Page 66 of Hell In A Handbasket
“I’m done.” Aubree takes a long step back and releases Jess’ leg, then she runs to Christabelle and cowers as the rest tumble. They land on the sidewalk in a pile of limbs, tangled legs, and groaning complaints. But Aubree merely looks up and locks eyes with me, smirking. “There’s a fire escape ladder two doors down.”
“Thanks.” I peace-symbol the Checkmate girls and start that way. “Appreciate you looking out, Aubs.”
“Anytime, Chief.”
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“You blew your cover.” Minka slides her hand against mine, twining our fingers and cuddling into my arm until her cheek rests on the ball of my shoulder, and her smile is everything I feel.Everything.“You were supposed to be committing a crime, Detective. Not following us.”
“The fuck did you expect us to do?” Kane swings around and walks backwards, cradling an entirely too comfortable Jess in his arms. “You threw my wife off a fucking building! That’s grounds for a shallow ditch if I ever saw one.”
“And now I’m bleeding.” Furrowing her brows, Jess points down at a superficial scrape on her knee. “I probably need an X-ray. Surgery, even. It’s horrific.”
“You have a scratch,” Aubree drawls. “Jesus. This is why I went into the dead-people field of medicine. Not the alive kind.”
“They whine so much more when they’re alive,” Minka agrees. “So much!”
“We’re allowed to whine.” Sophia rides on Jay’s back, monkey-gripping his throat and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Because we’re just a group of idiots, I guess, walking our asses back to our broken-down bus, so we can sleep in the heat and bitch at each other about how uncomfortable we are, instead of admit we’re kinda having fun. It’s what a bunch of stubborn, emotionally stunted adults do. “You threw us off a building. I haveneverin my life been so disrespected. Men quiver in their boots when they hear my name. They piss their pants and call their mommies when word spreads that I’m coming for them. But you—YOU,” she exclaims dramatically. “You tried to kill me tonight..” She shakes her head. “That’s cold, V. Cold as ice.”
“She makes a habit of calling you V, and I’m gonna make a habit of burying ballerinas.” I rest my lips in Minka’s hair and breathe her into the depths of my lungs. “I’m not cool with this new level of comfort with your secret.”
“No one threw you anywhere,” Christabelle grumbles. “You were climbing like idiots and, as is often the case, idiots fall. It’s Natural Selection at its best.” She falters in her steps, resting a hand on her belly and biting down on the hiss Iknowshe wants to let out. But she refuses. For as long as Felix’s eyes arenoton her, she’s free and clear and able to lie about that damned baby bringing her pain. “Anyone with half a brain knows looking for a ladder is smarter than creating a human centipede.”
“You think she’ll admit to those contractions anytime soon?” Tilting her head back, Minka grins up at me and puckers her lips in expectation. Because walking in the moonlight is when we get to be a little less guarded. It’s when she gets to be a little softer and more whimsical. “They’re still ten minutes apart. Not yet consistent. But still…”
“Yes, Daddy! Minka Mayet!” Jen dances with one hand trapped in Corey’s, spinning and beaming under his gaze. But she holds a phone to her ear with her other hand. “ThatMinka. The one you think poops rainbows. She pushed Soph off a building. I’m being totally serious!”
“Jesus,” Minka groans. “This is how rumors start.”
“You wanna get some privacy?” I slow our steps, pulling her back and allowing the others to charge forward until ten feet separate us and them. Then twenty feet. “Let them go on.”
“Really?” She comes around and leans in to my chest, searching my eyes as her plump lips curl higher and the dimples in her cheeks pop. It’s the same type of magic stars have. “You aren’t afraid I’ll toss you off a building, Detective?”
I fold forward until her spine arches and her lashes flutter down to kiss her cheeks. “I’m afraid of a lot of things, Chief. Starting with every meal you cook, and ending with how different the outcome would be if you were the one who fell instead of Jess and Soph. But afraid of you tossing me anywhere?” I bring us to a complete stop, unnoticed by the rest of our ragtag group, and though we remain in the middle of the road, there is no traffic. No one around to see us. Not a single CCTV camera in sight, because this town is small and old, and most of its residents are currently packed inside a local gym, celebrating a wedding we never made it to. “How do you feel?” I pepper my lips over her jaw, nipping and soothing. Tasting and enjoying the tang of sweat on her skin. “It’s infusion night, and it’s getting kinda late.”
“I’ve gone longer without factor.” She walks her hands up my chest, over my shoulders, and around to slide her fingers through the hair at the back of my head. “There’s no rule that says I have to infuse at dinnertime every second night.”
“There’s not?” I tilt her head to the side and drag my tongue along the warm pulse point in her neck. “But since we’re getting to the tail end of your two days, you’re more likely to bleed?”
“I’m more likely to be careful.” She peeks toward the rest of our group. Spence, chatting to his wife on the phone. Fletch, doing the same… except Fifi ain’t his yet. Jen snitches to the mayor, besmirching Minka’s perfectly imperfect reputation, and Christabelle… protects my brother from stress. It’s what the women in our lives do. They shield us from what hurts us mentally, while we shield them from what hurts physically.
Bringing her focus back around, she massages the back of my neck, scratching the skin and searching my gaze. But then she smirks and tilts her head. “Did you see that big rotunda in the park?”
Confused, I follow her gaze and furrow my brows. “The fuck is a rotunda?”
Snickering, she drops her hands and grabs mine instead, then she takes off, hauling me toward the park we already passed twice tonight, the grassy area and beautiful gardens bigger than an entire main-street block… times ten.
Music plays in the air, rolling out from the wedding until the bass coincides with the thump of my heart. Minka dashes through the darkness, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch of a sycamore tree as leaves tangle in her hair, and though I catch a fierce slap of the branch against my face, Minka’s belly-giggle takes the sting away in an instant.
I’ll never tire of hearing her laugh.
“The rotunda.” She swings her arm toward the gazebo in the middle of the park, with lattice walls and thick ivy growing all around, turning what was just a roof with a half dozen pillars, into an almost entirely closed-in space.
Not watertight. Not soundproof.
But moderately private.
“See?”
