Donnelly wants the extra week to ensure everyone’s safety, but I’m ready to tackle “murderers” and “rapists” every day, every hour.
“Tri-Force already made a decision,” Akara says, “and we agreed to Moffy’s terms. Seven days for a background check.”
Donnelly groans.
Oscar curses.
Quinn falls into deep contemplation.
I’m smiling.
Akara leans back on his hands. “It’s not the end of the fucking world. Any threats that get into the event, we’ll detect and isolate there. The Hales, Cobalts, and Meadows trust us for a reason. We make few mistakes, and we never fail.”
Before they talked to Maximoff, the Tri-Force wasadamantabout changing the raffle. Now they’re gleefully content with his plans.
The guy has a way with people. I’m so impressed, my cock actually pulses.
11
FARROW KEENE
Declan left his replacement—whichturned out to beme—a short note.I hadn’t thought hard about Declan’s words, hiswarning,until the end of September. Until today.
Until Maximoff invited his three siblings and five of his cousins to mini-golf. Until everyone except Jane cancelled when they saw social media: paparazzi and crowds amassed, jumping onto the putt-putt green, like they caught sight of rock stars or English dignitary.
And then Maximoff firmly and concisely said, “We need to leave.”
We’d only been there for a half hour, and he’d spent the priorthreehours coordinating the mini-golf outing for his family.
Being forced to drop set-plans that quickly would piss off most people.
Maximoff just pivoted and created a new one in seconds. He signed the golf balls and putters for the mini-golf facility to sell, and then he spent the next hour taking selfies with fans and Jane. I spent that time detaching overwhelmed, sobbing girls and guys off his waist.
When we finally climbed into his Audi, I expected Maximoff to sigh in exhaustion. Maybe express frustration. His mom would’ve been tired, a little upset.
Instead, he seemed just as prepared for anything, and he said, “Let’s find a pub. Jane will meet us.”
Declan should’ve written:Maximoff Hale will barrel through every circle of hell and come out unscathed.
He actually wrote:everything in Moffy’s life is short-lived.
9:12 p.m. we shake off paparazzi and discover a hole-in-the-wall Irish pub around South Philly. After I ensure the place is safe, we order our food and drinks at the bar. They say they’ll bring it to us shortly.
We claim a low wooden table in the very back. Cigarette smoke clouds the cramped, dimly lit area, and a soccer game airs on the only TV. Engrossing several old bearded men at a high-top table, plus the bartender.
I lean back on two legs of my chair and casually examine our surroundings, but I find myself looking at him.
Maximoff reads a text. “Jane and Quinn are still fifteen minutes away.”
I open my mouth to reply, but a voice infiltrates my right ear. “Omega to Farrow.” I drop on all four legs of my chair and press my mic. “Farrow.” My eyes lift to Maximoff who watches intently. Like he’s never even overheard his old bodyguard speak to security before.
Maybe he hasn’t.
I’m not about to excuse myself from the table to speak to Akara. I don’t care if Moffy listens to a conversation that’sabouthim.
In fact—I pop my earpiece out, hang the cord over my shoulder, and then I swivel the volume knob on my radio. Increasing the sound.
His brows furrow, confused.
