Chapter Eighteen
BY THE TIME I pulled up to Devil’s place, the sun was just starting to break through the trees, cutting long strips of light across the yard like the day was trying to force its way in whether anyone wanted it or not, and for a second I just sat there with the engine idling, looking at the house the same way I always did.
Untouched. Frozen. Like time had stopped the day Raina died and never picked back up again.
I killed the engine and hopped off, the quiet hitting me right away, heavy but different from the clubhouse, more… hollow.
I walked up the steps and unlocked the door, pushing it open slowly, already knowing what I was walking into before I even crossed the threshold.
Everything exactly where it had been left.
Every time.
Didn’t matter how many times I came here, it still felt like I was stepping into something that didn’t belong to the living.
“Alright,” I muttered under my breath, setting my bag down near the entry. “Let’s get this done.”
Work had always helped, giving my brain something solid to lock onto when everything else blurred into noise, and I leaned into that now as I moved through the house with quiet purpose, checking entry points first, windows, back door, side access, mentally mapping the layout the way I always did, already calculating where cameras would give me the best coverage without drawing attention, the front door an easy placement, the back entrance just as simple, but the side windows needing more thought with too much blind space unless I angled things just right, so I stepped back and studied the line of sight until it settled into place in my head, a clean solution clicking where it should, and I gave a small nod before moving on, because that was the thing about this kind of work, it stayed clean, logical, stripped of the bullshit, just problem, solution, done, no room for guesswork and no space for emotion to creep in and complicate it.
I made my way into the living room and slowed without meaning to, my gaze dragging over the couch, the table, the small untouched details that hadn’t shifted in years, and it hit the same way it always did, that strange contradiction of a place that still felt full while being completely empty at the same time, the kind of quiet that didn’t settle right, so I scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck and muttered under my breath that the place needed cameras whether someone was actually creeping around or not, because a house left alone this long was a target, plain and simple, no debate about it.
I turned toward the hallway, already pulling out my phone to double-check my list and run through installation order, what needed to go up first, what could wait, when I stopped mid-step, something in my gut tightening as that faint, irritating sense of wrong settled in.
I frowned, lowering the phone as I listened, really listened, but there was nothing there, just the same silence that had greeted me when I walked in, and still it didn’t sit right, not exactly, more like a shift just under the surface, small enough to ignore if I wanted to but sharp enough that I didn’t, like something had been moved or disturbed in a way I couldn’t quite pin down, and I muttered it was probably nothing even as I stayed where I was, my eyes moving slower this time, sharper, tracking the hallway again piece by piece.
Everything looked the same—exactly the same—but the feeling didn’t ease, didn’t fade, just sat there low and unsettled, pressing at the back of my thoughts until I let out a slow breath through my nose and shook my head, telling myself to get a grip because I had work to do and no time to stand around imagining shit that wasn’t there, so I pushed it aside the way I always did and got moving again, stepping into the next room, pulling tools from my bag, settling into the rhythm of the job, focused, controlled, one step at a time, even though that sense of something being off didn’t fully leave, lingering in the back of my mind like it was waiting for something I couldn’t see yet.
And for no real reason at all, Evie slipped into my thoughts, the memory of her smile from the night before catching harder than it should have, the way she’d looked at me like maybe this could turn into something real settling deep, and I exhaled slowly as I adjusted the first camera into place, muttering for myself to focus, because the sooner I finished here, the sooner I could see her again, and I wasn’t about to let anything, real or imagined, get in the way of that.
***
“YOU’RE QUIET TONIGHT,” I said, watching Evie, trying to catch something in her expression that didn’t line up with the smile she kept giving me, the kind that looked right on the surface but didn’t quite settle underneath it. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, a little too quick, her fingers tightening for a second around the edge of the table before she seemed to catch herself and loosen them, softening it with a small smile. “Just tired.”
I didn’t buy it. Not all the way.
“You sure you wanna be here?” I asked, leaning back in my chair but keeping my eyes on her, not letting it go yet. “I can take you home. It’s not a big deal.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, but her gaze dropped for a beat before coming back to me, that smile settling in like she was making herself hold it. “I wanna be here.”
I was about to push again, probably shouldn’t have, but I was gonna, when Spinner’s voice cut in behind me, breaking the moment before I could get a real read on her.
“Can we sit here,” he said, already dragging out a chair, “or is this reserved for the fifties crowd only?”
I didn’t even look at him. “You don’t belong here.”
Lucy slid in beside Evie like she’d always had a seat, bumping her shoulder, and Evie leaned into it just enough to say she wanted the distraction. “Ignore him,” Lucy said. “He’s just jealous Gatsby’s got more going on than he ever will.”
“That’s a load of shit and you know it,” Spinner shot back, dropping into the chair across from us. “You eat up everything I throw your way.”
Lucy grinned. “Yeah, I got a weakness for bad decisions.”
Evie laughed, soft, quick, and this time it came a little easier, her shoulders loosening just enough that I caught it, and for a second she looked like herself again.
Then it slipped.
“So, Evie,” Lucy went on, back to be nosey as hell, “I hear you’ve got a vintage thrift store. That’s actually really cool.”
“It’s always been a dream of mine,” Evie said, and her voice softened in a way that felt real, her fingers brushing lightly over the table like she was tracing something that wasn’t there. “Doesn’t really feel like work most days.”
“That’s the goal right there,” Lucy said. “Me and Zeynep will have to come check it out. You open Monday?”
“Yeah,” Evie nodded, but she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear a second too late, like she needed something to do with her hands. “Nine to six.”
There it was again.
Not big. Not obvious.
But there.
Her gaze kept drifting, not around the room like she was curious, but quick, checking, like she was making sure of something without wanting it to be seen.
I leaned back slightly, watching her closer now, letting the conversation move around us while I tried to piece it together.
Was it me?
Hell, maybe it was.
I’d never been into a woman like this before, never this fast, never this locked in, and maybe I was coming on too strong without realizing it, pushing her into something she wasn’t ready for.
“You’ve met Zeynep?” Lucy asked.
“Yeah,” Evie said, and this time she nodded a little too quickly, like she wanted to move past it. “When I was here last.”
Her hand stilled on the table after that.
Just… stopped.
Like whatever she’d been doing, whatever small movement she’d been using to keep herself grounded, cut off all at once.
I felt my brow pull slightly.
That didn’t sit right.
“She’ll love your shop,” Lucy said. “Girl’s got an old soul. Hopefully Mystic lets her outta his sight long enough to come with me.”
Spinner snorted. “Man’s gonna be a pain in the ass till that baby’s here.”
“He’ll be one hell of a dad,” I said, but my attention wasn’t fully there anymore. “Kid’s gonna be locked down tight.”
“Nobody in their right mind is messin’ with Mystic,” Spinner added.
“Speakin’ of people you don’t mess with…” I muttered, more out of habit than anything, my gaze shifting toward the bar.
Horse.
Sitting there like a storm waiting to break, eyes locked on Brenda while she moved like she didn’t feel it, which I knew wasn’t true.
“Guy needs an intervention,” I said.
Lucy’s head snapped that way. “It’s his own damn fault. Brenda’s a great woman, and if he can’t commit after all these years, she’s smart to move on.”
“I don’t get why he doesn’t just claim her,” Spinner said.
“Backstory?” Evie asked quietly, but she didn’t look at them when she said it, her attention still somewhere else for half a second before she forced it back.
“His wife—Caroline—died a long time ago,” Lucy said. “Brenda’s been there ever since, but he won’t take that step. Now she’s got a new guy, and he actually treats her right.”
“So he feels like loving someone else means betraying his wife,” Evie said, her voice softer now, distant in a way that didn’t quite match the conversation.
“Yeah,” I said, watching her instead of them. “Looks that way.”
“That’s tough,” she murmured. “Grief… it changes people.”
“Or fucks ’em up,” Spinner muttered.
Lucy shot him a look. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, shit,” Spinner said suddenly. “He’s doin’ it.”
I followed his gaze and felt my jaw tighten. Horse had one of the sweet butts pulled onto his lap. Didn’t look right. Didn’t look like him.
“See?” Spinner said. “Intervention.”
“He needs to get his shit together and commit to Brenda,” Lucy snapped.
Evie watched the bar, her expression quieter now, but her arms had crossed at some point and she hadn’t even seemed to notice. “Brenda doesn’t look like she cares.”