She rolled her eyes over her daughter’s head. “Seriously . . . I think I could sleep for a straight week. But my littles were calling to me, so Momma got her tail out of bed. I figured everyone was going to be hungry.”
“I hungry!” Greyson’s hand shot into the air, a worthy volunteer.
“I would have been happy to feed them,” Kristina said.
Tamar waved her off. “It’s fine.”
I jolted when the side door banged open from behind us.
I could almost feel it.
The way the levity drained from the air and aggression flooded in to take its place.
A cold dread that lifted the hairs at the nape of my neck and twisted my stomach in an instant knot of worry.
I guessed everyone else felt it, too, because Kristina stopped what she was saying and all the kids went silent.
From my vantage, I watched the deepest frown set into Tamar’s expression.
Warily, I turned to look over my shoulder to find Lyrik raging in the doorway, wearing tattered jeans and an even older tee and hatred on his face.
“Lyrik. What’s wrong?” Tamar managed, her voice quivering with a shock of dread.
Hands curling around the doorframe, he swallowed hard, the tattoo on his throat bobbing as his eyes skated the room, instinctively moving to land on me. He glanced back at Tamar. “Need to talk to my sister. In private.”
Chills skated down my spine.
A slick of ice.
Freezing me to the spot.
“Please,” he grated, clearly not wanting to make a scene in front of the kids.
I forced myself to snap out of the stupor. I gave a jerky nod.
“Sure.” I attempted to play it off. To act like it was no big deal when Penny finally pulled her attention from the book and shifted it to me.
Like she could feel all of this, too.
Worry etching her sweet, sweet face.
Shakily, I moved for Tamar. “Can you watch him for a second?”
“Of course,” she said, taking him from me and hugging him close while continuing to stare at Lyrik with a million questions playing through her eyes.
He didn’t say anything when he ducked back out. Feet heavy, I followed him into the muted light of the morning.
“I didn’t think you’d be up yet. I needed to talk to you, too,” I rambled at his back as he headed to the edge of the patio, doing my best to break the tension. Terrified of what could have him so upset.
To pretend like this wasn’t a big deal when I could feel the severity of it banging through the atmosphere.
The air colder than it should be.
A frigid warning that scraped my skin in jagged pricks.
There was no missing the fact that Lyrik was doing his best to keep his cool and losing his battle with it, his hands curling into fists, something vicious and dark and cruel radiating from his being.
When we were fully hidden from view of the kitchen window, he finally whirled around.
The outright horror curling his face made me stumble to a stop, breaths going shallow and hard, alarm slowing my pulse to a ragged thud.
“What’s going on, Lyrik? You’re scaring me.”
His eyes pinched for a beat, and he roughed a hand through his hair as he looked away, like he was trying to gather himself, keep it together, but there was no use in it because I could already feel myself falling apart in front of him.
“Got a call from security this morning,” he grunted. He warred, clearly not wanting to continue, his voice cracking as he forced out the words. “Said they had an issue with one of the guest’s cars. They didn’t discover it until this morning. I went out to the lot to check it out. Mia . . . all your tires . . . they’d been slashed. Fifteen fucking other cars had been out there last night, and yours was the only one that had been touched.”
Terror squeezed my heart in a vice grip.
Anxiety clawed at my flesh.
Deep and biting.
Freeing the fear that I’d been trying to outrun for the last three weeks.
But it couldn’t be. It just . . . couldn’t. There had to be another explanation.
My head shook in refusal, not even wanting to contemplate the possibilities. “What do you mean . . . I thought . . . I thought there was security?”
“There was . . . but apparently not enough. Bastard got through.”
Dizziness whirled.
Faster and faster.
The grief I’d been suppressing for weeks rose to the surface, no longer able to be subdued. I tried to break through it, to find air above the dark waters that lapped and churned and fought to suck me under.
My mind raced. It finally came around to settle on the asshole who had gotten handsy.
“I-it had to be that guy last night,” I barely managed to stammer. “The one who’d freaked me out.”
My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips, and I fidgeted and ran my hands through my hair like it might have the chance to calm me down. “He . . . he backed me into a corner after you and I talked. Acted like I was there as part of the entertainment or something. Like he could just have me.”
Lyrik gripped two handfuls of hair. He turned a livid circle.
A complete three-sixty that only poured fire on the flames.
Hatred rushing free, hurt bleeding from his mouth.
Lyrik style.
“What the fuck, Mia? Why didn’t you tell me? Come find me? With all this shit goin’ down? God damn it.” The last dripped from his mouth like he was the one to blame.
My head shook. “I took care of it.”
“And how did you do that?” Lyrik looked like he was going to completely come out of his skin. What really terrified me was what peeling that back might actually reveal.
“I fought him off. Spit in his face and kneed him in the dick. I didn’t wait around to see how pissed he was, but from his yelping and crying, I’m sure he was plenty offended.”
“God damn it, Mia.”
There was almost the hint of a smile on his mouth.
Like he was proud.
Proud and so very pissed.
“Asshole is lucky he only got kneed in the balls, and I wasn’t there to cut them off. In front of everyone. Might finally teach the prick a lesson. I bet I know exactly who you’re talking about.”
“Which is exactly the reason I didn’t come looking for you. I wanted time between what happened and when I told you so we could report him. I had every intention of it, Lyrik. I was just waiting for you to wake up. But this is something that needs to be reported to the cops, and not for you to go hunting him down to make him pay for it. You know that’s not going to do either of us any good.”
“Bet I know exactly who it is, too. Dick is always sloshed, touching things he shouldn’t, thinking he’s the shit.” He rambled the words, grunting and ranting.
I didn’t even have to describe the guy.
Apparently, his reputation preceded him.
What a creep.
“It had to be him,” I said, nodding, doing my best to convince myself.
Because something didn’t sit right.
Because my car . . . how would he have known? The guy didn’t know a thing about me. And if I had a million bucks to bet, I would put it on my car being the crappiest out there. Unnoticeable among all the rest.
Like Brendon had said, it wasn’t gambling when you knew you were going to win.
All the fancy sports cars and over-the-top luxury sedans that had pulled up to the valet stand last night. The cars the rest of the band and their families kept for when they were in the city.
And there was my five-year-old Accord sitting in the middle of them.
I wondered if Lyrik was thinking the exact same thing because his focus had drifted out over the city, the man working his jaw hard and his vision narrowed at the nothingness.
I jumped about fifteen feet in the air when his phone suddenly rang from his pocket, the shrill tone slicing into the silence.
/> He dug it out, glanced at the ID, quick to accept the call when he saw whoever it was. “What do you have?” he demanded the second he put it to his ear.
He watched me as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. His expression morphed and churned and darkened.
I could feel it.
That shattering of energy that flared and pulsed.
The way his entire being morphed with his own fear.
A buzz of horror.
Teeth gritted, he pulled his phone away to look at something on the screen.
It was a video his security team had sent through. He watched it twice, his muscles twitching as he did, violence growing stronger with each pass.
While I stood there trying to pretend like this wasn’t another moment in my life that was going to change everything.
Finally, he held it out for me to watch it, like he hated to do it but had no other choice because there was no protecting me from the reality of this.
Warily, I watched the scene play out on the screen.
Fifteen seconds of horror.
That was all the time it took for nausea to hit me, full force, so fast and fierce that I didn’t make it all the way to the edge of the patio before I threw up in a planter.
Retching in terror and sickness and cutting grief.
On the video was a man, dressed in all black and wearing a ski mask, waving a knife at the camera like he wanted it to capture everything.
Like he was issuing a threat.
I was one-hundred percent sure he was the same man that had been in my gallery that night.
The same man the detective was certain had been a random.
The same man who had found a way into my brother’s compound.
The very same man who had murdered my best friend.
* * *
“What the hell, Mia?” Nixon hissed at me from under his breath where I stood outside the doorway of his shop, hugging my arms over my chest in an attempt to hold myself together. “You can’t just up and leave to Savannah. Are you crazy?”
Disbelief pulsed through his being, his surprise injected with a shot of anger, his eyes hard and filled with the cruelness I knew he could mete with the flick of his wrist. His hair was close to white and cut short, his face all blunt lines and harsh expressions.
Even though he’d cleaned up his life, he still looked every bit as menacing as he had since the day I’d met him.
Trouble.
Apparently, I had a type.
His harsh gaze went for a hostile ride over his shoulder, searching the street as if he were wondering if I’d been followed. If he was going to have to beat someone down right there.
Just the thought of it made me want to puke.
The idea that someone was after me.
Every question of why coming at me at warp speed.
Ill-at-ease, I shifted on my feet, no longer comfortable in my skin or in my world or in my city. “I would be crazy to stay here, Nix. You have to understand that. After everything?”
“Exactly. Mia. After everything. You need to be here. With me. You can’t just take off with my kids.”
Disbelief narrowed my eyes. “And you want me to keep them here? While some psychopath is out there, after me for God knows what? You know I won’t . . . that I can’t . . . put my children at risk like that.”
Faster than I could make sense of it, he gripped me by the elbow, tugging me closer, desperation in his voice. “Then stay with me. Let me take care of you. You know I can protect you. Stay with me, Mia. Be with me. I’ll fix whatever the fuck has gone wrong here. I promise you I won’t let anything happen to you or the kids.”
God. Were we doing this again?
Sadness shook my head. “You know that’s not going to happen, Nix.”
Our relationship had been tumultuous.
Off and on and off again.
He’d been the guy who’d stolen my eye when he’d gone riding by on his motorcycle, bad and mean and every-single-thing I should never want.
I didn’t really know how bad he was until a few months in, when I realized his line of work wasn’t exactly legal.
That I was getting caught up in something that I shouldn’t.
That was right about the time I’d found out I was pregnant with Penny. I’d given him an ultimatum—me and the baby or that life.
He’d walked.
I should have chalked it up to being a blessing, but when he’d cleaned up his life, turned himself around, and had shown up at my door wanting to take his position as Penny’s dad, I’d given him the benefit of the doubt.
Problem was, the man was a whirlwind, sweeping in, turning everything upside-down with a flick of his hand.
A few months later, I was pregnant with Greyson, and we were right back in the same position.
No more.
Not ever again.
I’d learned my lesson the hard way.
Twice.
I wouldn’t be repeating it.
The problem was, he’d been trying to convince me all that time to come back to him. That we could make it work when there was no chance that we could.
There was too much hurt and garbage and distrust littered between us.
But even then, he’d been there to support us. Being the best father to the kids that he could be. He’d even come alongside me when I’d been chasing down a dream of opening my own gallery, investing time and money and effort into the little shop.
My insides clutched at the thought of that building. At the memory.
At the vision of the walls and the floor where she’d lain.
Blood.
So much blood.
“Why not, Mia? Hasn’t enough time gone by? Haven’t I done enough?” he pushed.
My brow drew tight. “And you told me you were doing that because you care about me as a friend. Because you want the best life for our children.”
It was never supposed to come at a price.
He roughed a frustrated hand through his hair, angling away, before he was back to staring me down. “I did it because I love you. Because I always have. Because I love them. Because I want us to be a family.”
I blinked hard, fighting the emotion I could feel welling in my throat. “I’m sorry, Nix. But I can’t stay here.”
Dread filled the hard lines of his expression. “How am I supposed to take care of you when you’re not here? You need to stick close, Mia, until we find out what is happening. And besides . . . you’re just . . . going to walk away from the gallery? You need it.”
Chills crawled up my arms, a slow-slide of anguish and mourning. My hands chased it, like it might be enough to warm the cold spot carved out in the middle of me. “You know I can never step foot in that place again.”
His eyes pinched closed. “Then we’ll find another space.”
I backed up, looking for some space of my own.
“I’m sorry, Nix. But I’m going. Just for the summer. Penny loves it there, anyway. She’ll be with Kallie. You know what that will mean to her. It’s for the best.”
“And what about me?” Disappointment flooded his tone, his normal arrogant posture dampening in the rejection.
Taking another step backward, I gave him the most honest answer that I could. “It was never about you.”
Six
Leif
“Dude, if you even think about bailing on us, I will hunt you down and personally drag your ass back to South Carolina.” The tease Rhys sent me through the phone was delivered with the undercurrent of a threat.
Carolina George’s bassist was loud and crass, his big, bleeding heart worn on his sleeve with a scrap of barbed-wire around it to protect it.
My gaze drifted out the back window of the luxury SUV as I traveled deeper into the Historic District of Savannah. Carolina George had played downtown along River Street enough times in this small city that everything felt familiar.
Homes that hailed from more than a century before. Grand and pretentious.
<
br /> Spindly age-old oaks grew up on each side of the narrow roads, and flares of sunlight struck down through the breaks in the leaves, the moss-covered branches stretched overhead like passages that led into a brand-new world.
A place removed.
Another time.
Like you’d stepped back into a different era and no one even noticed you were there.
Whimsical and quaint and ripe with history.
Unease shivered through my senses.
Could almost hear the ghosts howling, haunting the streets, flitting through the highest branches of the trees as they searched for what had been lost.
Somethin’ eerie all mixed up with a vibe that billowed peace.
I itched, knee bouncing out of control, my fingers drumming my thigh even faster. Trying to calm myself the fuck down, but unable to stop the anxiety that was crawling over me like a bad dream.
A bad omen.
Got the premonition that I was driving toward destruction, and I didn’t have a clue why. All except for the fact I’d always known Los Angeles would one day catch up to me. I could almost sense it now, right there, hunting, so close I was only a single misstep from it taking me down.
Wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let that happen.
Not until retribution had been paid.
Revenge had been served.
I had to keep it together, bide my time until time had come to fruition.
“I’m serious about this shit, Banger,” Rhys said through a rough chuckle. I could almost see him flexing his ridiculous biceps from across the line, like the brawny motherfucker actually thought he could kick my ass. “Would give my left nut for us to get that contract signed. Em’s thrown enough wrenches in the deal. Last thing we need is you givin’ it a good twist.”
“You have so little faith in me?” I asked.
He huffed, and I could hear the heels of his cowboy boots thudding onto the top of a table as he undoubtedly rocked back in a chair. Boy was about as southern as they came. A bull in a china shop. Always ready to jump into the saddle.
“Opposite, man. Opposite. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t even have let you get on that plane to Los Angeles in the first place. I mean, shit, them wining and dining you with a goddamn private jet? That is some fancy-pants shit, bro. Now you’re going to be chilling at the Lyrik West’s Savannah pad—which I’d bet my left nut is probs as ritzy as his place in the Hills—for two months? For free? Plus all that dough? All for the sake of you laying down a few drum tracks on their next album? Sounds fishy. Smells fishy, too.”
Kiss the Stars Page 6
