Page 42 of Sinful Promise
I set a third mug beneath the spout and hit the button to get the machine started.
He’s as intuitive as I am,also known as suspicious, so he spares a glance back toward my brothers and scowls. “Why do I feel like I gotta watch my back?”
“Because the fuckin’ mafia is in town.” I bring my coffee up and speak behind the lip of the mug. “They’re not Felix,” I murmur. “But still.”
“We can hear you.” Cato pushes away from the couch and bounce, bounce, bounces his ball. “Copeland Condors playing this week? I’d be interested in catching a game.”
“I’m working.” I lower my mug and step out of the way when the machine beeps to announce it’s done pouring a third cup. “Condors aren’t playing tonight.”
And I have dinner with the mayor Saturday. Fuck me.
“When do you expect to head back to New York?” I press.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. “Tim offered me a bed in Copeland anytime I wanted it.”Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.“Did you and I develop beef since I last saw you… two days ago? Because I thought we were cool.”
“We are cool. But making surprise visits, using Cordoza’s plane, and dropping in at my place at…” I check the clock, and sigh when I find how early it still is. “Seven in the fucking morning? That’s suspicious, Cato. So forgive me for being a little standoffish.”
“Well… in my defense,”bounce, bounce, bounce, “it’s the middle of the morning in New York.”
“So you left at, what…” I do fast math in my mind. “Three o’clock this morning?”
“Nah. We left at ten last night, then we slept on the jet till six—which is a sleep-in for us. We waited as long as we could so you could rest.”Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. “Now we’re here. And you’re not being very nice.”
“If you keep bouncing that fucking ball, my mood won’t matter, because our downstairs neighbor will slaughter you.” Setting my mug on the counter, I stomp closer and snatch the basketball from his hands when he goes to bounce it again. “Where are you staying while you’re here?” Then I think of Tim next door. So close, yet so far away. “Did you wake Tim up yet?”
“We were gonna go to him next,” Micah exhales. He’s exhausted beyond words, but still conscious enough to annoy me. “Figured he’d had far less sleep than you, since he runs that bar.”
“And we were gonna stay here.” Cato strides across the kitchen and takes my coffee, too fucking lazy to make his own.Or perhaps mad I have his ball.“You wouldn’t throw us out on the street would you, Arch?”
“We’ll get a place,” Micah sighs. Then, “Stop making this worse,” he faintly grouses at Cato. “Arch is already pissed. Stop poking.”
“I’m not poking! I’m asking a genuine question, because it wasn’t all that long ago he was offering education and board and all sorts of shit if I walked away from the family. But now I’m here, and he’s acting like I stepped on his dinner.”
“You took my coffee.” I grab another mug from the cupboard and toss it beneath the coffee spout. After flicking the button, I move to my fridge and take out a protein drink I usually buy for Minka. She needs the sustenance, since she rarely ever thinks to feed herself, even when her stomach growls, but right this moment, someone else needs it more.
Screwing the lid off and tossing it into the trash, I walk the bottle to Micah and extend my hand, waiting as he slowly opens his eyes and studies my offering. “Drink this before you make yourself weaker. You can stay in my apartment.”
Warily, he accepts the drink and looks around the living room. “Here?”
“No.” I head back to the kitchen to join the other two and get my coffee. “My old apartment. Where I lived before moving in here. It’s still furnished and shit.”
Cato snorts. “You’re not worried about these suspiciousmafia motherfuckersgoing through your shit?”
When I look across and our eyes meet, he raises a single, daring brow.
“No,” I bite out. “Because Felix long ago broke in and helped himself to my home. So stay as long as you want. But just so we’re all on the same page,” I glance Micah’s way, though I can only see the back of his dark hair, “I don’t believe you’re hereonlyfor medical treatment. So until you tell the truth and stop pussyfooting around, I’m gonna treat you as an outsider. Moo!” I head into the hall and finally grin as the little girl toddles to the door with my snow-white cat clutched in her arms.
“Wanna get breakfast with Uncle Arch and Aunty Minka?”
“Hotdogs on a stick?” she exclaims.
Dropping Chloe, so the feline skids on the smooth floor and searches for traction to dart back into the room, Mia rushes to the bathroom door and hammers with her little fists. “Minka! Are you coming to breakfast too? Minka!”
ARCHER
“Alright, Doctor Torres. Tell us what we’ve got.”
After a breakfast of deep fried hot dogs and bouncing little girls, it’s still early. Minka’s at her desk. Aubree’s kicking herself for not crashing our party this morning, and subsequently missing the gossip. Cato wanted to come too, but Micah’s too unwell to be left alone, so my youngest brother was delegated to babysitting duty—albeit, in the fucking apartment I share with Minka. Fletch has made the handoff of toddler to nanny, and now, we’re in the fridges on level two of the George Stanley building, looking at Laramie Fentone’s ugly face.
