Page 4 of Hell In A Handbasket
I laugh. “Yeah, like that.” It doesn’t take long to cross the city. Traffic is light since school is in, and it’s past lunch, but not too near the end of the day. Which means ten minutes after leaving our crime scene, I swing the car into the George Stanley driveway and down into the undercover parking garage beneath. “I wanna drop something in with the lab here.”
“I wanted a shower,” he grumbles, tugging the sun visor down and checking himself in the mirror. Fuck knows why. His beloved Seraphina Lewis quit this place ages ago. “We could’ve gone to the station first and logged our evidence.”
“Or we could come here, do our illegal shit before Lieutenant Fabian asks questions, andthenhead to the station.” I kill the engine and snap his sun visor up till it hits the ceiling with a slam. Then I grin and push my door open. “You still look pretty, Charlie. And I promise not to let anyone lock you in a fridge.”
“You’re still a fuckwit.” He climbs out of his side and follows me all the way to the elevator doors, and then slaps the call button, stepping back and looking me up and down. “Elton was a better friend than you ever have been. He was ready to stand up for me today.”
“Till he saw my knife and realized it was your life or his.” I step through the opening elevator doors and turn back to face the front, selecting Mayet’s floor with easy familiarity. “The moment he understood the price, he was outta there. I, on the other hand, have always stayed put when shit got dangerous. In fact, I recall you lying on the ground in a dark alleyway at the end of last year. Bullet in your thigh. Life flashing before your eyes. I saved your life.”
“Mayet saved my life.” He takes a step back when the elevator slows on the ground floor.Someone ruined our straight shot to Minka.“Since we’re being allmatter of fact,”he drawls. “Maybe Ishouldbed your wife. She seems more my type anyway.”
The doors open to reveal a beautiful, office-chic Seraphina Lewis, whose eyes narrow at the incriminating words bouncing from steel wall to steel wall. But then those same eyes widen with panic, her breath exploding on a gasp as she shoots straight in and shoves my partner to the wall.
It could be kinda sexy, take-charge, go-get-em, especially when she tears his shirt up. But her frantic breath and fussing hands say otherwise. “What the hell happened, Charlie?” She wipes his stomach, searching for his wound. “You need to go to the hospital!”
“Aww, Fifi. He’s okay.” I lazily fold my arms and cross my feet at the ankles, because we still have a ride before we reachmygirl. “That’s pig’s blood, and the only wounds he suffered today were to his ego.”
Furious, she grabs his jaw and whips his head around to study the grazing my knuckles left behind.
“Well,that’sreal,” I amend sheepishly. “He got socked in the face by an exceptionally skilled fighter. It was an excellent jab, really.”
“What the hell is going on, Charlie?”
“The blood on my shirt is fake.” He circles her wrist with his fingers. Fuck knows he doesn’thaveto. He simplywantsto. “The bruise on my jaw is real because this motherfucker,” he hooks a thumb in my direction, “doesn’t know how to put on a show without being violent.”
“You hit him?” She pins me with a glare. “Why did you hit him?”
“The city paid me good money to.” Much like Elton did earlier, I lift both hands in surrender. “It was work, so calm the hell down before someone mistakes this,” I gesture her way, “for affection. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you had a crush on my best friend.”
Middle-school mockery. Effective, even in adulthood.
Instantly, she drops her hands and weaves her fingers together, turning her back to my partner, who shoots a fiery look my way. Then, she broadens her shoulders and shakes her hair back.Business as usual. “It baffles me, honestly, that the city pays you anything. Considering you spend all your time screwing around inside this building.”
“I suppose the same could be said for you. The city pays you to work at the mayor’s office, and yet…”
The very second the doors open on Minka’s floor, Fifi takes off like a shot, long dancer legs, high heels, and way too much pride for any one woman to carry. And for every step she takes, Fletch’s eyes follow. But I catch sight ofmywife hating life in front of her computer. Her head in her hands, and five—count them,five—discarded coffee mugs littering her desk.
I lower my gaze and start forward, fully intending to waltz straight into her office and sweep her up for a late lunch, but Fletch’s arm comes across faster than my distracted brain can process. His fist slams into my solar plexus, and his fiery eyes burn my flesh.
Stunned, I bring my gaze up.
“I would surely appreciate it if youdidn’tmake shit harder for me.” Frustrated, he palms the side of my face and shoves. “Jesus, Malone.”
“What?” Laughing, I push off the wall and follow him out of the elevator. “I was pointing out that her concern was endearing.”
“Not helpful!”
“What the hell happened to you?” Aubree bounds up and knocks her desk forward an inch or two, hissing from the pain of her thighs hitting the solid wood. Which, of course, alerts her boss, which brings Minka to her feet. Hell, the whole fucking floor of techs poke their heads through doorways to gawk at the bloody and bruised Detective Fletcher. Striding around her desk, Aubree blows straight past Fifi and smacks her hand to Fletch’s belly, exactly how Fifi did it—not so sexy anymore—and pulling his shirt up, she studies the mess with far more calm than the woman before her.
That’s the difference between a woman who cares and adoctorwho cares.
The latter can assess a wound faster and with less panic.
She tears his shirt higher, exposing his chest and jerking him around so she gets a view of his back, too. Then she spins him again and grabs his face.
Dammit, they keep coming back to his face.
“You’re unharmed,” she growls. “Mostly. Hard day today?”
