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)
“Oscar,” I correct, just as my phone buzzes in my fist.
Male mid-40s or 50s, a beat-up sedan with a Florida license plate. He just stepped out of his car, and he’s wearing white sneakers and jeans and carrying a dozen red roses. – Oscar
He’s someone I remember scaring off outside the townhouse. But it’s clear he hasn’t taken multiple hints. I text back: he’s a familiar target and should be easy to tell off.
Jane rests her temple to the headboard, rotated more towards me. “What do you think of Oscar Oliveira?”
I glance at the window while my gaze tightens. Just thinking about all that I fucked to hell pulls out a caustic glare. And I’m not setting it on her. “You mean personally or professionally?”
“Both, but if you’d rather not share, I understand.”
I’d rather talk about Jane, about what’s wrong, but I can’t backtrack. Because backtracking means not answering her, and I hate that.
I lower my eyes, then lift them to Jane when they’re not lethal pinpoints. “Personally…Oscar and I aren’t on that great of footing.” My phone vibrates again. “Same with me and Donnelly. I punched their friend.” I check the message.
Copy. I’ll get Sneakers to leave the parking lot. – Oscar
“I haven’t noticed,” she says. “You all seem very cordial.”
“Because on a professional level, we’re all okay.” Oscar. I’ve known the thirty-one-year-old bodyguard since I first came into security. He’d already been protecting her family for a whole year prior, and he’s intelligent, reliable and thinks ahead before most bodyguards.
He’s also more professional in front of the families. Which I used to be.
Until now.
I fucked my client.
Should regret that —I don’t.
I push myself to add more while Jane is quiet. “Oscar isn’t someone I’d want to lose on the team. He’s one of the best we have.”
Her brows jump. “Who else would you consider the best?”
This isn’t ego-driven horseshit. When you’re in charge of a team, you better know what your men can and cannot do well. I wouldn’t put O’Malley, Kinney Hale’s bodyguard, behind the wheel in a fucking blizzard when I have guys who can drive ten times better under duress.
I look to Jane. “The top three most vital bodyguards are currently all in Omega.”
And I’m not naming my brother, even though I love Banks. Even though I believe he’s necessary and skilled in so many areas that I’m not—there are three men that he’d agree with me are irreplaceable.
So I say, “Akara, Oscar, and Farrow.”
Her lips part in a sudden, overwhelming realization. I understand why her eyes redden before she says the words. “They were all at the car crash.”
I nod and cross my arms over my bare chest.
By dumb luck, the three best men on the team had been on site at the wreck. Hell, Farrow had been in the wreck and came out with only a scratch.
Alpha, Epsilon, and Omega have talked about what that night would’ve looked like if one of those three weren’t on the scene, and we all know it would’ve been a different picture.
All of them had a hand in saving her family.
I explain one detail further to Jane. How security learned that Farrow asked Oscar for a needle decompression kit to help Maximoff. No one but Oscar would’ve known what Farrow was requesting, and time had been critical.
She takes a bigger breath. “I’m really grateful for all of you.”
“I wasn’t there—”
“You were with me that night, I remember. And Moffy needed the best to survive, but I needed you.” She sits up straighter in a jolt. “Professionally speaking. On a professional level, I needed you—and I also…I also still need you, which is also to say that you’re vital to me. Professionally.” Her eyes are huge.
I nod a few times, my chest rising. “I didn’t want to be anywhere else that night but next to you.” I push myself to add, “As your bodyguard.”
Jane taps her pen to her notebook. “So we’re in agreement that you’re the best bodyguard for me…” She trails off as I uncross my arms and climb further on the bed, leaning against the iron headboard. Right next to her.
I nod in response, and the air boils somehow—I don’t fucking know how. We’ve already fucked. There should be no tension left, but we steal these glances that constrict my chest and scorch my veins.
And then my eyes land on her open notebook. At the math equations scribbled in nearly illegible handwriting on pastel purple paper. “Before security texted, I asked if something is stressing you?”
“Um.” Jane shakes out her jumbled thoughts. “Yes…” She takes a breath in preparation. “I suppose the idea that this was a one-time occurrence is weighing on me. I’m not used to one-night stands.” Her eyes drive into me, my chest burning.
Fuck.
“That’s not what this was,” I say and rub my lips. “That’s not what I wanted it to be.” I hate that what she thought we did here was something like a one-night stand. That didn’t even cross my mind.