Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

Oscar swigs a Ziff sports drink and reads, “Dear Charlie, I want to have your babies. She left her phone number.”

“Can’t blame her.” Donnelly reaches for a new package. “Who wouldn’t want to have some Cobalt babies?”

Thatcher casts a reprimanding look but stays quiet.

I spin a knife between my fingers and then point to myself with the blade. “Me.”

Donnelly grins. “That’s just because you’re all up in that Hale dick.”

I laugh into a smile, about to dish it back—and then the unknown stench unleashes itself tenfold. We all recoil.

“It’s this,” Quinn chokes and coughs into his bicep. He just flipped the flaps to a cardboard box, the contents not visible. Everyone is asking what was sent to Luna.

I’m about to stand off the barstool and see for myself. But Quinn starts taping up the package. Then he rises to his feet and places the box in Luna’s wicker basket—

“Whoa!” all of us basically shout some sort of expletive.

Quinn ignores us. Leaving the package in her good mail.

Thatcher glares at me, as though I caused the youngest bodyguard’s “bad” behavior from my short “mentoring” days. I’m not taking the blame for this shit.

I glare back at Thatcher.

I quit.

Slinging those two words out in anger is not what I had in mind today. I bite my tongue hard.

“It’s not trash,” Quinn says, still choked from the smell. He coughs into his fist.

Akara digs in the wicker basket and inspects the taped package.

“What the fuck is it?” Oscar asks.

Quinn takes a seat around his mail piles. “Really shitty perfume that spilt.”

My brows spike. “Sounds like trash to me.”

Thatcher crosses his arms. “Farrow, you should’ve instructed Quinn better. Told him that liquids need to be thrown out.”

I did.

His assumption that I didn’t grates on me. I grit down to keep from spewing out, I’m quitting, you fucking tool. Instead I say simply, “I’ll keep that in mind.” While I stand, I rest my shoulders up against the brick wall.

Thatcher uncrosses his arms. He looks surprised that I’m admitting fault.

Akara carries the perfume package to the trash bag.

“Wait!” Quinn springs to his feet and extends an arm, an angered scowl crossing his face. “Just wait a fucking second. I know what I’m doing.”

Akara raises his shoulders. “Quinn, we don’t allow liquids—”

“Luna asked me not to,” Quinn retorts. “I get that I haven’t been a bodyguard as long as any of you, but I’ve been here long enough. And I fucking know if a client asks you to do something, you do it. Sometimes, even if it’s illegal—”

“No,” Thatcher says sternly. “Not if it’s illegal. You can say no.” His glare drills into me again.

I’m starting to believe Quinn Oliveira wants Thatcher to murder me.

I still lean casually on the wall. And to Thatcher, I say, “I never told Quinn that he couldn’t say no.” That implication is not even close to who I am.

“Wait a sec,” Akara interjects, box in hand. “Quinn, did Luna specifically ask you not to discard liquids?”

Quinn scratches his unshaven jaw. “No…I was trying to keep this private, but if you all have to know…” He motions to the box. “Luna asked me not to throw anything away that’s from her boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

Voices collide together, everyone asking the same shit.

I peel off my gloves and then comb my hair back. If anyone had known about Luna Hale suddenly having a boyfriend, it would’ve been her older brother.

And Maximoff knows nothing.

I question whether this “boyfriend” is real. “Have you seen him?” I ask on top of the mounting questions.

“When?” Donnelly asks.

“For how long?” Akara wonders.

Quinn runs two frustrated hands through his thick, wavy hair. “MyGod,” he snaps. “Shut the fuck up and I’ll tell you!”

We all go quiet.

Quinn breathes out. “It’s been about a week.” He shifts his weight and before Akara asks, he says, “Yeah, I did a background check. The guy panned out.”

Donnelly slips a pen behind his ear. “Does he live in Philly?”

“How old is he?” I ask.

“What does he do?” Oscar adds.

Quinn hangs onto the fireplace mantel. “This stays between us.” He tries to send a warning look my way, but I’m not having it.

“I’ll tell you upfront,” I say easily. “There’s absolutely a hundred percent chance that I’ll share this with Maximoff.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend. It’s as simple as that.”

Oscar leans forward on his stool. “Redford can leave the room. I want the fucking details.”

“Same,” Donnelly says, unsnapping his gloves. Just to remove his septum piercing.

Quinn expels a breath and then nods to me. “It’s alright. Stay. I’m guessing Luna will tell Maximoff soon, so it shouldn’t matter.” He starts unleashing the news. “So the guy is named Andrew Umbers. Twenty-two. He’s originally from Houston but now lives in Philly. He created some kind of start-up for a parking app. And yeah, I’ve seen him.”

Everyone is quiet. Processing.

Thatcher straightens letters in his hands. “Did Luna tell you not to share?”

“No…I have no fucking clue what she’d think if I told everyone,” Quinn admits. “And look, before you guys say anything, you should know that their dates have consisted of eating takeout at his apartment and listening to NPR. It feels like he’s just using her.”

I grit down. I’m not happy about anyone using these families, let alone the Hales. This is exactly why most of them have trust issues. And I sense the real irony here: the public believes I’m using her brother for fame.

But I’m not going to apologize for loving him. And wanting to be with him.

We all talk about Luna and the intentions of her new boyfriend. Mainly ways to protect her, and I hang back and look at each guy.

This is it.

I’ve had some of them in my lives long before I joined security. So I’m not losing them. But I am leaving behind Omega. The camaraderie, the brotherhood. A protective force of men who will jump into the wildfire, no questions asked.

And I’ve been here before. Way back when, I believed I’d lose my job once the families and security found out I was with

Maximoff. I was ready to accept that, but there is more peace in choosing this path now than being forced here back then.

“Redford,” Oscar calls out. “What’s going on?” He’s been reading into my features.

“I have something to say.” I comb both of my hands through my hair and step off the brick wall. My shift in demeanor causes the living room to go silent.

Akara is confused.

I didn’t tell anyone in advance. Not even the Omega lead, and that’s mostly because I need this to be less of an ordeal. Just quiet and easy. Not a big mess.

“This isn’t about Luna,” I start off. “I appreciate everything you’ve all done for me so I could remain my boyfriend’s bodyguard.” I glance briefly at Thatcher. Because back in December, he was the deciding vote that helped me keep my job.

He’s scowling like I’m far from genuine.

If I didn’t believe those words, I wouldn’t have said them.

I swing my head to the Omega lead. “And Akara…o’ captain my captain.” I wouldn’t call anyone else that but him. “All the times you’ve put your neck on the fucking line for me, I was grateful then and I’m still grateful now.”

Akara nods. “You’re quitting security, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m quitting. I need to finish my residency.” And before they ask, I add, “Not for my father, but for me.” I first look at Donnelly.

His lips slowly lift, unlit cigarette in his mouth. “We’re getting our Meredith back.” He slow-claps.

I smile. “Man, you know I’m a Christina.”

“I don’t get it,” Quinn mutters.

“It’s Grey’s Anatomy, little bro,” Oscar says, clapping with Donnelly before he walks over and pats my shoulder, bringing me in a hug. He whispers in my ear, “We’re going to keep your guy safe. Don’t agonize over it.”

I already have been.

A hell of a lot went into this choice. And I look at ease, but he knows this is far from easy for me. Someone else will be filling the job description of protecting Maximoff Hale. As his boyfriend, that job should be mine.

I protect the people I love, and choosing the medical path sometimes feels at war with protecting Maximoff. But I have to remember that I haven’t lost that ability. At the charity auction, I was there for him as his boyfriend in the end. Not as his bodyguard.