Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(31)

“I realize that.” I comb a hand through my bleached hair. “You know Kinney Hale would’ve stabbed you in the eye for calling her ex-girlfriend not serious.”

Oscar motions from his chest to mine. “You and I know puppy love isn’t serious. What is she, nine?”

“Thirteen.” I run my hand over my jawline. “She’ll ‘revoke’ your membership to that Rainbow Brigade shit if you’re not careful.”

Oscar almost laughs, and he reties a rolled bandana around his forehead. “It’s not real until she makes pins.”

“Tell her that.” I glance at Akara who finishes chatting with someone on a bunk. He motions me further down the hall and into the second lounge.

Before I follow, Oscar lowers his voice another octave. “Seriously though, I know Maximoff is one of the hottest celebrities, and I can imagine what the sex is like—”

“No you can’t,” I say easily.

His mouth parts. “Now I’m gonna need details.”

I let out a short laugh and glance at Akara, who’s waiting. “Oscar—”

“You have to ask yourself,” he whispers, “if dealing with these families on a personal level, not professional, is really worth it. Because I know you, you’ll get in the trenches and fight until you die. But now’s the time to step out while you still can.”

I chew my gum slowly and shake my head. “I’d never commit, fuck a guy, then break up. And I’m not about to crush him because I’m scared of his family when I’m not even a little bit afraid.”

“And your lack of fear makes me uneasy,” Oscar says outright, “but you do you, Redford. When this crashes and burns, it’ll be my turn to take you out for drinks.”

I roll my eyes. He broke up with his long-term boyfriend in college, and I took him to a bar so he’d stop texting Darrien.

And I may’ve bought him one Corona.

Without another word, I finally make my way to the second lounge. Only Akara here.

He rests against the tabletop and snaps his fingers to his palm. “So first thing, did you read the SFO email?”

“Yeah.”

Thatcher sent the email to all of us at the crack of dawn. I barely skimmed the words, but I can recite the entire “memorandum” by heart.

SFO Rules on Tour (not to be negotiated or disputed):

1. SFO will take shifts driving the tour bus. Since Paul Donnelly & Quinn Oliveira failed the driver’s test to operate the bus, only Akara Kitsuwon, Farrow Keene, Oscar Oliveira, and Thatcher Moretti will drive. Thatcher has been behind the wheel for the past hour.

2. The tour bus acts as a “home on wheels” and for this reason, you’re considered “off-duty” on the bus. You’re not required to wear radios on the bus, but you must immediately wear them once you step off. Keep your phones charged in case Alpha or Epsilon need to reach you.

3. Bus doors must be locked at all times.

4. Alert the driver if your client leaves the bus. Always join your client. Don’t leave their side.

5. Any guests must be vetted before allowed on the bus. NDAs are required.

6. We’ll drive through nights, so please be respectful of those sleeping. Don’t bang doors.

7. Some conventions will include overnight stays at hotels. Bodyguards must stay in the hotel room with your client. It’s likely some clients will want to room together (i.e. Sulli & Jane) – make note of this.

8. There are nine men to two women. Please respect their space.

9. Recognize that the tour crew isn’t allowed on the bus. You are. Understand this honor, and ensure the protection of your client.

10. Lastly, remember the hierarchy. You have any concerns, bring them to Akara or Thatcher.

“Good,” Akara says. “Thatcher wanted to make sure you didn’t just delete it.”

“Of course he did.” I notice the severity in Akara’s face. “What’s wrong?”

He checks over my shoulder, but no one is eavesdropping. Then he whispers, “Tech team traced the IP address of the Instagram account. The user is from Philly.”

I don’t blink. “The probability that they know Maximoff—”

“Is a lot higher,” Akara finishes. “The user blocked the tech team, and now there’s a firewall stalling us.”

“Shit.”

“Possible motives for someone to make a personal ‘death threat’ account would be revenge.” Akara pauses as the bathroom door swings open, and we both shift. Our backs to the hall. “Omega is going to quietly work on unmasking the anonymous user, and while we gather intel, don’t obsess over the account.”

I frown. “How is the account still active? We flagged it.”

“We need it to stay live now,” Akara explains. “If the user really is plotting to hurt Maximoff, that account is the only evidence we can track.”

I nod, my gaze searing. Everything inside of me craves and pleads to solve this now and free Maximoff from a threat. To keep him safe. Protect him.

But I’m on a bus.

Headed towards a sleepless city, and his fast-paced life isn’t stopping for anyone.





10





MAXIMOFF HALE