later, and I rubbed my groggy eyes. Squinting at the screen, I read Cass's name on the caller ID, and a harsh chill swept through me.
Just as I pressed answer call, a heavy knock pounded on my front door. I flinched but gritted my teeth and brought the phone to my ear. No doubt Cass was calling about whoever had come to visit.
"Kid," the grumpy gangster rumbled before I even said anything. "You're fine to answer the door. It's just Archer."
I stifled a groan. "Are you watching my door?" I asked instead of the curses I wanted to voice.
"Yes," Cass replied, his voice flat. Then he hung up.
Great.
With a sigh, I tossed my blankets off and climbed out of bed. It was just after midnight, so whatever Archer was here for, it must be important. I just wished it were Kody or Steele instead. At least I enjoyed their presence and wasn't even remotely stabby around them these days.
I took a quick look through the peephole, just to doublecheck, then unlocked all my new bolts and deactivated the door alarm.
"Darling," I greeted Archer with a saccharine smile as I swung the door open, "what an unwanted surprise. What do you want?"
His hands were braced on either side of the doorway, his face tilted toward the ground. At the sound of my voice, though, he lurched forward and probably would have crashed straight into me if I hadn't jumped out of the way. Instead, he just staggered into my apartment and went straight to the kitchen, yanking my fridge open with way too much force.
My jaw dropped.
Across the hall, Cass opened his front door and gave me an amused look—as much as he was capable of.
"Forgot to mention, he seems to be drunk." His gravelly voice sounded surprised. That was nothing on my shock, though.
"Seems to be?" I repeated, squinting at Cass in disbelief.
Cass just gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Never seen Arch properly drunk before. Maybe it's a stroke. You want me to get rid of him?"
I looked over my shoulder. Archer leaned against my kitchen island, chugging the bottle of pinot gris that Bree had left in my fridge. For fuck’s sake.
I blew out a heavy sigh. "No, it's fine. I can handle him."
Cass jerked a nod. "Call me if you change your mind."
"I will," I replied, grateful for the backup. I started to close my door, and he spoke again.
"Don't forget to reset your alarm," he told me with a stern glare, "and kid?"
I rolled my eyes with a smile. "Make good choices?"
Cass huffed something way too close to a laugh to be legit. Probably a tickle in his throat. "I was gonna say, ‘Use protection.’ But that works just the same." With a pointed look, he retreated into his apartment and slammed the door shut.
I closed mine too, locking it and making sure to reactivate the alarm. Then I turned to my unwanted visitor with a scowl.
"What are you doing here, D'Ath?" I demanded, folding my arms over my chest.
He just leveled a glassy-eyed glare back at me. "We need to talk, wifey."
No shit.
30
Archer Infuriating D'Ath made his way over to my sofa and sat down heavily, then took another gulp of wine.
"You just going to stand there all night, Princess? Or are you gonna grow some of those famous Madison Kate balls and have a conversation with me?" His eyes were glazed, and his words held a slight slur, but his focus was laser sharp on me.
Every instinct screamed at me to throw him out on his ass. He didn't fucking deserve my time or my attention. He'd made his bed of lies, now let him sleep in it.
And yet... I found myself glaring back at him as I made my way over to the armchair perpendicular to the sofa he'd selected. If he thought I was going to cuddle up and rub his feet, he was fucking delusional.
For a long time, way past the point of awkward, we just sat there in silence, staring at each other. Except he didn't seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. Not like I was, anyway. I was basically crawling out of my own skin with nervousness.
"You've been avoiding me," Archer said, finally breaking the silence.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad you noticed. You're not as brain-dead as I gave you credit for."
"Why?" he demanded with a small frown line forming between his brows. Fuck me, he was drunk.
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Are you joking? Why do you fucking