Fearless Like Us

by Krista Ritchie

  “Are you two mad at each other?” I ask tentatively, trying not to panic. What the fuck happened?

  24

  BANKS MORETTI

  “We’re not fighting, Sul,” Akara says while glaring out the windshield. “I think Banks and I are on the same page on this one.”

  Yeah.

  We were right fuckin’ there. Side by side. Witnessing something at the pool that whiplashed me to the day where we watched as Will Rochester hit on Sulli at the Avondale Club. Good for her, I should’ve thought back then. She has an admirer.

  That wasn’t coursing through my head today.

  I was thinking other things.

  Who is this fuckbag?

  What’s he doing?

  Why isn’t that me?

  I start up Booger with heat in my chest, then I tell Akara, “I’m not Sherlock fucking Holmes, but I swear Ryan Reed just asked our girlfriend out.”

  “Yep.” Akara stews.

  Sulli chokes on shock, then slings herself forward, head between our seats. “What? He just asked me to a work dinner.”

  “To Michelangelo’s.” I tighten a hand on the wheel.

  “Yeah, a pizzeria.”

  Maybe it’s nothing to Sulli, but I couldn’t afford a bill at Michelangelo’s growing up. If that’s the kind of place you shoot the shit with coworkers, then fuck me two ways to sundown, is everyone wasting their paychecks on overpriced, overhyped cardboard?

  Akara flips his phone in his hand. “I don’t like him, Sul.”

  “You don’t like a lot of the guys who interact with me,” Sulli reminds him. “And I don’t think all of them have hit on me.”

  “I like Jack Highland,” Akara defends.

  “You hated him at first,” Sulli retorts.

  He’s digging himself in a hole.

  “What about me?” I ask Sulli. “You think my judgment is clouded by jealousy?”

  Akara shoots me a look. “I thought you were on my side, man.”

  “I am—”

  “Whoa, when did we make sides at all?” Sulli frowns, like she’s being left out.

  I almost smile. Good grief, my heart wants to fly out of my body and kiss hers. “A side that exists is the one where we’re protecting you.”

  Akara rotates to her with suggestive eyes. “And the one where we’re playing with your pussy and tits.”

  Sulli lets out a breathy, “Fuck.” She leans closer to him, and his fingers graze her cheek before he kisses her lips.

  Can’t see much more. I keep my gaze on the road.

  Akara settles back in his seat. “And Banks is just as jealous as me, don’t let him fudging fool you.”

  I almost crack a smile, but talk of fucking Sulli only makes me more protective. A territorial expression crosses Akara’s face. We’re in a closed triad. It’s not welcome two, come all.

  I glance at him. “The Rodent thinks she’s single.”

  “He’s going to make a move on her tonight,” Akara says tightly.

  “The Rodent?” Sulli makes a face at us. “How long have you been calling my coworker a fucking rodent?”

  “After the first day,” I confess.

  “We don’t like him, Sul,” Akara repeats.

  She leans back, fingers to her lips. “Yeah, you said that already. But just so it’s crystal, the only rodent is the mole leaking our private lives.”

  “Hey, we hate that rodent too,” Akara says lightly.

  Sulli contemplates everything for a long moment. “You really think he was flirting with me? I don’t see that at fucking all.”

  I drive onto the freeway. “No offense, but you could never tell when Akara was flirting with you either.”

  “But he’s Kits.” Confusion scrunches her face.

  Akara grimaces. He’s beating himself up right now. It’s his fault she can’t tell when guys are hitting on her unless they do it with a fucking sledgehammer.

  Sulli draws her legs to her chest. “Coach Reed asked me to go over some swim strategies. If he were asking me out, don’t you think he’d end with, it’s a date?”

  Akara scratches his neck with his phone. “What if we are wrong, Banks?”

  He’s just feeling guilty. In his gut, Akara knows the Rodent wants in our girlfriend’s pants.

  “I’d bet my next paycheck he tries to take her to his place after dinner.” Even saying the words churns my stomach. Imagining his hands on Sulli is actually making me physically nauseous.

  “I’m not taking that bet,” Akara says, adjusting in his seat. Uncomfortable at the scenario too, and he fists his phone tighter.

  “Good, ‘cause I don’t want it to be true.”

  Sulli frowns deeper. “What if he does hit on me at the restaurant? Should I not go?”

  I ask, “What are you leaning towards?” I want her to make up her own mind. Figure out what she wants to do first. It’s not something for us to decide.

  She sits forward again. “I want to respect you two, but I also don’t want to run from what could just be a work meeting because I’m afraid. I think I can fucking handle myself. If he makes a move, I say no.”

  Alright, alright, alright.

  I nod.

  Semper Gumby.

  Always flexible. Ready to repel a rodent if the night turns bad.

  While I drive, Akara turns more towards Sulli. “We’ll be at the restaurant on-duty, so if you’re uncomfortable and want to bail early, just use a code word and we’ll make an excuse for you to leave.”

  “Banana peppers,” Sulli says fast. “No wait, let’s go with something less disgusting.”

  We laugh.

  Akara snaps his fingers. “Spinach.”

  She shoves his arm with a smile. “Kits. I’m being serious.”

  “So mushrooms then.”

  She grabs his hand on the middle console like they’re about to arm-wrestle. “Cinnamon rolls, and you both better remember it.”

  I tell her, “We’d never forget.”

  Sulli begins to smile and the light in her eyes lifts to me. Akara tickles her armpit. She squeals and slugs him hard.

  He winces.

  “Oh fuck, sorry.”

  Akara is about to reply, but my phone rings. I check the Caller ID. Have to take this one. Answering the phone on speaker while I drive, I say, “Hey, Cinderella.”

  Thatcher makes a gruff noise, not in the mood for my jokes. “I’m calling about the leak, Banks.”

  Sulli and Akara go still as they listen in.

  I rotate the wheel. “We’re really doing this now?” I wonder, no desire to dig into our past. Definitely not over the fucking phone.

  “Yeah, we are,” he says sternly. “Someone is leaking private intel about my wife. About your girlfriend. We either do this now or we wait down the fucking line when it’s too late.”

  I stare hard, unblinking. “You’re on speaker. What do you want to know?”

  “Did you ever tell anyone about him?”

  About Sky.

  All I hear are the tires bumping along the freeway.

  “Yeah.” I pause. “I told Sulli and Akara.”

  Thatcher is quiet.

  I wish I could see his face. Is he shocked that I’d rip those words out, recount that night, and say them to someone else when we can barely talk about Sky? Or maybe he’s realizing how much I love her and him. But I end up saying, “You know they wouldn’t leak anything.”

  “I know.” He takes a beat. “I told Ben.”

  My jaw hits the steering wheel. “Ben Cobalt?”

  “Yeah.”

  Thatcher got really close to the family he married into. I’ve tried not to yearn for tight bonds with Sulli’s parents and sister because they love Akara. Loving him doesn’t mean they can’t also love me, but our friends and family keep acting like one of us needs to fall for the other to rise.

  Jokes on them, I’m not falling.

  I want more for my life, and why the hell can’t I be the phoenix? Rising up next to the girl I love.


  I focus more on the road and Thatcher’s admittance. Ben Cobalt knows about Skylar.

  All this time, I thought my brother only ever told Jane. My lip curves upward. Proud of him for being able to open up. Not shocked he’s never confessed this until now. Our heart-to-hearts about Skylar last seconds and end with me pissed off—if they occur at all. Hell, we’re only sharing now because we want to protect everyone.

  “Anyone else?” I ask while I have the chance.

  “I think Farrow and Maximoff know about him, but they never asked me more.”

  My eyes narrow in confusion at the freeway. “How did that happen?”

  “Tony told them back when I was fake-dating Jane. We were at the bingo hall on a double date, and he made a big scene about how they didn’t know my own brother existed.”

  I boil. “I’m glad you never told me because I would’ve knocked him on his fuckin’ ass.”

  “I tried.”

  I nod, believing it. Farrow must’ve stopped him. “So Tony Ramella and his big mouth have been known to spread information we want kept private.”

  “He’s also in the inner-circle.” He’s a Triple Shield bodyguard and protects Connor Cobalt. “But it’d be career suicide. He has no clear motive.”

  “Money, Thatcher,” I say. “That’s motive enough.” Tony is the least selfless bodyguard on the damn roster. He’s in this job so he can boast about protecting celebrities. All arrogance and pride.

  “I’m just trying not to let our dislike of Tony affect our judgment.”

  For fuck’s sake, why is everyone’s judgment being questioned today? We hang up with no real resolution, and I look to Akara, who heard everything. “What do you say, Hardy Boy? Is Tony Ramella a suspect?”

  “He is now.”

  25

  AKARA KITSUWON

  This is definitely a date.

  Sulli almost walks out when we arrive, as she whispers to me and Banks, “Fuck, I’m severely underdressed.” Michelangelo’s Pizza is upscale. White tablecloths kind of upscale. Waiters even splay cloths over their arms and pour sparkling water in wine glasses. An oil-lit candle and single red rose sit on each intimate-sized table.

  Intimate.

  The word burns my retinas.

  Banks frowns at Sulli. “Wait, you didn’t know Michelangelo’s is fancy?”

  “I thought it was a fucking pizzeria,” she whispers pretty loudly. People are looking, and I shoot them glares to stop looking. She wedges herself more between me and him to hide at the entrance. “Like a sports bar with arcade games in the back. Not this.”

  We try to conceal our girlfriend between our bodies. Just until she decides whether she wants to bail or not. Comms hum in my earpiece, no big chatter tonight. Banks and I scan the restaurant from afar, and I tilt my head to him. “You knew Michelangelo’s is fine dining?”

  He lifts his shoulders and whispers, “I thought everyone fucking knew that, including you.”

  I whisper just as heatedly, “There’s practically a thousand pizza joints on this side of town.” I barely pause. “And another thing, Sulli’s wearing jeans and a jean jacket—and you didn’t think she couldn’t have known?”

  “I didn’t think she cared about dressing up,” Banks whisper-hisses. Yeah, we’re hissing under our breaths, both riled up and pissed. More so at the fact that we’re about to chaperone our girlfriend on a formal date with another dude.

  When we haven’t even taken her to a place this ritzy.

  My ego would be more battered if I weren’t concerned. The Rodent is totally unprofessional for asking Sulli to meet him here—and yeah, I might have no room to talk about professionalism, seeing as how I took my client’s virginity, but I’m not in business with Sulli.

  We’re not coworkers.

  And Ryan Reed is her boss.

  The power imbalance is screwy, and I want to whisk Sulli away. Like Banks, though, I recognize she’s struggling with her independence. Rescuing her before a fall is what I’ve done, and I can’t do that as often anymore.

  “No fighting, okay.” She grabs onto our biceps with a loose hold. “I wouldn’t care being undressed, but this is supposed to be for work. Adulting means looking professional, right?” She zeroes in on our wardrobe choice.

  Banks and I opted for the black pants and black button-ups, a staple for security at night. If I’d known that I would fit in more than Sulli, I would have just worn some gym shorts for her.

  She shrinks. “You two are way more experienced at adulting.”

  Banks smiles down at her before hawk-eyeing the space. “We have been adults longer.”

  “Yeah, I am twenty-seven,” I point out.

  “Twenty-nine for me,” Banks says.

  I let out a laugh. I’ll only be a year younger than him soon.

  “I like suits,” I remind Sulli since she sees me in workout clothes more than anything. “You like what you’re wearing. Inhale some confidence, string bean.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” She stands taller, her full six-foot height. “Except about the string bean part.”

  We’re both smiling.

  “Incoming,” Banks whispers.

  The Rodent pushes to the hostess stand, seeing us at the entrance. He must’ve been seated already out of view. He’s wearing a well-tailored, navy blue suit.

  “Sulli, I’m over here,” he smiles and ushers her past the hostess.

  But I come out in front and tell him quietly, “Wherever you’re taking her, we need a table beside your table for security.”

  Under most circumstances, I work this out in advance with the initial reservation. I would’ve called the restaurant, but it slipped under my other obligations.

  Like a three-hour phone call with Connor Cobalt. Trying to stop the leaks and shut down the website is a top priority, but I hate that it’s distracting me from being all there for Sulli.

  I should’ve handed the task off to Banks. He’s here. He’s her permanent bodyguard too. He’s more than competent, but I’m still gripping onto her detail.

  Let go, Nine.

  Let go of work or of her?

  I shake the painful thought, just as the Rodent says, “Uh, sure, yeah.” He pales a little. “I think we can manage another table.”

  “Great.”

  He speaks with the hostess, and after slipping her a…hundred? Banks’ head whips to me. Saw that, I nod to him.

  Sulli didn’t.

  “This way,” the Rodent gestures Sulli to follow.

  She decides not to bail early. Trailing after him, she tells us, “Smells fucking good.”

  He overhears and thinks it’s for him. “The vegan zucchini pistachio-crusted pizza is”—he mimes a chefs kiss—“you’ll love it.”

  I whisper to Banks, “Doubtful.”

  Sulli is cringing at zucchini.

  And no wonder we couldn’t see Ryan Reed from the entrance. A reserved sign adorns a private table for two. In a backroom with even dimmer lighting and crystal chandeliers.

  I’m a little annoyed.

  Okay, a lot annoyed.

  “Stay frosty,” Banks whispers.

  “My eyes aren’t leaving him, trust me.”

  Banks and I settle at our own table for two, only a few feet away. Not in arm’s reach of Sulli but in earshot. And the intimate-sized table looks comically tiny between us.

  We watch as Sulli sits fast, too fast for Ryan Reed to pull out her chair.

  “I didn’t look this place up,” Sulli admits, grabbing the flower vase. She stretches an arm for us to retrieve the red rose. The Rodent looks alarmed at her fast pace, and before I can stand up and take the flower, a nearby waiter swipes the vase from her hand.

  “Thank…you,” Sulli trails off as the waiter disappears. She sets her binder on the table. “I just needed more fucking room.”

  Banks and I share a smile.

  “It’s no problem.” He leans back, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

  She opens the binder. “So I
just thought pizza and figured we’d be at a bar or something.”

  “Would you have rather gone to a bar?” he frowns. “I just thought…you’re you. You probably want the best. Since you are the best.” He flashes a smile.

  Banks casts a cold glare on him.

  My muscles sear. Very quietly, I say, “Why in the fudgesickle is her boss flirting with her?”

  He crosses his arms over his firm chest. “Let me know when I can punch him.”

  We’re not too inconspicuous about glaring. If this guy spots a threat or warning from us, great. He deserves both.

  Sulli shifts in her chair. “We’re already here; it’s fine. Can we just talk about swimming?”

  26

  SULLIVAN MEADOWS

  “We have all night,” Coach Reed says. “Let’s order some apps first.”

  This douchecanoe really isn’t taking any of my hints. I might as well attach stink bombs to them and fling them at his face. “As long as we discuss swimming, I’m game for apps.”

  He gives me a short nod. “Of course.”

  I sit stiffly, hands on my binder. I can get through this situation without help or running away. I need to prove this, mostly to myself. Plus, I’d really like to go over the students’ swim times and strategies. Acing my job means everything to me. I haven’t touched gold in a while, so I want this win.

  Coach Reed removes his suit jacket and fixes the cuffs to his white button-down. “You look great tonight, Sulli.”

  Okay, my boyfriends definitely hit the bullseye. This is a date. Fucking ugh.

  My face scrunches up like someone waved broccoli in front of me. “Coach Reed—”

  The waitress pops in, cutting me off. “Can I start you off with a beverage?”

  While he orders, I steal a glance at Akara and Banks’ table. They’re in earshot of us, and they’re glares could erupt volcanoes. I’m sure they’ve heard him flirting. I am not flirting back. I’m just trying to reroute this train, so that I can talk about swimming.

  Coach Reed peruses the menu. “We’ll do your Cab from Napa.”

  “Oh no, not me.” I wave a hand to the waitress. “Water is fine.”