Connor ignored Micah as they climbed into his truck and opened his cell phone. It had been three goddamn hours since things had gone to hell at the music store. He had no idea where Lyric was, if she was safe, or just how upset she was.

Well, that wasn’t true. It was pretty damn obvious she was destroyed by what she thought was his betrayal of her. It pissed him the fuck off. How could she think he’d ever do that to her?

There was only one missed call and it sure as hell wasn’t from Lyric. It was from Kane.

He hit the button for his voice mail and listened to the short message.

“Connor, I have no idea what the hell happened back there. Lyric’s a mess. She’s here at the house and she doesn’t want anyone allowed on the premises. You included. Give me a call when you get this so you can fill me in. I’m working without a net here.”

“Son of a bitch,” Connor swore.

“Is there anything I can do?” Micah asked quietly.

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and closed his eyes. “This is a goddamn mess, Micah. I don’t know what the hell to do. I’m going to lose her and I’m not sure there’s a damn thing I can do about it.”

Micah winced in sympathy. “Been there, done that. Don’t ever have the desire to do it again. Tell me what happened. Maybe an objective opinion will help.”

“I can’t,” Connor said helplessly. “She already thinks I betrayed her trust. The shit’s going to hit the fan any minute now. Maybe it already has. She thinks I sold her out to the media. She trusted me. Only me. It looks bad, but goddamn, I told her I loved her. How can she believe I’d do that to her?”

“Sounds like you’ve both had a shitty day,” Micah murmured.

“Yeah,” Connor said bleakly. “You could say that.”

“So where am I taking you?”

“Home.”

Micah lifted a brow as he stared over at Connor. “Giving up that easily?”

“I have to give her some time. She’s devastated. She’s told her security not to allow anyone on the premises. I can’t pile on her right now. It’s going to goddamn kill me, but I’ve got to give her time to cool off and get over the initial shock.”

Connor curled his fingers into tight balls. He wanted to put his fist through the window. He should be with her right now. He should be holding her. He should be her shield against the world. But she was desperately alone and she was hurting and he couldn’t get within ten feet of her.

“Look, why don’t you come home with me and have a few beers? It beats going home and driving yourself insane.”

Connor sighed. “Thanks, man. You know I’d love to see Angelina, but the truth is I’m really shitty company right now.”

“Okay. Offer stands, though.”

Twenty minutes later, Micah pulled into the apartment complex he shared with Connor. Connor got out, waved his thanks to Micah again, then headed for his apartment while Micah walked back to his.

He unlocked his door and went inside, home for the first time since the day he’d gone to Lyric’s hotel room after their meeting at the office.

Boy, had his life changed dramatically since then. That day had started something he’d never dreamed would happen. It seemed a lifetime ago.

His apartment had always been comfortable. Lived in. Slightly cluttered. His comfort place. A place he always enjoyed coming back to.

Tonight it was barren and sterile. The silence was suffocating and the walls seemed to close in on him from every direction.

He flopped onto the couch and reached for his phone to call Kane. He hadn’t wanted to go into the details in front of Micah. No matter that she already thought he’d betrayed her. He’d never tell anyone the things she’d shared with him.

“How is she?” Connor demanded when Kane answered the phone.

Kane sighed. “Not good. What the fuck happened?”

“It’s a clusterfuck, Kane. I can’t get into the details. They’ll be public soon enough. She thinks I sold her out. It’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“You sit on her, Kane. Keep her safe. Don’t let her do anything stupid. I’m going to give her until tomorrow and then I’m coming over and I don’t give a fuck how many guys you throw at me. All I’ll say is that you better be up on your workman’s comp, because if anyone tries to stop me, they’ll wind up in the hospital.”


Her head ached. Her jaw ached. Her heart ached. Her eyes were swollen and her nose felt like it had run off her face. She looked and sounded horrible. She had no voice, which was pretty stupid considering it was how she made her living.

Her throat was so swollen it was hard to swallow but no matter how much she tried to turn it off, tears still leaked endlessly down her cheeks.

She’d lain in bed for hours. Kane had come and gone with an ice pack for her face. He’d hesitated and she could tell he had no liking for leaving her, but she shut him out and curled in on herself even more until he’d left with a sigh.

Grief was a living, breathing entity inside her. It swelled so much that she feared she would break. Maybe she was already broken. Maybe she’d always been broken and had slapped enough Band-Aids on to muddle through.

She tried hard to conjure her mother’s face, to remember her smile, but every time she thought of her she saw only blood, heard the sounds of her being beaten and heard her cries of pain.

She hadn’t even attended her mother’s funeral. Had there even been a service? Lyric doubted it. There had been no money and no one to care. Lyric had been hospitalized for days and afterward she’d been released into the care of the state.

They’d tried their best. Lyric had lived in a poor county without many resources. No one had been willing to foster the silent, grieving child. She’d been too steeped in violence. Many were afraid that Danny Higgins would come after her. After the trial she’d been shipped off to Jackson and shuffled around there.

She’d been awarded a new life. New name. New birth certificate. The kind judge had told her that this was her opportunity to rise above her circumstances. It was the only thing that had managed to break through the thick wall of defense she’d erected.

She’d taken him at his word. She’s chosen her name to honor her mother’s love for her singing. And she’d made a vow that one day she’d get the hell out of Mississippi and she’d never look back.

She’d spent every day after that running. Always running from her past. Burying everything under a don’t-give-a-shit, abrasive exterior so that no one ever dug deep. Until Connor.

A fresh surge of pain nearly paralyzed her. She’d believed him. Or maybe she’d been so desperate for someone to love her that she’d been blinded. But she had believed in him and his love for her. She’d wanted it so bad even when it baffled her.

She sat up in bed and wrapped her cold arms around herself and hugged as she rocked back and forth. A glance at the clock told her it was nearly two a.m. She laid her cheek on her knees and stared sightlessly toward the window.

She didn’t even know where her mother was buried.

The thought hit her like a thunderclap and she flinched from the realization. She’d been so focused on her own survival that she’d never gone back to see her mother’s grave. Didn’t even know if her life had been marked by a cold slab of concrete.

Had she been forgotten? Brushed aside as a county expense? Had anyone ever brought flowers to acknowledge the life, however short it had been?

Lyric struggled out of bed. Her clothes were wrinkled. She hadn’t changed. Blood stained her shirt. Her pants sported a new tear. She thrust her feet into a pair of flip-flops by the bed and went in search of Kane.

He wasn’t asleep. It shouldn’t have surprised her. The man was more machine than human. He was awake in the living room, a book propped on his knee.

He looked up when she entered and got to his feet with a frown.

“You look like hell, Lyric.”

She blinked at the personal assessment. It was very unlike Kane to offer more than a professional opinion. But it was clear that concern burned in his eyes.

“I need to go to Mississippi,” she said in a stark voice.

Kane’s brows drew together in a frown. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have to go. Now. I’d like you to go. I may be crazy but I’m not completely without a sense of self-preservation. I’ll pay you. Of course. Your travel expenses. Whatever.”

Kane rubbed a hand through his hair. “Look, Lyric, you’re clearly distraught. No decision should ever be made under this kind of emotional duress. Get some sleep. If you still feel like you need to go tomorrow, I’ll take you.”

She turned, her back ramrod stiff. “I’ll go alone, then.”

A curse exploded from Kane and he crossed the room to grasp her arm. “What the hell is in Mississippi?”

She glanced dully up at him. “My mother.”


Connor’s phone rang at six a.m. He hadn’t slept a wink the entire night. He’d been too pissed and too worried. He reached for the phone he’d tossed on the couch and put it to his ear.

“Malone,” he said shortly.

“We’re coming over,” Gray said in his ear.

“Don’t bother,” Connor muttered.

“Fuck you.”

The line went dead and Connor slouched back on the couch. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. He should have slept. He had to be at his best to confront Lyric. She was going to listen to him, damn it.

He checked his watch. Two more hours. He’d give her two hours and then he was going to take no prisoners.

His doorbell rang and he cursed. Damn interfering friends. He dragged himself to his feet and went to open the door.