Lyric

by Molly McAdams

  But I knew he was standing. I knew he was unfurling to his full height. And I knew that murderous gaze was locked on me.

  I lifted the gun and prayed to God I was aiming at the man in front of me.

  I gritted my teeth. “Contract void.”

  He lunged.

  I fired.

  Libby

  I SANK BACK ON THE floor, crying out when the movement shifted parts of my body that ached and screamed in protest.

  Two Moretti were dead on the floor of the warehouse . . . and I didn’t know if that made the contract void, or if it was the spark that ignited a war.

  And I didn’t care.

  Years of wondering, waiting, and worrying were now dead at my feet.

  I dragged myself to where Gabe lie and searched his pockets for the keys to these cuffs and his phone.

  My eyes skipped over his bloodied chest to his glassy eyes, and for a second, sadness tugged at my chest.

  Because the guy I thought I knew hadn’t deserved this. Parts of the man who spoke to me tonight weren’t bad. But other parts were impossible to ignore. Parts I knew all too well having lived day in and day out with Johnny.

  That crazed darkness that was as uncontrollable as it was volatile.

  Normal men—even by mafia standards—didn’t kill the men you slept with out of jealousy and rage.

  They didn’t stalk you, while openly trying to befriend you as a different person.

  They didn’t order your fiancé’s death to keep a claim on you.

  Not if they expected to live.

  I palmed the keys to the cuffs and his truck, and gripped his phone in my hand as I struggled to stand.

  Each inch felt like it took a lifetime, and my legs were begging for the reprieve of the floor again.

  I wheezed and reached for my ribs when I tried to straighten, my face pinching in pain.

  Yeah. Definitely a bad fucking idea.

  I slowly trudged toward the door, tossing Gabe’s locked phone on the floor on my way there, praying to at least make it into his truck. Then I’d worry about getting home.

  But as soon as I stumbled out of the warehouse, two cars tore onto the nearly indiscernible U-shaped drive. My eyes filled with tears when I recognized the cars, and quickly raced down my cheeks when the passenger door of one was thrown open and someone stormed out.

  And there he was. Maxon James. Eyes locked on me. Wrath and dread streaked across his devastatingly handsome face, making my heart ache.

  The rock star who wrote our future in lyrics.

  The boy who vowed to be my forever.

  The man who promised me the world.

  I loved him.

  An exhausted cry fell from my lips when he let the object in his hand fall to the ground and raced for me.

  I only made it a step before he had me in his arms, his head buried in my neck.

  I cried out and winced when he squeezed too tight, but held on when he tried to let me go.

  “What did he do?” he demanded, his tone rough and dripping with hatred.

  “No, they did . . . they didn’t. I—”

  “They?”

  “What do you mean they?” Dare asked, suddenly beside us.

  I lifted my head from Maxon’s chest and wanted to cry at the thought of having to explain everything when all I wanted was to lie down. “Cousins,” I finally said. “Both dead. One killed the other, I killed the second. I think I cracked a rib . . . probably have a concussion.”

  Maxon went still, but Dare was looking at me like he was trying to figure it out. “Cracked a rib, huh?”

  My mouth twitched into a smile. “It was a bad risk. You would’ve been pissed.”

  He cupped his hand around my neck and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’m sure I still will be when you tell me.”

  The cuffs fell from my wrists, and I looked up to see Einstein wink at me.

  The key had never left my hands.

  Maxon pulled me gently into his arms, his mouth going to my ear. “Libby, I love you. I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry.”

  “Don’t,” I pleaded. “I have to apologize for so many things, but just know that I love you. I’ve always loved you and everything I did was to keep you safe.”

  “I know.” His fingers trailed to the pulse point at my neck. “Your heartbeat will always be my favorite song.”

  My eyes slowly shut when his mouth moved across my jaw but popped open before he could reach my mouth. “Did I see you drop a tire iron?”

  He shrugged and grinned mischievously. “It was the only weapon they’d give me.”

  I shouldn’t laugh.

  Nothing should be amusing after what I’d just done.

  But I was beyond exhausted from the last few hours, and the thought of Maxon armed with a tire iron was too ridiculous not to react to.

  The laugh was short-lived and ended on a hiss. “You were gonna run in there with nothing but a tire iron?”

  His face fell, those whiskey eyes boring into mine. “I would’ve gone in there with nothing to get you back.”

  I was swept up in our next kiss.

  Nothing ever felt like this.

  Nothing ever could.

  Wild and calm.

  I could see it all in that kiss, just like every other. The house, the kids, the life I wanted.

  Words he’d laid out in every achingly beautiful song.

  Everything we would finally have.

  My future with the boy brave enough to love a rebel.

  Three months later

  Maxon

  I ROLLED OVER AND PASSED a soft kiss to Libby’s jaw, then pressed my mouth to hers, full and pouty in sleep.

  I let my fingers find her pulse and lay there for a while.

  Felt her. Memorized her.

  Waking to a song none other could compare to.

  “Your heartbeat will always be my favorite song,” I whispered against her shoulder, then slipped out of bed.

  A couple days after everything happened, Dare went with Kieran Hayes to Chicago to meet with the Moretti family.

  After realizing Gabe had been here, watching and studying Libby ever since her twenty-first birthday—longer than the seven years Libby had known him—Dare demanded the old contract destroyed.

  A new one was drafted and signed.

  The alliance was restored.

  And Libby’s marriage never happened.

  Apparently even the Moretti family feared Kieran Hayes.

  I was halfway down the hall when Einstein came trudging into the entrance, looking mostly asleep.

  “When did you get here?”

  “Slept here.”

  I just watched her walk past me to mine and Libby’s room, shaking my head when I heard her flop onto the bed.

  “Good to know,” I murmured, and continued walking toward the kitchen to make coffee.

  When Libby and I moved into our house, I’d offered Einstein a room.

  As a joke.

  She said she’d already picked one out and made a copy of the house key, and she’d use it from time to time.

  I didn’t ask how. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  But true to her word, a few mornings a week, I woke up only to have her pass by me in the hall so she could cuddle my wife. How she knew I was awake and not in bed with her . . .

  Again . . . I didn’t ask.

  Besides, they’d spent most their lives together. I wasn’t going to be the one to separate them.

  That hadn’t stopped Einstein from calling me a best-friend thief the entire week leading up to the wedding and after.

  Our mob-style wedding.

  It was casual. Fun. Perfect.

  Libby’s mom even showed.

  We had cupcakes and skipped the flowers. Libby wore a skirt and shirt that were so Libby and opposite of what you’d expect on a bride . . .

  And I’d counted down the minutes until I could tear them off and bury myself inside her.

  When the guys had asked about
the ceremony, I’d told them the truth. That Libby came from a mafia family and this was how they did weddings.

  They’d laughed. Ledger thought they were being Punk’d again.

  None of them knew exactly what had happened the night Libby was taken, only having caught pieces and thinking most of it was pranks—including the man the twins killed in their driveway.

  I planned on keeping it that way.

  “Freaking cold toes.”

  I looked over my shoulder, a smile pulling at my lips as I watched Libby walk into the kitchen in nothing but my shirt.

  I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her. “Wife.”

  “Caveman.”

  I smiled against her mouth. “Something like that.”

  “Come back here,” Einstein yelled from our bedroom.

  Libby stared at me. Her face was blank, but her eyes were light and excited.

  Before I could ask what was going on, she groaned and headed back to our room.

  I grabbed a mug and poured coffee, and was headed to the fridge for creamer when I heard it.

  I looked over my shoulder and around the room when it disappeared.

  I had the fridge open when it started up again.

  “The hell?”

  I shut the door and followed the sound out of the kitchen, but it disappeared.

  I’d started rocking back when it started up again, coming from . . .

  From my bedroom.

  I walked faster than before, my mouth open to call for Libby when the sound shifted.

  The amplified dragging and scratching sound was gone, and in its place was something I’d never heard.

  Not this way at least. But I knew it just the same.

  A rapid whom whom whom filled the house and slowed my feet.

  I walked into my room, my steps hesitant and eyes wide.

  Libby was lying on the bed with her shirt bunched under her breasts.

  Einstein was kneeling next to her, pressing something to her stomach.

  Both were staring at me and smiling wide.

  I lifted my hand and pointed.

  Tried to point.

  “What . . . what is that?”

  Einstein sighed. “Oh, come on. You’re not that dumb.”

  Libby hit her without ever looking away. Her smile never faltered. “That’s our baby.”

  I was suddenly on the bed, kneeling on the other side of her, and Einstein was pressing that thing into my hand.

  “Rebel . . .”

  She placed her hands on her stomach tenderly and whispered, “I’m almost three months.” When I looked at her again, her eyes were bright with tears.

  I bent to kiss her, long and slow.

  Pulling back slightly, I murmured, “Listen.”

  Libby released a shaky breath and smiled as that whom whom whom surrounded us.

  “That heartbeat . . . that’s my favorite song.”

  Look for more Rebel novels from

  Molly McAdams, coming soon!

  Lock

  Limit

  Coming soon from

  New York Times bestselling author, Molly McAdams . . .

  The mafia’s hacker and the man who’s always been her comfort. Her everything.

  She loves him, but she’s paid the price of love in the mafia before.

  Now she’ll do anything to keep him from the pain haunting her.

  Even ruin him.

  But when a threat comes to town, he won’t let her continue pretending what they have isn’t real.

  Cory—Thank you for being my constant support. I would never be able to do what I do without you. I love you!

  Molly—What would I do without you? Thank you for the never-ending plot sessions and just being completely amazing. You will always be the best half of Molly Squared.

  Amy—Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything. Your support and encouragement means the world to me. Ramblers forever.

  Regina, Letitia, Malia, Marion, Shannon, & Christine—Thank you for making this book what it is! From the photos, illustrations, and cover, to the edits, proofs, and formatting. You’re all such rock stars!