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“Exactly,” Otis said. “And Jace is outvoted.”

Chapter 47

Jace

Isat on my bike outside Monsters Ink, the tattoo parlor in town, and tried to get myself under control. Daisy’s stunt in the kitchen had riled me up in more ways than one, but I knew that wasn’t the only thing that had me on edge.

I pulled out my new phone and opened up the app for the security cams in the house, then pulled up the camera from Daisy’s bedroom.

Wolf had been pissed when he’d opened up the app for the first time and realized Otis had installed cameras in every room — not just the exterior of the house.

But Otis had just said, “Do you want to keep an eye on here or not?”

Wolf had opened his mouth like he was going to object, like he was going to tell Otis he was acting like a fucking stalker again, but in the end he’d left it alone. I didn’t know if it was because he realized Otis had a point (what if someone got into the house and stole something again? what if that person came to hurt Daisy next time?) or because he’d already consideredthe masturbatory possibilities of being able to see inside Daisy’s room.

Probably the last one, because Wolf lived his life by some kind of honor code passed down from his ancestors.

Or he had until the night we’d killed Blake.

I went to the footage from last night and watched as Daisy entered her bedroom from the bathroom. Wolf was sitting on her bed like he owned the place, making himself right at fucking home as they exchanged a few words.

As far as I knew, Daisy didn’t know the camera was there.

The video didn’t have audio, but I didn’t need it to understand what was going on as Daisy took the aspirin and drank the water Wolf had left on her nightstand, then crawled into bed next to him like they were fucking married or some shit.

I forwarded through the next part — a little talking, Daisy falling asleep, Wolf turning out the light and eventually falling asleep. Daisy stirred and I stopped forwarding, watched as she flung her leg over Wolf’s hips, made little movements like she was trying to get herself off.

My dick was already hard when Wolf rolled on top of her, and if anyone asked why my chest felt tight I’d swear on a fucking Bible it was because Wolf had thrown our agreement to keep our distance from Daisy in the shitter. But alone and staring at the video, I knew that was a lie I told myself to avoid the truth.

My chest was tight for the same reason my dick was hard: I wanted to be in Daisy’s bed, wanted to feel her body under mine, wanted to kiss her neck and suck her tits, push her thighs open and taste her never-fucked pussy.

It wasn’t about Wolf. I shared everything with Wolf and Otis. Everything.

It was about the fact that I wasn’t there, that they were right down the hall and I couldn’t be there, and that part was on me.I was a raging dick to Daisy like I was a raging dick to everyone else. It was a fucking law of nature, like gravity.

I’d watched Wolf make Daisy come with his mouth at the Orpheum and again on the security footage, had walked in on Otis sucking her tits while he stood between her thighs.

It was only a matter of time before one of them fucked her, and from the looks of things, my money was on Wolf.

Fuck.

I watched as Wolf positioned himself between Daisy’s thighs, saw her back arch, her tits jut as he lapped at her pussy.

Then I groaned and shut it down, slipping my new phone in my pocket and trying to get my body under control before I went into the tattoo shop.

When I felt like my dick wasn’t on display for all of Main Street, I hopped off my bike and went into the shop.

It was a nice place, two sofas creating a sitting area near the front windows, graffiti art on the walls, and a long glass case showcasing an assortment of hoops, bars, and gemstones just waiting to be attached to someone’s skin.

Beyond the glass case, several chairs sat in front of mirrors and workstations, a curtain blocking the back of the shop.

“Dude!” Wells Mackenzie hurried toward the front when he saw me. “I heard you were out!”

He came around the glass case and clapped my arm. Unlike a lot of the people I’d seen in passing, Wells seemed genuinely happy to see me, no trace of judgment on his face.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“It’s going,” I said. “Otis said you’d taken over the shop.”