Page 37 of Sinful Sorrow

“In a nutshell. He’s insulated, it seems, and good with his hands. I wondered if he isn’t you, then maybe you know who it might be.”

“I don’t know.” I don’t even have to ask him to promise. I don’t have to question him. He speaks the truth. Of that, I’m certain. “But Micah and I will ask around. Copeland belongs to us, Arch. We’re not running business through that city on purpose. That’s for you. So if some other asshole thinks our absence is an invitation for him to slide in, then I’m gonna deal with it.”

“Be discreet. Collect information. Leave the flamethrower at home.”

He snickers, soft and playful. “We’ll see. So, dinner?”

“Can’t. Busy. How are things?”

“Christabelle’s as beautiful as ever, and her mean streak remains sharp and quick. We’re thinking about a December wedding, but we’ll let you know so you can fly over for it. Tiia’s still healing up after her thing. Which means Micah’s distracted and angry all the time.”

“Not distracted or angry,” Micah rumbles. “I’m busy keeping your stupid ass alive.”

“See? Angry and mean. But she’s kinda cute, and watching him fuss over her like she’s a little baby bird is fun. Flirting with the good doctor gives a man a thrill. But flirting with Micah’s girl is a whole other thing that keeps my blood pumping.”

“That’s called a death wish.” I drop my free hand into my pocket and grin. Finally. Because Felix is the only man on this planet insane enough to hit on someone else’s girlfriend… when that someone else just so happens to have been raised and trained as a mafia enforcer. Add in the fact that Christabelle will kick his ass too, and he’s simply an adrenaline junky dressed in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. “She’s healing up alright?”

“Can hardly tell she had a bullet in her belly. She’s in the garden a lot,” but then he laughs, “against Micah’s wishes. And she’s working again now.”

“Working? Like?—”

“For the store,” he inserts, before I have to say that other word. “She’s got her eye on something in Italy right now, so she’s trying to convince Micah she can travel alone.”

I scoff. Unlikely. “He doesn’t wanna travel with her?”

“He does. But he’s also obsessed with me, so…”

“For fuck’s sake.” Micah snatches the phone, so the sound of their fumbling hands becomes static in my ear. Finally, he rights the device and snaps out, “She can go to Italy when this shit with Wilkes dies down. We’ve got enemies over here, Archer, and businesses to manage. Christabelle’s father is deteriorating faster than anyone would like, which means the Cannon Daily is about to be in flux, which is shitty timing, considering Cannon’s gilded princess is talking weddings. Add in that Tiia’s know-it-all brother is warning us against being noisy. There’s a lot going on over here. And none of that includes the shit you just dropped in our laps. If Copeland is going to war soon, then I suppose we should be rested and ready for it. Not gallivanting through Italy in search of really expensive shit while Tiia is still tender from her injuries.”

“You’re kinda overwhelmed right now, huh?”

“I’m not overwhelmed! I’m in control of a shitty situation and trying to keep everyone around me alive. That’s not overwhelmed. It’s good planning.”

Felix snags the phone again, sniggering and bringing the device to his ear. “He prefers it when Tiia’s sitting down twenty-three hours a day and not exerting herself. The fact that she’s working again has him a little on edge. Are we done here?”

“Yeah. Maybe try to find me some answers on the Nathan Booth thing. Don’t kill anyone. And if you do, don’t tell me you did.”

He snorts. “Never do, little brother. Some things are best left unsaid. So, dinner?”

“No.” I drag the phone from my ear and end what I hope is the last call I have to make for the next little while. Then I lower my hands, but draw my eyes up.

“He doesn’t know what’s happening in Copeland,” Minka guesses, “and he’s confirmed it’s not him running gangbangers through the street.”

“And he invited you to dinner,” Aubree adds. “Despite living on the other side of the country.”

I exhale a deep sigh and push off the glass. “It’s not him. He’s gonna look into it. Micah’s stressed out. Felix is still being Felix. And we’re going home.” I stride around the desk and scoop Minka up with my hand under her arm. Then I look for the brown leather bag she carries between home and work every single day. “Your bag?”

“I didn’t bring it today.” She shakes herself free of my grip and turns to push her chair back in, then she pokes Aubree to get her moving, too. “I was distracted with all the Cato, Fletch, and Moo in our apartment for breakfast stuff. But there was nothing I needed in it, anyway. I didn’t take any work home with me.”

“No physical files, that is.” Aubree strides just a step ahead of her boss as the pair makes their way to the rack by the door. “She carries her work, mentally, everywhere she goes.”

“Uh huh.” Minka makes a face and waist for Aubree. “That’s the cross I bear, I suppose. We’ve stalled on the Wallace investigation?”

“Just for a minute.” I follow them across the office and hold the door for them to pass through. Then I let it swing shut at my back and move fast enough to get to the elevator first. “Fletch and I… Or just I, maybe,” I have to admit, “will head over to Copeland U tomorrow. We need an outsider’s perspective on these relationships, because this wasn’t a random attack. Whoever planted that knife was someone Mason and Naomi knew. Someone they possibly considered a friend, or at the very least, someone they’ve associated with on some level.”

When the elevator doors slide open, I place my hand over the sensor out of habit and wait for the pair to step in ahead of me. Minka, in her sleek black, professional attire. And then Aubree, in her puffer jacket that takes up entirely too much space, considering the size of the body beneath all the fabric.

“Naomi possibly—probably—trusted whoever did this to her.”

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