Across the table, my big brother glares at me, his mouth downturned, his green eyes staring straight into mine. He doesn't like the story I fed him about falling down my front steps. It's a lame story, even I know that, but I was so frazzled from my encounter with Royal that my mind felt like a pan of scrambled eggs. I couldn't come up with anything else.
"You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" Kailey asks, playing the sympathetic big sister card. I'm not falling for it. If I flat-out admit to having sex with Royal, she won't let me live it down. In fact, she'd probably save that secret for my future husband and surprise him with the revelation on our wedding day. She doesn't mean to be like that, but with our Mom and Dad for parents, it was kind of inevitable.
"How are things going with the Alpha Wolves?" my dad asks, pausing in his self-important rant long enough to gaze across the table at me, a fork in one hand and a smile on his lips. His hair is dark and perfect, not a hint of gray or white to be seen. I think he dyes it, but if I ever asked, he'd deny it.
I set my wineglass down and lift my napkin to my lips, dabbing at a pretend drop of liquid.
Well, Dad, I fucked the sexy British president of the MC in one of the club dorm rooms today. That was nice. Oh, but right before that, I got in a fight with one of his … groupies. I think I held my own in the fight though.
"Royal McBride is a difficult man to pin down," I say with a self-deprecating smile. "He blew off our last meeting, but we have another scheduled for Friday. I have our proposals written up and ready to go; all he needs to do is sign them and we can schedule the photo op."
My dad's gotten it into his head that a picture of his staff with a few choice members of the Alpha Wolves would make a great front page piece for the paper.
Local Government Takes Down Organized Crime Ring With Careful Bureaucracy.
Oh God. The day that Royal lets the press print something like that is the day that pigs fly. I don't even know the guy, but one look at him and I knew that he wasn't about to roll over for the mayor's office.
My dad nods briskly, dismissing me just like that. It should hurt that he doesn't care more, that he doesn't want to know more about me and what I do, but I've long since outgrown that. If it doesn't involve work or parties or what the neighbors think, then Philip Rentz isn't interested.
"Wonderful. You keep working your charm on those bikers, Lyric, and get the job done."
"I always do," I say, but my stomach's dropping faster than a stone in water. I have a meeting with Royal on Friday. And I just had sex with him. If I close my eyes, I can still feel his fingers on my chin, his body buried deep inside of mine. The whole encounter's a bit of a blur if I'm being honest with myself, but the feelings are there, the scorch of his flesh across mine. I feel like I've been burned.
A waiter sets a plate of food in front of me, but I'm not hungry.
Not for steak and salad and a twice baked potato.
I'm hungry for Royal McBride, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do about that.
My house is dark when I get home, the only one on the block without a porch light on. It burned out weeks ago, but I've been too busy with work to bother with it.
After Toni left the office and moved back to Eureka, I was left with a mess of paperwork to sort through and a puzzle to try and figure out. How, exactly, does the mayor's office get an outlaw biker club to agree to anything? Money helps, but they already have plenty of that. Grabbing them a get out of jail free card from the feds? Helping them avoid a RICO-Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations-case … priceless. A lot of big words, sure, but it all comes down to one thing: that RICO acronym there, it lets the government charge and convict the leaders in a criminal organization, whether or not they're actually the ones who got their hands dirty. Money laundering, obstruction of justice, even murder.
I never would've had that carrot to dangle if I hadn't done what I did.
Philip Rentz doesn't care about the feds, doesn't have any political ambitions past the mayoral elections.
But I do.
A chill travels down my spine as I open my driver's side door and climb out, scanning the street around me for a moment before I slam it closed behind me. A quick push on my key fob locks the doors of my black Chrysler, and I head towards the front steps, pausing when I feel a little tickle on the back of my neck.
When I glance over my shoulder, there's no one behind me, but the feeling of being watched doesn't go away, not when I put my key in the lock, step inside and close it just as quickly.
I flick the deadbolt and the chain back into place and peek out the purple curtains that line my front window, but there's nothing and nobody there. I'm just being paranoid.
With a sigh, I toss my purse onto the coffee table behind me, running my hands down the front of my plain black dress, the one I always wear out with my family. Well, okay, so I have four or five different versions of it in my closet, but they're all so similar, they might as well be the same dress.
I looked so ridiculous in Kailey's dress. Hell, even calling it a dress is being generous. There was hardly any fabric there.
But Royal made me feel … not quite so silly in it.
He made me feel sexy as hell.
I slump down on the couch and run my hands over my face. I can't even believe that I slapped him. At the time, it seemed like just about the only thing I could do. Besides, he deserved it, didn't he? He led me upstairs and into that room with an agenda in mind-and I let him do it.
I stand up and start to pace, my conscience gnawing at me in a way I never expected.
I blew the whistle on the Alpha Wolves. Me. Not my dad. And I didn't even have anything on them, just a favor and a friend from college. I did my best not to think too hard about that when Royal had me pinned against the wall, when he asked point blank about it. But I didn't technically lie about anything, did I?
No, I didn't lie. All I did was sleep with the guy.
I take a deep breath and stop pacing for a moment, putting my hands on my lower back as I try to force my pounding heart to calm. But it's not beating that quickly because I lied, because I'm getting myself tangled in something as dangerous as this; it's beating because I'm letting myself get tangled in him.
A knock at the door startles me so badly that I jump, my heart slamming into my throat as I turn towards it and pause. It's only eight-thirty, so it's not like it's late or anything, but I don't often get unexpected visitors after dark.
"Coming!" I call as cheerfully as I can, sneaking to the curtains and taking another peek outside.
It's my brother.
Goddamn it.
"What do you want, Sully?" I ask as I open the door a crack, leaving the chain intact. "There is such a thing as text messaging, you know. Or phone calls, remember those? Email?"
"Stop being a smart ass and let me in, Lyric." I sigh and push the door closed, removing the chain and stepping back for all six foot three of my brother's imposing frame. He's almost as big as Royal. Almost. Although if I had to make a comparison between the two of them, I'd say they were complete opposites. My brother is all spit and polish while Royal is raw and unfinished. Nobody would ever mistake one of them for the other.
"I know you called Brent."
I cringe. Crap. I was kind of hoping to keep that under wraps for the time being. Having Sully know is like having my father know.
"I talked to Dad about it after dinner tonight," he says and my heart plummets to my feet. Of course he did. I kick off my heels and bend down to grab them, trying to keep my cool and not descend into any sort of panic.
"All I'm trying to do is get Dad re-elected," I say, which is at least partially true. I do want Dad to get re-elected, but I also want the entire office to know I mean business, that I can get things done that nobody else was capable of. Not even Toni Gladstone. "Brent's not even here on a real investigation. He's just looking around, trying to scare up some concern, so I can get Royal and the Wolves to sign on the dotted line."
Sully tightens his mouth and slides his fingers through his dark brown hair.
"If Brent's not here on business, then why the hell does have an informant? An informant for what?"
I blink back at him, my heels clutched tight in my fingers. The wood floor beneath my feet feels suddenly cold.
"An informant?" I ask, a sick feeling taking hold in my stomach.
"Yeah, he bragged to me about it over a couple beers last night." My brother pauses and glances around, like he's never seen my place before. I think he's just never bothered to look. His brows raise up at my massive collection of decorative throw pillows. There are worse things to be addicted to, right? "The vice president or something. Can you even believe that? Guess there really is no honor among thieves."
"Brent told you all of that?" I ask, my voice breathy and light. Swearing in a new vice president. That's what that party was for. So what, exactly, happened to the old one? "Shouldn't all that stuff be confidential?"