by H. M. Irwing
Lost
A Contemporary New Adult Romance
By
H. M. Irwing
Copyright © 2018 by H. M. Irwing
All Rights Reserved
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the author and publisher.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Other Books by H. M. Irwing
Coming Soon
About the Author
Prologue
Los Angeles
Eighteen years earlier
“I never would have believed it; a pair of angels.”
The tender words belied the menace in his tone as the masked robber stared down into the twin cradles. The six-month-olds were not identical. Not only was one dark and the other fair, but the baby boy had vivid blue eyes that he shared with his mother while his twin sister’s eyes were amber, like her father’s. She was a golden cherub all over, from her light hair to her lightly bronzed skin, while her brother’s darker colouring more resembled his part African-American father’s heritage.
“Starr’s kids were born with the proverbial silver spoon,” said the blond woman with piercing blue eyes. “This is only fair.”
Not quite the infant’s mother but her identical match. Twins ran in the Shubert’s family bloodline. Their genes were strong that way. Stacy and Mary Shubert shared the same long blond locks, the same baby blue eyes and the same features. There was nothing physical to tell them apart. But the resemblance ended there. Still, their even more visceral differences hadn’t mattered in the long run. Not ‘til the rock star legend in making, Knyte Starr, fell not for Stacy, but her sister Mary. Even though he’d seen Stacy first. That had rankled. That had hurt. But no more. Not after this night. The only ones who would be hurting now would be her sister Mary and her unfortunate choice in a husband, Knyte Starr.
It should have been her, Stacy, with whom he fell in love. Stacy whom he’d married. These should have been her children that she’d had with him. It never made sense that he’d chosen Mary over her. It never made sense that she’d been deprived of what was rightfully hers.
“What are you waiting for? Take them!” Stacy all but spat out. This was called for. After what Mary had done to her. Stealing Knyte away from her and leaving her with, with—No. This was fitting. This was fair.
“Them?” The masked man’s amused tones were not at all muffled by the mask he wore. “There’s no way I am taking both his brats. One is enough. One is vengeance. Both is charity.” His chuckles of laughter rang out loudly and Stacy was forced to glance around in alarm before frantically shushing him.
“What are you afraid of darlin’? You and me, we’re here all alone, babe. What say we fuck around a little. I could do you on their bed. Or right here by their babes.” His chuckle rang out once more. Vicious and oddly appealing.
Stacy glanced away from him to stare at the flickering TV screen. It was a five-star hotel. The service shouldn’t have been this bad. The Grammy Awards flickered live on screen. They would be there, in the melee of celebrities. Mingling with the who’s who of the industry. Knyte might even win his nomination for best newcomer. And where did that leave her, stuck here in their hotel room, babysitting their brats.
Enough was enough. It was time to puncture a hole in their fool’s paradise. A hole large enough to fit one brawling baby. “Alright then, take one. And yes, fuck me first. Fuck me all over this god-awful place.”
His chuckle rang out again, long and lengthy, and then he was reaching for the vivacious blond. He didn’t understand what Knyte saw in Mary Shubert Starr. Not when Stacy clearly had all the sexual allure. Then again, he couldn’t understand why Knyte had married at all. Limiting himself to just one of twin sisters, not when he could have had them both for the taking. The demure Mary and the flashy Stacy. Hell, he could have fucked them both and died a happy man. But no, Knyte chose to lock himself away in a lifelong commitment to just the one. A mistake he himself would never make. Mary Shubert Starr had been his twin to fuck first. But he could just as easily settle for fucking the other. They both looked alike anyhow. What did it matter either way? Chuckling easily, the masked man reached for Stacy’s unresisting frame and proceeded to lay her bare to his gaze.
It was five hours later, and well past midnight, when the alarm was raised, the police were called in, and Blaze Starr—son to the up and coming celebrity singer Knyte Starr—was officially reported missing.
****
Melbourne, Australia
Eight years on
“Mama?”
Eight-year-old Lucy called out in a hush whisper, shaking her frizzy head of golden-brown hair, staring confusedly at the kids staring back at her. She held tighter to her mama’s hand and tilted her head to stare up at her, wondering if she had noticed the odd stares Lucy was getting. Her amber-gold eyes winced against the flare of light from the sun that glared back at her. But she could still make out her mama’s angelic halo of golden-blond curls, and when she turned to look down at her, the bright, baby blues of her mama’s eyes.
But it was not the colour of her mama’s hair and eyes that had Lucy clenching her little fingers tighter about her mama’s, it was the frizzy texture of her own hair and the difference in the colour of their skin.
Lucy stared up imploringly at her mama, wanting to leave the party, but her mama was oblivious to her silent pleas. So little Lucy tore her hand from her mama’s grasp and took off into the crowd, determined to run away from the unkind stares that the other kids were giving her. But she should have known better than to run from her mama’s protection. They came whenever she was alone. They came to taunt her, to call out hurtful words at her, to make fun of her hair. To make fun of the colour of her skin.
“Running away already, Lucy?” The freckle-faced boy was her regular bully.
Lucy firmed the sudden wobble to her chin and lifted her button nose up a notch.
“I am not running,” she lied blatantly.
“Oh, liar! She most certainly is running, Jack,” called out a little girl with a luxurious length of ebon dark hair.
“Well she should run, Sally. She should run away. She doesn’t belong here. Everyone knows she’s adopted,” laughed Jack. “Did you know that, Lucy? Did you know you were adopted?”
Lucy’s chin wobbled threateningly, but it was really the blurring glimmer of her gaze that had her worried. She knew it wouldn’t take much more to have her turn on the taps, but Lucy, as a rule, didn’t cry. She was stronger than that. Sure, she had wondered too if she was adopted; she wondered every single day. But her mama would have told her if it were true. If not her mama, then her papa would have done so, surely.
Lucy turned then to look searchingly for her papa in the crowd. He had to be there somewhere. He would rescue her from these bullies. He would set them right on the truth. But her papa was not to be found and the crowd of kids was growing around h
er.
Lucy tightened her hands into little fists, determined to thrash it out if she had to. She was not afraid to take on the lot of them. But they were not advancing on her with fists raised. They slyly resorted to taunts they knew would hurt more.
“Adopted! Adopted! Adopted!”
The chant started as a whisper. So as not to draw the attention of the adults. But as more voices joined the chorus, a sudden hush spread over the crowd of adults. Lucy then saw her father coming for her through the parted crowds. He looked nothing like her either—pale skinned and dark-eyed. Both her parents were fair, while she was dark.
A fact that became even more glaringly obvious as they came for her against the backdrop of the children’s mean chant. But it was not her mama or her papa who reached her first.
The little fist flew out of nowhere to land with smacking intensity on the rude boy’s plump face. His freckled cheek swallowed the punch, and the momentum silenced his chant and sent him sprawling to his ass. Lucy ran to her rescuer’s side.
“Jace!”
Jace turned to face Lucy at the call of his name. The expression in his eyes was something she had never seen before in her happy-go-lucky happy friend. His baby blue gaze stared into hers with an expression that was far older than his ten years. Jace reached out his hand for hers. Lucy was quick to slip her hand into his.
Turning back to face the crowd of gaping children, Jace muttered with a hard glare, “Leave my friend alone!”
Lucy was promptly led back to the safety of her mama, but the Little family didn’t stay long at the party after that.
“See you tomorrow,” Jace called out to Lucy as she left with her family. Waving back at Jace, Lucy offered him a wide smile. “You sure will, Jace.” Then she mouthed the words at him. Thank you. With another wide beaming smile, Lucy was gone. But her need to find out the truth was burning more brightly in her little heart than ever. That wouldn’t be gone until she racked up the nerve to ask the question that had been haunting her for just about forever. Who was she? Was she really her parents’ kid?
Why did she look so different from them?
If nothing else, Lucy was more determined than ever to have her frizzy head of hair shorn short.
Two years on, and Lucy Little was ten when she discovered that she had two-real names. Her first had been Luxy Ara Starr, but now she was only Lucy Little.
“Shhh…,” whispered Jace, pressing a finger to his lips.
Lucy giggled, but followed silently where he led. They made their way along the long corridor that led off to Jace’s room. He led her inside and to the large bed dressed in Batman-printed sheets. It was his secret pleasure that only Lucy knew. At twelve, Jace felt he was too old for his DC-themed sheets and didn’t like it bandied about that he still slept on them.
“Look at what I got, Lucy,” he said, pointing to the shiny object that sat on the middle of his bed.
“Oh my, is that… is that,” stuttered Lucy in her excitement, “A guitar?”
“A present from my dad,” said Jace with an indifferent shrug. “I told him I wanted to learn.”
“Why’d you say that, Jace?” Lucy knew Jace was not musically inclined. He was more the type to spend his days outdoors. He was athletically inclined, like Lucy.
“I thought I could take lessons,” he smiled. “Then you could sing along.”
Lucy beamed, but then her smile wavered. She’d just had some upsetting news and she was not yet sure just how she should take it. She may only be ten, but she knew that her news would be as devastating to Jace as it had been to her. Jace was the best of friends like that. He felt her pain and shared it, and Lucy liked to think she did as much for him.
“I don’t know if I want to sing, Jace.”
That earned a laugh off him. “But Lucy, you sing all the freaking time.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“Do not!”
Jace sighed, knowing from experience just where this was heading. Lucy had shorn her frizzy hair short, but that did nothing to temper her swift rise to anger.
“Well you could sing along, if you wanted to.” Jace compromised.
Lucy stared at the guitar on his bed. Her fingers tingled. She loved music. She loved to sing. But her heart felt too heavy to contemplate singing just now. She doubted she could ever bring herself to sing again.
But she didn’t think she could tell Jace that. Not yet. Not ‘til she got a grip of things herself. It was an awful thing to have all your worst suspicions be proven true. That’s exactly what had happened to Lucy. She felt her eyes tear up, but held her breath and refused to let it drop.
It didn’t matter.
What mama had told her, didn’t matter. She had a papa, the only papa she wanted, and he loved her too. He’d said so. This other man didn’t matter. She didn’t know him. She didn’t want to know him. But then her heart pinged—and a brother. Lucy found out she had one of those, too. Her very own twin. Just as her little sister Emily had Cat, and her little sister Cat had Emily. Only Lucy’s twin was missing. Missing? What did that even mean?
Lucy was hesitant to ask more questions, but she knew she had plenty, all bottled up within her and growing more pressing with each passing day. Would she ever have them all answered? Did she even want to know anymore?
Fear unlike any she had ever experienced before had her in its grasps. It had been building within her ‘til she felt all choked up with it. Any moment now she would burst. The fear would overpower her. A strangled sound that was entirely raw escaped her lips and Lucy turned anguished, tawny eyes to meet Jace’s startled gaze.
“Are you all right, Lucy?”
He came to stare down at her.
Lucy shook her head helplessly at him. She didn’t know what to say. He was her only friend. She didn’t want that to change too. She couldn’t afford to be maudlin and cry. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. She would still be exactly who she was—a girl with two fathers. One she’d known her whole life and the other she’d never met.
“Do you want to meet him, Lucy?”
It was a question her mama had asked. What was she supposed to say? Should she lie and say yes? Or tell her the truth? That she already had a papa, and he was all she wanted. But mama had said that Knyte Starr was her real father.
Did that mean Patrick Little was fake? Had he been pretending to be her father all this time? Lucy didn’t think so. The love she knew he felt for her was real. That love wouldn’t let her think otherwise. But that was what led to her greatest fear. What did her real father think? Did he love her too? More importantly, would he come and take her from the papa she already loved?
“Perhaps, I should learn too,” said Lucy, instead. Reaching past Jace to lift the heavy guitar up in her thin arms. “Maybe you’re right, Jace. Maybe, I should sing along some.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his, offering him a brittle smile. She would tell him all, but not yet. For now, she would take pleasure in the gift he had given her, and it was a gift. Lucy was not so stupid not to recognise it for what it was.
The music, the guitar, was his gift to her, not his fathers to him. Music was her love. Music was her life. Not Jace’s. Jace knew this. He was also right. She didn’t have to leave it completely, just because her real father was a famous singer. But even he no longer sang anymore. Not since her brother went missing anyhow. Or so mama said.
Lucy had known instantly that she should stop singing too. She took too much pleasure in her singing, and that couldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be fair while her brother was missing. But looking at Jace’s eager face now, Lucy knew she didn’t have to stop singing completely. Jace liked her singing. She shouldn’t stop for him. She could sing for Jace alone.
Three years on, and Lucy Little was all of thirteen.
“I can’t believe he did it!”
Lucy didn’t usually speak aloud to herself, but this was just too much to contain. It was her birthday! Hers and her twin’s, Blaze. Not
the birthday she celebrated with her family but her real birthday. The day she was born thirteen years ago. She couldn’t believe that her father, who claimed in his letters to love her, would do this now. Not after he’d vowed not to.
She couldn’t believe he released a new single. Even now, her ears burned to the unique mix of soul with new wave. The combination was electric, positively singular in its ability to rock the charts. There was no questioning that it was a number one she was listening to. But the deep soothing timbre of her birth father’s voice was not something she was pleased to hear.
Her pace was angry as she stomped her way up the stairs to Jace’s room. The only good thing that had come from her confrontation with her mum that morning had been her willingness to drop Lucy over at Jace’s. Perhaps, dropping by at Jace’s unannounced wasn’t the smartest thing she could have done, but when one was scant for choices as was Lucy, she ended up running to Jace with all her troubles.
Nearing her goal, the momentum picked up with her anger, so that when she lifted her hands to shove his door open, Lucy’s face was already contorted with the anger she wanted her friend to channel out of her. She opened her mouth to call out Jace’s name when the sight that met her eyes had a gasping a big ‘O’ instead.
Mum had told her she had no business marching in on a boy unannounced. She had been telling her the same for quite some time now, since Jace turned thirteen to be exact, but until now, Lucy had never wondered over her reasons why. Sure, she’d known Jace had an active… life. But knowing it and seeing it were two very different things.
“Ewww! Jace!”
“Lucy!”
Perhaps calling him out on it had not been her best of ideas but she never expected the barrage of foul language he threw at her.
“Get the hell out, Lucy!”
She ran. Back the way she came, down the stairs and out the door. The tears she had not yet shed now gushing down her cheeks in a torrent. Not just because of what her father had done—a betrayal of sorts for releasing that single when he had said that night thirteen years back, that he would never sing again, not until his son was found.
