I don’t know why I’m showing her my bedroom, but it feels like a natural starting point. It’s not like she wouldn’t figure it out, since my window is directly across from hers. Plus, I’m kind of hoping she ends up sleeping with me anyway.
Baby steps.
She takes a peek. I like to keep things simple—no clutter, just the essentials—king-sized bed with a dark gray comforter facing the window, two nightstands and an area rug.
“Nice,” she says.
I lead her down the hall to the guest room that faces the backyard. “And this is your room.”
Pushing the door open, I watch her reaction as she takes in the space.
The room is painted a soft blue-gray, with a queen-sized bed covered in a white comforter. There’s a dresser against one wall and a small desk by the window.
“This set up used to be downstairs,” I explain as she sets her bag on the bed. “But I switched it out with my art studio a few months ago.”
She nods, running her hand over the comforter. “This is perfect, Jax. Thank you.”
“Bathroom’s through there,” I say, pointing to a door on the far wall. “It connects to the hallway, but you can lock both sides for privacy.”
After showing her the rest of the upstairs, including the laundry room, we head back downstairs.
“And now for the pièce de résistance,” I say with theshittiest French accent known to man. Unable to keep the excitement out of my voice, I guide her toward a door off the living room. “My art studio.”
Tall windows let a ton of natural light into the room, while adjustable overhead lights illuminate the space at night.
My drafting table sits in one corner, and shelves filled with sketchbooks, art supplies, and reference books line two of the other walls. Any additional wall space is covered with my designs, some of them framed and others pinned to corkboards.
“Wow,” Sasha says, stepping inside as she takes it all in. “This is so cool.”
Pride swells as she moves around the room. “This is where I do a lot of my sketches for tattoo clients.”
She stops in front of a large framed sketch of an original concept piece for Night Hunters. “I can’t believe you created all this.”
“It’s another happy place,” I admit, watching as she traces her fingers along the edge of my drafting table.
“I can see why.” When she turns to face me, a genuine smile graces her lips.
We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. Feeling that familiar pull, I think about stepping into her, but before I can act on it, her expression changes.
“There’s something I should probably tell you.” Her voice is tight as she starts nervously playing with her ponytail. “The other day, when we were moving equipment into Summit, I saw a black SUV drive past really slow, like someone was staking the place out. They made a couple passes before they disappeared.”
My blood runs cold. “You’re sure about this? It being the same SUV each time?”
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. “I thought I was just being paranoid after what you told me, but...”
“Did you happen to see who was driving?” I ask, pulling out my phone.
“No, the windows were tinted.”
I call Dylan and put the phone on speaker.
He answers on the second ring. “Yo.”
“Hey. I’ve got Sasha with me, and you’re on speaker. She just told me she saw a black SUV with tinted windows circling Summit Studio the other day. Any chance you know where our friends from Vegas are right now?”
“Let me check... According to the last ping as of three hours ago, the burner phone is still in California.”
“You’re sure?” I press, watching Sasha’s face as she listens.
