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Nobody Like Us (Like Us Series: Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 13) Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie full chapter instant download
Nobody Like Us (Like Us Series: Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 13) Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie full chapter instant download
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Contents
Title
A Note From the Authors
Character List
DECEMBER
1. PAUL DONNELLY
THREE DAYS EARLIER
2. PAUL DONNELLY
3. PAUL DONNELLY
4. LUNA HALE
5. PAUL DONNELLY
6. LUNA HALE
7. PAUL DONNELLY
8. LUNA HALE
9. PAUL DONNELLY
10. PAUL DONNELLY
FANATICON FORUM
DONNELLY’S DAILY PLANNER
11. PAUL DONNELLY
12. LUNA HALE
13. LUNA HALE
14. PAUL DONNELLY
HOLIDAY TASK LIST
15. LUNA HALE
16. LUNA HALE
17. LUNA HALE
18. LUNA HALE
19. LUNA HALE
20. LUNA HALE
21. PAUL DONNELLY
22. PAUL DONNELLY
23. PAUL DONNELLY
CHARLIE & LUNA’S TEXT THREAD
24. LUNA HALE
25. LUNA HALE
26. PAUL DONNELLY
27. LUNA HALE
JANUARY
CHARLIE & LUNA’S TEXT THREAD
28. LUNA HALE
29. PAUL DONNELLY
30. PAUL DONNELLY
31. PAUL DONNELLY
CHARLIE & LUNA’S TEXT THREAD
DONNELLY’S DAILY PLANNER
32. PAUL DONNELLY
33. PAUL DONNELLY
34. PAUL DONNELLY
FEBRUARY
FANATICON FORUM
DONNELLY’S DAILY PLANNER
35. PAUL DONNELLY
36. PAUL DONNELLY
37. LUNA HALE
38. LUNA HALE
39. LUNA HALE
40. PAUL DONNELLY
41. PAUL DONNELLY
42. PAUL DONNELLY
FANATICON FORUM
EMAIL FROM THE TRI-FORCE
DONNELLY’S DAILY PLANNER
43. PAUL DONNELLY
44. LUNA HALE
45. LUNA HALE
46. PAUL DONNELLY
47. LUNA HALE
EMAIL FROM SAM STOKES
48. LUNA HALE
49. PAUL DONNELLY
50. PAUL DONNELLY
51. LUNA HALE
52. PAUL DONNELLY
53. LUNA HALE
54. LUNA HALE
MARCH
CHARLIE & LUNA’S TEXT THREAD
55. LUNA HALE
CHARLIE & LUNA’S TEXT THREAD
FANATICON FORUM
56. PAUL DONNELLY
57. PAUL DONNELLY
58. PAUL DONNELLY
59. LUNA HALE
60. PAUL DONNELLY
61. LUNA HALE
EMAIL FROM SAM STOKES
62. LUNA HALE
63. LUNA HALE
64. LUNA HALE
65. LUNA HALE
66. PAUL DONNELLY
67. PAUL DONNELLY
APRIL
68. PAUL DONNELLY
69. PAUL DONNELLY
DONNELLY’S DAILY PLANNER
EMAIL FROM SAM STOKES
70. LUNA HALE
71. PAUL DONNELLY
72. PAUL DONNELLY
MAY
FANATICON FORUM
73. LUNA HALE
EMAIL FROM SAM STOKES
74. PAUL DONNELLY
75. PAUL DONNELLY
76. LUNA HALE
77. PAUL DONNELLY
78. LUNA HALE
79. PAUL DONNELLY
80. LUNA HALE
SUMMER
Epilogue I
SOMETIME FAR, FAR AWAY
Epilogue II
Acknowledgments
Further Reading
About the Authors
Also by Krista & Becca
Nobody Like Us Copyright © 2024 by K.B. Ritchie
First Edition - Digital
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, are coincidental and originate from the authors’ imagination
and are used fictitiously.
www.kbritchie.com
A Note From the Authors
Nobody Like Us is the thirteenth book in the Like Us Series. Even though the series changes POVs throughout, to understand
events that take place in the previous novels, the series should be read in its order of publication.
Not all characters in this list will make an appearance in the book, but most will be mentioned.
Ages represent the age of the character at chapter one of the book. Some characters might be older when they’re introduced,
depending on their birthday.
THE HALES
Loren Hale & Lily Calloway
Maximoff – 25
Luna – 21
Xander – 17
Kinney – 16
Ripley (grandchild) – 1 year, 11 months
Cassidy (grandchild) — 1 week
THE COBALTS
Richard Connor Cobalt & Rose Calloway
Jane – 25
Charlie – 23
Beckett – 23
Eliot – 21
Tom – 20
Ben – 18
Audrey – 15
Maeve (grandchild) — 5 weeks
THE MEADOWS
Ryke Meadows & Daisy Calloway
Sullivan – 22
Winona – 16
THE ABBEYS
Garrison Abbey & Willow Hale
Vada – 16
“All of this has happened before. All of this will happen again.”
— Battlestar Galactica
1
PAUL DONNELLY
I’VE BEEN AVOIDING funerals most of my life. Didn’t make it to my grandmom’s when she croaked. Skipped out on mass for
deceased aunts and uncles. Been to one wake for a cousin. But that was because I was thirteen and hungry and they had roast
beef hoagies. I’m not big on death. It feels like the conclusion of something—and I’d just rather keep on running, keep on going,
than celebrate any kind of ending.
On the grassy hill of a cemetery a little outside Philly, it hits me like a burst of cold December wind.
My first funeral is for a Calloway.
Not my mom.
Not my dad.
A fucking Calloway.
I’d laugh at the sheer shock of it—but can’t laugh during a funeral. I have manners and all—even if everyone in the
cemetery has been eyeballing me and Luna rather than the coffin that’ll descend into the freshly dug earth.
Feels like we were the ones who died.
Like half the people here are lowering us into the ground.
At least I’m with her. In life, in death…at least I’m with Luna Hale.
I scrape a hand through my hair.
Yeah, I’m not dead yet. Luna leans into my shoulder, her warmth radiating against me, and my left arm is already around
this girl.
I look down at her. Residual glitter is still stuck in her light brown hair, the strands sparkling, and her round cheeks are rosy
from the biting winter air. Her black puffer jacket is too short to warm the length of her body, but I tuck her close to me.
She’s mine. She’s all mine, but from across the wooden casket, I spot a fortysomething woman with deep auburn hair
yanked into a taut bun. Luna’s therapist. If she could chuck stones, I’d be pelted to death by now. She would rather I let Luna
go.
It’s worse when I spot Luna’s parents. Her mom practically turns her face into her husband’s chest just to avoid me. Like
I’m truly disease-ridden and toxic waste.
My stomach clenches.
It’s not about me. She’s just upset about who died. It’s upsetting. This death. This whole thing. I try to convince myself,
but it’s also clear she’s doing her best not to make eye contact with me.
Luna senses her mom’s avoidance, and she shifts uneasily. I squeeze her in a side-hug.
A light layer of snow blankets the dewy morning grass. Everyone is standing, hundreds in attendance to pay their respects,
and I only feel like a special invitee because I can see the gravesite. I’m not two or three rows behind friends-of-friends and
other security.
I am on-duty though. Had to keep the press and paparazzi out of the cemetery, but I managed to sneak up to the front to be
beside Luna. I’m Epsilon—been that way for three days—and my fellow SFE brethren are looking at me like I deserve to be
shoved in the hole. O’Malley, most especially.
I meet the intensity of his glare with one of my own.
Fuck him.
My blood courses hatefully, and I despise this feeling. I want to release it, but after all that’s happened, I can’t figure out
how. I’m afraid to live inside hatred, maybe more than I am to live inside the past.
I glance back down at Luna—she’s worth everything. She’s my everything. But I’m still partially in her world. One foot in,
one foot out. Like with a big enough gust of wind, I could be blown away from her.
She springs on her tiptoes to whisper to me, “It kinda feels like we’re being stared at.”
I dip my head to whisper back, “Accurate assessment, I’d say. They’re probably just jealous.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, her voice tense.
We both know they’re not envious of the hell we’ve been going through. No one in their right mind would be.
They’re also not envious of what happened to us three days ago—the same day we learned a Calloway died. Also known
as the day another member of Luna’s family walked in on me giving her head. History repeats itself in strange ways, and I don’t
know what it says about me that this happened yet again.
What didn’t repeat: Keeping it under wraps.
Her entire family got wind of it today. Hence, being eyeballed during the funeral like we’re the ones in the casket.
I’d say we already had some metaphorical or spiritual death of sorts, but it’s not that easy to put me to rest.
THREE DAYS EARLIER
2
PAUL DONNELLY
“LET’S GO, MY FURRY FRIENDS.” Arkham and Orion lead the way into the Hale House. While Luna, Maximoff, and Farrow
talk on the front lawn about the sudden death in the family, I give them a minute to themselves. Letting the Hales have this
family moment. So I offered to bring the dogs inside.
Boxes of Christmas lights are on the front brick porch. I’d been stringing them on the roof before Maximoff dropped the bad
news. I collect my phone and radio nearby, in a bit of a daze.
Life giveth and life taketh.
I’ve got experience with death of relatives, but not necessarily death of loved ones. I can’t say how everyone will react, but
I know it’ll matter to a lot of people in the families.
I breathe out an odd heaviness on my chest and enter the Hale House. Nudging the door shut with my foot, I slip farther into
the foyer.
It’s still quiet.
I can’t hear any creatures stirring except the big burly canines below me. They pull me into the living room, and I barely
need to crouch to unleash the two towering Newfies.
Freed, they trot through a cracked door, on course for the kitchen. That’s where their doggie bowls are, and I’m sure
they’ve got food on the brain. Before I move, that same kitchen door opens wider, but Orion hasn’t backtracked for extra pets.
Loren Hale graces the living room, winter coat gone from when he checked up on the progress of the Christmas lights
outside. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black tee, arrowhead necklace, and jeans. Cell phone to his ear, his brows are all knotted
up, his lips drawn in a serious line.
He’s staring right at me.
I freeze.
Should I go back outside? Feels like I’m in an old spaghetti Western with Luna’s dad, and his sharp gaze is a warning that
he’ll pull a pistol if I so much as breathe wrong.
Except he’s not verbally kicking me out. He’s not waving me to go.
So for better or worse, I stay put.
“Yeah…yeah,” Lo says to someone over the line. His voice is strained, almost somber. “I know that.” He hasn’t stopped
looking at me.
I wind the leashes in a loop, gauging the temperature of the room. Tense. Prickly? Maybe that’s just the hairs rising on the
back of my neck.
Death.
Dead.
Someone has died, and it’d be easier for me if I enjoyed sitting in discomfort and morbidity—but I don’t. Never have.
Probably never will.
“I’m not putting out a statement, Daniel,” Lo snaps. “Seriously. Okay, great…conversation over.” He hangs up, then pockets
his phone, still staring me down.
I bet he thinks I’m a bigger intruder hanging around during a family death. I nod to him. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. “I
know he must’ve meant something to you.”
Lo’s face contorts, perplexed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
What am I talking about?
His confusion mounts.
Fuck…
Me.
Shouldn’t he know?
I’m more frozen. “You don’t know?”
“Know what, Paul?” He shifts his weight.
I scrape a hand through my hair. Fuck, fuck. How could he not know? “Are you fucking with me?” I ask him. Say yes. I
almost make the sign of the cross. I feel Catholic in my heart sometimes, even if the church didn’t want me.
“No,” Lo says, verging on anger. “I’m not fucking with you.” His eyes are knives.
I assumed he’d been talking to his publicists. Wouldn’t they want him to send out a press release about the deceased family
member? I ask hurriedly, “What was that phone call then? The statement you’re not putting out—”
“None of your business,” he snaps. Then he expels a sharp breath, rethinking and glaring at the ceiling. “Daniel—a
longtime board member of Hale Co.—wants me to say that my daughter didn’t write any of her leaked stories.” He emphasizes
daughter as if I don’t know he has one.
Pretty certain she’s the girl I’m in love with.
I nod a couple times. “‘Cause you sell strollers and diapers, not smut. Which doesn’t make much sense since sex is what
produces babies…” I trail off. He’s glaring, and I’m trying my best not to crack a shadow of a smile.
“I’m not in the mood, Paul.”
“I could get you in it.”
“Or I could get you out of it.”
Neither of us are smiling. “That, too,” I mutter, not wanting him to revert to the original topic. I’m stalling. “Maybe this
Daniel guy should read Luna’s fics. He might like ‘em.”
Lo wheezes out a brittle laugh. “Yeah, the only thing Daniel Perth likes is when I say yes.”
“Her fics are pro-baby,” I defend. “The warrior princess on Demos has like five of them.” I cock my head in thought. “He
may not like that they have horns though.”
Lo’s brows scrunch. “He couldn’t give a shit what she’s written. He just cares about numbers, and he’s correlating the
blowback from her stories with our profit margin—and it’s a dumb correlation. There’s about a thousand other fucking things
that could point to the profit loss.” He’s heated, but he sighs out. “It’s been an ongoing thing, not that you needed to know any of
this.” He claws his fingers through his light brown hair. “Don’t tell Luna about it.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” It’d just hurt her to know there’s discord at Hale Co. from the fallout of her writing. At least…I
think it’d hurt her. But she’s been handling the leaked fics a lot better than she did before her memory loss.
I’m about to make a quick exit, but as soon as I chuck the dog leashes in a wicker basket, Lo says, “You better not go.”
I’ve wanted him to tell me that.
More than he’ll ever know.
You better not go. But he’s not pleading with me to stay because he’s grown a liking to me—I have answers and he looks
like he could butcher me for them.
Lo adds, “Not before you tell me what’s going on. Why’d you say that? Sorry for your loss? Who were you talking about?”
“Maybe someone else should tell you…” I crane my neck over my shoulder, expecting Maximoff or Farrow to enter by
now.
No one does.
It’s just me. Alone. With Luna’s dad.
“Why?” He’s more pissed. “You and me. Trust.” He motions from his chest to my chest, as if the trust meter between us is
teetering towards empty again.
“I’m just not the one who should tell you, I don’t think.”
His face screws up in several emotions. “You said sorry for your loss. You said he meant something to me. You know
what I’m thinking? If it’s that goddamn bad, then my phone would be blowing up. Ryke would be calling me. He would’ve
already told me himself.”
“I have no clue why your brother hasn’t called you yet,” I say. “Maybe he’s taking a bubble bath.”
Lo shoots me a look like I’m not helping.
I thought it was a funny image. I scratch the back of my head, turning to go.
“Did someone die?” Lo finally asks.
Slowly, I twist back.
I see on his face he doesn’t fully believe it, but he’s breathing harder like he might.
I stay quiet, a noiseless confirmation.
His shoulders arch, cheekbones sharpen. “Who?” Fear flickers in his eyes. He reaches in his pocket for his phone.
“Greg Calloway,” I tell him. “Your father-in-law.”
Patriarch of the Calloway sisters. Creator of Fizzle: the behemoth soda company that rivals Coca-Cola and Pepsi. Husband
to the Crow. Grandfather to Luna.
Greg was old. I’m guessing it’d be expected at some point, but he’d been healthy for his age. It came suddenly.
“How?” Lo asks.
“Heart attack in his sleep.”
“No, how did you find out?” His breathing heavies again.
If I answer this, am I throwing Luna’s older brother under the bus? I take too long to respond.
Lo looks murderous. “I swear to God, Paul, if you don’t tell me, you are going to rise up my shit list—and I’ve just bumped
you down.”
“So you do like me—”
“Paul.”
Maybe not by much.
No one said this was a secret. If it turns out it is one, I can ask for forgiveness later.
“Maximoff. He told me,” I reveal, just as the front door opens and in walks Maximoff Hale.
3
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rukten ze den half gestikten Ouë uit Dirk’s
schrikkelijken klauw, die nog nabeefde en
vingerkrampte van hevige moorddrift. Piet had staan
kijken, in aarzeling wie ie helpen zou.—Dirk, met
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grinnikte, spoog den Ouë, al doller van drift, in ’t
gezicht.—Gerrit kromde in, achter de agenten,
neergesmakt weer op den stoel, half verborgen z’n
bespuwden angstkop, de armen naar boven gekneld,
in de boei-pooten der helmmannen.—
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[Inhoud]
TWAALFDE HOOFDSTUK.
—Nee Kloas! soo komp jai d’r vàst nie van màin òf!
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DERTIENDE HOOFDSTUK.
[Inhoud]
II.