“No. It’s our home. Cash and I live here with Ace. The clubhouse is nearby, but we figured you’d be best off meeting Ace away from the rest of the club, and that you probably didn’t want to deal with meeting people tonight,” Gage explains.
It’s a thoughtful gesture, and he’s right in thinking I’m not up for seeing anyone. “Thank you,” I reply softly, so quiet I wonder if he didn’t hear me. I feel nervous about meeting this mysterious Ace. What if he throws me out, or insists they return me? My fate lies in the hands of a man I haven’t met. A man who is feared and respected enough to provoke loyalty in some of the toughest men around.
The guys lead me into their home, a masculine space that is clearly lived in only by men but is nevertheless tidy and welcoming. In the living area, they have mounted a large flat-screen TV on the wall, facing a spacious L-shaped couch. The television is off, and instead of sitting on the sofa, the man whom I presume to be Ace is sitting in a La-Z-Boy next to the window. The soft glow of a lamp beside him bathes the room in warm light, casting shadows on his proud, masculine features, a straight, aquiline nose, and a strong jawline highlighted by his well-groomed beard. In his hands, he holds a glass of whiskey and a book.
It’s an unexpected sight, entirely at odds with what I had imagined the president of the Road Renegades to be like. Sure, he’s a great beast of a man, his broad, muscular frame filling the chair that would swamp me if I were in it. He has short, jet-blackhair, streaked with gray, cut shorter on the sides, and a short beard. There’s a scar that runs just above his brow, slicing it in half, which adds to his rugged appearance. I did not expect him to be so attractive, though, given that Cash and Gage are, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
However, the thing that has thrown me off guard is the fact that he’s sat here with his nose buried in a book. Bookworm and biker aren’t exactly synonymous. He looks up at me over the top of his book, fixing me with eyes so dark they’re onyx, and I swear my heart stops. The softness of the reading scholar is replaced by the raw, dominant energy that reveals the dangerous man I anticipated.
He calmly places his book on the side and finishes his drink before he rises slowly from his chair like a king commanding court. He’s even bigger than I thought at full height. He’s at least six-three, a couple of inches taller than Cash, who I thought was a giant. His dark, predator’s gaze doesn’t waver from me the whole time, and like the prey I am, I freeze. Finally, he looks at Cash and Gage.
“Who is this? And where are the damn guns?” he asks, his voice deathly calm.
Ace doesn’t say a word as Gage and Cash explain everything—though the disapproval emanates from him. When they’ve finished, he scrutinizes me, and I do my best not to shy away from his intense gaze.
“What’s your brother’s name?” he asks me.
It wasn’t the question I was expecting, but then something tells me everything about Ace is unexpected. “Eli, Eli Moore.” If he recognizes the name, he doesn’t show it. The guys have already explained how Eli—and by extension, me—got involved with the Rusted Scythes, so he doesn’t ask anything else. Using my opportunity, I take a chance and speak up. “Please, will you help me rescue my brother? He’s been hurt real bad. I don’t know if they’ve taken him to a hospital or not, and he could die without medical help,” I plead.
Ace rounds on me furiously, closing the space between us to stand dangerously close to me. He stops inches short, as if restraining himself from grabbing me. His voice is low and menacing when he speaks. “We aren’t foot soldiers for you to command. You’ll do well to remember who owns whom right now. As far as I heard it, you cost me almost thirty grand tonight.”
“If you want someone to blame, blame him,” I snap, jerking my head at Gage. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
His eyes narrow. “I would have thought you’d be more grateful considering what my men saved you from.”
“They didn’t save me at all if you decide to send me back when the deadline is up.” I look at him, willing him to tell me that he won’t do that, to say to me I’m safe here as Gage did.
Ace fixes me with that steely gaze of his. “Give me one good reason why I should go to war for you? Why should my men risk their lives to keep you safe?”
I almost allow hopelessness to take over. After all, he’s right. Who am I to them? Nothing. But then I quietly reply. “Because if you send me back, you’re no better than them.”
Ace doesn’t respond, and I feel strangely disappointed when his focus drops from me, like a marionette cut from its strings.
“Gage, show Miss Moore to the guestroom. Be sure to lock it.” Ace doesn’t even look at me again as Gage gently coaxes me from the room.
Gage doesn’t seem to know what to say, and his words sound hollow when he assures me that Ace will come around, that they won’t send me back. My eyes sting with tears of shame as he leads me to a small but comfortable guest room with an ensuite bathroom. I’d allowed myself to hope that Ace might be like the others, that he might see in me whatever they had felt was worth saving, but it’s clear that he thinks I’m a liability. No doubt he’ll send me right back to where they found me in the morning. I barely hear Gage as he explains where fresh towels and pajamas are for me to use. I nod along numbly. This time, when he tells me everything will be okay, I don’t believe him. I don’t meet his eye, and I can’t bring myself even to reply when he gently bids me goodnight. He hovers in the doorway, lingering as if to say something before deciding against it and closing the door behind him.
For the first time in a very long time, I contemplate cutting again. I look down at the thin, white scars on my arm, partially obscured by the moon phase tattoos there, and remind myself that I promised Eli I would never harm myself again, no matter what.
He broke his promise to you. He said he would always protect you. Why should you keep your promise when he’s abandoned you to the wolves?The saboteur in my head reminds me.
I take a long, hot shower, scrubbing my skin raw, trying to forget. When I emerge, I can hear the sounds of the men arguing downstairs, determining my fate. I change into the flannel pajamas and climb into the soft, white bedding, feelinglike a prisoner who’s been granted a final night of luxury before they’re headed to the gallows.
Chapter 4
Ace
When Cash and Gage returned home looking guilty as all hell, I knew that something had gone bad at the auction. As they stepped aside to reveal the woman hiding behind them, I knew trouble had arrived on our doorstep. She’s beautiful in a non-conventional way. Short hair streaked with color, long limbs covered with a patchwork of intricate tattoos, and arresting blue eyes, so pale they’re almost gray or violet. She looked at me with fear, but showed none when she spoke. This small woman had the guts to ask me for favors and to square up to me. If she wanted me to play the role of the ogre, then so be it. I tried to ignore the hurt, angry look that flashed across her face as I told Gage to lock her upstairs.
While Gage did as he was instructed—for the first time tonight, it would seem—I rounded on Cash once we were alone.
“What the fuck, Cash? I expect this sort of thing from Gage. All it takes is a pretty face to ask for help, for him to turn into a fucking white knight, but I expect better from you.”
Cash has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry, Prez, but what was I supposed to do? Before I realized it, the idiot had his hand in the air, and we’d won. If we backed out, that would have started a war there and then. Besides, you can’t really think that we should have left her for the Rusted Scythes to auction off to some asshole who’d rape her and do god knows what else.”
He’s got me there. As pissed as I am about losing the guns, if I were there tonight, I’d have done the same thing. I let out a resigned sigh. “No. I understand why you did it. But it doesn’t mean I have to be fucking happy about it,” I grumble.
They’ve dragged us into the very thing we were trying to avoid. There’s no way we’ll return the girl to her fate, which means in less than twenty-four hours, we will have officially declared war on the Rusted Scythes. I walk over to the liquor cabinet and pour us both a generous measure of whiskey.
