“I love this song,” I whisper to Ace.
It’s “Waves” by Dean Lewis.
And God, Rogue’s voice is something else. It’s husky and smooth at the same time, deep and delicious.
“He’s amazing,” I swoon.
“Okay, calm down,” Ace mutters, as I hold my hands to my chest over my heart.
I look to him and shake my head in amazement. “He’s fucking incredible. Why are you guys hiding him out here? He should be famous, and the world should know his name.”
I turn around to see everyone in the room staring at my outburst, and although Rogue hasn’t stopped playing, he flashes a smile in my direction. “Does he have a CD? Because I’d be all over that shit.”
“No, the only time he performs is in the clubhouse,” Ace says into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “We need him here more than the world needs to fangirl over his ass.” He eyes me. “Plus, he has enough fangirls within the clubhouse it seems.”
“I know, but come on, he’s so talented.” He looks more like a superstar than a biker, but hey, who am I to make that judgment.
The song finishes, and I cheer the loudest. Rogue walks over to me afterward and wraps his arm around me casually.
“You are something else,” I say to him, glancing up at his face. “And I love that song. I could listen to your voice all night. Are you going to sing anything else?”
“Do you have any requests?” he asks me, blue eyes filled with warmth.
“Really? You’d sing for me?” I ask, shifting on my feet in an excited dance. “Do you know Sam Smith? What about ‘Too Good at Goodbyes’?”
“Tell you what, I’ll learn it and sing it for next time,” he promises, letting go of me and looking toward the bar. “I’m gonna grab a drink, do you want anything?”
I shake my head and lift up my beer. “I’m good, thanks.”
He slaps Ace on the shoulder as he walks past, and I watch him leave. “This place is just full of surprises.”
Ace doesn’t look amused.
I smile at him.
He doesn’t smile back.
“I think you need another beer,” I tell him, placing my own down on the table and pulling him toward the bar. There’s a man standing there, pouring drinks for everyone, and Ace tells me he’s a prospect by the name of Jasper, and he’s working his way up to becoming a member or something.
“So he has to do all the crappy jobs?” I ask him quietly, after Jasper hands Ace a beer.
“We’ve all been there,” he explains. “We gotta weed out the men from the boys, so we make the men who want to be members prospect for a year.”
“Gotcha,” I say, grabbing my beer from the table I’d left it on as music starts blaring from a big set of speakers. “This place is perfect for parties and gatherings. You guys must have so much fun.”
I wonder how exactly they make their money for the club. I’ve been wanting to ask but was waiting for the right moment, so I don’t look overly nosy.
“We do a bit more than just party,” he murmurs, and I don’t miss the amusement in his tone.
I’m an opportunist.
I take the opening. “Like what?”
“We have a few businesses we run,” he says, drinking from his bottle. “We have to make money. We hustle. We work hard. And we reap the benefits.”
I take a swig of my own drink and am about to ask him what type of businesses when I start coughing uncontrollably.
“Ace,” I manage to gasp out in a panic.
Something isn’t right.
The last thing I remember is falling.
And Ace catching me.
11
My eyes flutter open slowly, sunlight hitting them. I lift my hand to my throat and stroke the sensitive skin with my index finger, almost making sure everything is where it’s meant to be.
“Oh, good. I’m alive,” I rasp, my voice cracking, and my whole body void of energy.
“And thank fuck you are,” Gage says from my right. I turn my head and look at him, and he looks a mess. I wonder who looks worse out of the two of us. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life, Erin. And I’ve had a gun held to my head before.” He pauses. “More than once.”
Wait, what?
“What happened?” I ask him, remembering my last moments. “I was chatting with Ace, and then . . .”
I look around the hospital room I’m in.
Shit, am I sick?
Did my binge-drinking and overeating ways finally catch up with me? I’ve had a good run, but to be honest I thought I’d have a few more years in me.
“You passed out,” he tells me, concern in his familiar blue eyes. He rubs them with both hands and sighs. “They think someone tried to poison you.”
I blink once.
Twice.
I shake my head. “No, that can’t be possible.”
“The doctor isn’t going to lie, Erin. They found traces of poison in your system, but luckily you didn’t drink any more of your beer or you might not be here right now. Your mother has been calling nonstop, but I’ve told her not to worry. I might have . . . uhhh . . . downplayed what happened a little.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him. I love my mom, but I don’t need her here right now, being all dramatic and blaming everything on Dad and my apparent terrible decision-making skills. “Why would someone want to poison me? I thought I was great last night, I was polite and chatted with anyone I came into contact with!”
I even controlled my resting bitch face.
“You were perfect, Erin,” he assures me, looking confused. Probably at the fact that I’m defending my hosting skills when I have bigger things to worry about right now.
Like who wants me dead.
Someone must have put something in my drink when I went to the bar with Ace to get him a beer.
Ace.
“Where is . . . everyone, Dad?” I ask him, not wanting to ask right out where Ace is.
His eyes widen as I call him that for the first time. It actually just slipped out naturally. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly not knowing what to say. “I . . . I like you calling me that, Erin.”
I manage a smile. “Good.”
“Ace, Knuckles, and Rogue are in the waiting room,” he tells me. “Ace hasn’t left since we brought you in. My men are already loyal to you, which is why I’m so fucking confused and angry that this has happened.” He stands up and starts to pace, his hands clenched to fists. “And when I find out who did this . . .”
He starts muttering about killing the person, slowly, in detail.
I hold my hands out in front of me. “Dad, you don’t need to kill anyone. So someone poisoned my drink . . . happens all the time, right? You don’t need to go to prison over it.”
Okay, it doesn’t happen all the time. And it’s kind of a serious matter, because someone wants me dead. I’ve only been here two nights, and someone already wants me gone. The question is, why? The people in the MC are all trusted by Gage, but like he said, other people do attend the parties he throws. He warned me. I didn’t see this coming though—how could I? This just goes to show how little I know about this world, and the fact that I’ve been waltzing around here like it was just a normal party concerns me. I felt untouchable with my dad, Ace, and the other men around me, but I’ve been stupid.
Dad keeps pacing, which makes me feel a little anxious. I just want him to be the calm one so I can freak out. Both of us can’t freak out; someone needs to remain in control. Panicking right now won’t help the situation.
And would he really kill someone? Has he killed someone?
“Why don’t you go get some rest, Dad,” I tell him. “You look dead on your feet. We can plan your slow torture when you wake up.”
He stops his pacing and walks over to me. When he gives me the biggest, warmest hug in the world, I can’t help it, I lose any pretense of control over my emotions and I start to cry. This is the first time we’ve embraced, which
makes it all the more emotional.
“This is your fault for hugging me,” I tell him, wiping my eyes. “Don’t you know when someone is trying to keep it together, hugging always makes it worse?”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmurs, standing, sadness in his eyes. “The men will stay to guard you while I go home, shower, and change. Then I’ll be right back here. Doctor said we should be able to take you home tonight.”
“Okay,” I reply, sniffling. “Thanks.”
He bows his head. “Don’t thank me, Erin. This is all my fault.”
“Unless you tried to poison me, no, it’s not,” I tell him.
“You know, before this, I would have confidently stated that I wasn’t scared of anything. Now I know that that’s not the truth.”
Emotion hits me again, and the tears threaten to return. My voice is hoarse as I say, “Well, wouldn’t want to make things easy on you, right?”
He tries to summon a smile but fails, then walks out of my hospital room. Not a minute passes before Ace is by my side, and I’m safe in his arms.
“Fucking hell, princess,” he rasps, pulling me against him.
“I’m fine.”
“You were poisoned—I don’t think that constitutes being fine,” he chastises, kissing the top of my head.
I love when guys do that. Top of my head, my forehead, or my temple, all loving, gentle actions that hit me right in the gut every time.
“I’m alive though,” I whisper. “They’re going to need something a little stronger than poison.”
“They’re going to need a fucking army, because now that we know someone is trying to hurt you, we’re all going to be on alert,” he says, clenching his teeth together. He softens his voice and tells me, “But you don’t worry about any of that. You rest and get stronger. Let me worry about the rest of it.”
And this is what I needed.
He holds me, and I feel safe. He remains calm, which lessens my anxiety, and I start to feel in control again. I exhale and close my eyes.
Someone tried to kill me.
It’s fine.
My eyes dart open.
No, it’s not fine.
If I go home now, is that letting them win and giving them what they want? It’s probably my being smart and knowing that it’s not exactly safe in the clubhouse for me.
A clubhouse that my father is the president of. Shouldn’t it be the safest place for me in the world? Maybe it’s my naïveté showing, but I don’t think I should back down. If there’s someone in the clubhouse who’s not meant to be, someone who isn’t trustworthy or loyal, shouldn’t we weed them out?
“I want to find out who did it,” I whisper to Ace. “But the logical side of me is telling me to just go home now, that whatever happened has nothing to do with me.”
Except it does, because it happened to me. Is this someone trying to hurt my dad, or someone who just doesn’t want me in his life?
“We will,” he assures me, rubbing my back in comforting circles. “Don’t leave me just yet.”
“You going to taste-test all my food?” I joke, closing my eyes once more.
“If I have to. Prez isn’t going to let anyone into the clubhouse anymore except members until we find out who did this,” he explains to me softly. “And we’re going to install cameras, too.”
“What if it was one of the members though? What happens then?” I probably sound paranoid, but considering what just happened, I feel like it’s valid. I never thought something like this would ever happen to me in my entire life.
I guess if I stayed in my own world, it never would have.
“There’s only one world, princess,” Ace says, kissing my forehead.
I melt, but I don’t agree with him. Maybe for him that statement is true. But for me, this is something completely different.
“I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud,” I say with a yawn.
“Sleep, I’ll watch over you,” he says, fixing my pillow and ushering me to lie back down. “Rogue and Knuckles were waiting to see you too, but I can tell them to wait until you’ve woken up.”
“No, let them come in,” I tell him, yawning again. “It’s nice that they’re here.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, studying me for a few long seconds, an odd look on his face. Different emotions flash through his eyes before he lowers his head and kisses me on the lips. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I smile sleepily. “No one was.”
He watches me a second, then leaves to call the men in.
Except I’m asleep before they return.
12
Do you know that you snore?” Rogue asks me as soon as I open my eyes. “I mean, I’m glad you’re breathing and all, but wow. Actually, you kind of sounded like a motorbike engine, so I guess that’s impressive.”
I rub my eyes and glance around the room. “You know it’s not very gentlemanly to bring up the snoring. I just got poisoned. The poison made me do it. So basically, my snoring is your fault.”
His brow furrows. “How did you come to this conclusion exactly?”
I shuffle up so I’m sitting against the back of the bed, my pillows against my lower back. “Someone in your clubhouse poisoned me. I hear you’re the VP, so it’s kind of on you too, right?”
That sobers him, even though I only meant it as a joke. “Whoever did this will be dealt with accordingly.” He pauses, winces, and adds, “Unless your dad or Ace gets to them first. Then they will be dead.”
“I don’t want anyone dying because of me.”
“They won’t be. They’ll be dying because of their own actions,” he says, but adds a grin to soften his harsh words.
“You know how you’re VP? What does Ace do for the club?” I ask him.
“He’s the treasurer. Handles all the money that comes in and out. He’s smart and has a thing for numbers.”
“Oh,” I murmur, mind getting distracted.
I know he’s smart, and I like that about him.
I sigh deeply, and Rogue must take it as me worrying, because he continues to assure me.
“Don’t worry about it, Erin. We will handle things our way. None of it is on you, and whoever did this knew that there would be dire repercussions. They still did it. We don’t want people like this around us. We need to trust all the men and women, or we’ve got nothing. And Ace and Knuckles are talking to your doctor, who is being difficult and not wanting to release you into our care.”
I smirk and raise my brows. “Would you release anyone into your care?”
He flashes a slow-spreading, panty-dropping smile. “Fuck no.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I reply, shifting on the pillows to get more comfortable. “You know what would make me feel better?”
“No, but I feel like you’re going to tell me,” he replies in a dry tone, leaning forward to give me his full attention.
“If you sang a song,” I say, trying to look sad and blinking my eyes in exaggeration. “It might take my mind off things, you know?”
He leans back in the chair, arms on each rest. “Is that so? You want me to bust out a song for you, no guitar, nothing?”
I nod.
He looks to the door, then back at me. “Any of them walk in I’m stopping, and this never happened.”
“Deal.”
“Song?”
“You choose,” I tell him, resting my palm on my chin and waiting patiently.
He tilts his head to the side, looking a little boyish. “I know what song will cheer you up.”
When he opens his mouth and starts to sing “We Know the Way” from the Moana movie, I smile so wide my cheeks start to hurt, and I hang on to his every word. His voice is so beautiful, and I absolutely love that he, the VP of a motorcycle club, knows the words to a Disney song.
When it comes to an end, I clap and he shakes his head, a small grin playing on his lips. “It’s Westley’s favorite song right now, and when she was sick a few weeks back, I learned it so I could si
ng it to her in the hospital.”
I reach my hand out to touch his. “You’re something else, Rogue. You’re a big softie on the inside, aren’t you?”
“No,” he denies.
“Just a little bit?” I push, batting my eyelashes. “Maybe just for girls in hospitals?”
He laughs quietly, his shoulders shaking. “Yes, that must be it. Must be my weakness.”
“We all have a weakness,” I tell him, giving his hand a squeeze before returning mine to my lap. “Do you know what mine is?”
“Ace?” he asks with a bold look.
“Actually, I was going to say poison,” I reply, narrowing my eyes and lifting my chin. “But very funny.”
“Not one funny thing about that whole situation, sweetheart,” he says, just as his phone rings. He answers it with a sharp hello, then an “Okay, we’ll be there soon,” before hanging up. I’m glad for the distraction, because I don’t even want to think about his previous comment.
“Who was it?” I ask, fiddling with the blanket on top of me.
“Shovel,” he says, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“Do they call him Shovel because that’s how he kills people? Like, hits them over the head with a shovel? Or maybe he just buries any dead bodies with a shovel?” I ask, trying to come up with any other reasons a man would use a shovel. “Or maybe he used to work in a cemetery as a groundskeeper or something.”
Rogue blinks slowly a few times and with a straight face, murmurs, “Actually we call him Shovel because he rides a Shovelhead.” He pauses, then adds, “As in a motorcycle.”
“Oh,” I reply, shoulders hunching.
“You seem unhappy with the real reason. Did you want him to kill people with shovels?” he asks, looking on the verge of laughter. “You have a big imagination, Erin. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“My tenth-grade English teacher,” I reply, reaching out to grab the water on my side table. “I’d offer you a drink but all I have is this.”
Ace of Hearts (The Cursed Ravens MC Series Book 1) Page 8
