“Oh, well then.” Spider opened his arms in an expansive, sarcastic gesture. “By all means, carry on. I wait with breath that is bated to hear what you might want to say to me.”
“I just – I wanted to say…” Ace swallowed. “To say that I’m – I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
And there they were; there were the words that Ace had wanted to say to this man for seven years now. And not just for dragging him to this isolated farmhouse, or for keeping the pen drive and putting Liam’s life at risk, or for being a general screw-up and career criminal MC asshole. No, Ace wanted to say that he was sorry for ending it, and not listening to Liam, and hurting him so badly. For being the douchebag who had broken a good man’s heart into pieces. For choosing a bunch of monsters over the best thing that had ever happened to him, and for making that choice because he had been a damn coward.
For all of it. Just all of it.
He opened his mouth to tell Liam that, but he never got the chance.
“Fuck you,” Spider said quietly, so quietly that Ace almost had to read his lips. “Just… fuck you, Ace.”
“Liam, listen please –”
“No,” Spider cut him off, his voice rising now. “No. Not one more word, I swear to God. You listen to me.”
“… OK.”
“You’re a fucking idiot, and you always have been. You’re the idiot who ended us for a bunch of animals, and you’re the same idiot who held onto the most fucking incriminating piece of documentation imaginable… and now you’re the idiot standing in front of me thinking that a pathetic little ‘I’m sorry’ means anything? Like it’s anywhere good enough?”
“No, I –”
“I said shut up,” Spider snapped. “Shut. Up.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop saying that!” Spider shouted. “You don’t have a clue what it is to be sorry! You’ve never been sorry for a single goddamn thing that you’ve ever done in your whole violent, awful life! You’ve killed people and destroyed lives and never had a second thought about any of it! You can’t be sorry, because you’re not fucking human. So don’t even try, OK? I know we’re stuck here together until whenever, but you stay the hell away from me. Don’t talk to me, don’t even look at me. When I’m in a room, don’t come into it. Just – just carry on doing what you’ve done for the past seven years, and pretend that I don’t exist, alright? And I’ll do the same.”
Ace’s throat was tight with the terror that he wasn’t going to get that second chance after all. “Liam –”
“No. No to whatever it is. No to any and all of it. Just no.”
“I just want you to be safe –”
“You want what?” Spider stared at him in utter shock, too stunned to raise his voice. “Fuck off.”
“No. It’s what I’ve always wanted. It’s why I’ve done everything that I’ve done for you. To protect you.”
“For me? To protect me?” Spider had recovered and was shouting again, and despite himself, Ace flinched. “You didn’t protect me, dickhead! You kept those pictures, and now my life is in danger, just as much as it was seven years ago. Probably more. So you broke it off with me in the most brutal and hurtful way possible…and here we are, anyway, huh? What a waste of time and energy, and it was all for abso-fucking-lutely nothing.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Now Ace was shouting too. “You think that I don’t regret my choices now? That I haven’t regretted them every single goddamn day that I’ve been without you? That I wouldn’t go back and change it all if I could? You said that I’d regret it… well, I did. I do.”
Flustered and wrong-footed, Spider changed tacks, quick as a flash:
“Why did you keep those pictures, anyway? Why were you so stupid?”
“Because I needed to see you,” Ace said tightly. “My life was shit, and you were the one and only good thing, and I’d fucked it all up. Are you so blinded by your anger that you can’t see that?”
“Everything OK up here?”
They both turned, surprised at King’s words. He was standing at the top of the stairs, hands in his jeans pockets, with all the relaxed, lethal cool of a jungle cat, just waiting to leap and rip out some unsuspecting person’s throat.
“Yeah,” Spider spat out. “Fine. Thanks.” He stepped back, slammed the door.
Ace looked over at King, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so he just turned and went down the hall to the room at the end. He opened his own door, and disappeared into the room.
King shook his head, went back down to the living room. The others stared at him warily.
“Round One already?” Honey asked. “Battle lines drawn in the sand? Shouting and insults and name-calling and door-slamming?”
“Yep.”
“OK, so… who’s staying here tonight?” Tex said, praying hard that it wasn’t him. “With the two warring factions?”
“Anybody want to volunteer?” King joked.
Silence.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” King grinned. “Honey and Tex it is.”
They both groaned. Jack punched the air, thrilled.
“Yes!” Jack said. “Thank Christ!”
“Yeah, yeah… rub it in,” Tex said, a man in agony. “I’d take on five Fallen Angels before I’d choose to deal with ex-lovers at odds, in forced confinement and in close proximity. Seriously, boss, and I’m beggin’ you, send me to the MC clubhouse to kick some biker ass. It’d be way, way easier than keeping the peace here.”
“Sorry, man,” King said. “You guys drew the short straws. Jack, you’re back here before dawn tomorrow, alright? We still have a bit of time to get everyone in place, but that’s your cut-off.”
“We didn’t draw straws!” Tex protested. “We didn’t do jack! And just by the way, I think I may have to call in sick tomorrow.”
“Don’t you dare,” King growled. “And Jack was with me when we got rid of Kirk, so he gets the night off. Besides, he has plans.”
“Yeah?” Honey said. “What plans?”
“Pizza and boxing on TV,” Jack explained. “And an early bedtime.”
“Spectacular,” Tex muttered. “I’m so freakin’ jealous, my eyes are turning green.”
They all looked at his sulky mint-green eyes and burst into laughter.
Chapter Three
Donovan ‘Joker’ Kane stared at his laptop, simply unable to believe what he was seeing. He blinked a few times, still not trusting his own damn eyes, and when the images didn’t change, he gave a low growl of rage and disgust deep in his throat.
“Nails!” he called out. “C’mere, Prez, and I mean double-time.”
Stomping footsteps approached, and then Nails was in the doorway of Ace’s bedroom, looking ten kinds of seriously-pissed. Ever since that anonymous phone call had come in from someone claiming that Ace Cuddy had killed Kirk, Warren ‘Derby’ Kane (Joker’s own cousin), and Shay Alcott, it had been one hell of a day, and Joker knew that what he had to show Nails was only going to make for a much worse night.
“What?” Nails snarled. He’d just gotten off the phone with a few of his brothers and sure enough, Kirk’s body had been uncovered and Ace’s Fallen Angels cut had been found on the bed in the MC cabin. No sign of Derby or the little bitch, but Nails didn’t give a shit about them. Mountain animals could carry off their goddamn bones, for all he was interested, but Kirk was a whole different matter.
The fact that the former Fallen Angels President had first ratted out, and then killed, Colorado’s Public Enemy Number One was nothing less than stupefying, and Nails still couldn’t wrap his head around any of it. What the actual hell had possessed Ace to sell out his own brothers? Nails had known Ace for twenty years, and he’d thought him a solid, staunch MC member. Nails would have said that Ace would die before betraying his family – and now Nails knew that he’d have been w
rong. Maybe he hadn’t really known Ace at all.
Staring over at Nails’ expression, Joker didn’t want to say the words out loud, so he just pointed at the laptop screen. “This.”
“What?” Nails repeated, his frustration level rising with every passing second. “What the fuck’s so important, Kane?”
“This,” Joker said again. “This is big, Prez.”
Muttering under his breath, Nails came over to the laptop that Joker had retrieved from his apartment, just two streets over from Ace’s place. Nails was pretty sure that the pen drive had something on it, since Ace had gone to lots of trouble to hide it in a hidden crawlspace in his hallway closet, but he was at the end of his patience here. He figured it had details of who Ace had been talking to, and as important as that was, it didn’t explain the sick look on Joker’s face. Nails would have expected anger, maybe shock. But looking physically nauseous? That was a surprise.
Well… it was until Nails saw the picture thumbnails on the screen.
“What the –” he choked out, eyes bulging. “What… who…”
“That’s Ace,” Joker said, pointing at one picture. “No doubt about it. That’s his ace of spades tattoo, right?”
“And the guy sucking his dick?”
“I don’t know,” Joker said tightly. “But that’s not the worst of them, believe me.”
“Oh, hell, no. Tell me there aren’t pictures of them… you know.”
“Yeah. There are. Ace is doing all the work, and they’re both loving it.”
“Oh, Christ.” Nails shut his eyes. “How did we not know this about him? I mean, did you have any fucking idea?”
Joker shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “I don’t know how we missed the glaring fact that our former-President is a fag – but we did. He did one hell of a job hiding it. But if I’d known, I’d have outed him right away. I’d even have planted a knife in gut personally, if asked.”
“Yeah.” Nails stared at a few more of the pictures, then turned away before he could puke. Just when he’d thought that he couldn’t know Ace Cuddy less than he thought he had, here he was proven good and wrong: he had never known Ace, not even a little bit. “Yeah. Me too.”
“So.” Joker shut the screen, unable to stomach the sight any longer. “What do you want to do?”
“Do?” Nails rasped. “What the fuck do you think? We’re gonna track down Cuddy and that faggot, and we’re gonna make them hurt. For days.”
Joker nodded. Yeah, the Fallen Angels would have gone after Ace anyway, for turning informant and for what he’d done to Kirk, but now they had another reason. The abject humiliation of having had a gay man in their presence, in their clubhouse and – worst of all – in a position of authority and trust, was something that the MC was never going to be able to live down. Not ever. They were going to be a laughingstock, and a joke, and it was never going to stop.
Joker knew that the masculinity and toughness of every single Fallen Angels member was going to be questioned now, and that was a death knell to their professional contracts and financial commitments. If anybody thought that there was another poofter in their midst, or that they were a bunch of delicate little pansies, or that they couldn’t even keep track of their shit in-house, then partners were going to start walking. And Joker couldn’t even blame them. Hell, he’d do the same.
No, everything was in serious jeopardy now, and would stay that way until they showed how fucking hardcore they were. And there was only one way to do that.
Killing Ace Cuddy. With maximum pain, and with credible witnesses. Without mercy or hesitation or humanity.
Joker wanted to skin him alive. And he’d do anything to be able to do that.
Anything.
**
King left the safe house at midnight, wishing hard that he could just go home to Naomi. But he had one more thing to do before heading to the woman that he loved. Besides, he’d called ahead, and everyone was waiting for him to arrive.
He walked into Dangerous Curves and right away, was hit by the roar of music and raised voices, and a wave of the smell of alcohol and fried food. It was a familiar, even comforting combination of sounds and sensations, and right away, King unwound. Just a bit.
Standing at the bar were a group of men that King had come to trust with his own life: Jax Hamill, Dr. Shane ‘Mac’ MacIntyre, Aidan Carter, Curtis Manning, Dillon Saunders, and Luke Rhodes. Each one was large and ferocious-looking (possibly Curtis the most of all, though Dillon was a close second), and none of it was for show. These men were the real badass deal, and a few of them had extremely questionable backgrounds.
King didn’t care what kinds of illegal things Jax or Curtis or Aidan had done. He didn’t care where Mac had come from, or that Luke had lost his hand and was now a bartender in a dive bar that catered to bikers and ex-cons, or that Dillon was a ruthless and lethal bouncer at the same bar.
All that he cared about was that when the chips were down and he needed help, these men had his back. Without hesitation, and without expectation of anything in return. These men may have looked threatening and they may have indeed been dangerous, but they were diamonds in the rough and they had good hearts under the rippling muscles and dark tattoos. They were men who lived hard and who loved harder; they fought for what they had, then they fought like hell to protect it.
King approached the bar, saw how every set of eyes was fixed on him, unwavering and watchful. Noting much got past these guys, and a lack of education in a few of their cases had zero impact on their intelligence. Jax was probably the best example of this: the man was sharp and observant, and he’d learned all about human nature and psychology the hard way… on the streets. His amazing combination of smarts and quick learning and luck had resulted in him owning Curves, and then making a massive success of it.
“Hey,” Jax said now, his deep voice carrying over the noise of his bar. “Doing OK, man?”
“So-so.” King nodded at Luke, who nodded back and poured him a beer. “We have a few things to discuss, boys.”
“I’d sure as hell say so,” Mac said, his blue eyes blazing. “Mirrie called me.”
King sighed. “Yeah. I’ll just bet she did.”
“Also?” Curtis interjected. “According to Tessa and the other waitresses, the word around here tonight is that Kirk Jensen is dead, and Ace Cuddy did it.”
King accepted the beer gratefully, took a huge swallow. “Mmmm-hmmmm.”
“Fuck, King,” Aidan said, all golden hair and eyes and warm Texan drawl. “That’s big. That’s so big, I don’t have a word for it. Maybe a word for it doesn’t even exist.”
“I know it,” King said. “And we need to talk. Privately. All of us.”
Luke glanced up, surprised that any of this involved him. He’d never had anything to do with King’s Men or Ace Cuddy, beyond serving the guy beer once in a while, before Jax had banned the Fallen Angels from Curves. “All of us?”
“Yep.” King rubbed a hand across his unshaven jaw. “I need all of you for this one.”
“So I’m there,” Luke said. “Anything you need, man, and you know it.”
The others nodded, agreeing with Luke’s words.
“My office?” Jax asked. “As usual, when we have something very unpleasant to discuss?”
“Please,” King said. “Can someone cover for you, Luke?”
“Yeah. Let me get Dante from the staff room. His break’s almost over, anyway.”
The other men picked up their own drinks, went down the hall to Jax’s office, and after he’d unlocked it, they all went in. Luke joined them a minute later, and shut the door behind him. Despite the large sofa and several chairs, nobody sat.
King looked around at their tense faces, then just jumped in:
“I have Ace and Spider in a King’s Men safe house.”
Comprehension showe
d on Jax, Mac, and Aidan’s faces; Luke, Dillon, and Curtis looked blank, though.
“Spider?” Curtis said, running a large hand through his cropped blond hair. Privately, he thought that ‘Spider’ was a stupid name for a female, but hey, nicknames were personal, so he figured the woman had her reasons. “Who’s Spider?”
“Ace’s ex,” King said.
“So, Spider’s also in hiding,” Curtis said. “What’s her deal? She help Ace kill Jensen?”
Jax shifted a bit. Mac snorted.
“What?” Curtis asked him. “What’s funny?”
“Spider isn’t a ‘she’” Mac explained.
Curtis, Dillon, and Luke blinked, and despite the gravity of the mess, the other men grinned as they watched the penny drop.
“So… wait a minute,” Luke said slowly, since it was clear that Dillon and Curtis – both of whom rarely spoke at the best of times – were struck utterly mute. “So… so… Spider is a man?”
“Yep,” Mac said. “Complete and total.”
“And Spider is Ace’s ex?”
“Yep,” Mac repeated.
“Soooooo… Ace is…” Luke’s voice trailed off. “He’s – ummmm…”
“Yep.”
“Ah.”
Silence descended as Luke, Dillon, and Curtis adjusted to this new reality.
“Anyway!” Aidan said brightly. “Now we’re all in the loop!”
“Mmmm-hmmmm,” Luke said, a bit dazed. “So… did Spider help Ace kill Kirk?”
“No.” King stepped in again. “No, Ace did that to protect Warren Kane and Shay Alcott.”
“Are they OK?” Mac asked immediately. Warren was Mirrie’s younger cousin, and she’d been living in fear of him getting hurt ever since he’d patched in to the Fallen Angels. “Were they hurt?”
“They ran,” King said heavily. “That’s a story for me to tell you and Mirrie alone later, OK? But the thing to know is that they’re fine. They’re in love and they’re together and they’re safe.”
“Uh.” Mac furrowed his brow, a bit stunned at how much had happened in just a short time. “Ohhh-kaaay.”
Extreme Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 7) Page 5
