Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He always has, and I’ve always tried to let that raw thought go.
But Xander is fifteen now. He’s the same age that Skylar died. And I can’t lose that kid like I lost my brother. He was mine to protect.
They both were.
* * *
We finally get word from temp security. Xander is at the graveyard on the hill. Where the DJ is stationed, and we move out in that direction. To ensure he’s okay.
The farm is massive. Over a hundred acres, and a four-wheeler passes with a giggling group of college-aged kids dressed as ghouls.
We pass the back of Hell 4: a rickety barn transformed into a haunted house, and sitting against the red chipped wood, Charlie Cobalt smokes a blunt and reads a book.
No guests approach him, per the rules of the party: no autographs, no pictures, no hassling the famous ones.
Oscar Oliveira is standing next to him. Scoping the area. So his gaze lands on me first, curly pieces of his hair falling over a rolled bandana. Looking the most Baywatch-ready with aviators on.
“Charlie,” Oscar says, alerting his client.
Charlie sees us, folding his book. He stands up, not bothering to dust dirt off his three-piece suit, and he joins our group.
Maximoff texted Charlie earlier to see if he wanted to come along and help find Xander. Charlie replied, “You’ll pass me.”
That was it.
And now he’s on the trek with us.
Jane smiles in my arms, seeing her brother and best friend work closer together.
Charlie sucks on a blunt and scrutinizes me holding Jane. Saying nothing about his sister in my arms. He’s been nice towards me specifically. And Banks too.
I didn’t know why until I asked Jane. She said Charlie told her, “Thatcher chose his twin, knowing it’d be harder to be seen as an individual.”
I chose to be around Banks instead of distance myself. We both chose that. A harder path, but the only one we’ve known. And apparently, Charlie values that.
That’s good. Considering Charlie is Jane’s brother. And I don’t know which one of her brothers would be the hardest to gain trust or respect from—she has five.
My jaw tics. Why would I need to gain anything from them? She’ll just be my client soon. I can still feel myself vacillating in two directions—I hate it.
I look down at Jane. She ditched her witch hat, and she rests her temple on my shoulder, comfortable against me.
She needs a bodyguard who she trusts. Stability. It’s vital to Jane, and I can’t abandon her detail.
“Stay frosty,” Banks says as we approach the muddy hill. Orange strobe lights swaying up towards the star-blanketed sky.
I focus. Tuning into my instincts, my senses. I hear yelling and cheering that accompanies competitions. Fervent. Loud.
Aggressive.
And that’s when I see the red Power Ranger, and adrenaline fuels my brain and blood. At the peak of the hill, Xander is in a full-blown fistfight with a white ranger.
No helmets to their costumes. I spot his shaggy brown hair, his gangly body, and pretty boy face: one-hundred percent him. And an audience is howling and goading them to hit harder.
I taught Xander to fight, but not so he could lay punches in at a fucking Halloween party. Guilt barrels into my chest, and Farrow’s jaw muscle twitches. He helped teach Xander to box with me. So did Banks, who inhales a strained breath.
Where is Tony? His bodyguard should’ve broken this up. I look to Banks. “Tell the temp guards to break up the fight.” I see three just watching.
Banks switches radio frequencies and speaks to them in comms.
Maximoff starts to run up the slick, muddy hill, and Farrow drops his trauma bag. Catching up to his fiancé’s side. It’s not an easy climb. They slide.
When the white ranger slams a left hook into Xander’s jaw, Maximoff digs in harder and yells, “XANDER!”
Banks goes to help.
My muscles flex, and Jane can feel my shoulders contracting as she holds on to them.
I’m not planning to join. Neither is Charlie or Oscar. Our clients are here. We stay here. We stand near, but far enough from the foot of the hill that our view of Xander isn’t obstructed.
“Put me down,” Jane says instantly, hurriedly. “Go, go —I’ll stay with Charlie.”
“No. I’m not leaving your side.” My voice is concrete. In my head, there is no other option. And even if there were, this is what I want. Her detail.
Her.
I trust my brother. I trust Farrow and even Maximoff to get the job done.
Suddenly, part of the audience breaks off, mostly drunk frat-bro-looking shitbags dressed as Vikings, and they slide down the hill. Grinning, aiming for Farrow and Maximoff, the Winter Soldier and Captain America.
Being a bodyguard for so long, I sense what’s about to happen. The Vikings want to push our men down. Just to prolong the entertainment at the top of the hill.