Page 2 of Sinful Reality

I drop my hand and blink my eyes open,blink-blink-blink, as Aubree’s pale cheeks and wide eyes come back into focus.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Soph makes a sound thatalmosttouches on laughter, with a side of irony. “I believe you guys are… well acquainted.”

Fuck.

ARCHER

“Minka’s freaking out, ya know?” I stride out of the boardroom inside the Copeland City Police Department’s homicide division, my best friend and partner, Charlie Fletcher, on my right, his shoulder brushing mine as we make a beeline for the escalators that will get us out of here. “She’s tryingreallyhard not to ask you about Booth. But she’s crawling out of her skin with curiosity, and if you’re not careful, she’s gonna explode and make a mess all over you.”

“You mean like howyou’retrying really fucking hard not to ask right now?” He moves onto the steel escalator landing and glances across with a teasing smirk. “You think you’re suave because you’re technically not asking, but you’re dying to know, anyway?”

“No.” Yes.Fuck yes!“I’m not asking. I believe in a man’s right to keep secrets, even when the secret is huge and probablyshouldbe shared with his best friend.”

He chuckles, slipping his hands into his pockets so his shoulders expand and the leather holster stretches with the movement. But then he drops his gaze and studies his shoes.

So he’s not forced to lie to my face, Isuppose.

“Booth deserved to die.” He peeks up from the corners of his honeycomb eyes. “He was a shit-stain on society. He did bad things to vulnerable people and took my daughter’s mother away from her. Jada was on a crappy path, I know, and she’s better off where she is now—we’rebetter off now—but that doesn’t mean Booth walks away without punishment.”

“So you’re…”Just say the fucking words, Charlie! “You hired a gun?” I lower my voice since we’re inside a police station. “You had him popped,knowinghe would probably go to the funeral to see her one last time?”

“I confirm no such thing.” Grinning, he lifts his head again just in time to step off the escalator, then he starts toward the front doors and the darkness already waiting for us outside. “I’m just saying, he deserved to die, and I’m not crying that he ate steel in the end.”

“You’re a?—”

“Detective Fletcher?” That thick, booming voice that belongs to none other than Captain Bower brings Fletch and me to a skidding stop just fifteen feet from freedom. My stomach drops into my asshole, and Fletch’s face turns deathly white in my peripherals.

Because Bower following us through the belly of the precinct is… unheard of.

“We weren’t talking loud, were we?” Fletch nervously smooths his shirt and turns to face our captain’s slow approach. It’s like torture, the way the escalator moves at a crawling pace. Torment, the way Bower’s expression gives nothing away. Nothing, except that whatever is on his minddoesn’ttranslate to a smile on his lips. “We didn’t just narc on me, did we?”

“No.” I sniff and turn, fixing my shirt, too, and standing shoulder to shoulder with my best friend. “We didn’t say shit, and you won’t admit to a damn thing. Straighten your spine,” I grit out, “look him in the eye. You have an alibi that won’t be broken, and you’d like to focus on yours and Mia’s grief right now.”

“What if he heard us?”

“He heard nothing,” I snarl. I stand tall and watch the captain work on the last twenty feet that separate us. “Omertàmeans you shut the fuck up.”

“It means you’re going to prison, too; accessory after the fact.”

“Shut up.” I broaden my chest and drop my chin in a nod when he comes to a stop in front of us. “Captain Bower. Shift just ended, so we were heading out for the day. Did we forget something?”

“I wish to speak to Detective Fletcher.” Way too fucking serious, he lifts a single brow, his stare boring into mine. “Alone.”

“Sure. Of course, Cap.” Anxious, I look across at Fletch, only to find his face too pale and his chest visibly pounding. He’s gonna narc on himself if given half the chance. So I tap his arm with my elbow before following orders and stepping back a mere three feet to give them privacy.

Except Bower clears his throat.

So I give them anadditionalthree.

And that’s it. That’s as far as I’m going.

I give them my back and drop my eyes to my shoes.Don’t mind me. I’m just over here, paying attention to the specks in the cheap floor. I’m definitelynotlistening to someone else’s conversation.

“Is there a problem, Captain?” Fletch’s voice is scratchy with nerves. Gravelly with fatigue after living through the worst month of his life. “Our slate is clear, and Arch and I are on call in case something fresh rolls in. But?—”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

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