“Yeah?”
He looked around at his friends before pinning me with his dark stare. Eyes so dark they were almost black.
Something familiar rocked through me.
That girl slammed into my mind.
I roughed my fingers through my hair.
Fuck.
I needed to scrape her from my being.
Forget it.
Because she was something I couldn’t have. One encounter, and she was haunting me.
“Just need to make it clear that we walk a straight line. All of us have families. All the bullshit we were into in the past is exactly that—in the past.”
Knew exactly what Lyrik was telling me. He was right back to the days that Ash had been referring to when I’d walked through the door.
The depravity and the wickedness and the evil.
Thing was, Lyrik didn’t know the first of it. If he did, there was no chance in hell he would be inviting me to his place.
“Haven’t touched that shit in years,” I told him.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t still a prisoner.
“Good. Because I protect my family at any cost. We all do. They will always come first.”
It was a point-blank warning.
“As you should.”
It was the only thing any of us had. Fighting for our families.
“Good.”
“So, you’re in?” Zee asked, more eager than he probably wanted to let on.
I roughed a hand through my hair. This was crazy.
But just like when the SOS had come in, asking me to be here, I couldn’t find it in myself to say no.
“Yeah, count me in.”
He blew out a sigh. “Thanks, man. That’s a huge relief. Don’t want to let down the band, but I can’t let down my kid. Hard balancing, you know? But family has to come first.”
Grief constricted my throat. I shoved it down, let it feed the fury.
“Glad I can be of help.”
“More than you know. I’m in your debt.”
“I think I’m being plenty well-compensated.”
Zee grinned. “No. Money ain’t bad.”
I glanced around Lyrik’s extravagant house. “Obviously.”
Lyrik nodded. “I need to get back out to the party. Plane will be waiting for you, like you requested, unless you want to stick around and hang with us?”
“Think I better get back.”
Away from this place.
I pushed to standing.
“I’ll have someone get in contact with you to make arrangements to get you and your things out to Savannah. Plan on being there Wednesday.”
Lyrik put his hand out.
I shook it.
Sealed the deal.
Couldn’t help but feel like I was signing my name in blood.
“I’ll be there.”
“Excited about this,” Lyrik said with a nod. “Feel good things coming from it. Know you write. Never hurts to have a fresh ear on the mix.”
I felt a stir from deep within.
Something powerful.
Stronger than the most depraved parts of me.
Music was my one good.
The one contribution I could make.
“It’ll be cool, yeah.” I glanced around the room. “Guess I’ll see you all later this week.”
I shook hands with everyone, accepting their welcomes into their world while hoping beyond hope that I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
Considering I’d lost all hope years ago, it didn’t do a whole lot to reassure me.
I stepped back out into the clamor that echoed down the hall. Nothing but a rush of voices and music and energy. I waded into the middle of it, letting it fuel the fervor. The heat and the need and the greed.
I cut right through the crowd without slowing and out the front door toward the car that was waiting.
I needed to get the fuck out of this city. Flee from the ghosts that forever ran these streets. Thing was, it didn’t matter how far or how fast I went, they would always be right there, hunting me down.
Waiting in the darkness.
I strode down the walkway, getting ready to slip into the backseat when the driver opened the door, only to pause to look over my shoulder toward the house.
Gaze drawn.
Lifted.
Right to the shadow outlined in the towering stained-glass window.
She was watching down on me.
An angel in the attic.
Heat clawed across my flesh, clashing with the cold.
That vacancy howled.
I gave myself over to it for one moment, for one fleeting second, before I ripped myself from her stare and slipped into the backseat of the car.
Because it didn’t matter where I went or who I pretended to become.
I could never escape the reminder of the penalty that was left to pay.
Five
Mia
From where I sat at the island in the kitchen, I stared out the windows that overlooked Los Angeles as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. It tossed a kaleidoscope of colors across the city.
Pinks and oranges and bursting blues.
I sipped at my coffee while I relished in the sight.
There was always a quiet peace that radiated with the breaking day.
As if we were being offered a second chance. A new story. Our spirits renewed.
I guessed I wasn’t surprised when I was hit with a surge of sadness.
It wafted and curled and saturated. Its own entity. I reached out, welcomed it, held it close to my heart.
I allowed the grief to consume me for the briefest moment. My mother had taught me that sometimes the most important part of healing was allowing ourselves to feel. That we had to allow ourselves to truly feel it without trying to minimize its pain, before we could possibly expect it to not hurt so bad.
And God . . . it hurt so bad it was physical.
An ache that wasn’t close to being dull.
Sharp and biting and as raw as could be.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered beneath my breath, my eyes pressed closed as if she might be able to hear.
Praying that she could. That there was somewhere so much bigger than this life out there.
I jerked out of the daze when I heard a stampede of footsteps thundering from the opposite side of the house.
My aching spirit soared. Lifted like I’d been tossed a life raft.
The one thing in this ugly world that could truly save.
It grew louder and louder. A riot that came closer with every beat.
Two seconds later, the swinging door burst open. A whole herd of children crashed into the kitchen.
Jostling and vying to get in front of the other. Nothing but flailing arms and shrieking voices and laughter that could go on for days.
A soft smile edged my mouth when I took in the tangle. They didn’t even notice I was there considering they were far too busy trying to outdo the other.
Kallie and Connor, who were Baz and Shea’s kids.
Liam, Zee and Alexis’ son, who was seven.
Colton, the three-year-old wild child who belonged to Ash and Willow. Nothing but a ham, just like his daddy.
Sadie, who belonged to Austin and Edie, was right on his tail.
Brendon and Adia, Lyrik and Tamar’s children—my niece and nephew.
It was no secret the Sunder boys had been busy the last few years.
“I’m first!” Kallie shouted as she pushed Brendon to get in front of him, her blonde hair flying around her as she made a last-ditch effort to get in front of the pack.
Brendon threw out his arm.
My breath locked in worry because he just about clothes-lined her to keep her from rounding to the front.
Last thing we needed was her head cracked open on the marble tile.
Oh, but Kallie was on her toes, expecting his retaliation, the child diving to her knees so she could slide right under his barricade. The second she did, she jumped t
o her feet and slammed her hands down on the countertop. “Ha! I was first! Fair and square.”
“Uh, not a chance, Kallie. I was definitely in front of you.” Brendon raked her arms off the island and slammed his down in her place. “See!”
“No way. You’re a cheater, Brendon West.” Kallie propped her hand on her hip, giving him all her sass. “I touched it first!”
“Kallie won, Kallie won,” Adia sang, shoving at her big brother like the four-year-old spitfire had enough strength to shove him out of the race.
“Nice . . . pick her side instead of mine, Adia. That’s what’s called a betrayal. How could you do this to me? I’m your big brother.” He slapped a hand onto his chest.
Nothing but dramatic.
I swore, that boy was bound to be a heartbreaker.
Setting my cup of coffee on the breakfast nook, I stood and started to wander their direction. I wound around the large island just as Kristina, Tamar and Lyrik’s trusted babysitter, came through the door.
She was carrying Greyson.
A rush of adoration spilled into my veins, my heart squeezing tight.
Talk about a heartbreaker.
Elation filled his face, and he pointed at me with his chubby finger. “Momma! I see you! I see you! Wook! Momma in the kitchen,” he told Kristina with one of his emphatic nods, like she didn’t notice me standing right there.
Love rushed. So fast and hard it nearly knocked me from my feet.
“I see you, too, sweet boy,” I murmured, pointing back.
I moved to them, all too eager to take my two-year-old son into my arms. The second I did, I bounced him, pressed a kiss to his forehead, breathed him in.
Joy.
Completeness.
Fulfillment.
“I missed you. Did you have so much fun last night?” I sang on a whisper.
Excitement widened his brown eyes. “I watched the dwagons!”
He said it like it was some kind of secret.
“You did, did you?”
“I wuv the dwagons.”
“How was he?” I asked, glancing at Kristina.
She and a friend of hers had watched the kids last night over in the second wing of the house. We’d all wanted them to be close by but tucked safely away from the craziness.
It wasn’t so hard to lure them with a movie-themed sleepover, Slurpie machine and all.
It wasn’t like Lyrik was gonna skimp out on the good stuff.
It was a little harder to get me to agree. After everything, it was difficult to let my kids out of my sight, let alone for an entire night.
But I’d wanted to be there for Tamar and Lyrik. Support what they were doing.
Maybe even feel normal for a little while.
All it took was a single thought of him to send tingles streaking across my skin. Hairs lifting on end as I was hit with the remnants of the intensity I’d been prisoner to last night.
The man in the attic.
A dark storm.
A white light.
A coalescence of energy that had quietly seethed.
If I was being rational, I knew that intense encounter should mean nothing. I should have already forgotten it. Yet somehow, it had marked me. Left me tossing and turning all night, then had me up long before the sun, unable to find sleep.
No.
It wasn’t insta-love.
It was insta-intrigue.
Insta-attraction.
And it’d left me insta-crushed.
Left with this little spec of what-if mangled inside me.
What if he would have stayed a little longer? What if I’d have asked a few more questions? What if I had pushed him a little harder—would it have led us somewhere we were meant to go?
What if he would have kissed me?
That roll of tingles turned into a flashfire.
What if he would have—
I gulped, unable to even bring myself to imagine it. Those hands and that body and that brooding heart.
He would have done me in.
No question.
What I’d done was dodged a speeding bullet.
A whole arsenal.
Hell, I’d probably avoided a landmine or two.
That man was written in mayhem. Tattooed in trouble. And I’d had plenty enough of that to last me a lifetime.
“Our Greyson here was a saint, weren’t you?” Kristina fussed, singing to my son, snapping me out of the daze.
My brows lifted in disbelief. “A saint, huh? Why is it I don’t believe you?”
Greyson might be the cutest thing on earth, but the child was a handful. So full of energy it was hard to keep up.
“Well, you should believe it. This one stole my heart. Even though he might have woken up twice in the middle of the night, didn’t you, stinker boy?” She tapped his nose. “But I’ll forgive you.”
She sent me a small wink while he was giving her one of his smiles, the kind that was all chubby cheeks and tiny teeth and I bet I can get away with anything adorableness.
“Hey, I thought it was me who stole your heart?” Brendon called from the other side of the kitchen.
He was all smirks and black hair and dark eyes, just like his daddy.
Nothing but a flirt.
Kristina barked a laugh. “Oh, you think so, huh, Brendon?”
“Now don’t go breakin’ my heart, Miss Kristina.”
It was hard to believe he was just shy of thirteen. The threat of his teenaged years was becoming more and more apparent with each day that passed.
As sweet and charming as could be, but there was no missing the flare in his eyes.
Something wild and unruly.
My ears perked up when another set of footsteps came trudging down the hall, slower than the rest, just like I expected them to be.
I looked that direction as the door swung open again.
Penny.
That overwhelming love slammed me anew.
Penny was my oldest child. Dark haired and brown-eyed. Stoic and willowy.
All things wonderful.
My sweet miracle because I was sure it was this little girl who had saved me when she was born. She’d given me something good and right to live for.
A purpose.
Set me on a different path than the one I’d been heading.
She shuffled down the hall long behind everyone else with her nose stuck in a book.
Surprise, surprise.
“Hey, Mom,” she mumbled, barely acknowledging me as she moved for the table without pulling her face from the book.
“Missed you, too,” I called as she passed.
She tossed an arm in the air in a whatever gesture.
So yeah, her teenaged years were lurking, too.
She and Kallie were both eleven. Thicker than thieves. Best of friends even though they lived on opposite sides of the country.
These gorgeous little girls who were getting ready to become bombshells.
The thought of that absolutely terrified me.
I wanted to gather up both my children and protect them from any heartache that might come their way.
From every misfortune and all their mistakes.
Keep them small and innocent and sweet.
But there was no way to stop the passage of time and the experiences that would come with it.
And truly, I wanted to embrace each phase.
Let them stumble and pick themselves back up again as they chased down their dreams.
Some days that was easier said than done because I knew that meant they were bound to go through all kinds of hard lessons to get there.
No one ever said momming was easy, and doing it alone was a whole ton harder.
Greyson smacked my face to get my attention. “I ready eat, Momma!” he shouted above the mayhem that was going down in the kitchen.
Connor and Liam had found themselves on the floor in a wrestling match, the rest of the children making a circle around them as they fought it out to see who would co
me out on top.
“Hey, don’t you make me go wake up Uncle Lyrik to break up a fight. You know how that’ll go down,” I warned, trying to hold back my amusement.
Brendon cracked up. “Watch it, she’s gonna get my dad, then you’re all in for it.”
“No way, I bet he’ll give me five bucks if I pin Connor.” Liam was gasping as he said it, flailing like crazy, both of them laughing so hard I doubted there was a chance either of them were going to get in a win.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, relishing the feel. The joy and the love and happiness.
A stark reminder there wasn’t only evil left in the world.
That I could do this.
“All right, let’s feed you, my sweet boy,” I sang to Greyson as I hiked him higher on my hip and started for the refrigerator.
That was right when Tamar came fumbling down a set of side stairs that led from the second floor into the kitchen. She tugged the belt of a silky leopard-print robe tighter around her waist as she took in the scene. “What in the world is going on in here?”
“Got ten bucks on Liam, Momma Blue. He might be tiny, but he is mighty.” Brendon grinned triumphantly as she stepped down into the kitchen.
She frowned. “Um . . . what have we said about gambling, Brendon?”
“Not gambling when you know you’re gonna win.”
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. I shook my head at his step-mother as she looked over at me in exasperation.
She might not have birthed Brendon, but she loved him with all her might. Treated him like he was her own. Respected his birth mother, coming alongside her to make sure Brendon was raised the best as he could be considering he was being raised in two separate homes.
It was never easy. Never perfect. But the truth was, families never were. But love truly living there was what made them completely right.
She ruffled her fingers through his hair and dropped a kiss to the top of his head. “You are nothin’ but a troublemaker, do you know that?”
“That’s why you love me.”
She sighed again, holding back a giggle, adoration filling her expression.
Adia made a beeline for her. “Hi, Mommmmmy!”
She threw her little arms around Tamar’s middle, and Tamar hugged her close.
“What are you doing up already?” Kristina asked Tamar, biting back laughter when Tamar looked in desperation at the coffee pot. “I didn’t think we’d see you at least until noon.”
Kiss the Stars Page 5