Page 3 of Sinful Deception

“Mia, who? Oh, you mean McStinkerson? Yeah.” He wrinkles his nose at the girl. “I got her. She’s the best chick magnet ever.”

“Stop using my daughter to trick women into something they’re not ready for.” Fletch crosses the apartment and circles Archer and the couch, then he yanks his daughter into his arms and noisily kisses her cheek. “Warn every single woman he talks to that he’s no good, Moo. He’s a rat, and they’re best to walk away before they’re in too deep.”

“Don’t be passive-aggressive, Detective.” Cato stands as well, stealing the girl from her father’s arms and flashing a sneaky middle finger where Mia can’t see. “We’re gonna hit up the diner first because Uncle Cato wants scrambled eggs, and the server is cute as hell. Then I’ll send the bill to your daddy because I enjoy being an annoyingrat.”

“You’re so silly.” Mia swings around, halfheartedly reaching out for Fletch. But she clings to Cato, too. “He’s got me, Daddy! You can go to work.”

“Miss Penny will get you from school, okay?” He takes out his trilling phone and scans the screen just long enough to make me wonder if the detectives already have a new case, but then he silences the device and pays attention to his daughter instead. “Don’t step outside that school till Miss Penny has you, okay?”

“I won’t.” She squeals when Cato bends to grab his backpack, practically dangling the girl upside down. But then he straightens again and mock-slams the basketball to her belly for her to carry.

“Let’s go, McStinkerson. The eggs are calling to my belly, and the waitress smiles extra big when I bring you along. I get all the single-dad perks, without doing any of the work.”

For the third time today, Aubree gags.

“Come on.” Archer takes my hand and pulls me up to stand, bringing me just a little closer until we’re hugging. “The apartment will be quiet tonight. Cato has a late class, and Fletch and Aubree have the good sense to stay away. Date night, Mayet. Just me and you.”

“Thank God. Deal.” I stand on my toes and kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thanks for this morning.”

He grins that way he does that makes my knees a little weak and my stomach jump with nerves. Because he knowsexactlywhat I’m thankful for. Then he taps my chin with the pad of his thumb and winks. “My pleasure.”

“Good lord,” Fletch growls. “Can we stop with the happy-happy bullshit? It’s nauseating.”

“Go to work, Detectives.” I roll my eyes and grudgingly stand on my own as Archer turns away. “Don’t get hurt. I’m sick of seeing one of you wrapped in bandages.”

“My leg is mostly healed.” Fletch makes a show of limping toward the door. “Hardly need my cane anymore.”

“Can I have it?” Aubree questions slyly. “So I can smack you with it.”

ARCHER

Istep into the war room inside our precinct, not because we have an active homicide cooling faster than we can keep up, but because the table is large enough to spread all our files and shit on and keep something that could possibly, distantly, be described as organization.

My mind and eyes are on my task, but when Fletch silences another call and slips the phone into his pocket, I set my file on the table and look across to my partner.

Because this has been going on since yesterday. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Hmm?” He glances up and waves me off like he thinks that’ll convince me to mind my own fucking business. Then he wanders around to the box I set down earlier and takes the lid off, pulling out files and reading those—or pretending to, at least. “Wanna take another swing at the Smith?—”

“I’ve let you have your privacy.” I slap the top of his file and smirk when his honeycomb eyes pivot my way. “I was more interested in spending time with my wife and getting her into bed. But now I’m paying attention, and I’m not letting youhmmyour way out of this. Who keeps calling, and why aren’t you talking to them?”

“Trust me.” He snatches up his file and turns away. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I do.” Curiosity beats in my blood as I fold my arms and bar the door, if only to ensure he can’t escape. “I hate to bring her up, but the only thing I can think of, that you think I don’t wanna know about, is Jada.”

He sets his hands on the back of a chair, hunching over the faux leather and arching his spine. “Ding ding, Detective. She’s dragged herself out of whatever sewer she’s been in since rolling me for my TV and Tylenol. Now she’s blowing up my phone and asking for another chance.”

For fuck’s sake.

Though, those are not the words that leave my mouth. “You’re not willing to give her another chance?”

He barks out an exhausted laugh. “Look at you, pretending to be tolerant. If I said I was bringing her into my apartment tonight, you’d be in my face and telling me how stupid I am.”

Well, yeah. True.“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here for you. Whatever your choices, however you get through, I’m here to listen. So is she… uh…” I clear my throat. “Is she coming back?”

“She’s trying to.” He squeezes the chair until the leather stretches in protest and his knuckles turn white. “She’s sorry. She’s cleaning up. She’s willing to go to rehab, blah blah blah.” He lifts his head and punches me with the look of a man in pain. “She swears it’s different this time, Arch.”

“So you’ll take her in?”Please, God, don’t do that to yourself again.But I grind the words over my tongue, “I’ll support your choices.”

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