Ace: Devil’s Nightmare MC

by Bourne, Lena

  His thrusts get faster and wilder, his breathing hoarse and erratic, and his groans are matching my moans. We’re creating a song and dance that only the two of us know.

  The waves of pleasure his cock wakes inside me don’t douse the healing fires his kisses and caresses woke in me. No, they feed them, stoking them higher until they burn bright and red hot, so dazzling they’re blinding.

  I see nothing, hear nothing, yet feel everything, as they consume me in an explosion like air and water and fire meeting, the sparkles of pleasure hot enough to rip my skin to shreds. Yet pain is the direct opposite of this feeling. Pure bliss, pure pleasure, the best thing in the world, don’t come close to describing the sensations coursing through me as heat from the fire we created licks at me, as sparks from it float all around us, landing softly in the river of pleasure that’s creating a bed for us as our breathing calms and his cock grows soft inside me.

  I am complete having known this pleasure.

  I need nothing more now.

  Except I do. I need more of him, want more of him, just like this over and over until we’re old and grey, until we are no more.

  And as he lifts his head to gaze into my eyes, his swirling blue like a beautiful summer day sky covered by fluffy white clouds, and all the warmth and pleasure of a perfect day, I think we both want the same thing. No. I know we do.

  * * *

  At first, the rocking of the bed gets incorporated into my dream. But it has no place in the serene, summertime scene I’m dreaming of. We’re on the beach, Ace and I, free and in love in a perfect place that’s painted all in pastel hues of violet, pink and white. No earthquake can harm that place.

  “Ace, wake the fuck up!” Horse shouts harshly.

  Just the sound of his voice tramples over my dreams with the nightmare that’s my waking life.

  “Get up, we gotta go,” Horse urges again and by this time Ace is trying to sit up, while still disentangling himself from the blankets and failing at both. His eyes aren’t quite open yet, but mine are open wide. And my heart is racing like it’s never raced before. I think I might die from it.

  “What’s going on?” Ace asks groggily. There’s no trace of fear in his voice, just annoyance at being woken like this. But he should be afraid. He should be deathly scared. This is Horse’s revenge for what he did tonight. For choosing to be with me. For claiming me for his own. He’s gonna die now. I try to warn him, but my throat is closed up so tight, I can’t even get a breath in.

  “We got a job to do,” Horse says. “Come outside.”

  Ace tries to stand, but I clutch his arm with both my hands, digging my nails into his skin.

  “What the fuck, Stormi?” he asks angrily, but his face is nothing but compassion as his eyes meet mine.

  “Relax, it’s fine,” he whispers while Horse retreats to the door.

  “There’s no time to talk to the bitch now,” Horse says from over by the door. “Get dressed and come outside.”

  “Don’t go. No,” I plead breathlessly, struggling to get at least that many words out. I still can’t breathe right. He’s prying my fingers off his arm.

  “I gotta go,” he says, his voice still slurred with sleep. Or maybe from the kisses we shared. My own lips are still swollen and tingling from those. The last kisses I ever get? The last and best kisses I’ve ever had?

  “No!” I almost scream, grabbing his arm harder.

  “It’s gonna be fine,” he tells me, but now I don’t hear certainty and safety in his voice like I always do. “It’s just a job.”

  “He’s gonna kill you,” I whisper. “He’s gonna kill you because you didn’t leave me alone like he wanted you to.”

  His eyes as they fix on mine are too serious to be reassuring.

  “He might try,” he tells me. “Let me go now.”

  I can’t do it, I won’t.

  “Come on, Stormi,” he says quietly, reassuringly, his calm eyes telling me nothing is wrong, that the peaceful, gorgeous place I dreamed for the two of us is still waiting out there.

  He pulls his arm from my grasp as I loosen my grip and gets up and starts searching for his clothes. I leap up, tear his jeans from his hands just as he picks them up.

  “You can’t go, I won’t let you go.” I’m trying not to scream the words, but it’s hard. He needs to listen, he needs to do what I’m asking him to do. Or we both die.

  He takes his jeans from my hands firmly, locking his serious eyes with mine. “Stop with the hysterics, Stormi. Everything’s gonna be fine. I gotta hurry, but I’ll be back before morning.”

  The cold certainty in his words slaps against my fear and takes most of its force. But I’m still shaking, shivering all over as I watch him dress.

  He’s made his choice and nothing I say, no amount of my fear, no, not just fear, terror, will stop him. I’ll never see him again. My slice of happiness, joy, belonging, everything I ever wanted, turned out to be just a bite, a tiny little morsel, only big enough to give me a taste, a tiny little taste. I should’ve known that’s how it’d be. Nothing good in my life lasts. Ever. Why would this?

  He keeps eyeing me warily while he dresses, since he’s probably afraid I’ll start shrieking again. Once his boots are on, he comes over and lays his palms on my cheeks, forcing me to look into his eyes.

  “I’m gonna be fine. I know how to handle myself,” he tells me in a whisper. “But I want you to go to our spot on the beach. Dress warm, take a blanket, and wait for me. I’ll meet you there soon.”

  Our spot, he called it. My spot. I like our spot better.

  He kisses me hard, putting all the passion and bliss and pleasure and perfectness we shared last night into a tiny package that I can keep near my heart, in my soul, forever. Then he breaks the kiss and strides out, leaves the room with no backward glance. A little while later, bikes rumble to life outside, making the thin walls around me vibrate. I’m still standing in the exact same spot where he left me long after the sound and vibrations of their bikes have faded into silence.

  He was afraid. Maybe he was just as afraid as I was. But he didn’t show it. Good. The fear will make him be careful. It probably won’t be enough to prevent the worst though.

  I walk to the chair all my clothes are piled up on and start pulling them out at random, automatically. I’ll do what he told me to do. I’ll dress warmly, take a blanket and go to the beach. I’ll wait for him to join me there in the morning. But I have no hope that I’ll ever see him again. I wish for it with everything that I am. But I have no hope.

  I killed him by being here for him to claim. Like I killed my sister by being her twin, and sucking up too much of the food she also needed to be healthy. Like I killed Josh by suggesting we steal the money from Horse. Like I killed my sister all over again by getting trapped here by the Sinners instead of staying free to make sure she gets the money she needs to live.

  I’m a curse. I’m bad luck for everyone and everything I touch. I shouldn’t live. But when Horse comes back later today and Ace doesn’t, I’m going to kill that bastard. I’ll at least do that much right before I die for real.

  13

  Ace

  Piston and Horse were waiting for me astride their bikes when I came out. I mounted mine and followed them out of the lot. Only the headlight of Piston’s bike as he rides up front is breaking up the pitch darkness, and the rumbling of our bikes sounds like an earthquake in the deep night silence. Down the gravel road we ride, and then along an empty, sleeping country road that winds under the freeway and then into the nothingness of empty, uninhabited nature. Normally, I love rides like this, in deep night, with nothing but the sleeping world all around me, but not tonight.

  The terror in Stormi’s eyes, once I woke up enough to see it, along with the fearful voice with which she begged me not to go with Horse, transferred into me, fed my own fear that Horse woke me up in the middle of the night so he can kill me with no witnesses. I saved his life, and his brother’s life, their father welcomed me
into the club, the execs did too. It’d make no sense that they’d want to kill me in secret and in the dark. But Horse would. He’d kill me in secret and they’d never know unless he told them. I came in like a strike of lightning, and I could go out the same way, leaving no trace. But why? For sleeping with a club whore?

  Piston and Horse are both riding in front of me, neither glancing back to see if I’m still following. I could take off and they probably wouldn’t find me again, but that’s not an option for me. I’d be letting down Cross and leaving Stormi for Horse to torment. No way I’m doing either, but I do keep glancing back to see if anyone else is following us. Someone to help Horse and Piston off me. Or one of my brothers, watching my back. I don’t see or hear either. Behind us there’s only the darkness and silence of the world asleep.

  Horse isn’t exactly a logical guy. Or very smart for that matter. Piston is worse, though more innocent. But he’d help him kill me if his brother asked him to. Of that I have no doubt. I got a knife in my boot, but both my Glocks are in my saddle bags. Digging them out is the first thing I’m gonna do when we stop. I should’ve done it before I mounted my bike. Stupid and careless. That’s what gets you killed, not the skill or planning of your enemy. It’s always your own stupidity and carelessness. All Devils know that. I know it. When exactly did I forget?

  No one’s behind us, but what if they’re already waiting where ever they’re taking me?

  When the fuck did I get this stupid? When I first saw Stormi’s perfectly round ass, that’s when. And then that blowjob just sealed the deal, turned my brain to soggy mush and sent all logic straight out the window. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’d never trade what she does for me, to me, the way she makes me feel like I’m an eighteen-year-old punk all over again, full of power and certainty, with not a single damn regret in my mind, nor a damn ounce of pain. I certainly wouldn’t trade it for the cold steel of a Glock pressed against my skin. If I die tonight, I’ll die a satisfied man.

  Just as I think that, Horse and Piston slow down in front of me, the red brake lights of their bikes blindingly bright in the darkness. Is this it? Is this where it ends for me? On the side of a country road with thick, unkempt shrubs closing in from both sides, obscuring everything but the straight line of the road.

  Nope. Not yet.

  Piston’s right signal light comes on and he turns down another road, one I didn’t even see because of the shrubs. They’re growing even thicker and higher along this road. But before I can start worrying about where this road ends, we emerge into a small park at the start of a quiet suburban street lined with low, dark houses. The street itself is dark too, all the streetlamps already out for the night.

  Horse and Piston park their bikes in the slightly deeper darkness of a cluster of palm trees. I do the same. No way they’re killing me here. Even they’re not that dumb.

  “We’re walking the rest of the way,” Horse informs me and starts walking, but I grab his arm and make him halt.

  “What’s this about? What are we doing here?” I ask.

  He glares at me like he won’t answer, then slowly looks down at my hand on his arm. I tighten my grip instead of letting him go like he’s suggesting I do. This man-boy is begging for someone to bring him to heel, and it looks like it’s gonna have to be me, right now.

  “We’re gonna send a little message to the Knights,” Piston tells me, shooting his brother a defiant look when Horse transfers his glare to him.

  “What kind of message?” I ask. “Griff said we’re not gonna go against them yet.”

  “Well, it’s like this—” Piston starts explaining, but Horse cuts in with, “They attacked us, me and Piston, and we have every right to strike back. Fuck what Griff and the rest of those old bastards say. We have a right to retaliate and that’s what we’re gonna do. Right now. Tonight. We’re gonna send a clear message that we’re not to be messed with. If the old man stopped to think about it, or if he didn’t get so damn careful in his old age, this would be done right away. But I’m done being careful. No one messes with me and gets away with it.”

  He winces and looks down at his arm. I didn’t even realize I tightened my grip on his arm some more. Stupid and careless. Again. Why the fuck would Ace the Spawn care if the Knights get hurt? He wouldn’t, but I do. That’s Ink’s family. I have no idea how I’m gonna prevent what’s about to happen. I just know I gotta.

  Horse is beetroot red in the face again, I can see that clearly even in the near darkness. I let go of his arm and take a step back. For now, I’ll go along with whatever prank he has planned for the Knights. In this quiet residential street, he can’t hope for much more than that. Maybe he’s only planning to mess up someone’s car. Maybe it’s not really anything to worry about.

  And him bringing me along for this also means he trusts me. Stormi will be happy to hear that. I’ve never seen a woman as worried over anything as she was when Horse came to get me. Worried for me, off all things. None were ever that worried about me, not even my aunt. It’s a good feeling, having a woman worry about you, I never imagined it might be.

  “I see where you’re coming from,” I tell him. “Your father’s shouldn’t stop you from getting revenge. So, how are we gonna mess with them?”

  Horse taps the backpack he’s wearing. “We’re gonna set a car bomb.”

  Fucking shit!

  “Under whose car?” I ask, hoping I sound interested and not fucking terrified.

  That’s way more than just messing with them. It’s murder. Possibly of a member of Ink’s family. Here’s my dark and twisted luck at work again. How close did I come to not being invited along to this thing for messing around with Stormi? Too close. How far am I from being able to warn Ink? Fucking light years away. How close am I to breaking my cover? I’m right the fuck there, because I’m gonna stop this.

  The brothers exchange a look.

  “Does it matter to you?” Piston asks. “You don’t know any of them.”

  Is he catching on to how panicked I am?

  I shrug and cast what I hope is a disinterested glance over the neighborhood. “If it’s their president or one of the execs then you’ll be starting a war. Are you sure you want that?”

  They exchange another look. “It’s just the mother of the guy who threatened us. No one’s gonna go to war to avenge her.”

  Now my hearts racing a mile a minute, and I’m having trouble drawing a full breath. But I mask my agitation with a lie that’s the only truth these guys know about me.

  “The Devils would, if he’s one of them. You don’t want to face the Devils until you’re ready. The execs and your father say you’re not ready,” I tell them, hoping my panic is showing like fear of the Devils as I grab Horse’s arm again. “This is a stupid idea.”

  Horse rips his arm from my grasp. “What the fuck are you sayin’? Isn’t a war with the Devils what you’re looking for? Well, tonight you’re gonna get it.”

  I just keep getting stupider and stupider. He’s completely right. Ace the Spawn is supposed to fucking yearn for a war with the Devils.

  “I do,” I whisper loudly. “But I wanna win it too.”

  I hope that’s enough of a cover for my stupidity.

  “We will,” Horse assures me then stalks off down the dark street, Piston following on his heels. After I get my breathing back under control I follow too.

  I gotta prevent this. Cross wouldn’t want me to risk Ink’s mother to keep my cover, I know that. But he’d also want me to find a way to sort it out without blowing my cover.

  I take deep, steadying breaths as I walk. The type of work Devil’s Nightmare MC does almost always requires improvising on the spot. I’ve been in countless situations that were more hopeless and more dire than this. I’ll know the solution when I see it. I just gotta stay calm and focused and trust that. My twisted luck has kept me whole and alive until now. No matter what I was facing. And I can always trust my twisted luck.

  Piston and Horse stop be
hind a bushy hedge separating one white-paneled house from another. The hedge is about four feet tall and they’re crouching behind it like it’s hiding them perfectly even though any idiot with half a brain can see it’s not offering much cover at all. A dark sedan is parked in the driveway of the house beyond the hedge, the one which they’re both staring at. That’s gotta be our target.

  Think, Ace. Think fast.

  I’ve never been good at this kind of split second decisions, the kind of instantaneous improvising on the spot that this calls for. All sorts of stupid shit is going through my mind, like faking a seizure, letting my gun go off accidentally…shit, my gun, I forgot it again.

  “That’s the car?” I ask as I join them behind the hedge.

  “Yeah,” Piston affirms. The sound of Horse unzipping his cut sounds to me loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. He pulls out a rectangular package wrapped in black cloth. It’s no bigger than his hand, and only about three times wider.

  “This is the bomb?” I ask.

  “And you know what to do with it?” I follow up after he nods.

  Horse glares at me. I can hardly see his eyes, but I feel the anger in his gaze. “What’s with all the questions, huh, Ace? Are you scared of a little car bomb? Aren’t you supposed to be a badass from a badass club?”

  The sarcasm in his voice, the doubting, mocking tone with which he asked his question would offend the man I’m pretending to be. It takes me a second to realize that.

  “Yes, Satan’s Spawn MC was as badass an MC as they come,” I say sharply. “That’s why I know a thing or two about setting car bombs, or bombs in general. There’s no shame in being careful with a bomb. It’s not the same as being a coward.”

  I almost called them a couple of fuck ups, but then it came to me. Like a bolt of lighting, like I should’ve trusted it would.