“And he’ll enjoy having his own floor. He’ll take his privacy when he wants it, and badger you when he doesn’t. You ready to go downstairs?”
She slides under my arm in lieu of speaking, hooking her hand on my hip and slipping her thumb under my shirt until she touches bare skin. And then she starts forward. “Cordoza told me about the girls. Said Agosti was mid-job, transporting these women through the city. Now you’ve caught the case.”
“Mmm.” I swing our bedroom door open and continue into the hall. “I was gonna give you an update once we’d settled in.”
“Are any of them dead?” Her voice takes on a soft rasp; her intolerance for what Agosti did, audible. “Calling homicide implies?—”
“They’re alive.” I drape my arm across her shoulders, dangling my fingers so they bounce as we move onto the stairs. “They’re weak. Terrified.A lot of them are skin and bones, criminally underfed, and if any of them speak fluent English, they’ve yet to prove it.”
I hate telling her about them. I hate even more that she’ll internalize every word I share, stoking the flames in her belly and angering her toward an already dead man. But she’s already involved. She already knows more than I’d like; attempting to shield her now will only piss her off and force her to source her information elsewhere. “I figured I could update everyone at the same time.” I drag her closer and kiss her temple. “I smell food in the air, Minnnnka. Someone is cooking, so why don’t we eat and talk? That way, I don’t have to repeat myself?”
She leans heavily against my side, stumbling on every third step because of where our feet land. But I don’t mind carrying more than my share, and her eyes flash with playfulness every time she tempts fate and risks a broken neck. “Smells like lasagna, right? Am I imagining that?”
I sniff the air and search for something, anything, that isn’ther. “I concur. I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume Mary is cooking for everyone, at least while Felix is here.”
“Who will cook for him when he returns to New York?” She snickers, unbothered by the knowledge that she stole the second most important woman in his life. “He’ll have to do it all himself.”
“He’ll hire someone to take care of it all.”
“Micah will.”
I snort. “Right.Micahwill hire someone for as long as we have her.”
“Oh! And speaking of Micah.” She glances down the stairs, twisting to get a peek as far down as she can manage. Then she brings her eyes back to me, widened with secrecy. “Why do you think he brought the feds?”
“What?”
“Roscoe,” she whisper-hisses. “It’s no secret he’s not a fan of the Malones. He tolerates Micah because of Tiia. He tolerates Felix because he has no other choice.”
“And it’s a widely known fact federal agents are, without exception, snitch bitches who lack decent personalities and redeemable qualities.”
She giggles. It’s like we’re telling fun little secrets, gossiping about some other kid in class. “You left New York and became a cop. So it’s not like you have a problem with the law in general. But you draw the line at federal employees?”
“Notallfederal employees. I like park rangers. And air traffic controllers.” I chuckle. “Tax agents are okay, I suppose. And I’ve never met a shitty librarian.”
Her chest and shoulders shake with muted laughter, though she tries to hide it by sipping her soda.
“Federal agents snuck into my home when I was a child, planting cameras and listening devices all over the place. They knew we were living in hell. They knew women were dying and sons were being farmed for my father’s amusement. And they still prioritized their case over what was right.” I don’t allow myself to fall into the rage anymore. I don’t let it hurt me the way I know it hurts my brothers. But I remember, and I save my disdain for Special Agent Fuckface Banks. “When I work, I want to close a case. It matters to me that my solve rate is high and my lieutenant pats me on the back. But to value the outcome of a case over the well-being of a child?” I lead her around the final landing and down until our feet touch cold tile. “I’m a bit like you, I suppose.”
“Me?”
“Mmm. I believe in justice and respecting the law. But I believe in what’srightmore. What’s fair. And those two things aren’t always the same. They don’t always align with what the courts decide. Or what other cops decide.”
“Like with Laramie Fentone?”
The guy you fucking killed?“Maybe that’s why I could move past it. The law matters to me, but if I have to destroy my case to save an innocent, then that’s what I’ll do. If I lose my job because Fabian learns of the gray area in my belief system, then so be it. I do the job because I want to right some of the wrongs that came before me. I enjoy my position of power and my ability to help someone in their worst moments. But if it all falls apart…” I shrug.
“You didn’t answer my question about Roscoe, though.” She lowers her voice as we turn from the stairs and head toward the kitchen. “He didn’t have to come to a Malone family wedding. It’s nothiswedding. Not even Tiia’s wedding.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of his sister traveling with the mob.” I ignore Cato’s skid past the kitchen doorway and bury my lips in Minka’s hair instead. “You done gossiping yet?”
“I suppose I could ask him myself.” She decides playfully. “Tiia’s a grown woman, and she definitely doesn’t need her brother to escort her across the country when Micah is by her side.” She turns her nose toward the ceiling and sniffs. “Smells so good.”
“You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Agosti was transporting women through Copeland?” Micah sits back at the dining table, his arm laid over the back of Tiia’s chair, and his jaw gritting under the short stubble he’s yet to shave off. He fists a water glass in his right hand, squeezing just tight enough to risk shattering the whole thing. “That motherfucker was traveling with Cordoza, a guest in this city, and he thought he could disrespect usandCordoza by working?”
