Page 13 of Alphas Like Us
“Technically, you’re the only one holding the door,” I say, half-interested because in my peripheral, I watch Maximoff shake his head repeatedly at the organizer and force out the wordno.
Adrenaline pours through my veins, goading me to go tohim.
“No one’s a doorman,” Akara says as he texts on his phone. “We’re guarding the entrance.” He pockets his cell, subtly reminding us of the stipulation we all agreedto.
Security Force Omega gained a decent amount of public fame after the Hot Santa video leak back in January. Tumblr pages are dedicated to Oscar’s little brother alone, and some fans will ask for our autographs when we’re on-duty with ourclients.
To keep our jobs in security, we all agreed to a big change:no working large scaleevents.
Now it’s the middle of May, and Alpha is attached to our respective clients tonight. Protecting them. And we’re here doing a job that temp security could easilydo.
I lean back casually on my heels and spit my gum in a trashbin.
Akara glances down the line of us, from Thatcher to Quinn to Donnelly, me, and Oscar. “Any of you want off-duty? Because you’re all free to leave at anytime.”
No one moves amuscle.
The fee inside this event costs two grand. Out of our price range, and we all want inside to keep an eye on our clients from afar. Even if it means being regulated to securing theentrance.
By the way, that entry fee is one that Maximoff would never set. This is an event that Maximoff isn’t even running. One that he’d never construct in alifetime.
One that has been unequivocally contentious from thestart.
I study the escalating argument between Maximoff and the organizer. The middle-aged man seethes, his face beet-red, and he sneers a response through gritted teeth, slicing the air with his arm atMaximoff.
As though to sayno.
And then he clutches Maximoff’s shoulder—that’s enough.I leave my position and head down the red-carpeted leftaisle.
Several rows of wealthy pricks had been snapping photographs of Maximoff instead of the string quartet, and their lenses start to swerve towardsme.
“Price to Farrow.” The Alpha lead’s voice blares through my earpiece. “Return to your position at theentrance.”
Maximoff’s muscles flex. He places a palm on the organizer’s chest to keep the man at arm’s length, but they’re both speaking over each other. Violinists drown out their verbalfight.
I never reach for my mic toreply.
“Price to Farrow,” Price repeats. “Maximoff has a bodyguard on his detail tonight and it’s not you. Return to yourposition.”
I’ve seen the SFA bodyguard hovering ten feet fromMaximoff.
I even know that bodyguard. Bruno Bandoni is a fifty-two-year-old silent type with the stature of a heavyweight champion. Bald and bearded. I used to work alongside him in Alpha, only because he’s the 24/7 bodyguard to LorenHale.
I don’t hate Bruno, but he’s one of the more regimented men and he’s not fond of me. Tonight, that’s definitely notchanging.
“Akara to Price.” Akara speaks through comms. I’m too far away now to hear the Omega lead without my radio. “Let Farrow check on Maximoff. He’ll only take aminute.”
The event organizer hoists a threatening finger at Maximoff, one angered motion from grabbing hisface.
Motherfucker.
“Omega isn’t making these calls atthisevent,” Price says through comms while my stride lengthens. “Alpha is in charge, and Farrow, if you reach Maximoff, then you’re officially off-duty tonight. You can stay here as security or as the boyfriend to Maximoff Hale.Choose—”
The forty-year-old’s freckled hand clutches Maximoff’s sharpened jaw, and I’m close enough to hear the man spit, “Listen.”
Instinct rams me, and I sprint the last two feet, wedging my body between them—just as Maximoff tears the unwanted hand off his face and then swings. I catch his fist in my palm and walk himbackwards.
Come on, wolfscout.
