Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
I’m in no position to move the meeting to another day, but I try anyway. For Jack.
Because he did so much more for me tonight.
And what the hell am I even doing for him? “I have to be in Center City right after this,” I tell Akara.
“I don’t care,” he snaps. “You fought in front of the fucking families. In front of guests. In front of Alpha and Epsilon. You’re so lucky I haven’t already fired you.”
I know.
Jack shrugs his shoulders in a way that punctures my heart. “It’s okay, Os.”
It’s not. I shake my head.
“I’ll call you.”
“Right after,” I make him promise.
“Yeah. Right after.”
The extra-wide security van has an aisle and four rows of black leather seats. We’re parked outside the golf course’s clubhouse. Six of seven SFO bodyguards are present. Everyone except Farrow. Not shocked. Just annoyed.
Adjusting the icepack to my cheek, I check the time on my phone.
I’m going to kill Redford. This shit can’t start without him.
“Pringle?” Donnelly offers the slender can of BBQ Pringles to me. He’s in the row in front of mine, and we sit sideways, our heads against the tinted window, and I see a sliver of his face, the rest obstructed by the seat.
“No thanks.” I can’t even stress eat right now.
My baby bro is in the very first row near the driver’s seat. He’s had his earbuds in, staring out the window. The Moretti brothers and Akara are in a convo at the very back, so hushed that I can’t distinguish anything. Bet they’re discussing my brother’s fate in security.
I’m irreplaceable, but Quinn can be let go.
It weighs on me.
Feeling choked, I pop a couple more buttons on my button-down. Most of the guys have shed the tailored suit jackets and undone ties. We look like a sober bachelor party that ended in a fistfight.
It did end in a fistfight, Oliveira.
I blow out a coarser breath.
“How many times did it roll?” Donnelly asks more quietly. He means the golf cart.
“I couldn’t tell.” Alright, I do steal a Pringle.
Sweet, heavenly food.
Donnelly crunches on a chip. “Been sayin’ all along Cobalts are invincible. Eliot and Tom have what—a cut? And Luna’s arm is probably broken.”
“It is broken,” I whisper. “No fucking doubt about that, bro.”
Donnelly sighs. He hates seeing the families hurt. We all do, but I’m gonna take solace in the fact that no one was gravely injured tonight.
He stacks five Pringles together. “Bad luck crew.” He stuffs his mouth full, and I know he’s referring to the Hale family. He mumbles something about “Cobalts never die” with reverence.
If Jack weren’t alone right now when I should be with him—I’d be grinning. I lick the barbeque seasoning off my thumb.
And if Farrow were on time, he’d butt in with, “Technically, Charlie got hurt in the car crash last year. So did Ben. They’re not invincible.”
But he’s not here to knock the Cobalt Empire down a few pegs. And we delight in the armored romanticism of our favorite famous family.
I check the time again.
Come on, Redford.
“You’ll make it, man,” Donnelly reassures. “Jack might be in the production meeting for a whole two hours.”
True. I could catch him right as he leaves.
If Farrow would hurry the fuck up.
Three minutes pass.
Then five more. “Kitsuwon,” I call to the back.
“Yeah?”
“Can we just say Farrow is med team tonight and not SFO and start without him?”
“I’ll catch him up,” Donnelly pipes in. “I can take notes.” He’s about to put on reading glasses.
“We’re waiting for Farrow,” Akara decrees, his no-nonsense, strict perimeters part of my punishment, I think. “He’s SFO as much as he’s med team.”
Fucking, ugh.
The clock keeps moving.
Ten more minutes, then another twenty. Three more Pringles cans dusted off. And finally, Farrow dips into the van. He barely reaches the first row, and I can’t bite my tongue.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
He stops in the aisle, meeting my harsh glare with confusion. “At the hospital.” He throws his med bag on a vacant seat.
Yeah…I feel like a dick.
“Is Luna alright?” Quinn asks about his client.
Salt meet wound. Biggest jackass award goes to me.
“She needed X-rays,” Farrow explains. “She’ll be okay.” That’s all he can really reveal under doctor-patient confidentiality. He takes a seat across the aisle from mine and shakes his head at me like what the fuck is wrong?
I haven’t had time to talk to him about Jack’s meeting. So Farrow didn’t know the importance of getting the fuck out of here ASAP.
“Tell you later,” I mutter, our eyes veering as Akara heads to the front. Standing, our boss starts the meeting.
Let’s go.
I’m ready to end this thing.
Akara snaps his fingers to his palm. “We all know what happened tonight is grounds for termination. I want to make this absolutely clear, if we were all still employed by Triple Shield, I wouldn’t have the power to keep you two around.” He looks from Quinn to me. “You’d be fired.” He addresses everyone now. “We don’t all have to be best friends, but if we’re going at it—the families should never know. We should appear like an unbreakable fortress, and if we show our asses, we’ve failed. They need to have unwavering faith in our ability to protect them at all fucking times.”