Ace of Hearts

by Chantal Fernando

  “Oh, you mean my poison-laced beer?” I say in a dry tone, as I take a sip from my water. “Is it bad that I could really go for a beer right now?”

  The door opens and Knuckles sticks his face in. “Pack your shit up. We’re breaking you out.”

  “Wait, what?” I ask, looking between him and Rogue. “What do you mean? The doctor really doesn’t want me to leave now? That’s not what Dad told me. He said the doctor said I can leave soon.”

  “He was probably going to do what we’re about to do,” Rogue says casually, standing up and dusting his jeans off. “Think you can run? Or should I ask Ace to steal a wheelchair?”

  My eyes almost bulge out of my head. “No. No one is going to steal anything. Let me put my shoes on. I swear, if I die because I’m meant to stay in a hospital, guess which clubhouse I’m going to choose to haunt? I can be the first woman member, and you can call me Ghost, what do you think?”

  “You talk a lot,” he points out, ignoring my rant.

  Ace sticks his head in and sees me putting on my shoes. “You ready?” he asks, giving me a once-over.

  “Yeah, but don’t steal a wheelchair. You create a diversion and I’ll run out. If anyone gets left behind . . . well, I’m not going back for them,” I state, looking to Rogue. “Because I’m not a member, so I don’t have to do any of that loyalty shit.”

  Ace steps into the room, opens his mouth, and then slams it shut. “What are you talking about? Why would I steal a wheelchair?”

  He looks to Knuckles, who bursts out into laughter.

  “You’re an asshole,” I tell him, ignoring his cackles as I move to Ace and let him pull me in for a big hug. “He told me I had to run out of here because you were breaking me out against doctor’s orders.”

  “Doctor gave in because Prez arrived. So no need for an escape plan anymore. How are you feeling?” he asks, then looks back at Knuckles. “She’s been fuckin’ poisoned, can you wait until she’s better before you pull that shit?”

  “Clearly not,” Knuckles mutters, then comes to stand next to us. “But I’m fuckin’ hungry, so let’s get out of here. Erin can sleep in her own bed.”

  Dad comes inside the room, and I let go of Ace to hold on to him.

  “Let’s go home,” he says to me.

  Home.

  I don’t know where that is anymore.

  Veronica fusses over me the second I enter the clubhouse, so I start to feel a little guilty that she’s suspect number one in my eyes, and I start to second-guess myself. She’s been so worried about me, and has been trying to help in any way she can.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asks me, looking concerned. “My poor girl, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  If she did this, she’s a very good actress. I’m talking Oscar-worthy. Her pink lipstick is a little smudged, but I don’t know if I should tell her or not, so I pretend I don’t notice it.

  “I’m fine, thank you, Veronica,” I tell her, softening toward her. It’s kind of nice to have someone mothering me, especially after everything that has happened. “I think I just need to have a nap.”

  Ace comes in as she continues to hover, with a bottle of water and some painkillers in his hand and I’m thankful because I have the worst headache. He places them next to my bed and sits down next to me. “Think you can stomach some food, or you just want to sleep?”

  “Sleep, then food,” I reply, wishing he could lie in bed and cuddle with me. As if reading my mind, he turns to Veronica and says, “Prez is looking for you. I’m keeping first watch on Erin, and then Mac will take over. So you don’t have to worry about her.”

  “Okay, just call out if you need anything.” Veronica nods, hesitating before leaving my room with the door half-open.

  I pull Ace onto the bed, or at least try to, but he doesn’t budge. “Just come and lie down with me, please.”

  Skin on skin would be ideal now, but I think that’s asking a little too much, especially considering anyone could walk in at any point to see how I’m doing.

  “Fuck,” he grits, sliding off his black boots. “Can hardly say no to you right now.”

  “Don’t say that,” I tell him, reaching out for him. “Because then I’ll ask you for what I really want.”

  He eyes the open door, gets up and closes it, then lies next to me, on top of the cover though, which is kind of shit but better than nothing. I still get to lay my head on his chest and feel his warm, big body next to me, making me feel many things.

  Safe.

  Protected.

  And very, very horny.

  Even poisoned, my body reacts to his close proximity, so much so that I start to feel a little restless and no longer tired.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me, pulling me closer, trying to keep me still. “Try to get some rest, you said you were tired.”

  I say a lot of things.

  “I was tired,” I tell him, closing my eyes and trying to get back to that place. “We should put a TV in here and then we can watch movies or something.”

  I wonder what he looks like naked. I bet he’s big and hard in all the right places.

  Okay, that’s not what you’re meant to be thinking about right now, Erin.

  “I can do that,” he tells me, kissing the top of my neck. I freeze as tingles run all over my body, and wait and hope that he gives me a little more than that this time.

  He does.

  Trailing his lips from my neck, I shiver each time his lips touch my skin, and when they stop on my lips I reciprocate, holding his face and kissing him deeply. He sucks on my bottom lip before pulling away but then gives me another kiss, like he misses my mouth.

  I’m not feeling my best, I smell like hospital, and someone tried to kill me, but this moment couldn’t have been more perfect.

  13

  I wake up the next morning alone in bed, feeling back to my old self. I have a long, lingering shower with scalding-hot water, get dressed, and wash and dry my clothes before anyone else is even awake. The clubhouse is so quiet early in the mornings, so when my phone rings as I’m hanging out in my room with another call from my mom, I’m hesitant to answer, but I’ve put this call off for long enough.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say into the line, trying to act like nothing has happened since I saw her last.

  “Erin Rose Moretti,” she growls at me, and as my full name leaves her lips, I know just how angry she is. “What happened to you? Gage said you weren’t feeling well and had to spend a night in the hospital? Why didn’t you call me? Was it the flu? You’ve been avoiding my calls!”

  Her rant continues for what feels like a few minutes before I can get a word in. “Mom, I’m fine. I’m back at the clubhouse now, so you don’t need to freak out. I just felt a little . . . sick.”

  Or poisoned, but whatever. She doesn’t need to know all the details.

  “I was worried, Erin,” she says, sounding sad, which makes me feel really guilty. “When are you coming home?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her as I sort out my clothes. “Maybe in a few nights? I’m really sorry I haven’t been calling you, Mom, but I knew that after talking to you, I’d feel guilty. I told you I’d only stay here a night or two, max, but now I want to stay a little longer. I have plenty of time before college starts, so I don’t really have to be in any rush to go home, right?”

  She’s silent for a few moments before she speaks. “Your home is here, Erin. I don’t exactly enjoy the thought of my daughter living in an MC clubhouse with a bunch of men I don’t even know. No mother would.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have gotten pregnant by a biker, Mom,” I tell her, pointing out the obvious. “You chose my father, not me.”

  When she goes quiet, I know I’ve hurt her feelings, so when I speak again it’s in a much gentler tone.

  “Can’t you trust that Dad will keep me safe?” I plead with her, making sure to keep my tone gentle, so it doesn’t spark World War III.

  “Dad? You call him Dad?” she
asks, sounding surprised and a little unhappy. “What about Brock? He’s your dad too, and the man who raised you.”

  Here we go.

  “I love Brock, Mom, but both of you lied to me. Yes, he raised me, but only because you never told my real dad I even existed! So, sorry if I’m still feeling a little bitter about that, and it’s probably the real reason I’ve been avoiding your calls. You lied to me my whole life, it’s not exactly an easy pill to swallow, and I don’t think you should try to make me feel bad for wanting to stay here and get to know my real father.”

  More silence.

  I tell her I will see her in a few days, and we both say ’bye and hang up. When I look up, I see my father standing in my doorway.

  “How much did you hear?” I ask him, feeling terrible. I don’t like arguing with my mom. She’s a great mother, but I just don’t know how I’m meant to forgive her for this. What she’s doing to me is unfair, especially bringing up the Brock thing. Yes, Brock has always been there for me and has been a great father, but that doesn’t change the fact that they both lied. They kept me away from my real father. I don’t even know how they justified that.

  He comes into my bedroom and sits down on my bed. “You thought that other guy was your dad?” he asks me. I can tell he’s angry. Fuming even. His eye is ticking, and there’s barely concealed rage in his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I admit. “There was a fake birth certificate and everything. I only learned the truth when I found the original document and I confronted them. She admitted that you were my biological father, and I wanted to find you and meet you from that very second. She can’t blame me for being curious about you. What if I never found the original birth certificate though? Would she just have never told me? I don’t know. I’m trying not to hold a grudge, but it’s hard.”

  My mom and I love each other, but we’ve never had an easy relationship. We are completely different people, and we both struggle to see each other’s views. I’m more laid-back, while she can be very uptight. She likes to follow rules, and I like to break them. When she slept with my father, that must have been the only rebellious thing she’s ever done in her life.

  He makes a sound of frustration. “I can’t believe this. I thought that you always knew, you just waited until you were ready before you came to find me. I had no idea that you were left in the dark too.”

  “I don’t think I wanted you to know,” I admit, looking down at my hands. “I don’t want you to be angry at her. I know it makes no sense, because I definitely am angry at her—”

  “But you still want to protect her,” he murmurs, nodding his head. “That’s understandable. I’m not going to do anything—she’s your mother—but fuckin’ hell, Erin, this makes me so angry. I don’t know what gave her the right to act like God and decide this for the both of us. She must have really not wanted you in my life.” He looks away, shaking his head slightly. “I know my lifestyle isn’t perfect to raise children, but it’s doable. Look at Knuckles’ girls . . . they are happy and healthy, and no one would dare mess with them. They will want for nothing. We take care of our own.”

  “I know that,” I reply, puffing out a breath. “I think we both need to accept that we can’t change the past, and maybe we need to let it go and look forward. Easier said than done, I know.”

  Considering I just threw it in my mother’s face, again. I know I’m going to have to forgive her, but it’s so hard. I just feel so betrayed, lied to, and confused.

  She did what she thought was best, but was that what was best for me or for her? I think she was selfish in her actions.

  “Maybe she thought you would try to take me away, or maybe she didn’t want to share me. I don’t know. She obviously wanted a certain life for me, the white picket fence and all that, which I can’t blame her for, but what can I blame her for is the fact she lied,” I tell him. “And she kept lying. She could have waited and told me the truth when I was older, at least told me that Brock was my stepfather, not my real one, but she didn’t. She pretended like we were one happy family, the perfect family, and that nothing needed to be said. I know it’s going to be hard to forgive her, but holding on to anger isn’t healthy either.”

  And she was wrong.

  I’ve always been the black sheep of the family. The louder one, the difficult one, the one with a bit of a wild streak my mother could never tame. I’ve never gone with the flow; I usually do my own thing, and she never liked that. My sister, Eden, is the perfect daughter. I’ve never been that.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he concedes, forcing a smile and visibly attempting to let go of his anger. “You’re here now, which is all that matters. I might not have been there to raise you, but if I had known, I need you to know that I would have been.”

  I smile and try to lighten the mood. “My first riding lesson was meant to happen. Is the whole poisoning thing going to postpone that?”

  “I’m afraid so,” he replies with a short laugh. “I want to check your bike to make sure it’s okay first.”

  My eyes flare. “You think someone would try to mess with it?”

  “I think I have no idea what to think,” he admits, standing. “But from now on I need to be careful. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you. I understand if you want to go home after what happened. I’m so angry I can’t even explain it. Nothing like this has ever happened, and for it to happen to my own daughter, the one I only just found. My blood is boiling. I don’t even want you to see me like this because I don’t know what I’m going to do when I find out who did this. I never want you to see that side of me.”

  I make my final decision right here and now. “I’m not going home right now, Dad. I’m going to help you find this person.”

  I don’t want someone like this around my dad, around Ace. What if they target someone else next? I might not be some badass chick. I can’t fight; I can’t ride; hell, I can’t even use a gun. I’m barely legal, and I’d never even met any bikers until I got here.

  But you know what?

  I never back down.

  And when I’m backed into a wall?

  That’s when my Raven blood will show.

  14

  He opens his door after two knocks, pulls me in by my hips, and closes the door behind him, making me squeal a little.

  “Good morning, princess,” he says, giving me a quick kiss.

  He’s shirtless.

  And only wearing a pair of black silk boxer shorts.

  This is the first time I’ve seen his bare chest, and I can’t seem to look away from it. He’s perfectly muscled, not too much, not too little, with a six-pack and sculpted biceps. He is flawless. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like this in real life.

  “Spend much time in the gym?” I ask him, clearing my throat.

  “We have a gym here,” he tells me, shrugging. “I like to stay fit. My goal is to never become one of those bikers with a beer belly.”

  “Well, you definitely don’t have one of those,” I rasp.

  “Are you ever going to look me in the eye again?” he asks, laughing to himself.

  “No.”

  “Erin—”

  “You have no tattoos,” I point out.

  “Is that a problem?” he asks, absently scratching one of his pecs.

  “No, it’s just interesting.”

  “Are you stereotyping me?” he asks, stepping closer to me.

  “Yes,” I reply, resting my hands on his chest and feeling his bare skin. “I guess I am.”

  “Could never decide what I wanted,” he explains, shrugging. “I get bored easily, so I’d probably change my mind on whatever I chose, anyway. Plus, everyone has one these days. I like to be a little different.”

  “Why am I not surprised that you get bored easily?” I ask, running my nails gently down his abs.

  “Because you’re a smart girl,” he replies with a cheeky grin.

  He’s being playful, and I’m not used to it.

  There’s someth
ing different about him. He’s kind of chirpy, like there’s a lightness about him, as if a weight has been lifted. “I thought you’d still be in bed.”

  “No, I was up early,” I tell him, glancing around his room. This is the first time I’ve been inside of it, and now that I’ve gotten my fill of his body, I take in everything from his king-size bed covered in white sheets to the motorcycle memorabilia he has on a wooden shelf in the corner of the room. His room is really tidy. Too tidy.

  Does he clean it, or does someone else?

  There are no photos anywhere, but there’s a drawing of the Cursed Ravens emblem hanging above his bed.

  “I guess you’re feeling better then?” he asks me, leading me to his bed, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap. “Luckily they made you throw up at the hospital. That’s probably what saved you.”

  Wait, what?

  “They made me throw up? Why don’t I remember that?” I ask, frowning.

  “You were kind of out of it.”

  “So, you saw me puke?” I ask, sounding horrified. “Great, just great. That’s exactly what I need right now.”

  Looks like we’re going to get pretty comfortable with each other in a short period of time.

  “We thought you were going to die, Erin. Trust me, a bit of vomit wasn’t going to faze me,” he says, hands starting to massage my shoulders. “You’re tense.”

  “I can give you multiple reasons to explain the tension,” I murmur, my eyes closing of their own accord. “That feels really good.”

  He’s good with his hands.

  Not like I ever thought he wouldn’t be.

  There are pros and cons with a man who has a lot of experience, and this is one of the pros: You can almost guarantee they will be good in bed. My cousin Celina told me as much. She’s older and has more experience than me. She also said they’re the hardest to keep, but I’m going to choose to ignore that little tidbit.

  What is it about a bad boy? A biker. A wild man. A powerful man.