Page 210 of The Fire We Make

Her hands stopped their progression as she came to the photo on the desk, framed in gold. She and Byron smiled ear to ear as he held her close. She was dressed in her law school graduation regalia, the final step of her training complete and the future ahead of her.

Her father had told her he was proud of her so many times that day, tears stung her eyes.

Six months ago, she wanted nothing more than to hear those words from him again.

The words didn’t hold as much weight anymore. Not now. Not since she’d been showered with another set of words that didn’t come with conditions attached or pain required.

What have I done? she thought.

“It’s good to have you home,” Byron said, patting her shoulder as he passed.

She was unable to reply around the pit that formed in her stomach.

Home had been what she’d been chasing all this time but home wasn’t what she felt here anymore.

When she laid in bed that night, she squeezed her eyes shut tight. She swore if she thought hard enough, she could hear Mel’s slow jams and feel Ace’s arms around her. Wrapped in his embrace and the distinct scent of leather, musk, and cognac.

Her brain conjured the soothing rumble of his baritone and the rhythmic clicking of his lighter. It was those memories that rocked her to sleep, dreams full of him and a life she could have had.

Ace pulled his shades over his eyes, shielding them from the blazing Miami sun.

The man standing guard at the Spanish style estate kept watchful eyes on him and a hand on his assault rifle as he spoke in hushed Spanish to Alfonso Reyes through the guard shack phone.

After a few days of wallowing, Ace finally decided that Joy didn’t get to be rid of him so easily.

For the first time since she’d snuck out of his bedroom that night, the anger and pain she’d caused him dissipated, replaced by images of the night they met.

The sad eyes.

The rage.

The defeat.

The loneliness.

The posture, Ace now knew, of a woman who didn’t think she deserved to be loved. He’d seen flashes of that woman over the past several months and this was no different.

Joy had gone back because Houston was where she believed she belonged. Because the cartel and the father who discarded her were all she thought she deserved.

But Ace had meant it when he said he would always chase her.

His beautiful, broken Rose needed to see that she was worth fighting for. That she already had a throne waiting for her—right beside him. One she didn’t have to beg for or barter her soul to keep. One that wasn’t a cage.

After a few nods, the guard hung the phone up and returned to the back driver’s side window where Ace waited patiently.

“You can go on through. Mr. Reyes will see you,” the guard said.

Ace nodded one. “’Preciate it.”

Ray drove through the open gate until they were deposited at the front of the circular driveway.

Alfonso waited at the door dressed in a cream linen set and a pair of shades of his own.

“King. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” he asked as Ace approached.

“Thank you for seeing me, Reyes. I have a favor to ask and it’s urgent.”

Alfonso’s brows rose. “Well in that case, come on around back. I’ll have some refreshments sent back and we can talk.”