Risky and Wild(70)

“Why do you think he did it?” Lyric asks me as she pulls out a block of cream cheese and some parmesan from a reusable grocery bag. “Landon, I mean. Your VP. Why would he join up with a cartel?”

I look away as pain crashes over me. Fuck. I don't have an answer to that question and it's killing me inside. My best friend, my brother, he betrayed us all and I can't for the life of me figure out why. There's an idea, hidden deep down, that I don't want to acknowledge. I want to believe that there's some twisted, complicated reason for Rebecca and Landon's betrayal, some sinister plot. But the thing that I fear most, that haunts my dreams at night, is that it's simple. Too simple.

“I …” There's a long pause as I struggle to make myself say what I've been refusing to think about this whole time. Now that I know where Mile Wide is getting their money from, that they've been paying off anyone and everyone to get their way, I have a guess. It's a sick, fucked-up disgusting guess, but there it is. The easiest answer is usually the simplest, right? “Money.”

I slug back my drink and try not to choke.

Money.

I think my brother betrayed me for money.

Lyric doesn't say anything for a long moment, letting me revel in my despair in peace.

“I found the name of that nurse: Clint Woodrow. He lives a few blocks away from my sister actually. He's been working at the hospital since he got his nursing degree, but he called in sick today.” I nod my head and glance up at Lyric as she passes over a piece of paper to me. Our fingers brush, sending a hot wave of fire through my body. Fuuuuuck. I want to throw her over the counter and screw her until she comes all over me. “If he hasn't skipped town, I'd be shocked.”

“Oh, you'd be surprised,” I say with a slight smile I don't really feel. “Idiots will be idiots.” Lyric sets her glass aside as I stare down at the page in my hand. Well, I'll be damned. It's a photo of our good friend, Mr. Woodrow. Perfect. If the man's still around, we'll find him. “Good work, Pint-Size,” I say as I slide the picture across the counter and lean in towards her. “You're a right proper outlaw now, aren't you?”

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn't quite reach those gorgeous eyes of her. No, she's holding something back. I stand up straight and watch as she fishes out the rest of the ingredients for our dinner. Not that I'm complaining about having a girl this beautiful at my place, but … it'd be nice to take her out sometime, do the whole romance bit. But I can only do that if she decides she wants this, if she decides to go all in with me. Then, if the town gossips, they can go fuck themselves.

Unconsciously, I find myself squeezing my hands into fists. I've never wanted anything as badly as I want this, and I knew better than to let it get to this point. But it's done, and I'm falling for this girl hard and fast.

I rake my fingers through my hair.

“Alright, spill it,” I growl at her, because I can see distrust lingering behind Lyric's eyes and I don't like it. Her sudden exhale gets the hair rising on the back of my neck as I watch her aggressively tear into a box of dried fettuccine. Wish she'd told me her plan first because I know how to make the good stuff—from scratch. That's right, one-percenter with a pasta maker and damn proud of it.

“That talk I had with Glinda today,” she starts, and I clench my teeth. Fuck. I knew it, just fucking knew it. Of course that bloody bitch said something she shouldn't have. When Lyric glances my way, her expression is tinged with some of that anger I saw at the clubhouse when I brought up her job. “It was a little more … revealing than I would've liked.”

“Yeah? And how's that?” I ask, leaning against the wall of floor to ceiling cabinets behind me.

“Well, she, uh, pretty purposefully let something slip.” Lyric drags the shopping bags off the counter and starts to wad them up one by one, her actions more forceful than necessary. “Something about the barbecue.”

I raise my brows at that.

“Alright then, and? Out with it now.” Lyric flicks a frustrated glare in my direction as I beckon with tattooed fingers for her to continue. “I'm not much for suspense, Pint-Size.”

“Glinda was just curious about whether or not I'd say yes tomorrow.” It takes me a long, hard second to figure that one out. Ah shit. “You know, when you proposed?”

“Listen, Pint-Size …”

Lyric bends down and digs in the cabinet for a stainless steel pot, slamming it down on the countertop and making me grit my teeth.

“You really asked your buddies permission to marry me? Brought it up in a boardroom like it was some kind of business decision? Real classy, Royal. What every girl dreams of.”