Armstr

antrum, this brutal, beautiful existence I' d carved out of the wreckage. He probably called it an insult to my Juilliard training, a di

ting, a dull ache throbbing in my knees. The grease

persistent buzz against my hip. I pulled it out,

My best friend, my rock through the darkest ye

a frantic whisper, laced with panic. "He's looki

ing against the cold

re studio apart looking for you. He' s going to find you," she gasped, her

moment. My fingernails were black with engine grease, tiny cresce

at, devoid of emotion. "He won

voice rising, cracking with fear. "You know

truck' s fender. The ugly scar on the web of my thumb spread, a jagged lightning bolt across the back of my hand. My index and middle fingers were stiff, permanent

gic? Who would believe it once shone under Carnegie Hall's lights? That

va," I said, the old proverb a c

could reply. I had

mmediately. A text this ti

t the charity gala next Saturday. 8

ly. "Consider this an opportunity, El

e, a ghost of the agony I' d felt five years ago. Alexandrea, his mistress, the woman he' d left Lily and me for.

There was no way I was going back to that gilded cage, to face th

Colt was still yelling about the Civic. I wiped my hands on a grimy rag