Page 64 of Spies Like Us

He breaks off as I reach up and push a lock of hair behind one of his ears. “You snore like a bear.” He looks down at me and wrinkles his nose. “A very loud, smelly bear.”

My mouth drops open, and I’m fucking mortified. Did I fart in my sleep? Oh my god!

“Gosh, you’re an asshole. You just can’t help yourself.” Ry pushes him, and he falls back onto the bed, removing his arm and leg from my body. “He’s lying. You were so cute, and there were a few snuffles, but definitely kitten snuffles, and absolutely no farts,” he reassures me.

“You’re my next favorite after Lathan,” I tell him, rubbing a hand over my sleepy eyes as I try to work out what time it is or even why he’s here.

I sit upright and look around, a wave of panic rushing over my body. “Fuck, is it home time? Martha thinks we’re coming home on the bus. It’s Friday night. She has the night off, and we have to do everything.” I start scrambling to push the blankets off, but somehow, I’ve become completely entangled in them.

Ry reaches out and stops my frantic struggle. “Hey, whoa, relax. It’s only lunchtime. I came back to check on the two of you. I brought some food,” he explains, and I feel my panic recede as I flop back on the bed.

“Oh, cool. Okay, thanks,” I say as his eyes fix on the shirt I’m wearing.

“How did you end up in one of my shirts?” he asks, sounding slightly amused and possessive.

“Fuck, don’t overthink it. It’s what was close, and she didn’t have anything comfortable,” Miller mutters, and both Ry and I look at him skeptically.

“Weren’t you wearing a baggy band shirt this morning?” he points out, and as I nod, Miller flips him off. Ry smirks, and his phone starts to ring. The smirk gets wider when he sees who it is and answers it.

“Hey, Percy, what’s going on?” he answers, and a small squeak leaves my mouth. I grab the blankets and yank them up over me as he turns the call into FaceTime. I feel him climb onto the bed and sandwich me between them.

“Hey, boys, how are you?” I hear my dad ask, but before either of them can answer, I hear another voice, and my stomach sinks.

“Oh, Ry and Miller! Both my boys! I am so lucky today.” My mother sounds delighted.

“Hi, Sadie. How are you?” Ry replies, but it’s Miller’s words that have me melting.

“Marhaban ya ‘umu qalb,” he says to my mom in Arabic. Hello, mother of my heart.

Her reply has tears welling in my eyes, and I have to smother the sob that escapes. “Mrhbaan ya fataa aldhahabi.” Hello, my golden boy. Fuck, I had no idea. No wonder he was so hostile to me.

Obviously I wasn’t quiet enough, though, or I moved too much, because the next words have me wincing.

“Is there someone else in your bed under the blankets? I can see something moving,” she asks.

“Would you believe we got a puppy?” Ry asks.

“Well, I would say you’re probably smothering it,” I hear my dad say, and I know we’ve been busted. I take a deep breath and push the blankets back to see my parents smirking at me on Ry’s phone screen.

“Hello, parentals,” I say dryly, and Dad chuckles while my mom squeals and claps her hands together.

“I knew it! I knew my girl wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off all that gorgeous male flesh.” Both Dad and I cringe, and Miller and Ry shuffle uncomfortably.

“Miller and Mac spent the day napping before the private party tonight,” Ry explains. “They finished at the club at about four this morning.”

My mom’s delight disappears at the reminder of what tonight has in store for us, but Dad nods his approval. “Good thinking. Did you all input the trackers I sent?”

“Yeah, Anders did them Sunday night. We won’t be able to remove the stitches for a few days, but we used the excuse that we got new tattoos. Nobody has questioned it,” Miller tells my dad.

“Good, and Lathan and Dayton will be monitoring everything that goes on through your earpieces, and both Ry and Max will have cameras in buttons on their shirts so we can record everything you see.”

I wince, and Dad sees it. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and I sigh.

“Look, I understand why it needs to be recorded, but can you have one of the techs or someone else watch it? If we have to do what I think we have to, I don’t want to know you’re on the other end of that camera.”

My dad blanches, and my mom smothers a giggle. “Fuck no. Of course I have someone else watching the footage. Neither of us need those kinds of scars.”

“Thank God,” I hear Miller mutter under his breath, and I feel my body relax.

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