All I know is that right now, everything is shifting. There’s a slight hope building in my chest, slowly growing and telling me that if I were to sate my need to kill by taking out the assholes who mean Kyah harm, then perhaps I could keep her forever. Maybe I won’t need to end her life.

  Then with that murderous need within me finally satisfied, I think about my next steps. There’s blood all over me, coated from my forehead down the front of my clothes, and walking out the front door like this without drawing attention is never going to happen.

  I need to play it smart.

  Then with the afternoon sun still streaming through the front window of High Voltage Ink, I go about my business, trashing the shop. Pushing everything on the counter onto the floor. Upending chairs and smashing the vials of ink.

  With any luck, it’s going to look like a robbery gone bad.

  My hood shields me from the cameras as I work, and I cringe knowing I got way too carried away before I sank that tattoo gun into the side of Crew’s throat. There’s a possibility my face was captured on the security cameras, and I’m going to have to check that out, but first, I need to scrub this place clean of fingerprints.

  I’ve had my sleeves down over my hands the whole time, but I’m not risking it. No chance in hell.

  Grabbing a few alcohol wipes, I get busy wiping over the handle of the tattoo gun and anywhere I’ve touched. Then despite knowing that one look in the camera feed will show that this was anything but a random robbery gone wrong, it’s enough to throw the cops off course and leave them scratching their heads. At least for a little while. Besides, the feds know damn well who Crew Ledger is and exactly which honey pots he’s got his fingers in. It won’t take them long to make assumptions and connect this back to his brother.

  As for me, I’ll be as free as a bird to continue watching over Kyah.

  And with that, I push out the back door of High Voltage Ink, keeping my head down as a wicked grin stretches across my face.

  God, that felt too fucking good, and even if I got caught, that rush was more than worth it, even now being able to feel my cum spreading through my pants. I give it five shiny fucking stars. Definitely recommend.

  15

  KYAH

  I suck in a sharp hiss of pain as my fingers poke my bruised jaw, doing what I can to try and cover up Crew’s handiwork with concealer.

  I’ve been up all night just staring at my ceiling, trying to convince myself not to quit my job just so I can avoid having to see him ever again. I still can’t believe it. I don’t know whether to focus on the shock or the betrayal, but most of all, I’m trying not to think about the way he’s going to grovel the second I walk into the shop.

  No matter how I look at this, it’s going to suck. Hell, I still can’t believe it happened. Crew was supposed to be the one person who’d never hurt me, and now . . . I have no idea what he’s supposed to be to me. Dead sounds right though.

  Today is going to be hell. He’s kidding himself if he thinks I’m going to just roll over and forget it ever happened. I’m not usually very chatty about my personal life, but soon enough, Big Jim is going to figure out something happened between us. If he can’t get answers out of Crew by force, he's bound to see for himself when he goes over the security feed, and when that happens, all hell is going to break loose for Crew. He’s going to want to run fast. Hell, and that’s just Big Jim. I can only imagine what will happen once Viper finds out, and he will. Viper makes it his business to know this kind of shit, that’s how he’s kept his position for so long. He’s dangerous like that.

  Staring at my face in my bathroom mirror, I decide it’s good enough to face the day. I’m not one to go cheap when it comes to makeup, so it should last me until I’m standing in this same spot twelve hours from now. At least, I hope. I don’t think I can handle Big Jim finding out just yet. He’ll give me that disapproving father look and demand answers, and I’m almost certain the moment he does, I’ll burst into tears.

  After grabbing my phone, keys, and wallet, I spy the monster dildo hanging above my front door like a fucking mistletoe and can’t wipe the grin off my face as I grab the door handle and yank it open. I come to an abrupt stop, finding Alex hovering in his open doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of workout shorts with that deliciously toned torso on display. I swear, this guy must spend every spare minute of his life working out.

  “Morning,” he purrs, that thick, rich tone filling the narrow hallway as I bite my lip and turn my back, pulling my door closed behind me.

  “Morning to you too,” I murmur, glancing back over my shoulder and seeing the way his gaze roams over my body, stopping at my ass with a deep hunger. His eyes lazily trail back up until they meet mine, and the smirk resting across his lips is enough to make my knees weak. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Alex’s grin widens, his eyes expressing everything he’s not saying out loud. Though he doesn’t need to voice his comment, I hear it loud and clear.

  Finally getting the door locked, I turn around, stepping into him, barely able to refrain from resting my hand against his bare chest. “You know,” I start, tilting my chin and gazing up at him, lowering my voice to a flirty whisper. “There seems to be a monster-sized dildo suction cupped to the wall above my door, and something tells me you’re not about to help me get it down any time soon. But here’s the problem. You know, that just so happens to be my favorite one, and I was just curious what you expect a girl to do when she’s lying in bed getting all hot and heavy and her new favorite toy is so far out of reach?”

  Alex groans low, his eyes flaming like molten lava, and he inches away from me as though he doesn’t trust himself not to toss me over his shoulder, barge through my door, and show me just how much I don’t need the mistletoe monster cock dangling from my wall.

  He drags a hand down his face, visibly needing a moment to compose himself, especially now that there’s a very large bulge appearing in the front of his workout shorts. God, I wonder if he’s the type to let me drop to my knees and take him in my mouth right here in the middle of the hallway. “Don’t you need to be getting to work?” he questions, his voice coming out all high and squeaky.

  I laugh, never so proud of myself in my whole damn life.

  My gaze trails down his body, making a point of looking at his very erect junk. “Between you, me, and your fist, one of us needs to be getting to work.”

  Alex grunts and adjusts himself as though that could possibly help the situation. Then ignoring the obvious fire poker staring right at me, he meets my stare. “You need me to walk you to work?”

  I shake my head, my cheeks flushing at the kind thought, even now while he’s probably very uncomfortable and dying to get his hand down his pants to work out his frustrations. “You don’t think I can handle myself?” I ask.

  “Mace, I know damn well you can handle yourself,” he tells me. “But that’s not going to stop me from wanting to walk you to work.”

  I give him a small smile. “I think you have other things you need to be dealing with right now,” I tell him. “But if you’re a good boy and agree to walk me home after I get off work, I might just let you think about me while you sort yourself out.”

  Alex laughs and steps into me, reaching around me and curling a tight fist around my hair before gently pulling, forcing my chin up as his lips hover just above mine, stealing the breath right out of my lungs. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mace,” he murmurs in that deep, thick tone, his chest rumbling against mine as I feel his hardness against my waist.

  And just like that, he’s gone, and his door closes between us, leaving me panting in the hallway.

  I blow out a heavy breath, needing a minute to sort myself out. There’s just something about my new sexy neighbor. I’ve never felt so intrigued by someone in my whole life.

  Everything about him draws me in. I’m so desperate to know who he is, to know what it’s like to feel his hands caressing my body, to feel the way he’d stretch me, to know how he tastes. But more than that, I want to know what it feels like to fall for him, to be the only woman he ever wants to look at.

  Shit. I’m definitely getting in over my head.

  Realizing I’ve been standing in the hall, gawking after him for way too long, I get my ass moving. Scrambling through the hall and down the stairs, I race out into the fresh Brooklyn morning. The second I’m hit in the face by the cool spring breeze, I finally feel my head starting to clear.

  Mr. Alex . . . wait. I don’t know his last name. How am I supposed to curse him and his wicked charm if I don’t know his last name? Shit. I’m going to have to fix that soon. Though, in order to do that, I’m going to have to get close to him again, and I don’t know just how much longer I can resist him. Though, it’s becoming extremely evident that his self-control is a lot better than mine. Hell, at this point, I think it’s safe to say that I don’t have any at all.

  As I walk along the street, I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and call Nat, listening to all her insane updates about her new bar friend, Sullivan, and the whole time I gape, never having known Nat to go back for seconds with the same guy, no matter how well he puts it down. Especially considering that it’s barely been a little over twenty-four hours since she met the guy.

  He must have really blown her mind.

  I ooh and ahh at all the appropriate times as she tells me everything I need to know about this guy, but as I turn the final corner and peer down the street toward High Voltage Ink, I come to a stop.

  People barge around me, muttering under their breaths and telling me to get out of the fucking way, but all I can do is stare at the array of cop cars lining the street and the police tape sectioning off High Voltage Ink.

  “What in the ever-loving fuck?” I breathe, taking in the crowd of people hovering around the shop, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

  “Ky?” Nat says, clearly picking up on the confusion in my tone. “You good?”

  “I, umm . . . don’t know. I have to go,” I tell her, picking up my pace and all but storming down the street. “Something is going on at High Voltage Ink.”

  “Shit, okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I mutter something before ending the call, but I can’t really be sure what the hell I said, all that matters is the shop. Shit. What if something happened to it? But what could bring all these cops here and force them to use the police tape? Unless it’s some kind of structural damage and they’re concerned about the safety of the public getting too close.

  Crap. I hope it’s not because that would mean Big Jim needs to close the doors while he gets it fixed, and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to afford my rent if I can’t work for a few weeks. Though, I’m sure Viper wouldn’t mind allowing me to set up a little studio in the back of his clubhouse to keep working on his men. At least twelve of the Grim Reapers members are ongoing clients. I’m sure if I’m allowed to quickly duck inside High Voltage Ink and grab my things, I’ll be able to figure something out.

  Barging through all the people, I finally get a front-row view of the chaos unfolding at High Voltage Ink and realize there’s a shitload more cops here than I’d originally assumed. There are too many of them hovering out front to be able to see through the window, but as I scan the grim expressions on their faces, my heart races.

  A familiar black jacket catches my eye, and I find Big Jim talking to a few of the cops. His head is down, and while he looks frustrated and worked up, he also looks devastated. His voice rises over the crowd, and it's clear their conversation is getting heated, so I grab the police tape and lift it over my head. “Jim,” I call out, striding toward them as a cop reaches for me, probably assuming I’m just some eager bystander looking for information.

  Big Jim’s gaze snaps toward me, and he quickly waves off the cop, relief flashing in his eyes. “She’s with me,” he says, and the cop immediately backs off as I walk right into Jim, stopping barely an inch before him.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I demand, keeping my voice hushed as I try to peer around the bodies blocking the view through the windows.

  “Fuck, Ky. I . . . shit,” he breathes, putting a hand on my shoulder before pulling away from the storefront to where it’s a little more private. I peer up at him, not liking the tone in his voice, and as I meet his eyes, I see how broken he is. “I don’t know how to tell you this, kid,” he continues. “But the store was broken into last night and—”

  I gasp, cutting him off, my eyes going wide. “Shit. Really? Don’t tell me they’ve ransacked the place.”

  “No, well . . . yes. They have, but that’s not the issue, it’s . . .”

  Big Jim pauses, his brows creasing, and with every second that passes, my heart races a little bit faster. “What is it?” I ask, my tone so low it’s a miracle he can even hear me. “You’re starting to scare me.”

  “It’s Crew, Kyah,” he finally says. “He was here during the break-in, and from what we can tell, he tried to fight them off and . . . fuck. Ky, I’m sorry. He didn’t make it.”

  “What?” I question, my back stiffening as my brows furrow, confusion pulsing through my veins. “What do you mean he didn’t make it? I just spoke to Crew yesterday. He was fine. Well, drunk out of his mind and being a complete asshole, but he was fine.”

  Jim shakes his head, and the devastation clouding his gaze makes it hard to breathe. “I’m sorry, Ky,” he says as I desperately try to wrap my head around what he’s saying. “Crew’s gone. Whoever broke in trashed the place and then killed Crew. He bled out trying to save our shop.”

  I start to heave, unable to draw in a full breath. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “No. I just talked to him yesterday. He can’t be gone.”

  Panic begins pulsing through my veins, infecting me like poison and weighing me down until I find myself on my knees, gasping for air. My throat starts to close up, and my mouth goes dry as I realize my face is soaking wet. Am I crying? I don’t know. I’m too numb to figure it out.

  How could he just be gone?

  I know things were rocky between us, and I was determined to make him suffer for the hell he put me through over the last few days, but I could never have wished for this. Shit, maybe I did. I told him he was dead to me, and now . . . fuck. What were my very last words to him?

  “You don’t fucking love me, Crew. You want to own me. I’m nothing but a fucking possession to you, and letting you touch me, letting you fuck me . . . I’ve never regretted anything more. So hear me now, Crew—we’re done. You’ll never fucking touch me again.”

  Shit. He was drunk and reckless, probably wallowing in self-loathing after almost breaking my jaw, and then suddenly he was dying. He was all alone, thinking I hated him, thinking I wanted him dead.

  Fuck. How can I ever forgive myself? He died thinking the worst, and now he will never have the chance to make it up to me.

  Bits and pieces of our fight from yesterday come swarming back. I was horrible to him, but he was worse. How could that be the last conversation we ever had? After all of the good times we spent together, after the mind-blowing night we shared, how can it just be over?

  For so long, Crew was my salvation. I couldn’t have made it through those shitty times without him forcing a smile across my face. And now this. Gone . . . just gone.

  Feeling a strong hand wrap around my arm, I look up into Big Jim’s dark eyes. He pulls me up off the dirty ground and into the warmth of his arms, holding me to his chest. “It’s going to be okay, Ky,” he murmurs. “Whatever happened between you two, he knew you loved him in your own way.”

  “We had a fight,” I say, barely able to get the words out over the lump in my throat.

  “I know. He called me and told me what happened,” he says. “He didn’t know how to make it right, and honestly, I don’t know if it would have even been possible. Hell, I know I wasn’t about to make it easy for him. He was going to head out for a few weeks to give you some space, and . . . that’s the last I heard from him.”

  I nod, not really sure what to say.

  “We’re gonna get who did this, Ky,” he promises. “We won’t allow this to go unpunished.”

  My heart breaks, agony gripping hold and refusing to release me, and before I know it, I’m being escorted aside by two cops, leading me in front of the shop window and asking a bunch of questions I don’t know how to answer. Only I can’t focus on what’s being asked as from here, I have the perfect view into the shop, my gaze lingering on the motionless body beneath the white sheet and the blood splatters across Big Jim’s station.

  My stomach clenches, and I barely manage to hold on to my breakfast.

  The tears continue streaming down my face, and as I look around the shop, I remember the security camera in each of the corners. “Can . . . Can you use the security feed to find out who did this?” I ask.

  “Wish we could,” the cop closest to me says, pressing his lips into a hard line. “Seems your boss hasn’t paid the security company in over six months, and they cut off services. Those cameras are useless.”

  “Shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he says.

  Stepping away from the cop, I turn away from the window, not able to handle the sight in my peripheral vision, and as I wipe my watery eyes on the back of my arm, I notice a familiar face hidden out behind the crowd, looking toward High Voltage Ink as though he were watching some kind of movie. His big arms are crossed over his chest and his gaze is narrowed, clearly deep in thought.

  Glancing back toward the cop, I hold his stare to keep from allowing my gaze to wander. “Are we done here?” I ask, the longer I wait, the more antsy I become, my hands balling into fists at my side.

  “Yes, I believe so,” he says. “Unless you have anything more to add.”

  I shake my head. “No, that’s everything,” I say before giving a polite nod and striding toward the crowd and away from High Voltage Ink.