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)
“Some fucker slashed tires on both cars,” Farrow informs them.
Maximoff crosses his arms. “Typical.”
Jane nods. “Will we manage without extra security to block paparazzi? Or will we need to wait for more?”
“We should be fine,” I tell her. “I’ll drive to New York.” I know she prefers not to drive security’s vehicles.
Farrow turns to his fiancé. “You going to let me behind the wheel, wolf scout?”
“Maybe,” Maximoff says firmly.
“Maybe,” Farrow repeats, but comms suddenly reignite.
Oscar speaks. “I think you should come to Hell’s Kitchen, Redford.”
Goddammit.
Farrow and I exchange a serious look. This isn’t news I like delivering to Jane.
“What’s wrong?” Maximoff asks his future husband.
Farrow has to respond to the team first. He clicks his mic at the collar of his V-neck. “How critical?” To Maximoff and Jane, he says, “Something’s going on at Charlie’s place.”
Jane unfreezes. “We need to hurry.” She collects the shopping bags off the counter, says a quick thanks to the pink-haired girl, and then I hear more through comms.
“I’d say not too critical,” Oscar says in my ear. “Charlie isn’t letting me in the apartment, but I heard broken glass and groaning. Just to be safe, a doctor should come here with Jane.”
Farrow relays this to our clients, and I radio my brother to come fill Farrow’s position as Maximoff’s bodyguard.
I speak to Banks in my mic. “I’ll text you the address.”
“Right on,” Banks says. “I’ll be there soon.”
Maximoff sets his green eyes on Farrow. “You’re not waiting around for Banks just for me. I can have one of the temps on my detail until he arrives. You need to go to New York now.”
Farrow’s jaw muscle tics. He sweeps our extra security standing at the entrance. He has to trust the temp guards, who are heavily vetted and trained for these situations. They have less direct access to our clients, but they’re still our men. I’ll defend them, and their mistakes in the end are my mistakes.
I’m about to reinforce this out loud, but Farrow already tells Maximoff, “Okay. I’ll leave you here.”
Jane is antsy. Ready to go, and she asks Farrow, “Are you riding with us?”
“No, I’m taking the other Range Rover.” He clasps Maximoff’s face in a loving hand. “Please wait here for Banks. Don’t go outside. Don’t do anything impatient as fuck.”
“I’ll wait.” Maximoff cups the back of Farrow’s head, and they kiss before they leave one another. Their love is palpable—and I’m not some Scrooge. They’ve found something rare in a profession where all the odds were against them.
It can’t happen twice.
I hear the leads warning me in my fucking head. Can’t happen again.
I take Jane’s hand in mine, and as much as I love being able to hold her hand like this. I’m thinking about the best advantage to protect her.
So I draw her behind my back while we reach the door where screaming fans and paparazzi remain. “Stay behind me.”
“If it’s too hard to push through the masses, is the plan to go to the rear?” she wonders.
I assess the crowds. “Affirmative.”
She inhales, preparing, and she clasps onto my waist for a second, her grip similar to someone bracing themselves for a free-fall. I reach back and keep hold of her hand again. Tighter.
You’re safe with me, honey.
That’s a lasting promise I’ll always make.
25
THATCHER MORETTI
Charlie isn’t letting me inside his apartment.
I stand silently on guard in the wide hallway of the 21st floor. Walls painted deep red, industrial lights lining the stretch of hall.
I narrow my eyes on the dark wooden door with a gold number: 2166.
About five minutes ago, Charlie cracked the door open but only for his older sister. Jane slipped in and slid me an apologetic look. Right before the door shut behind her.
Being next to Jane would’ve been the best option. What I prefer.
What I want.
But setting aside personal feelings—which I shouldn’t fucking have for my client—I also would’ve taken the second-best thing and been satisfied with one SFO bodyguard in there. Just to have eyes on the situation.
But Charlie shut out all of security.
Farrow drops his black trauma bag next to security’s apartment, which is right across the hall from 2166.
The luxury apartment complex in Hell’s Kitchen is the best housing for a bodyguard. But most on the 24/7 roster would take the worst housing without a fucking complaint.
We’re all here for the ugly, painful realities of what these families go through.
To carry them out of ditches. To unfuck whatever is fucked. Not being able to help clean up whatever the hell is going on is one of the hardest orders I have to obey.
And not just for me.
Oscar and Donnelly stand near the ajar door of their apartment. Waiting with Farrow and me to see if Jane or Charlie will call us in, but the air isn’t that tense.
If this were life-or-death serious, Jane would’ve come back out in a second flat.