Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Nor should he be.
He was just a playboy who was useful in the war because he happened to be a good shot with a gun—and because he had a vein of rage he could tap into when he needed to. He was not, and had never been, hellren material.
Never would be, either.
Too bad Lyric reminded him of that, every time he saw her—
Behind him, the emergency exit opened. The exhale of perfume-scented warmth had a chaser of blue light, and as he measured the shadow his body threw on the dirty city snow, he thought about this secret that he’d kept to himself.
Shit, if Rhamp knew? After all these years of debauchery they’d shared?
Yeah, he was pretty sure it was practically a law of physics that you never, ever fell in love with your wingman’s goddamn sister—
“Where the fuck is L.W.”
Shuli spun around. Okay, not Rhamp.
The Black Dagger Brother Qhuinn was filling the jambs of the exit, looking like he was prepared to throw hands.
And unlike earlier with the son, the father was not going to let the subject of the missing heir to the throne drop.
CHAPTER NINE
At the end of the night, after the meet and greet was over, and the crowd dispersed, and the Trash Panda owner and reps swept off in a limo, Lyric walked through the club, and regarded the place through fresh eyes.
Well, “fresh” was a stretch. Her peepers were way past whatever expiration date they were stamped with, each blink like she was in a sandstorm, her lids heavy as garage doors, her mascara flaking off and adding to the problem.
It was also a stretch for poor old Bathe. All the interior lights were on, the music was off, the rest of the patrons gone to wherever their last-call decisions had taken them.
When it was dimmed out and packed with people, the beat bumping and drinks flowing, there was always an electrical charge in the air, a sizzling, buzzy excitement. Like this? It was downright depressing, the scuffs on the black floor and the scrapes on the black walls, the smell of bleach as surfaces were cleaned, the worn-out staff counting bottles behind the mile-long bar, the kind of behind-the-curtain that reminded you image was not everything.
No shit, she thought with exhaustion—
“You did a good job tonight.”
Lyric glanced over her shoulder. Even Marcia was subdued, but sure as the sun would set over Caldwell again in another fifteen hours, the Energizer media manager would be back on her A game soon enough.
Maybe she plugged herself in like a cell phone on her time off.
“Thanks,” Lyric murmured as she refocused on the club’s front exit.
“You serious about ending all this?” The woman paused as they finally got to the main door. “You’re a natural, and you’re just starting to get real traction.”
She tried to remember any part of the event. A conversation. A person. A glance. Hell, she was even blanking on her father and brother stopping by. But they had come… hadn’t they?
Lyric rerolled the sleeve on the construction worker’s coat. “I am serious, yes. But I appreciate everything you did for me, especially tonight.”
“You’re welcome.” Marcia shrugged as she opened things, the cold rushing in. “And I’ll do what I can to get you out of the Resolve2Evolve thing. No promises.”
“Something tells me you’ll make it happen.” Lyric offered a smile as they stepped out. “You can get things done, for sure.”
“It’s my only virtue—at least according to my mother, who wanted me married three years ago and working on baby number two by now.” Marcia glanced around at the empty, snowy street. “Where’s your car?”
“Oh, that’s okay.” She looked up to where the billboard had been mounted. Tendrils of the scaffolding were still in place, metal whiskers on the building’s square head. “I’m taken care of.”
The woman looked pointedly at the heavy coat. “Better not let your boyfriend see you in that.”
Lyric’s stare drifted to the construction site as she brought the rough lapels in closer to her throat. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
There was a pause. And then Marcia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to take that thing back to him tonight. Aren’t you.”
Before Lyric could pull a response out of her butt, a forefinger was right in front of her face. “Now, listen, you have to be careful in this big city. A split-second lifesaver doesn’t make him a saint. Do you have Mace? Of course you don’t.” Marcia rummaged around in her purse and shoved a tube forward. “Here, you take this. Don’t be afraid to use it. It’s not legal, but who cares—and don’t go back to that construction site.”
“It’s his coat.”
“Put it in the back of your closet and let it be a memento of tonight. Or what your career could have been.”
“I’m just going to do the right thing—”