Page 61 of Sinful Seduction
“Because she’s a nasty cow. Dumb bitch would rather search for high school gossip than report on literally anything else with a modicum of journalistic respect or pride.”
Archer brings me all the way to the George Stanley, but he doesn’t walk me in. He doesn’t even inch closer to the cool air wafting from the revolving door. “Your jealousy turns me on, Chief. Just thinking about you tearing her face off because she and I have history makes me hard.”
“That’s the Malone in you.”I’m not pouting.Ish.“I love you and all that, and we already discussed the arsenic ending, since I choose not to live without you, but there’s a part of you, a part of Cato, and Felix, and all the rest of you, that is just…” I drop my shoulders back and huff. “Cracked.”
He smirks.
“And maybe that part of you is necessary to fill out the rest of you. Maybe I even like going to bed withthatpart, since it’s often deliciously deranged and all sorts ofgood. So good.” I release a breathy exhale. “I loveallof you. But let’s not pretend you’re not at least a little unhinged.”
“That’s the part of me that runs the streets and belongs to a powerful family. A family with a reputation for fear and zero tolerance for disrespect. It takes care of the things the homicide detective side of me can’t, since rules slow a man down.”
“And you balance both facets with skill.” I push onto my toes and tap his bottom lip with my tongue. “Go do your thing, arrest your killer, and if you have time, deal with the dress stuff, too.” I lower to flat feet. “You know what size I am. You touch me all over every single day.”
“Which is my God-given right.” He pats my hip and takes a step back, flashing a flirty wink as he goes. “Be safe. Call me. Don’t get mad at me because I’m talking to Miranda.”
I gnash my teeth together and do exactly the opposite. “I’m gonna be pissed all day long. It’s like you’re cheating on me.”
His phone trills, prompting his hand to move around to his back pocket and retrieve the device. He studies the screen, then swipes and accepts the call. “Hang on a sec, Fletch.” He lowers his hand, but lifts his chin toward my building. “Get into the cool. Don’t work too hard. Drink some water. And I’m not cheating on you, so don’t hold on to that rage for too long.”
I spite-sip my coffee and turn on my heels, timing my steps and trudging into the revolving door space before the glass pane slams into me. I’ve walked this threshold a million times already, so my body knows what to do, even with a janky knee, so I peek over my shoulder and lock eyes with the most selfless man who ever lived.
He smirks and blows a kiss, then he brings his phone up and turns on his heels.
Guess I’m going to work then.
Exiting the door and locking eyes with the security guard—a different guard from last night—I nod in hello and turn toward the elevator. But Donna sits in her chair again, her shoulders hunched and her head drooping. She’s in a fresh outfit, with fresh hair;at least she left and came back again. “Mrs. Beecroft.” I approach slowly, careful not to startle the old woman. Swallowing, I come around an empty chair and sit on the edge, anything to getunderher line of sight. “You must be exhausted, Mrs. Beecroft. Surely there’s someone we can call for you.”
Gaunt, she inches her shadowed gaze up. “Can you bring him here today? Could you make the hospital release him and?—”
I sigh as frustration builds in my chest.No, I cannot have your husband transferred to my facilityjust because. And no, I can’t fit him into my already overflowing workload.
But even as my brain focuses on my irritation, my heart sympathizes with her grief. Archer and I have made our plans; we’ve established our exit plan. But if we hadn’t… if we didn’t have time to think ahead… “I understand you want to be near Theo, Mrs. Beecroft.” I set my coffee on the small table and take her hands in mine. They’re shaky and bony. Weak and with paper-thin skin. “I’m married too, and I love my husband very, very much. If I lost him the way you lost Theodore this week, I’m certain I wouldn’t handle it with nearly as much grace as you have. I know this is hard, but if you let them, the social workers at the hospital will help you make arrangements for his end-of-life services. They’ll get you the support you need during this awful time.”
“End-of-life services.” Her chest and shoulders cave in on themselves. Her breath hitching and bouncing along her throat. “He isn’t supposed to be at hisend-of-life, Doctor Mayet. It wasn’t time yet.”
It is time. His body said so.
“We didn’t have time to say goodbye,” she weeps. “We didn’t have time to discussanything. It was just a Tuesday, like every other Tuesday.”
“Mrs. Beecroft?—”
“People aren’t supposed to die on regular Tuesdays! Not when we haven’t opened the mail yet. Not when there’s still laundry in the machine and meat on the counter, because I was going to make cottage pie for dinner.” Fat tears spill onto her sunken cheeks. “You aren’t supposed to die when you have plans to watch a movie at the cinema, since Tuesdays are when seniors get discounted tickets and free popcorn. Theo still had vitamins left in his pack, and I bought him a new shirt last week. He didn’t even wear it yet.” She drags her hand from mine, hastily swiping her cheek. “He didn’t wear it, because he said it was too nice for a regular day, so he was saving it for a special occasion.” She releases a heaving, hiccupping breath. “We had plans, Doctor Mayet. And now they’re just… Now he’s gone. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.”
ARCHER
“If we trace it back, we have Ben eating lead late Monday night. Molly is shot at the same time and rushed into surgery immediately after. Detectives arrive around midnight, assessing the scene into Tuesday morning. Molly wakes later Tuesday.”
Fletch writes our timeline on the whiteboard in our war room, messy scrawling letters and uneven lines making for a chaotic line that leads tonow. But while I sit at the table, a laptop open in front of me and Molly’s smiling face beaming out from the screen, Fletch walks backwards to the pre-shooting period. “Molly’s parents confirm she was safe and in her bedroom at approximately ten o’clock. By eleven, she was at the Bay.”
“Because Ben told her to.” I flick to Molly’s next post. Her next video. Her next public diary entry. “Those were the words she said:because he told her to.” I push the laptop back, twisting it on the table. “School’s out in June, and Molly’s internship begins the very next week. She’s documented a bunch of her days, getting to the office. Touring Channel Seventy-Nine. Meeting the staff.”
Fletch’s lips curl into a taunting smile. “Meeting Miranda London.”
“Minka isn’t pleased.” I chuckle, but then I point to the video on my screen. “Miranda had that run-in last year, right? It was scary for the woman accustomed to a cushy lifestyle. She’s attacked by a man and saved by a woman who doesn’t even like her. She lost her job at a prestigious network while she was in the hospital, recuperating from her ordeal.”
“None of which has anything to do with Benjamin Saxon…” He pauses. “Right?”
“Notdirectly. But indirectly…” I watch on in silence as, a month ago, Molly follows behind Miranda with giddy excitement and bubbling enthusiasm. She bounces around the studio, fetching water and whatever the showrunner wants, and she documents most of it with a shaky camera hand and stilted imagery. But always, Molly glows with youthful excitement. “I ran Grant Freemon through our system, because I wanted to see who he was when he was Ben’s age. Armed robbery. Grand theft auto. He got caught transporting drugs more than a few times and was picked up for intimidation when a buyer didn’t have enough cash. Dragged in on dozens of crimes that weren’t his, purely because he associated with the folks who committed them. His history is checkered and ugly, so by his last court appearance, it was ordered that he would never own a gun. He couldn’t carry one, couldn’t keep one in the home. Couldn’t apply for one, and if, at any point in the future, he was in possession of one, his ass would be back in court faster than he could blink. The judge was lenient because Grant was young, and by the time the case was heard, he’d already turned his life around. He was remorseful, he was righting his wrongs, voluntary community service, glowing reports from some of the toughest assessors on the streets, and at that point, he was holding down a legitimate job, turning up, clean and respectful, and his boss vouched for him.”
