I am the vigilante.
“Every time I turn around,” Aubree continues, ignorant to my swirling thoughts, “something new pops up that reminds me of what happened. Of what he is. Who he is.”
“He’s just Tim.” I angle my body away from Archer and stare out into the darkness. Stars light the sky, and my breath fogs the glass just enough to tempt me to write in it. “No matter what he said or didn’t say, no matter his last name and the role his family wants him to fulfill, he’s still just Tim.”And I’m still me.“It wasn’t all that long ago he was your friend, right? So when things start to feel heavy, maybe you just have to remind yourself that you once loved him. And maybe that love has to be enough.”
“So youwantme to forgive him?”
I want her to forgivemewhen she eventually finds out who I am.WhatI am.
“I want you to be okay,” I tell her instead. “Whatever that means for you. Whatever that looks like. I want you to be happy and okay.”
“We’re near your apartment.” Archer reaches across and sets his hand on my thigh. “Mayet? Hang up so we can call Fletch.”
“Yeah.” Ridiculously, a croak stops in my throat and makes Archer’s brows rise in question. “Um…” Coughing to clear the blockage, I bring my attention back to Aubree. “I’m hanging up now so I can call your ride. Stay inside till he arrives. And if you wanted to crash on his couch for the night so you’re not alone, that would be okay too.”
“I’m gonna be fine.” She brushes away my worry as though this is all about Felix. “It’s late, so if Mia’s sleeping and Fletch can’t come out to get me, that’s alright. I can sleep on the couch in your office if I have absolutely no other options.”
“I’ll get you home. Just give me a minute to make the call.”
Hanging up and glancing out the car window to find us parked outside my apartment building, I hold the phone tight enough to make my knuckles white.
“What’s wrong?” Cutting the engine and unsnapping his belt, Archer turns in his seat and reaches across.
I know his shoulder hurts. I know every movement he makes sends bolts of pain through his arm, but still, he takes my chin between his fingers and gently tugs me around until our eyes meet.
“What’s wrong, Minka? Something happened while you were talking to her.”
“She can’t forgive Tim because he lied.” For what may be the first time in my life, tears burn my eyes at the thought of losing a friend. Before Copeland, I simply never kept anyone close enough that it would hurt if they left again. “He was trying to protect her, and still, his lies mean he’s lost her. But me…” My breath hitches, stunning me. “I’m not protecting her with my lies, Archer. I’m protectingme.”
“You can’t tell her.” Scowling, his beautiful green eyes flicker between mine. “Unless you want to go to prison, you can’t tell anyone.”
“Maybe I deserve to be in prison for what I’ve done,” I admit. “I don’t feel bad about the lives I ended, and I’d do it again if I had to. But that doesn’t make the law a flexible line I get to skip across anytime I feel like it.”
“You’re not going to prison. I refuse to let you go.” Leaning in, he presses a close-mouthed kiss to my jaw before pulling back and opening his door.
He snatches the keys and leaves the car in a no parking zone, then crossing to my side, he opens my door and offers his good arm for me to wrap myself around. “We’re married now, for better or for worse. And I’ll be damned if I let you go away without me.”
Leading me past Tim’s bar and toward the glass entrance to my building, he demands, “Call Fletch, then we’re going to bed.”
AUBREE
Idon’t often get to stand in Minka’s office alone. On the rare occasions I do, it’s almost never at night, when the skyline illuminates the entire city and casts glittering lights off the stark white tile under my feet.
Dozens and dozens of mildewy storage boxes take up half of the office at my back, the soft smell of decay permeating the air, so the moisture that leeches from the cardboard floats in the oxygen I inhale. The structure’s presence almost makes me feel like I’m in a makeshift box fort. Like I’m eight years old again and creating a castle with my brothers and sisters to terrorize and overrun.
When Minka told Seraphina to move them somewhere safe and erect a barrier to keep people away, I doubt she thought her office would be where they’d end up. But here they are anyway, stacked eight feet tall and crumbling on the sides so the whole pile threatens to fall.
I stand in front of Minka’s floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city. One arm is wrapped across my middle, the other parallel with my chest as I nibble on my pinkie nail. My stomach swirls with nerves, and my mind zings from thought to thought, desperately searching for silence, but failing to find it as insistent memories batter at my brain.
I think of Felix just outside this building, and the woman he killed only weeks ago. Cruelly, callously ending a life because she no longer served a purpose in his eyes.
I think of our cases: a dead cop, and a woman who may or may not have been suicidal.
I think of Minka: her struggles to let people in, and now, her ability to love Archer. Better yet, her desire to accept and love me, too.
I think of Tim—of course I think of him, he’s always sitting right at the top of my mind—and I think of Fletch and Mia, the crazy dad who was okay with the idea of co-parenting with the woman he once considered his forever. Now, he has his daughter full-time, and a hefty dose of guilt sitting heavy on his heart because he’s the one who put his ex-wife in rehab.
I think of my siblings, and the crazy antics we got up to as a self-appointed gang. From box forts to box carts. From cubbies to clubhouses. We were never a violent group, but we sure were noisy.