Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (94 page)

“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.

A man is dead. My brother and Brent are up to something. And I think … I think I'm falling in love with a motorcycle club president.

“Brent, don't mess with these people. Go home. This wasn't supposed to turn into anything serious. It's gotten out of control, and I don't want to see anyone else get hurt.” Brent pushes my hand away, the same way I did his.

“Don't worry about it, Lyric. Things are under control. You asked me out here to put pressure on the club, and I did. But things have changed. This isn't just your game anymore.” He smiles once more at me and turns away, even as I reach out for his suit jacket, my fingers sliding along the fabric and my heart shattering in my chest.

Somebody's going to get hurt in all of this.

Brent, Sully, me. Maybe even Royal.

Somehow, it's that last one that seems to hurt the most.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Royal

My blood is boiling and my fingers are clenched tight around the handlebars of my bike.

The bloody fucking fuck is that blond douche bitch doing in front of Lyric's place?
I watch their exchange with a mounting rage that I can't explain or control, the frenzied need I felt to get over here amplifying as I watch her reach out and cling to his suit jacket. I know we've only known each other a few days, but how can she not feel this stupid fucking burning need that's making me clench my teeth and do stupid shit like drive all the way out here to see her.

I watch as Brent turns and walks away while Lyric slams her front door like she's upset. My eyes track the man's movements as he heads to his car and unlocks the doors. Part of me wants to get this whole thing over with and go bash his head in with my hammer, but I know that's not necessary. Lyric and whatever relationship he has with her aside, Brent is already scheduled to disappear.

You're acting like a crazy person, Royal,
I tell myself, closing my eyes and taking several deep breaths. I've never been the jealous type, never cared enough about a girl to give a shit about what she did with other men. I shouldn't care now. Royal and me, we're strangers from two different worlds.

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.