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“Which is why he’s probing to see if you’re just like him.” He nods in thanks when my brother sets three beers onto the bar. I’m thirsty enough I could chug the whole glass andahhhhin thanks. But I’m notactuallyoff the clock, and we’retechnicallyrunning an op. Drinking on the job is frowned upon. Fletch drops onto a stool as I take out my phone, facing the door to keep watch for when Taylor joins us. So while he has my back, I hit dial and wait a single beat for Clay to answer.
“Yes, Detective. We’ve still got you.”
“Audio working?” I peek down at my shirt and the wire hidden behind the fabric. “You copy loud and clear?”
“Yeah, though it’s harder inside the bar. Way more static.”
“You have eyes on Taylor?”
“Yes, Sir. He’s still on the phone outside. We don’t have the tech to ascertain who his caller is. But we know where he is, and we know he’s alone.”
“Do we have eyes on anyone else? He’s probably got someone following him, right?”
“No, Sir.” The kid speaks in a monotone. God forbid he’s accused of being anything but the perfect police officer. “If someone else is tailing Detective Taylor, then we haven’t caught them on our radar yet.”
“He’s taking a while,” Fletch rumbles. “Cold feet?”
“Is he getting cold feet?” I ask Clay. “Moving away?”
“No, Sir. He’s still out the front. He appears agitated, but he’s not moving.”
“He’s on the phone with his handler,” I rumble. When Tim slides a glass of soda across the bar, I grab that and take a long sip to wet my throat. “I’ll call you back in a few, Officer Clay. If he moves, you let us know.”
“You got it, Sir.”
Pulling the phone from my ear, I kill our call and move to my text chat instead.
Rock.
Rock.
Rock.
I’m coming home. See you soon.
Rock.
Rock.
I’m at JFK. Felix insisted on driving with me.
Rock.
Rock.
Wheels up. Love you. Your brother is annoying. Your other brother knows too much. He probably needs to die now.
Rock.
Why is our apartment on the news?
Archer?!
Rock.
Shaking my head, I tap the text bar and quickly type out my response.I’m working. Stay away from the bar until I say otherwise. Stay away from our apartment. In fact, stay on the plane with the doors closed until I come get you. It’s safer that way. Love you, Penguin.
“Ya know, a year ago, I would have never seen you text a broad while on the clock.” Grinning, Fletch’s gaze sweeps across the occupants of the bar. “Never. It’s kind of embarrassing at this point, bro.”
