Evelyn's dream of securing a scholarship to America's top ballet school shattered when her mother was brutally murdered during her teenage years. Determined to make a difference, she became a detective, ready to take on the world. Assigned to invest...
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Four days slipped through Evelyn's fingers quicker than she wanted to admit. Time became a black hole, stealing hours without her noticing. With each day that passed, her certainty grew heavier in her chest like a truth waiting to be spoken, James had been right, Wilson was hiding something. She had only gone to the office once, long enough to hand him the weekly report, and in that short exchange, his smirk and the way his eyes lingered on her skin made her stomach twist. Dislike crawled across her like an unwelcome touch, and hatred rooted itself deeper with every clipped word he spoke. Evelyn's instincts burned; she ached to unmask him, to finally put that smug expression in its place.
For now, she stood inside the tattoo studio, her gaze caught by one of the sketches spread out across Asher's worktable. The air smelled faintly of ink and disinfectant, mingling with the warm musk of leather and faint traces of smoke that clung to the biker's clothes. The scratch of pencil against paper filled the room in a steady rhythm, and Evelyn's eyes roamed greedily over the lines he carved into the page.
"You're standing over me... Again," Asher muttered, his voice flat but carrying a grin she could almost hear. He didn't look up, though she saw the flicker in his silver hair as he bent closer to the page. Caught, heat rushed into her cheeks, blooming wild roses under her skin. She stepped back.
"Why don't you hover over something else and come back when I'm done? I promise I won't sneak off and commit a crime, detective," Asher said, his tone dry but tinged with amusement. His finger lifted in mock accusation, his rings catching the dim light. She couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips.
"Is it strange if I say I trust you?" The biker threw his arms out wide, his hair spilling like liquid silver around his face as he performed a theatrical gasp.
"Sweet heaven, the detective likes me." He pressed a palm to his chest, his eyes going wide. Evelyn's laughter spilled free, warm and unguarded, wrapping around them both. She headed for the studio door, her smile still softening her lips.
"Shh, don't tell anyone," she whispered over her shoulder, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
"It would ruin my reputation." Asher's booming laughter followed her out into the corridor, echoing against the walls like a chorus of unspoken camaraderie. With nothing urgent left to do, Evelyn let her feet carry her aimlessly. Her mission for the day had been to keep an eye on Ash and Ryker, but both men seemed absorbed in their own work. The detective in her longed for movement, so she wandered until the cold kiss of sea air found her. The shoreline stretched before her, the sun hanging low in the sky like melted gold. Its rays skimmed the water, making the waves look like fire. She breathed in the tang of the sea mixed with the sharp bite of frost. The compound buzzed behind her, voices and laughter drifting faintly on the air as she moved further away from the main houses in deeper in to the territory.
