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.
“Did you just say how are you in Tagalog?” I ask in shock.
“Yeah?” he says in slight surprise. “How’d you know?”
“Como está?” I say in Portuguese. “They sound a lot alike.”
We share a bigger smile, and Jack explains how many words in Tagalog sound or are derived from Spanish, and I know a lot of words are similar between Spanish and Portuguese.
When I’m a few minutes from the thieving bastard’s house, Jack asks, “What if Clifford Flannagan isn’t home? What’s the plan then?”
Charlie messes a hand through his hair. “Go to his work. He’s a gaffer at the theatre where Eliot performs.” He lets out an annoyed breath. “I cancelled my trip to Prague yesterday.”
I look at him through the rearview mirror. “I heard about that.” The temp did alert me that they no longer were headed to the airport.
Jack glances over his shoulder. “Any particular reason you stayed in New York?”
“My brothers.” Charlie slouches. “I had a feeling they were going to pull something.” He’d been hoping Maximoff and Jane would move to New York to deal with his brothers, but in the end, he told them to stay in Philly.
He knew he’d have to play babysitter. And he’s sticking around New York a lot more lately. I can only assume he’s feeling a greater responsibility to protect them and clean up after their mistakes.
Jack nods, rotating back in his seat. “Intuitive.”
“No, they’re just predictable.” Charlie flips his phone in his palm. “Speaking of predictability, I see my set-up had the intended effect.”
“No,” I say, trying to shut this convo down before it starts.
“No?” Charlie bows forward more between our seats. “So you two didn’t kiss last night? Was that a deepfake then?”
“We kissed,” Jack and I say in unison. It causes both of us to smile. And I add, “But not because you set us up.” I don’t care if he put us in the right orbit together; I don’t need Charlie meddling in my life.
Ever again.
“Of course not.” Charlie leans back again. “You two would have definitely hooked up had I not orchestrated it. I’m sure you would have found a way to spend all this time together without me.”
I grit down so I don’t grin at his sarcasm. I’m not a buddy-guard. Not. A. Buddy. Guard.
Jack rakes a hand through his hair, his smile rising.
Charlie taps the window. “It didn’t fully work though, did it?”
“What do you mean?” Jack asks, his face falling. Eyes darting to
