But I want her anyway.
All of this bullshit I'm feeling, it's gotta be just a side effect of all the crap that's going down with the club, right? I tap my fingers against the handlebars and try to make myself leave, go home, cool off a bit.
Screw that.
I start my bike up and ease into Lyric's driveway, tossing my helmet on the grass as I climb off and stalk up to the front door. I don't even bother to knock, turning the handle and stepping inside with a million things on my lips that I want to say to her.
When she spins to face me in her white bathrobe, tears streaming down her face, all of those words disappear in a rush of feeling, in a desperate need to scoop her into my arms and hold her tight, soothe away her pain and destroy whoever the fuck it was that caused it.
"What the bloody hell did he do to you?" I ask her, my voice edgy and broken, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. "Tell me, Lyric, but I swear to God if he hurt you, I'll fucking kill him."
"He didn't hurt me," she says, swiping her arm across her eyes. "I don't give a shit about him." She sniffles, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to gather herself together. I stay rooted to the spot, afraid to find out what I'll do if I walk over there, if I touch her, hold her. "In fact, I think I just realized today that I hate him."
I smile, but it only lasts for a second, fading away as she looks over at me like she's never seen me before. Was I too rough in the chapel? Did I scare her away?
"Look, Pint-Size," I begin, but she's already shaking her head.
"No," she says, glancing away. "No, no, this is my fault. I just … things between us have been happening so fast that I … it's crazy, I know." Lyric stands up straight and runs her fingers through her wet hair.
"What's crazy?" I ask, wanting her to say it first, to put this strange connection between us into words. I want to … try this thing out, take her on a proper date or something. I know that ultimately I'm just setting myself up for heartbreak, but at this moment I don't give a shit.
"Brent and my brother," she says with a small sniffle, surprising me by changing the subject. "They're up to something. I don't know what it is, but I'm … please. They're idiots. They don't know what they're doing."
My heart stutters and my hands clench tighter. The look in her eyes, the reason I didn't recognize it at first is because I didn't want to see it.
She's scared of me. Lyric is scared of me.
"What did that blond douche say to you?" I ask, taking a step towards her. She backs up and shakes her head, the tears already drying on her cheeks as she tries to stand up to me for the sake of two dumb fucks that think they can shakedown a one-percenter and walk away unscathed. "What did he tell you?" My voice is low and dangerous. If Lyric knows … shit. If she knows, then she becomes another loose end that the club will have to take care of. I refuse to let that happen. "What did he say to you?" I ask again, my voice gravelly and rough.
"He didn't give specifics, he just … he said that he and Sully were taking care of things with the club."
"Bullshit," I say, moving towards her again, running my fingers up the side of her face. She doesn't lean into my touch this time, doesn't react at all. "He told you something."
"I don't know anything, Royal. Just … whatever they do, don't hurt them. They're too stupid for their own good."
"I'm going to ask you one more time, and you better tell me the fucking truth. This goes way beyond you and me, Lyric. The club's involved now. Your brother and his friend, they made a big mistake today, one that even I can't erase, so if you know something you have to tell me now. If you don't, then I can't help you."
She stares up at me with those big green eyes of hers, lips parted softly and face ashen. I've already lost the chance to protect one woman that I care about today; I won't lose another. Lyric might be a stranger, might be the mayor's daughter, might even be just a hot fuck that I'm making a big mistake with, but I want to help her out here, I do. If she doesn't confide in me now though, I'm powerless.
The Wolves will have justice. If she's tangled up in this, she'll go down with her brother and Brent. It won't be by my hand, but I'm not a lone wolf. I have a pack, and the pack demands blood for wrongs committed.
"Take a risk, Pint-Size. Bet it all on me, right here and now. I might be a dangerous man, but I'm a dangerous man with options. Don't take that choice away from me. Tell me what Brent said to you."
"He … you killed your vice president," she whispers and I feel the blood drain from my own face, the moments of that painful night flickering in front of my eyes like they're superimposed across Lyric's frightened face. Landon's gritted teeth, the blood seeping through his white T-shirt, the gun clutched tight in his hand. Muzzle pointed towards me, another shot and he stumbles, my own gun in the air and the kickback in the web of my hand.
I swallow hard and close my eyes, trying to banish it all from my mind. This isn't a moment for weakness. If anything, I have to be stronger now than I've ever been before-and I have to fight twice as hard on a fucking chance.
"Pint-Size," I begin, opening my eyes and looking down at her, but she's already turning around and fleeing to the other side of the counter.
"That's not it," she whispers, starting to pant, her breath coming in small flutters as she lays her fingers on the countertop and looks across at me. "I mean, it's not just that. Royal, I … if someone has to pay for this, it should be me. This is my fault." The shock of her own words is written across her face, like she can't believe she's saying what she's saying.
"What's your fault?" I ask, gritting my teeth, emotions writhing violently inside my chest. I should turn them off, push forward like I always do, but this girl. Goddamn this fucking girl! "What?!" I scream the word and she flinches.
"I called Brent," she says, voice trembling as she backs up against the cabinets. "I knew him from college, so I called in the favor. All I wanted was for him to make you nervous enough to sign the papers. I just want to be seen, Royal. I want to be in politics, and I … needed my dad to look at me like I was worth something."
I just stare at her for a long moment, too long, the silence stretching thin and sticky between us.
"You did what?" I ask, my brain rushing to process the information.
"I called Brent. He wasn't supposed to do anything. I didn't think he'd find an informant or try to make a case or any of that, and I … I don't know how my brother's involved. I just, if you're going to punish someone, make it me. I started all of this." She pauses, licking her lower lip and lifting her chin. "Your vice president, if he really is dead then it's my fault. His blood is on my hands."
No words.
I take a step back. Another. Lyric just keeps staring at me, steel in her gaze, lips in a flat line. I should … there are so many things I should do right now.
"I'm taking responsibility, Royal," she says, closing her eyes and nodding like she's accepted the kind of terrible fate that the club would exact on her under most circumstances. That I would order them to exact on her in most circumstances. "But you, this, I didn't expect any of it."
"Shut the fuck up," I say and her eyes snap open, pleading with me, begging me to be anyone but who I am. "Stay here and keep your mouth shut. Don't admit this to anyone, ever again, do you understand me?"
"Royal-"
"No." I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair. Shouldn't be surprised, should I? I let myself get caught up in a complete stranger, broke all my own rules, and fucked the fuck up. What was I thinking? This girl's not any different than the rest of them. Just a hot fuck with her own agenda, like they always are.
"I'm so sorry-" I cut her off again by turning around and slamming my palm against the wood of the front door.
"Don't talk to me right now, Lyric." I stand up and turn back towards her. "In fact, the way I see it, you and me, we're done. In bed, in business, whatever the hell it is that you want from me." She starts to move around the corner, but I'm not sure what I'll do if she gets to close to me. Kiss her? Fuck her? God, I almost want to slap her. But I don't hit women, not even ones who get my best friend killed with their bullshit. My brother is gone because of her. The thought's unfair, I know, because there's no way in hell she knows about any of the rest of it, about Mile Wide and all that.
But it doesn't matter because I can't stop thinking it.
"Email me whatever shit it is that you've got going on with the city. I'll sign it."
"Royal, wait," she starts, but I'm already done here. I've heard what I needed to hear, and I'll keep my word. She gave me the truth, gave me exactly what I asked for.