Page 68 of His Innocent Muse

GHOST

It isn’t surprising for Roman to assume a beautiful woman walking around the holding gallery is either available for use, or waiting for their turn in the main exhibit. But this isLucy.She was wearing a T-shirt over leggings, for fuck’s sake. And no mask. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“No,” Murder says soothingly, “nothing ba—”

“He wanted to take you downstairs.” Mayhem and Murder both glare at me. “I’ll tell you everything about that. After this.”

Mayhem grins with a mouthful of bagel. “Told you. Hell, she might get branded tonight.”

Lucy squirms a bit, brows twisted in confusion or guilt, but she scoots closer and grabs my clenched fist.

I take a steadying breath and work my fingers free, linking them with hers.

“Go on, Lucy.”

“Um… so. Norman, the driver guy, he didn’t talk the whole ride. He was texting and driving before I lied about where I lived and he let me out.”

Mayhem stops chewing and narrows his gaze at her. “That was smart.”

Lucy’s mouth works like a fish, and even Murder seems taken aback. I’m not.

There aren’t many who know Mayhem like I do. He wasn’t always a raving, no-reason-to-live lunatic. He had a wife once. A step-daughter he worshiped with his whole heart. He and Murder were never close to begin with, and when Mayhem’s life turned to shit in the worst way, it was me who brought him into the fold, protected him. From the law. From himself.

I know he’s capable of a deep, viciously protective love. Even if he doesn’t believe that part of him’s still in there.

As if he realizes he gave her a compliment, he scoffs and leans back. “Maybe you won’t die immediately. Though, I dunno. Jury’s still out. You did walk a billion miles in sandals when you could have taken a bus or something like a normal human.”

Satisfied that he re-cemented himself as a douche, he chomps another bite of bagel and stares off into the distance.

Lucy huffs and twists to stare at me again, though she’s told me this already. “The door was cracked, and I thought it was empty, so I went in. Took off my clothes. Got in the bath and that’s when Damian showed up. They were texting each other, and he said I was lucky Norman was on his side. Said he wanted to send me back to get the codes. I locked him out of the bathroom, and Mayhem showed up.”

This Norman man may have inadvertently saved Lucy from whatever fate Roman was cooking, but he delivered her right into the hands of a far worse monster. He needs to die.

“Mayhem saved your life, that’s what Mayhem did,” he grumbles. “Dude was a grade-A creep. Should’ve skinned him. That would have been a good time.”

Murder ignores him and says, “So, Roman never said anything directly to you about any codes?”

“No, he didn’t. He was just worried about me walking in New York alone. With how he was talking, I really don’t think he even knows what happened, you know?” She refocuses on me again. “I mean, Chuck was obsessed with the Cartwrights. I heard that name all the time, and I know he never got a job with them.”

I frown, catching Mayhem’s gaze. She was closer to this life than I realized.

“Damian wouldn’t have gone alone and risked losing…”

She trails off, picking at a thread on her shirt, and a stone drops in my stomach.

“Losingwhat?”

Lucy straightens, forcing herself to meet my eyes. “Me. He’d been around since I was…fifteen. I know he wouldn’t stop for anything Roman could offer him.”

The math rushes by in my head. The hurt in her eyes tells me everything I need to know. Fifteen. Four years ago. That would mean Damian must have been the first one to lay hands on her. Oh, the ways I’m going to hurt that slime.

“I thought Roman was gonna call you and…” Lucy rattles on before I can respond. “And I told him not to, because I thought you wouldn’t want to be bothered. He acted like he was your friend.”

I can’t glower hard enough. “Of course he did. And then you gave him all the permission he needed to take you by telling him to keep it a secret.”

Lucy’s sharp intake of breath sends a chill down my spine, and I quickly release her hand, cupping her cheek instead.

“I’m not upset with you,” I say. “You did nothing wrong. And you’re doing wonderfully.”

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