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“I’m heading to the bar for a drink.” Fletch strides across the boardroom, jacket folded across his arm and his eyes alight as I slowly bring mine up. I lower the report I’ve been reading and tilt my head to the side, searching for context. Sense.
“What?”
He grins. “It’s five o’clock, Malone. We’ve been up since four. I’m heading to the bar and ordering a burger, two drinks, and one particularly delicious female. Then I’m heading home to my baby for the night. We can pick this up again tomorrow with fresh eyes and minds.”
“A drink would be kinda nice.” Detective Taylor glances across the table, his lips curling subtly as he looks from me to Fletch. The rest of our squad is around. Reading. Taking notes. Our wall overflows with Post-Its, grainy pictures, and doctors’ reports. “You guys heading over to Tim’s? He does a good burger over there.”
“You’ve been?” Bored, I set my files down and draw a long, chest-filling breath until my lungs expand. Then, releasing it again, I accept that we’re done for today.
Sorta.
“That’s my brother’s place.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sets his things down too and slowly, hesitantly, since we’re yet to offer a formal invitation, stands and circles his chair. “Timothy Malone. He’s your oldest brother, right?”
“Uh-huh.”Like we don’t all know. I push up to stand and catch Officer Clay’s watchful eye. Circling my chair and pushing it back under the table, I snag my coat and check my weapons. A habit. Muscle memory I long ago stopped consciously paying attention to. “I guess I could go for a burger too.” I clap Fletch’s shoulder and move him out of the way so I can quickly stack files and place them in a box for later. “Officer Clay. You’re the last body out, okay? Lock the door, secure the room.”
He nods, short, sharp, affirmative. “Yes, Detective. I’ll put in another hour or two, then I’m going home.”
“You heading to Tim’s too?” Fletch holds Taylor’s stare, friendly, but not outwardly obvious about it. “Happy coincidence.”
“It’s a good place, and it’s always warm when the weather turns crap. If you guys don’t mind company…”
“I don’t mind.” I fake a long yawn, noisy and obnoxious as I shrug into my coat, then I turn toward the boardroom door and head through. “I’m not up for a late night,” I tell them both as Fletch follows and Taylor chases up the rear. “I need to clean my apartment before the wife gets home. She’s gonna tear me the fuck up when she finds out what happened.”
“No one got hurt though, right?” Eager, Taylor trots to keep up on my right. His shoulder brushes mine while Fletch remains a step or two back. “She’ll probably be shocked at first, but the fact that you’re okay is all that’ll matter at the end.”
“I guess.” I step onto the escalator and ride it all the way to the bottom. I don’t take out my phone, though I would feel better having it in my hand. I ignore the buzzing texts, though I wish I could read them.
I’m walking with a cop killer, I have no vest on, and even if I did, he’s proven them useless, and I’m leading the prick toward my brother’s bar.
That’s two Malones in the line of fire. Yet, there’s nowhere else in the city that would feel natural for us to go after a long day at work.
“How are you doing, anyway?” Fletch quickens his steps and comes up on Taylor’s other side once we exit the building, sandwiching him in, so we’re taking up entirely too much of the sidewalk. “I don’t know how close you and Haightman were, but me and Arch are like brothers, ya know? I know everything about him, he knows everything about me. There are no secrets between us. If you and Haightman were similar…”
“Isaac and I were still kinda new.” He drops his hands into his pockets and walks, hunching his body forward to combat the cold. “I was over in organized crime for a few years. But when Haightman’s ex-partnertransferred out and a position in narcotics opened up, well…” he shrugs. “You’ve read the files already.”
“Do you like it?” I step off the curb at the end of the first block and continue toward the bar. “Narcotics,” I clarify. “Decent team?”
“Really decent. They were good guys, and it’s sad they’re dead. They deserved better. Can I ask you a question, Detective?” He speeds up and pulls ahead fractionally, so he can glance back and hold my stare. His cheeks warm, a war waging between the cold wind and his flowing blood. “Something kinda personal?”
I narrow my eyes… because that’s what a Malone would do when questioned. It’s what I donormally. Then I dip my chin. “About what?”
“Your father.” He licks his lips and drops his gaze, so he no longer stares into my eyes. He can’t handle the heat. Or perhaps he wants to act coy. “Everyone knows, ya know?”
“Knows what, specifically?”
“Who he was. Who you are. I worked O.C. and narcotics, so it’s not like we haven’t been up close and personal with your family’s business.”
“So what’s your fuckin’ question?” I want to ram his head into a light pole purely to hear thetingwhen steel and skull meet. But I force myself to walk. To show him exactly what he’d expect to see when dealing with my family. “I’m not one of them, Taylor. I hold a badge now, not a flame for my family’s former business ventures.”
“Former?” His lips wrinkle at the sides, a small grin etching onto his face. “Come on, Arch. We’re friends here.”
Are we?
“I’m not one to discuss my private life with people not in my circle. I’m sure you understand.”
