Acer (No Prisoners MC Book 3)

by Lilly Atlas

  “Nah, brother. Leave it as long as you want.” He climbed on his bike, careful not to let the little spark of anticipation show at the thought of returning to his apartment, where Fia was waiting for him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Acer opened his door to the sound of feminine laughter. Not flirty, giggly laughter, but hysterical, loud hilarity.

  “Aww shit,” Hook muttered behind him.

  “What?” He waved the guys into his apartment and secured the door.

  Striker groaned and pinched the skin between his eyebrows. “Any chance you thought to lock up your liquor before you left?”

  Jester laughed. “Obviously not, because that is the sound of some very drunk ladies having one hell of a time. What are the chances they’re naked and swatting each other with Acer’s swanky goose down pillows? Feathers flying all around, then one of them might accidentally—oof! Ouch, that hurt, dipshit!” He rubbed his ribs where Hook’s elbow had jabbed. “Was it something I said?”

  His brothers all laughed then collectively rolled their eyes when a high-pitched squeal came from Acer’s guest room.

  “I’d say the chances of a pillow fight are slim and none. The more likely question is what are the chances we’ll have to tie them to our backs to keep them from losing them halfway home,” Striker said with a grin.

  Acer wasn’t quite sure what all the grumbling was about, but then, he didn’t have an ol’ lady to manage.

  The group made their way down the hall. Acer was relieved Fia seemed to have found her way around the apartment. Although, he had a feeling the other ladies were the adventurous ones.

  He reached the guest bedroom before the other men and came to a dead stop at the sight before him. Fia sat cross-legged on the bed, next to Emily. The other two were sprawled on the floor, leaning against the wall with three, presumably empty wine bottles scattered around.

  Shit, that was a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine.

  He returned his attention to Fia, and in that moment, she could have robbed him blind and he wouldn’t have given a shit. She’d piled half of her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, giving her a casual and relaxed look, and she’d changed into a sunny yellow tank top. It was still too loose on her, but at least it wasn’t the obvious man repellant she’d had on earlier.

  What captivated him, though, was the wide, happy, and almost carefree grin on her face. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and she resembled the Fia he recalled from seven months ago. The Fia he hadn’t been able to keep his hands and lips off. Hell, if hanging out with the ol’ ladies and drinking his expensive wine put that look on her face, she could have at it.

  “At least my woman looks sober enough to stay upright.” Jester shoved Acer aside and barged his way into the small room, his enormous bulk monopolizing the space.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Jester surged into the room and Fia tensed. He was so large, the space in the bedroom seemed to shrink before her eyes. Someone that size would be impossible to protect herself against. He had easily three times the muscle mass of Mike, and Mike had been able to overpower her so easily. Jester could—

  Fingers of panic began to squeeze the air out of her lungs. God, no. Not now. They would think she was a basket case.

  Jester approached Emily, captured her face between his mitt-sized hands, bent his head down, and kissed her for all she was worth. Right before their lips met, Jester’s mouth moved, a breath away from Emily’s. Fia only caught him say, “I love you,” because she sat an inch away from Emily. No one else in the room noticed.

  Fia’s breath came easier, but something clenched deep inside her. Would she ever have that? That closeness? That physical comfort with a man? Hell, would any man even want that knowing what she’d been through?

  Heat flooded her cheeks and she shifted her gaze, embarrassed to be gawking at them with such blatant interest. Acer rested against the doorframe, his toned arms crossed over his firm chest, his concentration on her. A knowing, sexy smile tilted up his tempting mouth and his eyes darkened. Was that desire? Was it possible he still felt an attraction toward her?

  The spell was broken when Hook cleared his throat. “If you’d move your big ass out of the way and let someone else in the room, I’d show you how it’s really done.”

  Marcie laughed from the floor. “I’ll come to you, baby,” she said. She grabbed the top of a modern, gray nightstand next to the bed and hauled herself up. “Woah.” Her back hit the wall and she giggled.

  “Jesus, a little sloppy there, Marce?” Hook shook his head.

  She giggled again. Hook hip-checked Jester out of the way and moved into the space. He slid his arm around his wife’s waist and guided her out of the room, again ramming Jester’s body with his.

  “Okay, okay, I can take a hint.” Jester broke off the kiss, slid his hands under Emily’s backside, and lifted her straight off the bed. She yelped and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Later guys.” He followed Hook and Marcie out of the room, his arms full of happy female.

  Striker was next to collect his lady and before she knew it, Fia was alone in the room with Acer.

  Her insides twisted as apprehension settled in her chest. “I hope it’s not a problem that I set up camp in here.”

  He moved into the room never shifting his attention off her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, his intense gaze too powerful. “No problem at all, hon.”

  Fia nodded and smoothed a hand over the soft, royal blue comforter on the queen-sized platform bed. He had great taste. The bed was low to the ground with a large tufted gray fabric headboard. A contemporary gray dresser with a wide mirror was opposite the bed. It fit him. Clean, modern, masculine, expensive, but not fussy.

  She peered up at him. “Did everything go okay?”

  “It went fine.” His answer was reflexive, but she would have sworn she saw a flicker of anger in his eyes.

  She really had no right to question him about it, so she didn’t. “Are you hungry?”

  He ran a hand over his flat stomach. “Actually, now that you mention it, I’m starved. You want to order something in?”

  “Oh well, um, we were hungry and couldn’t get something delivered since you set the alarm, so we…um…well, we raided your kitchen. I made some stir-fry with what I could find. I hope that’s okay. There’s quite a bit left over if you want some.” She averted her gaze again. If he wasn’t attracted to her before, this nervous rambling would reel him in like a hungry fish for sure.

  She hated this person she’d become. This woman who lacked confidence and whose spine was as pliable as a wet twig. Old Fia would have told him she made him dinner and if he didn’t like it, he could eat a sugar packet.

  He stood in front of her now, far enough away that she didn’t feel crowded, but close enough that he was able to reach out a hand and gently tip her chin up. “Babe, for as long as you’re here, it’s your place too. Got it? You don’t have to ask me for shit. Use what you want, eat what you want.” He glanced at the wine bottles on the floor with a grimace. “Drink what you want.”

  Some of the tension left her muscles, and she chuckled. “Yeah, sorry about that. There was no stopping them.”

  He snorted. “They are a force. Come on.” He gripped her hand and gave a light tug. She followed him back to the kitchen.

  “Sit,” she said. “I’ll get it for you. I may have a little more myself.”

  She busied herself nuking the leftover stir-fry and preparing plates, aware of Acer’s heavy gaze on her the entire time.

  He moved his arms from the table so she had space to place his plate. “You been on a bike before?” he asked.

  With a smile, she sat across from him. “Actually, yes. A few times.”

  Acer’s mouth flattened and he stopped the fork halfway to his mouth. “When? And who’s the asshole who had you on the back of his bike?”

  Fia laughed. That sounded distinctly like jealousy. “It was in college. Geez, almost ten years ago, now. I had a friend with a motorc
ycle. I used to ride with him sometimes. No big deal. But I loved it. So, if you’re offering, I’m definitely game.”

  He grunted but didn’t say anything else and she assumed it was man speak for I’m not sure I like it, but you can ride on the back of my bike anytime. She grinned as a bit of excitement stirred. Riding on the back of a motorcycle again would be a lot of fun.

  They ate the rest of their meal in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was intimate, almost…domestic. Was this what the other couples were doing right now? Were they sitting down to a home-cooked meal before they retired to their bedrooms to spend the rest of the evening making love?

  She hoped so; someone ought to get some tonight. God knows it wasn’t going to be her. It might never be her again.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Acer depressed send on his phone and lifted the device to his ear. Fia had retired to bed about an hour earlier and he waited until he was confident she was asleep before placing a call to her father. He’d spent that hour doing a little digging on Terrance Caldwell and his oil empire. The ease with which he found some dirt to use as leverage was laughable. People had no idea how, with just a few keystrokes, their skeletons came tumbling out of the closet.

  After the third ring, a thick Texas drawl, laden with sleep came through the phone. “Who the hell is this? You have any idea what time it is?”

  “It’s ten here in Arizona, so I guess that puts you at about midnight, Terry.”

  Caldwell grumbled, no doubt at the informal use of his name. “Who the hell is this?”

  “Well, Ter, it’s Adam Wellington.” Dead silence left a wide void between the men. “Thought that might get your attention.”

  “Goddamnit. I knew that little tart would run right to you.”

  Acer tsked. “Terry, is that any way to speak of your only daughter?” He hardened his voice. “Especially knowing the trauma she’s suffered.”

  Caldwell’s sneer could be heard through the phone. “Yeah, because of you and your gang of miscreants. What’s it gonna take to get you to send her back to Texas? You want money?”

  Like a jagged knife, Caldwell’s words stabbed straight into the heart of Acer’s guilt. “No. I do not need your money. And what is Fia, thirty? I can’t exactly send a grown woman anywhere like she’s a child. Even if I could, your house would be the last place I’d allow her to go. She tried that already. Your idea of helping your daughter recover is to drag her through media hell to get some publicity for your struggling oil corporation.”

  Caldwell’s intake of breath had Acer smiling. “That’s right. I know all about your financial troubles. I know about your girlfriend too. Cute girl, but come on, Ter, she’s gotta be what, ten years younger than your own daughter?” He clucked his tongue. “I wonder what Mrs. Caldwell would have to say about your infidelities?”

  “Alicia? How did you—”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Acer’s voice was thick with menace. “We both know your corporation is failing. We also know Mrs. Caldwell’s parents were nice enough to die early, leaving her the fortune. Without her, your kingdom would crumble. Bet Alicia wouldn’t be too eager to suck your wrinkled dick then, huh? Back the fuck off Fia or the media will get a story they’ll find much more interesting than the kidnapping and rape of your daughter. Do you understand me?”

  “I don’t know who you think you are to threaten me.” His words were bold, but panic was evident in the way his shrill, wheezy pitch.

  “I’ll ask you one more time. If you don’t answer correctly, this picture I have from a security camera of young Alicia with her hand down your pants outside a very well-known Dallas hotel goes straight to every media outlet I can think of. Do you understand me?”

  Silence ticked by for one, two, three beats of Acers heart. “My finger is hovering over send.”

  “I understand.”

  The defeated attitude was music to Acer’s ears. He disconnected the phone without bothering to respond and dropped it next to him on the bed.

  Christ, had it really been less than twelve hours since Fia walked back into his life. She had a long way to go to recover from her trauma, but she’d get there. Acer would make sure of it. He’d do whatever the hell he had to, to help the old Fia return to life. Then, he’d set her free. Because as much as he enjoyed their little family-like dinner this evening, he knew all too well it would never work out in the long run.

  She’d betray him, or he’d betray her. It’s just how it was. People couldn’t be trusted.

  Both their families were the perfect example.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fia glanced up from the small sketchpad she had doodled on and chuckled. Acer and Hook had shoved tables aside and danced in a circle around the middle of the clubhouse sparring and taking shots at each other.

  Acer was different today—lighthearted and almost playful. It was a side of him she’d never seen before. Sure, she didn’t know him all that well, but she’d been living with him for two days and was coming to learn his moods.

  A club brother from their Vegas chapter was due into town any minute. Apparently, he and Acer were tight and she attributed his good spirits to manly excitement over his buddy’s visit.

  A shrill whistle had her turning her attention to the entrance. Marcie and Emily stood with their arms linked at the elbows. Marcie’s free hand was in her mouth and she whistled again. “Get him, baby,” she called to Hook.

  Hook diverted his focus long enough to blow Marcie a kiss. In the two seconds of inattention, Acer’s gloved fist connected with Hook’s jaw.

  Hooks head snapped back and Marcie winced. “Oops, sorry, honey.”

  “No worries, babe. He hits like a chick.”

  The reverberation of motorcycle pipes filled the room, drowning out any comeback Acer may have fired. Striker and Jester came through the door and the mock boxing match broke up. Both Marcie and Emily sought out their men, winding their arms around each other like they couldn’t bear to be apart. Lila had a shift at the hospital and would join them for a barbecue at the clubhouse later.

  “Sounds like Lucky’s here.” Acer sidled up next to Fia and grabbed her hand. “Come meet him.” He pulled her off the barstool and followed the rest of the gang out to the parking lot.

  A man backed his bike into a spot next to Acer’s and killed the engine. He pulled off his helmet and shook out his dark, shaggy hair before waving at the group.

  “Uhh, holy crap! Is that—?” Emily’s mouth dropped open.

  “Colin Ferrall?” Fia finished for her.

  Emily laughed. “Why didn’t you guys tell me Colin Ferrall was a member of the MC?”

  The men groaned as one unit.

  Striker coughed, disguising a laugh. “And now you know why he’s called Lucky.”

  Fia frowned and looked at Acer. “Because he’s Irish?”

  Striker laughed again and answered for Acer. “Not exactly.” He winked at her. “It’s because when it comes to the ladies, he’s the luckiest damn son of a bitch I’ve ever met. Not one of us stood a chance at scoring whenever we were out with Lucky.”

  “He speaks the truth. Not to mention he’s a former Marine sniper. Don’t know what it is, but something about that fact makes the ladies line up for a shot at him.” Acer chuckled and slung an arm across her shoulders. It was such an innocent gesture, one befitting a friend, but her muscles seized. His arm might as well have weighed five-hundred pounds, it felt so heavy across her back. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he whispered as he started to move his arm.

  “No!” She grasped his hand, securing him in place. “I’m okay. Leave it there. You just startled me.” She had to start somewhere. Baby steps.

  “You sure, babe? You’re so tense I might snap you in half.”

  “I’m okay.” She put some force behind the words this time.

  “All right.” He squeezed her shoulder and let the subject drop.

  Colin Farrell’s doppelganger approached, one dark eyebrow arched and the same side of his dark
goatee raised in a smirk. “You guys talking about my sexual prowess yet again?”

  Striker snorted, grasped Lucky’s hand, and leaned in for a back-slapping man-hug. “You wish, my friend. Good to have you here.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  “Damn, girl, you get more gorgeous each time I see you. Got any sugar for your Uncle Lucky?” He held his arms out and accepted a hug and a peck from a giggling Marcie. “And you must be Emily.” He lingered a bit with Emily’s hug, until Jester’s growl made her laugh out loud. With a wink for Fia, Lucky released Emily to her grumbling man.

  “And who might this be, Acer?” He stepped in front of Fia, so close she could count his eyelashes. “Another gorgeous ol’ lady for your chapter? Damn, they grow ’em pretty around here. Although, Acer, I gotta say this one looks a bit uncomfortable with you. He not keeping you satisfied, darlin’? You know, Ace, if they’re standing like a marble statue next to you, you must be doing something wrong. You can come to Uncle Lucky too, darlin’. I’ll get you to loosen up for sure.”

  Silence descended on the parking lot like a thick, dense fog, distorting reality. Old Fia would have had a snappy comeback and a wicked insult to hurl right back at Lucky, faster than a boomerang. New Fia’s legs trembled like a newborn foal at his intrusion in her personal space.

  Acer’s brother. He was Acer’s MC brother. He wasn’t Mike, and Acer would never let him hurt her.

  Lucky reached out and tried to lift Acer’s left arm from around her shoulders. In the next instant, quicker than she could blink, Lucky was laid out on the ground, blood pouring from his nose.

  Fia gasped and stared at Acer like he had two heads. Guilt and embarrassment heated her face until she was sure it glowed like a burning ember. What the hell? He’d just sucker punched his good friend. For her. All because she was two shakes away from a full-on freak out.

  Jesus. Her mess was hemorrhaging into his life, becoming his mess.