Stealing myself, I walked out my apartment door onto the landing. My head was held high, that old sneer reinstated on my mouth, my lips painted the deepest red. I figured I should always be prepared for what I might stumble upon out here. Because I refused to ever again be caught unaware.

Late afternoon light glinted in my eyes. My body slammed into the hard wall of humidity.

It made it difficult to draw in a full breath.

I shook my head to clear it. Or maybe the motion was done as an admonishment. As a silent command screaming out for me to get my shit together.

I knew I was nothing but a liar if I blamed this feeling on the weather.

As if I didn’t know why it felt like there were a thousand bricks piled on my chest. As if they kept raining down from above, pelting and crushing and destroying.

I hated I’d been such a fool to give him the power to make me feel this way.

I knew better.

I knew better.

I knew better.

But it didn’t matter how many times I chanted it beneath my breath. Every single one of those feelings remained. The gain and the loss. The renewed confidence he’d given me up against what he’d so easily torn away.

It seemed cruel he was the reason for the first true life I’d felt in years. Glimmers of it were still there, trying to work their way out, the desperate urge to get back some semblance of who I used to be. To go home and be brave. Though all of that was eclipsed by the hurt balled up like a fist at the base of my throat.

It was an old pain whispering its venom.

How could you be so stupid? So careless? How could you have let yourself be used so easily? Taken and tossed out like the morning’s trash.

Dirty.

Breaths squeezed in and out of my too-tight lungs as I stood mere feet from his apartment. So close yet there couldn’t have been a greater distance between us.

The overabundance of thoughts and worries and hopes swirled around me like a cyclone. I wasn’t sure I had the strength left to stand up under the bitter jumble of emotions.

Pulled toward home while this beautiful man pushed me away.

God, this piercing ache never dissipated. Never dimmed or dulled.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the unwavering sorrow that chased me through the days and stalked me through the nights.

But standing here ignited a rage of fury and hurt and betrayal so intense my head spun and my heart felt as if it literally might fail. Stutter and bleed out and usher in the end.

My bottom lip trembled as my ear tuned into the heavy metal music blasting from the confines of the old brick walls I knew kept him hidden. The curtains were closed. Exactly the way they’d been for the last two weeks.

I struggled for control, silently screaming the mantra with a hand fisted at my side. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

But the crazy awareness wouldn’t let me go. Dread slid down my spine like the freezing slick of ice. Shaking, my gaze jumped to the stack of moving boxes sitting to the left of his door.

Lyrik West was scratched in Sharpie on the sides.

The sight of them nearly brought everything crashing down. Reality striking home.

Two months.

He couldn’t even give me that. And I’d allowed myself to be naïve enough to dream of so much more. That our moments had meant something. Because to me, they’d come to mean everything.

I wobbled on my five-inch heels, and my hand darted out to the wall to keep myself from sinking to the ground. I sucked for nonexistent air. It took everything to keep from falling to my knees.

But I didn’t.

Because Tamar King would always stand.

* * *

Voices shouted in an attempt to be heard over the country band playing onstage. People laughed and shouted. A crush of bodies vied for a spot close to the gleaming wood of the ornate, carved bar, as if touching it gave the promise of a good time.

Typical of a summer Friday night, Charlie’s was packed.

I couldn’t help but be grateful for the distraction. I hustled behind the bar because I was damn good at my job.

So maybe it hadn’t been my lifelong dream. Maybe it didn’t fill me with hope and awe and the quest for things that could never be.

But it was safe. Void of all the silly, absurd notions Lyrik had incited.

Better to stamp them out now than to have them destroy me in the end.

“How are you holding up, sugar?” Charlie’s voice struck me from behind. Softer than normal. As if he needed to approach me with caution and not all the ease he had before Lyrik had messed up the security I’d established in this life.

I really hated that, too.

I glanced at my old friend. At the piece of family I’d found here. The flare of unease trembling my insides warned I was soon to lose this false sanctuary, too.

A coy smile spread across my face. Forced. Fake. “Holding up just fine, old man. How about you? Looks like Nathan could use some help rather than you standing looking over my shoulder like you have nothing better to do.”

I shot it at him like a teasing taunt, a single eyebrow arching right along with the arch of my upper lip.

A smile flickered beneath his scraggly beard, though his brown eyes remained soft. “Well…I guess since you’ve got it all under control, I’d better make myself busy.”

Under control.

Right.

“You sure you don’t need anything?” he added.

I shooed him. “Go on…I’ve got it handled. The last thing I need is you slowing me down. You know I live for the hustle.”

Backing away, he held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. Message received. Tamar is just fine…all on her own.”

I scowled in his direction. I knew what he was doing. What he was implying. The way his tone went fatherly and his words filled with concern.

“Yep. I’m perfectly fine. On my own,” I emphasized.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, sugar. Just know you aren’t foolin’ anyone but yourself. But I’d bet you aren’t even managing that.”

Charlie gave me a pointed stare before he turned and headed over to check on Nathan, and I forced my attention back on my job.

And I did just that.

Tried to pretend everything was fine.

To pretend I wasn’t falling apart.

Rending.

Splitting.

Crumbling.

Tried to pretend I didn’t have the sensation of being fractured in two.

Sophie, one of the weekend waitresses, set her tray down on the bar and leaned over it.

“How’s that order coming?” she asked. “Table nineteen is about to lose their shit.” She sighed dramatically. “Sometimes I wish the frat boys wouldn’t come out to play.”

It seemed a miracle, but low laughter rolled from my tongue. I gave her an amused shake of my head. “You and me both. Just give me…two…seconds…” I drew out as I finished pouring tequila across three shot glasses.

I slid the drinks to her. “There you go, gorgeous. Don’t let those boys get to you. Not any of them are worth it.”

None of them. Not for a second.

“Thank you.” She situated them on her tray, shot me a smile, calling over her shoulder as she walked away, “Wish me luck.”

“Good lu—” The words locked in my throat when the front doors swung open, which they’d been doing all night. But this time…this time they stopped me in my tracks.

Awareness spread.

Tension wound.

Tighter and harder and faster.

Gaining speed as it barreled forward like a speeding train.

Malicious and dark and foreboding.

My heart stalled before it took off at a sprint. Wild and offbeat.

Ash strode in like he owned the place, his dimpled grin and hungry gaze taking in the churning mayhem dancing within the old walls. It was clear he was all too keen to add to it.

Two steps behind was Zee.

But it was the boy who followed them who might as well have stood out in front.

Eclipsing all.

Like shattering, splintering light.

That sinister man rode in on all his raving intensity. His body was rigid, as if that wild energy was condensed and compounded. Gathering to a pinpoint.

Set to fire.

Cutting down anyone and anything in its path like the devastating shockwave of an atom bomb.

The buzz before the strike.

But this time, the strike just might prove fatal.

How sick was it I still wanted him? That after seeing that photo and hearing his words, I still clung to the moments we’d shared as if they’d somehow counted. When he’d laid them all to waste.

Two weeks. Two weeks of silence. Silence in the shape of loud, thrashing, violent music through the walls. After all we’d shared physically, emotionally, he’d simply let go. Let me go. Not a word. Not an explanation. As if he owed me nothing.

Why did I always want the things that would harm me most?

Furtively, I cut my eyes his way, hoping he wouldn’t notice but needing one last image to keep for when he was gone.

Memorizing.

It wasn’t so hard. There was no chance I could forget. Tonight he wore a tight white V-neck tee. The tattoos I’d come to know so well vibrated beneath bunched muscle, as if every fiber of him seethed with his own anger.

Emotion burned behind my traitorous eyes, and just as fast as I’d looked, I turned my back before he could catch the anguish I was certain painted every inch of my expression.

For the second time that day, my hands shot forward to keep myself standing, my body jerking as I clutched the edge of the bar and tried to prepare myself to again come face to face with Lyrik West. I tried to find safety behind the walls I had built. To gain solid ground. To fortify and protect.

Never again would I allow him to control me.

With my head dropped, my lips moved soundlessly, as if I were sending up a silent prayer. Reaching for a buoy. A petition to find truth in the words that would allow me to remain afloat.

You are strong. You are nobody’s slave. He only has power and effect if you give it to him. And you won’t let him have it.

Blowing out a breath, I donned that stoic, lofty mask, lifted my chin, and went back to work. The whole time I pretended as if I wasn’t painfully aware of him standing there in the haze of light suspended above him. As if I didn’t feel the heat of his unfaltering gaze searing into me.

Stark, disbelieving laughter shook my throbbing chest. For a fleeting second, my armor dropped, leaving me vulnerable to his sharp stare.

Why now? Why after two weeks would he show his face when I’d caught nothing more than a glimpse of the back of his head in all that time? It had been as if he’d calculated his every move, ensuring he’d evaded, avoided, and eluded any sight of me.

So easily forgotten.

Dirty.

I could feel the break in the air, the shift, and I knew he’d followed Ash and Zee over to the secluded booth where they liked to hide out. Away from prying eyes and their rock-star fame. Although truthfully, they really didn’t seem to have that many issues around here. Most of the locals’ tastes slanted country, and they came to the bar in droves on the nights the more popular country bands played.

But that didn’t mean the guys didn’t garner attention on their appearance alone.

Girls out looking for a good time couldn’t resist these boys who looked so bad.

Trouble and disorder and a mind-blowing good time.

Pain stabbed at my stomach as I pictured Lyrik leaving here with one of them. Or more likely, with two. That always seemed to be his style. Images of the side of the boy I really didn’t know flashed through my mind, the lusty gleam in his sinful eyes as he was draped in all-too willing women.

I couldn’t shake the fear he was out for one last hurrah in the tiny city of Savannah before he left it all behind.

Before he left me behind.

He’d promised he would.

But I’d never imagined it’d be on these terms.

“Hey, Tamar.” Sophie broke into my tortured thoughts when she called to me from the other side of the bar. She craned her head back in the direction of the isolated booth. “Your friends are here.”

As if I hadn’t noticed.

“The cute blond one is insisting you take care of them. He said something about it being an emergency. Of course he did it with a smile on his face, so I’m not so sure what could be so urgent, but I figured you wouldn’t mind all that much considering you normally go running that direction the second they step through the door.”

Running?

Had it really been that way in those weeks when things were so easy between Lyrik and me? Had I really gone to him so readily?

Just another ignorant lamb willingly led off to the slaughter.

God, I was stupid.

No more.

Strutting across to the boundless array of liquor lined up on the back bar, I grabbed a bottle of vodka. I barely glanced over my shoulder to respond. “Well, I do mind.”

She hiked both her shoulders to her ears and began to back away. “Sorry…too late…I told him you’d be happy to.”

“Well, then go tell them I’m not happy to.”

Nervously, she shuffled on her feet and bit at her bottom lip, so transparent and full of guilt. “The blond one kinda sorta invited me back to his place after work tonight if I delivered the message.”

Exasperated and fighting the rumbles of fear, I rubbed at my forehead.

She had to be kidding me.

I turned back to her. “Thank you for throwing me under the bus. And in case you wanted to know, the cute blond one is Ash.”

There was no missing the bite to my words. But come on. Selling me out for a night with a rock star? Not cool.

She gave me a pleading look. “I’m sorry, Tamar. Really. But he was so insistent.”

I guess I had to give her a break. She’d only been working here for a month. And even I knew those dimples were deadly. The guy could probably talk a vegetarian into joining the steak of the month club.

I heaved out a breath. “Fine. I’ll take care of them.”

An apology crinkled her brow. “Thank you. And for the record, I thought I was doing you a favor.”

I scowled. “Please don’t do me any more of them.”

So maybe I was being a bitch. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help the way agitation churned in my gut and skimmed across my skin, bristling against the raw, potent energy already saturating the thick air.

Stealing myself, I strode to the end of the bar and slipped out into the main room, strutting across the wooden floorboards on my super-high heels. The vibration sent a rush of shivers up the backs of my legs, like a steady boom, boom, boom pulsing through my body.

The sound only increased the closer I got, that energy going wild as my heart hammered and my stomach both lifted and fell.

Those foolish childhood butterflies decided it was the perfect time to take flight when Lyrik’s steely gaze landed on me.

Those sinful eyes seemed to flicker between lust and regret. The spark of need in the flare of his nose and the distress in the pinch of his brow. As if it hurt to look at me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This was not okay.

I refused to fall prey to it again.

I knew his games.

Cruel and unjust.

I plastered the old sneer on my face. Tonight, it wasn’t so hard to find. Because the truth of it? I was still hurt and angered by his callous words. Betrayed in the way he’d cast me aside. In the way he’d let me walk out his door when really he’d been the one pushing me out it.

What I’d done was wrong. I knew that. I knew I shouldn’t have snooped. I shouldn’t have let the compulsion to know him, to get closer to him—to understand his reservations and sorrow—cloud the respect I had for him. I shouldn’t have demanded answers he didn’t want to give. Especially when my own jealousy had been the driving force.

But just as strongly, he should have respected me.

Asked me to put it down.

To let it go.

Instead, he’d gone straight for the jugular.

Slicing and cutting me with those deplorable words.

That sneer turned into a perfect, sexy smirk, and I jutted out my hip. “Welcome to Charlie’s. What brings y’all in tonight?”

I played it off as if I didn’t recognize them at all—as if unaffected—while it seemed I was the only thing Lyrik could see.

So maybe a part of me took a little too much pleasure in the way his stare turned greedy.

You threw me away.

Maybe it was wrong I was thanking my stars I’d dressed the way I’d done tonight.

Maybe he’d feel a taste of the hurt he’d left me wallowing in. A taste of that hollow ache amplified by his presence.

But the better part of me—the part he’d resurrected—wanted to touch his cheek, to feel the thready beat of his heart, to tell him I’d take away some of his pain if he promised to take away mine.

If he’d just let me in.

But that was the fool talking.

Ash fumbled out an awkward laugh. “Ahhh…Tam Tam…don’t go breaking my heart by pretending you aren’t happy to see me. I know you have to have been missing me, because there’s no chance these walls are the same without a little Ash. I figured before we packed it up and left for L.A. tomorrow, we’d better get over here and sprinkle a little rock ‘n’ roll flavor on the place before we have to go.”

The look he shot Lyrik belied the statement he made, the way Lyrik grimaced, cringed, and glanced toward the wall.

A new kind of pain cut me open at the realization Lyrik really didn’t want to be here. At the realization he’d been dragged through the doors, probably coaxed and prodded and teased by Ash until he gave in, only here to prove he really didn’t want me.

God.

Insane. Completely, utterly insane. That was me. Because I suddenly recognized the niggling hope I’d had that he’d been here for me. That he’d been here to apologize or maybe to tell me goodbye.

At least something.

I’d lost my damned mind.

Right along with my heart.

I forced myself to let my eyes jump around to all three of them, refusing to cower or flinch when it landed on Lyrik.

Red. Red. Red.

I held onto her like a lifeline.

My smirk spread, as forced as it was. “Well, since you’re here to spread a little rock ‘n’ roll cheer, and y’all know exactly how much I like my boys tattooed and screaming…” I glanced down at Lyrik as if it didn’t bother me at all. “I’ll be happy to help a man out,” I continued. “What can I get for you?”

Ash grinned and shot me a wink. “I’ll take my regular, darlin’.”

My eyes narrowed at him. He was so up to something.

Zee’s voice was quiet. “Just a Coke for me. I have to drive these assholes around.”

With that sneer firmly set in place, I looked back at Lyrik. “How about you…do you want me to whip you up something extra special?”

The words came out spiteful, though they ached in my throat like some kind of betrayal.

Ash spoke up. “I think our boy here would like a little taste of whatever it is you have to offer. Just as long as you don’t make him choke on it. He seems to be a bit out of sorts lately.”

God, Ash. As much as I liked the guy, he needed to stop.

“Sure thing,” I drawled out, making sure to give Lyrik a good sway of my hips in his face as I turned to leave.

Could anyone blame me?

I was the one pushed up against a wall. Nailed to it, really.

A flash fire of heat jetted up my arm when I felt Lyrik’s big hand wrap around my wrist.

Shackling.

Restraining.

An iron fetter I felt around my heart.

Panicked, I jerked to look back at him, my eyes wide and shocked.

I forced myself to narrow them into a glare.

Did he really have the audacity to touch me?

“What?” I spat the word as I yanked my arm free.

Reluctantly, he let me go. His mouth coiled in some sort of misery, and those obsidian eyes flashed. “Blue.”

Damn him. Playing games. Winding me up. Watching me spin and spin and spin. I wouldn’t let him do this to me again.

Defiance and my last shred of self-preservation squared my jaw. “Sorry, but I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Spinning on my heel, I was quick to seek refuge behind the bar. It had to be by some miracle I managed to keep my head held high while I filled their drinks.

I poured Lyrik the same tumbler of Jager as Ash.

He didn’t get the best of me. Not anymore. He didn’t get what was sacred and special and had only been offered to him. He didn’t get my joy or my belief or my hope.

With their drinks arranged on a tray, I headed their way. I stumbled to a stop when I saw Ash walking back to their table.

Three girls in tow.

My stomach plummeted.

No. No. No.

Why would Ash do this to me?

This I could not handle. This I could not face. A curl of jealousy twisted through me like a nasty viper. Fangs impaling my skin and sinking into my flesh. Pumping me full of poison.

Poison hurt, didn’t it?

Burned and stung as it sped through your veins, setting every cell to decay?

Sophie smiled as she passed by. I shoved the tray at her. “Here, take this to my friends. Just a warning…it looks like you might have lost your date for the night.”

Or maybe Lyrik would take all three of them home.

Shit.

If it wasn’t so late, I’d ask Shea if I could come crash at her place.

No way could I stomach stumbling into them at my apartment tonight.

Sophie’s attention darted that direction. Her face fell. “What an asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

Yeah. What an asshole. I just wasn’t entirely sure who I was talking about.

She headed that way carrying about as much spite in her swagger as I’d approached them with ten minutes ago, all the while I struggled not to look that way. Struggled not to care. Struggled to maintain who I’d been before Lyrik had first walked through Charlie’s door more than a year ago.

But I wasn’t sure I knew her anymore.

Wasn’t sure which of us was real.

Sophie delivered the drinks, paused as Ash tugged her down so he could whisper something in her ear. She was almost at a sprint when she danced back wearing a smile that couldn’t have been pried from her face.

“It’s totally still on,” she gushed, completely clueless to my torment.

“That’s great.” I barely managed to voice it without it being loaded down by sarcasm.

“He’s really cute,” she added.

“Yeah, he is,” I agreed, because I totally got Ash’s charm, although I seemed to be wholly immune to it considering Lyrik was the only one who held the power to make me feel.

“Who’s cute?”

I glanced up to find the source of the voice. A man who was nothing more than a boy rested his forearms on the bar top, leaning across it toward me. He couldn’t have been a day older than twenty-one, his collar popped, one of those preppy, pretty boys who made their way into the bar from time to time.

I frowned and he just smiled.

Cheeky and bold, he grinned wider as he cocked his head. “I was kinda hoping you were talking about me, since I couldn’t help but think the same thing about you while I was sitting way over there while you were way over here. Seemed a shame, so here I am.”

He was cute. I kind of wanted to pat him on the top of the head and send him on his way.

But when I felt Lyrik’s fierce, piercing gaze, I was suddenly leaning in the kid’s direction.

“You think I’m cute, huh?” So I guessed I was going to play his game.

The guy chuckled, his stare blatant as it dropped to my chest. I tried not to shiver in disgust.

“I could think of a few better ways to describe you,” he said. “How about later you let me whisper them in your ear? I’ve got a room next door.”

Wow, was I wrong.

The kid wasn’t cute. He was a presumptuous twit.

I leaned in closer and ignored the nausea swirling in my stomach and rising in my throat.

Rise.

I swallowed down that errant thought.

For the last four years, I’d used my body as a weapon. But always as a defense. A tool to keep men just out of reach. Too hot for them to handle. Too dangerous to touch. Giving the impression I’d be all too happy to cut them to pieces if they even tried hurting me in any way, even though in reality I would have been the one shaking in my boots.

But tonight? I hated myself a little more because I used this weapon against Lyrik. Even after he’d destroyed a little of what he’d exposed. I used it against the burning hope that wouldn’t stop churning in my spirit.

I reached across the bar and ran the tip of my index finger down the stranger’s face. “Sure thing, sweetheart. I get off at three.”

As if I was that easy.

I scratched ten digits onto a bar napkin and pressed it into his hand.

Of course they were the wrong ten digits. No chance in hell would I let him touch me.

I hated every second of this.

Back to pretending I was someone I was not.

Messing with this kid, despite how offensively brazen his advances were.

Vindictive in my actions.

But the only thing that made sense right then was to hurt Lyrik the way he was hurting me.

Slow and agonizing. Sharp and severe.

As if I were slowly bleeding out.

I had to build back up the walls. I had to restore the foundation I’d built to survive. I needed to protect and preserve and persevere. And I knew he was watching and I knew he received the message.

You can’t hurt me.

In my periphery, I felt more than saw Lyrik stand from the booth. Chest aching, I glanced that way and met with his gaze.

Hard.

Bitter.

Maybe even disappointed.

He stared me down for a few heartbreaking moments. Jaw clenched, the heavy bob of his throat was evident as he swallowed. Then he turned his back on me and walked out the door. He took all that potent energy with him, leaving the cavernous space hollow and vacant.

I slumped forward. The cutting pain was so intense I gasped around it.

You can’t hurt me.

But I knew the truth.

Lyrik West was the only one who could.