Chapter 8
Eve
I’m woken up in the morning by yelling coming from the spare bedroom – the spare room that I put Roman in just the day before.
After we left the coffee shop, we went to his hotel so he could pack his things and check out – something the hotel manager was deeply saddened by – before heading to my house.
He immediately made himself at home, claiming Terry as his cat and stealing my favorite couch blanket to lay down and watch the news where we saw his face plastered over and over again.
It had me contemplating the murder I threatened him with much more than what is socially acceptable.
Now, the sun has just broken over the horizon and he’s in the room next to mine yelling for some ungodly reason and here I am trying to decide if I want to bludgeon him with a heel or tie a scarf around his neck. I could bury him in my garden out back. Wylder would help. No one would ever know…
I hear his voice rise again and scream into my pillow. What the hell is so important this early in the fucking morning?
Getting up, I pad over to the shared wall and press my ear firmly against it. I love my old house, but I’ve always hated how thin the walls were. It means I can always hear Abel playing video games late at night. Although, it is coming in handy right now.
“Listen, man, you need to get to Denver right now!” He’s silent for a minute before scoffing. “I can’t explain over the phone, just get here!”
Who is he talking to?
“No, my lawyer is fine and I’m sure I’ll be able to get off, that’s not the problem!”
I can hear him seething even through a wall and I can’t help but chuckle at his clear aggravation. Something about a man getting angry just makes me feel all giddy inside.
“Cuba? What the hell is in Cuba?”
First New York, now Denver, and then Cuba? Roman’s boss is a busy one – assuming that’s his boss he’s talking to.
“Listen, I don’t give a fuck if Wade is in Cuba. He’s framing me for a mass murder in our own club, and I need you here! So, get here, cugino!”
I hear something slamming in his room along with Roman’s muffled scream. Huh, I guess the call is over, leaving my mind spinning with too many questions for me to go back to sleep anytime soon.
Apparently, Roman knows who’s responsible for the killings at the club. He left that out and I need to figure out why.
I hurry over to my closet and slip on some spandex shorts paired with a long T-shirt, my typical work from home clothes, before grabbing a spare sketchbook and flying down the stairs.
After my homemade latte is in my favorite cup, I slide out the backdoor and walk a short distance to my shed in the backyard.
I had it delivered the day after I bought the house and immediately decorated it.
Half of the roof is one big skylight and one of the walls is covered in windows, letting in the perfect amount of light during the day and allowing me to admire the stars at night.
Abel has his own little space here as well so we can hang out together while I work.
I wanted somewhere to hold my art that wasn’t in the house, since this is a more private part of myself.
Going to art school went out the window pretty quickly when I found out I was pregnant at nineteen.
I knew I needed something that could financially support me and my child, and even though it was beyond stressful, I did it.
I lived in a women’s shelter not too far from the college and worked two jobs while another girl at the shelter watched Abel until after I got my bachelor’s degree and a local attorney’s office took me on as a legal aid.
From there, I saved up and got us a small apartment that lasted until I finished law school and moved to Denver to work at Sawyer’s firm.
I graduated top of my class – but my love for art never diminished.
Instead, it grew to be the outlet I used when cases were aggravating, tiring, or even too exhilarating for me to properly comprehend. Art let me work through each and every emotion at my own pace and when I was ready, I could return to the case with a clearer head and a steady hand.
That’s what I need this morning. This case is more important than any other I’d taken on and I can’t afford to fuck it up.
Roman is confusing. He’s too attractive for his own good with his blood red hair, his chiseled jaw and his tattooed neck. His darkness thrums like a beacon, beckoning me closer with each beat of his heart and every blink of his light blue eyes. It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous.
Shaking my head, I take a sip of my coffee and then set up my easel and a few putty erasers.
I think I want to work with charcoal today, it captures the darkness better than anything.
After getting out my newest charcoal set, the one that cost me way more than I will ever willingly admit, I get to work. The first stroke of the black coal against the bright white of the canvas paper sends a shot of adrenaline through my blood.
This is what I live for.
Time flies by, the early morning sun moving quickly through the windowpane as my hands fly over the canvas.
My fingertips get stained charcoal black as I smudge different lines together, shading as I go to blur the image just a little bit, a mirror image of the darkness I see inside the man staying in my spare bedroom.
I don’t know how long I sit on my stool, making sure I get the angles just right, before I hear a throat clearing behind me.
“This is different. You don’t usually do portraits.”
Taking a step back, I look at the outline of Roman standing in the middle of the darkness, the swirls of black mixing into the hints of light blue I have shining through his exposed ribs – the same shade of blue as his eyes and the only color on the entire drawing.
“It felt right.”
I throw a sheet over Roman’s drawn figure, hiding it from view. Portraits are actually a specialty of mine, but Wylder doesn’t know that. No one does.
I’ve only done portraits of the people that I care about. There’s only been four portraits ever in existence – now five – and no one but me has ever laid eyes on them.
Turning toward Wylder, I wipe my hands on my shirt and run over to him, throwing my arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. “I missed you so much! How was your trip? How are David and Brenda?”
He laughs, squeezing me back just as tight before placing me back down on the ground. His arms stay wrapped around me, though, and I let them. It’s Wylder.
“They’re good. They’re going to come by for the cookout this weekend and mom said she’ll bring some of her famous banana pudding since you loved it so much last time.”
My mouth almost waters just at the mention of Brenda’s banana pudding. I’ve known Wylder’s parents for over a year now but somehow hadn’t tasted her James family dessert until Wylder’s birthday a few months ago. Now, I’d fight him for it – and win.
“And your newest niece?”
Wylder’s eyes get soft at the mention of his brother’s newborn daughter and the reason for his impromptu trip across the state. “She’s just the cutest thing, Evie. All chunky and adorable. Even her cries are cute.”
Wylder gushing about how cute his niece is sends my ovaries into overdrive. I swear if I was willing to settle down and get off my birth control, this man would have given Abel half a dozen little siblings by now.
It’s not like he hasn’t hinted at being exclusive, and I feel bad because I’m basically dragging him along…but I just can’t. I can’t help but feel like I still have open doors from ten years ago and I don’t know if they’ll ever be closed.
It’s not fair to him – or me.
“Eve, who the hell is this?”
I look around Wylder’s massive frame to see Roman standing in the doorway of my shed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Wyld’s back.
Wylder spins around, pushing me back behind him in a protective move that’s no doubt second nature to him from his time in the military. “Better question is, who the hell are you?”
I peak around Wylder, again, to see Roman taking a step forward. “I’m Roman, I’m staying with Eve. Still doesn’t answer who the hell you are.”
I can practically feel Wylder’s body vibrating with tension in front of me. “I’m Wylder, I’m Evie’s next-door neighbor.”
Roman’s head tilts to the side, “Being her next-door neighbor means you can have your arms wrapped around her like that?”
I shoot out from around Wyld and slide between the two men obviously trying to show dominance in my she-shed when I could no doubt have them both on their knees in two seconds flat.
“Enough! Roman, this is Wylder. He’s my neighbor and we’re very good friends. Wylder, this is Roman. He’s my client for a case I’m working on. He has to stay with me per one egomaniacal judge’s orders.”
Roman shoots me a look before smirking to Wylder, “Way to downplay the fact that you sucked the gum off my tongue last night, princess.”
My eyes widen and I shove Roman in the chest. “Roman!”
Wylder and I may not be together, but I know how he feels about me, and I don’t want to purposefully hurt him.
“Good for you. It’s my cock she’ll be sucking the cum off of tonight, so have fun listening in on that while you rut into your pillow like a mutt left out in the cold.”
My face turns red and my thighs clench together at the instant image that puts into my mind, and the image of immediate jealousy that crosses Roman’s face when Wylder finishes his sentence.
I don’t correct him, though, because we both know he’s staying over.
He’s been gone for three days, and Abel’s gone to camp.
Usually when we have the house to ourselves that means we can get a little…
kinkier than normal. We love those days.
Wylder looks down at me, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer. “Why does he have to stay with you? You’re a defense attorney, Evie. What’s he accused of?”
I nibble on my bottom lip, my eyes looking anywhere but at Wylder. I know he isn’t going to like the answer.
He decides to stop waiting for me to answer him and asks Roman. “What is it? What are you accused of doing, huh, Roman?”
Roman doesn’t miss a beat. “Mass murder.”
I hear Wylder’s inhale, and he squeezes my hand tightly in his. “The judge is making him stay with you? Does he want you to be killed, too?”
“Hey! I didn’t do it!”
“That’s what they all say!” Wyld snaps his reply at Roman before turning back to me, “I’m staying with you until he leaves. What if Abel gets back before the trial? What are you going to do then?”
I shrug. “Abel’s gone on his Scout retreat for two weeks. That should be plenty of time for things to…die down.”
I see Roman waving his hands out the corner of my eye, “Wait, wait, wait. Who the hell is Abel?”
I sigh, shooting a dead look up at Wylder before looking back at Roman. “Abel’s my son. He has the room at the other end of the hall, the one I told you not to fuck with, and he’s gone for the next two weeks, or I wouldn’t have allowed you into my house.”
Roman’s eyes go wide, and he takes a step back, a step that looks like it was completely involuntary. “How old is your son, Eve?”
I squish my face up in confusion. “Um…nine – nine and a half if you ask him - why?”
Roman is quiet for a moment, his eyes fluttering as if he was thinking about something really hard. He doesn’t answer me, though. His eyes dull and his face flattens into something completely unreadable. “I don’t feel well, I’m going to go lay down.”
He turns and practically runs inside, leaving both me and Wylder to stare after him.
“Just bring your stuff up to my room, Wyld. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long two weeks. And good job, you did well.”
He snorts as he follows me in, “Not my first rodeo, Evie.”