Page 1 of Turkey Trouble

MINKA

“Hey? Chief?” Aubree skids on the tiles of the George Stanley, her shoulder slamming into mine because she moves too fast, and I… well, I don’t move at all. A giggle of embarrassment rolls from her chest. But… not. Because she’s Aubree Emeri, and I’m not sure she is evertrulyembarrassed about how she conducts herself.

“Sorry!” She lobs her files against my chest, forcing me to hold them or let them fall to the floor, then she rubs my shoulder, soothing strokes of her palms right over the scarring that still mars my body from a reconstructive surgery earlier this year. She digs her fingers into the muscle, dragging her nails over my old stitch marks.

It should be painful. But somehow, she makes it physical bliss.

A feat, considering I prefer not to be touched at all.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Little bit. Why are you running around? This is a morgue, Doctor Emeri. Not a playground for untrained youth.”

She rolls her bright blue eyes in my peripherals, marking my skin with her nails because of how deeply she pushes in. Andstill… no pain. “When you mention untrained youth, I know you mean Cato. Not me.”

“What do you want?” I pull away and hand her files back. “And why were you running?” But then it hits me. An obvious realization. “New DB?” We’re medical examiners, after all. And today is, statistically and historically, when dead bodies spike and folks fill our fridges downstairs. “Where is it? Are Archer and Fletch running it?”

“No.” She grabs my arm and forces me around, charging toward my office door and releasing me only when we’re on the other side of the glass. “I talked to Fletch just a few minutes ago. He said they’re clocking off in an hour. They’re finishing their paperwork and not accepting new cases between now and dinner.”

“They don’t really get to make that choice. Homicide detectives take orders. They don’t order dead people not to die.”

“You speak in riddles,” she snickers, crossing my office on dancing feet. “If they’re dead people, then they’re already dead.” She plops into my visitor chair, undignified and yet unrevealing, despite her miniskirt and knee-high socks. She wears too little, considering her vocation of choice, but she wraps her body in a sexy white lab coat between the hours ofwhenever the hell we wake uptillwhenever we can crawl into bed at night. Fashion is how the clever doctor expresses herself. Lab coats are how she protects herself. “And since they’re already dead?—”

“Moving on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She flashes a wicked grin, herevilnessrolling all the way up to her eyes. “But the mayor called.”

I drop into my chair and slump back, almost melting to the floor if not for the last scrap of dignity and self-respect I possess. “I havenodesire to speak to that man. I know you told him I was busy.”

“It’s Thanksgiving!” She practically sings her words. “This is the holiday for being with our families.”

“He’s not my family! He’s a thief and a liar, and I met him only after I killed thelastsitting mayor.Myfamily is dead, and my husband is coming home to me in an hour. We’re ordering subs, drinking wine, and having lots and lots of sex. For that,” I smirk. “I am thankful.”

“That’s going to be hella awkward when the mayor turns up for dinner.”

“He’s not coming to dinner! He has his own family. He has a wife and daughters and grandchildren and pets and probably a plant or two. Those are the sorry sonsabitches who have to spend today with him. Not me.”

“Cato wants a family thing.”

“Great! Cato can walk his ass down to the bar and spend the holiday with his big brother. This leaves my apartment empty and, coincidentally, my sex and subs plan lives on.”

“Felix threatened to sleep on your couch.”

For fuck’s sake! “Felix is busy on the East Coast. This is his first Thanksgiving with Debbie. I’m certain he’ll stay over there and probably try out the sex and sub thing, just like us.”

She smirks, taunting, yet sympathetic. “My mom asked for you to join us for Thanksgiving.”

“No.”

“Dinner’s at seven.”

“No!”

“Eli and Curtis will be there,” she giggles. “Their wedding is coming up, and you’ve been invited, so really…” She scrunches her nose. “It would be best if you met the groom.”

“I’ve met the groom! He’s tall and handsome and super gay. We’re pals, Aubree.” Frustrated, I bring my hands up and smother myself to death.I wish. “We don’t need to meet again.”

“You haven’t met theothergroom. And you still need to meet my sisters. Katie is like…” She snorts. “If Eli is super gay for dudes, then Katie issuuuperhoe-tastic for dudes, too. She’s not like me.”

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