ACE: Las Vegas Bad Boys Read online

  “What should I do?”

  Clark smiles. “You should go through her apartment and look for clues.”

  “I’ve done it before, but I’ll look again, Clark. I’ll just go say good-bye.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Clark leaves, and I turn toward Janie.

  I send Claire and Tess a quick text.

  Me: Thanks for checking in on me. Gonna head to the apartment and look for any clues about Janie and Grotto.

  Claire: You okay alone? We work till 8.

  Me: I’m good. I’ll be safe and will call later when you get off.

  Tess: ‘k love. Keep us posted.

  I pocket my phone and walk into Janie’s room.

  “Hey,” she says. “What’s up?”

  “I was just headed out for bit—need to shower and change.” I bite my lip. Clark said to hold off asking more questions, but maybe my questions for Janie are different than his. My questions start before Vegas. They start where she and I left off.

  “Why did you stay away for so long?” I ask her, sitting on the edge of her hospital bed.

  “More of this? God, Emmy. For fuck’s sake, give it a rest.”

  I pull back. Maybe Clark was right.

  “Okay,” I say, now more apprehensive. “I just missed you. I was all alone.”

  “Sounds like you did just fine,” she says coolly. “Put yourself through college. Supported yourself. Why do you need me?”

  “You’re my sister.”

  “I just think we’re different,” Janie says, pursing her lips, eyes narrowed.

  It’s like she’s trying to really see me, but I swear she doesn’t know how to open her eyes. She doesn’t really see me at all.

  “Look, Em,” she continues. “I needed to be free. It’s like you kept trying to pin me down. Every time I called over the years, you were pushing on me to be something I wasn’t.”

  “What are you then?” I ask, feeling near my edge with her. “What were you doing with Grotto? He’s a dangerous guy ... and yet he says you were close?”

  “I don’t want to talk about Grotto.” Janie’s arms cross her chest, and I see glimpses of younger-Janie. The girl I either pretended she wasn’t or wanted to believe she had never been. The flighty, dismissive brat. The girl who never thought about me, about anyone but herself. The girl who left. The girl who was just like my mother and father.

  I’ve always been alone. And it’s no different now. Something sketchy has gone on with her and Grotto, and I don’t want any part of it.

  “I don’t think Ace was driving the car,” I tell her.

  She snorts. “You believe him?”

  “I do.” Maybe that’s what love is. Choosing to believe when I don’t have all the proof. And the thing is, maybe I already have all the proof I need.

  Maybe the proof is in his kisses, the ones that are tender and real and mine. And maybe the proof is in his heart beating against my own chest as he holds me late at night. Maybe the proof is in the unknown, in the part where I stopped being scared of what was ahead and chose to give in to the deep-sea dive that is love.

  Because suddenly I know that the waters ahead with Ace might be murky, but that’s okay. I won’t be swimming alone. He will have my hand, and we will find our way to the shore.

  And my sister, she’s never felt this kind of love. Because you can’t be filled with hate and lies and also be filled with the promise of forever. You can’t have both.

  Janie sneers at me. “Ace Royalle is a fucker. Your boyfriend hired hookers. He hired me.”

  I shake my head, not even feeling angry. Just sad. Sad for her. “He contracted a company that hired escorts for his hotel. That’s different.”

  “Is it?” Janie laughs smugly. “Tell yourself what you wanna hear, Em. I was with Ace. I fucked him. And then he left me to die in that crash.”

  I know in my heart, as I look at my sister, that she and I are nothing alike—and I know, without a doubt, that Ace didn’t lie to me.

  No way would he be with Janie.

  And not because he was above fucking whores—but because he told me he hadn’t.

  And I think I’ve had it all wrong my whole life. I’ve spent years believing I’m the one who’s broken, the one no one wants. The one who’s nothing but a wreck.

  But maybe I came out of the wreckage a long time ago. I picked up the pieces. I told Ace I needed help doing that ... but maybe I already have.

  Janie said it herself today. I did support myself, went to college against the odds. I’ve even been here, fighting for her, when she hasn’t given me any reason to.

  I’m not shattered.

  Maybe I’m not completely whole ... but I do feel whole when I’m with Ace.

  “I need to go, Janie.”

  “I bet you do.” Janie shakes her head, eyeing the phone. Her hands shake, her chest heaves. She doesn’t look well.

  “You going to call Grotto now? Make plans to ruin more things?” I ask, shaking my head at her. Tears are falling from my face, and I don’t understand why she’s so cold, so detached. So unwilling to be in any of this with me.

  “Fuck you, Emmy.”

  She tosses words at me that cut deep. That hurt in places I spent so long trying to heal. Words that make me bleed. Words that reveal more about both of us than I want to admit.

  We aren’t a family.

  I fight the desire to grab Janie by the shoulders, shake her until she knocks this off. Until she realizes I am not the enemy. That I never was.

  But looking at her, so small, so alone, I know I will never be anything for her. She will never let me.

  “Good-bye, Janie.”

  I leave the room, needing one thing. One single, solitary thing. The one thing that makes sense in all of this. Even if it shouldn’t.

  I need Ace.

  I need him in a way that carries me out of the hospital room, away from Janie.

  I need him in a way that propels me forward.

  I don’t look back.

  25

  ACE

  I walk through the casino floor in yesterday’s clothes. The guys are with me, and Landon points to Tess and Claire, in their barely-there uniforms, standing with the requisite drink trays in hand.

  “Shall we?” Landon asks.

  I nod, hoping they’ve heard from Emmy. I tried to call her twice, and then McQueen told me I needed to stop acting like such a pussy.

  They don’t understand that I’m in love with Emmy. That I would, and will, do anything to be with her.

  “You sure, Ace?” Jack asks. “If Emmy is in with Grotto, these girls might be too.”

  “Emmy isn’t with Grotto,” I say. “Besides, Tess in with him? Never.”

  “Claire’s a tough one, though,” Landon says. “Who knows what she’s up to.”

  “Claire may be tough, but she isn’t a fool. She’d never get wrapped up with Grotto,” I say.

  “But Emmy would?” McQueen asks.

  “Fuck this,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about Emmy anymore. Not until I’m looking at her face. Right now, we’re talking to her girls.”

  We cut across the casino floor, toward them.

  “Ace,” Claire says. “Everything okay? Heard you had a rough night.”

  “Yeah?” Jack asks, stepping toward her aggressively. “What else did you hear?”

  “Hey,” I tell him, pushing at his chest, needing him to back the fuck off. The last thing I need right now is a showdown in my casino. The press is probably already getting heavy-handed with me in jail last night.

  “Fuck you, Jack,” Claire says. Tess’s eyes get wide. “Emmy told me Ace was in jail. And I don’t know whose fucking mess this is, but Emmy should not be the one cleaning it up.”

  “Emmy’s cleaning what up?” I ask.

  Tess sighs. “She’s at her sister’s apartment, trying to get some clues about Janie for Detective Clark. I told her she shouldn’t be alone, but we have our shifts and couldn’t get anyone to cover for us.”
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  “Why shouldn’t she be alone?” I ask.

  “Because Grotto came after her.” Claire shakes her head, apparently confused as to how we don’t know this information. “Fuck, Ace, do you know anything?”

  “I’ve been in a fucking jail cell for twenty-four hours,” I say, ready to punch something. Someone. Grotto. “I’ve gotta get over there.”

  “We’ll come with,” Jack says.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Wait here with Claire and Tess. You girls go change, then stick with my boys. We’ll meet up after I get Emmy. I don’t want anyone in a position for Grotto to get close.”

  “Should we get security detail?” Landon asks.

  “Good call.” I nod, punching in a call to my assistant, wanting to get security to Emmy’s apartment ASAP.

  “But we have our shift, Ace,” Tess says.

  “I own this fucking hotel, and I own this town. Go change, and stay with my boys.”

  “Got it, boss-man,” Claire says, biting back whatever fear she may have with a smile. Emmy is lucky to have friends like these girls.

  “I’m out,” I say, then head to the garage for my car.

  I’m driving fast.

  It’s time I go get my woman.

  A light is on in the apartment when I pull up to the run-down complex.

  My cock’s been twitching the whole ride over, thinking about Emmy and our last few days together. All I want to do is press her against the wall and tell her everything is going to be okay. And then fuck her until she believes me.

  During our phone call when I was detained, her words had been laced in fear. Laced in lies. Her sister was fucked up and feeding her bullshit, and I know the only reason Emmy believes it is because she wants so badly to have a family.

  I didn’t want to be the bad guy to tell her that, so I tiptoed around the truth.

  But I think the time for skirting the truth is gone. Now is the time for everything to be out in the open. Now is the time for her to understand that we aren’t just a choice.

  We are inevitable.

  I knock on her door.

  No one answers, so I pound harder. After a minute of no answer, I kick the fucking piece of shit door in.

  “Emmy?” I call out. “Emmy Rose?”

  I storm around the apartment, but no one is here. Emmy isn’t here.

  I dial Landon’s number.

  “She’s not here,” I tell him. “Ask Claire and Tess where else could she have gone.”

  “Fuck, shit. Okay, just a second.”

  As Landon asks them, I scan the apartment again.

  It hasn’t been touched in days.

  I pull open the fridge, the freezer. Nothing much there. If Emmy was coming here for some clue about Janie, maybe I can find one myself.

  In the bathroom, I root around in the medicine cabinet, but there’s nothing there but a toothbrush and mouthwash. In the drawers, I find more meaningless toiletry stuff. In the bedroom I pause, wondering if I am crossing a line.

  “Hey,” Landon says into the phone. “The girls called her, and no one can get through. Tess is calling the hospital and Claire is calling the Detective now. Can you hold a sec?”

  “Of course,” I tell him.

  I pull open a dresser drawer. Panties and bras fill it, but it doesn’t get me hard, because I have no clue if this is Janie’s stuff or Emmy’s.

  Looking around the room, I see two enormous suitcases on the floor by the closet filled with clothes and shoes. Emmy must still be living out of them.

  I didn’t even notice them when we fucked here, probably because the only thing I noticed that day was Emmy’s gorgeous pussy.

  I push Janie’s underwear aside and root in the back of the drawer. People hide things in underwear drawers, right?

  In the back of the drawer I find a glass pipe that wasn’t been touched in a while. Next to it is a small balloon marked with a few Xs. I grew up a mafia boss’s son. I know a stash of heroin when I see it.

  This is fucking great. Not only is Janie a lying sack of shit, she’s also an addict.

  “Landon, you there?” I ask.

  “Yeah, what is it man?”

  “Grotto dealing?”

  “I have no fucking clue what Grotto does. I thought he was mostly buying up property and fucking with you?”

  “Anyone hear from Emmy?”

  “Nothing. Want us to meet you somewhere?”

  “Fuck, Landon. Where is she?” I ask, my heart beating fast, remembering the photo Grotto showed me of Trenton on the pavement, dead.

  “I don’t know man. We have security looking all over the fucking city.”

  “Call in more,” I tell him. Another call buzzes in. “Someone is calling me, I’ll call you back.”

  I pick up the other line. It’s Stacy, the realtor.

  “Hey, Ace, it’s Stacy.”

  “Yea, is everything okay?”

  “Just wanted to know if you’d been down at the property tonight. Just got a call someone had seen some lights on over there, and wanted to check since it’s getting late.”

  I look at my watch. It’s already ten o’clock.

  Stacy keeps talking. “When I was there yesterday with your friends they mentioned going back today with you after you got out of ... um ... well, custody, to really think through what you guys wanted to do with the building.”

  “Yeah, we aren’t there, haven’t been there all day.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll just swing by and turn the lights off,” Stacy says.

  Holding the heroin pipe in my hand, my mind is on Grotto. Maybe he’s there.

  “You know, I’ll have my security head over and take a look, make sure everything is in order.”

  “Thanks, Ace. And is everything okay with the ... um ... arrest? I just know it might put your deal in jeopardy if word got out.”

  “It’s under control. Grotto is fucking with me. But I’m taking care of him.”

  I hang up, tossing Janie’s shit on the bed. If Grotto has done something to Emmy, I’m gonna fucking kill him.

  I always hated the place I came from, but maybe I grew up in the mafia to prepare me for this day. This moment. I won’t let anyone take hold of my woman.

  I call Landon to tell him where I’m headed, and to send backup if he doesn’t hear from me in an hour.

  When I pull up to the building, I’m struck again by the size of this property, how we could turn this building into a fucking Vegas goldmine, if we just decided on what the fucking business was going to be.

  Right now, though, all I care about is finding Emmy.

  The parking lot is empty, but Stacy was right, there are lights on.

  I push open the door, and my steps echo in the enormous room.

  Then I hear the screams.

  EMMY

  When Grotto’s guy grabbed me outside the hospital I swore I wouldn’t cry. Not for this. Not for him.

  But I never swore anything about screaming.

  And fuck my life for reals. Because I’m tied up in a fucking shitty building. Literally tied up. I got thrown in a white van, and brought here.

  And why?

  When my asshole of a kidnapper started chowing down on fucking bean burrito from Taco Bell, I lost my shit. He had the balls to stop at a drive-thru before kidnapping me? Like, that seemed a thousand kinds of wack-a-doodle.

  He careened down the freeway, and then we ended up here. He used rope on my wrists, tied me to a fucking four-by-four and refused to say why.

  He’s eaten, like, five of those burritos, as if he’s a fucking animal. He chugs a two-liter of Dr. Pepper, and at this point all I want to do is punch him in the nuts. Or the gut. But he has eaten so much at this point it would probably make him puke. And I can handle a lot, but my kidnapper vomiting all over me? Just. No.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, watching him adjust his junk as he makes a phone call.

  “She’s here. A little pussy, but hot. She’ll be missed. Sorry, boss. Ye
ah. Yeah, an hour is long enough. Yeah, I got the gear and won’t leave a trail. I got you covered, man.”

  “Long enough for what?” I scream. “What gear?”

  “Keep it down, woman,” he says to me. Then into the phone he adds, “Okay, Grotto. It’ll all be done soon enough.”

  He puts the phone away and shrugs. “Gonna find a restroom. Don’t move.”

  “Fuck you!” I scream.

  “You wish.”

  Which is not true. I don’t wish to fuck anything as gross and disgusting as him. There is one thing I want to fuck, which will never happen as long as I am held hostage for reasons I don’t understand.

  So I scream louder. I watch the asshole leave through some doors, looking for a toilet. Which, eww. He just ate five burritos in like five minutes.

  I keep screaming. “Help. Let me go!”

  And then—

  Like the man I know he is, Ace appears.

  Miraculously. Magically. The fucking saving grace I’ve been looking for, for too damn long. The fucking hero I need, because sure, I can do a lot of shit on my own, but I want his help.

  I just fucking want him.

  “Emmy,” he says, rushing to my side.

  I need to keep screaming so I don’t tip off burrito man, but I want Ace to know we aren’t alone.

  Ace seems to understand intrinsically, and I remember he grew up in a crime family and probably knows more than I do about kidnappings.

  “Oh, baby,” he whispers, as I keep screaming, tears running down my cheeks, because I have no clue what this man was planning on doing. “I got you.”

  And once my hands are untied, once my legs are no longer bound, he picks me up and we run.

  Out of the building. Out to the street. He puts me in his car and buckles me up. He shuts my door, gets in the other side, and in two seconds flat he’s gotten me away.

  “What the fuck was that?” I ask as he flies over the freeway.

  “What part?” Ace looks over at me, like he’s saved women in crisis a thousand times. If he has, I don’t care. I’m not jealous. Because those were just practice runs for me.