Ace of Hearts

by Chantal Fernando

  Ace steps next to me and lifts my chin with his hand. His fingers are warm and rough. He looks me right in the eye, and for a few seconds I’m lost in murky gray depths. “You know, her eyes are just like yours, Prez.”

  And he’s right, they are. Identical in color, shape, and even the thick lashes framing them. No one else in my family has blue eyes.

  “Everyone leave us,” Gage demands, then looks to the bed, as if only just remembering there’s a naked woman there. “Fuck. Actually, you come with me.” He points directly at me. “We’ll go talk in another room.”

  How considerate of him, although I’m glad to be rid of the woman whom he just apparently had sex with. Gross. I have no idea how she slept through this whole conversation, unless she’s intoxicated or something.

  I’m not going to touch that one.

  The men leave, back to the party I’m sure, but I don’t miss the lingering look Ace gives me before he disappears. I follow my father to a large, country-style kitchen, with cream benches and curtains, my arms wrapped around myself. Surprisingly no one is in there, and there is very little noise coming from the party. He sits down at the long wooden table, one so big it must have been custom-made, and I hesitate a moment before I do the same.

  “I want to talk to her.”

  I assume that the her in question is my mother. He would have seen her name on the birth certificate. Just to be sure, I decide to clarify.

  “Who?”

  “Louise,” he says softly, glancing back down at the paper he’s still clutching.

  “So do you remember her?” I ask, kind of surprised if he does. He’s clearly a man who has been through a lot of women. I wouldn’t be shocked if he couldn’t remember them all. While my mother didn’t go into the full story of their history, she said that they had a short but intense time together, but she never would have been able to handle his lifestyle. She left him and never looked back. I didn’t know what she’d meant then exactly, but I do now, and that’s only after being here for about thirty minutes. I’m actually surprised my straitlaced, religious mother was ever with someone like Gage. Although it’s probably completely inappropriate given the circumstances, I’m kind of impressed with her. I would never have guessed she had it in her.

  He studies me for a moment, an odd, almost wistful look on his face. “Yes, I remember her.”

  “Oh.”

  Well that’s a good thing, right? If he remembers her, maybe he cared for her in some way.

  And maybe he will do the same with me.

  I take my phone out of my pocket, dial her number, and hand it to him. As he’s waiting for her to pick up, I see how tense his jaw becomes, and I know that this probably isn’t going to go well. It’s not every day a man finds out he has a daughter, and the woman he had one with decided not to tell him. When my mother admitted that to me, I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my life. I don’t know how she justified that decision, but what she did is not, and never will be, okay. It wasn’t meant to be her choice alone to decide if I get to have Gage in my life or not.

  “Louise,” he barks into the phone, in a voice I haven’t heard him use thus far. A scary voice. Maybe this is his president voice. “Tell me this isn’t true. That you didn’t keep my fucking daughter from me for the last twenty-odd fucking years.”

  As his hand squeezes my phone, I look down at my own hands, unable to witness the display of emotion on his face. He looks truly upset that he didn’t know about me. Is this just a pride thing? Or would he have genuinely wanted to have me in his life? I’d never admit it to her, but now I can see why she took me away from all of this. It’s not exactly the environment you’d want a baby to grow up in. My whole life I’ve felt like something was missing. I had a good life, so I shouldn’t complain, but it still didn’t feel complete. How am I supposed to know who I am when I know only half of me?

  “I can’t believe you did this,” he says to her, his voice dripping with bitterness.

  Standing, he starts losing it. I jump as he throws my phone, punches the wall, then punches the glass cabinet, which smashes, sending glass flying everywhere. I don’t know what to do or how to react. I just watch the man who gave me life break down in anger, feeling everything as all his emotions hit him at once. I know how he feels, because I felt the same when I found out the truth. Like I was robbed of something; like I was so out of control in my own life. He throws a plate at the window when Ace, Shack, and Dreads come back in. Ace grabs me and pulls me out of the room, while, I assume, the other two try to calm my father down. I might have just literally only met Gage, but his reaction makes my chest tight, and I gulp for air like I can’t get enough into my lungs.

  He feels deeply.

  Just like I do.

  When we come to a stop in the hallway, Ace looks me over, checking if I’m okay. “You’re lucky no flying pieces of glass hit you. Why didn’t you get out of there when he started raging?”

  Even if they had, I probably wouldn’t have felt it. I feel numb. “I don’t know. I couldn’t look away from him for some reason.”

  His reaction to finding out about me is killing me, and it’s making me wonder how different my life would have been if I had had him in my life. Maybe it would have been worse. Or maybe I’d have a closely bonded relationship with him right now. It’s all screwed up. I’m close to my stepdad, sure. I call him that now, but growing up I actually thought my stepfather, Brock, was my real father. Another lie my mother had come up with. But after laying eyes on Gage . . . I know there’s something I’ve been missing out on. Coming here might have been a reckless move, but I feel like I’ve done the right thing.

  “Are you okay?” Ace asks, his arm touching mine as he leans against the wall next to me.

  “I’m fine,” I say, ducking my head and brushing off his concern. “I’d better get going, actually. It’s getting late.”

  I’ll go back to the motel and process this whole thing. Maybe tomorrow Gage and I could have lunch or something before I head back home. An actual getting-to-know-each-other conversation and meal with him would be perfect.

  “He won’t want you to go,” Ace says, more a demand than anything. “He just found out about you, and clearly he’s not taking it well. We told everyone to leave. This is more important than some fucking party.”

  Now that he’s mentioned it, the music has stopped. I can hear voices, but that’s it.

  “Have I done the right thing by coming here?” I ask myself out loud.

  “I don’t know,” Ace answers, moving in front of me, gray eyes pinned on me. “But it’s too late to go back now.”

  “No one can make me stay here if I don’t want to,” I point out.

  “Where is she?” I hear my dad yell, and Ace gives me an I told you so look.

  I wrap my arms around myself. This is what I wanted, but now I don’t know what to do. Will he want me to stay here, in the clubhouse? Is he going to ask me if I want to stay? Or just demand it? Because if he asks me, I’ll consider it. It’s crazy; I just met him and the rest of the men, and I don’t know them at all, but he is my father. If he demands it of me though, well, I’m going to walk straight out those doors. No one tells me what to do; I don’t care if I have to stand up for myself against the whole MC.

  When my dad walks up to me, glancing over me as if making sure I’m okay, I brace myself for a battle. “Where are you staying?”

  “At a motel, I—”

  “Will you stay here tonight? It’s already getting late, and . . .” He trails off and clears his throat. “Will you stay?”

  I exhale, happy he’s asking instead of being a tyrant. While the idea of staying in a house with a bunch of bikers is not my first choice, I can already tell that my father won’t let anything happen to me. Besides, my motel kind of sucks. “I can stay for one night, I guess.”

  Relief flashes across his face. “Someone will go with you to grab your stuff,” he states, eyeing Ace. “You go with her. Make sure everyone know
s who she is and knows that they are not to even look at her in the wrong fucking way. She is off-limits to everyone, including you, and if anyone upsets her, I will end them.” He turns back to me and cups my cheek with his palm. It’s the first touch he’s given me. It’s tender, with the same hand that just smashed a room to pieces. “The Cursed Ravens’ princess, the one we didn’t even know we fucking had, has returned.”

  He flashes me a sad smile and then walks off, leaving me with Ace.

  “Let’s go,” he says in a gentle tone, ushering me with his hand on the small of my back. “You ever been on a bike?”

  Is he kidding? My mother would have killed me if I went on a bike. I remember at my high school prom my date had a motorbike and she only let me go with him if I promised not to ever ride on it. I thought she was just being overprotective, but apparently there was more to it than that. She’s such a hypocrite. I’m willing to bet she rode on my father’s bike when she was younger than me. I guess she didn’t want me following in her footsteps.

  I shake my head, and the look he gives me in return is all amusement—a flash of his teeth—and something else . . . Satisfaction?

  “Get ready for the experience of your life, princess,” he says, stopping at a door. He opens it and walks inside, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow. I think this is his room. Feeling nosy, I’m about to step inside when he returns with a leather jacket in his hands, one that has an evil-looking black raven with red eyes staring back at me—the Cursed Ravens emblem—and nods toward the entrance. “You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I murmur, ignoring the stares as we exit. I follow him to his bike, where I see him admire it before turning to me and handing me his jacket.

  “You got that for me?” I ask surprised, taking it from him.

  “Yes. Put it on, or you’ll freeze your ass off,” he says, then asks, “Wait, just how much shit do you have? Can we fit it on the bike, or do we need to take a car?”

  “Just one bag,” I say, sliding the warm, worn leather on. The jacket is the property of the club, and, wearing it, it feels like I am too. I don’t know how to feel about that, but I enjoy the smell of the leather mixed with a dash of delicious men’s cologne. “I can slide it over my shoulder.”

  “Light packer, huh?” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I can appreciate that.” He checks me out in his jacket, a glint in his gaze that I don’t want to decipher right now. “That looks good on you.”

  “It feels good,” I admit, running my fingers over the leather. “Heavy, but good.”

  He nods in approval. “What’s the name of the motel?”

  I tell him, but I don’t bother to say I was only staying for one night before going home, so I didn’t really need much stuff. “What about you? Won’t you get cold?”

  He’s only in a black long-sleeve V-neck, jeans, and boots. He told me I’m going to freeze, but without his jacket, so will he.

  “I’ll be fine,” he says, handing me a black matte helmet. I put it on, feeling a little stupid in it, and a lot claustrophobic, but oh well. It fits properly, so at least I’m going to be safe. He gets on his bike and then tells me to climb on behind him. With my front pressed to his back, I hesitantly wrap my arms around his shoulders, in a very awkward hold, until he grabs them and brings them over his abs—which I note are rock-hard and extremely defined—and says, “Hold on tight, princess. Don’t be scared.”

  He lets go, and I instantly miss the warmth of his skin.

  Don’t be scared? I’m not, which is surprising. For some reason though, I trust he knows what he’s doing and will get me where we need to go safely. He won’t harm me, and not just because Gage would hurt anyone who tried.

  I feel safe with him. I have since I’ve met him.

  Is it possible to sense someone’s energy and just feel as though you know something about that person? I don’t know. I do know that my gut instinct is telling me that this man, Ace, will not let harm come to me.

  “And whatever you do, don’t put your feet on the exhaust,” he warns, gently touching my knee with his hand before placing both hands on the handles.

  I look down and make sure my feet are where they’re meant to be, holding on for dear life as he starts the engine, the loud noise making me jump a little. And when he takes off, at first I am a little scared and unsure. I close my eyes through the first few turns, but after a while, they open wide, and I can’t help but smile. With the icy wind surrounding me and warmth against my chest, a feeling of freedom takes over me.

  Being pressed up against this large, muscled, wild man . . .

  Maybe right here is where I’m meant to be.

  When we get to the motel, I take off my helmet, fix my hair, and go to grab my stuff while Ace hangs back and waits. Afterward, when I walk toward the office with my key, the attendant tells me that the room has already been paid for.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say, sliding my purse into my bag as I walk back out to him.

  “I think I can afford a hundred dollars,” he replies, lip twitching in amusement.

  “That’s beside the point,” I say, frowning. I’m sure he has way more money than me. I’m going to be a college student, and sure, I have some savings, but I try to spend as little as possible. I’ve been working at a bar until school starts, because of their flexibility and the good tips. When I decided I was going to come here, I asked my boss for a week off.

  “You’re the type who just looks for fights, aren’t you?” he asks, not sounding put out about that fact in the least. “Not going to give you what you want, princess. I’m a man, and when you’re with me, and I’m sure any of the other brothers, we’re always going to pay. Don’t give a fuck what it is, so you’d better get used to it. And if you’re surprised by it, I don’t know what kind of boys you’ve been dating.”

  “How old are you?”

  He said he’s a man, then made the boys comment, so I’m curious.

  “Twenty-eight,” he replies, scanning my eyes. “Why?”

  “Just making conversation,” I say, shrugging. So he has seven years on me. That’s not that much—we’re both still in our twenties.

  And age ain’t nothing but a number anyway.

  He takes my bag from me and wraps it around him. It looks ridiculous because the straps need to be lengthened to fit his huge body, and also because it’s pink. But he doesn’t care. And I really like that. It’s an attractive quality when someone doesn’t care what others think or will say. Ace is clearly badass, so of course he isn’t going to care. I don’t think anyone other than his fellow MC members would have the guts to say anything to him anyway.

  “You’re more than making conversation,” he mumbles. “I bet you’re one of those girls who has a calculated reason behind every question. Journalist shit.”

  I start laughing at that, especially because it makes me think of my cousin Celina, who is actually a journalist and does have a reason behind every question she asks. “What makes you say that?”

  “I can see your mind working behind those blue eyes, princess,” he says, shaking his head at me, amusement written on his face. “You’re trouble.”

  “I’m trouble?” I say, hand on my chest. “Look who is talking! Mr. Tough Guy, sitting at that party, surrounded by women, acting all tough. You looked right out of a scene in a music video.”

  “Acting?” he repeats, arching a brow. He leans forward, our lips almost touching, and whispers, “Honey, I’ve killed for less.”

  I force myself to breathe. Up close, he’s even more handsome.

  If he kissed me now, I wouldn’t stop him.

  No, I’d kiss him back harder.

  I clear my throat and roll my eyes. “You heard my dad, no one can even upset me. Which means you can try all your tactics, but we all know the truth—I’m untouchable.”

  He studies me for a second and then throws his head back and laughs. “See? Trouble.”

  Maybe, but he seems to bri
ng it out in me.

  He challenges me.

  I’ve only been here one night, and I think I’m already in trouble.

  3

  I enjoy the ride back, and I notice that Ace takes a longer route than he did on the way there. I rest my cheek on his back and close my eyes, wondering what it would be like to have a man like him as my own. I’m sure that’s what every woman wants, but not what they all get. Maybe it’s just my being naïve, young, and stupid, but it doesn’t change the fact that I like being around him. I want to be around him.

  When we arrive back at the clubhouse I don’t want to get off the bike, but I hesitantly slide off and remove the helmet. I wait until he’s ready, then hand it back to him. “I could stay on there all day.”

  He chuckles. “Your legs and ass would get a workout.”

  Another type of workout appears in my mind at his words, and I clear my throat and look away for a second, a small grin playing on my lips. Thank goodness no one can see into my head.

  Our hands touch as he takes the helmet from me and places it at the end of the bike. With my bag still on him, we walk back inside together, and although the party is over, there are still a few people around. Is it always like this? I tend to like my space, and my privacy, so I don’t know how well this is going to go. There’s a voice in the back of my head asking me what the fuck am I doing, but I only just found Gage, and this world is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I can’t help but be curious.

  Dreads approaches and smirks at the pink bag still hanging off Ace’s broad shoulder. “Suits you.”

  Ace doesn’t even reply, instead he looks to Gage, who just walked into the room. “Where we putting her, Prez?”

  “I’ll take her,” my dad says, nodding toward the hallway, and the reality of the situation hits me. I’m staying the night in a motorcycle clubhouse with people I’ve only just met. I’ve been known to be a little reckless at times, but this is really taking the cake.

  Ace hands me my bag, then says so only I can hear, “You remember where my room is?”