Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(91)

Hands lifted in a placating gesture, Eric backed down. “Fine. Just know the offer’s not going to stand forever.”

“Real broken up about it,” Lyrik mumbled as he pushed around him, and I struggled to keep up as he dragged me out the entry and back down the dingy hall. Anger radiated from him.

And I didn’t quite get it. Why an offer would make him so upset. Sure, the guy was obviously a dick. But it wasn’t as if he had to accept it.

I was almost surprised Lyrik didn’t punch the poor scrawny kid who suddenly stepped out in front of him at the end of the hall. Like a target directly in Lyrik’s warpath.

“Lyrik West. Would it be okay if I asked you a couple questions?”

Lyrik just grumbled something about *s beneath his breath, and I gave his hand a small tug. This guy seemed so much better than the paparazzi that had descended on us when we’d stepped from the Escalade when we first pulled up to the theater this afternoon, a swarm of them firing question after question. All of which had been ignored.

“It’s fine,” I encouraged him, and Lyrik sighed, raked a hand through his unruly hair, agitation still vibrating through his bones.

“Make it fast.”

The guy gave a timid, but grateful smile as he scrambled to pull out one of those old-fashioned notepads. “Thanks so much for answering my questions. Umm…”

Nervously, he scratched the side of his head. “We know the next Sunder album is slated for release this winter. Word is, Sebastian Stone’s new wife, Shea Stone, aka Delaney Rhoads, will be a part of that album. Can you confirm or deny?”

“No secret they’ve written some music together.”

“Um…okay…and will she be joining Sunder on tour?”

Lyrik huffed. “Doubtful. She’s got a family. And the road and family don’t exactly mix.”

His tone was bitter. I stood at his side, trying to make sense of where all the hostility was coming from, all the while trying to tamp down the frisson of panic that threatened when the reporter’s attention kept flicking toward me.

Brows drawn, he inclined his head, assessing. “You look really familiar.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’d been too wrapped up in Lyrik’s proposal that I’d never even considered someone might recognize me.

Slowly I shook my head and took a step back. That disquiet I’d felt in front of Eric Banik doubled. But I hadn’t perfected my mask for nothing. I forced a brilliant smile, all sex and distraction, pushed out an easy laugh. “Nope…I’m nobody. I’m sure you’ve never seen me before.”

He gave a slow nod and turned back to Lyrik. “We’ve also heard the next album will showcase a few more songs in the style of Sunday Gone, your voice as the lead. Is that any indication that Sebastian Stone may be taking a step back from the band?”

Lyrik seemed to itch, antsy on his feet. “Band’s in a transition period right now. Don’t have all the answers. But I can assure you we’ll be making music together. Nothing is gonna change that.”

He scribbled something on his notepad, but I could feel the flicker of his eyes as they peeked at me from the side. The curiosity that wouldn’t let him go. The awareness.

Almost in frustration, he turned his full attention on me. “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

Shaking my head again, I took another step back, slinking behind Lyrik, hating the way I wished his shadows would swallow me up and take me to a place where I could disappear.

Hide.

Hide. Hide. Hide.

I was so damned tired of hiding. Of running from everything that scared me, but I didn’t know how to handle this when I’d been running for so long. I didn’t know how to bear the brunt of it. How to stand up under the sudden recognition that lit on his face.

I was peeking out from behind Lyrik when the reporter suddenly shook his index finger my direction, the smile on this guy’s face making it clear he had no idea he’d knocked me from the precarious foundation I’d created.

Where I’d balanced on unstable ground.

Knowing one day, one side would eventually give out.

“Yeah…yeah…you’re that girl. Tamar Gibson. Madeline Shields…she was from here…L.A. That whole thing is about to go to trial in Arizona, right? Saw something about it come across the feed last week.”

He frowned as the full story seemed to dawn, sudden confusion setting in. “Are they still looking for you?”

And that was it.

The bottom finally crumbled out from under me.

Darkness pressed in as a horror of memories came crashing through my mind.

Madeline Shields.

Pain lanced through my being like the cut of a rusted, dulled blade.

Paralyzing.

My legs wobbled as my heart and knees went weak.

All functions gone.

“Blue.” Lyrik was suddenly there. Holding me up.

Protectively, he wound his arm around my waist, let me bury my face in his chest. “Think that’ll be enough questions for tonight.”

He began to guide me through the shadows and voices and bodies. He brought his free hand up to my cheek, pressing me closer, covering the part of my face still exposed.

Blocking.

Shielding and sheltering.

Lyrik squeezed me tighter, his voice an echo on the fringes of the world I’d disappeared to. “It’s okay, baby. Ten more feet. Just need to make it out this door. I’ve got you. Not gonna let you go. I’ve got you.”