I reach out and clasp his hand in mine. His carriage lifts at the touch, and while we lace our fingers, I say, “Yeah, it has a shrill ring. I’m gonna put a mute on that one.”

Jack smiles more. “Come on, it’s catchy. Homewr—”

I cup my hand over his mouth. “Muted, meu raio de sol.” I love my dramatic-ass nickname that is too damn accurate for Jack.

He laughs against my palm, and the air lightens when we return back to the remnants of the party.

“How many people were here?” I ask, watching as Jack lets go of my hand to check his phone. He mouths, Jesse.

I nod, and he leaves to take his brother’s call in the hallway.

“Four people,” Tom answers, collapsing on the singed couch. “Barely even a party.”

Charlie snorts. “Four is the most Beckett and I would let you invite.”

I stroll around the place, inspecting nooks and crannies where a smart “guest” would’ve planted hidden cameras. “Where is Beckett?”

“He stayed at our parent’s place,” Tom explains.

“Because he knew he’d wake to this.” Charlie lights a cigarette. “And this isn’t even the problem.” He looks back to me. “Luna’s fanfic was swiped.”

I roll to a halt by the bookcase. “What?”

“It was stolen, robbed, pilfered,” he clarifies.

Thank you, not.

“I know what swiped means.”

Charlie skips over that. “I need to retrieve it, but I don’t have the last name of the guy who stole the manuscript.”

This is a major fucking problem.

“Ian or Vance should know,” I rebut. Tom and Eliot’s bodyguards aren’t completely incompetent, and even though they’re Epsilon, I’ve worked with them long enough that they’ll supply me a name.

Something’s still not adding up. I look to Charlie. “If you weren’t home last night, where were you?”

“I was on the roof.”

Of course he was. Because why not?

Eliot starts buttoning up a black button-down. “We’re coming with you.”

“No you aren’t,” Charlie says, cigarette smoke billowing from his lips with the words.

“Luna’s our best friend, if something of hers was stolen, we’re going to help retrieve it.” Eliot tucks his shirt into black slacks. “It’s our duty.”

I really need my radio.

“No,” Charlie tells him. “You both have done enough. You’re staying here and cleaning this fucking place so that Beckett doesn’t lose his shit. And I will go find the fanfic with Oscar and Jack. Understood?”

Tom and Eliot exchange a look, before Tom says, “As you were.”

Eliot nods. “We’ll concede. This time.”

Charlie rolls his eyes, then snuffs out his cigarette on the singed couch.

I’m already heading to the door. Leading the way.

Radio attached, comms on, gun holstered, and the thieving bastard’s name in my possession, I leave the Hell’s Kitchen apartment building without socking the Wreath brothers in the face.

Call me mature. An adult.

Still can’t believe they iced me out of the party, but at least they gave me the thief’s home address. Saved me time tracing it myself.

I drive a security SUV. Charlie is gazing out the window in the backseat, and Jack is messing with the air conditioner in the passenger seat. It’s a sauna in here.

I switch lanes, trying to shake off a paparazzi van on my ass. Glancing at Jack, I realize how strange it is to see him without a camera. He’s here for me. For Charlie.

Not for Born into Fame.

Traipsing around New York for a stolen manuscript isn’t his job, but I can’t tell him to go home. I like Highland too much in my company, even more when clouds start shielding his sunshine. Because I just want to cheer him up somehow. Make him feel better. Take his mind off the negativity, and I can’t do that if we’re split apart.

Jack shuts off the A/C. “It must be broken. It’s only blowing heat.”

“You have Banks Moretti’s number?”

“Yeah.” He unpockets his cell.

“Will you text him and let him know it needs fixed?” Banks is the resident mechanic, and Akara has been trying to save money for the new firm wherever he can.

“Sure. How will he know which car?”

“SFO calls this one the Black Widow.”

He smiles while he types.

My phone lets out a ping. It’s already docked on the dashboard, but I can see a notification for a few missed texts from Farrow and Donnelly. I reach over and click into them, and I’m careful to keep my eyes on the road as I read quickly.

You and Highland. Cute. Didn’t expect it, but super happy for you, Oliveira. Don’t listen to the negativity. We’ve got your back. – Farrow

Get that ass! And fuck the haters. You’re fire. Jack is fire. Together, you’re a big ball of fire – Donnelly

I can’t help but smile at my friends’ reactions. Their steady, loyal friendship is the best I’ve ever had, and I’m glad they’re here for me.

I glance over as Jack says, “Kumusta ka?” He’s on the phone. After a couple minutes, he hangs up.

Tags: Krista Ritchie Like Us Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net