Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(80)

He yanks the notebook back. “I tried. Still didn’t do well.”

“Ditto,” Luna says and uses one of his Sharpies to draw on her kneecap.

“Didn’t graduate either,” Donnelly adds and erases some of his sketch.

Luna smudges the black ink on her kneecap. “From high school?”

“Yeah.”

Luna glances at him, then me. “I think I’d be okay without high school.”

She has a trust fund. She would be fine, but something needs to motivate her to finish this goal. Most people don’t have the luxury of quitting.

I gesture for the Sharpie that she caps. “Give me.” She tosses it, and I bite off the cap and outstretch her arm on the table. I write the first three lyrics to “Dreams” by The Cranberries across the inside of her arm.

I glance up at Luna. “Being a high school drop-out with no GED is sad.”

Donnelly grins. “You tell her, Farrow.”

“I could secretly be a sad alien,” she tells us with a goofy smile. “My weapon is my tear ducts.”

Hales. I start smiling.

Donnelly returns to his sketch. “Sad Alien would be a cool band name.”

“Uh-huh, think of the Sad Alien merch. Plushies, toothbrushes, condoms, dildos—slogan: I want a sad alien in me.”

I laugh.

“Girl, take my money,” Donnelly says, accent thick.

Luna admires the lyrics on her arm after I finish, then she randomly asks, “Were you two friends with J.P.?”

I cap the pen. “No. I didn’t like the guy.”

“Me either,” Donnelly says.

“He never believed half of what I ever told him. He would always chuckle with an okay, huh-huh like I was stupid.” Luna bites her thumbnail. “But I feel guilty that he got fired.” In a unanimous vote, the Tri-Force terminated J.P. tonight.

I’m not complaining.

“Shit happens,” I say. “Your brother, your parents, and the whole security team would rather you had someone you trusted.”

Donnelly nods.

Quinn is now Luna’s 24/7 bodyguard. When Akara made the announcement tonight, Oscar grabbed his brother by the cheeks and said, “You’re ready for this, little bro. I taught you all I know.”

“I think you mean I taught him everything,” I said. I wasn’t that excited about the shift. Not just because Quinn is easy to be around, but because Thatcher is still temporarily Jane’s bodyguard. I thought he’d be gone by now. Back to Epsilon.

He even made the effort to remind me, “Nothing has changed. I’m still watching you and Maximoff.”

I still have a fucking chaperone.

Donnelly lowers his notebook to erase the pencil, and I notice the flying saucer sketches. That’s not something he would draw.

“He’s giving me a tattoo on the bus,” Luna suddenly fills me in. She couldn’t have told Maximoff because he’d be awake right now if she did. I can’t picture him talking her out of a tattoo. He’s mentioned that he’s surprised she didn’t already have one, but he’d be here for moral support. A hand to hold.

I swig my coffee. “You don’t want to wake your brother up?”

She shrugs. “He looked tired.”

I nod. “He is.”

“I’ll show him in the morning.”

I eye the flying saucer drawings. “What are you charging her?” He usually only does tattoos for money or favors. Never free. I’m glad because he could easily waste his talent on freebies for friends.

“She’s writing me a fic,” Donnelly says and climbs over Luna to go grab his tattoo kit. “She said she could do an original. A shifter story.” He returns and sifts through his ink.

“With hints of extraterrestrial-ness,” Luna adds.

Donnelly opens a brand new needle. “Where do you want it?”

She pulls off her Thrasher sweatshirt, only a bra underneath. Okay, at least she’s not naked. Her brother would flip-the-fuck-out if Donnelly saw her topless.

“I’m thinking, right here.” She motions to her ribs, the spot beneath her green bra.

“I’m no longer here,” I tell them. “If you need me, I’m ignoring you both.” I fit earbuds in my ears and drown them out with Nirvana.

For the first time, I focus on the lawyer’s email, a zip file attached. The number of documents blinks into view. There are a lot.

I skim a few paragraphs. This is the first batch. We’ll send the rest along when we can.

I meant what I said about his number not mattering to me. But I can’t lie, I thought it’d be high—but I didn’t think it’d be this high. More than anything, it means I have a hell of a lot of work to do.

I click into the first attachment.

Name: Caitlyn Rice. Date is about four years ago, and his previous bodyguard included a note with a location. New York City.

I search on the internet for any info. Two minutes later, I conclude that she’s in a sorority, currently dating the president of Alpha Sigma Phi, and she’s in Lake Tahoe for the holidays.

Social media makes it that easy.

Not a threat. I chart the findings in an Excel spreadsheet. Tri-Force wants all the intel documented. I’m in charge of searching his one-night stands, and Oscar and Akara have been looking into Maximoff’s old philanthropy employees. Donnelly even found out that Peaches McEntire is married. Since she has no real motive, she’s less of a suspect.