Page 52 of Sinful Promise
“I’ve been a little sleepy,” he smirks… sleepily. “Cato did most of the talking. Cordoza’s spending time with Felix so we don’t have a repeat of that shitshow with Pastore, and when Cato said he wanted to bring me to you, Cordoza was all for it.”
My brows pinch tight in suspicion. “Cordoza wanted Felix alone?” Ridiculously, panic washes through my stomach for a man I don’t even like.
Felix can eat a speeding train for all I care. He can pour his own cement shoes and choose the bridge he’d like to jump off of. But now,the Godfather, the New York boss of all bosses, has him all alone.
And for some reason, I worry about the jerk.
“Do you trust Cordoza?”
He snorts. “Doyou? You’re his new best friend, no? You escorted him to that fuckin’ party in New York. He’s kissing your knuckles, hugging you, and calling you agood girl. Sounds to me like maybe you’ve got an agreement with the old man.”
“I have a truce,” I admit on a grumble.But that doesn’t mean I know him.
I don’t know if he’ll kill Felix the moment he has him alone. Or if he’ll take this chance—Old Man Malone is dead, Tim and Archer live here in Copeland, and now Micah and Cato have left the city to annoy me—to slit Felix’s throat and put an end to another family’s reign in New York City.
“I don’t know if I trust Cordoza,” I confess quietly. “My trust in him goes only as far as my trust in someone else, and she vouches for him.”
“Michelle Mancino.” Considering, he lets his eyes drift closed again as I set his hand aside and pull his shirt up instead. “I thought she was dead.”
Nope.She just fled New York, the way half of the Malones did. But she has a different name now, a husband, and a home somewhere no one can find her.
“What do you know about Justin Dowel’s case here in Copeland?”
Adrenaline jumps in my veins and makes my blood pump faster. Swinging my gaze back up to Micah’s, I’m met with his steely glare, and lips firmed with determination. “What?”
“Justin Dowel,” he repeats. “They say he was killed by a ghost.”
“No…” Frowning, I make myself busy inspecting his stitches. “The vigilante. Not a ghost.”
“Mmm. The vigilante.” In my peripherals, I catch his burning stare. His intense study, like he knows what so few others do. “What do you know?”
“That it’s another active homicide investigation, and as I said, I don’t discuss those with civilians.”
His lips curl up on the side. “Archer’s investigation, no? And there’s also that new dude who died a couple of nights ago.”
Laramie Fentone.
“And I don’t know if you know, but there was this one murder in New York late last year. Preston James.”
Nausea rolls in my stomach and sweat beads on my spine.
He knows. Somehow, he fucking knows it was me.
“New York is on the other side of the country, Micah. There’s no way it connects to anything in Copeland.”
“Mm… Archer has always been the defender of women, ya know? Started with Jill, all the way back when he was sixteen. Younger than Cato is now.” His grin turns more severe. “Do you think he became a cop to arrest assholes? Or so he could help the abused, but hide behind a badge and a gun?”
“Archer?” Confused, I allow myself the liberty of meeting Micah’s eyes. “What are you even—”
“Preston James hurt the innocent, Doc. So did Justin Dowel. And whatdoyaknow, same fucking day Arch gets back from New York, Laramie Fentone is dead. And that motherfucker just so happens to hurt girls, too.”
“So?” I search his green stare. His smug expression. He’s so certain he’s figured out something integral. But he’s looking at the wrong person. He’s pinned the wrong killer. “Archer was living in Copeland when Preston James was killed.”
His brows shoot high on his forehead. “Archer waslivingin Copeland. But he wasinNew York that night. You didn’t know?”
Pushing up to sit, like he has a sixth sense about enemies who may be approaching, the back of Micah’s head hits the couch cushions just as the apartment door opens and Archer walks through.
His gaze burns hot, and tension sits tight in his jaw. He’s not angry as our eyes meet, but he’s thoughtful. Stressed. And when he processes my position on the coffee table facing his brother, his brows pinch tight in curiosity.
