why you’re doing this, Arch.”
“Of course she did. A man doesn’t have the luxury of privacy with chicks like her around.”
“Cordoza’s fleecing you.” He turns at the landing and pauses for a beat, forcing me and Fletch to stop, too. “He’s in control over there, butclaimingthis is necessary to bring everything back into line.”
“He’s protecting her.” I start walking again, driving him forward.Even when she’s unconscious, I need to see my fucking wife. “It’s messy and infuriating, and sending her away was the hardest shit I’ve ever had to do in my whole life. But he’s not wrong—she’s family, she’s a Malone. That means the Malones screwed up.”
“Aubree’s calling bullshit.” He fires hard emerald eyes my way as we come around another landing. “She doesn’t know what he’s doing, or why, or where he’s leading this circus. But she’s calling shenanigans.”
“A sentiment I would normally respect, but Aubree considersThe Godfatherstudy materials for understanding the world her husband came from. Excuse me for not gambling my wife’s life on Al Pacino’s method acting.”
“I mean…” Fletch clears his throat, chuckling. “Let’s not dismiss that movie, though. It’s a cult classic for a reason.”
I shake my head and swallow the tired groan desperately clawing its way along my throat. “Until I have new information and a better plan, I’m gonna take Cordoza at his word. He says she’s at risk? Means she’s at risk, and before anyone touches her, I’ll step in their way. In the meantime, I’m cleaning this shit up so she doesn’t have to.”
“And since you’re playing three different games of chess all at once,” Fletch grumbles, “you’re coming to work on an hour of sleep, draped in a shitty attitude, and are completely incapable of regulating your emotions.” He looks to Tim. “He was gonna murder Detective Banks, ya know that?”
Tim’s eyes swing back to mine. “Don’t whack a cop. It’s a bad look.”
“Detective Banks is a pain in my ass, and if we should be worried aboutanyonesquealing, it’s him. He wants me out, and he wants to be real fucking loud about it.”
“I sometimes fantasize about rolling up a newspaper and smacking you on the nose when you get like this.” Fletch flashes a beaming smile. “You ever notice when I’m staring into space while you’re bitching about Banks? That’s when I’m thinking about the newspaper. Whack!” He slaps the brick wall. “Whack! Whack!”
“Do it. Then I’ll dip it in hot sauce and shove it straight up your asshole.”
An apartment door whooshes open, startling all three of us to a skidding stop. Then Mrs. Mayweather pokes her head through the gap, a dozen pink rollers in her hair, and a loose-fitting floral nightie drowning her wrinkly body.
“Two police officers and a…” She looks Tim up and down. “Publican.”
Tim drops his chin, smirking behind his beard. “Ma’am.”
“I expect better from all of you.” She brings her hand forward and reveals a rolled newspaper clenched in her palm.From Fletch’s fantasies to our realities. “It is late! My shows are on. And I know for a fact there’s a child trying to sleep in 4B right now. She doesnotneed to hear your potty mouths. If Mr. Morris were here, he would have all of your heads!”
“We’re sorry, ma’am.” Fletch, our forever flirt, surges forward and takes her hand in his. He relieves her of her weapon, yeeting it back into her apartment with a smooth flick of his wrist, then he strokes her arm with the pad of his thumb. “That little girl in 4B is actually my daughter. And you’re right. She deserves so much more than our potty mouths and bad manners. We’re working on it, I promise. The conversations we have in the stairwell act as a release valve of sorts, so by thetime we’re in the presence of my sweet baby girl, we’re better, more respectable men.”
“Well… she…”Fight against it, Mrs. Mayweather! Stay strong. His smolder is only as powerful as you allow it to be.“I suppose, if you?—”
“You see, Detective Malone and I,” he gestures my way, “we put our minds and bodies on the line every single day. We run toward danger when everyone else runs away. The department shrink suggested the release valve strategy.”
“Oh…” Her cheeks glow bright red. “I suppose if the professionals suggested?—”
“But we arealwaysopen to feedback.” Fletch, the fuckin’ creep, brings the old woman’s wrinkled hand up to his lips. “We swore to serve the citizens of Copeland City. That means I heard your thoughts, and I vow to do better.” He kisses her knuckles. “Thank you for keeping us accountable.”
“Come on, Romeo.” I grab his shoulder and nod to the blustering, overwhelmed old lady. Turning him toward the last flight of stairs, I clap his back with a little extraoomphin the action, and shake my head the moment she reverses and closes her door. “There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
He barks out a laugh and throws my hand off his shoulder. “Don’t touch me. Flirting with her reminded me that I never get to spend time with women anymore.”
“You’re sick,” Tim chuckles. “And she’sold.”
“I’m horny, and it really fucking grinds my gears not to have a lady friend to call in times of need.”
“I swear to God, Charlie Fletcher.” Footsteps echo on the floor above us, then Fifi stops on the top stair, her bodywrapped in sinfully tight yoga pants and a tank top that hugs her curves. She glares, angry and intolerant. “Redemption has been chasing you, Detective, but you’re always just a little too fast.”
“Sera?” He gulps, noisy and desperate. “W-what did…” His cheeks turn impossibly pale. “How much of…” He draws a deep, shuddering breath. “Fuck. Guess that set me back another year or two?”
Laughter bubbles along my throat, but I clap his shoulder again, purely to piss him off, then I keep on walking, ducking around the incensed Seraphina Lewis and carefully—quietly—through our apartment door.
Tim follows just two steps behind me.
