Sinful Like Us (Like Us Series: Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 5)

by Krista Ritchie

One chest X-ray later, results normal, and I’m now on observation for damage the smoke might’ve caused my lungs. Farrow said, “It’s extra precaution in case of delayed lung injury. I might order a second chest X-ray.”

  I have to stay overnight.

  You put her through hell, Thatcher.

  I cross the room, IV wheels screeching as they roll. Patient drawstring pants ride low on my waist.

  “You look distraught,” Jane says softly, an empty Styrofoam cup in hand. Banks just left to go buy more coffees from a machine down the hall. She’s the only one with me, and she’s still wearing my black crewneck that hangs past her thighs.

  Reminding me that the fire incinerated her closet. And all of her belongings.

  Gone.

  I walk back towards her.

  Jane stands poised in the middle of the room, like she didn’t just experience one of the worst nights of her life.

  My fault.

  My fucking fault.

  I stop in front of her.

  “Do you need more pain meds?” she asks.

  My throat is scratched raw, hoarse from hacking up, and my shoulder stings—but that pain is pushed so far back in my mind. Boxed and packaged away.

  I shake my head. “No.” I keep shaking my head, upset at what I’ve done. “You always say that you’re being unfair to me somehow, but tonight, I feel like…” I swallow a rock, my bloodshot eyes on fire and filling. “I feel like I threw you to the fucking wolves, and you deserved better.” I blink and tears track down my face, slipping off my jaw.

  Jane quickly sets the cup on a tray table, and I watch her walk to the corner of the room. She drags over a stepstool and climbs up. A foot taller, she reaches my exact height.

  I breathe stronger.

  We’re eye for eye, and her small hands brush the wet lines off my face, before staying still on my jaw. “I’ve fallen madly in love with you.” Her powerful blue eyes flood with tears, and I hold her wet cheek while she says, “And the you that I know is all unwavering strength and resilience and South Philly grit—and every day, you risk your life for me and for other people who need your strength and resilience and grit.”

  I almost shake my head again because I still feel like I let her down.

  Gently, I place my hand on the top of her beating heart, and I stare deep into her tearful gaze. “You’re my duty. My heart, and you come first.”

  “You think you put me second or third tonight?” She frowns. “You didn’t, Thatcher. I was safe.” She clutches my jaw stronger. “Your entire life is built on service to others. I don’t want different. I don’t need different. I need you exactly as you are, just as you’ve loved me as exactly as I am.”

  It crashes against me. There are no words.

  I wipe her face; she wipes mine.

  And in this moment, I let go of the seven-ton guilt I was ready to bear. Our breaths come heavy, and then I just bring her lips to mine. Her fingers coil around my hair while I deepen the kiss. Sensual and slow, eking out emotion that strings me to her and her to me.

  We break apart when SFO spills into my hospital room. They all ask how I’m doing, and I tell them, “I’m good.” Coffees are passed around.

  Toothpick between his teeth, Banks comes closer, and we share a look that says, you’re my brother. I love you. It’s simple and silent.

  We’ve never needed to say much for the other to understand.

  Heaviness leaves, and as Banks passes, he yanks down my pants and spanks my bare ass. “Looking good, Cinderella.”

  A shadow of a smile plays at my mouth.

  Half the room laughs. Flush creeps on Jane’s neck, trying not to look at my dick, and after I raise my pants loosely on my waist, she smooths her lips together and braves a glance at my crotch.

  Standing next to her, I whisper, “It’s yours.”

  She heats. “Forever?”

  “Forever,” I confirm.

  Jane sips her coffee, smiling. “I like it up here.” She’s still on the stepstool, surveying SFO bodyguards and Maximoff as they gather around. “You and Banks have a nice view.”

  My lip wants to lift.

  Mood is light, but tense as the room quiets and everyone glances to each other.

  We’ve experienced a lot of shit as a team and with our clients, but a fire that took down a whole house—that’s new terrain we just crossed together.

  Akara steps into the middle. He snaps his fingers to his palm. “We have a lot to cover.” He’s including Jane and Maximoff in this impromptu security meeting. “First, I’m opening the floor for questions.”

  I have one. “Any word on the cause of the fire?”

  “Electrical?” Donnelly leans on the bathroom door.

  “It’s an old house,” Oscar agrees, eating a mini-can of Pringles. “Kitchen appliance could’ve blown a fuse.”

  Quinn slouches forward on a chair. “Why didn’t the fire alarm go off?”

  Maximoff is rigid and stares hard at the ground, and everyone goes quiet. That question hit a nerve. I should’ve rechecked the alarm too.

  We all lived there with people we love and take care of—but we can’t go back. Pushing forward is all we have. And I’m snapped to.

  Farrow has an arm around his fiancé’s waist. “The batteries were fairly new.”

  “Fire alarms malfunction sometimes,” Banks says with the lift of a shoulder. “It’s not that uncommon.”

  “Oui.” Jane nods resolutely.

  I narrow my eyes on Akara.

  His brows are scrunched, looking concerned. “Police are opening an investigation, guys. They’re not ruling out arson.”

  It tanks the room like dumbbells hitting the bottom of an ocean.

  I scrape my hand over my unshaven jaw, tugging my fucking IV cords. I untangle them. “Any security footage?”

  “Damaged.”

  Jane frowns. “But it still could potentially be electrical?”

  “Yeah,” Akara says. “That’s likely, but we won’t know for sure until the police report.” He looks around. “Any other questions?”

  Oscar raises a hand. “Our favorite doctor over here”—he gestures to Farrow, who rolls his eyes—“told me Tony wants back on-duty tomorrow. Is that happening?”

  I swallow a rough cough in the back of my throat. Truth is, I ran into Tony earlier. We were waiting for chest X-rays together.

  I was quiet.

  He was quiet, until he said, “Thanks.” Curt. To the fucking point, and I nodded in reply.

  I didn’t need more. Could’ve been fine with less.

  Before the fire, he only had three days left as Jane’s bodyguard. Did I know he wanted back tomorrow so he could finish out her detail?

  Hell no.

  I would’ve said something to him. Like fuck you.

  My hand is clamped on my mouth. I’m motionless. Waiting for the gavel to drop.

  “I talked to Alpha and Epsilon,” Akara says, voice tight. “And to put this lightly, the leads admire that Tony was willing to risk his life for a client’s pet.”

  Half the room restrains groans, the other half are eye-rolling around the world.

  I’m glaring.

  “It’s not ideal,” Akara agrees.

  Oscar swigs coffee. “We’re not wishing the guy seven months in the ICU. We just want to know if he’s coming back tomorrow.”

  “If the doctors clear Tony, he’s allowed on-duty.”

  Donnelly spins to Farrow. “You clearing him or what?”

  His jaw muscle twitches. “If he’s medically fine to work, I have to, and to be honest, that’s probably happening tomorrow.”

  Silence entombs the room. We’re breathing dead air.

  It’s not just about me. Jane and I can survive three days with Tony. This is about the team, our careers and future. We’re meeting the end of a golden era in security.

  We’re losing Akara as a lead.

  We have zero power in the Tri-Force. Akara was all we had, and with Tony as a decision-m
aker, he can transfer us. He can fine us. Suspend us and fire us for minor infractions.

  Akara cuts his gaze to everyone. “You have to obey Tony. You have to respect him. He’s your lead.”

  No one says a word.

  I shift my glare to the wall.

  Following incompetent officers into combat, ones who make a platoon two klicks off and six hours late—I’ve been that infantryman grinding his teeth and shutting the fuck up. Then getting chewed out because that officer just got reamed by the Battalion Commander.

  Done it.

  And I’ll shut the fuck up again, but there are officers you meet who are good. Just flat-out fucking good—and the respect comes easy. No gnawing or clenched jaw or grumbled curses.

  Akara was always a better leader than me.

  He still is, and to lose him is to lose the best authority the team has ever seen.

  Akara runs a hand through his black hair a few times, more nervous, and we watch him grab a motorcycle backpack he threw on a chair. He unzips and pulls out folded papers. Turning back to us, he says, “You do have a choice—and I’m telling you upfront, the grass isn’t greener.”

  I’m confused.

  Jane smiles into another sip of coffee.

  She knows.

  Maximoff is also more relaxed than usual.

  He knows.

  While Akara passes stapled papers to each bodyguard, I whisper to Jane, “You going to tell me?”

  “And spoil the ending?” She brightens. “Never.”

  Akara stops at me and hands me a thick, stapled stack. “It’s you and me.” Banks will tell anyone that his best friend is Akara, but he’ll also say that he knows he’s not Akara’s best friend.

  Because I’m Akara’s ride-or-die.

  I have trouble calling Akara anything other than my closest friend. Truth is, I don’t like assuming anyone wants me to be their best friend.

  But I feel like he’s mine. I’d do anything for him.

  I take the papers and instantly see the typed title.

  Kitsuwon Securities Inc.

  This is a contract. He’s building his own private security firm.

  “Yours is different,” Akara explains. “You’d be a rank above the other men, but below me.”

  I flip the page. “As it should be.”

  He smiles, but his lips downturn fast. And before anyone can edge in another word, he addresses all of us. “This isn’t a life jacket. It could be a sinking ship. Kitsuwon Securities will be completely separate from Price’s Triple Shield, and all the resources that we’ve built are gone. Security’s housing belongs to them. The whole temp roster we’ve grown—I don’t have. Which means we need to train new temps. You won’t have seasoned guards when you need a day off. The rumor about us being fake bodyguards and in relationships with our clients—it will definitely ramp up. Your pay will be cut, substantially, and I can’t tell you where you’ll be living yet.” He expels a tense breath. “You’ll have to bear with all the kinks of being a part of a new company.”

  I’m good to go.

  Oscar looks around. “Who has a pen?”

  We’re all smiling.

  Happiness doesn’t encapsulate what hits the air. It’s elation. Rapture.

  Akara tries to restrain his smile. “Come on, guys. Think about this.”

  “What’s there to think about?” Farrow asks, chewing gum casually.

  “Yeah, boss. We heard all we needed to.” Donnelly slips a pen out from behind his ear.

  Jane hands me a ballpoint pen and turns, so I can splay the papers against her back for a hard surface. And I sign my name on the dotted line.

  I pass my brother the pen.

  We’ve all joined Kitsuwon Securities in a matter of minutes.

  No one hesitates.

  Akara nods to us, overwhelmed. He turns his head. “Alright.” He takes a deeper breath, collecting his emotion. “You want to hear about what happens with your clients now?”

  “Lay it on us, Kitsuwon,” Oscar says.

  “Clients can now choose which private security to hire. Either mine or Triple Shield. But if the client is a minor, their parents will need to hire my firm.”

  I process this. “What happens to Xander? He’s the only minor with an Omega bodyguard.”

  Maximoff says, “I’ve already spoken to my parents, and they asked Xander which private security he’d rather use. He said Akara’s team.”

  Banks bounces his head. “Right on.”

  Quinn frowns. “What happens if more than seven clients request this firm? There are only seven of us.”

  “That’s not an issue yet,” Akara says. “Most of the family that are protected by Alpha and Epsilon are happy with their bodyguards, and they’ll stay with them.”

  “Which clients want to hire the new company?” Oscar asks.

  Akara looks to Jane.

  She perks up. “Moffy and I are objectively positive that Charlie, Sullivan, and Luna will opt in, besides us of course.”

  Donnelly frowns. “Not Beckett?”

  Jane shakes her head. “I’m unsure. Charlie thinks he’s content with O’Malley at the moment.”

  “He could come around, Donnelly,” Akara says, “but until then, I have new details to assign.” He massages his palm. “So here’s the deal, since all you dumb-fucks decided to join a sinking ship, there are no Omega bodyguards over at Triple Shield. SFO is here.” He points at the floor.

  My lips rise.

  The men are grinning. So is Jane next to me.

  “Tony can’t be a lead if there’s no Force to lead.”

  Oscar claps loudly, and the other two Yale boys join in the applause.

  Banks messes my hair next to me, and I say, more to him, “Christmas came late, gents.”

  He cracks a smile. “I’ll take that gift.”

  “Tony can rat out the twin switch to the Alpha lead all he wants,” Akara says, “but Price can’t fire Thatcher and Banks if you two don’t work for him.”

  I almost laugh, in shock. This was Akara’s plan to pull me out of the twelve-foot ditch. And it worked.

  More applause fills the room.

  “I don’t know where Price will put Tony,” Akara continues, “but I can tell you all, here, that you’re staying with your current clients. Except for you.”

  He’s looking at me.

  “You have Jane.”

  “I, what?” I stare hard, unblinking, not registering the fact that I could be on her detail again. I’ve punished myself for so long for screwing the team—it just didn’t feel like a position I should be given.

  But I want it.

  I want her.

  With every fiber of my being.

  Jane’s hands fly to her mouth, wide-eyed and stunned. She didn’t know. Our eyes fasten together while Akara repeats, “You’re Jane’s bodyguard.”

  It slams into me.

  I can protect my wife.

  That’s what she’ll be. My wife.

  My hand slides along her cheek, her tears falling, and our foreheads drift closer. Men chat softly behind us, giving me and her a moment, and their voices fade to the background.

  “Thatcher.” She inhales like we’re on an ascent.

  My chest caves and expands. “Jane.”

  “You’re my bodyguard.” She speaks our blissful reality into the world.

  I hold her close, emotion barreling into my body. Surging and stinging my eyes, and very deeply, I say, “You’re going to be my wife. I promise you that.”

  She cries into a tearful smile, and her lips find my ear—her cheek brushing against my hard jaw—and tenderly, Jane whispers, “I love you, I love you, I love you, and let me tell you how terribly and tremendously I do.”

  I listen to Jane ramble quickly and slowly about her love for me, right against my ear—and I could shut my eyes and breath in. Like it’s my first breath on this earth.

  I stand strong, my pulse soothed, and my hand lost in her frizzed hair. I can live inside hell, but
for the first time, I’ve finally reached heaven—and I’m happy and I’m staying. I’m staying. To build a life and future and family. Right here, with Jane Eleanor Cobalt.

  For forever.

  49

  JANE COBALT

  Rather quickly, I snip off tags hooked to store-bought cat toys: new vibrant colored mice, a few feathery stuffed balls, and a cupcake and unicorn stuffed catnip set, thanks to the Meadows family.

  And I steal a glance at the sexiest, sternest, and most iron-willed man my eyes have ever loved. Thatcher slices open packaging to a new litter box, our seven cats prancing curiously around him and me.

  He’s careful with the knife as they nudge closer.

  I smile, but then I remember where we are. Only two days have passed since the fire, and we’re all still picking up the pieces.

  I turn more towards him. “Are you sure you’re okay to stay here until we all decide on a new place?” I add in haste, “And I know I’ve asked you a dozen times already, and this will be the last—I just need to be certain.”

  “Yeah.” Thatcher rips open the cardboard box. “I’m good here.”

  I eye him, more intrigued. He’s not even surveying his surroundings—which are very pastel blue. And frilly, and I suppose not entirely different to my room in the townhouse.

  Except for the sheer opulence.

  A diamond chandelier hangs over a four-poster princess-like bed. Set in the very center, the bed presides over a rosé-hued vanity, a hand-crafted wardrobe from Florence, shelves of jeweled Parisian trinkets—and not to forget the boas and outlandish costumes strewn over a dressing curtain, which costs more than his salary.

  I am obnoxiously wealthy.

  I have been this entire time. But now, he’s immersed in this luxury while he’s staying in my teenage bedroom with me. Right where I grew up.

  The Cobalt Estate is our temporary home for the time being.

  Neither of us envisioned living with my parents and my youngest brother and sister—but Thatcher agreed it’s safer to “post-up” in the gated neighborhood until we find a permanent place.

  He glances back at me in my silence. “You’re okay with this arrangement?”

  “It’s strange being here with you, but maybe that’s because you’re my future and this room is entirely nostalgic. And our present is finding its footing.”