Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

Tony grimaces. “Jesus, Banks.” He shifts his weight, his eyes tightening in emotions that I don’t recognize. “You’re still pissed at me?”

I’m unblinking. “My brother almost died in a fire trying to save you when you should’ve never gone back in there at all, so pissed is putting it mildly.”

Tony’s nose flares, staring at the ground. “I’m sorry for what happened, and if I could take back that night, I wouldn’t run into the fire.” His eyes meet mine. “Can’t we put this in the past?” He’s about to touch my shoulder, but I smack his hand away. He lets out a short, frustrated laugh. “I expected this from Thatcher, but aren’t you supposed to be the shy one?”

I glower.

Fuck him, man.

Fuck him.

I was a shy kid, but that attribute should not be attached to me at twenty-nine when I’ve never been a shy adult. “Aren’t you the dickish one?”

Tony snorts. “That’s right, you’re the funny one.” He swigs his beer. “Before you came stomping over here, I was just going to ask Thatcher if he wants a whiskey flight. On me and the Ramellas.” He gestures to our family at the bar.

I make eye contact and the guys nod to me.

“Hey, paesan’!”

“Youse heard about them Eagles, Thatcher?” a cousin calls out.

“That’s Banks, you scustumad’.” Another cousin called him stupid.

“Fuck me, sorry, Banks!”

Tony laughs and tells our cousins at the bar, “It’s the same thing. They’re basically the same person—one is just getting married first.”

They all holler and cheer for Thatcher.

Every word out of Tony’s mouth rakes across me. Grating my brain like shredded meat. It shouldn’t eat at me that much considering I’ve heard all that horseshit growing up, and I thought I moved past it. The off-handed “they’re like the same person” comments.

How I’m one half of one person instead of a whole fucking individual. While I silently fume, I know not to cold-cock Tony and tear apart our families. I manage to corral Tony back with the others at the bar. Leading him away from Thatcher.

“Gloria’s really officiating the wedding?” a cousin asks me.

“Yeah,” I answer, “with Rose.” Both my mom and Jane’s mom will be marrying off the happy couple. I make a quick exit after I diss the Eagles, knowing they’ll boo me away.

“Get outta here!”

“Ah fuck youse, Banks!”

I leave, just as Akara approaches.

He eyes my cousins and the curses that trail after me. “You need backup?”

I shake my head. “They’re harmless.” Though, I think of Tony. I dig in my pocket for a cigarette. “Christ, I can’t believe Tony is Connor Cobalt’s bodyguard.” I stick a cigarette between my lips. “Why doesn’t he just can his ass already?”

“Because Tony’s related to his future son-in-law,” Akara says like the answer is clear as day. “If he tells Price that Tony isn’t working out, what is your family going to think of the Cobalts?”

They’ll think that the Cobalts only care about the Cobalts, and not the whole family. Which includes the Ramellas.

They’ll never forgive the Cobalts.

“Fuck,” I mutter, cigarette in my mouth while I fumble for a lighter.

Akara shakes his head. “I wish you would quit.”

“I already did,” I remind him.

He tries not to smile and digs in his pocket for his buzzing phone. “I wish that stuck.” His face sobers as soon as he sees the name on his phone screen.

“Who?” I ask.

“Loren Hale wants to talk.” He checks his watch. “I have to call an SFO meeting.”

“Now? Really?”

Akara says, “Your brother wants to hold one too. Think of it as a bachelor gift to him.” The fact that they’re both so ready to jump into a meeting during a party reminds me that they’re best friends.

“Fuck it.” I light my cigarette. “Let’s get some.”

41

AKARA KITSUWON

Outside the lodge, the Montana land rolls towards foggy mountain peaks, and a fall breeze passes through the ranch. Quinn Oliveira zips up the hoodie underneath his blazer.

I like Quinn a lot, but man, do I wish he didn’t take after Farrow. The maverick, the rule-breaker. It’s hard enough having one on the team. It’s even harder when Quinn tries to go rogue—because I really don’t like being tough on him. He’s the only guy on Omega who’s younger than me. So disciplining him feels like disciplining a little brother.

I’d rather just guide him. Teach him.

Thankfully, he’s here for the team meeting and I didn’t have to go flag him down somewhere.

I snap my finger to my palm while all of SFO gather on stone stairs that lead to the brewery we just exited. I stand before them. At the bottom, but I don’t need to be towering over them to wield authority.

They know I’m at the top.

Thatcher and Banks sit side by side on the middle stair. Banks smokes on a cigarette, ignoring Thatcher’s side-glares, but they’re both quiet, waiting for me to start.