Page 15 of Hell In A Handbasket
“Aubree!”
She straightens out and beams, finger waving. “Love you, buddy. See you soon.”
I choke out a laugh and snag the rest of my things from the tray. “That was mean.”
“He’s had way too much freedom, and no one is out here keeping him accountable.” Aubree collects her backpack and slips her phone into her pocket, then turns and presents herself with puckered lips, smiling and waiting for Tim to do as Tim does.
He grips her jaw and smacks a kiss right in the middle. “I’m a little conflicted, Emeri. Because that’s my baby brother, and I’m probably supposed to protect him.”
“Aubree!” Cato fights the agent’s hold, shouting and drawing eyes all the way to the back of the line. He kicks out and earns himself two more agents that herd him backward. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m a made man!”
“It’s done now.” Casually, Archer snags our carry-on and slings his arm over my shoulders. “Let’s go. Our flight leaves soon.”
“Here’s hoping they find that cocaine quickly,” Aubree giggles. “I’d hate for him to miss the flight.”
“You joke,” Fletch grumbles, snatching up his things and staring down at his phone screen. “But if he misses the flight, he’ll go straight home to my g?—”
“To your what?”
Wide-eyed, he clears his throat and scratches his jaw. “My daughter. And Sera.”
“You were gonna saymy girls.” Aubree accepts Tim’s offered hand and allows him to lead her toward the exit. “I heard everything you didn’t say just now, Detective. I like it.”
“Shut up.” He sets his small suitcase on wheels on the floor. “Start walking.”
* * *
“Ican’t believe she’s making us fly economy.” I reach under my butt and search for my seatbelt, yanking the heavy metal clasp out and hitting the armrest between me and Archer with a noisy clang.
I grit my teeth and peek across at his adoring gaze. “Sorry.”
He chuckles and snaps my belt together, pulling it tight until I feel the squeeze on my stomach.
Airport workers do their thing outside my window, wearing high-visibility vests and talking into headsets, while other passengers file in and, behind us, Aubree, Tim, and Fletch take their seats.
“I don’t mean to sound so high maintenance,” I press. “I guess I’ve just come to expect a certain way of travel.”
“You sound exactly how you don’t want to sound.” Archer fixes his belt, the aisle seat to his right conspicuously vacant, and then he takes my hand and feathers his lips along my wrist. The tip of his nose. When he’s sure no one can see, he uses his tongue, too. “I fear I’ve created a monster.”
“It’s not like I need luxury in all things.” I fold my legs and drag my case files onto my lap since Soph has set me up with all the information she knows I need before I step foot on a murder scene. “I eat burgers for dinner more often than I can count. And I walk to work every day.”
“You live in an apartment with crappy cooling and heating, too.” Aubree leans forward, reminding me that our conversation isnotprivate. “You should probably move to The Waterfalls soon, don’t you think? It’s time.”
“If you’re anxious about moving into your fancy new house, then that’s on you, Emeri.” I palm the gap between our chairs and push her back. “Don’t move. Do move. I don’t care. But don’t base your decisions on what Archer and I are doing.”
“You have a whole house just sitting up there in the hills! Use it! Don’t be wasteful.”
“She’s only saying that because she has to pack when we get back to Copeland.” Archer nibbles along my wrist, nipping gently on my skin. “It cost oodles of money, and now she feels weird about it. Capitalistic Barbie back there is insecure.”
“I’m not capitalistic! And I’m not insecure. At least I’ll beusingmy house. Capitalism is owning a mansion in the hills and not even occupying it.That’swasteful.”
“Eh.” Archer leans in to my space, his lips hovering by my ear. “How are you feeling? Okay?”
“Medicated. Fed.Noexistential dread.” I tilt to the right and thrill in the pleasure of his lips sizzling against my cheekbone. He doesn’t think about it, and I don’t hesitate. He merely kisses, because we’re close enough to do so. “Unlike you, I’m not freaked out about this. It’s my job, Archer. I’ve consulted on cases exactly like this in the past.”
“It’snotyour job,” he rumbles. “Because the person who called you is not an authorized official of the city or state you work for. She’s not federal either,” he adds before I can argue. “She’s a civilian with too much firepower and an ego larger than Aubree’s giant house.”
“Stop talking about my house!” Aubree smacks the back of Archer’s chair, pushing him forward until his knees hit the chair in front of us. But then she squeaks, gasping and clapping a hand to her mouth.
