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“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.
I liked the warm tones of the covers, and the pillows were just the right firmness to make me never want to get out of bed. There was a dresser near the closet and a TV stand with a large flat screen sitting on it. Seeing the remote on the nightstand beside me, I grabbed it.
I wasn’t surprised to see it was on one of the sports channels. It was weird, because two minutes later, the host of whatever show was on started talking about Tennessee’s upcoming game against Jacksonville that Sunday and how Luca Thornton dominated for the defense.
The guy started talking football lingo, and I tuned him out, just watching footage of Luca playing the previous week against Indianapolis, and then a few clips from some of his college games. I winced when he roughly tackled some massive offensive guy during one of his Alabama games. I didn’t know guys on the defense could move so fast.
My knowledge of football was pretty nonexistent, but I did know that a lot of the guys on the defense were on the heavy side. Luca, however, was pure muscle.
“Really?” Lyric grumbled when he came back into the room. He seemed irritated, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he kept his eyes on the TV. “These idiots don’t have anything better to do, so they’re debating which skank my dumb-ass brother is currently dating?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. Half the time, I don’t understand what they are talking about anyway,” I admitted.
He dropped down beside me on the bed, his arm going across me and pulling me into his body. I cuddled close, pillowing my head on his thick shoulder. “Here’s everything you need to know about my brother, bab
e. One, he’s always been in love with Violet. Since before she was even born. They had this weird bond that started when Aunt Harper was pregnant with her. Two, he fucked up, and he’s been paying the price ever since. Three, when you hear these morons talk about who he’s dating, they get it wrong every time. He lives solely for Vi, and he isn’t stupid enough to mess up again… I hope.”
The last two words were gritted out as live footage of Luca walking out of the locker room after practice that evening showed some girl jumping into his arms and kissing him.
“Ah fuck,” he muttered. “This isn’t going to be pretty.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shifted so he was holding me with his other arm. “Five, four, three, two…” He’d didn’t even get to one before his phone chimed with multiple texts all at once, and I looked at the screen.
Mom: Did you know your brother is dating someone?
Dad: Who the fuck is that trash with your brother?
Lucy: What the hell is Luca thinking?
Lyric released a pained sigh but didn’t open the phone to return any of the messages. It was like he was waiting. And a few seconds later, he grunted as one more text appeared on the screen.
Vi: Going to London with Shaw for the weekend. If you see anything you don’t like about me in the trash mags, be sure and screenshot that shit and send it to your dirtbag brother.
“And Self-Destruct Violet has made a comeback,” he muttered unhappily.
I snatched the phone out of his hand and turned it off. “Let’s not worry about them for a few minutes,” I told him as I rolled onto his chest and smiled down at him. “You just survived having a gun pressed to your skull. I think that should be celebrated.”
He groaned, his hands cupping my ass and pressing me into his lower body. “You almost passed out on me half an hour ago, Mila. My cock is weeping for you right now, but there will be no sex until you are feeling better.”
“I am feeling better,” I kissed his jaw, nipping at his neck. “In fact, I feel amazing right now. Our first showdown with my dad went better than I could have hoped.”
