Page 137 of Dancing in the Dark

“F-Felix?”

“Or I’m standing on a certain corner at a certain time. Or, remember how we swung by that twenty-four-hour corner store last month? You wouldn’t shut up about it being out of our way, but I said I was desperate for a soda.”

“Felix asked you to be there that day?” he grits out. “He ordered it?”

“Yeah! Paid me a tidy five grand for it, too. That’s how I get me and my baby ahead, Arch. That’s how I buy the picket fence and keep the lights on. And since he’s your brother, I figure if I’m gonna step out for any random mobster, I may as well make it the devil I know. But there I go again, tossing all of my eggs into one basket, so when you grow tired of my shit, I’m homeless, when Cato’s loyalty follows you, there goes my daycare, and when Felix chooses family over everything else, then I’m really up shit creek. Remind me again how I’m a badass making his own way in the world.”

“Fuckin’ Malones.” He chuckles low on his breath, shaking his head and staring down at the floor. “They can’t help themselves.”

“Tell me what Sophia said!” I roar. “Give me a chance to come out of this mess on the other side.”

“She said Markum called a meeting with Lawrence and Bower, and riiiiight when Fifi sat her ass down, he pulled the Malone card and claimed we were flubbing this case because my family wants to maintain control over the bay.”

“He—” And there it is. My house of cards, all come tumbling down. “That’s an IA investigation,” I groan. “That’s a big one.”

“Yep! It’s a really big one. And it’s already started.”

“I should’ve bought the fat diamond ring.” I press my palms to my eyes and fold at the hips. “Paid cash. Hide it in a fuckin’ shoe or something, then use it to buy groceries for my baby once the feds seize my bank accounts. Oh, God.” I drop into a crouch and wheeze. “Felix said it would probably be alright, since he was using shell corporations and shit to pay me.”

Archer’s dismissive scoff bounces from wall to wall. “If Felix were smarter, he would’ve set you up as club security or somethin’ and put it on the books. Pay you a weekly income, push it through payroll, and have you pay tax, kinda like how I have you set up to manage the apartments.”

I lower my hands and glower at his smug expression. “Geez, Arch. I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your business advice before digging this giant fucking hole to bury myself in.”

He snorts. “Maybe next time you will. Also, Soph already cleaned you out.”

I shoot to my feet. “She what?”

“Listened in on the meeting at City Hall, I guess. Called to give me a heads-up. Told me how much cash you’ve made on the side already, but refused to tell me who your benefactor was. She duped your accounts ages ago, moved your dirty money, and set you up so when IA takes a peek, it all looks legit. Oh, and apparently, Fifi went Street Thug Barbie for you after that meeting with Markum.”

“She…” My head hurts. My stomach hurts. My entire fucking soul aches. “What?”

“I didn’t catch all the details,” he shrugs. “But Soph made damn sure to mention that you chose well and you should marry up soon.” He flashes a wide smile and plops his hands onto his hips. “I totally recommend it.”

“You recommend what? Marriage?”

He nods. “You chose wrong last time, which is why it didn’t work out. But marrying Jada was a side quest, kinda like going out of our way to visit a twenty-four-hour convenience store that Felix already owns was a side quest. But it’s not all bad, cos we got Mia, and now you’re free and clear to do better the second time around.” He brushes his hands together. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Come on.” He closes the space between us and yanks me in for a fast, rough hug. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise. IA can search, but they won’t find anything we don’t want them to see. Soph had our back, which is actually kinda cool, considering I can barely tolerate her for more than twenty seconds before I wanna strap her to the side of a blimp and set it on fire.” He flashes a taunting grin and claps my cheek. “I lied about the apartment thing because I didn’t wanna make you feel like shit about it, but you lied about moonlighting for Felix, so that makes us even.” Turning on his heels, he grabs the door handle. “Preston! Let us out now.”

Beep.

“I think you should buy the cute ring, by the way. Fifi wants to make a family with you, dipshit. She’s turning gangster on the steps of City Hall to defend your honor, and I heard she and Mia are already exchanging I love yous. Don’t hide shit from me anymore. And if you ask Felix to be the best man at your wedding, I’m gonna go on a fuckin’ rampage.” He yanks the door wide. “When are you gonna ask her to marry you, anyway? Do it in public so we can all wat— Oh…” His voice comes out in a strangled garble. “Shiiiit.”

My heart stops dead in my chest as I discover a line of women. Long legs, long hair, raised brows, and questioning eyes. Four of ‘em stand in a row, three are wearing crisp white doctor coats, and the fourth… is pale.

“S-Sera?” I swallow the panic-puke burning my throat and meet Aubree’s smirking expression. Doctor Raquel’s delighted grin. Minka's narrowed eyes. Then Sera, different from the others because of her perfect skirt-suit, four-inch heels, and hair I swear is never frizzy. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Not enough,” Aubree giggles. “Have you assigned bridesmaids yet? Because I feel like we didn’t get a fair opportunity to volunteer for the job.”

“Is there a reason two unauthorized police detectives are inside my fridge?” Minka snaps. “You don’t have clearance to be in there without a medical examiner present.”

“We needed the cone of silence.” Leaving me here to rot, Archer wanders forward and plants a noisy, smoochy, juicy kiss on her lips. “It’s a thing now, Chief. But we touched nothing, I promise.”

“You needed the cone of silence…” She leans around him to study me. “To talk about weddings?”

I can’t take my eyes off Sera. Off the violent pink tinge in her cheeks, nor the hand she presses to her mouth like she might be sick if she doesn’t. I can’t not notice the pulse pounding against the side of her neck, nor the jittery shift of her gaze.

“That was all super out of context,” I try to explain. “He was being an idiot, like always. There are no weddings to plan or public proposals on the horizon.”

“Aw, jinkies.” Raquel fans her face. “It’s every girl’s dream to hear her man say those words. Fuck them weddings, amiright? Gross.”