by K. K. Allen
My father has always been a fair man, but he’s not someone you’d ever want to push into a corner.
“See you tomorrow, Dad.”
“Thanks, Mitch.” Wolf ends the call, but his cell phone is still in his hand. It’s clear that whatever momentary happiness he felt about my dad coming on tour has dissolved. He could possibly lose everything because of Destiny Lane—the woman I’m supposed to call mother. A woman I brought into his life. Sure, Crawley is involved too, but without Destiny, Crawley would have no leverage.
Wolf’s face is redder than I’ve ever seen, and it looks like he’s about to crush his phone into pieces. I gently remove it from his grip and reach for him again. “Babe?”
Wolf turns but makes no move to wrap his arms around me. Instead, he shakes his head. “I can’t…” He chokes on his words, then tries again. “Not right now.”
“Wolf,” I plead, unsure what’s happening.
I know he’s pissed. He has every right to be pissed. But he can’t be pissed at me. We’ve been through too much to let Crawley and Destiny win. Is he starting to regret everything?
Deep down, I know we’ll be okay. I also know that Wolf has a lot to lose if we don’t win, so his emotions are completely justified. But still, his actions suffocate me with unease, and I’m helpless to remedy his pain.
He moves away, grabs his wallet from the nightstand, and walks out of the room without a word. Seconds later, I hear the front door slam.
WOLF
She’s wrapped up in a sheet, her small fist clutching the pillow under her head. She stirs as I stumble into the room. I’ve had quite a bit to drink, but not enough to forget how much I love this woman in my bed.
I remove my shoes first, kicking them to the side. Then I slide off my shirt, saving my shorts for last before climbing into bed and pulling Lyric to my naked body.
“Wolf,” she moans. She’s facing me, and even in the dark, I can see the pain in her eyes. I walked out to calm down, but in doing so, I left her with nothing. Left her alone.
“I’m here, babe. I’m sorry. Fuck, Lyric. I’m so pissed. Not at you. I shouldn’t have left like that. I just—”
“Shh,” she tells me, pulling herself closer. “It’s okay.” Her hand moves up my arm until it lands on my cheek. With gentle strokes, she forgives me, and I fall in love with her all over again.
I move down her body, placing my head on her chest. She holds me, and I wrap my arms tightly around her waist. “This is so fucked up,” I say into her shirt. “Crawley knew he had me by the balls, but he would never tell me what he had on me. He wanted to get fired.” I can hear myself slurring a little, but my mind is clear. “I thought it was weird he didn’t start trouble as soon as I kicked him off the tour. I’m so fucking stupid.”
“No!” Lyric says, her voice trembling with anger. “You are not stupid. Crawley is the stupid one. He’s not going to get away with this, Wolf. You said it yourself; he wanted to get fired.
“I did some research while you were gone,” she continues. “His termination wasn’t a layoff or an amicable parting of ways. It was him, trying to steal from you while he violated your property. And it wasn’t his first offense. You had no choice but to let him go. Not only that, but you need to look into his ties with your legal team. Someone should have caught on to what he was doing.”
My beautiful, smart Lyric. I should have known she would do everything in her power to make this better, even when she’s hurting, too.
“You just have to hang on for a bit,” she continues. “Let’s talk to my dad, your label, and the lawyers, and we’ll figure out our options. My songbook is the least of my worries while I help you fight this. Before, this was about principle and showing Destiny that she can’t control me anymore. Now, it’s so much bigger than that. I love you, Wolf. Destiny and Crawley shouldn’t fuck with the people I love.”
I look up. Lyric has tears in her eyes to match the thickness in her voice. Shit. My love for this girl runs deep.
It’s funny how fighting for someone you love gives you more strength than fighting for yourself. Lyric sounds like me when I was determined to get her songbook back. I still am. And she’s right. There’s got to be a way to win this. But right now, I just want to forget about it all. I want to bury myself inside Lyric where my world is right. Where we’re both safe.
I slide her shirt up slowly so it gently skims her skin before I pull it up it over her head. Her dark hair cascades around her face, and I’m overwhelmed by her beauty and strength. It’s everything I fell in love with, and just one of the many things that holds my heart hostage.
“You know what I realized when I was out feeling sorry for myself?”
“What?”
I move a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “At the end of the day, I’m not worried about a royalty share or songs getting taken away. You and me—we’ll just create more where that came from. But there’s one thing no one will ever have the power to take from us.” I lean in and kiss her neck, breathing her in and letting out a deep sigh. “If we walk away from this and all I have left are the clothes on my back and you in my arms, I’ll be a happy man.”
“I feel the same,” Lyric agrees. “We’re in this together, babe.”
I use my knee to spread her legs wide and press my lips to hers. “Forever.”
Lyric nods, then moans when I thrust myself into her. “Forever.”
We make sweet, slow, torturous love, neither of us speaking about Destiny or Crawley for the rest of the night.
Tonight is ours.
Tomorrow, we fight back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lyric
Friday is a freak show of epic proportions as representatives and lawyers of all kinds descend on the house, turning it from a vacation home to a battle station. It’s early evening and no one has had a drop to drink—which maybe we should reconsider. There have been no celebrations. No work. Just repurposing the mansion’s game room to host a cutthroat team of entertainment professionals.
My dad and the entire band are here as we greet Wolf’s label rep, his publicist, a legal rep from the label, and Wolf’s lawyer and his associate, who drew up the original contract in question. Five professionals coming together to put a stop to Crawley and Destiny before they can revel in what they set out to destroy—at least, I hope.
Wolf and I spent the earlier part of the day talking with my dad at the studio. The band had some cleanup work to do on the song, but the rest of the time was spent filling everyone in on the drama and preparing for the long night ahead.
My dad is convinced Crawley’s ship is sunk in more ways than one. He’s done for. Our mission now is to come up with the best approach to end him and get back what’s ours. He’s an idiot for thinking he could destroy Wolf’s career and steal from us. Using my mother, no less. And in the fallout, Destiny will be left in the dust.
But there are still so many questions. Things we need to understand before we make our next move.
First, who allowed Crawley to rewrite the terms of the original contract? Obviously Wolf wouldn’t agree to something like that, and any judge would see right through it. But why didn’t Wolf’s legal team catch it?
Even then, doesn’t the contract Wolf signed through the label override the old contract? If not, why wasn’t a new contract drawn between Crawley and the band once the band signed with the label?
And finally, the most perplexing question of all: how did Crawley and Destiny become allies in this dangerous game they’re both playing?
Questions and answers are flying around the room as the legal team reads all versions of the contracts line-by-line to see what was changed and when. And by whom. That might be the most important piece of information here.
My dad sits with me at the opposite end of the room as Wolf. We’re speaking to Davis, my dad’s attorney, as he reviews the latest three-song deal I made with Wolf.
And once again, I have to explain why I wanted no
compensation. This, apparently hurts our case, because it leaves me with no monetary tie to the situation at all and a record of my agreeing to relinquishing my rights, giving me zero leverage and zero claim to what’s mine. And Wolf’s. Even Davis admits he understands Crawley’s argument that the songbook is now his—because some of the songs were co-written with Wolf.
My head hurts, and I place it into my palms as my elbows rest on the table. My dad wraps a strong arm around me and squeezes. “Stop thinking you did something wrong here, Lyric. You may not have claim to what you signed over to Wolf, but that songbook is yours. Same with the original songs she took from you and made millions off of.”
“What original songs?” Davis asks, leaning in, forehead crinkling as he waits for my response.
I vaguely remember meeting Davis before when I was younger, but he’s changed so much he almost looks like a different man. With white hair, light gray eyes, and tan, leathery skin, he’s intimidating at first glance. I guess that’s a good thing.
My dad turns toward me. “Is it okay if we talk to Davis about this? Destiny’s label already knows.”
I nod. I have nothing to hide anymore. Nothing is more important than getting Wolf his songs back, even if that means outing Destiny for the record she plagiarized—and outing myself for letting her get away with it.
My dad goes on to explain my mom’s betrayal just as he remembers it, letting me fill in the gaps. The only reason he knew about it to begin with is because I confessed to Doug at work right after the album came out and I’d realized what I fool I had been to believe she meant well.
Doug was livid, understandably, and he wanted to get my father involved. I was okay with it at first—until Destiny threatened to end his career. That’s when I called everything off and told my dad to stay out of it. I could live without my songs. What I couldn’t live with was being the cause of my parents putting each other through hell.
“Who else knows about these recordings?” Davis asks. “You said Destiny’s label knows.”
I look at my dad, and he sighs. “Yeah, I told Destiny’s label when I went to LA yesterday. They’re letting Destiny go—at least, that’s what they say.”
Davis nods. “Got it. I need to make a few phone calls.” He looks around at the madness. “In private.”
I nod and stand, leading him down the hall to my makeshift office and switch on the light. “Take your time.”
“Thank you, Lyric.”
For a shark on the job, Davis’ presence is calming and very much welcome right now. The tension in this house could slice a brick.
I head for the stairs, wanting food and distractions. And possibly a stiff drink. I’m almost to the staircase when a dark, shadowy figure moving through the hallway makes me freeze. Whoever it is appears to be searching for something. When the figure’s head angles toward me slightly, I realize it belongs to the associate on Wolf’s legal team. He looks to be around my age—and permanently nervous.
I smile to ease the tension. “Can I help you find something? This house is massive; I know.”
He jumps and swivels to face me, his eyes widening. His mouth opens, then closes, his gaze fixed on me as he swallows.
“Bathroom is taken,” he says finally. “Is there another?”
I smile, pushing away my unease. He may be awkward, but he’s harmless. “I’m heading upstairs. There are a few up there. You can follow me.”
We get to the main floor, and I point him toward the nearest bathroom. Then I busy myself making snacks and pouring drinks for our guests. It’s a nice break from the chaos downstairs.
I’m just about done loading up a tray when my dad runs upstairs with Davis and Wolf on his tail.
“Lyric,” my dad says, his voice almost frantic, “where are the recordings you have of your original songs? Do you have them on you?”
My heart speeds up. “No. They’re in Seattle at my storage locker.” I look around at the faces, wondering where this is going. “Why?”
“We need those tapes in our possession before we move forward,” Davis says. I wait, still trying to understand. “I just got off the phone with my connection at Wicked, Wolf’s label. They mentioned the recordings to Soaring, trying to get them to give up their pursuit of Wolf’s songs. Destiny and Crawley were in the room during the call. They heard everything. If Destiny gets her hands on those tapes, we lose the only evidence we have.”
My face falls. I look to my dad, who looks as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “What happens now?”
Davis looks between us all. “We need those tapes in our possession to win this thing.”
My dad grabs my hand and squeezes. “Do you have someone you can trust in Seattle who can overnight the package, pumpkin? Better yet, do you know someone who can get the recordings and fly here with them? Tonight?”
My immediate answer is no. But I rack my brain just in case. Trust has never been an easy thing for me. Not after my dad sent me away, my mom stole from me, and then Tony cheated on me with my best friend. Do I trust anyone in Seattle enough to give them access to something so important? I don’t think I do.
I’m about to shake my head when Wolf comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Babe, what about Deloris? Doesn’t she live in Seattle now?”
Deloris. My heart skips around in my chest, and I widen my eyes. Oh, my God. Deloris.
“Yeah! I mean, I could ask her. She has a job. I don’t know if she could get away, but I could ask.”
“And you trust this Deloris?” Davis asks. “We can’t afford to take any risks right now.”
I nod heavily. “Yes. I trust her with my life.”
Davis nods. “Okay, then give her a call. If she agrees, I’ll arrange the flight. You’ll just have to tell her how to access the tapes and pick her up when she arrives.”
I reach for my phone and search for her number, still not exactly sure what’s happening. “What do my original recordings have to do with Wolf’s songs, though? They’ll prove Destiny stole from me when I was seventeen, but that still leaves Crawley.”
Davis shakes his head. “It’s all the proof we need. Not for court, but this is how we encourage Destiny to work against Crawley. Think about it. If Destiny gets outed, she’ll lose all credibility. No one will want to work with her. But we can cut a deal with her if she gives up Crawley. He won’t even be able to start an indie label in his mom’s basement with the reputation he’ll earn once everyone knows what he’s been up to. And that’s how Crawley loses his leverage, and then he will return your songbook.” He looks at Wolf. “As for the rest, we’re working on it.”
My head goes fuzzy with his words. I hope he’s right.
With a deep sigh, I pick up my phone to call Deloris. The moment her voice comes over the line, I start crying.
“Oh honey, what’s wrong?” Her sweet, velvety voice pours over me just like I remember. It hurts how much I miss this woman. A woman who was more mother to me than my own flesh and blood.
I wipe my eyes and take a breath. “I’ll explain everything. I promise. But I need to ask you a favor. Something has happened—is happening. You’re the only one I could think to call. You’re the only one there I can trust.”
“Sweetie, take a breath and just ask. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
I laugh between sobs. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”
She laughs right back, her voice just as melodic as I remember. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still do whatever I can to help you.”
With that reassurance, I take a deep breath to steady my voice and let it out. “Do you think you could fly to Miami? Tonight? If you can, there’s something I need you to do. I’m so sorry to be asking you this.”
“Don’t be silly, Lyric. You have nothing to be sorry for. I have the kids tonight, but I could leave here in the morning as long as I’m back first thing Monday.”
My eyes widen, and a relieved breath leaves me in a whoosh. Deloris was nev
er the type to questions my motives. She’s always trusted me to do the right thing. And she knows I never ask for help unless I really need it.
I cover the mouthpiece and relay what she said to Davis. Everyone scrambles into action to plan for Deloris’ mission. The storage unit is locked by a passcode, so I tell her to call me in the morning so I can give it to her when she’s at the facility. At this point, I don’t feel comfortable transferring that information over phone or email.
She’s booked on the first flight from Sea-Tac, which will get her to Miami International by eight twenty-five in the evening. That’s a lot later than we wanted, but it will have to do.
We decide not to tell the others our plan. This is safer staying between us for now. In the meantime, we’ll let the rest of the team work out how to prove that Wolf’s original contracts were illegally modified by Crawley.
It’s nearly ten o’clock when I start to head back downstairs with a tray of fresh fruit and veggie slices. Exhaustion slows me down a little, making me jump when I see a figure rounding the corner from the hallway. We collide, food tumbling from the tray as it crashes to the ground and I look up, wide-eyed and heart pounding.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, stooping down to fill the tray with the fallen goods. It’s the associate from Wolf’s legal team. Has he been up here the entire time?
I stumble back, my side pressed against the hallway wall as I examine the odd man with his long, light brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and rosy cheeks. “It’s okay,” I say, my voice catching a little in my throat when I notice the sweat beading on the man’s forehead.
He’s still stacking fruit and veggies on the tray while I examine him. He’s shaking, like he’s afraid I’m going to punish him for spilling veggies all over the floor. What’s his problem?
