PROLOGUE
“MA’AM, ARE YOU LISTENING to what I’m saying to you?”
I blink slowly, tipping my head just slightly at the police officer speaking to me. He’s got a notepad in his beefy hand and eyes that are so dark they could almost be black and yet ... I find him weak - boyish, not someone I’d want on my side if I was in some sort of trouble, that’s for sure. Poor guy, perhaps he got picked on as a child and this was his way of regaining control?
When did I become so judgy?
After all, I am the one in a police station after being arrested for arson.
They’re wrong, though. I didn’t do it.
I know just who aimed the blame at me—that good-for-nothing, pain in the ass biker that took over my life, the garage next door, and stole all my sanity. He thinks he’s winning the war by pinning this on me, but he’ll come to find out, I can play a whole lot harder.
God damned bikers.
The cops might be scared of him. I certainly am not.
“I’m listening to you, sir,” I say, my eyes all doe like and my lashes fluttering as I blink innocently. “I just don’t understand why you think I had something to do with this.”
“Ah, Cash Riggs reported you, said he saw you light the fire in his garage. This was confirmed by two other members.”
That motherfucker.
“Firstly, with a name like Cash Riggs I’m surprised anybody is taking him seriously, and, secondly, I’d never enter that garage. Have you any idea what goes on in there?”
The officer, who I can see is named Billy, narrows his eyes. “I’m unsure what you mean, miss.”
I lean forward, letting my eyes dart from left to right before focusing on him. “A lot of sex, officer. So much of it, that I’m not sure how they’re even walking with the amount of STDs they’re sharing around in there. Don’t get me started on the alcohol, and drugs ...”
“Drugs?” Billy’s eyes widen.
I nod ferociously. “You don’t think bikers are just fixing cars in that garage, do you? Gosh, no. They’re selling drugs. Heaps of them. To my customers.”
Probably not true, but it wasn’t true that I started that stupid fire, either, yet here I am.
He watched me get dragged away by those police officers, with hate in his eyes. He thinks I did it, but deep down I’m certain he knows I didn’t.
Revenge is bittersweet.
Riggs should have been more careful who he messed with.
“Have you any proof of these transactions?” Billy asks.
“I do not, just as you have no proof I went in there and lit that fire. Don’t you know that Wildflowers is the best café in town? I wouldn’t risk it all to light that dumpster on fire.”
“Cash Riggs is sure you were the one he saw do it.”
“Cash Riggs is a liar, and his parents clearly hated him, you know ... giving him that name and all.”
“His name is of no concern to me, what does concern me is that you are being accused of arson. Did you light that garage up? You tell me the truth and you might get away with a lighter sentence.”
I cross my arms. “I could light my place on fire and say he did it, too. Without proof, it’s hearsay. Is there evidence of me leaving that scene? Camera footage? Something you can hold me on, because I can assure you, Officer Billy, that I was not there.”
“We’re currently investigating and I’m sure once we find evidence ...”
“Once you find it? So you don’t have any?”
He twitches nervously. “Not at this stage, no.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Cash Riggs hates me, and he’ll do anything he can to get me out of that space we so happen to share. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone and they’ll tell you. I’m not starting a war here, sir, I’m just trying to keep out of one.”
God, I wonder if there is a medal for lying? I think I’d take gold.
“We’ll look into it. Until then, you’re to stay away from Cash Riggs. You aren’t to go anywhere near his garage, and if we see you interacting with him, it’ll look bad on your behalf. Don’t go anywhere, Evelina, we’re not finished investigating you. We have no evidence to hold you, so you may go home, but the second we find some ...”
“You won’t,” I mutter. “I promise you, you won’t.”
Cash Riggs will pay for this. He thinks he’s winning, but he’s sadly mistaken. I own that space, and nothing or no one is going to chase me out of it.
He thought I was playing hard before.
He’s got another thing coming.
It’s war.
1
A FEW MONTHS EARLIER
“EVE!”
I roll my eyes at the sound of my mother shrieking through my café. Thankfully there is nobody here, because if we were open, they’d surely be scared away from her dramatic cries as she stomps her way toward me. She always did have a flair for the drama; I wonder if that’s where I got it from?
“Mom,” I say, throwing my hands up as she comes to a stop in front of me, “you cannot walk through here screeching like that. What if I had customers?”
She wiggles her finger in front of my face. “You are closed, Eve. Now tell me, why did you dump Oscar? He was a fine young man who could have taken care of you. What, dare I ask, did he do to make you be so cruel?”
“Firstly,” I wave a finger at her, “Oscar is a baby. Who goes to my mother to whine about being dumped? That’s not a man, Momma. Not a man at all.”
“Eve,” she warns, her dark brown eyes growing tense.
“He smelled funny,” I exhale, rolling my eyes. “He also said strange things ...”
“Like what?”
“Like he wants eight children.”
“How is that strange?”
I curl my top lip. “Mother, do you know what would happen to my vagina if I were to have eight children? I might as well forego underwear because nothing would be able to hold that mess in.”
Her eyes flare with horror. “Eve!”
“Also, no man wants a wife who has had eight children. He doesn’t want to be pummeling away at that for the rest of his life. No, he’ll end up cheating with some young, hot, tight woman down the road named Betty and I’d be left with eight children and a raging vagina.”
“My lord,” Mom groans, pressing a hand to her face. “You aren’t my daughter.”
“Sorry to say it, but I am your daughter. Also, his name sounds funny. Oscar. I can’t be with an Oscar. Eve and Oscar, it sounds like some sort of bad poem title.”
“You cannot stay single forever, Eve. You’re turning twenty-six this year. Your time is running out.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not forty, Mom. I have time.”
“Not with a mouth like that you don’t.”
I gasp. “I’m your daughter, your own flesh and blood ...”
She exhales. “God help me. I have to go and collect your father from work—he won’t be happy about this.”
I grin, uncrossing my arms. “Daddy loves me, he doesn’t want me to be unhappy.”