Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“There is no story,” O’Malley says plainly.
I would agree and say, Yep, if not for the fact that he broke the silent bodyguard oath first. The one that says to leave clients out of our bullshit—so they’ll be unaware of any bad blood between bodyguards and they’ll always trust the security that’s protecting them.
He fucked me over in front of Luna at the bowling alley.
Can’t forget it.
Then we threw fists and ended up brawling on a bowling lane. All in view of the famous families. So acting like we’re cool, like there is no beef between us, isn’t going to work. Beckett will remember the fight.
“There is a fucked-up story. You want that one?” I ask Beckett, not able to look away from the digital floor numbers.
O’Malley jumps in, “It’s not anything you should be concerned about, Beck.” Beck. He calls him by his nickname. Since when? I have to remember the one time O’Malley was nice to me was because we both genuinely love Beckett.
“I’d like to know,” Beckett says, sounding cautious. Like he’s not purposefully trying to instigate a world war.
We’re closing in on the fifteenth floor.
And then the elevator screeches to a halt. We’re between floors.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” O’Malley mutters, pounding the number 15 button. He seems almost more irritated being stuck in the confined space with me than I am.
Beckett checks his phone. “No signal.”
I open the emergency box and take out the corded phone. Operator comes online, and I report the outage and chat for a second, then hang up. “They’re working on having it up and running in five minutes. They don’t think they’ll need to send anyone out, but they’ll keep us posted.”
“Well,” Beckett says, tensed. “My mom would call this fate.” He turns to the two of us. “Here’s an opportunity to work it out.”
“It can’t be worked out, Beck,” I say to him.
Beckett’s yellow-green eyes stay calm but carry slight sadness as he asks, “Do you believe in second chances?”
I think he’s asking about himself. This is really the first thing we’ve done together since our big falling out. And it’s being derailed by a busted elevator and O’McFugly.
“He’s not looking for a second chance,” I tell Beckett. “He thinks he’s done nothing wrong.”
O’Malley lets out an aggravated noise. “Fucking Omega. You all are the same.” He shoves his phone in his gray slacks. “You have zero morals. Zero ethics to stand on. And when Epsilon calls you out on them, you play the victim. I’m not the fucking villain, Donnelly.”
My nose flares. “Take another look in the mirror.”
“Why don’t you?” he snaps.
“Been looking and I see enough flaws to know I’m not anything that you’d think is respectable, but what about you? Get off your fucking high horse, man. You’re no better than me.”
“Again, I’m not fucking a client.”
“Whoa,” Beckett cuts in, protective over his family. That includes Luna, thank God, and he knows me well enough that he’s not trying to protect her from me.
O’Malley threads his fingers against the back of his neck, instant regret hitting his eyes. Yeah, he popped off in front of Beckett and now he’s glaring at me like I provoked him there.
Come on. “Not everything is my fault. Not everything is on me,” I say with heat.
O’Malley works his jaw, then turns to Beckett. “I know your family loves SFO because, obviously, they’re family now. But in our profession, what they’ve done is out of bounds. What Donnelly is doing with Luna—when she has amnesia and can’t even remember him—that’s the fucked-up story.”
I see red, and I have to intake a sharp breath to cool off.
“Luna is emotionally attached to him,” Beckett explains like it’s not that strange. “She chose Donnelly.”
O’McFugly is staring me down. “Why do you think that is?”
I cut in, “I didn’t fill her head with bullshit to get her to trust me, Chris. I’d never do that to anyone.”
“No one can confirm that, Paul.”
“Believe what you wanna believe then,” I say. “Believe the absolute worst about me. You already have since the day I met you. Why stop now?”
Beckett has a hand against the side of his face like this is real deep shit he didn’t realize we were wading in. It stinks. It’s rotten. And we all want out, but swimming for an escape feels impossible.
“I tried to like you,” O’Malley admits in a tight breath. “But you make it really fucking hard.”
“And you don’t? Why would I ever wanna be friends with a guy who constantly rags on me and my family?”
“Your family is fucking awful,” O’Malley spits back.
“You don’t think I don’t know that?” I sneer between gritted teeth. “You don’t think I wished they were different?”
“Not really—you defend them every chance you fucking get.”
“From people like you!” I shout. “Who see my parents as 2-D caricatures. You think they sit there, get high, and plot heinous crimes like they’re fucking Dr. Evil. You don’t even know how many months they’ve spent trying to get clean. How hard it was for them every single time.”