Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Fuck you.
Fuck off.
I force these back. Professional, stay fucking professional.
Tony crosses his arms, sweat staining his blue tee. “You’ve been breathing down my neck all month, Moretti. At this point, you either trust me to do my job or you don’t.”
A part of me does trust him—I hate that I trust him.
It’s why I can’t rip him away from Jane’s detail, but I’m not even here to triple-check Tony (though it’s a perk). I’m here because I’m the one traveling to Scotland, not Banks, and I’d rather be in this meeting than have Banks regurgitate everything back to me.
But Tony and O’Malley can’t know this.
Farrow and the rest of Omega whisper at the boxing bags. In their own conversation.
“It is what it is,” I tell Tony professionally. “In another month, your probationary period will be over, and you won’t have anything to worry about.”
Donnelly laughs at something.
My senses are ringing, hyper-vigilant to any movements and sounds. I catch O’Malley looking past me and my brother. His eyes blazing on Omega.
Honestly, I wish O’Malley wasn’t here, but he’s Beckett’s bodyguard. And Charlie has confirmed that Beckett is still using cocaine, so the plan to make Beckett go to Scotland is intact and waiting to be executed.
Banks whispers to me, “This is gonna be a shit show.”
I stay alert and uncap a water bottle. “Dealing with shit shows is what we do.” I take a swig and wipe my mouth with my wrist, then I hand him the water.
His lip quirks. “What you and Akara do,” he corrects. “I’m just your cowboy.” He swallows a gulp, and we hawk-eye Epsilon. “Incoming,” Banks says under his breath.
O’Malley takes an affronting step forward.
I block his path. “Don’t.”
He ignores me and raises his voice. “You shouldn’t be here either, Donnelly!”
Laughter dies.
Farrow pops his gum, Oscar’s hand freezes in a bag of Bugels, and Quinn solidifies midway in a sit-up.
“What’d you say?” Donnelly glares.
Oscar removes his hand from the snack bag and clutches his friend’s shoulder. Keeping him back. Farrow leans casually on a boxing bag, tattoos inked on his neck and chest. Intimidating in his relaxed demeanor. He pops another bubble with his gum.
“I said, you…shouldn’t…be…here…either,” O’Malley repeats annoyingly slow. “Your client is Xander Hale. He’s staying in Philly, so you’ll be in Scotland as a friend of Farrow’s, not as security. And this is a security meeting.”
Farrow cuts in, “Donnelly has to be here in case we need extra hands. It’s that simple.”
This shuts up O’Malley for half a second. “The team isn’t paying for your travel expenses, Donnelly,” he yells. “How are you even affording this?”
“My good looks,” Donnelly quips.
O’Malley laughs with Tony, then nods back to SFO. “Still working that street corner?”
Christ.
“He gave that corner to you, O’Malley,” Farrow says easily.
Oscar chimes in, “We heard no one even wanted your free blow jobs.”
Donnelly smirks. “Need tips?”
“From someone who’s had ten different STDs, I’ll pass,” O’Malley retorts, then outstretches his arms. “You want to keep going? It’s not changing the fact that Beckett is my client. It’s not changing the fact that I’m always—”
“O’Malley,” I growl.
I’ve already heard him say I’m always cleaning up Donnelly’s messes. And I’m not letting him unleash that twice. I nail a patented stern look on him again.
He cuts his gaze to me.
And in a split-second, I become the target.
Good.
“You remember what you told me on my first day?” O’Malley asks, trekking closer. Feeling how hot my blood is running, I cross my arms and step back.
Again.
And again.
“You said this was a brotherhood.”
I nod, my lungs burning, and my deltoids hit a punching bag. Nowhere to go, I stop in place.
He edges nearer, much shorter but he lifts his chin. “You said that we put the clients first but the people who have our backs are the guys to our left and right. You said that if I couldn’t be dependable, then I needed to pack my bags and leave. You remember that?”
I do.
Because as a lead, I gave that same speech to every man who joined SFE. My jaw hurts from bearing down on my molars, but I have nothing to say. Nothing to make this right.
I can’t apologize for falling in love with her.
I can’t call what happened a mistake. Gun to my head, I’d repeat every moment so I’d have the boldest, smartest girl next to me—a girl I shouldn’t have.
But she’s mine, and I might not deserve her but I swear to God, I’ll never harm her, and I’d give my life to protect her. I know I’m not a prince.
I’m not a king.
But I’d treat Jane like she should be treated. She’s my princess, my angel, and my queen. Every morning and every night. I’d kneel at her feet and stand by her side.
“It was all bullshit in the end, right?” O’Malley is up against me, chest to chest. “You’re a fucking liar. I should’ve known that when we learned you’re a Marine. But I was stupid enough to defend your ass to SFE.”