Page 70 of Twisted Road

“I already want to kill the fucker,” Warren said. “Don’t give me any more reasons.”

Czar flashed him a grin. “I think we’re done here, gentlemen.”

Absinthe and Czar and Keys stood. Reaper and Savage didn’t move from their positions. Neither had sat at the table and, as usual, seemed to be so still they faded into the shadows. Sid, Warren and Knox rose immediately when Czar did. Keys always found it interesting how Czar demanded and was treated with respect by those who didn’t really know him. He’d indicated the meeting was over, and it was over instantly.

They would wait for Sid, Warren and Knox to be gone before they ventured forth. Czar would take everything said to the rest of the club, and they would start making plans to shut down the threat to Headed for Hell and hopefully release any man, woman or child being held for trafficking in the caves above Sid’s territory. In doing that, they hoped they’d continue up the chain of command to find the identity of the man behind the Ghosts.

Keys hadn’t indicated to Lyric what he expected from her once he disappeared into the back room. He seemed to take it for granted that she would know—which she didn’t. For someone normal, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but she was a mimic. She fit in by watching others and doing what they did. Not knowing what was expected left her paralyzed. Scared. Angry. All emotions she had kept tightly under control since she was a very small child and learned she hadn’t really ever been accepted.

This was the reason she hadn’t ever tried to have a life with someone. She didn’t expect them to understand her—and yet she understood them. She knew most of Keys’ triggers because she paid close attention to him. When she focused on something, she did so completely. She knew that made her a good partner in a lot of ways, but at the same time she feared it made her appear needy. Sitting alone in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers, she was lost. Utterly and truly lost.

She’d built a life for herself. She was happy in that life. Having Keys for a friend—a real one—had added to that happiness. Now, she felt off-balance and afraid. She could admit that to herself. She kept making the commitment to him, and she meant it, but then he would introduce something new and frightening and expect her to trust him enough to get her through it. When it came to sex, she could handle it because in the end, he’d always given her the best experience, no matter how kinky he got. But this kind of thing…it threw her back to her childhood, when she was unwanted and trying to navigate a world she didn’t understand.

Lyric knew she was always the one expected to conform to the norms of thinking and acting. She was expected to know social cues. She’d been strict in her life, becoming the best at color and cuts, learning to play the game and making her salon friendly and welcoming. She had that role down perfectly. She did little outside of it. She didn’t go for coffee or tea with girlfriends. When she went to a bar to dance, because she loved to dance, it was always alone. She made friends with the bartender and a few regulars, but those kinds of friendships didn’t require anything of her.

No one ever bothered to try to find a way to communicate with her in a way she would understand until Keys. She knew it was impossible for others to understand how her brain worked. She’d studied and researched extensively, but every neurodivergent person was different. There were many of them, and all of them should count. Many were brilliant, and without them, discoveries that aided the world would never have been made.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind, knowing she was seeking to validate herself. She’d stopped doing that a few years earlier. It was upsetting to her how easy it was to fall back into old patterns of self-doubt and feeling unwanted.

She had to find a way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into. She didn’t want to hurt Keys, and she knew if she left, he wouldn’t understand, especially because she’d given him her word. She wanted to be with him. She did. It just wasn’t going to work, and he couldn’t see it.

Lyric took a deep breath and pushed herself up from the table. She didn’t look toward Blythe, Seychelle and Anya because she didn’t want to put them in danger. She knew Headed for Hell members, if there were any watching, would identify her. But they weren’t supposed to be able to so easily identify the other women.

She walked to the door with complete confidence, the confidence Lyric the stylist displayed out in public. Just as she reached for the door handle, another hand got there before hers. She looked up and immediately recognized Destroyer. How had he gotten inside and she hadn’t noticed?

“Not happening, Lyric. Keys wants you safe inside. You stay put.”

Destroyer had a gravelly voice, rough and deep and very scary. Everything about him was scary. She’d always noticed him when he was with Keys; it was impossible not to notice him, but he rarely spoke. He just looked intimidating.

She squared her shoulders. “I was just going to go outside for some fresh air.” She kept her tone light and friendly. Not in the least defiant. Not at all the way she felt. She did have a penchant for violence when others told her what to do. She wouldn’t mind kicking him in the shins and sprinting past him, another childish reaction she’d learned not to do.

“Said it once already.”

“So, prisoner, then,” she said and turned away from him, walking to the other side of the shop, away from the customers on the side where food and drink were served. She didn’t look back. What was the point? But she was shaking, and she couldn’t hide that fact. She didn’t want to chance anyone seeing, especially the three women she’d come here to get to know.

As she wandered around the shop filled with lotions, soaps and oils, she realized this side of the building smelled different from the tea side, something that was impossible. It was one space with no wall dividing the two sides, so whatever scents were filling the air on the tea side should naturally be on the shop side as well.

There were three small bins with three different bath bombs in the compartment on one of the tables. She couldn’t help but lean over to smell the middle one. The fragrance called to her.

“That’s my favorite scent,” a soft, musical voice said from behind her. “Apple, sage, jasmine and sandalwood.”

Lyric nearly jumped out of her skin, straightening and spinning around. To her astonishment, Hannah, the owner of the store, stood behind her. There had been no sound to warn Lyric that she was close. Hannah seemed to float among her customers, talking and laughing with each group and moving between the two shops, yet she didn’t seem to take up space.

Hannah was a beautiful woman. Tall and curvy with gorgeous blue eyes and very curly blond hair. Up close, Lyric could see faint white scars on her face, but they were so faded that one just noticed her creamy skin. She wasn’t wearing makeup, or if she was, it was incredibly subtle.

“I sometimes feel like a mad chemist when I’m developing new products.”

Hannah smiled at her, open, friendly, but Lyric recognized the mask. Maybe everyone wore a mask when they had to deal with strangers.

“I’m Hannah Harrington,” Hannah continued.

“Lyric Johansen,” Lyric responded. It was impossible to be in Hannah’s presence and not recognize her power. It flowed from her, a subtle feeling at first, but Lyric’s warning system responded. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She felt the impact of that influence and knew this woman wielded tremendous power, yet someone had come very close to killing her.

“What’s wrong with the world?” she murmured aloud before she could stop herself. “I don’t understand anything in it.”

“I’ve often wondered that myself, Lyric,” Hannah said. “Do you have a minute to visit?”

Lyric glanced toward the closed door to the back room. She had no idea how long she had, but it would be nice to follow someone’s direction. “Sure. I’m just…waiting.” There was a note of reluctance in her voice she couldn’t help. Keys would emerge, and in his presence, she knew she would lose her resolve to run. Around him, she didn’t seem to have self-preservation.