Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
As she leaves, I pick up a bottle, and in my peripheral, I notice the bearded guy trying to capture my gaze at the pool table. The more beer he chugs, the less likely he’ll let this shit go.
“Okay, listen up.” Akara steals everyone’s attention, still standing. “I have three announcements to make.”
I bet I know one of the three.
“First,” he says, “if you haven’t heard already, Luna is moving into Maximoff and Jane’s townhouse. Which means Quinn is now back at security’s place with you two.” He gestures to Thatcher and me.
Knew that.
I raise my beer to Quinn. “Welcome back.”
He clinks my bottle, plus the other guys who start to cheers. We all swig.
Akara sets his bottle down. “We decided that since Luna is staying with her brother, it makes more sense to have her bodyguard remain on Omega.”
I figured that Quinn wouldn’t be shifted to Epsilon. They’re not equipped to train him, and Akara had been trying to keep Quinn in SFO even when Luna left the tour.
“Second…” Akara rotates towards Thatcher, who’s been quiet at the booth, sipping his beer. “Thatcher signed a permanent contract to be Jane Cobalt’s bodyguard this morning.”
Shit.
We all thought he’d eventually return to Epsilon and Xander Hale’s security detail. It’s why he remained a lead and part of the Tri-Force during the tour.
“Because of that,” Akara says, “he can’t be a lead anymore. The lead has to come from Epsilon, and Banks is taking his spot.” Thatcher’s brother is now the third voice of the Tri-Force.
Thatcher gave up his power and his higher pay to stay in Omega and on Jane’s detail.
But that fact isn’t what makes me smile into my swig of beer. We now earn the same amount of money, on the same level in the bodyguard hierarchy. We’re now equals.
Fuck, that feels good.
Thatcher lets out a heavy breath at me. He hates that I love it.
“Third and last thing,” Akara starts.
“Hey, pretty boy!” a drunk heckler yells at Donnelly. “Why don’t you take that thing out of your nose and shove it up your ass?!”
That insult doesn’t incite any of us.
Akara grabs his beer. “Tri-Force agreed that we can all keep our jobs and be famous, but it’s coming with a cost.”
“What?” almost all of us say.
Akara sighs. “We can’t handle major security events. Sometimes even minor ones. Not without Alpha and Epsilon or temp bodyguards. They have to join us at concerts, galas, and any charity functions. Maybe even smaller locations. We need the extra bodies, guys. We can’t do that stuff alone anymore. It’s just the way it is.”
We quiet.
I grit down and rub my jaw. I don’t want to call in reinforcements for a job we’re hired to do, but I’m not about to put my pride above Maximoff’s safety.
After a minute, we all nod. Agreeing.
We’re in the same restless ocean, a boat of six, and luckily, we’re equipped to handle the roughest weather.
Even the bearded dipshit that comes at me with a cue stick. Right now. “If you’re not gonna leave our bar, we’re gonna make you.”
Akara glares. “Really, man?”
He barrels forward in a drunken rage. There’s no reasoning with that.
I stand, Omega stands, and we step out of the booth about the same time his friends swarm us.
“Get outta—”
Thatcher sucker-punches a hefty guy, and the bar erupts into a brawl. Fists fly, chairs clatter. Quinn jabs his knuckles at a guy’s nose, and Donnelly left-hooks a three-hundred pound man who breaks a bottle.
The bearded dipshit swings the stick at my head—I duck. Then I slam my boot on his kneecap, a direct hit. He curses in pain and staggers, falling.
Next to me, Akara kicks another brawny heckler in the chest. He crashes into a pub table.
Oscar is chatting with the blonde bartender.
“Out!” the manager yells at us. “OUT!” Six or seven employees crawl out of the woodwork and start ushering us through the rear exit.
Quinn raises his hand. “I’m cool, bro.”
“We’re going, we’re going,” Akara tells them, and down a flight of stairs, we reach the road together.
Leaving the hecklers behind, we joke and meander down the Philly street like nothing is out of the ordinary. Laughing about the free beer.
But our short-lived time at The Independent isn’t a regular night. That abrupt ending is usually meant for the people we protect.
Not for us.
Slowly, we each grow quiet, hands in pockets and trekking along. Our fame collectively sinks in, adjusting like we’ve been given a new uniform to wear.
43
MAXIMOFF HALE
Cats dart under the pink Victorian loveseat, rocking chair, and up the narrowed staircase of my old townhouse. I’m back home.
I missed the little things: the historic brick walls, all my family photos on the mantel, and how it always smells like coffee and hot tea. I could’ve stayed on the road longer. But I’m not racing to find a way back.