Pride of Petrus.
Except today.
Today it was different.
A layer of fear I hadn’t felt in a long time palpitated under the surface of my skin.
I fought it. Lifted my chin. Got off my bike. Strode into the back of the club like I owned it.
Heavy metal screamed from the speakers. Place dank and dark.
Seedy as fuck.
There were piles of coke on the table. Half-naked chicks running amok. Arrogant pricks leaning against the walls drinking beers like they were someone to be seen.
Every single one of them took notice of me.
I pushed into the back office.
Didn’t even knock.
Did the deal.
And I strode back out feeling like a motherfucking king.
Twelve
Mia
What was I doing?
My gaze followed the dark figure who moved toward the guest house on the opposite side of the yard.
A shadow.
A wraith.
Both soothing and terrifying.
Which made me question more why I couldn’t stay away.
Why I was so intrigued.
Or maybe he had it right. Maybe the only thing I knew how to do was look for the pain.
Lately it felt like I didn’t know anything else.
At the doorway to the guest house, he paused and shifted to stare back in my direction. From this distance in the muted lights, I doubted he could make me out through the windows. But still, he was gazing back at me like he could see me.
Like he got me.
Understood me.
Or maybe like he wished that he could.
Finally, he gave a harsh shake of his head, turned, and disappeared into the guest house.
It cut off the connection, jolting me back into reality.
I shook my head like I could shake myself from the trance. Rid myself of the attraction.
I really was looking for trouble, wasn’t I?
Begging for it.
The man felt irresistible, which was kind of funny considering he was the one who was refusing to give himself to me.
One second, I was telling him to leave me alone, that I had no interest, and the next I was practically begging him to strip me of my clothes and put me out of my misery.
I got the horrible sense that he might be the only one who could do it. The only one who might be able to hold me tight enough that he could keep the ghosts at bay.
No, I had no illusions that he wouldn’t crush me in the process.
But sometimes experiencing the pain was better than feeling nothing at all.
I looked back at the black streak I’d painted in a crooked slash across the canvas.
Feeling a flicker.
A spark.
Beauty.
I squeezed my eyes shut in a bid to cling to it, to claim it, but I felt it falter and fade.
Snuffed.
Blowing out a heavy sigh, I set the paintbrush aside and moved back through the shadows of the house. I tiptoed my way back into the suite, edging open the door that was left open a smidge and moving directly for the room on the left.
Where my children slept.
This was where the numbness abated. Where emotion rushed.
The issue was it was so acute that it nearly knocked me from my feet.
I moved across the room to the crib that sat on one side of the room. I leaned over the railing, peering through the dim light to where Greyson slept.
His chubby cheeks were pinked, his plush lips pursed and whispering in his dreams.
So peaceful in his rest.
My hand shook with the amount of adoration I felt as I ran my hand over the top of his head.
“I love you, sweet boy,” I whispered, touching my fingers to my lips before I pressed them to his forehead. “I promise that we are going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you. To us.”
I murmured the hushed words to his sleeping body, praying he could feel their truth as I tucked his teddy bear closer to him.
I eased back. My heart lurched when I glanced to the side and saw Penny sitting up in her bed. She was clutching her patchwork teddy bear to her chest, watching me with her knowing eyes.
“Penny, sweetheart . . . what are you still doing awake?”
“I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?”
Light laughter rolled out. Leave it to my eleven-year-old daughter to call me out.
Crossing the room, I sat down on the edge of her bed and brushed my fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither could I,” she admitted in her quiet voice.
I searched through her expression, my words hushed in the night. “Did you have a bad dream?”
Penny shook her head, and she drew her legs up to her chest. “I guess it might as well be a bad dream.” She blinked long, and my chest ached. “In the day it’s easier . . . it’s easier to pretend that everything is fine.”
Her voice lowered in shame. “But sometimes when I close my eyes . . . I see her, Mom. I see Lana, and every time, her face changes into yours. I hate it, but I can’t stop it.”
She looked at me.
Hopeless and guilt-ridden and trembling with fear.
“I keep thinking about what it would have been like if it was you.”
I kept brushing my fingers through the locks of her hair, trying to soothe her, trying to soothe myself.
Tears filled her eyes, and she peered up at me through the shadows. “Does it make me bad, Mom? Does it make me a bad person that I’m glad you’re the one who is still here?”
“Oh, Penny, of course not, sweetheart. Never. You are wonderful and kind and full of love. It’s only natural that we want to protect the ones who are closest to us.”
“But she was like our family.”
“I know. And I miss her so much. I know you miss her, too. What happened was horrible. Horrible in every way.” I spread my hand over the side of her face, and my tone deepened with emphasis, “Don’t you dare take on any blame or beat yourself up for anything you feel. We’re all grieving. Handling it the best way that we can.”
Guilt rippled and blew. How many times had I thought the same thing? What torment it might have caused my children if they were to have lost me?
My luck up against hers.
Was it wrong?
Was it selfish?
Tremors rolled down Penny’s throat. “We’re not here for vacation, are we?”
Grief tightened my chest in a vice.
I should have known my insightful child would realize packing up and leaving so quickly was more than an impromptu trip.
I ran my knuckles down her cheek that was thinning with her age, my little girl sitting at the verge of child and woman.
So innocent and wise.
Naïve and intelligent.
“You don’t need to worry, Penny. We’re here to heal. I would never let anything happen to you.”
Her voice sounded smaller than it had in a long time. “Why would someone want to hurt us? Want to hurt Lana? It’s not fair.”
“Greed makes people do terrible things.”
She blinked, her dark eyes pleading for a different answer. I wished with all of me that I could give her one. “Is that what that man wanted, all of her money?”
My nod was reluctant. “That’s what the detective thinks right now.”
That statement was beginning to feel like a lie, nothing making sense or adding up.
A frown pinched her brow. “But we’re here, not that I’m mad or anything, because you know I love it here. It’s my favorite place ever. But Mom, I know you’re not telling me everything. I’m not a little girl anymore. You don’t have to protect me.”
There she was, acting an age older again.
“My only job in this world is protecting you, Penny.”
“Is someone going to hurt us?”
Talons of agony sank into my spirit, and I cupped my hand ti
ghter to her face. “No. We’re safe here.”
“Dad says we should be with him. He said no one would touch us if we were. Maybe we should go back to California and stay with him.” Her whispered words started to fly, cramming closer and closer together as she suddenly launched into a plea.
I brushed my thumb along her jaw, tilting her face up to mine. “Your dad loves you, Penny. Very much. But it’s best that we’re on the other side of the country. The detective is working hard to arrest the man who hurt Lana, and until he does, we will be safest, far away from there.”
* * *
I jolted upright to the alarm blaring through the house. I tossed off the covers, on my feet in a flash. I darted out my door, through the living area of the suite, and into my children’s room.
Relief blasted through me when I found Greyson hadn’t even budged. Penny rolled over on a long moan, lost to a deep, deep sleep.
The door to the suite blew open. Lyrik stood there, black hair wild, expression raging. “Are they okay?”
“Yes.” I tried to keep the tremor from the words. “They’re safe.”
He gave a tight nod before he was flying back out. He raced the rest of the way down the hall and out the same door Leif had found me through earlier in the night.
Warily, I followed him.
Trepidation in every step.
Fear in every heartbeat.
A thunderous pound, pound, pound that blasted through my being. I thought it had to be louder than the alarms that blared through the house.
I slipped along the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the hall and the big playroom. Through them, I watched as Lyrik darted out into the yard.
His head whipped from one direction to the other.
Every inch of his posture on guard.
The protector.
My eyes scanned, and I heaved out a breath when I saw a second man bolting across the yard.
Leif.
His posture was entirely different than my brother’s.
An avenger.
A dark destroyer.
A demon that seethed in the night.
An aura of chaos swirled around him as he sprinted along the pool and headed toward the back of the lot.
Lyrik got in line behind him.
My pulse skidded and shook, fear taking me hostage as I watched the scene play out through the windows as if I were watching a movie playing out on the screen.
Leif scaled the wall. So fast it seemed inhuman.
A creature that had come to life.
Born of carnage.
Or maybe that was just what he threatened to bring.
He disappeared over the top, and Lyrik jogged right, following the back of the wall before he was climbing over it at the farthest end.
As if the two of them were boxing in their prey.
And I wondered who it was that was hunting who.
Warily, I eased out of the door.
The night was at its thickest.
Darkest.
Held just before the break of dawn.
Humid air scraped my flesh, and shivers rolled as I listened to the distant shouts.
All of them were familiar voices.
Lyrik.
Leif.
Lyrik again.
My gaze moved to the balcony that overhung the third floor of the main house. Tamar stood at the railing, clinging to it as she stared down.
Black hair whipped around her face that was held in morbid fear.
Our eyes met, and my mouth moved in whispered silence, “I’m sorry.”
Her head shook.
No.
We were in this together.
Family.
But I was sure she and Lyrik had already endured enough pain.
I hugged myself over my middle like I could gather back up the pieces that I could feel finally slipping away.
I’d tried.
Tried so hard to pretend.
Tried to pretend that I wasn’t going to crumble.
Tried to pretend it was all going to be okay.
That we were going to make it through this unscathed.
This was only a vacation, right?
What a joke.
Even my eleven-year-old child could see right through it.
Because there was no way to believe the lies you kept telling yourself when you had nothing left to support it.
Foundation cracked.
After what seemed like an eternity, the back gate buzzed and Lyrik came storming back through.
Agitation fizzed across the surface of his skin.
Immediately, his attention landed on me, tone gruff, “It was nothing. Probably a fuckin’ cat set off the sensors or something.”
The words left him like spite. Like he wanted to be sick for letting go of the greatest deception.
My lips trembled. “Are you sure?”
I didn’t even know why I was asking it because I could feel the sick reality racing to catch up to me. Seeping in from under the fortified walls, clawing its way over the bricks.
His head shook, black hair whipping up a disorder. Frustrated, he brushed it out of his eyes. “We didn’t find anything, Mia. It was a false alarm. Go back to bed. You should get some sleep.”
With the way his eyes darted around the yard, I knew that wasn’t going to be an option for him. He didn’t come close to believing a thing that he was telling me.
“Is there footage?” I asked instead of agreeing.
“We’ll see if anything was captured. But there’s no one out there. There is no danger.”
His words were hard. Angry. I wondered if he was trying to convince himself.
“Okay,” I conceded, my hand curling in the neckline of the tank of my pajamas.
He moved toward me, watchfully, carefully, his dark eyes flaring. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled me in for a tight hug, his breaths shallow, his muscles twitching with the residual of adrenaline. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everyone is safe,” he muttered again, clearly talking himself down from the ledge.
“Okay.”
He pulled back, held me by the outsides of the shoulders. “I think we’re all a little paranoid.”
My nod was tight.
Was it paranoia if you were fighting for your life?
But why . . . why would anyone want to take it? Why would that sick, twisted bastard in that video track me down? What did he want?
Apprehension slithered beneath the surface of my skin. Something sticky and ugly that crawled my flesh in a slow-slide of dread.
Lyrik finally released me and stepped back. He stared at me for a long minute. “I won’t let anyone get to you, Mia. Promise you.”
“I know that.” My acknowledgement was shaky at best.
With a clipped nod, he started back along the length of the huge pool, his eyes on his wife who was still staring down at the disturbance going down in the middle of their yard.
My attention slowly drifted to the right. Not lazily. But like maybe I was terrified to look that way.
It didn’t matter.
I was hinged.
Chained.
Compelled to look where Leif was standing like a beast in the entryway of the gate, both arms stretched across the width and his fingers curled into the bricks.
Like he was holding himself back.
From what, I wasn’t sure.
His wide chest heaved.
His gorgeous body coiled with aggression. At the ready to pounce.
Muscled arms rippling with strength, the few distinct tattoos on his arms twitching and jerking beneath his skin that was stretched taut.
Those brown-sugared eyes had hardened to stone. Carved of a rocky cliff that threatened to come crashing down.
The barest glow of the approaching day broke at the horizon, a murky gray that filled the sky with a shock of hope.
Staring at him, that was what I felt.
Obscene, obliterating hope.
Foolish girl.
But I trembled with it.
Shivered with the impact as I remained there barely able to stand under the weight of his gaze.
“You should go back inside,” he grated, his words panted with the exertion he’d just expelled.
I clutched tighter to the neckline of my pajamas’ shirt. “Thank you,” I managed to whisper.
“There is nothing to thank me for.”
“I disagree. You are the one who just went running out into the night.”
Reckless.
No care as to what he might be coming up against.
“I’ve done nothing but bring trouble to your door.”
I wanted to fight him on it, but I was feeling too relieved to do anything but give him a tight nod, turn around, and head back through the door.
I guessed maybe it was an invitation. I didn’t know. The only thing I was sure of was the way my heart ratcheted into a frenzy when I heard the gate swing shut and latch close before his heavy footsteps began to follow.
I felt it like a thunder in my soul, an erratic pounding that stampeded out of control.
Just as I pulled the door open, he was there, right behind me, holding it so I could enter. There was no shunning the weight of his eyes on me as I headed back through the large playroom, not sure whether to slow and face him or run away as fast as I could.
The light was muted yet dancing with the vow of a new day.
The alarm had long since been silenced.
The quiet stillness it left behind felt forged.
Counterfeit.
My footsteps were hushed. Trepid. Slowing with each step. Stopping at the head of the hall, I swiveled to look behind me.
He stood at the doorway.
Raging.
An ominous warrior.
The longer pieces of his hair tossed into his striking face. Concealing him like a shroud.
“Did you . . . see anything? Anyone? Or was this truly a false alarm?”
Leif grimaced. “I don’t fuckin’ know, Mia. I . . .” Helplessness seeped into his harsh tone. “When I came out of the guesthouse when I first heard the alarm, I thought . . . I thought I saw something at the far end of the yard. A shadow. A shape. Not sure because it all happened so fast. I went after it, but by the time I made it over the wall, there was nothing but air.”
I gulped, trying to tame the terror I could feel tremoring through my being. Creeping deeper into my spirit.
Kiss the Stars Page 12
