Fuck. It was her father. This wasn’t exactly how I wanted to meet the man again, but at least we weren’t naked. That probably would have earned me a bullet to the back of the head already.
“Monroe got home and said she saw your car in front of this dickhead’s shop,” Masterson told his daughter. “Then I get a text from Doc saying he saw you leaving the fucking emergency room with some guy he’d never seen before. Said you were the one getting checked out, Mila. What the fuck is wrong with you that this guy took you to the fucking hospital and you didn’t even call me or your mom?”
“Dad, please put the gun away, and I’ll tell you everything.” Tears poured down her face, and she tried to move out from under me, but I only held on tighter. I didn’t care if it was her dad; I wasn’t letting her go when he had a gun in his hand and his finger on the trigger.
“Get your ass up, Mila. Right fucking now,” he barked.
“No goddamn way,” I growled, unable to turn my head because the gun was still pressed against it. “She’s not moving until the gun is put away. I don’t give a fuck if you’re her father or not. You will not put her in danger by waving that damn thing around while she’s unprotected.”
“Lyric,” she begged in a whisper. “Please don’t push his buttons. His knife is out too. He’d just as easily slit your throat right now.”
“Don’t give a fuck,” I told her. “Put the gun away, Mr. Masterson, and I’ll let her up. We can talk like adults, or you can slit my throat like Mila said. But the gun needs to go.”
I heard him curse viciously, but the gun was moved away from my head, and I was finally able to look over my shoulder just in time to see him tuck the gun into the holster under his leather cut.
Mila moved fast, sliding out from under me and rolling on top of me, but facing her father. “Don’t hurt him, Dad. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Why were you at the hospital with this guy, Mila? Why didn’t you call me or your mom if you were sick?” He had a wicked-looking knife in his left hand, waving it around as he talked to her. “And why the fuck are you in his house now? I know for a fact that Raven sent all you kids a text telling you who the new tattoo artist in town is. Why the hell would you even go to his shop?”
“Dad. There’s something I need to tell you.” Her voice was weak, cracking every other word. “But Mom should hear it too. Can we just go home and discuss this there?”
“Tell me now, Mila.”
“I-I think Mom should be present,” she argued. “So you don’t do something you can’t take back.”
“Now!” His voice was like a clap of thunder, making her flinch.
Fuck this shit. I wasn’t going to let him scare her. She shouldn’t be getting upset. The doctor told us she needed to keep stress levels low, and she was shaking. Grasping her waist, I lifted her and placed her at the end of the bed. Standing, I faced her father.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” I snarled at him, taking a step in his direction. Mila wrapped her arms around me from behind, keeping me from getting closer.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t make him madder than he already is.”
“No one is going to talk to you like that,” I told her, covering her hands, my fingers stroking over her knuckles. “Ever.”
“You got guts, kid,” Masterson said in a calm voice, and I felt Mila tremble against me. I balled my hands into fists, ready to knock this asshole on his ass if he kept scaring her. “But they’re about to be spilled on the floor if you don’t get the hell out of my way so I can take my daughter home.”
Chapter 16
Mila
This was it. It was the end of Lyric.
He’d just told me he loved me, and now Dad was going to kill him. There would be no talking my way out of this. No twisting Dad around my finger to get what I wanted. I was too scared for the father of my babies to even try.
“She stays,” Lyric told Dad, not backing down. His voice was hard, full of just as much venom as Dad’s was. He wasn’t shaking in fear as he should have been doing.
The only thing that told me he was even affected by the sight of my dangerous father and his deadly knife was the pounding of his heart, which I could hear with my ear pressed up against his back. But I wasn’t sure if it was because of Dad or the thought of me leaving.
“Lyric,” I whispered his name. “Please.”
I didn’t want him to get hurt. The thought of Dad hurting him, or worse—killing him—made me sick to my stomach. I tried to breathe through my mouth to fight the nausea, but the world was starting to dim around the edges.
Panic began to choke me. “Lyric,” I cried his name, clutching at him.
He turned in my arms, his hands now trembling as he cupped my face. “Babe? Babe!” he shouted, but it sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. “Mila, fuck,” he groaned.
I felt him lift me and then the comfort of the mattress at my back. “Baby, the doctor said no stress,” he scolded gently, stroking my hair back from my face.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Dad’s voice was full of concern now, having lost some of the menace.
When I turned my head, I saw him standing on the other side of the bed, his knife still in hand. “I’m okay,” I told him weakly.
“The fuck you are,” Dad half shouted. “Mila, I swear to God, you better tell me what’s wrong with you right now before I lose my shit.”
“Dad…”
“She’s pregnant,” Lyric snarled at him. “And she shouldn’t be stressed out. You’re waving a knife around and scaring the hell out of her. Her blood pressure dropped, and she nearly passed out. Now, either put the knife down and get me a wet washcloth out of the bathroom, or leave.”
To my utter surprise, the knife went into the holster on Dad’s belt, and he moved faster than I’d ever seen him move before as he disappeared into the connecting bathroom. Moments later, a cool cloth was pressed to my brow.
“Feeling better now, babe?” Lyric asked softly, stroking soothing swirls with his thumb on my wrist he was holding.
“I’m so tired,” I whined, hating how weak I felt.
“It’s okay. You can sleep,” he promised. “Just close your eyes. I’ll walk your dad out.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my daughter,” Dad said in a curt voice, and my head began to throb.
“Yes, you fucking are,” Lyric told him in a voice that was hard as stone. “You’ve already upset her enough. She’s not feeling well and needs to rest. You can come back tomorrow—if she’s feeling up to it.”
It felt surreal that he was going toe-to-toe with my dad. The father of my babies hadn’t backed down once to the man who’d had a gun pressed to his skull only minutes before. Did he not understand how deadly Spider Masterson was? Or did he just not care?
“You don’t tell me what to do, boy. That’s my little girl there—”
“And that’s my woman!” Lyric roared, then gave me an apologetic grimace as he bent over me, gently brushing my hair back from my face again. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to yell. Are you okay?”
I was pretty sure I’d actually passed out and this was all some kind of weird dream, one where Dad wasn’t shooting anyone. Lyric was facing down the Angel of Death and—so far—had survived unscathed.
Dad muttered something I didn’t catch, pulling my gaze back to him. I watched as he scrubbed his hands over his face agitatedly, and I held my breath, waiting for his next move, praying Lyric didn’t get murdered.
“I’m going home,” he surprised me by announcing. “But your mother and I will be back tomorrow. And we will get answers, Mila Jane.” He pointed his finger at Lyric. “You better protect this girl with your life. You hear me, rocker boy?”
“Loud and clear, sir,” Lyric told him, his tone full of respect for a man who’d nearly killed him only minutes before. “I promise you, I will protect her until my last breath. I love her, Mr. Masterson.”
Dad opened his mouth to argue. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to say something biting, but he surprised me further when he clenched his jaw shut and nodded. “Tomorrow,” he repeated, the single word coming out threateningly.
As soon as he was gone, Lyric kissed my brow. “I’ll be right back. I need to lock up downstairs and set the alarm. Your dad moved like a fucking ninja, babe.”
“Dad is more dangerous than a ninja,” I warned.
He snorted out a dry laugh. “No shit. Stay there. Don’t move around while I’m gone. I shouldn’t be long.”
While he was downstairs, I glanced around his room. It was fairly neat for a guy. Maverick’s room was a disaster unless River snuck in, and then the mess drove her crazy and she cleaned it for him. I didn’t know if Lyric’s room was so clean because he was a neat person, or if it was just because he’d only recently moved in. Either way, I had a feeling he wanted me to stick around, so I’d make sure this room stayed clean.