Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(88)

It looks real.

My gut says someone just painted this bus. Outside. Right now.

Fucking hell.





32





FARROW KEENE





I move towards the stairs, unclipping my gun from its holster. “Stay here,” I tell Maximoff.

He’s right behind me, of course.

“Maximoff.”

His jaw sharpens. “I get that I can’t follow you outside, but Donnelly can.”

“No. He’s distracted tonight. I’m not bringing him as back-up.” I unlock the bus doors.

Maximoff tugs at the collar of his sweatshirt. He’s more than frustrated. His nose flares, and he shakes his head repeatedly. He hates this. Waiting back. Feeling helpless when he’s trying to keep me safe.

It hurts me knowing how much this is killing him. But… “I shouldn’t be your bodyguard if you won’t let me do my job.”

He takes a tight breath. “Alright. Go.”

“Lock the doors behind me.” I toss him the keys and leave the bus.

My boots fall hard on pavement. I scan the VIP area. Valets aren’t at their podium. No bodies wandering. I check the bus.

Clean.

The other side faces hedges, and I carefully circle the bus, passing the hood.

No one here.

The exterior is clean.

I only relax when I check the rear and the eight other vehicles parked here.

Safe.

But it looked real.

My gut is usually right. The worst part: I’m disappointed. If I knew who this son of a bitch was, it’d end the unknown. And I wanted to end it tonight.

I return to the bus. Maximoff stands with crossed arms on the first step, and as I approach, he unlocks the doors from the inside.

“What was it?” he asks.

I hand him my phone and then sit on the armrest of the passenger seat.

Maximoff studies the photo and drifts towards the driver’s seat. He barely blinks, and when he looks up, I see clearly that his concern lies with me.

“This is really getting to you,” he says. “Isn’t it?”

“No.” I holster my gun and take my phone back. “I’m fine.”

He rubs his mouth and lowers on the edge of the driver’s seat. He’s looking everywhere but at me.

“Just say it.”

His tough eyes hit mine. “You’re not sleeping.”

“I’ve always had weird hours. Anything else?” My tone is a lot more strict than usual.

We’re both stubborn. I’m not going to quit my job unless I’m doing worse than the best, and right now, I’m still the best damned bodyguard. No one would be better for Maximoff than me.

He pulls off his sweatshirt, hot. “Are we fighting?” he asks seriously.

I ease a little bit. “You tell me, wolf scout.”

He shakes his head. “Christ, I care about you, Farrow. And you’re sitting there, denying that the stalker is affecting you. But I’m around you every goddamn day. I can tell.”

I comb my hands through my hair, and I let out a deeper breath. “It’ll be over once we identify the person.” I’m confident about this.

But Maximoff stares at me with uneasiness. “There’ll always be another stalker. Another anonymous troll. It doesn’t fucking end. I’ve come to terms with that—”

“It’s going to end,” I say assuredly. “This is different, Maximoff. It’s a real threat.” The stalker is from Philly. They know where the tour stops are located before they’re announced. It’s serious.

His gaze turns to the windshield. Thinking.

“And I’m glad you’ve come to terms with it,” I tell him. “Because it’s my job to care about the threats. Not yours. So let me do my job—”

“I am,” he combats. “Jesus Christ, I’m watching you down Ripped Fuel and stay up past 48-hours.” He laughs a dry, pained laugh. “And you know what, I’m starting to think that makes me a terrible boyfriend.”

My chest hurts. “It doesn’t.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, and he holds my gaze. “Selfishly, I don’t want to lose you as my bodyguard. It might be the most selfish thing I’ve ever fucking wanted in my life. But I need you to do something for me.”

“What?” My eyes are burning.

“If being my bodyguard while being my boyfriend is hurting you, step back.”

I run my thumb over my lip piercing. “You mean quit.”

“Yeah. Can you do that?” He means, in the future. If it comes to that. I’ve never lied to him, and I’ll never start.

“No,” I say matter-of-factly. “I can’t do that. Truth, I’d run my body in the ground to do my job well, but several hours of sleeplessness is nothing.”

His face twists in deep, agonized thought. “I keep thinking that if I really cared about your health, I’d just fire you.”

I shake my head.

He’s searching for the right path, even if it costs his happiness, but fuck, he doesn’t need to make that sacrifice for some arbitrary “moral” good.

“No,” I say easily. “You don’t need to fire me to protect me. Just set down the sandbags for these hypotheticals. Because I’m okay, and the shit sleep I’m getting is going to end. All you need is to believe that.”