Page 6 of Perfect Pitch

I break our connection and focus on the brown file. Without hesitation, I flip it open. Immediately, my hands fly to my mouth. “Oh my god.”

“I promise, we’ll figure out whoever did this,” comes Mitch’s deep voice.

I will die a thousand lifetimes before I lose the last piece of my soul due to falling in love. Still, I look into his eyes, and I plead with him, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

* * *

Hours after hammering out agreements and schedules, I have to escape when the discussion about payments starts. I manage a weak tilt of my lips at my mother before making a mad dash for the door. I fly past a startled Angie and am frantically pacing when a hand gently clasps my shoulder.

Like it always does when he touches me, my mind stills.

My pulse slows.

It’s my heartbeat that picks up.

That is until his voice begs, “Beats, please. Hold on to me.”

I twist my head around and meet his pleading eyes before I fall into his arms.

There’s no way around it. Just because the tie that bound us no longer exists doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

NINE YEARS AGO—QUEENS, NEW YORK

Although actual construction will not begin for several weeks, the cornerstone of the Freedom Tower is laid on the site of the World Trade Center.

—New York Entertainment, a StellaNova company

Filmore’s is packed to the gills with other recruits from my training class. It’s Friday and we’re letting off some steam from a grueling week. A body brushes by me as another recruit makes his way to the bar. Lifting a warming beer to my lips, I take a pull from the longneck and admire the men and women who have been put through grueling workouts, tactical hand-to-hand combat, and classroom work all week.

I hear, “Clifton!” shouted from the region of the bar just as my cell phone rings. Holding up a finger, I put my beer down and step outside to have a chance of hearing the caller. “Hello?”

“Mitch.” Trevor, my younger brother by five years, has a notable quiver to his voice.

“Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?”

“They’re gone.”

“They? They who?”

“Mom and Dad.” He begins to hyperventilate.

“What do you mean gone?” Forgetting about everything but getting to my brother as soon as possible, I start walking in the direction of my car. “Did they go away for the weekend and leave you home again?” Trevor has had some recent issues with anxiety.

After all, in the town we grew up in, it was either conform or get out. And Trevor’s way too young to do the latter.

“No, I mean they left for good. They said they were done, that I could finish raising myself. That I should dig down deep and man up to be more like you.” Trevor’s voice quivers.

Even hearing the words secondhand is like taking a whip to the back. I reach my beat-up Camry and fling the door open. “Are you trying to tell me they kicked you out?”

His laugh holds no humor. “More like they said I have until they get back from their vacation to leave.”

My hand grips my cell so hard I’m afraid it will crack. “What do you mean?”

“That’s what they said. What am I supposed to do, Mitch? I have nowhere to go!” Panic reaches out across the phone lines and starts to twist itself around my neck like a noose.

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