by K. K. Allen
“What do you want, Crawley? Just tell me what you want, and then you can tell me where Lyric is.”
I hear a whimper in the background. It doesn’t sound like it belongs to Lyric, so I assume it’s Deloris. My stomach twists as I bite my tongue.
“A little birdie informed me that our contract won’t hold up in court, and Destiny got fired from the label yesterday, which means I have no one to manage, no money to start my own label, and my reputation is in the shitter. But none of that matters, does it? Because I have your precious Lyric and Deloris, the mother she always wanted. Do I have your attention now?”
A tortured scream tears through the short pause and my heart shatters into a million pieces at the sound. That was Lyric. I pull the car over to the side of the road and put it in park, gripping the steering wheel and imagining it’s Crawley’s neck.
What is he doing to her?
“If you touch her, you’re dead. Do you hear me? Imagine the most excruciating pain you’ve ever suffered and multiply it by a hundred. You are fucking dead.”
Crawley laughs, and I barely register Mitch leaving the backseat, opening my door, and pulling me out of the car. “You, take the back. We need to keep moving, and you need to keep him talking,” he whispers. “For as long as possible. We’re almost to the last spot Lyric’s phone was detected. Try to get Crawley to turn it back on without raising suspicion.” He turns to Derrick. “And you have Hedge keep alerting Lyric’s phone until we know where she is.”
I suck in a breath and nod. Why didn’t I fucking think of that? Adrenaline surges through me like a wildfire. I like having a mission. A mission gives me something to focus on other than that scream.
Mitch nods to the backseat, where Rex is tapping something on his phone. I scramble in and return my focus to Crawley.
“I don’t think you understand who’s about to kill whom, Wolf,” Crawley is saying. “I’m afraid you’re about to get a hard lesson about who’s the boss around here. It will always be me. Now listen up,” he says. “I need money, and I need a plane out of here. When I get to where I’m going, I’ll make arrangements for you to see your precious Lyric again.”
I grit my teeth. “Alive,” I huff out. “When I see her again, she better be alive. You don’t have to ask twice about the money or the transportation. But we’re doing this shit tonight. You’re not touching a hair on either of their heads.”
He chuckles again, and I swear, the first thing I do when I come face-to-face with Crawley—because I will come face-to-face with Crawley—will be to grab him by the throat so he can never laugh again.
“Easy now, tiger. Travel arrangements take time. And so do wire transfers. I have a contact waiting for you at the Miami airport. Be there in no more than two hours with your bank account information. You’ll recognize him.” He’s talking about Cole. I grind my teeth to keep from saying something I’ll regret. “He’ll be assisting you in your wire transfer of ten million dollars. Once the amount is secure, I’ll get on a plane—to where, you’ll never know. When I touch down, and not a second sooner, I will make arrangements for Lyric to be delivered to you.”
“What about Deloris and Doug?” Mitch asks from the front seat.
There’s a second of silence as Crawley registers the new voice. “Mitch, you bloody wanker!” he says, his voice like venom seeping through my veins. “I’d recognize my old pal anywhere.”
Mitch shakes his head, holding back his own retort.
“Congrats on the new gig managing Wolf,” Crawley says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I think it’s a fine choice, what with your music going to shit anyway. You have some pretty big shoes to fill, though. Your ex-wife got to take an extra close look recently, and I’m happy to report, she’d agree.”
Mitch shakes his head as he continues. “Enough, Crawley. You have a deal. Ten million. We’ll head to the airport now. What about Doug and Deloris?”
“I suppose I can deliver Deloris, but I don’t know about Doug. Haven’t seen the lad.” I can almost see the creepy grin on his face, and I can’t wait to wipe it off with my fist.
“Put Lyric on the phone,” I demand.
Crawley groans loudly. “Shouldn’t you be rushing off to the airport?”
“I need to know she’s safe,” I say, raising my voice.
“She’s fine. Have I ever lied to you?” He laughs again, making my blood boil.
I look up to catch Mitch eyeing me, silently telling me to calm the fuck down and keep Crawley talking. I turn to Derrick, who is quietly giving Mitch directions. They know what they’re doing. And they’re calm because we’ve almost made it to the pinned location. Lyric is going to be fine. I squeeze my eyes shut, and for the first time in my life, I pray.
Rex nudges my side and hands me his phone. “We have a lead, boss.”
I swallow, almost nervous to take it from him to see what he’s found, but I do, because it’s all we’ve got. Cole Matthews’ background profile is on the screen, and when I see what Rex is referring to, I freeze.
Cole Matthews, descendant of Rebecca Matthews. Also related to a Lionel Crawley. Mother died in a home robbery seven years ago when he was eighteen. I dig deeper into his profile, the blood pumping fast through my veins as the connections become clear.
“Holy fucking shit.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lyric
Crawley taunts Wolf on the other end of the line, a wicked smile playing on his face the entire time. I want to tell Wolf that I’ll be fine. Coming here will only put him in danger too, and I couldn’t live with myself if he got hurt. We’re already in this mess because of me. Well, because of Destiny and what she wants to steal from me. It might as well end here.
The moment we arrived, Crawley and Cole hauled us in through a garage, into a family home, through an open door, and down a wooden staircase to the basement. They tied us up with ropes at the opposite end of the room against a wall, then grabbed socks from the laundry basket, balled them up, and shoved them in our mouths. I couldn’t talk to Wolf if I tried. All I can make out are muffled moans and muddied sentences. I was happy to get one good scream in before Crawley stuffed my mouth. Unfortunately, I had to get kicked in the stomach to get it.
I’ve looked for any sign of my mother, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else is here. Does she know that it’s come to this? That her daughter has been tied up by a psychopath on a get-rich-quick mission? Is she going with him wherever he’s going? I hope so. I’m not sure I could ever stomach the sight of her again.
“What in bloody hell are you talking about, Wolf? What message?” Crawley screams. Then he paces the cluttered room as he listens.
We’re in a basement of a small, residential home. It must belong to someone Crawley knows because he seems awfully familiar with it. He knew just how to get in and where to go, and he didn’t have to search long to find the supplies he used to tie us up here.
I work against the ropes, tugging and turning my hands to loosen them as much as I can, ignoring the chaffing of my skin as my wrists grow raw with the friction. I let out a silent cry when one of my wrists twists a little too far.
Deloris makes a sound next to me, so I look at her. She silently pleads with me to stop. I have to fight the tears when I make eye contact. Why did I bring her into this mess? She had a good life back home. No drama. She’s done more for me than my own mother ever has, and this is how I repay her.
Crawley is still in a heated exchange with Wolf when he runs up the basement stairs and slams the door behind him. When he returns a few minutes later, he’s holding my cell phone tight in his hands and his own phone to his ear. Then he places the call on speaker and kneels down in front of me.
His eyes are the muddied brown like his son’s. No wonder Cole creeped me out from the moment I laid eyes on him. He’s Crawley’s spawn. Like father, like son—pure evil.
He yanks the gag from my mouth as he powers on my phone and then glares deeply into my eyes. “What is your passcode,
Lyric? And don’t even think about lying to me. If you do, you’ll suffer greatly.”
“Don’t you touch her!” Wolf screams.
Crawley ignores Wolf and glares at me. “Your passcode, Lyric. Now.”
“Seven, six, four, four.” I look at the phone, wanting to say something to Wolf, to tell him not to bring himself any deeper into this. And to not give Crawley a penny of his money. If it were just me tied up in here, I would. But I need to get Deloris out of this psychopath’s house as fast as possible.
Crawley scans my phone for whatever Wolf has him looking for. “Where is the goddamn message?” he growls.
Message? And then it dawns on me. Wolf must have told him about the text message I wrote with Cole’s name and nothing else. But why? Before I can question it anymore, my phone starts pinging loudly. My heart takes off in my chest. I recognize that sound. A sound I’ve played more than enough times to know exactly what Wolf is doing. He’s tracking my phone. I laugh, knowing I’ll never forget the look on Crawley’s face when he makes the same realization.
“What the fuck did you do?” Crawley roars. He tosses the phone across the room and it smashes into the wall, shattering into tiny pieces on the floor. Then he takes the back of his hand and slams it across my cheek. A searing pain radiates throughout my cheek and bones, my teeth ache, and I think I have whiplash from the impact.
I scream, but not because of the pain. I’m disgusted that he touched me. I can only hope that Wolf is close by. He’s got to have made the connection between Crawley and Cole by now. And Crawley is over here losing his shit—not that he ever managed his temper well, anyway.
“That was the wrong move,” Crawley spits before hanging up on Wolf. He presses a few buttons, glaring at me in the process, before placing the phone to his ear and walking away.
“Hey. Change of plans. Where are you?” He pauses and murmurs a curse word or two. “Turn around. Now. We’re getting the fuck out of here.” His eyes move over us like we’re invisible. “After we finish the girls off.”
The resolve behind his words make me shudder, but I’m not ready to give up. He must be talking to Cole, who’s on his way to the airport to wait for Wolf. Apparently, though, Wolf is on a mission to find us instead. I take a deep breath, in and out, trying to calm my nerves. I need to focus.
When Crawley hangs up the phone again, I wait a few beats before speaking. “How do you know Destiny?”
Crawley laughs and shakes his head. “Is that what we’re doing now? Is this the part where I tell you all my secrets? Give you all my motives? So you can understand why we’re all in this predicament before I slice your goddamn throat?” He walks forward slowly, grabbing the back of a chair and dragging it forward. He spins it and sits down, crossing his arms on the chair back. He sets his knife on his lap, and I have no doubt that he has every intention of following through with what he said.
“Destiny Lane and I go way back. Back to the start of her career. Before princess Lyric arrived in this world. Did you know she was the first artist I ever managed? Her first demo became a hit so fast, she didn’t know what to do with herself. We were on top of the moon. That was it for both of us. Our big break.”
Crawley has a faraway look in his eye, but it quickly turns dark. “But then she met Mitch Cassidy, who promised her the world.” His lip curls in disgust. “Mitch convinced her she needed someone ‘established.’ Someone that could make her into the pop diva she was born to be.” He chuckles with a hint of sarcasm. “And then he went and got her pregnant. Refused to marry her.” Crawley sneers in my direction and looks away. “Imagine my surprise when she showed up after the show last week to find you.” He shrugs. “She was wasted. No surprise. Little cunt still can’t control her drug problem. Never could.
“It worked to my advantage, though. When I met her at the show she was belligerent, crying about all the woes of her life. Her sinking career, the label’s idea to give her one more shot, and the help she needed from her only daughter. You wouldn’t help her on your own, so I offered. It was an opportunity to finally fuck over that cocky boyfriend of yours, and I took it.”
Jesus. It wasn’t just about getting royalties to Wolf’s old songs. He wanted to rip his heart out, and mine, the way my mother did to him.
“But why?” I cut in, still not understanding. “Wolf treated you well. Respected you even, though I’m not sure why.”
Crawley’s lips curl in frustration. “Until you came along. The moment you joined the tour, I knew it was over. My time was running out. I wasn’t about to let Destiny’s offspring fuck up my career, but I guess it runs in the family. I tried to get you kicked off the tour after that hotel debacle, but it wasn’t enough for Wright to can you. And then again after you and Wolf came out as a couple. Wright couldn’t find fault since it wasn’t in your contract.” He shakes his head as if disgusted.
“You’re not so different from your mother, you know? I knew you were the type to fuck your way to the top, and since I couldn’t get rid of you, I leaked those photos from the club. But then you came crawling back to your meal ticket, didn’t you?”
“You leaked those photos?” I say, my stomach twisting with anger. Wolf guessed it, but I couldn’t comprehend why anyone would do something so cruel.
He sneers. “I already had plans to cash in one day if Wolf ever betrayed me. Turns out my plan was botched from the beginning. So here we are.”
Crawley’s phone rings, and he turns away to answer it. I twist my wrist one last time, finally working my fingers through the small opening of the ropes. Pain shoots up my arm, but I don’t care. I continue to pry my hands through, grinding against the threads until I feel the sharp pain of my skin rubbing raw against the fibers.
My mouth opens in a silent cry from the sting, and I squeeze my lids together just as my fingers slip through.
I let out a breath, shake my hands a few times, and then work on my feet while Crawley’s back is still turned.
He’s talking to someone about a car. But what’s going to happen to us? I look at Deloris, who has tears running down her face. I give her the most pleading apologetic look, and I keep working. I don’t stop until I’ve loosened the ropes around my feet and the ones around Deloris’ hands. I don’t take them off completely just in case Crawley were to turn. If he sees what I’m doing, it’ll be the end.
“Everything will be fine, I promise,” I whisper. And then I reach up to the seat of the folding chair where Crawley left his knife and grab it, placing it behind my back before he can turn around to see me.
He growls something into the phone and walks toward the stairs as my heartbeat thunders in my chest. “I’ll meet you in the garage. Leave the car running. You’ll help me with the older one.” Without another word, he hangs up and then takes off up the stairs in a half-run.
I work fast, kicking my feet free, then removing the rope from Deloris’ wrists and legs and the gag from her mouth. She cries out a little, but I shake my head, holding a finger to my lips, in a motion for her to stay quiet.
I help her off the floor and over to the other side of the room, beneath the stairs where I can hide her in the shadows. I swallow as I think of my old hideout underneath the roof stairs at the Aragon. How I met Wolf for the first time at fifteen years old on what I thought was the worst night of my life. I think I’ll need to reevaluate that. Tonight might just take the cake.
Searching around the dimly lit basement, I find the gun Crawley aimed at me when Cole dropped us off at the house. It’s sitting on desk on the other side of the staircase, right where I saw him place it earlier. Why he wouldn’t take it with him to go upstairs is beyond me. Something has him panicked. Distracted. Probably the fact that Wolf outsmarted him once again by getting him to turn on my phone.
I grab the gun and then dart back to the stairs where I wait. I stare down at the shiny, black revolver in my hands. It’s probably the only time in my life I’ll be happy to see a gun. When Tony first took me shooting, I thought he
was crazy. But I understood. Originally from the South, he was raised on hunting and fishing. I drew the line when he bought me a pink revolver, though. As cute as the deadly weapon was, there was no way I would ever be comfortable having one so close to me on a regular basis.
A minute later, I hear the creak of the door at the top of the staircase, followed by the sound of it hitting the wall. A shallow light streams from above, illuminating the space where Crawley had left us tied up.
“What the fuck?” he yells when he sees we’re gone.
I step into the light, gun already raised in the direction of his voice at the top of the stairs. With the safety already unlatched, I angle it at his chest. His eyes find mine just as I begin to pull the trigger.
I’m steady, focused on my target, and I don’t wait another moment. A moment could mean I miss. A moment could give Crawley enough time to lunge for me. A moment could be the difference between life and death, and death isn’t coming for me today.
I pull the trigger. The kickback shoots through my right arm, and a zing from the aftershock tingles through me like an electric current.
Crawley reels back from the hit, his hand moving to the spot where the bullet hit him. Blood seeps through his chest pocket. That’s when I see a second figure appear in the doorway.
It’s Cole. His mouth is agape as he watches Crawley fall to his knees and stumble down the first few steps, loosely gripping the railing to keep from falling down the stairs. He doesn’t move, just watches me as if I’ve already won.
“What did you do?” Cole screams before dropping to his knees in front of his father. His hands reach for the wound, but Crawley pushes him away and points to me. “Get her,” he growls.
Cole’s eyes connect with mine. My gun is ready, poised in his direction, but this time I aim lower, for his stomach.
I watch as Cole reaches for the same gun he had pointed at me in the car earlier. And that’s all I need to see to give myself the okay to pull the trigger again—but this time, nothing happens.
