Page 94 of Sinful Justice

EPILOGUE

“So you went into a gunfight with a fucking scalpel?” Tim slams a beer down in front of me, and leans onto the bar with a glare. “Seriously? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Smiling, I rest against Archer’s shoulder and allow my eyes to close. I’m sleepy, and it’s closing in on midnight. “I didn’t set out today to end up in that situation.” I slit my eyes open and study the man who is… well, third or fourth generation mafia. “I won.”

“You nearly got yourself fucking killed too.” Archer’s hold is rough, his hand on my hip tight enough I’ll probably bruise. But those bruises, I’ve decided, I’ll wear like a badge of honor. “She walked into his gun and let him hold it against her belly.”

I roll my eyes, even behind my eyelids. “Says the guy who would’ve used his face to catch the bullet.”

“So you offed the mayor?” Somewhat impressed, Tim’s expression changes. “Seriously?”

“Felt good, too.” I fight against a yawn that insists on freedom.

Aubree sits on my other side and takes my hand from Archer’s lap. “Minka?” She says my name gently, like I’m at home in bed, and not inside an otherwise empty bar. “Hey?”

“Mm?”

“You feeling okay?” she whispers. “You lost a lot of blood today.”

“Mm.” The hospital insisted on another transfusion while the cops questioned me; notmycops. Other cops. “I’m fine. Just sleepy. Mayor’s dead, so I’m happy.”

“Sick,” Fletcher sniggers. “We’re supposed to frown upon that stuff, right? As cops, it’s our duty to not encourage killing other people?”

“Next thing we know,” Archer growls, “the vigilante hero-slash-killer will ask her out for brunch to discuss ways to kill people.”

Laughter bubbles along my chest and escapes on a soft snigger. “I like brunch. I could do brunch.”

“Over my dead body,” he growls. “No brunch. No dating other people. No killing other people. It’s bad karma.”

“Uh huh…”

“Minka?” Aubree’s gentle hand comes to my chin and drags me around until our eyes meet. “You still awake?”

“Barely.” I sigh when Archer’s arms hold me tight.He’s the best hugger.“Sleepy.”

“Look at the clock.” She speaks so softly, so quietly, it takes a moment for my brain to process her words. Then I glance across to the clock on the wall and frown. “Midnight?”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Finally!” Bending, Tim and all his sexy lumberjack muscle snags a box from under the bar. Hefting it up, he sets it in front of me with a boyish grin that telegraphs to me and the entire world who his brother is.

I don’t know how I missed it before.

But I know now, and whoever their father might be, no matter how horrible a human being he is, he surely has a cute smile.

“Happy birthday, Doctor Dimples.”

“For me?” Perking up, I sit taller and peel back a single corner of the wrapping. “How’d you even know it was my birthday?”

“Because I know everything.”

He waits as I slowly tear the wrapping. As I peel it back and reveal the bottom of a black box. Then Archer flips it over and shows off a sexy coffee machine that makes my breath catch.

Tim slaps a key onto the bar beside my beer. “Let yourself in. Don’t wake me anymore.”

“You got me a coffee machine and a key?” Sleepiness makes way for love. And nerves. And all those mushy feelings I prefer to cast aside. “Tim?”

“A new machine with a timer on it. I’ll set the beans, the water, and the timer every night. It’ll start dripping at six thirty each morning, and the plate at the bottom will keep the pot warm for hours. When you’re ready for work, let yourself in, pour your poison, then get the hell out without bothering me.”

“Aww…” I peek at Archer and snigger when I find him shaking his head. Then I look to Tim and push up on my stool. “Best birthday present ever.”

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