“Well, hello Lyric Rentz,” he says and it's an effort to make myself keep smiling. No, I don't just think I hate him. I actually do. Hate him, I mean. “I've been calling you all day, but you didn't answer. I was starting to think one of those bikers scooped you up and dragged you back to their cave.” He laughs, but I can't seem to find anything funny in that statement. Partially, I think, because it's almost true.
“I'm kind of in the middle of something, Brent,” I say, gesturing randomly in the direction of my living room. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was just thinking,” he says, lifting up a bottle of wine in his left hand that I hadn't noticed before. “That we could sit and talk for a while?”
“I'm a little,” I gesture at my robe this time, “indisposed, you know? Maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow instead?” Brent raises his eyebrows at me, like he's not used to being turned down, glancing over at the big red truck sitting conspicuously in the center of my driveway. I honestly considered dropping my groceries off and then parking it a few blocks away so nobody I knew would see it. But … after the day I've just had, I couldn't bring myself to care. If Mrs. Elden calls my mom and tattles on me, then so what?
“We could,” he says, his voice dropping flirtatiously, fingers reaching out and hooking on the neckline of my robe. “But lunch seems so impersonal. I didn't come here to talk business, Lyric.” As politely as I can, I push his hand away with a small laugh.
“Well, Brent, I don't know if you noticed but I'm a little busy right now.” I gesture at the truck and raise my eyebrows. Whatever conclusion he decides to come to because of that is his problem. “Maybe some other time.”
Brent's frown deepens as he looks at the truck for a long moment and then turns his attention back to me.
“Your brother says you had a meeting with the Wolves' president today? How did that go?” I keep smiling.
“Brent.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hand, palm out in mock surrender. “I was just asking because I found out some information today that I think you should know.” I raise my eyebrows and cross my arms over my chest. “I don't know if you've talked with your brother today, but I told him he should come over and be the one to tell you this.” He pauses for dramatic effect as I study his face, his bright blue eyes and perfect blond hair. I used to think Brent was the most attractive man I'd ever seen.
After meeting Royal, I think I've rewritten all my rules.
I shiver again and goosebumps climb up my arms.
“He doesn't want you going over there anymore. It isn't safe.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my eyes moving past him and scanning the street. I have that same feeling of being watched that I did a few days ago. It feels different this time, though, but I can't figure out why. I still get the chills and my palms still go clammy, but I'm not afraid. “If you didn't think I should be going over there, why not just tell me? My brother isn't my keeper, Brent.” I stare him straight in the face, but I can see that he doesn't take me any more seriously now than he did in college.
“Lyric,” Brent says, glancing over his shoulder like he can feel the eyes on us, too. “Remember how I told you about my informant?” I nod, still not understanding why he's sharing information that should be classified. When he looks back at me, his expression is grave. “Lyric, he's dead.”
My eyes go wide and my knees feel weak. I have to reach out a hand and put it against the doorjamb just to stay upright. I knew it in my heart, knew it but didn't want to believe it. Royal, or someone acting under Royal's orders, probably killed this guy. All because of me. Because I'd called Brent, because he'd gotten in touch with this guy.
“And we know the president was directly involved in the murder. I know he seems like an okay guy, Lyric, but he's dangerous as hell. Now, I can't tell you all the details, but I'm hoping this'll all be cleared up soon. For now, both Sully and I think it's best if you avoid having any contact with the Alpha Wolves.” My gaze snaps up to his face. Something in his voice …
“What are you doing, Brent?” I ask him, trying to pull the secrets from his eyes that I can feel roiling under his skin. “What the hell are you and Sully doing?”
“It has nothing to do with you, Lyric,” he says, changing his tone now that he's dropped his bomb, seen me punished for turning him down. “Don't worry about it. One way or another, Sully and I will make sure the Wolves fall in line.”
My hand reaches out and curls around his arm, not because I care what he does, not really, but because I know that this crap, it all started because of me, because I got too ambitious, too desperate to please my father, to follow in his footsteps. I didn't just want to be his extra daughter anymore, his tag along, his assistant. I wanted to prove myself and now I feel like I'm standing on a crumbling precipice.