His eyes burrow into me. “That’s not what I meant.”
Time stops, and the moment crashes into me like a tidal wave.
Husband.
He’s going to be my husband.
I inhale strongly, our exchange a snapshot—so fast but it’ll last forever. I have to move. As I clasp Sulli’s hand and guide my cousin to the bar, Farrow trails next to us, and Banks and Akara aren’t that far behind. They all keep their distance.
Seeing how upset Sulli is.
Respecting her privacy.
Temp bodyguards surround the bar, and Sulli white-knuckles the hanging rope to a swing, a phone in her other fist. Only one theory unspools in my brain.
Someone hurt her.
Someone hurt Sulli.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“No.”
Breath solidifies like cement blocks in my lungs. My face hardens, stoic—I rest a hand on her broad shoulder, and I’m about to speak but our heads swerve.
Beckett approaches, a bright-orange drink in his hand.
“Oh no, you’re not fucking coming over here right now.” Sulli looks offended by his presence. Right before Scotland, Sulli learned about Beckett’s cocaine use, and their close friendship fractured.
According to Charlie, Beckett has kept his word and hasn’t touched cocaine. I’m really proud of my cousin for not using drugs since the trip.
Beckett pauses a foot away. “You looked upset. I just wanted to make sure you’re—”
“I’m fine,” Sulli says heatedly. “I’m fucking fine.”
Their friendship has not been repaired. And I hate that it’s been this ripped apart. But Beckett said some cutting stuff to Sulli that can’t be taken back that fast.
Beckett tries again. “Sul—”
“I don’t want to fucking talk to you,” she snaps, angry tears breaching. She holds up a foamy cup of beer. “I’m pointlessly destroying my body tonight. So you can go fuck off.”
Beckett removes the cigarette that’s tucked behind his ear. “How long are we going to do this?”
“Until I forget how you so casually took a massive shit on our eighteen-year friendship.” Her eyes flame. “Can you go?”
“I’m already leaving.” He pauses, though, and I realize most of our group is drifting towards the bar. He locks eyes with Donnelly.
But instead of approaching his ex-bodyguard like I think he might want to do, Beckett beelines for the girls at the inflatable palm trees.
I can’t fix these broken relationships, as much as I wish I could.
I’m barely able to keep the one I have with Charlie intact.
“What happened?” I ask Sulli with force.
She lifts her phone, still clenched in a fist. “I talked to my boyfriend tonight, and I learned some fucked up shit.”
“Like what?” I hear the heat in my voice.
“I know why Akara’s been so fucking standoffish around me since December.”
This can’t be good.
And out of my peripheral, I see Charlie, squeezing between bodies and trying to make his way down the bar.
To me.
With hot urgency.
Sulli notices too, and I search the crowd and find who I need. “Janie!” I gesture my best friend closer, and the cat-ears on her headband bounce as she trots through the masses.
“Moffy.” Charlie’s already grabbing my elbow. “You need to come with me.” Concern hits his yellow-green eyes, and him seeking me out for help is like an ominous fog descending on the bar.
Janie squeezes in.
“Stay with Sulli?” I ask as Charlie pulls me away.
She nods confidently. “I’ll get you another lemonade too!” She must see me empty-handed, and Jane’s been the best best woman, ensuring that I always have a drink. Even if they’re all nonalcoholic.
Charlie drags me through the crowds, too quickly for temp security to lead out in front. I take a fast glance behind me, but the bar is too congested to spot our off-duty bodyguards.
I suspect Farrow and Oscar probably aren’t too far behind.
Closer to the speakers, a Beach Boys song blasts my eardrums. “What’s going on, Charlie?!” I shout over the music.
He keeps moving but tips his head back so I can hear. “Your sister is here.”
My sister.
It takes a hard millisecond to register that he’s not referring to Luna.
Kinney.
Kinney is here.
My brows cinch. “You sure it’s her?!”
He slips me an annoyed glance. “Black hair. Bangs. Looks at you like she wants to eat your soul.” He puts a cigarette to his lips. “Basically wishes she were my mom.”
Yeah, that’s my little sister. I keep pace with his stride, coming up beside him. No longer having to yell.
Charlie explains, “I passed her when I went to the bathroom.”
My blood boils, mostly concerned she’s alone. We push through the crowds, people stationary like pillars just drinking and chatting.
“Charlie! Charlie!” A girl grabs at his shirt. “Will you sign my clutch?!”
“No.” He shakes her off like she’s a pest.
For some reason, it has the opposite effect. She says a breathy, “I love you.”
Charlie barely blinks. “This way.” His fingers curl around my wrist, and he yanks me to the side emergency exit door.
Shadowed and partially hidden behind drooping beach balls, Kinney loiters alone. Gangly and five-foot-four. She tugs at the lacy black sleeves of her dress, looking lost and way out of her fucking element.
Off the cuff, I can’t remember a time where my sister wasn’t radiating confidence. Seeing her so small punctures my heart.
But my gaze toughens too.
Kinney sees us, and relief washes over her round face. Quickly, she tries to replace that with her blasé attitude. My sister isn’t as good at masking it this time.
“Kinney, what are you doing here?” I ask, and then I notice she’s actually not alone. Her bodyguard leans against a surfboard to her right. He’s a younger guy on SFE. A few other Epsilon bodyguards have been hovering around the bar since Eliot, Tom, Beckett and Ben still use Price’s Triple Shield Services.
I’m on fire, and usually a bodyguard wouldn’t be the target of my red-hot rage. Because they’re not babysitters to my brother and sisters. But this is different.
My parents were fucking clear about the girls not being allowed at this bar. I zero in on him, and Kinney sidesteps to stand between me and him.
“He’s cool, Moffy.” Fuck that.
“Hey!” I yell at the bodyguard, and I keep a hand on my sister’s bony shoulder and gesture him forward.
He takes one step off the surfboard.
“She shouldn’t be here.”
The SFE bodyguard holds up his hands in surrender. “She snuck out herself. I didn’t do anything but follow her.” He’s one of those.
Dammit. I swallow a growl that scrubs my lungs. Anyone else, and maybe I wouldn’t be riddled with frustrated anger, but Kinney likes to think she’s older than she is. She doesn’t need a bodyguard that takes a backseat.
Kinney rocks on her heels. “Satisfied?”
“No,” I say firmly. “You’re going back to the house.”
Her mouth drops, aghast. “The bouncer let me in, but my own brother won’t let me stay. Do you know how rude that is?”
Charlie looks her up and down. “You were five-seconds from crying before I found you.”
Kinney’s head whips to me. “I was not.”
“You’re a bad liar,” he says pointedly. “Don’t say it so desperately next time.”
“Don’t coach her on how to lie, man.” I have to fix this. She’s my responsibility, and if anything happens to her tonight…
Charlie pinches the cigarette, inches from his lips. “It’s not like anyone listens to me. Have you seen Audrey lately? She’s a mess.”
Kinney glares at him. “You know what we cal
l you.”
“Kinney,” I warn.
Charlie mock smiles at my sister. “Something annoying, I presume.”
“Audrey, Vada, Nona, and me—we all call you The Wretch.”
He curtsies.
I’m about to make a decision on the Kinney situation when Farrow and Oscar finally push through and reach us.
25
FARROW KEENE
Maximoff is laser-focused on his little sister. We’ve trekked over to the lantern-lit back corner with wicker furniture. Temp security has created a manmade perimeter, not allowing any strangers through.
Famous ones and bodyguards only.
Basically, it’s a makeshift VIP area, the best we could do in a dive bar. While Kinney is squished between Xander and Luna on the wicker couch, their older stoic, unbending brother watches like he’s their personal bodyguard.
In actuality, I’m his, so I’m standing right next to Maximoff.
“She’s fourteen,” he says under his breath to me.
My lip rises, and I finish off a cup of lukewarm tap water. “You’ve said that seven times already. One more and it won’t be any less true.”
He lets out an irritated noise.
My smile stretches. I pass the cup to my left hand, and I knead his taut traps with my right. He’s tense as fuck, and honestly, I understand why Maximoff isn’t jumping for joy seeing Kinney tonight.
The media has largely dehumanized the famous ones, and they’re easy targets for late-night sloppy dares and pranks.
None of us on security vetted the hundred-plus strangers sipping piña coladas and throwing back Fireball shots at the bar. This isn’t a private event. And as the time ticks past midnight, these random fuckers are turning into drunk fuckers.
Drunk fuckers do stupid shit.
Some prick already tried to pants Eliot Cobalt on the dance floor. He’s unaware since his bodyguard intervened, and I only heard about the incident on comms. Not from Omega, but from SFE.
We all agreed to switch to the same radio frequency while we’re at the same location. The families interact, so all of us on every Force—Alpha, Epsilon, and Omega—still have to work together. It doesn’t matter that we work for different firms.
I’ve even heard from security gossip that Price Kepler isn’t salty about Akara jumping ship and building his own boat. If the rumors are to be believed, Price is viewing the whole situation with the glass half-full. See, Akara’s new company is filled with “liabilities” as someone on Epsilon so delicately put it. Fuckers who got too close to their clients (me and Thatcher) or fuckers who became slightly famous from a Hot Santa Video (almost all of us). In one swoop, Akara cut out the liabilities from Price’s Triple Shield Services.
Even the parents that have been close with Price for two decades—like Ryke Meadows and Daisy Calloway—are trying to be amicable to Akara and his new company. If you ask me, we’re in the “let’s play nice” stage of everything. Until someone screws up. And then I’m sure the lines will be drawn.
Right now, most of the guys on security (including me) are just looking at it like Omega has a different boss than Alpha/Epsilon, and we abide by marginally different rulebooks.
I much prefer Akara’s rules, even though that manual is still four-hundred pages too long.
Maximoff is unblinking. Something’s bothering him.
“You want Kinney to stay longer?” I wonder.
He swigs a lemonade. “I don’t know.” His eyes dart to me, briefly, then back to his sisters and brother. “I think Kinney is more likely to wander and ditch her bodyguard than Xander, and that’s making me…”
“Paranoid?”
He grimaces. “I was going to say, attentive.”
He’s definitely that, and I’d love to tell him to relax and ease him a bit more—it’s his bachelor party—but I have a strong feeling he’d just tell me to do the same.
I’m more or less back on-duty, unofficially.
What can I say? I crave to protect Maximoff Hale more than I crave tequila shots and a four-hour buzz.
He swallows more lemonade. “I thought the first time I’d take her to a club, she’d be eighteen. It’d be a gay bar. We’d have fun.”
He’s mourning this first.
I skim him in a quick sweep. Shit, I love how much he cares about his family. “You were dreaming, wolf scout. Because that girl was never going to wait until she was eighteen.” Nearly every time we see Kinney, she mentions nightclubs and gay bars.
Now that she’s here, she’s been taking it all in and drinking a virgin daiquiri.
“Yeah,” Maximoff says distantly, lost in thought.
I lift his wrist and check the time on his watch. “Your parents should be here in a half hour.” They’re giving Kinney some extra time to spend with her siblings before picking her up.
He nods strongly, but I catch his rising smile, a thought bringing him some sort of happiness.
“What?” I smile, just seeing Maximoff grin like that, and I really wish I were in his brain right now.
He licks lemonade off his lips. “I was just thinking what we’d do if Ripley snuck out to a bar at fourteen.”
My brows spike. I’m surprised he’s letting himself envision that future. But he’s still smiling. “What would we do?” I ask deeply.
He stares off. “I think we’d let our son stay, but only under the condition that we have to hang around him the whole time. And you’d be the kind of dad who’d totally embarrass Rip for being a fourteen-year-old in a bar.”
I laugh into a smile that vanishes too quickly. Replaced with a pain, a feeling I’m dodging. Who would’ve thought that Maximoff could speak about our future easier than me?
With a free-throw, I trash my crumpled plastic cup in a trashcan, and I push back the ache in my chest. “After that,” I tell Maximoff, “Ripley would turn to you and whine, ‘Papa,’ because you’re too good, and he forgets how much of a hardass you are. Still, you’d go buy him a Fizz.”
“Fizz Life,” Maximoff amends, gaze faraway. “It’s better for him.”
I smile. “No offense to your family’s soda empire, but all that shit is unhealthy, carbonated syrup.”
His eyes finally meet mine. “Really? I had no clue.”
I let out a short laugh, but in the next beat, we look deeper into one another.
Maximoff inhales a sharp breath. “Am I torturing us with this?”
I want to shake my head. But I nod once. “A little bit.” I’m not into masochism, and picturing a future where Ripley is permanently our son is packed with love and pain. “If we were smarter, we’d just talk about kids in generalizations.”
At least we know we’ll have them someday.
“For some damn reason,” Maximoff says, “I’d rather be dumb and talk about our life with him.”
I know I’m all-in, but it feels like Maximoff has me beat.
“It’s the Hale Curse,” Xander says adamantly, speaking louder. Stealing our attention. “What goes wrong will go wrong to a Hale. Why else would the strippers only be sent to Moffy and not Farrow?”
Maximoff cuts in, “The Hale Curse is a made-up thing, Summers.”
He’ll go to his grave telling his siblings that it’s bullshit, but I know he somewhat believes in that bullshit too.
“I don’t know.” Luna slurps from a dick straw. “Sounds like a Hale conspiracy to me.”
Kinney shrugs, unconcerned. “I’m not afraid of any curse.”
Maximoff opens his mouth, but a confrontation explodes near a bamboo-shuttered window, only a few feet away.
“I can’t believe you agreed to that fucked up request,” Sulli says heatedly to Akara. “You said we were friends.”
Akara glances subtly at Banks, who leans up against the wall and chews a toothpick. The six-foot-seven bodyguard is watching the scene unfold like we are, and then Akara focuses back on his client. “We are friends, Sul.”
“So you’re allowed to joke with me without some guy having
his ego bruised.”
I missed something here. It’s their shit to work out, but I don’t love how Maximoff looks upset. My best guess: he’s beating himself up right now. Earlier, Sulli was in the process of explaining something to him about her wallpaper boyfriend, and before she could finish, he was pulled away to find Kinney.
I don’t have any intel to share and ease him. But I remember that Jane stayed back with Sulli. So I whisper to Maximoff, “Jane probably knows what’s going on.”
“Wait…where did Janie go?” He looks around.
From a quick check, I already know Jane isn’t in the makeshift VIP area. Thatcher is MIA too. I touch the mic on my collar. “Farrow to Thatcher, are you with Jane?”
One second later, his strict voice is in my ear. “Yeah.” He’s a beat too slow to unclick the mic, and I hear a short moan over comms. Every bodyguard in my sight flinches like they just heard their little sister come.
“Shit,” I curse out loud.
Maximoff narrows his gaze. “What?”
I grit down on my teeth and rub my mouth.
Moretti is going to be pissed at himself, and fuck, I feel partly to blame. If I’d known they went somewhere to have a quickie, I wouldn’t have radioed him.
“Farrow.”
I cup his jaw and explain what happened against his ear. His face just keeps falling and falling. “Fuck,” he curses. “Don’t you and Thatcher have code signals or something for this?”
“Code signals?” I lift my brows. “For quickies?”
“Yeah.”
I want to tease him, but it’s not a half-bad idea. “We’ll work on it.”
Sulli touches the dolphin pendant roped around her neck. “Who else knew? Is this…is it something that everyone was fucking in on…and you left me…I was left in the dark?” She struggles with words and looks over at Maximoff to throw a life raft.
He steps closer. “I have no idea what happened.”
Sulli takes a big breath. “My boyfriend told Akara to stop flirting with me, so that’s fucking why Akara has been so…you know…standoffish.”
Akara is quiet. He brushes a hand through his black hair, fits on a baseball cap backwards, and then angles towards Banks. Just to whisper something to him.
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