Micah’s grin broadened. “I appreciate that.”
Angelina hurried up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long. I know you have to go, Connor.”
Micah pulled her up against him and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, by all means. He’s chomping at the bit to get back, so let’s get on the road.”
“Fuck you,” Connor grumbled as he climbed into the extended cab.
It was a good bit out of the way for Micah to drive Connor to the downtown hotel, and Connor fumed the entire way. They were just a few blocks from the hotel when Connor’s cell phone rang.
He fished it out of his pocket and frowned when he looked at the number. It wasn’t in his contact list but the number was a local one.
“Connor Malone,” he said shortly.
“Mr. Malone, this is Sergeant Willis with the Houston Police Department. I believe you know a Lyric Jones?”
Connor closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “What’s she done?” he asked wearily.
Twenty minutes later, Connor climbed out of Micah’s truck in front of the police station where Lyric was being held.
“You sure you don’t want us to wait?” Micah asked.
Connor shook his head. “I’ll call a cab. You and Angelina go home. This could take a while.”
“Okay, man. Let me know if you need anything.”
Connor waved and stalked toward the entrance. At the front desk, he asked for Sergeant Willis, and the clerk jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
Connor walked through the swinging gate to the array of desks separated by thin partitions. He stopped and stared when he caught sight of Lyric sitting on top of one of the desks holding court among a half dozen policemen.
Her legs dangled and she was talking and waving her hands in animated fashion. Her cheek dimpled with a smile and her eyes twinkled. It dawned on him that she hadn’t smiled much and certainly not so unreservedly.
Micah was right. She was fucking beautiful.
Her eyes dimmed when she caught sight of him and she crossed her arms over her chest as she stared past the cops. They turned and followed her gaze to where Connor stood, and he got the impression he wasn’t a very popular guy right now.
He folded his arms in an imitation of hers and cast a baleful look in her direction.
One of the cops, a guy who made Connor feel small, and Connor wasn’t a small guy, headed in Connor’s direction, a frown etched into his face.
“You the guy who’s supposed to be looking out for Lyric?”
Connor sighed and nodded. “You Sergeant Willis?”
“Yeah, I am. Lyric said you were being a dickhead so she took off. She stopped me to ask me for an escort. Said some crazy stalker is after her.”
“Well, at least she had the sense to ask for help,” Connor muttered.
“She shouldn’t be out on her own.”
Connor stared the officer down. “Try telling her that.”
Sergeant Willis nodded. “We did. We sat her down after we figured out who she was. We gave her a Breathalyzer. I thought she’d been drinking.”
Connor chuckled. “She’s a handful.”
“She’s nice. Not at all uppity like some of the magazines say. She gave all the boys autographs and let them take pictures with her. She even offered us tickets to the rodeo the night she’s performing.”
Leave it to Lyric to make conquests and make Connor look like a first-class asshole for not falling under her spell. She could be positively charming when she wanted to be.
“Can I take her home now?” Connor asked cautiously.
Sergeant Willis hesitated. “If she wants to go.”
Connor scowled. “She’ll go. She’s been enough trouble for one day.”
He stepped around the sergeant and strode to where Lyric was still sitting on the edge of the desk.
“Are you ready to go?”
Lyric frowned. “No. I don’t want to go anywhere with you. You’re fired. These nice officers have offered to take me back to my hotel.”
Connor sighed and resisted the urge to wrap his hands in her hair and kiss her right there on the desk. The last thing he needed was to get arrested.
“You can’t fire me, Lyric. We’ve been through this before.”
Her frown grew fiercer and she glanced toward Sergeant Willis. “He can’t make me do anything, right?”
Sergeant Willis shook his head. “No, ma’am, he can’t. If you want him gone, say the word. You can even get a restraining order.”
“Oh, for the love of God, Lyric. Be reasonable.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Me be reasonable? You’re the asshole here. I’ve been accommodating. I’ve done everything you asked me to. I even wore this ridiculous outfit so I wouldn’t offend any of your friends. I agreed to let you stay in my hotel room. How am I the unreasonable one here?”
He arched one eyebrow. “What the hell’s wrong with your clothes?”
She gave him a look of disgust. “I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt and no makeup what so ever.” She glanced up at the officers and let her lips quiver. “He humiliated me in front of his friends.”
They all turned and glared at Connor. Hell. Just what he needed. A bunch of pissed-off cops with their protective instincts riled. He glared back at Lyric, not at all fooled by her acting job. Next she’d probably turn on the tears and they’d all kick his ass.
“Are they going to be able to stay with you every hour of the next two weeks?” Connor challenged. “The threat against you is for real, Lyric. I need you to take it seriously.”
“I take it very seriously,” she gritted out. “If you took it so damn serious, you’d work harder not to piss me off.”
Okay, so she had a point. He blew out his breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. “All right, Lyric. Truce.”
She stared suspiciously at him.
“It’s late. You need rest. You’ve had a headache all day. Let’s go back to the hotel so I can give you some more medicine and get you to bed.”
As he’d hoped, the other cops nodded their agreement. Score one for him.
“It’s a good idea, Ms. Jones,” Sergeant Willis said.
She scowled at the sergeant. “I haven’t forgiven you for cuffing me yet, so you don’t get a vote.”
“You cuffed her?” Connor demanded.
It was the sergeant’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I thought she might be a little unstable.” He tapped his temple as he spoke to indicate what he meant.
Lyric’s mouth popped open in outrage. “Is that what ten ninety-six means?”
Sergeant Willis gave her a sheepish look. “Yes, ma’am. We don’t normally use call signs, but I thought if you understood what I was saying over the radio, you might prove more difficult.”
“Men,” she muttered. “All assholes. I ask you for help and you think I’m psycho.”
Connor held in his laughter at her disgruntled look. “Can we go now?”
“Oh, all right. I’ll go with you. But if you piss me off again, I’m going to get that restraining order Sergeant Willis said I could have done.”
Every single one of the policemen fished a card from his wallet and thrust it toward Lyric. All with the assurance that if she ever needed anything, she had only to call.
Lyric smiled and took each of the cards and thanked the officers for their help. Connor had to hand it to her. She knew how to work a crowd. She had every one of the cops eating out of her hand. Hell, if she kept it up, she’d have him eating out of her hand.
“The BMW is still at the gas station,” Lyric mumbled when she got to him. “How are we getting to the hotel?”
“I’ll call a cab.”
“One of us will be happy to drive you back to the gas station to pick up the car,” Sergeant Willis offered. “I’m assuming you have the keys this time.”
Connor pulled the keys from his pocket and then turned to Lyric. “You and I have a lot to talk about, starting with how the hell you learned to hot-wire a car.”