Connor sighed. “Thanks, man. You know I’d love to see Angelina, but the truth is I’m really shitty company right now.”

“Okay. Offer stands, though.”

Twenty minutes later, Micah pulled into the apartment complex he shared with Connor. Connor got out, waved his thanks to Micah again, then headed for his apartment while Micah walked back to his.

He unlocked his door and went inside, home for the first time since the day he’d gone to Lyric’s hotel room after their meeting at the office.

Boy, had his life changed dramatically since then. That day had started something he’d never dreamed would happen. It seemed a lifetime ago.

His apartment had always been comfortable. Lived in. Slightly cluttered. His comfort place. A place he always enjoyed coming back to.

Tonight it was barren and sterile. The silence was suffocating and the walls seemed to close in on him from every direction.

He flopped onto the couch and reached for his phone to call Kane. He hadn’t wanted to go into the details in front of Micah. No matter that she already thought he’d betrayed her. He’d never tell anyone the things she’d shared with him.

“How is she?” Connor demanded when Kane answered the phone.

Kane sighed. “Not good. What the fuck happened?”

“It’s a clusterfuck, Kane. I can’t get into the details. They’ll be public soon enough. She thinks I sold her out. It’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“You sit on her, Kane. Keep her safe. Don’t let her do anything stupid. I’m going to give her until tomorrow and then I’m coming over and I don’t give a fuck how many guys you throw at me. All I’ll say is that you better be up on your workman’s comp, because if anyone tries to stop me, they’ll wind up in the hospital.”

Her head ached. Her jaw ached. Her heart ached. Her eyes were swollen and her nose felt like it had run off her face. She looked and sounded horrible. She had no voice, which was pretty stupid considering it was how she made her living.

Her throat was so swollen it was hard to swallow but no matter how much she tried to turn it off, tears still leaked endlessly down her cheeks.

She’d lain in bed for hours. Kane had come and gone with an ice pack for her face. He’d hesitated and she could tell he had no liking for leaving her, but she shut him out and curled in on herself even more until he’d left with a sigh.

Grief was a living, breathing entity inside her. It swelled so much that she feared she would break. Maybe she was already broken. Maybe she’d always been broken and had slapped enough Band-Aids on to muddle through.

She tried hard to conjure her mother’s face, to remember her smile, but every time she thought of her she saw only blood, heard the sounds of her being beaten and heard her cries of pain.

She hadn’t even attended her mother’s funeral. Had there even been a service? Lyric doubted it. There had been no money and no one to care. Lyric had been hospitalized for days and afterward she’d been released into the care of the state.

They’d tried their best. Lyric had lived in a poor county without many resources. No one had been willing to foster the silent, grieving child. She’d been too steeped in violence. Many were afraid that Danny Higgins would come after her. After the trial she’d been shipped off to Jackson and shuffled around there.

She’d been awarded a new life. New name. New birth certificate. The kind judge had told her that this was her opportunity to rise above her circumstances. It was the only thing that had managed to break through the thick wall of defense she’d erected.

She’d taken him at his word. She’s chosen her name to honor her mother’s love for her singing. And she’d made a vow that one day she’d get the hell out of Mississippi and she’d never look back.

She’d spent every day after that running. Always running from her past. Burying everything under a don’t-give-a-shit, abrasive exterior so that no one ever dug deep. Until Connor.

A fresh surge of pain nearly paralyzed her. She’d believed him. Or maybe she’d been so desperate for someone to love her that she’d been blinded. But she had believed in him and his love for her. She’d wanted it so bad even when it baffled her.

She sat up in bed and wrapped her cold arms around herself and hugged as she rocked back and forth. A glance at the clock told her it was nearly two a.m. She laid her cheek on her knees and stared sightlessly toward the window.

She didn’t even know where her mother was buried.

The thought hit her like a thunderclap and she flinched from the realization. She’d been so focused on her own survival that she’d never gone back to see her mother’s grave. Didn’t even know if her life had been marked by a cold slab of concrete.

Had she been forgotten? Brushed aside as a county expense? Had anyone ever brought flowers to acknowledge the life, however short it had been?

Lyric struggled out of bed. Her clothes were wrinkled. She hadn’t changed. Blood stained her shirt. Her pants sported a new tear. She thrust her feet into a pair of flip-flops by the bed and went in search of Kane.

He wasn’t asleep. It shouldn’t have surprised her. The man was more machine than human. He was awake in the living room, a book propped on his knee.

He looked up when she entered and got to his feet with a frown.

“You look like hell, Lyric.”

She blinked at the personal assessment. It was very unlike Kane to offer more than a professional opinion. But it was clear that concern burned in his eyes.

“I need to go to Mississippi,” she said in a stark voice.

Kane’s brows drew together in a frown. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have to go. Now. I’d like you to go. I may be crazy but I’m not completely without a sense of self-preservation. I’ll pay you. Of course. Your travel expenses. Whatever.”

Kane rubbed a hand through his hair. “Look, Lyric, you’re clearly distraught. No decision should ever be made under this kind of emotional duress. Get some sleep. If you still feel like you need to go tomorrow, I’ll take you.”

She turned, her back ramrod stiff. “I’ll go alone, then.”

A curse exploded from Kane and he crossed the room to grasp her arm. “What the hell is in Mississippi?”

She glanced dully up at him. “My mother.”

Connor’s phone rang at six a.m. He hadn’t slept a wink the entire night. He’d been too pissed and too worried. He reached for the phone he’d tossed on the couch and put it to his ear.

“Malone,” he said shortly.

“We’re coming over,” Gray said in his ear.

“Don’t bother,” Connor muttered.

“Fuck you.”

The line went dead and Connor slouched back on the couch. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. He should have slept. He had to be at his best to confront Lyric. She was going to listen to him, damn it.

He checked his watch. Two more hours. He’d give her two hours and then he was going to take no prisoners.

His doorbell rang and he cursed. Damn interfering friends. He dragged himself to his feet and went to open the door.

“Don’t look so happy to see us,” Micah said dryly as he shoved his way in.

“What the hell do y’all want?” he asked irritably.

“Our women heard of the hoopla. They’re all pretty pissed,” Gray said as he and Nathan came in behind Micah. “That was quite a scene yesterday.”

Connor sighed in resignation and slammed the door before turning to follow the guys into his living room.

“Is everything out?” Connor asked wearily.

Nathan’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, I’d say so. Or at least all the sordid details of her past. Julie’s ready to go kick some serious ass even though she has no idea whose ass she wants to kick.”

“Lyric thinks I sold her out,” Connor said bleakly. “She confided in me the night before. And then at the music store, it all came out.”