Page 76 of Perfect Order

“Never become inspired that way again.”

“But I have at least three others I was hoping to pitch,” I force my voice so it quivers deliberately.

“Oh, God, no. Yes, yes. I take it back. Sing it again. It’s addicting as hell. I swear that was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Is there a recording of it somewhere? If so, I need it for personal use on those days I want to strangle people.”

“Do I look like I’ve lost my mind?” I play a few notes and then shake my shoulders back and forth before plucking out the melody and singing, “Seem to be rackin’ ’em, fillin’ it to maximum.”

Carys wraps her arms around her middle and stumbles back a few steps. “Please tell me you’ll sing that for Kris at the Grammys.”

I sober quickly. My hands stop moving on the keys. “Even if you gave me all the money of Fort Knox, Jeff Bezos, and the equivalent of the national debt, you couldn’t get me to play that outside of this room.” I stand and move away from the keyboard. “I’ve only sang that to Lee. I never should have…”

“What? Shared her with someone else who cared about her?” Sympathy laces Carys’s voice.

I reel when it hits me that’s exactly what I did. The heels of my hands come up and press against my eyes as I begin nodding frantically.

“Lee, in some ways, Beckett’s right. You have to let go of some of this guilt you feel about her death. What happens if we find out it was nothing more than a true mugging and she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Carys implores me.

“Then I pay the price for my decisions, but at least I—we’ll—know,” I rasp.

Her hand comes to rest upon my arm. “The price won’t be that high. I promise, we’ll find whoever did this to you, to your family, to your sister. We’ll help you find peace.”

If there’s peace to be found.

My hands fall to my side, and I find myself staring down into the aqua eyes of this woman—dare I say, friend?—who has helped me with this charade. How much have I endangered her? Her family? Immediately, I begin putting a contingency plan in place in the event this goes to hell in a handbasket.

Because there’s a feeling inside of me I’m going to get my answers, but what that means for everyone else around me? I have no idea.

Kane

I refuse to be jealous that @DaniMadison is wearing an #amaryllisdesigns original on the #redcarpet while walking with hubby @brendanblake.

If I keep saying it enough, I’ll really mean it.

— Moore You Want

“Are you ready for the Grammys?” I fling Leanne a lazy smile the night before she’s supposed to fly out to Los Angeles. My feet are kicked up on Keene’s desk, something for which I’m sure he’d kick my ass if he knew about it.

Her mouth curves, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, sure. I mean, just because they’re expecting Erzulie and they’re getting me, what’s the point of worrying?”

My legs come down, and I straighten, concerned. “Lee, why wouldn’t you let Beckett work with you?” My protectee’s been squawking at his own rehearsals, wondering how his protégée is. In the precarious position I’ve been placed in, I can hardly say, “Fine, full of sass, and out for vengeance.” So, I’ve been listening to him worry and rant for days.

“Because I have to stop leaning on people, Kane! I have to figure out how to survive on my own. I can’t endanger anyone else any more than I have!” The pain of her words drowns out the actual words themselves.

“What’s happened?” I ask her.

She stubbornly refuses to answer.

“Leanne, tell me.”

“Maybe I should go.”

“Maybe you should talk to me,” I counter.

“I’ve already involved you enough.”

“Not nearly.”

“Damnit, Kane, I’m trying to protect you. Trying to give you that second chance at life you’re hoping for,” she bites out.