Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Maximoff groans into a frustrated growl. “He didn’t take advantage of me. Yes, I’m a celebrity. Yes, he knows private shit about me because he’s my bodyguard. Did he ever use his position to seduce me or blackmail me or hurt me? Never.”
Rose perches her hands on her hips. “But we hire bodyguards to protect our children.” She sets a fiery glare on me. “Not fuck them. For your betrayal, your heart should be fed to the wolves.” She extends a hand to her husband. “The knife, Richard.”
Connor lowers her arm. “Let’s shelve the hyperbolic murders, darling.”
Maximoff tries to steal his dad’s attention, but it’s skewering me. “Dad, I’m twenty-two. I make my own choices, and I chose him.”
“How long?” Lo asks me, ignoring his son to grill me. “Did this start before you were assigned to him—”
“No,” I force the word.
Lo considers this for a moment before saying, “I don’t trust easily. And I gave you as much as I give family, and you just shit on me, on Lily. For what?”
“For what?” I repeat with the shake of my head. For what. “I’d do anything for Maximoff. I’m here, willing to sacrifice a career for him. Because I care about him, I want to be with him. And I’m sorry that I broke your trust, but I can’t lie to you or Lily. Given the opportunity, I’d do it all again.”
I’m in love with him.
I haven’t said those words to Maximoff yet, and he’s not hearing them for the first time while I speak to his dad.
Lo stands uneasy, but they all hear what I’m saying.
“I’m telling you right now,” Maximoff says firmly to the room, “you’re not firing Farrow. None of you are. He’s still going to be my bodyguard.”
Connor speaks. “For that to happen, your relationship would need to remain secret from the public.”
Ryke cuts in, “Who the fuck said he’s staying in the security team and on Moffy’s detail?”
“Who’s going to fire him?” Maximoff rebuts. “You?”
Ryke glowers at me. Like he wants me to quit. And just shove another bodyguard into Maximoff’s arms? Fuck no.
“I’m not quitting,” I tell him. “And we’re fine keeping this from the public.”
“You still crossed a line,” his dad says, “and there needs to be repercussions.”
Maximoff motions to Lo. “Again, you’re not—”
“This is a security issue,” his dad declares. “We’ll let security make the call. If they think Farrow isn’t fit to be your bodyguard and it’s too dangerous, then he’s gone. And that’s goddamn diplomatic of me.”
Before Maximoff speaks, I tell his dad, “Fair enough.”
I sound agreeable, but security has more reasons to fire me than they do to keep me. Plus, I’m betting Price and Thatcher would just love to replace me with an uptight do-gooder. Basically, someone who’d never lower their radios, argue or have sex with a client.
And I’m honestly not sure if Akara and the rest of Omega will vouch for me or turn their backs. My actions reflect poorly on SFO, and if they’d rather remain an untarnished, respectable Force, they’d transfer me.
Here’s what I know: I can be fired from the whole team, just transferred to another person’s detail, or they could put me on probation.
It’s all up in the air.
42
FARROW KEENE
I have no gun and no radio.
Security commandeered both while they evaluate my standing on the team. I accept change better than most people, so I naturally have trouble feeling “dread” when I meet a crossroads. But I see what I may lose. Almost like a cumbersome nostalgia, staring up at a beloved college and knowing in a minute I may never step foot on campus again.
I may lose those late-night SFO meetings at Studio 9, the lighthearted jabs over coms, being kept in the loop on private issues, the overwhelming Cobalt, Meadows, and Hale pride we all share, and this tight-knit team who willingly, wholeheartedly sacrifice their time and lives to protect three families.
I zip up my leather jacket, a December wind rustling maple trees and sweeping through the Smoky Mountains. We’re not at Camp Calloway anymore.
When the Camp-Away officially ended yesterday morning, Maximoff didn’t want to return to Philly right away. There’s only one place the families use as a sanctuary away from the media and public.
A four-story lake house hidden in the Smoky Mountains.
Fifty-miles of winding gravel and dirt reach a peaceful place the families visit for holidays and summer. The cherry roof blends into the thicket of maple trees, the leaves bright red before they fall.
I’ve been here before. Only one mile to the east, they built another house for security. Essentially, we help keep the acres and acres of land private from the public and media—and any sightseeing cars looking to drive down random gravel roads.
I descend the house’s porch stairs and hill, heading towards the lake.
Jane and Maximoff sit on the edge of the dock together. Glittering water reflects the landscape of mountains.