“It’s my office,” she shot back, her voice and glare both sharp as hell. “You can still knock.”
“Apparently you don’t pay attention when someone does knock, so what’s the point?”
I picked up a little stuffed opossum. The place looked more like her bedroom than a workspace—a plush black fur rug covered the floor and a large, dark wooden desk stretched along two walls. A mini fridge and a shelf crammed with decorations took up the other side. Disco skulls, a Bedazzled knife, candles—it was all Evie and nothing like the dirty motorcycle shop only steps away.
“I need to know what you’ve found on the guy from last week. He’s still stealing from Dimitri and he won’t stop bothering us about it,” I said, crossing my arms, knowing Dimitri was getting impatient. A respectful client of ours—while he wasn’t as powerful or rich as some of the drug lords around the city, he ran a growing business of stealing high-priced cars and we liked him.We were usually quick to help him, but the guys stealing his cars this time were a little better at staying hidden. “And I need any info you can dig up on someone named Anderson. Apparently, he’s got ties to Cross. Ormight, at the very least. We aren’t sure who he’s working with.”
She spun around in her chair, pinning me with those sharp blue eyes. “You think I can find out everything with one random name and a vague connection?”
“Yes.” I met her gaze, unflinching.
“Not happening,Ace. Maybe if you did your job better, you’d find more out before barging in here and asking me to work miracles. As for last week’s guy, I already told Hero and Mason where he’s hanging out. They’re tracking him down now. It might take a day or two to actually pick him up though, because he is a busy man.”
“Great, good work,” I said, the sarcasm in my voice not matching how proud of her I actually was. “Now do all your supersmart computer nerd stuff again and hunt Anderson down. Someone came up to Rook asking about him. We need to know who he is before he ambushes one of us again.”
“And I need more to go on. Is that a last name? I can’t find a ghost.” She huffed, swinging back to her computer, and the same burst of angry, jealous rage clawed at my chest. Not only because she turned back to her computer so quickly—though, yeah, that, too—but because she could shut me out so easily. Not only was I pathetic, I had lost my mind.
“Just please get it done.”
I glanced at the screen in front of her, catching some sort of search engine with a picture of a cult on the homepage. I could only imagine what weird shit Evie searched on the internet, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ask more about this one.
For all I knew, these candles and disco skulls weren’t decorations, and she was in here learning how to do a séance or some other type of spooky shit. She could tell me it was all the foundation for how she ruins my life so effortlessly and I would believe her.
“If I have time, I’ll look into it.”
“Why? What else do you have going on? Didn’t your boyfriend break up with you last night?” I asked, my lips pursing together in a hard smile.
She spun on me, the blinding hatred painting her face as she screamed, “Get out. You asshole, get out!”
Before I could blink, she grabbed one of the disco skulls and hurled it at me. I ducked just in time, fragments scattering like deadly confetti as it shattered against the door.
A strange mix of guilt and satisfaction settled in my chest. I knew I should stop pushing her, but antagonizing Evie was the only way I knew how to deal with the fact she was all I could think about.
Every moment of the day, I was either fighting with her, laughing with her, or imagining what it would be like to be hers.
So this? This would be the closest I’d ever get to having her.
As I shut the door, I heard her mutter a string of curses, and I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my lips. Maybe I needed to stop, but I didn’t want to.
If this was all I’d ever get of Evie—the fights, the screaming, the chaos—I’d take it. I’d take every last deadly disco skull.
Chapter 3
Evie
The worst thing about Aiden wasn’t that he wrecked my relationships.
Or my days.
Or even my entire perception of men as a species.
No, the worst thing about Aiden was that he could do all of it—turn my life into a frustrating, emotionally chaotic, completely unhinged mess—and never seem to care.
Like, ever.
Even a full day after helping get me dumped, he didn’t care.
No guilty expression. No flicker of remorse. Nothing. Just the occasional glance in my direction to scowl at me like I was the problem.
