The next two weeks are a strange mix of stressful and surreal.

Stressful, because Lagarto is still running free in Mexico. Rafe had him in his crosshairs outside Mexico City, and the motherfucking Lizard’s car blew up just before Rafe pulled the trigger. His bullet took out the nearby window of a store instead. Thankfully, no one realized it wasn’t from the explosion; at least, according to the online news article. Lagarto wasn’t just slimy, he was slippery too.

I had originally intended to make an alligator for my showing at the gallery, but now any kind of reptile pisses me off.

Instead, I’m creating a sugar skull, and it’s going to be epic. At least, it will be if I can find something amazing to use for the nose. None of the pieces of metal I’ve cut to the shape I want give it the feel it needs. I need something different. Something new.

I pick up my phone and tap Kane’s number, even though he’s only one floor up.

“Hey, princess. You need me?”

This is the surreal part of the last couple of weeks. Kane and me.

We’re forging a new life together, and it’s turning out as beautiful as one of my sculptures. It’s not perfect or normal, but it’s completely ours. We spend most nights at my apartment, in a bigger bed that Kane had delivered, and then in the morning, we get coffee and breakfast at a café before making our way to the warehouse where we go our separate ways to work.

Kane is an avid day trader, something I didn’t know until I finally asked what he did to fill his time. It wasn’t just money from wet work that paid for this warehouse and everything in it. He’s actually a bit of a financial genius, which is pretty freaking cool.

“Yeah, I need to hit a scrap yard.”

“And here I thought maybe you wanted to rob a bank.”

“I’m laying off the felonies for now, but I need a piece of metal and can’t find the right one. I thought maybe a trip to a scrap yard would give me what I need and knock a few more ideas loose.” I haven’t yet committed to the final pieces I’m making for the showing, and I want to.

“I’m coming down. I know a place you might like.”

“Thanks, babe.”

I end the call and lay my phone on the workbench before leaning back against it and surveying my work.

In two weeks of solid days spent hammering, cutting, and welding, I’ve managed to knock out more pieces than I thought possible. And what’s more, I’m proud of every single one of them.

I’ll be proud to stand in front of them and take ownership of them. Each piece is unique, impossible to replicate. I’ve made it a point to add an old car part to each one, and I’ve decided that’s my signature.

“Damn, princess.” Kane strides toward me, his gaze fixed on the sugar skull. “That’s gonna be sick when you’re done. It’s already awesome.”

A smile curves my lips. It’s incredible to have the support of someone who believes in you and your dreams. “You think?”

He stops in front of me and brushes a curl back that has slipped free of my bandana. “I know. You’re killing it, Temperance. Just like I knew you would. Now you have to talk me out of buying all of them so we can keep them here.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not buying any of them.”

“I’m not?” He tilts his head to the side. “And why’s that?”

“Because you want me to make a huge splash in the art world, and for people to see these pieces in homes all around New Orleans and beg Valentina for more of them so I’m not a one-hit wonder.” The last part is courtesy of a small niggling voice that has crept into my subconscious these last two weeks.

“You’ve already sold more than one piece, so how could you be a one-hit wonder?” Kane asks, confusion creasing his brow.

I glance away for a moment before looking back up. “Only a few, and I went and quit my job on the off chance I can really make a career out of this. What if I can’t? What if it was just a few people and a little luck, and after this, no one wants any of my sculptures?”

Kane wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. “Stop. You’re not a one-hit wonder. This isn’t a flash in the pan. This is real. Your talent is real.”

“You have to say that because you love me.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “It’s the truth. You’re going to rock the hell out of this showing and have so much demand, you won’t know how to keep up with it. I’m already working on sources for more good scrap to prepare for it.”

I jerk my head up to stare into his eyes. “You are?”

He nods, and the confidence he has in me feels like the most incredible gift I’ve ever been given.

He believes in me.

I push up on my tiptoes to brush a kiss across his lips. “I love you so much,” I whisper.

“Not as much as I love you.” He takes my lips and dominates the kiss.

A bolt of lust shoots through me, and I don’t care that I’ve been working for hours. I need him. Now.

Pulling back, I grab Kane’s hand and drag him toward a Jeep with no top. It’s perfect for what I have in mind.

Kane doesn’t argue. No, he helps me strip and then tears at his own clothes.

“Front seat,” I say on a groan between devastating kisses. “I want you in the front seat.”

“You first.” Kane lifts me off my feet and into the passenger seat of the Jeep. Then he climbs in the driver’s side, and I step over the gearshift to kneel on either side of him.

“I apologize in advance for what we’re about to do to your leather.”

“I don’t fucking care. All I want is you. Right now.” His lips press against my stomach as his fingers find my nipples and tug.

The heat that was already growing between my legs spirals even hotter. I reach for the bar above his head, and he pulls back to watch as I position myself over his cock.

“That pretty pussy’s already wet for me?”

“Always.”

As I slide down, taking his cock inch by inch, Kane groans. He begins to lift his hips, but I shake my head.

“This is my ride. I’m in charge this time.”

Kane’s icy eyes flare. “You giving me orders, princess?”

“Damn right, I am.”

“You realize that means the next time I come down while you’re working, I’m going to bend you over the hood of that Chevelle and spank your sweet ass until you beg me to fuck you.”

I grip the bar and begin to move. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He shakes his head. “No, what I got myself is the perfect woman, and she’s all fucking mine.”

A few hours later, Kane holds my hand as we walk down an aisle at a scrap yard, looking for the elusive piece to complete my sugar skull. We’ve already collected a pallet’s worth of metal that we’re taking with us, but I still haven’t found what I want.

“Do you ever feel like you shouldn’t be as happy as you are?” I ask. “Like it’s not allowed because . . .”

He stops and tugs at my hand until I face him. “You’re allowed to be excited about this showing, no matter where your brother is in the world and what he’s doing.”

I fix my gaze on the ground. “I just feel guilty that things seem to be going in the right direction for me, and his life . . .”

“His life is where it’s at because of him.” Kane tips my chin up with two fingers. “You didn’t make those choices. He did.”

“But—”

Kane shakes his head. “Did he work his ass off to put himself through college?”

“No.”

“Did he bust ass to have a respectable job so he could feel good about himself?”

“No.”

“Did he pursue a passion that creates something beautiful for the world to see?”

This time I shake my head because the lump growing in my throat makes it hard to speak.

Kane speaks for me. “No. He didn’t. He chose his path, and you chose yours. You reap what you sow, Temperance. He might share your blood, but what he does with his life has always been up to him. You couldn’t stop him if you tried.”

“I know.”

“So don’t, for one second, let the situation he dragged us all into take away a single moment of your joy for living your dream. You did that. You deserve to enjoy it.”

Tears, which I should be out of at this point, blur my vision, and I blink them back as I meet Kane’s gaze and nod.

When I turn my head, I see it.

The perfect piece of metal.

“There it is,” Kane says, but he’s talking about the smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

I point behind him. “No, there it is.”

As Kane helps me pull out the headlight housing, the excitement that fills me isn’t only for the metal I’m using to build my sculpture, but for what we’re building.

After I pay for the metal and arrange for delivery of the pallet to the warehouse, we turn to leave the scrap yard. Kane’s holding the headlight housing as we walk toward the Scout, and I spot a man running toward a dark SUV.

“What the hell?”

Kane’s gaze follows mine. “What the fuck is he doing?”

“I have no idea, but . . .” I spot the broken side mirror on the Scout. “That motherfucker.”

Kane turns and takes off after him, but the guy is already diving into what looks like a black Tahoe and takes off, tires spinning and throwing gravel.

I rush to the Scout and the first thing I notice, other than the broken mirror, is the divots on the glass.

He tried to break the damn windows. But they’re bullet resistant and he wasn’t prepared for that.

Kane comes back, not even breathing hard after his sprint, and hands off the piece of metal we found to me.

“The dumbass didn’t cover his plate. We’re going to track this motherfucker down.”