Beware 2: The Comeback (18 page)

"I told you," she muttered, still upset, her makeup smeared. "He's not the same. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting. I guess I was hoping the old Ace would show up and be just a little more careless about it." She shrugged it off, but before walking past me, she said, "I know he won't hurt me. And I also know he won't hurt you. But that doesn't mean he can’t be selfish or inconsiderate, especially now since he's been through hell and back."

During my drive to the hotel, I pondered on what she said. I became worried.

And, now, here I am, unsure of what to expect once I make my way into his hotel. Will he pretend nothing ever happened? Will he finally tell me what the hell happened that kept him away from us for three heartbreaking years? Who took him away and traumatized him so badly?

I don't know. It's even harder to read him now.

As I exit the elevator and make my way to his room, I notice his door is ajar. I pause, my heart racing. My automatic assumption is that he's been snatched right out of my life again, so I dash forward, barging into the hotel room.

Breathing raggedly, I scan the place until my eyes land on Ace, standing in front of the balcony window, watching the sea. Relief floods my entire body as I breathe the word, "Shit."

Ace glances over his shoulder briefly, avoiding my eyes, then looks back out the window. I expect him to speak first, only he doesn't. He just stares outside. He's changed clothes—a white T-shirt and black
Nike
jogging pants. Whether I came or not, he wasn’t going to go out to cause hell.

"Ace?" I call, shutting the door behind me and stepping forward. "What's wrong? Why was the door open? I thought something happened."

He doesn't speak right away. I swallow hard, taking a step forward, watching as he sinks his fingers into his pants pockets. "Knew you'd be here soon."

I meet up to him, forcing him to face me, concern seizing my emotions. "Talk to me," I beg, staring up into his eyes. Unfortunately, he doesn't meet mine. He's looking everywhere but at me.

"She says I'm not worthy of you or Aden." His voice is dull and coarse. "She says that I've changed." He laughs dryly, shaking his head. "Not sure what the fuck she expects from me after all the shit I went through just to be standing here. Alive."

I grab his hands, spotting the hidden pain in his eyes. "Tell me what happened."

"Can't."

"If I'm remembering correctly, you told me you no longer believed in that word when it came to us." I raise a brow, squeezing his hands in mine.

He mimics my expression, straightening his spine. Stepping forward, he cups my face in his hands, his face depressing a little. “I’m trying,” he whispers.

I sink my cheek into his hand, nodding. “I know you are.”

“Didn’t realize I’d hurt her so much. I thought my disappearance would actually make her feel better. Safer without me around.”

“She still loves you,” I assure him. She does. I know she does. I’m not sure what’s going on with Bianca, but it’s starting to confuse me too.

“You love me, right?” he asks.

“I do. You know I do.”

His mouth hovers above mine. Quickly, our lips meet, and he hooks an arm around my waist, bringing me closer. His tongue immediately plunges into my mouth, tasting me, devouring me. Groaning, he cups my ass in hand. Placing my arms around his broad shoulders, I sigh behind the kiss. So tender. So… deliciously perfect.

Pulling away, his lips press together as he studies me for a brief moment.

“What?” I ask.

He releases me then he turns around and makes his way to the recliner near the wall. After taking a seat and sighing, he demands me to come to him.

Confused, I turn his way, but I don't budge. "Why?"

"Come here, London," he repeats.

His eyes lock on mine, jaw flexed. I decide it’s best to keep him calm. I want him to relax around me, not get worked up. I make my way to him, and just as I start to climb on his lap, he forces me back. I frown, staring down at him. “What’s wrong?"

"Bend down."

Hesitant, I watch his eyes spark with heated desire. I lower to my knees, gripping the top of his thighs as I kneel between them. I know what he wants next. The look on his face—the look in his eyes— is telling me everything. He wants me. Only me.

Elevating his hips, he allows me to pull his pants down as well as his briefs. Once they pile around his ankles, I lean forward, inhaling his fresh, manly scent. God, he smells so good.

"Relieve me." His voice, so deep yet so provoking, causes heat to travel down to my panties. "Satisfy me, Red. All this shit I have pent up... I need some fucking release. Understand that?"

I nod. "I do." I run the palms of my hands up his sculpted thighs. "I'm here to take care of you," I whisper, my body relaxing, voice pure and seductive. "I'm here, Ace. You have me."

He watches me, watches as I form my lips into a small “o” and envelop the head of his cock, licking the glistening, salty pre-cum away. His eyes shut for a mere moment, and he stiffens before opening them again, watching me like a hawk would its prey.

My gaze locks on his, fixing my lips, flattening my tongue, and taking his entire length into my mouth. I gag around his thickness, which obviously pleases him because he lets out a deep, guttural groan.

I don't stop.

I suck him, going up and down, from the head to the base. My hand wraps around his massive cock, the veins bulging in my palm, while the other hand teases and cups his flawless, round balls.

"Fuck, Red." His body locks. I suck harder, bringing my head back up and circling the tip. A warm, tangy flavor spreads across my taste buds, and I grip his thigh, moaning around him, enjoying every second of this delicious man in my mouth.

Ace curses beneath his breath, his hand coming to the back of my head, forcing it down. Gradually fucking my mouth, he dives down to my throat, creating a choking and gagging noise.

But, again, I don't stop. I've missed this pleasurable pain. This hardcore fucking. I've missed Ace. I will never take what I have for granted. Especially him. Such a crazy, yet internally sweet, man. I'm a witness to the sweet side of Ace. The dominant side along with the almost innocent.

Groaning, Ace slams his massive cock into my mouth, picking up his hips and drilling. He clutches my hair in his hands until, finally, he roars out my personal nickname, and seconds later, something warm and thick spills down throat. I swallow every ounce of him until he finally goes limp between my lips.

Letting me go, he slouches back in the recliner with a heavy sigh, and the back of my hand swipes across my mouth as I stand.

Sighing again, Ace says, "Fucking incredible, London." He tugs my arm, bringing me down on his lap. I laugh as he places small kisses on my cheek and trails them down to my neck and chest. He kisses me repeatedly, like he truly is in love with me, until he comes to a standstill. I look down at him as he looks up at me, honey eyes stern. "Tonight," he states. "Tonight I will tell you everything."

Life Support – Sam Smith

Damn.

I never thought I’d be able to make it to this point. It fucking terrifies me to think that London will actually consider me weak. I was locked up against my will.

Beaten.

Abused.

Shamed.

Fucked over.

Allowing her to know the real story is showing her the real me. The raw Ace Crow. Who knew that part of me even existed? I feel pathetic.

I decide it’s best to take London out for some food since we didn’t eat any of the pizza Bianca ordered. We’re both wearing casual clothes. I could’ve changed, but I want her comfortable for what I have to tell her, so we end up at a small diner with an ocean view.

The pale crescent moon is high in the sky, the water shimmering like glitter as I look out. The breeze picks up, and London shivers. “Cold?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Just the wind. Gets crazy at night.”

I shrug out of my jacket, stand, and place it on her shoulders. She looks up at me, eyes gentle and innocent, tugging the collar tight. “You didn’t have to.”

I smile as I pull a chair up beside her. “My lady needs to be comfortable.” My line of sight drifts to the half-eaten burger and french fries on the plate in front of me and then up at her. Her lips are graced with a small smile, her eyes still gentle. Turning towards me, London grabs my hand, providing comfort.

She’s so supportive. Other than Bianca, I’ve never had anyone have my back the way she does. I live for her. I love her. She is my life support.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Her voice is sympathetic. Soft. Far from what I am.

“Ready now.” I inhale then exhale, sitting up a little and staring ahead. I watch the water ripple, the people walking along the shore of the beach. My heart thunders against my ribcage as I relive one particular night.

Voices.

Darkness.

Frustration.

There was a man… another voice. Someone else was there.

“There was someone else coming around,” I start, eyes wide, stuck on the waves.

London adjusts in her seat through my peripheral, and when I don’t speak again, she inquires, “Who?”

I turn my gaze on her. “Someone other than Nixon West. He’s the one that actually took me, stitched me up for his own sake, and then broke me again. Nixon West was a dirty cop. A fat fuck that’d wanted to take my father down so badly he ended up getting fired because of it. He killed some of my father’s men whenever he saw them alone. Every two months or so, my father had to hire someone new. No one of the law believed it was him killing them, but we knew because he constantly threatened us by dropping by and showing his gun off like we were suppose to be afraid of him. One time, before I took over Crow, he told my father he couldn’t wait to watch the business burn—to watch it all fall into his hands. I didn’t make sense of it then because I knew his fat ass couldn’t take us down alone, but I should’ve had my eyes peeled. I should’ve had someone watching him. None of this shit ever would’ve happened if I’d stepped up.”

“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs.

“All of it is my fault, London. I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve underestimated anyone that threatened me, including Bridges.” Peter Bridges, the one that tried ruining my plans in New York before I completely fell for London and lost Crow. She blinks, unsure of what to say. So I continue. “Anyway, I couldn’t make out the other voice very well. It’s like he kept his distance for a reason. My guess is because I know him well and he knows exactly what I’m capable of. Whoever he was, he had to be the one in charge. He ordered Nixon around. He probably promised him something—cash or some shit. After you left from the alley, he argued with his former partner in the alley before he shot and killed him. Said he was greedy and couldn’t share. He used Parks’s dead body, dressed him in my clothes, and then set fire to the whole place to make it look like a natural cause—a bullet shooting into one of the car engines. My guess is they didn’t run a DNA test. He had people that owed him in the force. ”

“That’s why they wouldn’t let us take your ashes,” she breathes.

I nod. “Probably. He didn’t want anyone coming after me if they heard the ashes weren’t mine. He wanted to torture me for however long it took to get answers out of me.” I shut my eyes, remembering how, after whoever the man in charge was left, West came storming down the hallway, barged into the cell, picked my restless body up and slammed me against the rough brick wall.
“I will fucking kill you and everyone you love one by one if you don’t tell me what the fuck I wanna hear! Right now!”
he barked in my face. Each time, I’d spit at him, bash him. Never give him anything.

I flinch as if it’s happening all over again, and London squeezes my hand. When I open my eyes to look at her, I realize I’m safe. That I’m not there. I’m past it.

She doesn’t speak, but her eyes beg me to continue. The waitress comes to us, asking if we want anything else. To carry on our alone time, London requests a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Once the waitress disappears, I continue. “He had me locked up, demanding me to tell him who I made trades and transactions with… all my connections. He wanted codes that only I had. For some reason, people in the drug and gun business trusted me more than they did others. They let me in. Appreciated me.” I rub my wrist, the imaginary shackles still there. “He wanted to know where my money was. Everything. He wanted me to give every fucking thing up.” I scoff. “Like I was some weak pussy he could break easily. I’m not weak. And whoever is in charge knows that. Three years and I still didn’t break.”

“That last day you saw me in that alley, so much shit went down.” I swallow hard, my eyes flickering up to meet London’s. Hers fill with guilt. “This was planned long before I ever met you, London. It just happened while we were together. Bad timing.” My head shakes, silent laughter making me vibrate. “You saw Wes get shot, but when you left, Gerrick was shot and then me. Tye was last to be shot, but all my men—all of them—died right before my eyes. The men that had been most loyal to me. The men that I swore I would protect and take care of. The men I took in as if they were my brothers. The men that watched
my
fucking back every motherfucking day. They looked out for me… and now, they’re dead because of me. I promised their families… their children—” I look down, catching breath. “The person in charge wanted me to hurt. He knew this would happen. He wanted me to witness it, and he wanted me to suffer.”

I feel my eyes burning with unwanted tears, so I fight them off, sealing my eyelids and clenching my fists. London is quiet, but by the way she holds my hand, squeezing it as if to let me know she’s here, proves she understands.

“That is one of my many regrets,” I sigh. “Something I can’t fix. With you, I can fix things, or at least try. I can start over and be here for you and my son, but for them… I can’t. They’re dead. I can’t bring them back. I was too much of a pussy to go to their families in person and tell them they died because of me. I was fucking terrified to face them. People that truly loved them and always welcomed me in their homes with open arms, no questions asked. They knew I was a bad influence, but they accepted me.” Too afraid to look up, I avoid any eye contact with London. “He threatened to hurt you… West did. He was testing my limits. Taunting me. Telling me that you’d forgotten all about me, just like everyone else.”

“That’s not true,” she replies rapidly. “I thought about you every single day.”

“I know, Red.”

She eases up a little, sighing as she combs her fingers through the ends of her curly hair. “What happened… to West?”

Briefly, my eyes land on hers. “Killed him.” Then I look away. “Took his keys, his car, and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could. Should’ve used better shackles. Chains eventually snapped. Just like that, I was free. They had me in some abandoned home in Rhode Island.”

London remains quiet, which surprises me. I turn a little, looking at her again, expecting some kind of overreaction. But no. Her face is even. Content, almost as if she understands. What takes me by even more surprise is when she says, “You did what you had to do to get out of there, Ace. I can’t judge you for that. For anything.”

I don’t know why, but hearing her say that makes me feel ten times better. There was one time when she didn’t approve of killing, even if that person was putting us in harm’s way.

She accepts me for me. She knows I do what I have to do in order to survive. Had I killed Krane in the parking deck, we never would’ve been trapped in that alley.

But no. I gave him another chance. Why? Because I cared for him. Because there was one point when I trusted him, and I thought, once he came to, he’d come to his senses. I was wrong. He only wanted me dead. I now know better than to forgive right away. Those closest are our worst enemies.

“Why didn’t you just give in?” she whispers. “Why didn’t you just tell him where you kept your stuff? Who you trade with? The codes?”

I sit up in my seat, gritting my teeth. It’s hard keeping my temper down, but that question infuriates me. “London, I worked hard for my shit. I worked day and night to keep Crow in order and to see it all go to shit like that,” I lift my hands, palms up, “…to see it all literally burn down right in front of me? No, man.” I push away from the table. “Nah. Fuck that. I’d rather die than hand it over to someone else. Whoever planned it had been planning to take me down since day one of meeting me. My guess is that it’s Bridges. He was the only one that rubbed me the wrong way. Although a lowlife, he’s smart as fuck. He probably figured out who my enemies were, searched through the grapevine. Knew I shouldn’t have let that bitch go. He would’ve killed me regardless.”

London pulls on my arm, forcing me back down in my chair as she takes a quick look around the diner. I sit with a huff, and she sighs, her head falling and her hair curtaining around her face. I don’t like to see her like this. I don’t want her to think she’s the reason this all happened. Had she not begged me to let Peter go, he would be dead and none of this ever would’ve happened. No one would’ve been plotting to take me and Crow down. We would be happy together right now, living the simple life in some exotic place. The life two people who are truly in love are supposed to live.

No faults.

No guilt.

Just bliss.

Peace.

Happiness.

“This is not your fault.” I cup her face. She looks up, eyes glistening, on verge of tears. “I know that’s what you’re thinking, but it’s not.” I bring her forehead down, placing a tender kiss on the center. “Everything we go through happens for a reason. It’s life. Sometimes to make us stronger, like you. And sometimes to make us realize the good we have and to never let it go again, like me.”

She forces a smile at me, sniffling as she swipes at her nose. “I just can’t help but feel guilty. I mean, Peter makes sense, and he’s still out there somewhere. He hates you. He wanted to be you. He cared about those diamonds more than he cared about his own life. He risked his life once. I’m sure he’d do it again.”

I shrug, releasing her face and turning in my seat. The waiter steps up to the table with a small dish and places it in front of London. “Apple pie for ya,” she sings before dashing off to help a new set of customers.

London picks up a fork and pokes it in the center, but she doesn’t bother eating it. I’m sure I’ve just obliterated her appetite. “Three years,” she says, almost as if she can’t believe it. I don’t say anything. Can’t. “You know, when you first came back, I thought you were here to tell me you wanted out of my life. I thought, ‘Why the hell would Ace Crow come back right when my life is getting back on track?’” A scoff blows out of her. “Now, I get it. And, Ace, I’m so sorry.” Her voice breaks as she drops her fork. She grabs my face, and her thumbs stroke my jawbones, her eyes wet and pleading.