Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(120)

For Donnelly and Thatcher and Quinn, it’s all they’ve ever known. There was no college. No other place.

It’s been Philly.

Always Philly.

Some people connect to a specific town like it’s a person, a tangible part of them that they can’t remove, and I’ve seen that in Donnelly’s eyes.

“Say I’m from L.A. one more time!” Donnelly threatens. Since our fame originated in L.A., that’s what some uninformed dipshits believe.

Thatcher starts yelling at the heavyset fucker on the end. He’s that irritated, and being off-duty is making him chuck the rulebook out the window.

Oscar whispers to me, “South Philly guys are going to get us kicked out.”

“No shit,” I whisper. “You better add your little brother in that.”

Quinn curses loudly, edging into an asshole’s face, but Akara fists his shirt and draws him backwards.

We’re all trained to deescalate situations, but it’s easier doing our jobs when the insults aren’t directed at us.

Oscar shakes his head and hunches over the table with his stick, lining up while this conflict is brewing. “SFO haters know the bare minimum. We’re famous bodyguards. We’re hot. That’s about it. Everything else they invent to fuel their hate.”

“True.” I lean on the pool table, half-sitting.

He breaks and the balls scatter the green felt. Suddenly, he straightens up, more alert as the most vocal, bearded fucker approaches me.

I don’t shift.

This guy nods to me, about my height. “You think you’re hot shit?”

I chew my gum. “I know I’m hot shit.” I can feel Oscar’s harsh glare drilling into this guy from behind me, the rest of Omega minutes away from a real fight, too.

The bearded dipshit takes one step towards me.

My jaw hardens. “Don’t get in my face,” I warn.

“Farrow, Oscar!” Akara calls out. He’s wrangled our two South Philly guys, plus Quinn, into a booth and the other hecklers loiter back at the bar. Impressive. And one reason why I’m not the Omega lead.

Before the dipshit can hook me into a fight, I back up and take the long route to the booth with Oscar. We slip in the cracked leather seat, and Akara stays standing at the end.

“I’m not gonna miss that about the tour,” Donnelly says to Quinn. I catch them mid-conversation, and he picks through a bowl of half-eaten nuts.

“What?” I ask for the topic.

He pushes the bowl aside. “Laundry.”

I chew my gum into a smile. “You can’t miss something you never did.”

Donnelly laughs.

“That was the worst,” Oscar tells me. “If I never have to see another laundromat or hotel laundry bill again, I’ll die a happy man.”

The bartender squeezes through and leaves us six bottles of beer. “On the house for not starting anything with those guys over there,” she says. “Manager thanks you.”

As she leaves, I pick up a bottle, and in my peripheral, I notice the bearded guy trying to capture my gaze at the pool table. The more beer he chugs, the less likely he’ll let this shit go.

“Okay, listen up.” Akara steals everyone’s attention, still standing. “I have three announcements to make.”

I bet I know one of the three.

“First,” he says, “if you haven’t heard already, Luna is moving into Maximoff and Jane’s townhouse. Which means Quinn is now back at security’s place with you two.” He gestures to Thatcher and me.

Knew that.

I raise my beer to Quinn. “Welcome back.”

He clinks my bottle, plus the other guys who start to cheers. We all swig.

Akara sets his bottle down. “We decided that since Luna is staying with her brother, it makes more sense to have her bodyguard remain on Omega.”

I figured that Quinn wouldn’t be shifted to Epsilon. They’re not equipped to train him, and Akara had been trying to keep Quinn in SFO even when Luna left the tour.

“Second…” Akara rotates towards Thatcher, who’s been quiet at the booth, sipping his beer. “Thatcher signed a permanent contract to be Jane Cobalt’s bodyguard this morning.”

Shit.

We all thought he’d eventually return to Epsilon and Xander Hale’s security detail. It’s why he remained a lead and part of the Tri-Force during the tour.

“Because of that,” Akara says, “he can’t be a lead anymore. The lead has to come from Epsilon, and Banks is taking his spot.” Thatcher’s brother is now the third voice of the Tri-Force.

Thatcher gave up his power and his higher pay to stay in Omega and on Jane’s detail.

But that fact isn’t what makes me smile into my swig of beer. We now earn the same amount of money, on the same level in the bodyguard hierarchy. We’re now equals.

Fuck, that feels good.

Thatcher lets out a heavy breath at me. He hates that I love it.

“Third and last thing,” Akara starts.

“Hey, pretty boy!” a drunk heckler yells at Donnelly. “Why don’t you take that thing out of your nose and shove it up your ass?!”

That insult doesn’t incite any of us.

Akara grabs his beer. “Tri-Force agreed that we can all keep our jobs and be famous, but it’s coming with a cost.”