“You’re my good cause.”
“Lyrik.” It was nothing but exasperation.
“What?” he deadpanned.
A heavy sigh pilfered free. “I love you. Adore you. I’m pretty sure you’re the most wonderful man on the planet.”
Men like him were rare.
Hell, I was beginning to think they had become obsolete.
Loneliness swelled.
With everything, it shouldn’t even be a consideration or thought.
But it didn’t matter that I knew better. There were just times . . . times when I wished I had someone to turn to the same way as they could turn to me. Someone who wrapped me up in their arms at night and whispered that everything would be okay.
“Go. Be with your wife. Your friends. Enjoy tonight. Just . . . let me try to do the same. Please.”
Not possible.
But at least I could give him an out.
And I was trying.
Trying to act normal. To put on a good show. If the rest of his guests who were parading around in all their diamonds and exaggerated smiles could do it, no cares in sight, then I could do it, too, right?
“I mean, seriously . . . this is ridiculous, Lyrik. You have Dreams Don’t Die playing on your freaking patio.” I lowered my voice like it was some kind of secret.
Believe me, it was a big freaking deal. I’d had to stifle a squeal when I’d gone into the kitchen earlier and found Sean Layne digging around in the refrigerator.
Fangirl (almost) down.
It wouldn’t have been pretty.
And let’s be clear, I was so not into musicians. I’d sworn off that kind of heartbreak a long time ago.
I’d witnessed enough through Lyrik and his friends.
They were too passionate.
Too volatile.
Too much trouble.
I did not have the time nor the heart for that kind of stress in my life.
But still . . . Sean Layne.
Lyrik hiked a casual shrug. “We own them.”
Right.
Of course, they did.
My big brother was the lead guitarist of Sunder, one of the most popular bands in the world, a band that now owned their own record label, spearheaded by their original lead singer, Sebastian Stone.
Lyrik? He was a rockstar, and I wasn’t talking the someday I’ll be famous kind..
He was a guy who stopped traffic when he walked down the street. Someone who couldn’t walk into a store without being accosted for his picture and his signature and half the time his freaking shirt.
But he was so much more than that.
He was a man who’d made horrible mistakes and paid for them dearly. A man I’d watched struggle with addiction and suffer with the regrets of it.
A man who’d stumbled time and time again.
He was also a man who’d clawed his way out of the self-destruction to become something great. A man who’d found the girl of his dreams and made the family he’d believed he’d never have.
But the thing about him becoming great was that he’d always been great to me.
It didn’t matter the sins he’d amassed or the wrongs he’d committed.
He’d always been my hero, and the last thing I wanted was to drag him down tonight.
“So go show them they were a worthy acquisition.” My brows lifted with the prod.
He hesitated. “You sure you’re fine? Saw your face, Mia. Didn’t like it. Will call this whole damn thing off if it makes you more comfortable. Just say the word, night’s over.”
“No. That’s the last thing I want.”
I looked back out to the great room. It was open to the lofts that circled above from the second floor. A massive wall of windows at the far end that overlooked Los Angeles had been drawn open, letting the warm California air invade the space.
Just beyond the doors and next to the negative-edge pool that overlooked Los Angeles, Dreams Don’t Die played on a makeshift stage. The sultry indie song they played vibrated the house and rumbled along the polished wooden floors.
Strains of music flooded the rooms, the walls throbbing with depth and sensuality.
The crush of bodies and the volume of voices and laughter trying to rise above it gave the atmosphere a vibe of barely-controlled chaos.
As if we were climbing toward the peak of something magnificent.
Or maybe something horrible.
But Lyrik didn’t need to be concerned with that.
“Go be with your wife. She is looking awful sexy tonight.”
There.
Temptation.
One I knew he couldn’t resist.
No dog could resist a bone. And Tamar West had this bad boy collared.
Lyrik cut an eager glance to the side where she was in a small circle. She was cracking up where she chatted with her best friends, Shea Stone and Willow Evans, both wives of Sunder members.
My sister-in-law, who I adored and loved like she was my own blood, was wearing this black clingy dress that hugged every inch of her abundant curves, the dress super long and hitting the floor with slits riding up the front of the skirt and diving down her cleavage.
Ink covered most of her skin, too.
She wore five-inch heels and a gleam in her blue eyes.
My brother was head-over-heels for her. Steel turned to putty that she held in the palms of her hands.
I’d never thought he’d love again until the day he’d shown up at our parents’ humble house with her in tow.
It was clear he’d been long gone before he’d even known it himself.
But sometimes love took us hostage before we even realized we’d been captured.
Lyrik looked back at me, mouth quirking at the side. “My wife is always sexy. She’s just a little . . . extra tonight.”
“Extra is always good.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be giving her plenty extra,” he drew out.
With the back of my hand, I smacked him on the chest. Apparently, I’d given him the green light to take it too far. With Lyrik, all roads were always wide open. “Eww. I can do without the innuendo, thank you very much. It’s bad enough I have to watch you slobbering all over her every day.”
He rumbled a chuckle, way too pleased with himself. “Hey, just tellin’ it like it is.”
Laughing under my breath, I gestured in the direction of the raving crowd. Softness infiltrated my words. “Would you get out of here and stop worrying about me? I will be just fine.”
He hesitated. “You’re sure?”
“One-hundred-percent.”
Okay, like . . . two percent.
“Besides, you have more security here than Fort Knox.”
Still facing me, he took a couple steps backward. “That’s because what I’m guarding is more important.”
He swiveled on his heel and started for the mass of people crushed in his house. Right before he got to the end of the hall, he turned back to face me.
Something severe had etched itself into his expression. “Every single person here is my guest, Mia.”
My head shook slightly, unsure, not understanding the flip that had just been made.
His expression darkened. “But that doesn’t mean they’re good. That they can be trusted. You get what I’m telling you?”
There was no mirth in the warning.
No tease.
Just the truth of what he said.
I swallowed around the lump that had made itself home at the base of my throat for the last three weeks, gave him a tight nod. “I know that.”
Like I hadn’t stumbled on my fair share of scumbags.
He dipped a nod. “Good. Then be careful.”
“I will. I promise.”
I wondered if I’d already known it was a lie when I said it.
Two
Mia
Lyrik was right.
Not all of his guests could be trusted.
My pulse raced wild.
A frantic boom, boom, boom that
I could feel thundering in the middle of my chest.
Panic raced, my throat closing off and my sight going blurry.
I tried to free myself from the hold of the man who was breathing his vileness all over me. Before I could even make sense that he’d been waiting for me when I’d left the restroom, he’d backed me into a wall at the base of the curved staircase.
His stench stung my nostrils. Sweat drenched in depravation.
His breath a toxic blend of alcohol and sex and corruption.
He edged me farther against the wall, as if his admission to this party had purchased him any evil.
“I said to get out of my way,” I forced out under my breath, teeth gritting in the hope that it might keep the terror that was streaking through my veins from seeping out of my pores.
The last thing I wanted was this asshole to sense my fear.
A monster scenting its prey.
“Come now. Don’t be like that,” he slurred, pressing his nose to my throat. “I just wanted to say hi. Introduce myself. You look awful pretty wandering around here all by yourself.”
I cringed. “I’m not alone. Now let me go.”
He tsked like my statement was absurd. “I should have known Lyrik West would invite the prettiest girls to his party. He always has the best entertainment.”
I would have laughed if vomit hadn’t already risen to my throat, vocal cords chained in alarm and dread.
This jerk had no idea my brother would gladly snap his neck. Gut him and leave him floating face-down in a river.
But right that second, my brother was nowhere to be found and neither was any of the security.
We were hidden by the curve of the stairs, tucked in the shadows and concealed by the din of music.
Voices and laughter echoed from the main room.
Nothing but taunts and jeers that pounded my ears.
Lyrik’s warning screamed, and fear pressed down as the bastard covered me with his sweaty, meaty body.
There was a halo of it.
A dark, dense fog.
I struggled for a breath, sickened by the same man who had almost sent me to my knees two hours earlier.
Turns out, I should have trusted my instincts, after all.
“Your heart is beating so fast. Excited, love?”
Love?
This guy was seriously confused. Confused and deranged and disgusting, and I had the overwhelming compulsion to spit in his face.
I did.
Shouting a profanity, he gripped me by the jaw.
Hard.
“You fuckin’ bitch,” he gritted in his English accent, cinching down tighter. “You’ll learn better than to cross me.”
Something fake and desperate bled from his being. I wondered if he were half as desperate as me.
Urges hit, a storm of panic and survival.
Instinct kicking in.
Fight or flight.
I surged forward, taking the jerk by surprise.
My forehead connected with his.
Hard.
A white-hot splinter of pain cracked through my head at the connection, but at least I was prepared for it. I managed to keep my footing at the impact when he completely lost his and stumbled back.
Momentarily stunned.
I didn’t give him time to recover.
I grabbed him by the shoulders, and I drew my knee up as hard as I could. The crunch vibrated up my leg when my knee made contact with his crotch.
The slit of my dress ripped at the same time.
His wail of agony was at one with the chaos, with the throbbing laughter and the beat of the drums and the pulse of the music that made it feel as if I’d stepped into a house of horrors.
Those crazy-ass mirrors surrounding me. Distorting everything. My brain rattled and my spirit shaking.
Adrenaline sloshed through my veins, bleeding out and draining free and leaving me gasping.
Visions rushed.
Taking me to another time. Another place.
Fast flickers of a nightmare that I would forever relive.
Frantic, desperate.
Lana on her knees.
The glint of silver.
A deafening ring.
Blood.
Blood.
So much blood.
I choked on the memory. The man in my gallery. Backing us into the corner. Pulling the trigger while I’d had to watch hopelessly.
I staggered backward while the dirtbag bent in two, struggling to get his breath.
Flight kicked in.
The desperate need to flee.
Hide.
Remove myself from the situation.
I raced upstairs, the torn skirt of my dress clutched in my trembling hands, holding it up so I wouldn’t trip on the long white fabric. The second I hit the landing, I ran to the right, my high heels clicking on the wooden floor as I raced down the hall.
I bypassed the room I’d been staying in for the last three weeks and, instead, I rushed all the way to the end of the corridor where a second set of stairs led to the top floor.
It called to me like a beacon. Like safety was written in red, glaring lights.
Hand clinging to the railing, I fumbled up the steps to the third floor, and a harsh breath of relief gushed from my lungs when I caught sight of the closed double doors on the right.
I burst through them like my life depended on it.
I slammed the doors shut behind me and whirled around so I could lock them.
Hands shaking.
Spirit manic.
Nothing quite cooperating.
Metal scraped as the lock finally engaged, the sound of it like a gunshot reverberating through the dark, vacant room. I dropped my head to the ornate wood, hot air jerking in and out of my lungs as I tried to steady myself after the altercation.
Never before had I considered myself weak.
And now all it took was a jerk getting handsy and I was falling apart.
I should march back downstairs and tell my brother. Make a statement. Make him pay.
And the only thing I wanted to do?
Hide.
Remain concealed and protected behind the thick, solid doors.
Here, where the music was muted, nothing but a dull vibration that rumbled underfoot.
Voices distant.
It gave the illusion that I’d risen above it all.
Besides, the last thing I wanted was for my brother to get arrested for murder tonight.
Tomorrow I’d tell him. When enough time had passed. When rash, imprudent reactions were less likely to be made.
For tonight, I’d wait here.
When my heaving breaths began to slow, I finally peeled myself from the door and swiveled around to face the duskiness of the room.
The massive library that Lyrik had attempted to turn into an art studio.
It was where my spirit had immediately been called to in turmoil, as if it heard the melody of this place, even though it no longer knew how to sing.
Like all the beauty had been ripped from it that horrible night.
I had no idea if I would ever get it back.
My eyes scanned the lapping shadows of the rambling space.
A muted sheen of silvery moonlight flooded through the huge circular window that was made of white and black translucent stained glass. It faced out upon the front of the luxurious home, distorted the view in a gorgeous sheen of sparkling crystal and cast the rich, plush furniture and tapestries in shadows.
The floors were covered in thick, woven rugs.
Shelves of books lined the towering walls, all the way to the severe pitch of the cathedral ceiling.
My gaze moved to the far corner.
Drawn to where easels of partially-painted pictures stood like half-bared secrets.
The obscured faces painted on the canvases veiled in mystery.
Blowing out a haggard breath, I eased deeper into the room, and I let my fingertips gently flutter over a picture.
The
man’s face misshapen.
Haunted eyes stared out into the nothingness.
I moved to the next, stood at where the small child crouched at the edge of a gurgling stream, staring at her reflection in the glistening water, her angelic face contorted.
Sadness crested and rose, crashing like a tsunami of broken dreams.
Hopes shattered in one careless, senseless act.
I traced my fingertips over the image, wishing it could somehow seep into my soul, breathe its life back into me.
I thought I felt a flicker of it.
Energy.
A depth that had been missing that billowed and blew. A soft whisper that breezed through the room.
Chills flashed, and the fine hairs on my arms and neck lifted in a whoosh of awareness.
I froze, throat closing off as that sensation twisted and cut into me with a stab of fear. As I realized I was not alone.
Ever so slowly, I shifted around.
One-part terror.
One-part curiosity.
My eyes narrowed as I struggled to peer farther into the hushed shadows at the far end of the room where I felt the crash of energy emanating from.
A brewing of intensity.
My heart shivered in my chest as a dark figure sitting on an oversized chair slowly came into view.
At the sight of him, a scream gurgled in my throat, though it got locked in the barbs of tightness.
My stomach twisted into a thousand knots.
I should run. No doubt. Just get the hell out of there and pretend like I hadn’t even noticed a man lurking in the far corner.
But I was frozen.
Slammed by another bolt of that severity.
Bound by shockwave after shockwave of energy that surged and rocked, gluing my feet to the ground.
He just sat there, not making a move, eyes clearly watching me even though I couldn’t make them out through the darkness.
“Oh my god, you scared me,” I finally managed to force out. My gaze darted to the door, searching for the closest emergency exit and not knowing whether I should use it or not.
Oh, I should.
I knew I should.
But I just stood there, robbed of the sense of flight, stammering, “Wh-wha-what are you doing in here?” at the faceless silhouette.
The outline of him was nothing but wide shoulders and hard body, legs stretched out in front of him so casually.
Catch Me When I Fall Page 36
