ACE: Las Vegas Bad Boys (15 page)

* * *

We stand in the elevator, a few feet apart. We aren't touching; we're face-to-face, shoulders back. Debating the next move as we stand on this fucking black-and-white tiled floor. We're playing a real life chess game, and I know my next move.

This woman is my fucking Queen.

Emmy breathes so heavily, seemingly not as sure as me. I watch as she looks in the mirrors around us, as if trying to see me for what I really am.

I never want anyone to see the real me, because they might see Adrian Genova. The man I admitted to my best friends I really was.

I still haven't told Emmy the truth, and now isn't the right time. We don't need to reveal all the secrets we hold tight; we just need to come to some sort of understanding.

Because I can't lose her again.

I was a goddamned fool, an arrogant ass, for doing what she told me to do—walking away. She doesn't really want me gone.

She's the same woman I met a few weeks ago—the woman trying to be strong, not allowing herself to have what she really wants, what she really desires. She'd denied herself my pleasure the first time we'd met in the hallway, and she did it again in her apartment.

I should have learned my lesson sooner.

Emmy isn't playing a game of tag. Emmy isn't looking to be chased.

Emmy needs to be told there’s a reason to stay. She needs the promise of more. The promise of fucking forever.

She needs to be put in check.

Checkmate.

“Emmy, I fucking love you.”

“Shush.” She shakes her head. Her eyes have filled with tears at the single sentence I spoke. “Don't say that to me.”

“Why not?” I ask, stepping toward her, the distance between us now gone. “I do. I fucking love you, Emmy Rose.”

“That isn't true,” she whispers. “You don't know me.”

“I know enough.”

A tear falls down her soft cheek, and I press my hand on her cheek, wipe the tear away with my thumb.

“No, Ace, I don't know who you are … and I'm scared that the person I think you might be is the person I should hate the most.”

“Don't hate me when you don't know the whole story.”

“Will the whole story change the fact that my sister is being taken off life support tomorrow?”

My heart stops. They’re taking Janie off life support? I should have gone to the hospital. I should have done something. I was so focused on this deal with Grotto, on the desire to fuck Emmy—that I hadn't thought about her sister.

I am such a fucking arrogant prick.

“Are you sure?” I ask, another stupid question.

She gives me a sharp laugh, but doesn't pull from my hand. Call me crazy, but it's almost as if she is nuzzling against me, leaning into my palm.

I goddamned knew it. This woman wants the protection I can offer.

“I'm sure, Ace. And you say you had no part in it. Okay. I have to believe you—because I told the detective and he didn't care. He didn't call you in for questioning, did he?” she asks. Her tone isn't angry; it’s just tired.

“I didn't get called into questioning,” I tell her, realizing I have information she might not have. “I haven't heard a fucking thing—but Grotto, that ass who killed the PI, the man who called me Bullet at the club—he
is
getting called in.”

“Really?” Emmy asks. She steps back from me, as if wanting to see my reaction more clearly. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“The hell if I know. But then again, I'm not the monster you say I am. I knew Janie, met her once. But that was because I was going to hire her.”

“To work here?” Emmy asks, shaking her head. “Was she a waitress?”

“She never ended up working here, Emmy.”

“I don't follow, and why do you make house calls for employees?”

I know this next part will be hard for Emmy to hear, but she deserves the truth.

“She was hired to be an escort.”

“For you?” Her eyes grow wide.

“No … not for me. But the company she was going to work for is contracted with us.”

“And you came to her place because?”

“Because we test all the girls out that way. Make sure they show up, do as they are told. A trial run, so to speak. A lot of men in Vegas use escorts, and if my brand is going to be connected with any company, I want to be sure we’re sending out high-end products.”

Emmy shakes her head, takes another step back.

“Did you just call my sister, the one dying in twelve hours, a high-end product?”

“Actually, no.” I snort, frustrated at this line of questioning. “I met Janie a week before the crash, if I have my dates right. And after the trial run, I told her boss she wasn't up to par.”

“Ohmigod, Ace, you did not just say that.”

“Would you rather I lie to you?” I ask, my voice loud, because now I am getting fucking pissed. “I thought that was the problem, you not trusting me. Now you can. Now you know I wasn't the monster driving the car.” I'm yelling now, and it’s pushing Emmy away, but now I’m fired up and I’m not stopping until she knows the absolute truth.

“Okay, then, I believe you. If Grotto is getting called in for questioning … maybe it was him. I don't know. I don't know anything,” she cries, her hands splayed in front of her, confusion written over every inch of her skin. “I thought I did, but then every time I see you … you make everything I think I know … blurred.”

“Then let me clear it up, Emmy Rose,” I say, my voice cutting and clear. “I never fucked your sister. I wouldn't have touched her with a ten-foot pole. She wasn’t the kind of girl I'd have hired to clean my fucking toilets, let alone touch my motherfucking cock.”

Emmy slaps me across the face, so hard it stings. She slaps me with the sort of strength I knew she possessed, the sort of strength I'd like to see more of.

The sort of strength that only exists because she has been refined by the fire—the fire she has inside her because she was born from a place of addicts and no money, and broken homes and broken dreams. She came from something burning to the ground, but this woman has risen from the motherfucking ash.

She's a phoenix rising and she's beautiful when she flies.

I pin her to the elevator wall, her arms above her head, her eyes alive, her eyes on mine.

She can't move. She doesn't want to.

All Emmy Rose wants is me.

“I told you I love you and I motherfucking meant it.”

I kiss her hard, sealing myself to her mouth, her heart. I kiss her hard and seal myself to her goddamned soul.

* * *

I left the elevator after he kissed me. My entire world broken and alive.

He kissed me and told me he loved me, and I believe it.

When his lips pressed against mine it was as if a flood of truth washed over me.

Janie is dying, and that’s tragic and incomparable.

But maybe her death is allowing something else to be brought to life.

Maybe her death will allow Ace and I to live.

Is that crazy? Is it the flawed logic of a lonely girl grasping for sense in a screwed-up world?

I don't know and I don't care, because right now I need something that makes sense.

I change out of my uniform in the locker room, pull on my leggings and my flats. Yank on a tank top and a jean jacket. I shove my fishnets and pleather in my tote bag and get the hell out of here.

I'll see Ace again. Of course I will, because he’s all I have left.

I leave
Spades Royalle
and get a cab for the hospital.

Ace offered to come with, so I wouldn’t be alone. But I told him no. I see texts from Claire and Tess, asking WTF is going on—apparently word travels fast—and asking if I need their support. But I dash off a message saying thanks but no thanks.

Right now I need to be alone so I can say good-bye to the person who has known me longest in the world. So I can say good-bye to the story I wanted to be mine and Janie's … pages of redemption and happily-ever-afters.

That won't be our story … but maybe—just maybe—it will be Ace's and mine.

I've never been the sort of person who believed in Go—shit, I was in the chapel this week wondering where the angels were, where the Saints had gone—but maybe there is a God.

Maybe he's been looking out for me, making sure I won't have to be alone. Maybe Ace came into my life at the perfect moment. Maybe he arrived when Janie was leaving so I would never be truly alone in this world.

I get to the hospital, check in with the nurses and take my seat beside my sister.

I hold her hand all night. I don't let go because soon enough I'll be forced to walk away.

* * *

I
wake
up and wipe the drool from my face as nurses begin shuffling into the room.

“Sorry, sweetie, we know this is hard. Impossible, really. The doctor will be here soon.”

I don't look up at them; my eyes are on my sister. I sweep her dark hair from her face and memorize it for the thousandth time this week. I don't want to forget anything about her.

The nurses scuttle back and forth, I don't ask questions because everything will end soon enough. I don't need to know the details of her death.

The bustling stops for a moment as the nurses leave to get something from another room and in a moment of quiet, I take Janie's unmoving hands, and kiss the tops of them tenderly, knowing I want to say my last words in private.

Whispering words I can't believe are my truth, I say to her, “I don't want you to worry about me. You've hung on long enough. Of course I want more time with you, I'd give anything to have it. But I'm going to be okay with you gone, Janie. Ace came into my life … somehow at the perfect moment. And I don't want to trade you for him, but it feels like that is what is happening.”

I let go of her hand, my heart letting go too. I've made my peace, at least some crazy semblance of it.

Tears fall freely down my cheeks, stinging my skin, reminding me that none of this is easy.

And then, the monitors pop to life. Blare with noise and beeping.

Janie moves her head ever so slightly—the first movement I've seen since I showed up here at the hospital two months ago.

“Nurse!” I scream. “Come quick, Janie moved!” I was not expecting this at all.

Two nurses rush to the bedside, and we watch in awe as Janie's eyes blink open.

She looks right at me.

A
gainst all odds
, Janie is awake. Startlingly, awake. Eyes wild, hands manic.

She immediately begins trying to pull the ventilator out of her lungs, ripping IVs from her arms.

The doctor runs in, the nurses are frantic, and they quickly force her down, securing her arms to the bed.

I cover my face, shocked and unprepared for her to begin moving violently.

Unprepared for anything that doesn’t end in death.

The doctor sedates her, and nurses move to replace her IVs.

And then, in an instant, she is gone again as the drugs are absorbed.

The room stills around me as the truth sets in.

Janie is alive.

* * *

I
’m in my office, getting shit done, when the phone rings.

Finally.

Emmy is a fucking dick-tease with the way she’s held out on calling me. I gave her my number before she left for the hospital. I wanted to go with her, but she refused, saying if she was saying goodbye to her sister she needed to do it alone.

I get that. When my two sisters were found dead a week after they were kidnapped by the fucking Bollario family, I didn’t want anyone to see me cry.

When I found my mother at her kitchen table, blood seeping over her white tablecloth—shot in the head while she was peeling potatoes—I didn’t want anyone to see the way I broke down.

So when Emmy said she needed to do this alone, I fucking got it.

But, damn, it was hard to watch her go.

I confessed my motherfucking love to her before she left. And now it’s been twenty-four hours, waiting for her to call.

“Emmy, you okay?” I ask.

“She woke up,” Emmy says, her voice soft. “They didn’t pull the plug.... she’s awake.”

“That’s fucking unbelievable.”

Emmy laughs, sharp and high and full of relief. “I know right? I still can’t believe it, Ace. I didn’t lose my whole family today. I thought I would be going to bed alone in the world, and now I don’t have to.”

“You wouldn’t have had to anyway,” I tell her. “I told you I love you, and I mean it.”

“I know you did, it’s just....”

“Just what?” I don’t like her hesitation.

“It’s just ... I thought you and I made sense when I had no one else. Like, that the universe was giving me someone when I thought I was going to be alone. But now I’m not. I have my sister. And my priority is Janie. I don’t know if I can really start something with you ... now.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, Emmy. You can’t really start something?” I want to punch a wall. Instead I start pacing my thousand-square-foot office.

“I’m not being coy, Ace. I’m being honest. I’m not one of those girls who play games. I mean what I say. And I say my sister is my priority.”

“And me? I’m what, a fucking distraction? Because I know I’m more than that to you.”

“You’ve known me what, a week? Come on, Ace. Those words in the elevator were just that. Words.”

I want her to understand words like I love you aren’t just words to me. She doesn’t seem to get that I haven’t said them to a soul since my mother died. She doesn’t understand because she isn’t listening. She may say she doesn’t play games, but she knows how to fucking run.

“You still at the hospital?” I ask.

“Yeah, I still have to talk with the doctor and figure out what happens next. And then I need to stay here until she starts talking. Which is why I am calling ... I can’t do this. Us. And I didn’t want to leave you hanging. You’ve been so good to me.”

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Ace, no.... you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t. I can do what I fucking want. And what I want is you. I’m not letting you go that easy. I let you push me away last week. I’m not doing it again.”

The line is silent and I wonder if she doesn’t like the aggressive macho bullshit I’m pulling, the bullshit that happens to be the fucking truth.

But then Emmy speaks. “Okay,” she says simply. “I’ll see you soon.” And then she hangs up.

Emmy is a woman who doesn’t trust people, doesn’t ask for help. And okay, I get it, she has an effed up past—lucky for her I do, too. So her running away won’t get her very far. Not when I’m used to running just as fucking fast.

* * *

E
mmy texts
me what floor she’s on, so when I get to the hospital it doesn’t take me long to find my way to her. And the text was full of the unspoken truth. I mean, she says she doesn’t want me, doesn’t play games—but then hangs up and tells me where she is.

Some girls might run into the arms of a rich man, think that might solve their problems—but hell, Emmy Rose is a tough sell.

I just need to show her that she can trust me. That I’m the man for her.

Because I already fucking know she is the woman for me.

“Ace,” she says, the lilt in her voice gentle. When I reach her I see her eyes are red, her skin dry, her hair in a messy bun. But the tension from before, when she thought this day would end in death, is gone. For the first time I’m seeing a hopeful Emmy.

I wonder what a head-over-heels Emmy might look like?

I’ll fucking get back with the information on that, because I plan on finding out.

“You okay?” I ask, pulling her into a hug. Her whole body goes limp in my arms, like she’s been holding too much together for so long and just needs a man with whom she can fall apart.

“She isn’t, like, alive-alive,” Emmy says, her face pressed against my chest, not letting go.

I want to keep her here forever, and I know that’s selfish but it’s true. I want this woman like nothing else.

Emmy keeps speaking, “She’s blinking. Her brain activity is fluid. For a second I thought she looked at me. I don’t know ... I mean, that’s why I said the timing for us is off. I need to help her rehabilitate and it might be awhile.”

“Well, you aren’t moving into the fucking hospital. It doesn’t need to be one or the other.”

“I know ... but I just—Ace, I need to get this right. Maybe you don’t understand what family means—means to a girl like me.”

I shake my head, trying not to get pissed at her for not knowing me. That is the problem with us right now, I realize. Emmy doesn’t know much about me besides the fact I have a massive cock that her pussy craves.

I need to show her who I really am, what I can really offer.

“Do you want to come see Janie?” Emmy asks.

I swallow, not wanting to tell her that no, I don’t want to see Janie ... not at all. I want to avoid that possibility for as long as possible. For forever.

Emmy pulls away, looks up at me. “Actually, it isn’t a great time. I have to meet with the doctor right now. You can just stay out here, okay? I’ll come out to find you when I’m done.”

I nod, then kiss her lips—hard and true—before letting her walk away.

I sit in a hard plastic chair, pull out my phone, and start texting with my assistant, Denise.

Me: Clear my schedule for the next few days.

Denise: You got it boss.

I’m sitting in my chair, checking scores from tonight’s games, when the last person I expect to see stops to say hello.

It’s, Janet Denzel, the wife of my newly-fired lawyer. I stand up to greet her.

“Ace, dear, what are you doing here?” Janet asks, as I bend down to kiss her cheek. Her face is pale, her hands tightly gripping a walker. She’s wearing a bathrobe, and is clearly staying a while.

“A friend’s sister is here, we’re visiting.” I hesitate, then ask the hard question. “And you, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Ace. Things have been rough. Touch and go really. I’m here for another surgery, tomorrow morning.”

She must see my face etched with worry, because she pats my hand, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine, Ace. I will. What will be, will be. I’m mostly just worried about Mark.... He’s working so hard; I think he’s pulled in too many directions.”

When I don’t answer, she adds, “Ace, I know how much Mark cares about you. You’ll look out for him, won’t you?”

It’s clear she doesn’t know about the falling out, and I’m glad. The last thing Janet needs to worry about right now is Mark and I not seeing eye-to-eye.

“Anything for you, Janet,” I tell her.

“My nurses will be mad if I’m not in bed like I’ve promised, so I’ll leave you be, but it was so good to see you, Ace.”

“You too, Janet.” I give her a hug goodbye, noticing how frail she is. There’s no meat on her bones and I wonder how much time she has left. This has gotta be killing Mark.

“Oh, and Ace—keep your head on straight with the ladies. I worry about you.”

“Noted,” I tell her, smiling tightly as she scoots away down the hall.

I quickly text Denise again, telling her to send some flowers to Janet at the hospital.

As I pocket my phone, I see Emmy walking toward me with a doctor. She looks annoyed, and it’s a look I’m all too familiar with, even after just a week of knowing her.

* * *

M
y head hurts.

Like, exhausted slash annoyed slash are you kidding me? Hurts like a motherfucker, really.

Hurts like if you tell me one more shitty thing, Doc, I might lose my actual cool.

Not just my pretend cool, not the cool I show most people. I’m talking the for-reals Emmy-cool. The cool I never show anyone, because I’m not usually so messed up in my head.

But right now I feel beyond messy. I feel like a straight-up disaster zone. Stage five tornado. Emergency evacuation. Get the hell out of here, hot-mess.

The doctor introduces himself to Ace, like they run in the same crowd or something.

“I’m Ace Royalle,” he says coolly, looking me over, as if assessing the situation. And by situation, I mean my situation. He must be able to see I’m all screwy.

I didn’t sleep all night or all day, and now it’s five p.m. I ate a bag of Lay’s potato chips around ten this morning, but nothing before or since.

And I know my breath must smell like a legit dumpster. Like, I want to kiss Ace again so bad it hurts, but when he kissed me earlier I was so scared he would realize that I am not some sexy woman, that I’m currently rocking beast-mode.

And right now, as the doctor reaches out to shake his hand, I know that if Ace takes another step toward me before I can thoroughly brush my gums, I may be liable to punch him in the junk just to distract him.

Which, why do I even want him? I mean, besides the fact he gets me wet every time we’re within fifty feet of one another, and besides the fact he is funny as hell and is Alpha-everything. Besides the fact his arms feel safe and his eyes are sincere and his cock is literally drool-worthy. Like, I actually drooled on it when I sucked him off last time.

It is that impressive.

So why did I try to blow him off after he told me he loved me? Why did I tell him I wanted to end things, that things were over, when I called him tonight? Why am I fighting everything I want?

I don’t know. I have daddy issues and who knows what else.

Also, I’m still scared. Of a hundred different things.

And right now, I’m mostly scared that something is still going to go wrong with Janie.