Page 64 of Sinful Like Us

O’Malley frowns. “You’re new, Tony. You don’t understand how things work around here.”

Tony shrugs. “It has nothing to do with me being new. In my opinion, sleeping with a client shouldn’t even be a rule.”

My blood temp skyrockets, and I can’t shut my mouth. “I don’t need you defending me.”

Tony sets a glare on me. “The fact that my opinion leans in your favor doesnotmean I’m defending you, and what the fuck are you even doing here?” He motions to me with an angered hand. “This is a meeting for Scotland, and you’re not going on the trip.”

That’s what you think.

“Akara asked me to be here.” My voice is like hard cement. “You’re still on your probationary period with Jane, and I want to make sure you’re squared away before you leave.”

Fuck you.

Fuck off.

I force these back. Professional, stay fucking professional.

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.

But Tony and O’Malley can’t know this.

Farrow and the rest of Omega whisper at the boxing bags. In their own conversation.

“It is what it is,” I tell Tonyprofessionally. “In another month, your probationary period will be over, and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

Donnelly laughs at something.

My senses are ringing, hyper-vigilant to any movements and sounds. I catch O’Malley looking past me and my brother. His eyes blazing on Omega.

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.

Banks whispers to me, “This is gonna be a shit show.”

I stay alert and uncap a water bottle. “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.” He swallows a gulp, and we hawk-eye Epsilon. “Incoming,” Banks says under his breath.

O’Malley takes an affronting step forward.

I block his path. “Don’t.”

He ignores me and raises his voice. “You shouldn’t be here either, Donnelly!”

Laughter dies.

Farrow pops his gum, Oscar’s hand freezes in a bag of Bugels, and Quinn solidifies midway in a sit-up.

“What’d you say?” Donnelly glares.

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.

“I said, you…shouldn’t…be…here…either,” O’Malley repeats annoyingly slow. “Your client isXander Hale.He’s staying in Philly, so you’ll be in Scotland as a friend of Farrow’s, not as security. And this is asecuritymeeting.”

Farrow cuts in, “Donnelly has to be here in case we need extra hands. It’s that simple.”