Page 27 of Single Mom's Bikers

“Under your bed,” I call up to Daisy. “Where you left them yesterday.”

Morning chaos swirls around me—backpacks, breakfast, and two girls who seem determined to test every boundary before eight AM.

But chaos is better than fear, better than looking over our shoulders like we did in the first months after running.

“Found them!” Daisy thunders downstairs, brandishing her shoes like trophies. “Violet put glitter in them!”

“Did not!” But my youngest’s giggle gives her away.

I’m helping Violet wash glitter off her hands when Rose’s knock comes. She doesn’t wait for an answer, slipping in with her laptop and that look that means trouble.

“Girls,” she greets them with forced cheer. “Ready for school?”

They know better than to linger when Rose has that tone. Even Violet just hugs me quickly before following her sister out.

“Love you, Mama!”

“Love you too, babies. Be good!”

The bus pulls away, and Rose’s smile drops. “We need to talk.”

“Good morning to you too.” I pour her coffee. “What’s wrong?”

“Luca’s got a new family.”

The mug slips from my hand. Rose catches it before it shatters.

“What?”

She opens her laptop and turns it toward me. There they are—Luca with his arm around a blonde woman, both smiling at a little boy between them. The photo’s recent, taken at some charity gala.

“Meet Teresa and Marcus Romano. She’s a society widow, and he’s her two-year-old son.” Rose’s voice stays neutral. “And apparently, he’s also Luca’s.”

My stomach lurches. “He always wanted a son. Two years old? He was cheating on me the whole time?—”

“Yes. You didn’t think he was faithful the whole time, did you?” Rose raises an eyebrow. “He’s insane.”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. But seeing him play happy family while I’m running with our daughters…

“There’s more.” She pulls up bank records. “He’s been moving money. Big amounts.”

“Looking for us?”

“Looking for his money.” She shows me the transfers. “He knows you took it, Evie. He’s getting desperate.”

“Good.” But my hands shake as I reach for my coffee. “How’s the laundering going?”

“Smooth so far. That bike shop in Nebraska’s working perfectly as a front. But—” She hesitates.

“What?”

“You’re getting careless. These brothers?—”

“Don’t.” I stand, needing to move. “The Cross brothers are none of your business. They’re the only thing keeping me sane in this crazy world I’ve plunged into.”

“They’re making you sloppy. The window shows?—”

Heat floods my cheeks. “You know about that?”

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