Page 38 of Sinful Reality

So I suppose that probably makes me thesecondmost tenacious person I know, because I dog her steps, stock cold and flu pills in my pockets, and know I’ll have to catch her if she stands too quickly and loses consciousness.

So far, so good.

She brings a handful of tissues to her red nose and blows, the strangest, most unnatural honking sound I’ve ever heard emanating from the depths of a beautiful woman. “I need to talk to Aubree.” Her voice is nasally and dry. Raspy and pained as we approach the ninth floor. And when she looks my way, her eyes burn with the fever she pretends not to have. “We left things kinda tense yesterday and?—”

“Today, actually.” I set my hands in my pockets and rockon the backs of my heels. But I’m prepared, just in case, to throw my arms out and catch if she’s on her way to the floor. “We left the scenetoday. It’s still the same day.”

“Whatever.” She breathes through her mouth, searching for more air because her nose won’t allow it. “We left things kinda tensetoday. You and I have said our bit, so now me and Aubree need to.”

“You afraid she’ll cast a spell on you?”

Unimpressed, she firms her lips into a straight line and stares at the shiny steel doors. “She’s not a witch.” When the elevator stops on our level and the doors open, she moves out on fast feet, leaving me behind to catch up.

She strides toward her office door, past Aubree’s empty desk, and glances back to check if the computer screen is off or on—it’s off—then she nudges her door open, unceremoniously lobs her bag in, snatches her white coat and switches out for the one she wears outside, then turning back, she steals handfuls of tissues from Aubree’s desk and stuffs them in her pocket.

“She’s in the suite already.”

“Like I said.” I keep my distance—three feet, at least—so she can’t swing out and hit me, but I turn when she turns and walk when she walks. “Aubree got here a couple of hours ago and said she’d begin sorting through the piles. She knows you’re not feeling well. In fact, coming to work while sick is irresponsible. You could infect your team.”

“Dead people can’t get sick, the George Stanley boasts the best air filtration systems in the city, and each suite is intended for one tech at a time anyway. So, by that logic, no one should be near enough to get sick. Besides,”sniff, “I’m not sick. There.” She fists a fresh tissue from her pocket and narrows her eyes on Doctor Emeri quietly working in her autopsy suite.

And byher, I mean Minka’s.

Target locked, she makes a beeline for the door and shoves the glass open, startling Aubree as bright blue eyes covered in protective plastic swing up in confusion at first, then detached observation. Suspicion. Challenge.

Come at me,she’s saying.I won’t say no to a fight.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” Minka strides through the room and straight to the recorder perched on the far counter. She whips it up and makes a show of switching it off, setting it down, and turning back to her friend with a hard expression. Deadly eyes. Firm lips. Unflinching determination. “Have you forgottenIsigned these remains in, Doctor Emeri?” She scours the massive steel table and the hundred or more bones already laid out. Some are short, some long. Some like disks, while others could be… I don’t even know. The knee joint, maybe? “You’re tampering with my case, kinda like how you tampered with my marriage.”

Challenge, set.

Aubree carefully places her bone with the others, peels her glasses off, and rises from the stool she’d been perched upon. Going toe to toe with a woman already flirting with death is an easy win for a dirty fighter. And Minka’s willingness to duke this shit out leaves me with an agonizing ache twisting in the base of my stomach.

Because saving my wife from a beat-down is always my number one priority. But manhandling Timothy Malone’s wife is…no bueno.

“We need to cool this shit down.” Cautiously, I move from the door and allow it to slowly shut behind me, then I circle the long steel counter and come around to stand on Aubree’s right. Mostly so I can see Minka’s eyes. “Things were tense yesterday, and everyone’s tired today. So how about we calm the fuck?—”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Minka’s apology, coupled with the sickly swallow of mucus sliding down her throat, is like cold water tossed in our faces. But she stares into Aubree’s eyes and dips her chin. “I’m sorry I put you in a position where you thought you had to say something. I felt attacked because you interfered where I didn’t think it was appropriate, and I was offended because your interference felt like a giant ‘I don’t trust you’ punch to my face. Trust, of course, is something I value a great deal within my relationships. Detective Gilbert is clearly a sensitive topic, and I kept that information from my husband because I thought it was the best way to avoid drama and accountability. While I know, without a single shred of doubt, that my conduct with Paxton has been nothing but professional, keeping our past a secret was wrong. But you, being you, were brave enough to speak up,even at the risk of pissing me off and earning a fist in the face for your troubles.”

Stunned, Aubree merely stares. Then frowns. Then stares some more. She looks my way with eyes brimming with curiosity, then back to her boss as a deep line digs between her brows. “You’re sorry?”

“That I snapped at you.” Minka sniffs again and wipes her nose with a scrunched tissue. “Had I been transparent from day one, you wouldn’t have felt the need to step in. Your lack of trust stings, but your integrity makes you exactly who you are. Speaking up not only risked your job, but our friendship. And still, you did what you considered right.”

“And you…” She looks my way. “You guys are good now?”

“Your interference forced us to talk.” Minka blows her nose—honk—and wipes above her lip. “It put allthisin fast forward. Whatever fight was coming, whether it was next week or next month, it was inevitable. I wasn’t ready to face it yet, but it’s done now, and Archer and I said what we had to say.” She peers across and holds my eyes for a beat, a small shift of her lips bringing a barely there smile to her expression. “We’re okay.”

“And now you’re…” Again, Aubree’s brows pinch. “You’re apologizing to me, though youwantto punch me in the face?”

“Yes.” Minka drops her hands and the snotty tissues into her pockets. “That’s accurate. My fist very much tingles to mess up your pretty face, because what you did made me angry. That doesn’t mean you were wrong,” she adds when Aubree opens her mouth to speak, “but it hurt. That typically presents as anger for me. I was ready to smack you with a shovel until you made things right.”

“A shovel?” Aubree’s lips twitch with playfulness. “Really? No wonder you turned the record off. Can’t have those kinds of threats tendered in a courtroom.”

Finally, Minka rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve wanted to hurt you, or you’ve wanted to hurt me. Certainly won’t be the last. But I’m saying I’m sorry. My actions created that situation. That’s on me. Archer and I have cleared the air, and now it’s our turn. Accept my apology.”

“Accept it?” Her eyes dance with humor. “Is that an order, Chief?”

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