17. Zane
17
ZANE
I spent this morning with my brothers, creeping out Evie’s back door like teenagers, trying not to wake the girls. Rick checks for Mrs. Wilson—our neighbor has a sixth sense about activities on our street.
We all know Evie’s worry about appearances is unnecessary. This town’s seen stranger things than three brothers leaving a woman’s house at sunrise.
Still, the smile won’t leave my face during the ride to the gallery. Last night changed everything. Nothing will ever be the same again.
By the time I get to the gallery, Chase is conspicuously absent. It’s not surprising after last night—none of us got much sleep. Rick just rolls his eyes when I walk in.
“Chase called in. Says he ‘doesn’t think he can make it.’” The air quotes are audible. “You’ll have to cover his morning consultation.”
“How many are there?”
“Just one.”
Covering for my brother isn’t my usual role, but the smile won’t leave my face anyway.
The client cancels ten minutes after I arrive—something about a family emergency. Fine by me. Gives me time to reflect while pretending to review Chase’s designs, memories of Evie between us still fresh in my mind.
The bell over the door chimes around eleven. I look up to find a woman I almost don’t recognize. Rose usually dresses like she’s heading to court—sharp suits and sharper heels. Today, she’s in jeans and a loose top that shows smooth shoulders.
“Never figured you for the ink type,” I say by way of greeting.
“First time for everything.” She studies the flash art on my wall. “Evie says Chase is good with delicate work.”
That gets my attention. Rose is Evie’s closest friend, but we know almost nothing about her. Seems strange now that I think about it.
“Oh, Chase isn’t in today, but I’m as delicate as my brother—I promise.”
“Hmm. Well, I’d have to see some samples of your past work before I allow you to touch my skin,” she says, taking a seat across from me.
“That’d be no problem.” I whip out my phone and let her see the catalog of informal tattoos I’ve created for friends.
She studies them carefully. “This isn’t so bad. Why don’t you work as an artist more often?”
I shrug, grinning. “I wasn’t born for the nine-to-five lifestyle. I like doing a little bit of everything—helping Rick out with management, stepping in when Chase needs a day off…less responsibility and more freedom.”
She nods slowly but not in agreement. More like she’s judging.
“Oh, don’t judge me.”
“Because you’re the spoiled brother who likes to sit around and do nothing while your older brothers bring home their big catch every night, right?”
I laugh. “You’re not far from the truth, but to be fair, I do cook their catches. So, I’m not completely useless. What did you have in mind? For your tattoo.”
She hands me back my phone and pulls hers out to show me a simple design—a constellation pattern similar to one of Evie’s pieces, but with different stars.
“Meaningful coordinates?” I ask, already sketching variations.
“Something like that. Mind if we start today?”
I’m setting up my machine when Draven bursts in, tension rolling off him in waves. Even in crisis mode, he cuts an impressive figure—our ex-military friend never quite lost that soldier’s bearing.
“We’ve got trouble at The Den,” he announces without preamble.
“When don’t we?” But I notice how his eyes catch on Rose, lingering a moment too long.
“Basement’s flooding. Sarah’s handling crowd control, but…” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “We need owner approval for repairs.”
I sigh. The bar and restaurant were Rick’s idea—legitimate businesses to launder club money through. But none of us brothers wanted the daily headaches of running them. Tank knew what he was doing when he brought Draven in fresh from his discharge. Man’s been managing our ventures ever since.
“That’s why we pay you the big bucks,” I remind him. “To handle this stuff.”
“Yeah, well, your hands-off approach is biting us today. Where’s Rick?”
“Club business.” I turn back to my setup. “Forward the paperwork, and he’ll sign when he’s back.”
Draven notices Rose then, really notices her. Something shifts in his expression. “Sorry for interrupting. I didn’t realize you had a client.” Then he takes a close look at her.
“Morning.” Her voice comes out softer than usual. Interesting.
Draven straightens. “Rose, right? Evie’s friend? You look almost unrecognizable.”
“And you’re Draven.” She tucks hair behind her ear—a nervous gesture I’ve never seen from her. “Owen’s father.”
The way they’re looking at each other makes me feel like I’m intruding in my own gallery.
“I am—the lucky dad.” He moves closer, studying my sketch. “That’s beautiful work. Orion’s Belt?”
“Good eye.” She sounds impressed. “Most people don’t recognize constellations.”
“Did a lot of navigation training in the service. Stars were reliable friends on long nights.”
I pretend to focus on my machine while they talk. There’s something happening here—the tough guy who helps run our MC and this mysterious woman who appeared in town with Evie.
“How long have you known Evie?” Draven asks casually.
Rose’s smile dims slightly. “Met her at a difficult time. Sometimes people just…connect, you know?”
“Yeah.” His voice softens. “Tank used to say that about the club. Right people find each other when they need it most.”
“Who’s Tank?”
“An old friend. We lost him years ago.”
Tank was the president of the Black Wolves Club, which Teller now leads. He died a long time ago, but we haven’t forgotten him, especially because he left behind a pregnant wife—Jamie. He introduced Draven to us and said he was the perfect man to manage our businesses.
“It sounds like he was a great guy.”
The basement alarm on Draven’s phone starts beeping. “He was…” He sighs. “Duty calls.”
“Always does.”
“Maybe we’ll see each other around?” Draven suggests. “Coffee or…”
“I’d like that.”
After he leaves, I raise an eyebrow at Rose. “Coffee, huh?”
“Just focus on your art.” But her cheeks flush slightly. “This isn’t going to hurt too much, right?”
I get to work. As I outline the stars on her shoulder, she tells me how she and Evie met and also how she helped Evie start fresh in Wolf Pike.
“She needed a friend,” Rose says simply. “Sometimes that’s enough—plus, I like to travel and experience new things. It only made sense that I came with her. Evie and her girls have been through so much. I couldn’t stand not being close to them.”
I think about Tank saying similar things about helping lost people.
“Tank would have liked you,” I tell her. “He had a way of knowing which people belonged in our world.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I wish I’d met him. Looks like he made this town better.”
“Best president the Black Wolves ever had.” I wipe excess ink from her skin. “Teller’s doing right by his memory, though.”
My phone buzzes. Evie is probably checking in. But when I glance at it, it’s Draven with repair estimates.
I finish the last star. “Want to see?”
Rose examines her shoulder in the mirror. Constellation points perfectly against her skin. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
As she’s leaving, Draven comes back, presumably to handle more flood issues. Their eyes meet briefly, something unspoken passing between them.
I send the repair estimates to Rick without reading them.
The rest of the morning passes in a haze of regular clients and gallery business. But I keep thinking about connections—how Tank brought Draven to us, how Evie brought Rose into our world, how some people just fit without explanation.
Makes me wonder what other changes are coming to Wolf Pike.
And whether we’re ready for them.