Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Eyes drill into me from every direction. “They’ll check,” I say. “I’m not someone they trust.”
“Will they check today?” Connor questions. “You’ll be in public.”
“Maybe not,” I mutter, avoiding Epsilon. SFE looks at me like I’m the scum of the earth, and I hate feeling like a worm.
Akara asks, “You could use today as a stepping-stone to gaining your dad’s trust?” He poses it to me like a question. “Maybe later, once he trusts you, no one will check for a wire.”
“Yeah. Might work,” I tell him.
He nods to me with a friendly half-smile. His eyes dart to Epsilon. Their snide glances are apparent from the corner, and I watch my boss go to Price. Few seconds later, Price is ordering his men to stop.
That’s all he says.
“Stop.”
It’s only enough for Epsilon to shift their gazes off me, but the heat and ridicule still exists.
I’m used to it, but not exactly in this setting. Not with Lo and Connor and their lawyers present. Not as the focal point of the day.
“Take your shirt off,” someone tells me.
Think it’s Price. Can’t be sure. My head is whirling.
Akara nods to me.
I peel my shirt off over my head. Chest bare, I have Thatcher and Bruno (Lo’s 24/7 Alpha bodyguard) taping a wire to my skin. The high-tech gadget has no bulky battery pack. Just the thin wire and a tiny mic.
My muscles burn. I stand so still and try not to breathe too heavy.
Gazes bore into me and trail over my scattered tattoos and my nipple piercings. If Connor and Lo weren’t here, I have no doubt SFE would’ve already said something about ‘em.
“You’ll wear your normal radio, but your comms mic will be off,” Thatcher says. “Your earpiece is connected to this other mic and recorder.”
The one taped to me.
Got it.
My bodyguard radio is basically a dummy. Unusable. There for show.
Thatcher continues, “You’ll be on a designated frequency for this op, and the mic is going to be hot. We’ll be able to hear everything, but he won’t know that.”
I force myself to focus and not go into a daze.
Akara is close to me as he says, “If your dad asks, you’ll tell him the earpiece is just comms for your client. No one can hear you unless you click the mic.”
I nod, understanding.
I’m supposed to rat out my dad. They want me to catch him or a cousin or someone spilling their foul deeds so it’s recorded and admissible in court.
Only problem, I can’t see them confessing anything to me. Not unless they strip me down and hose me off like Colin did. But Akara is right, this lunch could be a stepping-stone, a building block, a path towards trust. It’s gonna have to be.
Because this set-up might be the only shot I have.
Once the wire is attached, I tug my shirt back over my head.
“Let’s clear the room,” Connor says to someone. “I only want Price, Akara, and our bodyguards present. The rest can wait in the library.”
“Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere,” Lo says to another person, and it takes me a second to find him in the crowd. He’s speaking to Farrow. “You. Stay.”
Everyone begins to filter out of the office, but Connor also calls out, “Thatcher.” He motions the unshaven, stoic bodyguard to return to the room, and the door shuts.
It’s clear they called back their sons-in-law.
They’ve got special privileges, and Triple Shield is not gonna love that. But I’m not penciling in caring about their feelings in my daily planner.
Right now, the room has quieted. Tension still stretches in the air. I don’t know what’s next.
“Take a seat, Donnelly,” Connor says. A chair is already waiting for me. I didn’t see him pull it over.
This is my first time in his personal office.
I know, it surprises me too, considering I used to be an honorary Cobalt.
Self-proclaimed, but I figured I was meant for the lion’s den. Not whatever animal hidey-hole the Hales are living in. My feelings have shifted so much, I have vertigo—dizzy at the realization that I couldn’t care less about being here.
I just wanna be with her.
This is what it’s going to take. And I need to keep everyone safe. I have to.
“Yeah, sure.” I walk towards the leather armchair. With fewer people around, I have a better view of the space.
Gotta admit, his office is different than I’ve imagined. Less modern. Less sleek. Robust wooden bookshelves line the deep blue walls, and a gas fireplace crackles in the corner where leather club chairs remain empty.
Everyone else is standing.
I take a seat, my muscles more strained than I like.
His wooden desk presides over the homey office. It reminds me of Yale’s library. Collegiate and warm. Outside the window, leaves of an oak tree have turned golden orange, like flames licking the glass panes.
Connor has a tablet in hand. “Our PIs can’t gain us access to your family the way that you can.”