Akara grimaces. “No. That’s not it, Sul.”

Banks tilts his beer to his mouth. “Why would you even want to invite the Rooster?”

“The Rooster?” Sulli and I say in unison.

I swing my head to Thatcher. He rubs his temple and shoots his brother an annoyed look.

Security Force Omega. They must’ve jokingly coined a code name for Will Rochester. I shouldn’t be too surprised.

Sulli gawks. “What the fuck is that? The Rooster?”

Akara has trouble restraining a smile. “It’s for comms.”

“It’s for comms?” Sulli stands and slugs his shoulder. “He’s not a cock!”

Banks laughs.

Sulli lands a fist in his arm too, and he hardly sways and just grins into a sip of beer. Akara smiles more and places his hands on her broad shoulders. “You’re not the butt of a joke.”

“Yeah but Will is, and he’s not a fucking cock, Kits.”

Banks tips his head. “We’re just callin’ it like we see it, mermaid.”

She huffs. “Yeah? And his cock is probably ten fucking times bigger than both of yours.”

Akara and Banks try not to laugh, and then Banks says, “No way in hell.”

She goes still and glances down at their crotches. I can’t blame her. My curiosity has piqued too, but Sulli flushes a deep red, her breath shallow. She turns to me, an SOS signal in her green eyes.

I pipe up. “Don’t listen to them, Sulli. They’re just jealous that you’re bringing a hot date to Scotland.”

Maximoff crosses his arms, not a fan of Will Rochester. He’s told Sulli to be careful about a hundred times and counting.

“Is that it?” Sulli asks Akara and Banks. “You’re both just jealous.”

Banks raises his shoulder in a shrug.

Akara’s muscles are flexed. “No.” He puts his fingers to his earpiece, as if comms chatter is louder. “I’m your bodyguard and you’re dating someone for the first time. That’s it.”

Sulli frowns. “So you won’t care if I bring Will?”

It takes him a second to say, “If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I fucking want.”

The door whips open, and I hear commotion outside like the bar patrons are loitering. They yell at whoever comes through.

Instantly, I recognize the chestnut-haired, blue-eyed bodyguard. A plastic bag is hooked on his elbow.

“Suck my dick!” Donnelly shouts at the crowds, then shuts them out with the kick of the door.

Akara pushes back his black hair. “Donnelly.”

He spins, noticing me and Sulli. “Sorry, boss.” I can tell he’s off-duty, no radio, and plus, his client isn’t present.

After Donnelly was taken off Beckett’s detail, the Tri-Force transferred him to a Hale.

Xander Hale, to be exact. He’s been working alongside Thatcher this past week. Two bodyguards on one client.

“Smokes?” Donnelly procures a package of cigarettes from the bag, plus a carton of cheesecake.

Banks groans. “Don’t tease me, man.”

I text my sister back while Donnelly greets everyone and slings an arm over Farrow’s shoulders.

I thought some of you were headed to this bar tonight. My mistake. I send the message.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Farrow says coolly to Tony.

I missed something.

Tony smirks, too pompous. “We all know Donnelly shouldn’t be going to Hawaii if his client is staying back home.”

Thatcher retorts, “Donnelly is a groomsman, and Farrow wants him there.”

“Was I talking to you, Moretti?” Tony snaps. “Didn’t think so.”

A bad taste floods my mouth. “Are you four?”

“Twenty-eight, actually.” Tony rests an elbow on the bar and his creeping eyes track down my body.

God.

Thatcher steps forward, and Banks pulls him back.

Tony cocks his head. “And isn’t Xander going to be a groomsman, so does that mean you don’t want him there?” He points at Maximoff. “Or does Xander just not want to be around you?”

More shots fired. That direct hit hurts.

Moffy is stewing. Smoke is coming out of his ears. The truth: Xander requested to stay home so he could go to therapy. He said it’s been helping lately, and he doesn’t want to miss a session.

Farrow has a calming hand on the back of Moffy’s neck.

“Hey.” Akara comes forward and motions for Tony to step aside. He ushers him towards the corner and sneers, “You can’t talk to a client like that.”

Donnelly digs into his cheesecake. “Been waiting for someone to put away Tony the Toolbox.”

“If only permanently,” I sigh.

“Murder with the Cobalt fam,” Donnelly says through a mouthful of cheesecake. “Those who slay together, stay together.”

I eye him. “I meant metaphorical murder.” I pause, curious. “Did you?”

He puts a hand to his chest, grinning and not saying one way or the other, and that’s when the door rips open again.

This time, camera flashes cast shadows on the walls and wind whips through the entryway and more than one body struts inside the sports bar.

First come the bodyguards.

I count five.

And then five famous faces bring up the rear.

Charlie, Beckett, Eliot, Tom, and Ben.

Every single one of my brothers. They’re all here, and they’re far too fixated on Thatcher like he’s tonight’s five-course meal.

8

JANE COBALT

I spring off the stool and clasp Thatcher’s muscular waist. Panic shoots through me, and he curves his arm around my shoulders. Bringing me to his chest before I can swerve in a million frantic directions.

“Jane—”

“I haven’t properly prepared you for the avalanche you’re about to endure,” I whisper rapidly. “It’s my duty to strap you with as much ammo as humanly possible.”

Though, every counterattack of ours will be aimed at my brothers, which is possibly why his eyes darken.

It feels wrong.

So incredibly wrong.

But if they’re coming for my boyfriend, then I’ll have no choice.

“Do not cower,” I coach quickly. “Do not avoid their eyes. Do not show fear. They’re little fiends that will chew you up like you’re nothing more than a three o’clock snack.”

A shadow of a smile plays at his mouth.

“You smile now but they can smell blood in the water, and the second you cut open a weakness, they will poke and prod until you’re bleeding out.” My mind whirls inside a new sort of apprehensive alarm. I’ve never been in this position with my siblings. I’ve never felt like we’re on a battleground and I stand opposite all of them. “They could make you jump naked over a fence for all I know.”

He cups my hot cheeks, his large hands cocooning my face, and it helps me breathe somehow. I curl my fingers over his strong wrists.

“Five teenage boys can’t hurt me, point-blank,” Thatcher proclaims. “I doubt a hundred could.”

I ease some. “Your cockiness is helpful.” Because the sky and Earth know that most of my brothers are tremendously arrogant. “But you do realize that Charlie and Beckett are twenty-one?”

He nods once. “I’m all good. I have this.” He drops his voice lower. “They can’t make me do anything that I don’t want to do.”

I quirk my brows, lips parting. “You would jump naked over a fence for me?”

His complete unwavering, sexy self-assurance says hell yeah.

I rest my chin on his chest, looking up. Could I do the same? I’m not 100% sure, but I want to believe I can make this equal. I have it in me—I know I do.

Somewhere.

And so I say, “As I would for you.”

He gives me a stern look, his hand tracking down my back. “You’d be in tabloids. Naked.”

“A sacrifice,” I whisp

er, my heart flops on a treadmill set at the highest speed. “One I’m certain I can make.”

He shakes his head, his thumb stroking my cheek. “One you’d be uncomfortable to make. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.” I lie, for some reason. I shouldn’t lie. It feels morbid and nauseating, and I’m not positive he can tell I’m being untruthful.

He just stares at me. “We’re not competing for jack shit, you and me.”

“We’re not,” I agree. “This is just something we do together.”

Tags: Krista Ritchie Like Us Romance
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