I knew that Quinn wanted to chit chat most of the flight to Paris, but all I wanted to do was sleep. Veg out in my posh first class seat and listen to The Avett Brothers and dwell on the all the screwed up shit that has taken place over the past twenty four hours. How could someone I thought was an absolutely genuine person turn into such a piece of trash? Just goes to show I am a shitty judge of character. I’ve always found myself oblivious to the deceit of others; it’s just a bad goddamn habit.

I am no better than him though, in fact, I am so much worse. I guess when all is said and done neither of us were ready for whatever it was we were trying to rush into. I don’t get why he would be in such a hurry when he really didn’t want me. The captain comes over the intercom informing everyone that we will begin our final descent and to fasten our seat belts once again. Damn him for making me actually put my seat upright. Can’t he land with me lying down? I let out a sigh.

“You finally gonna talk?” Quinn asks me, trying not to push but still being a completely nosey best friend. Her short red pixie cut fits her fiery personality to a tee. I’ve always admired her bold choices in fashion and hair, and no matter what she always pulls it off somehow.

“You’ve been quiet the entire flight, which isn’t like you at all so I know something is going on. You can tell me, or I can totally annoy it out of you. Choice is yours.” She pulls her sunglasses out of her bag and situates them on top of her head.

“I know. I just needed this flight to think. My mind is on overdrive and I hate it.” I want to purge everything but there is so much that I am going to have to leave out. Mainly my obsession with a certain tattooed bad boy biker who has been taking up far too much space in my head. I’m just not in a place where I can deal with a man. Let alone that man. I could deal with a couple one night stands, but nothing more. Everything I had with Pierce taught me that. I’m young, and my career is booming. I should just focus on that. These dudes aren’t loyal!

“Start with the missing ring.” Quinn points at the empty ring finger on my left hand. The missing ring I threw across the bathroom in a fit of rage. Visions of him and her, those tits staring me in the face while she pretended to try and cover up fill my mind and I want to puke. The whole thing was a big bullshit scam. He played me like a damn fool!

“I broke it off with Pierce. Well, I decided I didn’t want to get married so I went to his place to break it off and he had some bimbo naked in the bathroom.” I shrug my shoulders like it doesn’t make a difference to me. I think what bothered me most was the other woman or maybe how easily he let me go. Like it didn’t matter to him that everything was over. Or maybe he was in shock since he was finally caught. Whatever. I’m not going to spend any more time thinkin’ about it.

“That son of a bitch. I knew there was something I never liked about him!” Quinn spouts off. It’s hysterical to watch her get all fired up. Her skin gets a tint of red to it and the light behind her green eyes glows like she is about to turn into the Hulk himself.

“It’s not a big deal. It wasn’t meant to be, I’m not all that innocent myself.” The words come out of my mouth before my mind can catch up and stop them. I’m really good at putting my foot in my mouth sometimes. Especially around people I’m comfortable with. The filter just… disappears!

“Don’t beat yourself up, Lyric. You didn’t do anything wrong. To be honest, I never really liked him anyway. He wasn’t your type. You need a real man, not one of those guys who like manicures and wears suits that cost more than your Prada pumps.” I burst out laughing, louder than I should have on a plane and several people turn in my direction and give me a nasty look.

Jesus, it’s first class, not a damn funeral!

Another reason I will never fit in with high society.

* * *

Paris turns out to be everything I have ever hoped it could be, and then some. Quinn and I have spent days shopping, and exploring all the sights we could fit in between the busy schedule I have in place. The rich history within the walls of The Louvre, the dramatic architecture of Notre Dame Cathedral, being able to physically touch the stone of the Arc de Triomphe- it was all overwhelming, but what rendered me completely speechless was Pere Lachaise Cemetery and seeing the final resting place of Jim Morrison from The Doors. Maybe I am just a sucker for good architecture and history but I could stay in Paris for the rest of my life and be perfectly content. Seven would never let that happen, and her repeated text messages were evidence of that. And as much as I love Paris, I can’t stop thinking about what’s going on back home in New York.

“Beautiful women like yourselves shouldn’t be alone on an evening like this.” A thick French accent croons from behind Quinn and I as we sit at the bar inside a small smoky tavern. My red-headed partner in crime giggles, like one of those tweens with a crush on a celebrity. Since we got here, I’ve been on a mission to have fun and not think about my mess of a life back in New York, as hard as that has become. I’ve drank more than I should and eaten whatever I’ve wanted, gym be damned.

“It just so happens that my lovely friend here recently went through a pretty nasty break up. I am sure she could use some good company,” Quinn says without looking at me. Only staring into the deep green eyes of the young man who approached us, and finishing her comment with a wink.

“Sounds like it could be my lucky day.” He smiles at me, and I politely smile back. Typically, I would be drawn to someone like him. His dark black hair is neatly combed to the side, his grey band t-shirt hugs his built chest and one of his arms is completely covered in ink. I shouldn’t, but the moment I see the artwork I think of Ryker. The one person I’ve gone out of my way to erase from my mind. But his dark hair reminds me of Pierce and any interest is immediately lost. I’m not ready to complicate my life with another man. Whether he lives thousands of miles away or not. It’s all more than I can think about handling.

“I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not interested.” I smile again, looking him in the eye. Quinn elbows me in the side, and I start choking on the sip of wine in my mouth.

“You really are a bitch, you know that?” I mumble to her as I do my best to ignore the suitor still standing behind us. Of course Quinn is pissed off, but I can’t bring myself to get over all of this. It’s too fresh. This one is going to take a while for me to really get over. Hell, I’m pretty sure Pierce was my rebound guy after James anyway. Nothing like jumping from dude to dude to say I have low self-esteem and shit.

“I’m only trying to help you get out of this funk. What happened to my Lyric who let her hair down and had a good time? I thought we were gonna party it up in Paris? All you want to do is go to corny museums and shit. Come on. Live a little!” I remember the shit we used to get into back in college.

“Y’all are sisters?” His thick southern drawl makes my panties wet. He isn’t bad on the eyes either. Maybe his blond hair is a little too shaggy for me, but those baby blue eyes are more than enough to get me naked any night of the week.

“Yeah, why? Whatcha got in mind?” Quinn asks the unsuspecting frat boy.

“Y’all down to fuck?” He licks his bottom lip as his eyes pass between the two of us.

“Which one of us do you want tonight, cowboy?” I ask him, hoping he picks me. I’m not desperate or anything, but he strikes me as one of the very few boys at this school who would be fun to take for a ride.

“I gotta pick? I wanted both of you …” Quinn’s eyes drift to mine and she winks.

“Okay. I think we can work something out,” I tell him.

I turn and walk for the closest empty bedroom within the loud house. The last frat party of the year and we almost skipped out on it. And missed this? Shit. Looking over my shoulder I see Quinn following me with Cowboy wrapped around her slim waist. He is hanging off every word she is saying. It is funny to watch as an outsider. I should have just passed him off on her, but clearly he was up for a far wilder ride tonight.

I open the door to the first bedroom and find a plethora of naked bodies all around the room. Everyone is touching someone. Some are fucking. Some are sucking dick or licking pussy. I pause and take it all in. I’ve watched porn for years; orgies have always gotten me excited. Fuck, I’ve masturbated to orgies more times than I can count. But seeing it in real life, with people you’ve actually seen before and spoken to is something totally different.

Quinn comes up behind me and whispers in my ear, “You wanna join in on this instead?” Her breath causes goosebumps on my skin and I try and rationally question what to do. The beer I’ve been drinking all night completely takes away any sense I have left.

“You down, Cowboy?” I pull my shirt over my head and walk towards an unoccupied corner of the room. “Or are you gonna leave us alone?” I extend my arm for Quinn to join me.

“Remember Cowboy?” I laugh at the memory of the way we defiled that boy. Looking over my shoulder at the guy trying to pick me up in Paris has me half tempted to make this a repeat performance. If my head wasn’t all over the place, I’d be all over it. I can’t get that tattooed fucker out of my head no matter how hard I try. What is even worse is the fact that he has left me two voicemails since I have been in Paris trying to avoid him like the plague. Even thousands of miles away he is as much of a thorn in my ass as he is when he lives a mile away.

I purposely haven’t listened to either voicemail. I don’t want to hear his voice when I am this far away. I don’t want to crave his touch when I know it’s going to be so long before I can run back to him and beg for attention again. Why do I always want the guys who are all wrong for me?

“Now that is a night I’ll never forget,” Quinn laughs, and nods at the unsuspecting victim that was just hitting on me. I shake my head no.

“Sorry, love. I have a work thing early,” I say to the man.

“But this is my friend Quinn.” I wink at her and throw a couple bills down on the counter.

“Have fun,” I say to her as I make my way to the exit. I button up my black peacoat and wrap my pink scarf around my neck. The Paris evenings are chilly, just like Manhattan this time of the year. The smell of bakeries working through the night for their morning clients is strong in this district. I smile at the thought of living here forever. I could easily adjust. The people, the culture, and god, the clothes. They are to die for. The food, on the other hand, is something I could totally leave. Except the bread and pastries.

Damn, I’m hungry. My stomach growls and I laugh as I wave down a cab. Maybe I will have a date with room service when I get back to my room at La Tremoille. My phone buzzes in my pocket, reminding me of the last voicemail Ryker left me. I should have left my cell behind but I use it far too much for work to be without it for a week. A week that is almost over, then it is back to the fucked up reality I’ve been living in. How could I let my life get this bad?

Pierce hasn’t so much as sent a text message. Not a single word from him after the beautiful sight I found mere hours before I left. I pull my phone out and think about the time difference. If it is midnight here in Paris, it is still pretty early in New York. I start to type out a text message to my sister Seven.

How is everything at home?

Home is a loose term for anyplace I’ve ever lived. I’ve never really had a place I consider a real home. I’ve lived in a couple different places but dozens of houses and apartments. Staying in one place until the landlord upped the rent and my mom couldn’t afford it anymore. Or until she couldn’t afford to live there and we ended up in a shelter until we could afford to find a new apartment. It wasn’t a bad upbringing, and my mom did the best she could given her circumstances. Single motherhood isn’t something I’d wish on anyone.

I admired my mother for her strength all those years. Now, I send her money every chance I get. There is no need for her to work so hard as a waitress or a secretary. Whatever she is doing for the week when magazines are begging to fly me all over the world to cover fashion related news. It’s my time to give back to her the only way I know how, with money.

My phone buzzes with a reply from my sister.

Shit hit the fan. Chrome is in the hospital. The boys are on the run.

When you are back I will fill you in on more shit. Pierce is up my ass what happened before you left?

Up her ass? Not as much as a text message to me but up my step-sister’s ass? Somethin’ ain’t right with that. Why wouldn’t he have told her that I called everything off? What is he trying to hide? My mind flies into a million scenarios, all of which end in certain death. Okay, so maybe I’m a tad over-dramatic, but the whole thing fucking stinks to high heaven.

Two more days. If anything happens in the meantime, text me.

My stomach flip-flops, the expensive wine not sitting well at all with the news of the chaos back home. Chrome is in the hospital, and that alone sends me into a tailspin. Is he going to be okay? How can I help from a million miles away? I can only wonder how his wife Star is handling it all. And their kids. My god! Why would these guys get involved in such dangerous shit when there are so many risks that go along with it? I can’t imagine the pain they all must be in.

I want to clue her in on Pierce before he causes any damage. I just don’t want to throw him completely under the bus because my sister is his damn boss. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him from the start because of that. But she was dead set on playing matchmaker. I should have never gone along with any of it. Shit just gets messy when work is involved.

Went to Pierce’s to call off the wedding. He was with another woman.

It’s over. What has he said?

I hate pinning this all on him, because at the end of the day I am probably more at fault than he is. My infidelity was masked, at least I thought so. I wonder if Seven knows about it now. I’m sure the rumor mill was churning before the chaos started.

He is on damage control. He is still planning the wedding, Lyric.

What the fuck? Why would he still be planning the wedding? I’m too nice to deal with him, and that is my problem. I’ve always let everyone in my life walk all over me. I’ve never had my own voice or stood up for myself, even now with Seven as a big sister. She is a badass with a take no prisoners attitude. I wouldn’t cross her, that is for damn sure.

Wedding is off. I don’t get what he is doing. What do I do?

It is an honest question. I don’t know how to handle him or the situation. I thought I was pretty clear when I called off the wedding while Secretary Barbie was on her knees in his bathroom. I guess I am just too young and naive for New York City life altogether. Maybe it is time I pack up my toys and go back upstate for good.

I’ll handle it. Rock that show tomorrow and get your ass back here.

Don’t worry about Pierce or any of the guys. Everything will be good

when you get back.

Another mess she has to clean up on my behalf.

She’s becoming more of a babysitter for me than the big sister I should be bonding with.

* * *

Two days later our plane touches down at JFK International airport. Quinn mulls over my offer to stay in Manhattan or head back to the Albany area where she has been staying since we graduated college.

“How about you just stay for a week and see if you like it here? No need to make any big decisions right now.” I shrug and pick up my luggage off the carousel of bags. “It’s not like you have anything going on up there. You could use your degree down here way more than you can up there.” I try and make a good point. I want her to stay because I don’t have anyone here that is one of my friends. Everyone was a package deal with my new found step-sister and her family. It would be nice to have someone else to confide in.

“One week,” Quinn agrees while she grabs her bags. I thought I had brought a lot with us on our trip.

“Plus, I wanted to try out some of the men around these parts.” Quinn looks around and smiles while she eyes a couple of the guys waiting for their luggage as well. I should have known better, I laugh to myself. Good for her, going for what she wants in life. God, I wish I had half the balls she does sometimes.

Sitting in the back of our cab, I start listening to the laundry list of voicemails left on my cell. I didn’t want to check them when I was still in Paris, the charges are insane and if it was important enough they would have e-mailed or texted me. At least that is what my voicemail message says.

The first message is from my mom making sure I got to Paris safely. Next are a couple about upcoming work. Then I hear his voice. Goosebumps spread across my skin as I hear his muffled words, a loud motorcycle engine in the background. Chaos and screams muffle the words but I can make out every word he says clearly.

“If I never get the chance to tell you this, I love you, Lyric.” Then the line goes dead. Fear courses through my veins at the worry in his voice. His shaking confession. Why? Why would he call me and leave that on my voicemail? All of the blood drains out of my face and I start to feel sick. My balance shifts and the backseat of the cab starts to spin. Taking a deep breath I close my eyes and try to come back down to reality.

I save his message and go on to the next. A couple more work messages, and then a second from Ryker catches my attention. Why can’t he text me, goddamn it?!

“I gotta skip town for a while, Lyric. I’m sorry I won’t be ‘round when you get back. I’m sorry for everything.” No explanation, just a vague message and no promise of a return. I feel sick to my stomach even more thinking about him never coming back to me. I know he won’t be gone forever; none of those guys ever stay away. But, this. This is just different. Something is wrong. Something is fucked up.

I need to get to the penthouse and to Seven and find out what happened while I was gone. I knew I should have never gotten on that plane to Paris. I should have stayed in New York and put my life back together. I should have never left it burning while I left the damn country.

I disconnect the call from my voicemail and dial Ryker’s cell number. The call connects and goes straight to voicemail. Never ringing and my anxiety increases. I frantically dial Star’s number and pray she will answer. I know she has been sitting at her husband’s bedside since he got hurt. I hate being in the dark about everything that is going on. I hate not knowing exactly what happened, not that club business is any of my business.

“Lyric,” Star’s voice whispers into the line.

“What is going on, Star? Is Chrome okay?” I try to push away my emotions, but the tears pool in my eyes anyway.

“Chrome is going to be okay. But he’s got a long road.” I can hear the overwhelming emotion in her words.

“What about Ryker?” I shouldn’t bring him up when I know she is in such a bad place but I have no one else to ask. No one else who will know. Hell, Star may not even know because Chrome is her only line of information when it comes to the club life and he obviously isn’t talking right now. Shit!

“The boys hit the road. Ryker, Vegas, Judge, Ace, and Lucky, and Gunnar are all gone.”

“Gone?” I don’t even know what to ask.

“They hit the road for a while. Gonna catch up with a couple Hell’s Renegades chapters out West until shit calms down out here.”

“Star, what the fuck happened?” My voice becomes more desperate.

“Not over the phone,” she says.

“Tonight, okay?”

“Yeah.” I never thought about the fact that someone could be listening in over the phone. It just goes to show how naive I am about their entire lifestyle. Is it something that I could ever get comfortable with?

It drives me crazy not knowing what the hell is going on.

The cab comes to a screeching halt in front of my building, and the lard ass doesn’t even help us grab our luggage. What a dick. No tip for you.

“Welcome home, Lyric.” the doorman sings with a wide smile on his face.

“It’s nice to be home.” I return his smile.

Did I just call this place home?

I guess at the end of the day, it is the closest thing I have ever come to having a home. The penthouse is mine. My sister generously gifted it to me when I agreed to move back to the city with her and her family. I finally had a sister, and I wasn’t about to lose her by staying a hundred miles away from her and her beautiful little girls. Those kids are the light of my life. They make me smile no matter what is going on.

“This is pretty fuckin’ pimp.” Quinn’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I completely forgot she was with me for a minute.

“Welcome to my home. Wait ‘til you see your room.” I force a smile in between my absolutely nightmarish thoughts about Ryker and what is happening to him, wherever he is.