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“You have your methods,” he glares, “I have mine. Yours tend toward diplomatic?—”
“It’s called following the fucking law! It’s not diplomacy, Tim. It’s about not committing a felony.”
“We were born to commit felonies.” He quickens his steps and moves ahead of me. “I’m not a cop, and I have absolutely no reason for diplomacy or kindness. My only purpose is to keep you alive and stand between you and a potential threat. Even if I end up eating bullets, they’ll get there because I’m standing in front of you.”
“It’s not your job to take my bullets!” I come to a stop outside his bar and shove him back until he hits the brick wall. “You are not my fucking shield. You’re not my sacrifice. And you’re not responsible for the things the other Tim did to us.”
“Um…” Minka clears her throat, startling me as I spin and find her at the opened bar door, while Aubree stares over her shoulder with wide eyes. “Is there a problem here, gentlemen? Something you’d like to discuss with us?”
“Yeah,” I snarl. “Tim’s a fucking martyr. He thinks it’s his job to fall in battle to save my life. And why?” I bring my eyes back to his, “because you’re the oldest? Because you’re the namesake? Because you think it validates your existence?”
“Perhaps it’s just called love,” he growls. “Same reason I packed my life up and crossed the country half a lifetime ago. Same reason I watch your back and check in every fucking day to make sure your ass got home. The fact that you sleep next door now, and not a couple of blocks up, makes mylife infinitely better on that front. But having a cop killer on the street?” He shoves me back, forcing me to release his shirt or risk tearing the fabric clear off his chest. “I’m allowed to worry.”
“What you did back there was way more than worry.” I point in the direction we came. “That was a crime, and if I don’t hear about it by morning via an official fucking complaint on my lieutenant’s desk, then I’ll be surprised.”
“What did you do?” Aubree questions him. Then to me, “What did he do?”
“He thought he could play hero and break a bunch of laws on the way.” I point in his face. “Love matters, and I’ve got your back, too. But what you did was wrong. It was dumb, and it’s gonna get me fired long before I can take a killer off the streets.”
“Get fired.” Shrugging, his lips quirk into a small, smug smirk. “I’ll hire you at the bar. Saves us both trouble.”
“I’d say that about ends this conversation.” Minka grabs my hand and pulls me back, wrapping her fingers in mine and absorbing a terrifying amount of rage that, just a second ago, burned in my veins. “Things are kinda heated right now and no one is gonna be rational. Come on.” She gives me another tug when I don’t move, rubbing my arm with her free hand to create friction that warms. “Archer? It’s time to go home. I’m leaving tomorrow, so tonight has to be for us.”
MINKA
“You need to calm the hell down.” I drag him into our apartment building and past a quietly observant Steve—our landlord. He’s more gargoyle than he is man, shielding his property and scaring away negative energy. “Archer!” I refasten my grip on his hand when he tries to pull free. But my heart gives a painful knock anyway, because I’m not sure, in all the time I’ve known him, he’s ever rejected my touch. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“He wants to stand between me and a bullet.” He quickens his steps and switches from pulleeto puller. Now he races ahead of me, swallowing the stairs with his long strides and leading us to the second floor. Then the third. “It is not his fucking job to die in my place.”
“I certainly hopeno onedies.” Panic shreds through my veins and leaves my heart trembling. “Archer? This isn’t one of those situations where a Malone has to be shot. In fact, I’d really like for you both to still be breathing when this is all done and put away.”
“I’m not gonna be hurt!” Is he shouting at me? At the universe? At the brick walls that surround us? “Dammit, Minka. This is my job. I do it every fucking day, and I do it well. But you getting pissy about me staying with my partner, and then my brother threatening some motherfucker in the street all because he can?—”
“Oh, cool. So we’re fighting?” I sprint the last couple of steps and spin to stand over the man who knows power. He knowsintimidation. He’s certainlynotaccustomed to being stood over. But as I toss his hand from mine and snarl in his face, I’m sure we resemble a couple of panting bulls, readying to charge. “You’re mad because I’m worried? That’s what we’re doing here?”
“I’m mad because it seems no one trusts me to do the fucking job! Because apparently I’m incapable of apprehending a killer and keeping myself alive long enough to see trial.”
“Worrying about you is not the same as doubting you!”
“It feels the fucking same! So now, when I’m walking the streets, it feels like I have eyes on my back. My stomach is in knots, not because I think I’m gonna be hurt, but because I don’t want to deal with the, ‘I told you so’s from every single person in my life! Jesus, Mayet. You’re making me question my abilities.”
I’ve been arguing with people for days. Weeks, even. I’m exhausted! And the last person I want to fight with on the eve of my trip ishim. “We’re a team, Archer. You and me. We love each other. We worry about each other. Your incessant need to sneak protein bars into my coat pocket is proof you’re constantly thinking about my wellbeing. That means nothing except that you care about me.”
“You’re going away tomorrow.” A long, pained groan rolls along his throat. “You’re leaving, and I won’t be there to make sure you eat.”
“And you’re mad,” I breathe. “Because you want to be with me. Taking care of me.”
“There are very few things in this world that would keep me from you, and none of them are more important than whatever it is you want. So I need you to tell me it’s okay, Minka.”
My heart aches at the pain burrowed deep in his tone.
“I need you to tell me to stay here. For Fletch. For the case. For what I feel is right. Because if we part ways tomorrow and we’re not in agreement, then I feel like the worst is gonna happenbecausewe’re not together.”
“You’re doubting your instincts.” My anger washes away and in its place is sorrow. Sadness. Skepticism, too, but within myself. I step down off the landing and stop only one stair above his, so we’re eye to eye and his hands automatically drop to my hips. “I’m sorry for questioning you on this.”
“We’re a team,” he repeats my words back to me. “I need us to always be on the same side. I need to know that what we’re doing is the right thing. Because right now, I’m not so sure.”
“Archer—”
