Page 50 of Sinful Sorrow

Mia calls from the other side of the apartment. Questioning, but not panicked. Still, Fletch straightens his back and wipes beneath his nose. He swipes his eyes with the heels of his hands, then he sniffles. One last time. “I gotta figure out what to tell her.”

“Tell her there must’ve been a party here last night, but the apartment will be clean again by the time she gets home from school. And then you tell her Mommy is going back to the place she went last time, so she can feel better.”

“That’s a lie.” He pushes off the bed and fixes his shirt so the wrinkled fabric lies flat against his stomach. “You want me to lie to my baby?”

“Lies are acceptable when the truth is damaging. Always.” Standing, I clap his back and squeeze his shoulder, then I move to the door and clear my throat. “You can come down here, Moo. Daddy was tying his shoes because it’s almost time to head out to school and stuff.”

They were waiting. Because the moment I finish speaking, Cato steps into the hall with Moo perched on his hip. They’re both wary, though for different reasons. I think Moo is simply confused, while Cato is ready, as he’s always been, for war.

When you’re a kid, raised on the battlegrounds of mafia conflict, you’re always ready to strap up and deal with any nonsense brought to your front door.

And Jada… she brought this shit past the door and into his family’s living room.

“Hey there, Cutie.” I extend my arms and catch the girl when she leaps from Cato and over to me. But I give her what she wants, turning to her dad and passing her off so she can nestle against his chest. “How are you liking school, Moo?” I set one hand on my hip and use the other to brush hair off her face. “Do you love it there?”

“Ms. Harmon is really nice.” She snuggles under Fletch’s chin, so long, messy hair tickles his jaw. “I’m learning how to read.”

“Really? Reading is pretty important, huh?” I wink and earn a small, scared smile. “Maybe next time we go to Uncle Tim’s bar, you can read the menu to me, so I can decide what to eat.”

Finally, she giggles. “We don’t need the menu. We want hotdogs on a stick, silly.”

“Yeah, silly.” Cato stops in the doorway and discreetly glances around. “Hotdogs on sticks are far superior to all that other slop Uncle Tim serves up. Maybe that’s why Aubree won’t be Uncle Tim’s girlfriend, huh? Because his menu sucks.”

“Maybe we don’t introduce new, confusing relationship dynamics in front of a child already processing a lot of stuff.” I turn to my brother and push him back, so I can move into the hallway and leave the Fletchers to a moment of privacy. Then I take out my phone and dial Felix. Since, evidently, he’s my contact for all sorts of shit.

Ironic, really. But it is what it is.

“Two days in a row.” He answers with a laugh, the sound of New York traffic playing in the background, so I know he’s sitting in a car somewhere near Manhattan. “Smells like a family reunion to me. Doctor Mayet ready to move to New York yet? She used to live here, right? I imagine it would hardly be an issue that she relocate back.”

“We’re not moving to New York. But I kinda need a favor.”

He turns serious in a single heartbeat. Swings his head the other way to meet Micah’s eyes. I don’t even have to be in their car to know how my brothers respond to a threat. “Is everyone okay? What happened?”

“Everyone is safe. But I need a clean-up crew to come in. Like, right now.”

“Cleaners? Who the fuck did you kill?”

“Not those kinda of cleaners.” I move into the living room, planning to perch on the edge of the couch and take a load off for a second. But then I remember that it’s been flipped. So I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear, and crouch to get my hands under the heavy structure. “I need regular house cleaners. But a whole team. I need them here now, and they have to be finished by three.”

“Your house was raided?”

“Close. Fletch’s house was tossed, and as his best friend, I’m getting things straightened out for him. But I don’t have contacts for that sort of stuff.”

“Why the fuck don’t you have contacts? You’re telling me you actually clean your own place? We have people for that sort of thing, Archer.”

“I’ve hired them in the past.” I lift the couch and hold on tight so it doesn’t slam back into place and damage Fletch’s floors. “Before, when it was just me and I spent more time at the station than I did at home. But now I live with Minka, and she’s not gonna tolerate some random chick walking through and touching her things.”

“So you scrub the toilet for her,” he taunts. “You fuckin’ simp. Why not call the people you used to hire?”

“Because I lost their number. Fuck, Felix! Can you make a call or not?”

He chuckles and turns his face from the phone for just a beat, mumbling instructions to someone else. Not Micah. One of his guards, I imagine. Then he brings his focus back to me. “It’s taken care of. Fletch okay? I know he’s a cop, and cops fuckin’ stink and all that. But he’s my brother’s best friend, and the father of that little cutie pie I’m kinda claiming as Malone royalty. So I suppose it matters to me that he’s fine.”

“He’s safe.” But I turn toward the hall when I hear shuffling feet. “I’ll deal with the rest.”

“Someone hurt him?”

“Not physically. Remember that stuff we talked about last night?”

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