Page 71 of Single Mom's Bikers

“Speaking of lunch,” Rose says quickly, drawing attention away from Evie. “Shall we?”

They leave together, Rose’s hand brushing Draven’s arm in a way that seems unconscious. Through the window, I watch him open his car door for her.

The afternoon brings a steady stream of new clients. Some just want photos, but others book serious work. By three, my schedule’s filled through December.

“Had to hire a second receptionist,” Rick tells me between appointments. “Evie can’t handle the volume alone.”

I glance at her desk, where she’s training the new girl—some college student named Maya. The dark sedan rolls past again.

Zane notices too. “That’s five times now.”

“Six,” I correct quietly. “They doubled back after lunch.”

Rose and Draven return, both looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen them. But Rose’s expression changes when she spots the sedan.

“Evie,” she calls casually. “Got a minute?”

They disappear into the back office. When they emerge, Evie is pale but composed.

“Probably just admirers,” Skylar says, watching another group take selfies outside. “Happens with viral content.”

“We should celebrate,” Rick suggests. “First viral video, magazine features…it’s what we’ve worked for.”

He’s right. This is everything we’ve wanted for the gallery. Legitimate success. Real recognition.

“Dinner at ours?” I offer, needing Evie close tonight. “We could celebrate with the girls.”

Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Perfect.”

Outside, Rose and Draven linger by his car. He’s saying something that makes her laugh—real laughter that transforms her whole face. For a moment, watching them, I forget about suspicious cars and viral videos.

The sedan cruises past one final time as we lock up. This time, I catch a glimpse of the driver—sharp features, expensive suit. Not our usual stalker type.

“Chase?” Evie’s voice pulls me back. “You coming?”

I follow her home, watching mirrors for tails. Behind us, Draven’s car peels off toward The Den, Rose beside him. In my rearview, I glimpse Rick and Zane falling into escort formation without discussion.

Five million views. Five million chances for our lives to change completely.

Two days later, Kip strides into the gallery like he owns it, trademark grin firmly in place despite the tension in his shoulders. “So this is what internet fame looks like,” he drawls. “Gotta say, I expected more groupies.”

“They come for my art, stay for my charm.” I finish wrapping my client’s new piece. “What brings you away from your adoring fans?”

His smile slips slightly. “Need to talk. All of you.”

Something in his tone makes Rick emerge from his office. Even Zane sets aside his tablet.

“Not here.” Kip glances meaningfully at our busy gallery. “The Den. Now.”

We follow him downstairs, leaving Evie to handle the afternoon rush. The bar’s empty this early, but Sarah’s already setting up for tonight.

“Take five,” Rick tells her. She disappears without question.

“Those cars you’ve been seeing?” Kip pulls out his phone, showing us photos. “Not random fans or Death’s Head. They’re connected to someone in Sacramento.”

Ice forms in my gut. “Sacramento?”

“Major crime family territory.” He swipes through more photos. “Been watching them tail people around town. They’re looking for something. Or someone.”

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