Karma's a Bit*h Page 7

  “It happens all the time.” Marri patted my hand. “You should read my Twitter feed sometime.”

  I stared at the ceiling. Marri had hung scarves and fairy lights in an effort to disguise the stains. “I really liked it,” I whispered. “I felt safe and…I don’t know.” I thought about being in his arms. “Cared for.”

  Marri’s fingers gripped mine. “Don’t project, Jakey.”

  “Project what?” I turned to see her, but she stared at the ceiling.

  “You know,” she stated. “Your emotions and issues about your past. You’ll project it onto Karmaman or expect him to fix it. It’s not his fault or his responsibility.”

  I wanted to curse her, yell, stomp out, but I took a deep breath and let the feelings swirl around, then dissipate. “I know, you’re right. I hate you for it, but you’re right.”

  “Good. Because you deserve to be happy.”

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  “Oh, I know I do. I work hard every day to make my dreams come true.”

  “Since when are you a psychologist?”

  “Only for you, bish. I take payment in lattes and coming to my plays.”

  I searched for the right words. “It’s just that I have a lot of knots in my past. I’d hate to put Archer through the task of unraveling them.”

  “The right one will want to untangle those strings and tie them around his heart.”

  I smiled at her analogy. “You can’t fool me, Mar. You’re a closet romantic.”

  “Maybe,” she said around a yawn. “But I’m also a realist. If you want a knight in shining armor to save you, honey, you have to remember, he might need you to save him right back.”

  Archer

  Something was bugging me like a gnat that didn’t have the decency to die. Something was wrong, but I’d been so distracted by my hot nerd, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  Retracing my steps, I went to the gym, the bedroom, then returned to the kitchen. That was when I saw it. The lock on the fire escape window was open. This was New York—a decent neighborhood, granted, but still New York. I never left anything unlocked. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten.

  I opened the window to the narrow fire escape. No obvious clues. I shut it, locked it, then jogged to my office. I had three security cameras. One in the hallway to see my front door, one in the living room, and one in the office. Powering on my Mac, I pulled up the feed and zipped through rewind.

  Brett. Shit. It looked like he’d tried the front door but couldn’t get in, so he’d tried the fire escape. Well, clearly, I needed a camera out there as well. And maybe one of those sensors that alerted me on my phone when someone broke in.

  I watched as he searched drawers, tried to get into my computer and failed. Thank God. He broke the lock on the filing cabinet in the office closet and stood reading for several minutes.

  Double shit.

  Jake’s personal information was in there. His address, phone number, social security number. Taking a deep breath, I tried to organize my thoughts. Okay, so clearly Brett hadn’t taken my intimidation seriously. He’d dropped the charges but had his own plan in mind.

  If Jake wasn’t with me, I’d be fine with it. Game on, fucker. But Jake wouldn’t appreciate this at all. My stomach clenched. I’d have to tell him. He’d leave me. I squeezed my eyes closed as I thought about what I was doing, then I picked up my cell.

  “Detective Porter.”

  “Hey! There’s my favorite NYP—”

  “What’d’ya want, Archie?”

  I scowled. “Can’t I call to say hi?”

  “You could, but you never do.”

  Bracing myself, I blurted out, “I think I fucked up.”

  Silence. Then, “Nooo. You?”

  I ignored the sarcasm. “You know the Camaro guy?”

  “Uh-huh.” Greg’s tone dropped with a hint of suspicion.

  “I think he might be looking for a little payback of the nonlegal variety.”

  Greg was quiet again. “Meet me at Sal’s at two.” He hung up.

  I futzed around until it was time to go, then shoved my feet into boots and ran out the door before I could think too hard about what I was doing. Greg was a cop. A cop.

  I jogged a few blocks until Sal’s Pizza came into view. I slowed my steps and caught my breath, so I wouldn’t be winded going in. Greg sat in the middle of the place in one of the old, cracked booths, sipping orange soda and contemplating a pile of garlic knots on the table.

  “Hey, man.” I slid into the booth, my jacket catching on a tear covered in duct tape.

  Greg’s tongue pushed his lips around, and he sucked on a tooth with a loud tsk. “Archie. How’s Phoenix?”

  “I think I’m giving him an ulcer.”

  Greg’s mouth pinched. “He’s not the only one.” He lifted an arm over the back of the booth, revealing his toned body, and his gun and badge strapped to his belt. “So, what happened?”

  Guilt tried to wiggle in under my sternum, but I pushed it down into my stomach where it belonged. “Say, hypothetically—”

  Greg groaned. “Nothing good ever starts with those words.”

  “Hypothetically,” I continued. “Let’s say I wasn’t really dating Brett. Maybe I was friends with his ex, and that ex was looking for a little karma, so I did him a favor.”

  Greg’s cop stare never left my face. “Well, then, hypothetically, you and your friend would be in a shitload of trouble. Even more than you were when you lubed up his car.”

  A snort escaped, and I coughed to cover it. “Define ‘shitload.’ ”

  Greg leaned forward. “Premeditation.”

  I mimicked him. “Isn’t that for murder?”

  “Intent to harm.”

  “A car?”

  “Aggravated vandalism.”

  “Now you’re just making shit up.”

  Greg’s rugged face split into a grin. “Of course, this all hypothetical, and without any evidence, Mr. Whatshisname doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”

  “What if I have evidence of a crime he committed?”

  “If you have evidence, and he doesn’t…” Greg let his sentence dangle with a raised hand. He narrowed his eyes. “What does Phoenix have to say about all this?”

  “You’re awfully fixated on my brother, Porter.” Greg shrugged but gave nothing away. Damn poker face. “I haven’t said anything to him about it.”

  “Good. Don’t. Your brother has enough to worry about.”

  A fissure of unease racked my spine. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing in particular. But with a little brother like you, I wouldn’t be surprised if he does have an ulcer.”

  I glared, but I didn’t have enough to call him out on his bullshit. “So, what should I do about Brett?”

  Greg shrugged once more. “Tell him you have evidence of his crime and to leave you alone or you’ll use it. Tell him if he does, he’ll never see or hear from you again, and you can both move on with your lives.”

  I thought about it. “Shouldn’t you be advising me to do this at the police station, through legal channels?”

  Greg sighed and glanced around Sal’s. It was late for lunch, so it was quiet, but he still lowered his voice. “I’m a cop. My father was a cop, my brother—you get the idea. But it’s all politics and bureaucratic bullshit, Archie.” He pushed the now cold food away. “I arrested a guy last month for rape. You know where he is now?” I shook my head. “At his desk, in his office, on Wall Street. You wanna know why?”

  “I can guess,” I murmured.

  Greg’s thousand-yard stare worried me. “He’s the younger brother of Feiffer International’s CEO, who happens to belong to the same country club as the mayor.”

  I cursed under my breath. “I’m sorry, man. It’s not right.”

  “That poor woman didn’t get justice.” Greg took out his wallet and threw some cash on the table. “That’s why I became a cop. To get justice for those who couldn’t.” He stood, and I
could see right up his nostrils. “Archie, whatever it is you’re doing, just do me and your brother a favor…don’t get caught.” He clapped my shoulder and left.

  I sat and stared out at the street until a server stopped at the table.

  “You need anything else, hon?”

  I rose and gave her a tip. “I think I know what I need.” I left in the wake of her confused frown.

  Chapter 11

  Jake

  Something wasn’t right. Archer was twitchy, heels and fingers tapping on any surface they could find. He paced, he mumbled, he swore at his phone.

  “Okay.” I swiveled the chair. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I’d come in after class and gotten to work tracking down Brian’s second lady friend, Amy. I wasn’t gaining much headway, and Archer’s restlessness wasn’t helping. The man was distracting enough on a good day.

  “Um…” Archer stopped and faced me, fingers tapping on his thigh. He searched for words that I couldn’t imagine. “You know how I told you about the consequences of doing what I do?”

  “You don’t want your karma to hurt other people, just the marks.”

  “Right. And I am fully prepared to take some of the heat. Not you. Just me.”

  I frowned. “Well, I—”

  “So,” he interrupted, “every now and then—rarely, very rarely—one of my marks, decides to…” Archer waffled, grimacing. “Turn things around on me.”

  I gasped. “What?” I stood and rushed to him. “Are you okay? Who is it?”

  “Funny story.” Archer swallowed, face ruddy. “It’s Brett.”

  “How is that funny? Brett. Brett?” I tried to place it. “Camaro oil, Brett?”

  Archer tucked his hands into his pockets. “You’re cute when you scrunch your nose like that.”

  My heart thumped. “Don’t distract me.”

  “Sorry. Yes, Camaro guy. When my brother came over, he told me Brett dropped the charges. That happens a lot,” Archer explained. “People get upset in the heat of the moment, but then they realize they don’t want to waste their time and money on court appearances and legal fees, so they drop it.”

  My eyes widened. “Brett doesn’t want you to go to jail or pay fees, he wants his own revenge.” I stepped back until I fell onto the small love seat tucked against the wall. “What’s he done?”

  Archer was quick to sit beside me. He scooped up my hand. “Nothing much yet. He was in here, though…snooping.”

  “Like you do?”

  Archer deflated. “Yeah…”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, you’re right. He was doing what I do to people, though I don’t break into people’s homes.” He paused. “Well, not always.”

  My ears rang, and I put my head between my knees. “How do you know?”

  “What was that?”

  I raised my chin. “How do you know he was in here?”

  “I have security cameras.”

  “Oh. Inside?”

  “Yeah. The living room and office. But they’re only on when no one’s here. I only had them on when you were in here alone for the first couple of days.”

  I straightened by a few degrees to see if my ears were still ringing. “How did he break in?”

  “He came in through the fire escape. I’d opened the window to air out the kitchen when I burned some toast, and I forgot to relock it.” He scowled. “A mistake I will not be repeating.”

  “So, what do we do? Call the cops?”

  Archer cringed. “I’m not exactly sure what he found out.”

  “You’re afraid he has dirt on you now.”

  Archer sighed. And there went his long fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. I tugged one hand onto my lap and held it.

  “I am afraid of that, yeah, but if it was just me, I wouldn’t care too much. I’d confront him.” Archer gripped my hand hard. “But I’m scared he knows about you.”

  “Oh.” I sank into the cushions. “I didn’t think about that.”

  Archer gave me a small smile. “I did. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.” I squeezed his fingers, skin warm against mine. I remembered Julie’s email and straightened my shoulders. I believed in Archer. “So, what do we do?”

  “I want you to know I talked to that detective friend of mine.”

  I jerked. “You did?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t exactly spell out what it is I do, but he’s a smart guy. And I didn’t want something to happen to you if I could’ve prevented it.”

  A bloom of warmth spread out from my chest. “What did he say?”

  “Well, here’s where it gets interesting.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Archer grinned. “He—in a roundabout way—basically told me to do what I had to do and not get caught. He kind of gave me his approval.”

  Dumbfounded, I froze in my seat. “A cop? A cop gave you his blessing to punish people outside the law?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Is he dirty?”

  Archer scowled. “No!”

  “Sorry! I just…I can’t believe it.”

  “Me either. But he has his reasons.” A shadow passed over Archer’s face, and I rubbed my thumb in circles on the back of his hand. “Listen, if anything happens and you need help, his name is Greg Porter. He’s at the ninth precinct.”

  “Greg Porter, ninth precinct,” I repeated. “I’ll remember. But nothing’s going to happen.”

  Archer’s lips lifted in a hopeful smile. “You believe that?”

  “Sure. With my help, we can take care of this guy in no time.”

  The worry disappeared from Archer’s eyes, and they crinkled with joy. “All right. Game on.” He let out a huge breath and relaxed into the cushions. “I was so worried you’d storm out, and I’d never see you again.”

  “I won’t do that.” I braced my shoulder on the couch cushion. I leaned in, close enough to kiss if we wanted to. I really wanted to. But I didn’t want to keep circling around the right and wrong of it all. My brain was exhausted.

  “You won’t?”

  “No way. I like it here. I like being here with you.” I swallowed the lump that had suddenly grown in my throat. “I like you.”

  Archer’s sweet smile peeked out. “I like you, too.” He tugged on a wayward lock of my hair, leaned closer, and licked his lips.

  I rushed forward and our mouths collided. Archer’s breath stuttered on a laugh, but he pressed into me and locked his lips over mine. His tongue was in my mouth before I could fully appreciate the shape of his lips, and I moaned louder than I’d intended.

  His fingers slid up my neck into my hair, tugging on the strands, and I shivered. My arms wrapped around him, and he took it as an invitation to press me harder into the cushions. Damn love seat was too small. I shifted my hips, and his hard-on pressed into my thigh.

  “Fuck.” Archer pressed harder.

  I grunted and shoved my erection at his, and we dry humped until the rough material of my boxer briefs and jeans was too much.

  I tore my mouth from his. “Archer, I can’t. I need—”

  “I know. Me too.” He planted one foot on the floor and lifted off me.

  I whined pathetically, but I didn’t care. He smiled, reached behind his head, and pulled his shirt off. I was too busy ogling his bare chest to realize he’d unzipped and taken out his cock. I looked down and swore a little drool came out. He was gorgeous. Smooth, pink flesh stretched over at least seven inches with a mushroom head. When he reached for me, I hurried to undo my pants.

  “Damn, Jake. That is a serious piece of equipment.”

  I blushed and grabbed Archer’s shaft, and his eyes went dark.

  “Jake.” He tilted his hips forward and aligned our cocks.

  My hand was in the way, so I let go and gripped us both in my fist. Archer groaned, took a deep breath, and began to move. He thrust, his hot flesh catching and sliding against my skin.

  “W
ait,” I said. Archer stopped, and I spit on my palm, then resumed my hold. “Okay.”

  “Fuck, that was hot.”

  Archer used his arms as leverage to move, so it was up to me to touch him. With my free hand, I tugged on his hair, slid my fingers down to his nape, and pulled him into a wet kiss. His nose knocked into my glasses, but I ignored it. His body heat scorched me, and his breathing became labored. His muscles moved under all that beautiful skin. I was like a man standing in front of a dancing cobra, mesmerized by the awe-inspiring beauty before me, but one wrong move and it could all be over. I didn’t want that. I dug my fingers harder into Archer. I didn’t want him to bite me or disappear. I didn’t want to run away from him.

  “Hey, look at me.”

  I opened my eyes to see Archer’s glittering gaze on me. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Want to go slower?”

  I shook my head. “I’m close,” I murmured.

  “Come,” he breathed.

  I made that whiny noise again—one I’d never made until today—and shuddered. I tried to hold on, but Archer lifted my shirt and sucked a nipple into his mouth. I stiffened and shouted out my release. I’d had no idea my nipples were a hot button. I was learning all kinds of things about myself with Archer.

  Speaking of…I blinked at his cocky smile and he chuckled.

  “Your glasses are crooked.” I went to straighten them, but he did it for me. “You are unbelievably hot when you come.”

  “Oh.” My face was already flushed from the orgasm of the century, but it got even warmer. “You haven’t…”

  “I will.” Archer glanced at our cocks. “On you?”

  He peered out from underneath his lashes, and I melted.

  “Wherever you want.” My earlier panic had subsided, and I felt a little silly.

  Archer grinned his “Gotcha” grin, and I died. Right there on the love seat. Dead. He’d killed me. Again.

  Archer lifted his torso, then shuffled toward my face. I raised my brows and bit my lip.

  “You gotta stop being so cute,” Archer said with a hint of desperation.

  “I’m not—” I lost what I was saying as Archer gathered my come and used it to slide his fist over his straining cock.