Lunatic, page 13
He’d hoped after their make out session last night, Mac would do the right thing and just ignore Archer’s love bombing. But no, the bastard had been silently watching Archer all morning, and it was honestly starting to freak him out. This was the second time he’d made an impromptu declaration to Mac in the span of a week.
If Archer didn’t get it together soon, he was going to start writing sonnets or some shit, and he was already on the brink just worrying about keeping Mac alive. He couldn’t afford to care about him any more than he already did or anybody within a ten-foot radius of him was a dead man walking.
Where the hell did that fall on the psychopathy spectrum? Was this what his brothers had felt when they’d collided with their significant others? Did they feel like all the air was sucked from a room when they appeared? Had they then told them about those feelings? How the fuck had they ever looked them in the eye again?
Archer had done a lot of embarrassing shit to keep his drunken cover in place. He’d stolen things, passed out in public, said and done things that would make people with any sort of moral compass crawl into a hole to never surface again. Hell, he’d seen the inside of a jail cell more times than he could count on both hands, but nothing felt more embarrassing than laying his heart bare to Mac.
That wasn’t normal, right? Why did he feel so exposed?
Fuck.
“Are you going to look at me sometime today, Katniss?” Mac finally asked, sliding from his chair to the one beside Archer.
Archer’s gaze darted upward then back down to his coffee. He took another tentative sip. “I’m not sure yet,” he muttered.
“That’s going to make kissing you difficult,” Mac said, leaning his head on Archer’s shoulder, giving him that same puppy look from earlier. “And I’m kind of addicted to kissing you.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” Archer said grumpily.
Mac grinned, then nosed his way along the column of Archer’s neck. “It’s an us problem. We’re married, remember?”
Archer’s lids fluttered at the feel of Mac’s skin pressed to his. Fuck, why did he have that effect on him almost instantly? Get it together. He forced himself to focus on anything but how Mac’s hand was now traveling up his thigh.
“See, that. That right there is why I don’t want to look at you,” Archer griped, shaking Mac off him to meet his gaze sullenly. “I think I liked it better when you were taunting me all the time. Stop looking at me like you love me and want to…buy me a puppy or something.”
Mac’s lips twitched in an aborted smile. “Do you want me to buy you a puppy, Katniss?”
Archer huffed out a breath, screwing his face into what he hoped was a tough look. “I’m going to punch you in the face.”
Another slow grin spread over Mac’s face, revealing teeth so perfect they had probably bought some dentist a condo in Malibu. “Do it. Just remember, if you fuck up this face, you’re the one stuck looking at it for the rest of your life.”
Archer made a frustrated sound. “Ugh. Stop it. I can’t concentrate with you just spewing your lovey-dovey vibes all over me.”
Mac tipped his head back and laughed. Archer sucked in a breath. He’d never heard Mac laugh like that before—just this sound of pure joy. It set off a feeling low in his belly and made his dick hard. This level of connection wasn’t sustainable. It couldn’t be. How could someone be so invested in another person so quickly? Archer hated it.
Archer made a face. “Just put your heart eyes away.”
“I always had heart eyes for you, Katniss. From the second I found you in that bar. But I’ll put them away…on one condition.”
Archer wanted to kick him. “What’s the condition?”
Mac’s smile slid away, and he gave Archer a look that made him feel like he sat there naked. “You come over here and say good morning properly.”
Archer’s heart fluttered again. “No.”
Another smile spread across Mac’s face. Not the one he’d had a moment ago, but the one Archer had seen a million times when Mac was in full seduction mode. The one he used when he was taunting Archer into giving him what he wanted. “You can say no, but we both know you’ll do whatever I ask.”
Archer’s insides shivered. Even this was Mac giving him exactly what he wanted. “Make me.”
Mac gripped the bottom of Archer’s chair, yanking him close until Mac’s knees parted his. Then, he was suddenly straddling Mac’s hips, his arms locked around Archer’s waist, holding him hostage. “If you insist,” he said, his lips brushing against Archer’s in a barely-there kiss.
Archer clutched the back of the chair as Mac’s tongue teased at the seam of his lips. When Archer chased his mouth, Mac retreated. “You sure, Katniss?” he teased. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t like.”
Archer grabbed Mac’s chin, then tilted his head, crashing their mouths together like he wanted, groaning when Mac’s hands squeezed his ass and pulled him close until their hips collided. Fuck, that felt good. Good enough for Archer to get lost in the way Mac’s tongue explored his mouth while his hands explored the rest of him.
When Mac tore his mouth away to drag his lips from the dip in Archer’s throat to his chin, Archer let him, rolling his hips against the hard length of Mac’s cock, which was blatantly straining against his zipper.
They were like fucking high schoolers. Before Archer’s most recent trip to the Watch, all their previous encounters had always had a very singular focus. Get in. Get off. Get out. Sure, they’d exchanged hand jobs, blow jobs, and all manner of things, but it was all with the goal of getting off as fast as possible so that Archer could run away. They’d never just enjoyed each other’s bodies without the goal of orgasm.
It felt like they were making up for lost time, learning to explore each other knowing there was no real rush. It was a wholly new experience for Archer who’d never been close to anybody. Not even his family.
It was a testament to Mac’s skills that it took far longer than necessary for the ringing phone to penetrate the fog of Archer’s lust. He pulled away to grab his phone off the table, but that didn’t stop Mac from his explorations, his hands sliding up under Archer’s henley, his teeth nipping Archer’s throat in a way he knew would have his brothers mocking the marks on his neck later.
Calliope. Archer swiped to answer just as Mac’s tongue found the shell of his ear. “What’s up?” he asked, a little breathless.
“I’m assuming Mac is…with you?” Calliope asked, sounding amused.
Archer’s breath hitched as Mac’s hand traveled up his thigh to trail his thumb along the outline of his cock. “Where else would he be?”
“I need to speak with him,” Calliope said, her tone sharpening at Archer’s impatience.
He tried to push Mac’s hand away, but he persisted, palming him with intention, temporarily making Archer forget all about Calliope until she cleared her throat loudly.
Archer sighed loudly. “If you wanted to talk to him, why didn’t you just call him?”
“I did. He didn’t answer, grumpy pants,” Calliope fired back.
Mac pointed to his phone, which appeared to be charging on the kitchen counter across the room. Archer rolled his eyes, then hit the speaker and dropped the phone onto the table. “There. Now, you’ve got both of us. What’d you find?”
“I’m going to assume your attitude problem has to do with me interrupting you on your honeymoon and ignore it,” she said. “As for what I found? Some answers. But more questions, honestly.”
“What does that mean?” Mac asked, voice distant as his other thumb trailed along Archer’s bottom lip, his heated look making warmth pool low in Archer’s belly.
“These guys are idiots,” she said. “I have no idea how the IRS hasn’t caught up with them. They aren’t doing much to hide that they’re definitely up to something shady. They’re blatantly spending far more than they make, installing hundred thousand dollar pools, buying boats, enjoying lavish vacations. But it’s hard to pinpoint where the money is coming from or why. They might be idiots, but whoever is paying them isn’t.”
“So, we don’t know what they’re up to?” Mac asked, his hand pausing on Archer’s crotch.
Calliope sighed. “I can tell you the funds are coming from someone well insulated behind shell companies. And that these same companies, which are paying these men as consultants, are also shoveling a ton of money into the campaigns of some very fringe extremist politicians. But I can’t tell you who they are. Yet.”
“But we have no evidence suggesting that these companies have anything to do with why they’re trying to take me out?” Mac asked. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence?”
“I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty that it’s linked, but if I was betting on it, I’d put my money on them being connected. Speaking of, we have some bad news.”
“What does that mean?” Archer asked.
“Well, your impromptu wedding seems to have spooked them. I found Mac’s contract on the darknet. I flagged it so it would alert me whenever there was any interaction on the post. This morning, I got a ping. They’ve doubled the contract to six figures. I’m assuming it’s because Mac is now a Mulvaney. Elevated risk. Elevated reward. You know what this means?”
Mac grimaced. “That amateur hour is over. This is going to bring in a much higher caliber of pros.”
“Fucking awesome,” Archer muttered.
Marrying Mac had just made him an even bigger target. The Mulvaney name was meant to protect him, not make things worse.
Mac squeezed Archer against him tighter, forcing him to adjust his position on his lap. Mac didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll be fine. I can handle myself,” he said. “What else can you tell us about the men in the park? If we can figure out how they’re all connected, maybe we have a shot at figuring out who’s holding the contract. Just because these guys can drop a hundred K on a pool doesn’t mean they could pay out a six-figure hit undetected. There’s gotta be someone else calling the shots, no?”
Calliope didn’t acknowledge Mac’s question. Maybe it was rhetorical? “Here’s what I have. Eric Rapke, attorney-at-law, graduated top of his class from an ivy league school, could have gone and practiced law anywhere but set up shop in the middle of a Texas border town after marrying Desiree McNamara, a former Texas beauty queen turned religious zealot, who runs one of those charities where people go overseas to minister to people who don’t want them there. I’ll give you three guesses who her stepbrother is.”
“The militant preacher who tried to shoot Mac?” Archer asked.
“Ding. Ding. Ding,” Calliope said without enthusiasm.
“So, Ronald Egan and Eric Rapke know each other through the wife. How does the border patrol guy—Dunegan—fit into the puzzle?” Mac asked.
There was a sound like a chair squeaking, then Calliope said, “Dunegan is also connected to Rapke through the wife. She and Dunegan are childhood besties.”
“So, we should be looking at the wife, then. Could she be the one siphoning money through her charity?” Mac asked.
“Here’s the thing. Desiree McNamara-Rapke is Texas royalty. She’s an heiress and a Texas debutante. She has access to enough money to finance a hit and probably plenty of money to send to extremist lunatics, but so far, all the numbers check out for her charity. She takes a rather generous salary for herself, but other than that—on paper—she and her husband look like squeaky clean pillars of the community.”
“You think she’s innocent?” Archer asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
“No, not by a fucking long shot,” Calliope said. “I think they’re all as dirty as the clothes marinating in Dimitri’s gym bag.”
“Dimitri?” Mac mouthed.
“Her son,” Archer mouthed back.
Mac nodded, looking like he was attempting to absorb that information.
Calliope continued, unaware of their side conversation. “But that doesn’t mean proving it is going to be easy. And there’s no guarantee that whatever is happening ends with her. But until we know what’s happening, we can’t know who’s involved. I can keep digging but I think we need to handle this with kid gloves?”
“So, what’s our next move?” Mac finally asked.
Archer leaned towards the phone. “I say we kidnap the weakest link and torture them until they tell us what we want to know.”
“What part of kid gloves do you not understand?” Calliope asked. “These aren’t repeat offender scumbags that people won’t miss. Her father is a prominent figure in the community. If something happens to someone in her inner circle, it’s going to make the papers and they’re going to know we’re onto them. That’s going to send them into a panic and they’ll go for Mac even harder.”
In any other instance, Archer’s response would have been, “Good” or “Who cares.” Any chance to push the target into making a mistake was usually fine with him. But Archer had already fucked up once. That last guy had been a hair’s breadth away from putting a bullet in Mac’s head. He’d been standing over him, finger on the trigger. And he’d been bad at his job. Six-figure contracts were going to bring in career problem solvers. Paid assassins. They wouldn’t be sloppy.
Archer wouldn’t risk it. He just wouldn’t.
He gave a low growl. “We need to get close to these guys. Check out this church. Check out this charity. Get someone into that law firm if need be. They came for Mac in Vegas, and with the new bounty, we have to assume they know about our wedding. Which means we’re both burned. They’ll spot us a mile away. Shit.”
“Likely. The two of you weren’t exactly subtle,” Calliope chided. “It was probably better when they assumed Archer married Shep.”
Mac’s eyes lit up. “Maybe that’s what we need to do now.”
“You want me to divorce you and marry your already married brother?” Archer deadpanned.
Mac rolled his eyes. “No. Let’s get Elijah and Shep down here. They can run subterfuge. Elijah comes with his own security team, so they’re safe. But if people see me, they might assume it’s Shep, and while there might be photos, no pro is going to risk taking out the husband of an A-list celebrity by accident.”
“Until you’re seen with me,” Archer reminded him. “Then they’ll know who you are and kill you on sight.”
Mac deflated back against the chair. “What’s your suggestion? Do you have a better idea?”
Archer clenched his teeth until his jaw ached before finally saying, “Better? No. Safer? Only marginally.”
“What’s your plan?” Calliope asked.
Archer sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I need my brothers.”
“Your brothers?” Mac asked.
Archer nodded. “Yeah. Someone is going to have to investigate, and if we’re right about why the hit on you has suddenly gone up, you and I are too visible.”
“Your father is Thomas Mulvaney. All of you are high profile,” Mac said.
Archer shook his head. “Yeah, but my father does business here in Texas all the time. If, by some chance, someone does recognize one of my brothers, it’s unlikely they’ll put two and two together before we get the info we need. Who’s available, Calliope?”
“Immediately?” Calliope asked, hedging.
Archer’s brows knitted together. “Obviously,” he said, tone pissy.
They listened as Calliope’s nails hammered away at her keyboard for a solid two minutes before she finally said, “Maybe we should just go with Mac’s plan.”
Archer rolled his eyes. “What? Why? They can’t all be too busy. They’re just slacking off.”
Calliope sighed. “They’re not all busy, no. You can have Adam…and Noah.”
Archer froze. Noah. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What was he going to do about that?
“Can’t I just have Adam?” Archer asked.
Calliope cleared her throat delicately. “Adam said, and I quote, ‘Fuck him. I’ll help him when he fixes what he broke. Until then, he can eat a bag of dicks’. So, no, Sunshine. You can’t just have Adam.”
“Any chance Noah’s realized it’s nothing personal and has decided to forgive and forget?” Archer asked hopefully.
Calliope snorted. “Fucking hardly.”
“What about Aiden? He’s practically a hermit. How busy can he be? Get him out here,” Archer said.
Mac gave him a stern look that made Archer feel like a little boy. “Just talk to him, Katniss. You owe him an apology.”
“Mac’s right. I get why you lied to them. Well, not really, but I get that you thought you had your reasons, but you know how Noah is. You broke his heart. If you don’t fix this, Adam’s going to carve yours out with a rusty spoon. You know how he gets when Noah is even mildly inconvenienced. This is far worse than that.”
“But why, though? Why is he so upset?” Archer asked, genuinely confused.
“It's a good thing you’re pretty, Buttercup, because you’re so dense sometimes,” Calliope said. “This family is Noah’s only safe space. He thought he finally found people who liked him, respected him, trusted him with all their secrets. How many times has he taken care of you when he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself, no questions asked? Imagine learning all those times you were faking it? He feels stupid. Humiliated. Like you were pranking him. He’s not like your brothers, you know that. You’ve taken advantage of that.”
Had he? Had he taken advantage of Noah? Archer racked his brain. Sure, he spent the most time with Adam and Noah. They were the most available. Up until the twins got married, they were always traveling either for work or for…wet work. Aiden was always gone, and Atticus and August were all about their work. Adam and Noah had always been willing to hang out, go out, or just spend time with him.
Why had Archer sought them out when he was home? Because being with them pretending to drink was better than being alone. And Archer hated being alone with his thoughts. While he lacked the ability to fully feel things like guilt or empathy, he was no stranger to one feeling: self-loathing.
