Sinful Like Us (Like Us, #5)

by Krista Ritchie

He turns to Charlie. “I’m not doing this here.” “Yes you are.” “Charlie,” he pleads. “Let me go.” Charlie can’t look at his twin. He eyes me, in need of an assist.

“Adderall terrorizes my OCD! Okay?” Beckett rubs his palms together, then clutches his thighs. “Cocaine doesn’t.”

He’s blunt and honest, and I don’t expect Beckett to hold back—but he does this time. He just keeps shaking his head. I’m not an idiot. I clutch the table and careen forward to be closer to him. “You think I have no room to talk because I’ve never strived for anything like you? Because I have no talents and no ambition like you?” His reddened eyes lift to mine. “I give everything to ballet. My time, my body, my life. What have you ever given to something you’ve loved?” “I’ve given all of myself to my family,” I retort, tears burning my eyes. I’m the older sister. I carry the torch that lights the way, and if I drop it, no one behind me can see. “And I don’t care if you can’t see that—but there is a reason you never told your best friend you use.”

“Fuck that,” Sulli cringes. “Jane is right. You didn’t tell me because I’m the one person who chose a sport over a childhood and I’m the one person who can tell you fuck your excuses.”

We did not plan for a friendship to blow to smithereens tonight.

What have you learned, children? Whoever asks this directs the game to those younger than them.

Eliot rises. “It was all decaying.” Tom leans back. “I can feel us fraying.” Ben opens his mouth to finish the poem. His eyes start filling with tears. And he buckles forward and cries into his palms. My heart tears to shreds. Usually Beckett is the one to console our youngest brother. But his face contorts in pain, and he pushes out of the booth. Leaving.

But quickly, I slip into the booth and hug Ben. He cries into my shoulder. “He’ll be okay, Pippy,” I whisper, and I look up at Thatcher. He crouches so we’re more eye-level. “I’ve asked Akara to put my brother with Beckett tonight. He agreed.” Banks is doubling up on Beckett’s detail. I breathe easier. Banks will look after Beckett. I know Thatcher’s brother has been drinking, but definitely not enough to be more than buzzed. “Thank you,” I say, my torn heart mending in a strong beat. He nods and then holds out his pinky. “I promise we won’t fuck this.” He means forcing my brother on a plane. It’s going to take strength and terrible might. Together.

One hand on Ben’s head, I use my other and hook my pinky to my boyfriend’s. He kisses my knuckles, and my heart rises with a smile that shouldn’t exist. Yet, he’s summoned one out of my soul. Reaching deeper inside me than anyone ever has or could. And it’s terrifying.

It feels like I blow my shot to hell with every card flip. I piss off or irritate at least one Cobalt.

But Jane, the sweetest thing my arms have ever held—she’s fit for heaven. She was restless after the eight-hour mark but she persevered. The good: she was beside me. The fucking weird: she had to strip in front of her brothers. But it’s not like they planned for her to be a part of the game. And she wouldn’t let them alter the tasks for her. The cards almost made me forget about the parasite attached to my girlfriend.

I narrow my gaze on him with intense warning. If he repeats what he just said, we’re going to have a fistfight before this meeting even begins.

I feel the fracture between the two Forces more heavily because I’m the one who cracked a cavern between them.

I deserve his rage. I deserve a lot of bad shit coming at me,

I don’t fucking care. I did break a rule, and if this is one of the many consequences, I plan to bear the onslaught for as long I need to. But if someone wrenches Jane into this, I will end them. That’s my line. Clear in the motherfucking sand.

It hurts even knowing that months ago Farrow was in this exact position. And I was the asshole on the other side, berating him. Karma—it’s got its hands wrapped around my windpipe. I want it to choke me.

Bile rises to my throat. Tony defending me right now feels about as good as being run over by a cement truck. On any other topic, maybe it would be a bridge to rebuild our relationship, but him being calm and nonchalant about bodyguards sleeping with clients—it tweaks my nerves. And I can’t even call him out on it without sounding like a raging hypocrite.

Tony crosses his arms, sweat staining his blue tee. “You’ve been breathing down my neck all month, Moretti. At this point, you either trust me to do my job or you don’t.” A part of me does trust him—I hate that I trust him. It’s why I can’t rip him away from Jane’s detail, but I’m not even here to triple-check Tony (though it’s a perk). I’m here because I’m the one traveling to Scotland, not Banks, and I’d rather be in this meeting than have Banks regurgitate everything back to me.

Honestly, I wish O’Malley wasn’t here, but he’s Beckett’s bodyguard. And Charlie has confirmed that Beckett is still using cocaine, so the plan to make Beckett go to Scotland is intact and waiting to be executed.

“Dealing with shit shows is what we do.” I take a swig and wipe my mouth with my wrist, then I hand him the water. His lip quirks. “What you and Akara do,” he corrects. “I’m just your cowboy.”

Oscar removes his hand from the snack bag and clutches his friend’s shoulder. Keeping him back. Farrow leans casually on a boxing bag, tattoos inked on his neck and chest. Intimidating in his relaxed demeanor. He pops another bubble with his gum.

“He gave that corner to you, O’Malley,” Farrow says easily. Oscar chimes in, “We heard no one even wanted your free blow jobs.” Donnelly smirks. “Need tips?”

I can’t apologize for falling in love with her. I can’t call what happened a mistake. Gun to my head, I’d repeat every moment so I’d have the boldest, smartest girl next to me—a girl I shouldn’t have. But she’s mine, and I might not deserve her but I swear to God, I’ll never harm her, and I’d give my life to protect her. I know I’m not a prince. I’m not a king. But I’d treat Jane like she should be treated. She’s my princess, my angel, and my queen. Every morning and every night. I’d kneel at her feet and stand by her side.

“Leaving out some facts isn’t lying.” Banks sticks up for me, but I shoot him a look across the gym. I’m not putting him in this mess. He shakes his head and lets out a frustrated noise. He doesn’t want me to take the fall for all of it, but I’m ready to go all the way down.

Being with Jane is the most right thing I’ve ever done.

“So you’re saying that if I find myself in a room alone with Luna Hale, and she comes onto me, I’m in the clear to fuck her. Right there. Down and dirty on the floor.”

Oscar looks murderous. Farrow straightens up more than usual. He places a hand on Donnelly’s chest. “Ignore the fucker.” “He’s been asking for a fight.” Donnelly boils. “He’s gonna get hit—” “Come here then,” O’Malley goads, but his attention veers to Luna’s bodyguard. “You can’t talk about my client like that,” Quinn growls.

I see the fist coming. I can’t move. My feet are forced to the fucking mat. Cemented by guilt and blame, and his knuckles smash into my lip. Bitter iron of blood floods my mouth. People yell around me. “Heyheyhey!” I hear my brother. My head spins, the surrounding chaos and my bottled emotion igniting boxes in my head. Boxes that I’ve stapled shut for years. Senses tweaked, my eyes are narrowed, unable to close. I hear rounds firing in violent succession. My pulse ratchets up. I turn my head, but I have tunnel vision. This—this hasn’t happened before. Not while I’m awake. Fuck me. “Back up!” “Let go, O’Malley!” I blink into focus and realize O’Malley is fisting my damp black tee. Banks tries to shove between me and him, and I react like I’ve pressed play on a paused movie. I block my brother and let O’Malley crush another fist into my body. Pounding into my shoulder. Fuck. Banks tears him off me. My adrenaline accelerates, chest rising and falling. Farrow and Oscar drag me from the fight. My brain is screaming to protect my brother, who’s standing on the firing line. “Banks!” I call out. Banks. O’Malley shoves my twin brother, and Banks pushes him angrily back.

O’Malley is just one person I hurt. But he’s one of many. Everyone on Epsilon feels like I betrayed their trust, their respect, but the person I betrayed the most is standing right there. And the look Akara gives me now—it cuts me open and spills out my insides. It hurts the absolute worst.

“Who punched Moretti?” He’s asking who should be fined three-grand. Bodyguards can’t hit other bodyguards without punishment. No one speaks. No one points fingers. With an inhale, I announce, “I started the fight.” I touch my lip. It’s already swelling. “You can fine me.” Banks gives me a hard look like you idiot. O’Malley frowns. Akara wears even more disappointment. Price nods. “Will do.”

I can barely blink, and I can almost feel her curious hands sliding across my waist. I can almost see her rising smile peek around my body, and her chin perched on my side. Her eyes glimmering up at me with uncommon strength. I want to turn around and lift her in my arms. To press my forehead to her forehead and stare into the bluest depths of her gaze. But she’s not here. She’s back at the townhouse. The sound of a leaking shower bleeds into the quiet. Drip. Drip. Drip. It drives me insane. I scrape a palm down my wet face. My hand is shaking. Christ, I just want to hear her voice. I should compartmentalize my feelings and shove off. But I pull my phone out of my pocket. Without much thought, I’m calling Jane. Like this is an ingrained reaction. Jane picks up on the second ring. “Thatcher? Is the meeting already over?” I can’t move. I stare at the faucet. “Thatcher?” Her voice pitches in worry. “It hasn’t started yet.” I grip the sink with one hand and swallow a rock. And then I rehash everything that happened with the team. I promised myself I’d never hit another bodyguard, and even if I was provoked, I shouldn’t have pushed O’Malley. With every word I say out loud, I’m sure that I’m painting myself as the biggest villain. “It’s good that he got a punch in,” I continue. “I just don’t want my brother in the middle of it.” I don’t want her in the middle of it either. But she’s on the phone, and I don’t want to hang up. I just want to hear her. “You don’t deserve to be punc...

Farrow Keene has become one of the only people on the team I feel safe enough to talk with about PTSD, because he’s experienced some form of this shit too.

Makes more sense, and this fog starts clearing. He didn’t have to come in here and talk to me, but I appreciate it. “Thanks.” “No problem.”

I take a beat. “No. Banks doesn’t have PTSD.” Just physical pain. My brother still hides his frequent migraines from everyone. Hell, he covers up most injuries.

His lip rises, entertained at the absurdity of this situation. “You really want me to hit your brother?” “I’m not forcing you,” I tell him. “But yeah.” I trust Farrow. I’ve always trusted him. And I need him.

One breath later, he slings his knuckles at my brother, landing with precision on his mouth. His head whips to the side, lip broken open. I force back a stabbing pain. We planned this, I remind myself. But seeing Banks hurt will always hurt me to some degree.

Sinclair grimaces. “Which one of you shit-tickets hit him?” “I fell, sir,” Banks lies. SFO is smiling. I focus more on the Alpha lead, Price’s glare drilling me with fueled disappointment. I hear Jane. I’m very, very proud of you. Remember that. I’m trying. My chest rises. “You fell?” Sinclair knows my brother is bullshitting, but he nods and says, “Stop tripping over your damn feet, gent.” “Yes, sir.”

And the only way to make this okay in my head is to ensure we’re not tricking people who matter to us. Her parents—Banks can’t run into Rose and Connor Cobalt. And Xander—he has to know the truth. Hell, even if we didn’t tell him, I think he’d notice that Banks isn’t me.

“I trust Banks with you,” I say with everything I have, “and right now, I need to be with Jane.” It’s never felt more necessary. I can want and desire my girlfriend, but I need to be the man at her side come Scotland. Not Tony. Not her brothers. Not Maximoff or Farrow. That man has to be me. She wants a teammate, and she needs to see that we’re meant to stand at the end of the line together. That no matter the circumstances, I’ll rip through shackles and be there for her—always. Forever. That word stuns my churning brain and ripples through me like life-threatening voltage. Forever. I’m barely hanging onto now with Jane. I can’t think about more.

Because my older brother never did. And if I do anything in my life, Lord, let me have this. Helping Xander live when I couldn’t do the same for Sky. You should’ve biked harder. You should’ve biked harder. You should’ve fucking biked harder. My jaw tics. I shove down my dad’s crushing voice,

His mouth falls. “You really don’t think you’ll get caught? You two don’t look that much alike, man.” The corner of my lip inches upward, just slightly, because Xander genuinely believes Banks and I look different. “That’s probably because you grew up around us. For other people it’s harder to tell the difference. Even worse when we’re not standing together.”

Xander immediately springs to his feet and steps away from the skateboard. Aiming for the door like he plans to hunt down his mom. “Hey.” I extend an arm and block the door before putting a light hand on his elbow. “It’s normal—” “That’s not alright.” A thousand emotions pour out of his expressive eyes. “They’ve known you and Banks for years.” “My uncles have known me my whole life and some still call me Banks on accident.” I reassure him. “It happens, kid. It doesn’t mean they don’t care.” If I let that shit hurt me or affect me, I’d be in pain every week.

I’m good at multi-tasking, but that girl could surpass the hell out of me every time. I linger on that thought and almost smile. Together we could juggle the world.

All of SFO, Jack Highland (an exec producer of the docuseries), and the older famous ones: Jane, Maximoff, Charlie, Beckett, Sullivan, and Luna. Mainly everyone who joined the FanCon tour.

I fix my eyes on my client. “Then it’s information you need to keep secret.” He licks soda off his lips. “I can do that.” I nod strongly, confident in this kid, and I watch his features lighten.

He can barely meet my eyes. What I feel for Xander…it’s as deep as blood, but I’m not his brother. I’m not permanent to his life in that sense, and I’ve tried… I’ve tried fucking hard to make sure he understands this. I’m replaceable. Banks is replaceable. We should just be nameless bodyguards on a team to Xander, and one day another bodyguard will stand here and take our post. He shouldn’t bat an eye or even notice a real difference. His life should continue at the same rate without misstep or back shuffle. Being on his detail again—I’m blowing a fuse that I already struggled to tear out of a bomb. Confusing him and me.

I’m going to go where Jane goes. I want to. I need to. I have to. Everything in my soul wrenches me in that direction. Hell, it’s been wrenching me for a while. Before I was even her bodyguard.

I’m fighting through a steel castle just to be welcomed into the Cobalt Empire, but the closer I am to them, the further I am from the Hales. Every time the three families have trivia nights, sandcastle competitions, relay races—I want to be on my girlfriend’s side. And it’ll be a feat to make it happen. Team Cobalt. Team Jane. But I can’t stand hurting Xander.

His eyes redden. “Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I just wish I could have all of you. Moffy, Farrow, you, and Banks. I know it’s selfish.”

“I didn’t plan on loving Jane.” I couldn’t stop it from happening. And now I’m doing everything I can to keep her in my arms.