10. Evie
10
EVIE
“Mama, Violet’s hiding my shoes again!”
I pour cereal with one hand while checking my phone with the other. Rose’s text glares at me: “ Urgent news. Come over.”
“Under your bed,” I call up to Daisy. “Where you left them yesterday.”
Morning chaos swirls around me—backpacks, breakfast, and two girls who seem determined to test every boundary before eight AM.
But chaos is better than fear, better than looking over our shoulders like we did in the first months after running.
“Found them!” Daisy thunders downstairs, brandishing her shoes like trophies. “Violet put glitter in them!”
“Did not!” But my youngest’s giggle gives her away.
I’m helping Violet wash glitter off her hands when Rose’s knock comes. She doesn’t wait for an answer, slipping in with her laptop and that look that means trouble.
“Girls,” she greets them with forced cheer. “Ready for school?”
They know better than to linger when Rose has that tone. Even Violet just hugs me quickly before following her sister out.
“Love you, Mama!”
“Love you too, babies. Be good!”
The bus pulls away, and Rose’s smile drops. “We need to talk.”
“Good morning to you too.” I pour her coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“Luca’s got a new family.”
The mug slips from my hand. Rose catches it before it shatters.
“What?”
She opens her laptop and turns it toward me. There they are—Luca with his arm around a blonde woman, both smiling at a little boy between them. The photo’s recent, taken at some charity gala.
“Meet Teresa and Marcus Romano. She’s a society widow, and he’s her two-year-old son.” Rose’s voice stays neutral. “And apparently, he’s also Luca’s.”
My stomach lurches. “He always wanted a son. Two years old? He was cheating on me the whole time?—”
“Yes. You didn’t think he was faithful the whole time, did you?” Rose raises an eyebrow. “He’s insane.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. But seeing him play happy family while I’m running with our daughters…
“There’s more.” She pulls up bank records. “He’s been moving money. Big amounts.”
“Looking for us?”
“Looking for his money.” She shows me the transfers. “He knows you took it, Evie. He’s getting desperate.”
“Good.” But my hands shake as I reach for my coffee. “How’s the laundering going?”
“Smooth so far. That bike shop in Nebraska’s working perfectly as a front. But—” She hesitates.
“What?”
“You’re getting careless. These brothers?—”
“Don’t.” I stand, needing to move. “The Cross brothers are none of your business. They’re the only thing keeping me sane in this crazy world I’ve plunged into.”
“They’re making you sloppy. The window shows?—”
Heat floods my cheeks. “You know about that?”
“I know everything.” She softens slightly. “I’m not judging. Just worried. One brother would be dangerous enough. But all three?”
“It’s not like that.”
“No?” She closes her laptop. “The oldest watches you like a hawk. The artist doesn’t take his eyes from the window. And the youngest? He’s at your girls’ school more than some of the teachers.”
She’s not wrong. Rick’s kisses still burn on my lips. Zane’s touch lingers from yesterday. And tonight, Chase will cover Luca’s name with something new.
“They’re good men.”
“They’re criminals too.” Rose stands. “Different kind than Luca, maybe. But still dangerous.”
“They protect people.”
“Until they can’t.” She heads for the door. “Just…be careful. Remember why we chose Wolf Pike. The Cross brothers are perfect neighbors because they’re dangerous enough to keep Luca away. Don’t complicate that.”
After she leaves, I stand at my kitchen window. From here, I can see their house—my dangerous neighbors with their tattoos and motorcycles, their gentle hands with my daughters, and their hungry eyes when they think I’m not looking.
My phone buzzes. Chase: “Tonight. 8pm. After hours.”
Something warm unfurls in my stomach. In twelve hours, his hands will be on my skin, erasing Luca’s mark. Making me his.
No, I correct myself. Making me theirs.
Rose is right. I’m playing with fire.
But as I head to work, I can’t help thinking—maybe it’s time to burn.
Shadows stretch across hardwood floors, and the usual buzz of machines is replaced by silence. My heels echo as I walk to Chase’s private studio.
He’s waiting. The machine is already set up, and the phoenix design I approved earlier lies ready on his table. While all of Chase’s designs are gorgeous, the phoenix is the one that truly captures what I want this piece to represent—my future with my girls, rising up from the ashes of my past.
The look in his eyes stops me in the doorway—hungry, focused, like I’m already naked.
“Ready?” His voice comes out rough.
I touch Luca’s name on my collarbone. After tonight, this last trace of him will be gone. “Yes.”
“Strip.”
The command sends heat straight through me. When I reach for my blouse buttons, his eyes track every movement.
“The chair’s set up.” He turns to adjust his inks, giving me the privacy I don’t really want, not after the shows I’ve been putting on.
The leather is cool against my skin as I settle in the chair. Chase turns back, and the way he bites his lower lips tells me the lace bra was a good choice.
“Comfortable?” He pulls his stool closer. The first touch of his latex-covered fingers makes me shiver.
“Getting there.”
He starts with the numbing cream, but every brush of his hands feels like fire. I watch his face as he works, the concentration in his eyes.
“Hold still.” The machine buzzes to life. “This part’s gonna hurt.”
But pain’s the last thing on my mind as he begins. Each touch of the needle sends electricity through my body. His free hand, splayed on my shoulder, burns hotter than the machine.
“We all watched you last night.”
The words come so casually that I almost miss them. Almost.
“What?”
Chase’s lips curve, but he doesn’t look up from his work. “From my room. It was Zane’s first time. We felt a little bad we hadn’t let him in on the secret yet.”
Heat floods my face as he tells me about how he introduced his brothers to my nightly shows, first Rick and then Zane.
When Rick kissed me in his office the second time, he already knew what I looked like naked. Had watched me put on my show.
“You just knew they’d want to watch?”
“Honey—” His laugh rumbles through me. “I know my brothers. I knew they’d want to watch.”
My core clenches at the thought of all three of them. Watching me.
“Almost done.” Chase wipes away excess ink. “You’re taking this better than most.”
“The pain?”
“The idea of three men watching you—wanting to fuck you—pardon my French.”
His hand slides lower. When I arch into his touch, he groans.
“Chase—”
“Still need to bandage it.” But his voice has gone gravelly. “Unless you want me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare.”
The machine clicks off. He sets it aside, and suddenly, there’s nothing between us but latex gloves and intention.
“Last chance,” he warns, peeling the gloves off. “Once I touch you?—”
I grab his shirt, pulling him down. “Touch me.”
His hands start at my ribs, just below my bra, mapping my skin like he’s memorizing every inch. When his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts, I arch into his touch.
“So responsive,” he murmurs, taking his time. His fingers trace patterns across my stomach, making my muscles jump.
His hands seem to be everywhere—tangling in my hair, cupping my breasts, sliding between my thighs. And his mouth follows where his hands have been, leaving heat in his wake. He takes his time—tasting, learning, finding spots that make me gasp. When he reaches the waistband of my pants, I’m already trembling.
He kneels, making a show of removing my shoes, sliding denim down my legs inch by torturous inch. His eyes darken at the sight of my black lace panties, already soaked through.
“Planned this, didn’t you?” He nips at my neck. “Wore pretty things, knowing they’d end up torn.”
“Maybe.”
“Gorgeous.” His hands run up my calves and massage my thighs. Everywhere except where I need him most. “Look at you, spread out on my table like my own personal canvas.”
His thumbs trace the edges of my panties, teasing. When I try to move, to get more friction, he holds my hips still with those strong hands.
“Chase.” His name comes out like a plea. “Please.”
“Look at me.” One hand slides higher, thumb finally finding my clit through wet lace. The eye contact as he touches me makes everything more intense, more intimate. “Want to see your face when you fall apart for me.”
His other hand keeps my hips still as he works me through the fabric, building pressure slowly. Every circle of his thumb winds me tighter.
When he finally pushes the lace aside, sliding two fingers into slick heat while maintaining that steady pressure on my clit, I nearly come undone. His fingers are better than I imagined.
I’m close already, embarrassingly so. And every stroke of his fingers gets me closer.
“That’s it, sweetheart.” His voice drops lower. “Show me how much you want it.”
The orgasm hits hard, his name a cry on my lips. But he’s not done. Before I can catch my breath, he’s lifting me onto his table.
“Need to be inside you.” He fumbles with his jeans. “Now.”
“Yes.” I wrap my legs around his waist. “Please.”
He fills me in one hard thrust. The stretch burns perfectly and makes me gasp his name again.
“Fuck.” He stills, breathing hard. “You feel?—”
“Move.”
He does. Each thrust drives me higher and makes me forget everything but this. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, marking me like his ink.
“Mine,” he growls. Then, he corrects himself: “ Ours .”
The thought of belonging to all of them sends me over again. Chase follows with a curse, his hips jerking against mine.
Afterward, he cleans me and carefully bandages the new tattoo. His touches are gentle now.
“Beautiful.” He traces the phoenix’s wing. “It suits you.”
I should feel guilty. Should worry about complications, about Rose’s warnings. Instead, I feel free.
“Thank you.” I touch his face. “For everything.”
His smile turns wicked. “Anytime.”
When I arrive home, I catch glimpses of lights in their windows. I wonder which brother is watching tonight. Find myself hoping it’s all of them.
Rose would call me crazy. Call this dangerous.
But as I slide into bed after another show, I can’t bring myself to care. Let danger come.
I’m done running from what I want.