Page 38 of Sinful Deception

But if I were to be particularly specific, my focus is on just one of the Malones. “Hey.” I step into Archer’s arms and rest my cheek on his chest, right where I fit so perfectly. It’s like the universe was crafting people three decades ago, and pulled him and me from the same mold. “I’ve needed this so much.”

“You okay?” Cato lets himself into the apartment, but Archer gently slides his hands along my back in soothing strokes. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing new. I just needed a hug, though I didn’t realize how badly until it was already happening.” I listen to his heartbeat. The solidthud, thud, thudthat allows mine to calm, too. The way we sync and how his aftershave fills my lungs. He’s my rockhopper penguin, and the stark reality of seeing a friend lose his—or at least, the person hethoughtwas his rockhopper penguin—is like a knife in my throat.

Over and over and over again.

“Did you tie up the Masters thing?”

“Yeah.” He leans back and looks down into my eyes. “Let’s go in so I can brief Fletch, too.”

Talk business,he means.Normalcy within a world of chaos.

“Okay.” I push up to my toes and wait for him to close the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine. Home. Where everything feels safe and pain doesn’t hurt quite as much.

He’s my home.

“Come on.” He takes my hand and carefully steps around me to lead the way, so I study his broad shoulders as he moves, then down to the guns he keeps strapped to his body. I’ve never been intimidated by those. Such powerful weapons, so close to the person I love more than I love life itself. But he’s a powerful man, and he knows how to use them to protect himself.

If nothing else, the abusive Timothy Malone the Second taught his boys how to survive the very worst life can toss at them.

“Hey.” He meanders into the apartment and heads toward the kitchen when he spots Fletch that way. He squeezes my hand in his to make damn sure I come along for the ride. “Signed off on the Masters thing.”

“Yeah?” Fletch pulls the fridge door open and takes out a soda. Perhaps a crutch, to keep his hands busy and his eyes somewhere other than on his friend. His brother. Then he shuts the door and moves to lean against the counter, right where I was just a few moments ago. “Fabian approved the paperwork?”

“Yep. Masters is already talking with the D.A. and crying about how he didn’t mean to do what he did. He’s showing remorse andyada yada yada. He’s a dick.” Archer brings me around to stand in front, dragging me closer until my back touches his chest and his chin perches atop my head. “He wanted out of a bad marriage, but he was too scared to do it the right way, for fear of losing a few dollars to the wife and lawyers. Now he’s lost it all and is going away. D.A. seems to think he isn’t a huge threat to society, so they’ll go relatively easy on him, depending on whatever comes of their meetings over the next few days.” He looks across the room—I feel the movement of his head—and discovers Mia asleep on the couch and, when I look, Cato sitting on the coffee table, his eyes on the little girl and his expression far softer than it ever is when he’s speaking to an adult. “How’s Moo doing?”

“Exhausted. She’s crying on and off, but a lot of it is fatigue and dysregulation. Her routine has been tossed on its head, and her sleep is suffering, which leads to a meltdown every now and then.”

“But once things calm down and routine is back, she’ll be fine, right?”

“Yeah.” He lifts his soda and shrugs. “Objectively speaking, Jada wasn’t a part of her everyday life. Makes me feel like an asshole to say it like that, but it’s fact. Mia is crying for theideaof her mother. Not for the actual woman she lost.”

“Objectivity doesn’t make you an asshole,” I murmur. “Ultimately, our job is to help her find peace again. Beingrealistic about our circumstances, even if it’s not entirely socially acceptable, is how we’ll manage that peace in the long run.”

“Right.” He lowers his hand and looks anywhere but at us. “Detective Elen called a few hours ago.”

“Yeah?” Archer’s body buzzes with adrenaline behind me. I feel it just as surely as I would feel electricity in my veins. “What’d he say? Did they nab Booth yet?”

“Nah. They swept that kid, Lorenzo Lombardo up, though. No arrests yet, because Booth is hiding, and Lorenzo’s claiming innocence. He was there earlier that day, Elen says, but Lombardo says he didn’t see Jada’s attack, didn’t condone it, and won’t cover it up. He doesn’t know where Booth is and doesn’t know anything else.”

“So he’s caught the code on the street,” Archer rumbles. “You shut your mouth, or you die.”

“Basically.” Setting the can of soda down, Fletch twists and presses his hands to the edge of the counter, bending his back and stretching his shoulders. “Booth has been an STD on this city for a while now, but he really stepped in it with Jada. First attack was bad, but the cops were either too incompetent to do anything about it, or the evidence wasn’t there. This time, Balladae and Elen have concrete proof and seem to actually care enough to put him away. Booth knows he’s in the shit now, so he’s gone underground.”

“And how do you feel about that?” I know this discussion is between cops, but I insert myself anyway. I always do. “I’m certain you’re angry, Fletch. This isn’t the first time Booth has hurt her. So I wanna know?—”

“If I’m gonna hit the streets and take care of him myself?” He stares at the counter and smiles. “Maybe. Not today. My focus is on Mia right now. She’s the only innocent amongst us all, so I’m gonna be whatever she needs me to be until she feels good enough again to face the real world. But if Booth is still inthe wind in a month… two months…” He shakes his head, but I swear, I hear a soft laugh feather over his lips. “I might do something about it.”

“That’s illegal.” Aubree growls, her eyes narrowing to slits. “What will you do if you find him, huh? Hurt him? Maybe even kill him. And then you go to jail, too. The good news is you might get to share a cell with Masters, but the bad news is Mia will be left out here to raise herself. That’s stupid.”

“There’s an art in not getting caught,” Cato inserts smugly. “The point is to leave no trail, Hippie. It’s to get in, get out, and serve up justice the way justice is meant to be served.”

Of course, her eyes swing to mine.

The Vigilante, a word tickling the end of her tongue. Though she has good sense not to say so out loud.

“Most people get caught. That’s literally your job.” She stares at Archer, then Fletch. “Your entire careers are built around catching people who kill others. The statistics are not in favor of those who get away with the things they do. They’re in favor of the law. Even knowing certain people in high places?—”

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