I shrug. “I saw Apartment 1B was opening up, too.”
“Steve’s place? Dude!” He leans forward. “The old coot didn’t die!”
“No.” Laughing, I lob a pen across my desk to his. “Steve is 1A, stupid. Tenants across the hall are moving out, so if you’re looking for a place…”
“Oh… well…” His brows furrow in consideration. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
“Working hard, Detective Malone?” Drake Banks meanders past my desk and slaps my feet until they hit the floor with a jarring thud. “You’re doing a piss-poor job of convincing me you’re carrying that badge for the right reasons.” He tugs out his chair and drops into it just fifteen feet from mine. “Dirty cops come in all shapes and sizes, I guess.”
“Yeah? And then there are bitches like you.” I straighten in my seat and ignore Fletch’s wary stare warming the side of my face. “DEA washouts, ball-less nobodies with a track record for lazy work and a constant stream of corrupt partners. That makes you the common denominator, Special Agent Fuckface.” I flash a wide smile and meet Officer Clay’s horrified gaze. “Careful with that one, kid. Drake’s last partner ended up in the loony bin with a broken neck. Partner before that died.Twice. Not sure why Lieutenant Fabian is punishing you, but you probably should get your affairs in order before it’s too late.”
“You two better shut the fuck up,” Fletch growls between tight teeth. “Did you forget the get-along shirt thing? Fabian isn’t playing.”
“Eh. If the shirt fits, then I guess I’ll wear it, but I won’t pretend to be friendly with a dude whoseonlyredeeming quality is the girlfriend we all think is sweet as pie. In fact,” I swing my eyes back to Clay. “Rory’s about your age, right? Maybe you should ask her out. Save her from a lifetime strapped to this bitch.”
“Listen here, motherfuck?—”
“Detective Malone!”
I wrench my head around and lock eyes with the guy who long ago declared he was sick of my shit. “My office, now.”
“Goddammit, Arch.” Fletch angrily pegs my pen right back. “You just couldn’t shut your mouth, huh?”
Fuckkkkk.
I draw a deep breath and hold the air in my lungs as I push up from my chair, then I cast a feral glare past the smug Special Agent Drake Banks, the bastard who knew my family before I became the man I am today. The badge who stood by and watched five boys exist in Hell, while he subscribed to the ‘I’m just following orders’ party line most soft-cock Feds enjoy so much.
Straightening my spine and widening my shoulders, I turn towardLieutenant Fabian’s cramped office and wonder what I’m being called in for today.
Is it because I spent the weekend with the fuckin’ mob?
Is it because of my wife’s recent promotion to one of New York’s top-level organization members, even though she doesn’t want to be?
Maybe he heard about our marital troubles last week, and after a little digging, realized they were because she murdered a motherfucker in cold blood. And I, her loving husband, didn’t get mad about the fact she’s a killer, but because I have an irrational fear she might die.
I drag a hand over my face and march toward possible execution—or prison—but at least I do it with my head held high and a modicum of spine. Unlike Bitch Face Banks back there. “Lieutenant Fabian?” I come to a stop just four feet from his office door and meet his hard stare. “What’s up?”
“In.” He steps to the side and allows me to pass, then, following me in, he pulls the door shut with a condemning click. “Female vic has been found dead inside her car just outside the city.” He trudges past me, squeezes through the gap between his desk and the wall, then sits and gestures toward the one on my left.
I sit.
“Hikers called it in, then they contaminated your scene by puking an entire week’s worth of dinners all over the place.”
Awesome.
“We don’t have a formal ID yet, but a young woman matching her description was reported missing last night, and the car she’s in is registered to her mother. You’ll formalize her identity today, but in the meantime, I’d say we can safely assume.”
“Yes, sir. Uniforms have secured the scene?”
“Yes. Her vehicle was tucked away just off the main road, not invisible to passersby, but not all that exposed either. The scene’s been taped off, and uniforms are moving traffic along. Your hikers are already in the back of an ambulance, and flies have made a mess of the vic. It’s too hot out there for her to sit much longer, so I want you to get moving.”
“I’m on it.” I shove to my feet and swing toward the door.
“Oh, and Malone? Before you go?”
Fuckkkkkkk.
I wrap my hand around the doorknob and swallow the groan rolling desperately along my throat. Twisting, I find him standing, too, his fists pressed to his desk. “Yes, Lieutenant?”