Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Um…uh…so we lost them.”
My stomach nosedives. “Repeat.”
“We lost Jane and Maximoff.”
What the fuck.
“What do you mean?” I sneer over comms. “Maximoff is at the aquatic center.”
And Jane should be having lunch at her mom’s office. Afterwards, they were both going straight back to the secure gated neighborhood.
The temp bodyguard doesn’t reply to my question. Static fills my ear. I grind my molars, and I try calling Maximoff and Jane. Neither goes through. Their phones might not have service wherever they are.
What could be worse: high volumes of people can cause no service and jam a signal. Their safety is at serious risk in large crowds without a bodyguard.
I swiftly clip Ripley into his car seat. Moving fast.
Thatcher clicks his mic. “Thatcher to George, you better roger the fuck up in five seconds.”
George’s voice fills my ear. “Maximoff and Jane wanted to go shopping. We’re at the mall.”
On his line of the radio, I pick up background noise: screaming echoes like overwhelmed preteens meeting a superstar.
I can protect Maximoff easily at the mall—but I’m also one of the best bodyguards. For these new temps, I can’t even see them handling a food court crowd.
George continues, “The people, the—the crowds got overwhelming, and they vanished. I’m here with Ashton.” Jane’s temp.
I crawl into the passenger seat, ire blistering my nerves.
Thatcher reverses the SUV out of the parking lot and growls in his mic, “You better fill us in. Every last detail. And get your asses through those crowds. Disperse them and find our clients. Now.”
He drives to the mall while George’s annoying drawl gives me a migraine. All the while, I hear how Maximoff and Jane asked their temps to keep their locations private. Even from us.
They’re probably shopping for us.
And I can’t even blame them because the irony is real today. We’re keeping our whereabouts just as much in the dark from them.
The difference—they were put in danger.
We weren’t.
I rip out my earpiece after George stops speaking. My body practically vibrates with anger. “Fuck, these temps are driving me up the wall.”
Thatcher shakes his head. “Training them takes time that none of us have right now. Akara’s pulling double shifts—”
“I’m not blaming anyone,” I clarify.
Akara, Thatcher, and Oscar have pulled the most weight training the temps, and I appreciate not having to deal with that headache. It’s just frustrating. This company is brand fucking new. A stark contrast from Price’s 20-plus-year well-oiled corporation.
Still, I wouldn’t ever jump back.
“In a year or so, it should all be smoothed out,” Thatcher says.
A year.
It seems long, but I know it’s really just a blip.
We reach the mall. Crowds congest the front double-doors. Even more overly excitable young girls and boys climb out of vehicles and race across the parking lot, trying to enter the building.
We’ll need to find another entrance.
I check the backseat where Ripley hugs his stuffed parrot. Thatcher follows my gaze. We’ve already radioed the team. No one else is close enough to make it here for another thirty-minutes.
Too long.
We don’t know where Maximoff and Jane are—and every second counts.
“Stay here with him,” Thatcher orders.
“Like hell,” I retort. “I’m not staying behind.” Maximoff is without a bodyguard in a crowded mall, and here’s the thing, I know that I’m not just decently good at what I do.
I’m better than most.
Greater than average.
And I can protect him and protect our baby. This isn’t manufactured confidence. It’s real and accurate, and I’m not fucking budging.
His nose flares. I think he’s going to argue with me, but he says, “Then I have to be your bodyguard.”
Brittle air goes down my lungs. Fuck no. The day I need a bodyguard is the day I can no longer do my job. That’s just not happening in my lifetime.
“No, you have to be my baby’s bodyguard. Cover him while I carry him.”
Thatcher nods once, not wanting to waste time. Neither do I.
20
MAXIMOFF HALE
We’re trapped in a pretzel kiosk.
Welcome to my strange Sunday afternoon. I’m sitting on the floor with my best friend. Hidden with our backs to the display. Want some hot mustard? Yeah, me neither—dammit, I swallow back pain.
Physical pain, and I try not to shift too abruptly again.
The only employee—our one ally—already locked up his register and left to go hunt down mall security.
With zero cell service, I’m counting on him.
You might be wondering: how in the hell did we get separated from our temp bodyguards in the first place? I keep replaying the events over and over. We have a few things on our shopping list, and Jane wanted to pick up some new eye shadow palette for her little sister.
We exited Sephora.
And it was chaos, normal chaos, but for some reason, our bodyguards got pushed away like they were floating out to sea.
Hands grabbed at me.
At Janie.
I tried to shove them off her, and we made a run for the kiosk.