I feel like I’m dying inside from worry.

For several minutes, I sit silently on the bed, inhaling the faint masculine scent Wyatt left behind. I know what I have to do. I know that I have to call Sienna to find out what she knows about my brother, but I also know that I’m not going to like what I hear. I know that there’s a 99.9 percent chance she’s been burned by all of this.

By the time I work up the nerve to call her, I’m crying.

“Please tell me he didn’t?” More than ever before, I want to be wrong. I want her to tell me that she’s still with Lucas, and he hasn’t kicked her out.

But I’m not wrong.

Her voice sounds like she’s a million miles away as she answers me, “Why does it matter?”

It matters because I wanted my brother to take care of her. I want him to be happy. It matters because I was the one who convinced her to go along with him. I was the one who told her that taking Lucas up on his offer would be all worth it.

But judging by the way Sienna sounds today, I was wrong about all of that.

“He’s letting her control him,” I explain. “I checked his...” I pause and take a deep breath, squeezing my eyes tight in hopes that it will keep me from picturing Samantha’s fucked-up sneer. “He sent her a wire this morning for two hundred and fifty grand, and then I called him.”

There’s more silence on Sienna’s end of the line. I climb out of the bed, barely feeling the thick carpet beneath my feet as I pace the short width of the hotel room. I try not to imagine what he could have said to Sienna before he made her leave him. I try not to think about what she must think of me right now for convincing her to be with him.

But it’s impossible for me not to think about these things.

Finally, the sound of nothing but heavy breathing does me in, and I lean against the dresser, gripping the edges of the wood. “She’s got something on him, Sienna. I’ve got no fucking clue what it is, but she threatened him. She doesn’t want him to be happy. She’s—”

Sienna makes a soft noise, a sound of acknowledgment. “Kylie, I’ll call you back.”

“Let me talk to him. Let me figure out why she’s screwing him over, and I can fix—”

Then, I realize that she’s ended the conversation, and I’m making promises to nobody other than myself. Even though I desperately want to, I don’t call her back because it won’t help either of us right now. Hearing my voice again so soon will only make her hurt more. So, I call the source behind all of her pain.

He doesn’t answer my call, and I start to leave a message. More than anything, I want to let Lucas know exactly how I feel about him at this very moment, but then I realize that it won’t do me any good. If he responds, it will only be in defense. He’ll only remind me of just how messed up my own relationship with Wyatt is. I end the call and clench the iPhone as tightly as possible to resist the urge to hurl it across the room.

As I ease down onto the edge of the bed with my face buried in my hands, I’m not sure if I’m crying more for Sienna and my brother, or for myself and Wyatt McCrae.

***

For the remainder of the day, I put on the most believable facade possible. Heidi and I explore Albuquerque since this is her first visit here, and she ropes me into doing everything from shopping to trying to get past the ID verification at a casino she’s read good reviews about. It doesn’t work, and we’re turned away.

As we take a taxi back to our hotel to get dressed for tonight’s show, she finally brings up Lucas. I tiptoe around the topic for several questions until she asks, “So, I’m guessing you got everything worked out for him.”

I tighten my hands into fists in my lap, giving Heidi a nod. “Wrapped up neatly and tied with a bow.” An incredibly sad and frayed bow that will unravel into a million pieces at any moment.

“Thank God. I’d feel like shit if Finn messed something up for Lucas.”

A tiny smile crosses my lips. “Finn would feel like shit if he screwed with Lucas.” Saying that only makes my thoughts ping back to Samantha.

My brother is hotheaded, moody, and commanding. He’s the first to start a fight and the last to say sorry. So, why the fuck is he pouring his money into Samantha’s hands the moment she snaps her claws?

After the taxi driver drops us off at the hotel, I attempt to think about anything but Sam and Lucas and Sienna. Of course, the second Wyatt comes back to the room, striding across the floor with his hands pushed deep into his pockets, he blows that to hell.

He stands behind me as I apply my makeup in the bathroom mirror. “Something’s wrong, Ky.” The alarm is back in his voice. It’s the same panic that was present back in New Orleans on the night Shiner Bock ransacked my room.

I look up, glancing at his reflection and mine. “Had a fight with Lucas.”

“He say something fucked-up to you?” he demands, leaning his muscular long body up against the door frame.

I shake my head. Regardless of how angry I am with my brother, there’s only so much of his personal life I want to put out there, not even to Wyatt, who’s Lucas’s best friend. “He hurt Sienna.”

Wyatt mouths her name a couple times before recognition dawns in his blue eyes. “And she came after you for that?”

“No. That’s just it. She didn’t say anything.”

I carefully apply my lipstick, an electric blue I found at Sephora that matches the blue in my hair, before I turn to face him. His gaze slides up my body from the blue patent stilettos to the leather-looking leggings and finally to the asymmetrical black top that brings out every positive aspect of my figure. His eyes are appreciative and hungry, making my eyes drop to the tile floor.

“Don’t look at me like that when I’m angry.”

He crooks his finger, beckoning me to him. Tentatively, I step forward until his strong hands circle around me, clasping on to the sides of my bottom. “You’re not angry at me, beautiful.” He backs me up against the door frame. “Are you?”

Thoughts of how I cried over him earlier this afternoon force their way into my head. I jab my tongue into my cheek. “I’m trying not to be.”

Burying his face into my hair, he slides his palms up and down my hips. “Then, don’t be. Deal with your brother’s shit tomorrow. Be mine tonight.”

Arching my back, I lean away from him and slip my fingers into his hair, tugging hard. His eyes watch mine for what seems like hours before he bends his head to press tiny kisses all over my face and neck and chest, ruffling the flimsy fabric of my shirt.

“Deal with Lucas tomorrow,” he says again in a more forceful voice. “You’re mine tonight.”

I don’t correct him and let him know that tomorrow is Saturday, the last show before we go back to L.A. It could potentially be the last show of our relationship if we choose to go our separate ways.

“No,” I tell him, “you’re mine.”

Chapter Thirteen

The Twisted Keg, the bar where the band is playing, is located in downtown Albuquerque. It’s twice the size of the bar in Houston, and there are at least three times as many people inside. After Wyatt smooths things over with security at the door, I’m allowed entry without my ID. He kisses me longingly before disappearing to join the band, and I find myself wanting to go with him.

“Thought you guys weren’t into PDA,” Heidi says loudly from behind me as we squeeze through the crowd of tightly packed bodies.

“We’re not.” I shoot a glance over my shoulder to find her grinning. Turning my gaze back to the crowd in front of us for a moment, I ask, “Why do I feel like this is a screwed up riot just waiting to happen?”

She sucks in a breath, and I glance back to see her making a face at a woman who’s a few feet away from us. Judging by the way she’s moving her foot, I can only assume Heidi’s toe has fallen victim to the other woman’s lethal-looking stilettos. “Because you’ve been to these types of things enough times to know how quickly crap can get crazy.”