Fearless Like Us (Like Us 9)

“What’d Sulli say?” I ask him quietly.

“She wanted to come with us.” He hangs onto the edge of the door. “I told her to stay. Talk with her dad. She may not get another chance like this.”

I nod, feeling the same.

Just as Price rolls up to the curb, we climb into Booger. Akara gives him a polite wave on our way out of the neighborhood. As far as we know, Triple Shield doesn’t have a clue about our relationship. Not about to spill those beans tonight.

We make the short drive to the hotel. It’s late. Sun set, and tomorrow we’ll have a full day of destroying the penthouse top to bottom in search of any bugs. I’m just looking forward to getting some shut-eye tonight.

My back is fucking killing me.

At the front desk, I stretch my arms backwards, and Akara pulls out his wallet. “One room for tonight.”

The receptionist clicks on the computer, barely looking up from the screen. “King or two queens?”

Akara glances at me for a split-second.

Gun to head, my initial reaction is king. We’ve been spending almost every night in Sulli’s bed together. She’s been on a monsoon period, and all we’ve done is curl up against her.

And every night, I keep thinking I should’ve been in a relationship sooner. I love just holding Sulli in bed more than I’ve ever loved a one-night stand.

Then again, she’s the only girl I’ve ever wanted to hold all night long.

I curl my hair around my left ear, then right. How strange will it feel having a bed all to myself? But Sulli is gone, and Akara and I—we’re not physically intimate with each other. Should that make a difference?

“What do you think?” Akara asks me for advice.

Screw it.

“I’d get the king,” I tell him.

Akara nods to the receptionist, “The king is fine.”

Again, she’s superglued to the computer as she collects his credit card.

Entering the elevator, quiet stretches. I turn my head, half expecting to see Sulli standing between us. Her absence leaves a crater.

A fucking abyss.

An emptiness that I hate. It makes me want to be less and less alone. Akara sees the same space where she’d be, and his gaze lifts to mine.

We’re friends. The two of us will always be friends, but I can’t deny that the three of us share something I can’t quite explain. None of us really can.

I dig in my pocket. Not for cigarettes.

Really, I want to smoke, but Akara, just being here, is helping me dick-kick my vice. I don’t want to smoke in front of him.

Instead, I pull out a travel-sized Tylenol and pop two without water. Swallowing hard. Christ, that sucks.

Akara tenses. “You have a migraine?”

“No, I fucked my back running around the woods.” I arch my aching back with a wince. “Don’t ask me what I did because I don’t know.”

“Migraines, back problems, anything else I should know?”

“I have a suspicious looking mole on my ass. Wanna check that one out too?”

Akara fits his baseball cap backwards. “For your health, yeah.”

“I’m not going anywhere, man.” Our gazes are latched, almost in challenge. Me saying, I’m fine. Him saying, you better be.

The elevator beeps.

After a short walk along the hall, Akara unlocks the hotel room with a swipe of the keycard, and I close the door behind us.

“You can take the shower first,” he says. “I have to make some calls.”

“To my dad?” I pull off my shirt.

“He’s one. Yeah. And then I have to call a team who deals with surveillance technology and make sure they’re still available tomorrow to help sweep the penthouse.”

How he juggles all of that and still stays upright, I don’t know. I couldn’t do it. “Anything I can help with?” I ask him as I step out of my jeans.

He’s already dialing a number. “I have it. You shower.”

Don’t need to be told twice. Leaving him in the bedroom, I head for the warmth of the water. When I finish up, I dry off and tie a towel around my waist. Once I exit into the room, I hear Akara on his phone.

“Yeah, it’s nine thousand square feet.” He sits on the edge of the mattress, his windbreaker and hoodie off, just in a Studio 9 tee. He sees me and stands up. We pass each other as he heads to the bathroom. “I’m aware it’ll take more than a day.” He shuts the door.

Hell, I feel alone.

I wonder if this is how Sulli feels when she’s alone with Akara. Or if she’s able to help him pull away for a second. It’s not even his fault.

It’s the job.

A time-suck that’s sucking him dry.

I change into gray boxer-briefs, hop into bed, and scroll through the TV channels. Battle Ring, a pro-wrestling show, wins out, and I watch a couple of guys tussle against the ropes. When the smaller guy lands his finisher, Akara exits the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist.