Page 94 of Alphas Like Us
I spin a knife between my fingers and then point to myself with the blade. “Me.”
Donnelly grins. “That’s just because you’re all up in that Haledick.”
I laugh into a smile, about to dish it back—and then the unknown stench unleashes itself tenfold. We allrecoil.
“It’s this,” Quinn chokes and coughs into his bicep. He just flipped the flaps to a cardboard box, the contents not visible. Everyone is asking what was sent toLuna.
I’m about to stand off the barstool and see for myself. But Quinn starts taping up the package. Then he rises to his feet and places the box in Luna’s wickerbasket—
“Whoa!” all of us basically shout some sort ofexpletive.
Quinn ignores us. Leaving the package in her goodmail.
Thatcher glares at me, as though I caused the youngest bodyguard’s “bad” behavior from my short “mentoring” days. I’m not taking the blame for thisshit.
I glare back atThatcher.
Iquit.
Slinging those two words out in anger is not what I had in mind today. I bite my tonguehard.
“It’s not trash,” Quinn says, still choked from the smell. He coughs into hisfist.
Akara digs in the wicker basket and inspects the tapedpackage.
“What the fuck is it?” Oscarasks.
Quinn takes a seat around his mail piles. “Really shitty perfume thatspilt.”
My brows spike. “Sounds like trash tome.”
Thatcher crosses his arms. “Farrow, you should’ve instructed Quinn better. Told him that liquidsneedto be thrownout.”
Idid.
His assumption that I didn’t grates on me. I grit down to keep from spewing out,I’m quitting, you fucking tool. Instead I say simply, “I’ll keep that in mind.” While I stand, I rest my shoulders up against the brickwall.
Thatcher uncrosses his arms. He looks surprised that I’m admittingfault.
Akara carries the perfume package to the trashbag.
“Wait!” Quinn springs to his feet and extends an arm, an angered scowl crossing his face. “Just wait a fucking second. I know what I’mdoing.”
Akara raises his shoulders. “Quinn, we don’t allowliquids—”
“Luna asked me not to,” Quinn retorts. “I get that I haven’t been a bodyguard as long asanyof you, but I’ve been here long enough. And I fucking know if a client asks you to do something, you do it. Sometimes, even if it’sillegal—”
“No,” Thatcher says sternly. “Not if it’s illegal. You can sayno.” His glare drills into meagain.
I’m starting to believe Quinn Oliveira wants Thatcher to murderme.
I still lean casually on the wall. And to Thatcher, I say, “I never told Quinn that he couldn’t say no.” That implication is not even close to who Iam.
“Wait a sec,” Akara interjects, box in hand. “Quinn, did Luna specifically ask you not to discardliquids?”
Quinn scratches his unshaven jaw. “No…I was trying to keep this private, but if you allhaveto know…” He motions to the box. “Luna asked me not to throw anything away that’s from herboyfriend.”
Boyfriend?
