Page 123 of Tangled Like Us
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 lettingme inside his apartment.
I stand silently on guard in the wide hallway of the 21stfloor. 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 withoneSFO 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 from2166.
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.
“See, this is why I try to stay out of Cobalt Empire drama,” Farrow says, leaning a shoulder casually on the wall and looking from Oscar to Donnelly. “It leads me to an empty hallway with you two motherfuckers.”
Oscar grins, only wearing gray sweatpants. Inked script lines his golden-brown skin along his collarbone, and his curly dark-brown hair is disheveled like he just passed out for an hour. “You’re just pissed because the Fiancé isn’t here.”
Farrow tilts his head. Not denying.
“Don’t be sad, Redford.” Oscar squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sure Maximoff will give you a pity blowjob later.”
Farrow smiles. “You’ll have to explain to me what apityblowjob is, Oliveira. Never had one before.”
“Donnelly can explain it to you. It’s all he ever gets.”
