Ace (Syns of Desert Angels MC Book 1)

by L. M. Reign

  Looming over him, she slowly begins to leave several small cuts across his stomach. His painful moans fill the room, falling on deaf ears as she turns him into her personal canvas.

  “No more. Please,” he begs, pulling against the restraints; his wrist practically raw from his fight.

  “Pussy,” Brass scoffs. Rig elbows him, keeping his eyes on the table.

  Mila plays a few more rounds with different instruments on his body, ignoring each cry and plea for help before pushing him over the brink; forcing his body to shut down and pass out.

  Leaning over him, she slaps his face a little, confirming he’s out cold. Holding her hand out behind her, Ness slides her a piece of cotton.

  She waves it under his nose, jolting him awake. His heaving breaths give him the second he needs to realize he’s not safe before erupting into screams.

  “We can do this all night,” she warns him. Her tone alluding all the bad things she will do.

  His body starts to shake uncontrollably as Mila trails a much smoother knife across his face. Careful not to clip him, she starts asking questions. Her face remaining eerily calm as he stutters out answers.

  She tsked at him disapprovingly, seemingly unsatisfied with his response. Grabbing the bushy hair of his eyebrows, she slices it clean off in fluid motion without hesitation; showing him no mercy at the end of the blade. His guttural scream made my balls shrivel while the blood flowed freely around his face.

  “Holy shit,” Brass watches her in shock.

  “That’s why we didn’t use her first,” Dash answers Rook’s question.

  Mila steps back and surveys her work. “Watch your tongue or have it cut from your head,” she tells him. “Ever heard the phrase, “Come hell or high water”?”

  He nods his head in affirmation. The cuffs clink in sweet harmony with his shaking, and she circles him slowly, twiddling the knife between her fingers.

  “Good. Because I am the hell and the high water.”

  Crouching down like before, she levels herself with his ear. “I will make sure you die a very, very slow death,” she spoke evenly. “Just how painful it will be is up to you.”

  Her words seem to have the intended effect as he launched into a tirade. None of which I could understand. Mila stood there, nodding her head as he spoke.

  “Wrong,” she sliced off his ear.

  His wails overpowered his ability to respond and Mila parted his bottom lip from his face. He started forcing himself to talk through the pain; the strain evident on his face.

  Whatever he said next, made Mila stop. I couldn’t see her face, but I saw Ness’.

  Her eyes were wide with fear. She looked towards us as if she could see us, slowly shaking her head.

  “Son of a bitch,” Milo mutters. He and Dash started popping off in that fucking language, practically screaming at each other.

  “Hey!” I yell, interrupting them. “What the fuck did he say?”

  “They were going to make it look like we robbed them,” Milo says. “He was going to ‘lose’ some inventory that would conveniently end up next to our bodies. That fucking explains the clothes.”

  We look like thieves.

  Milo moves towards the intercom, pushing the button before speaking in the damn language again. He pushes another button, removing the layered film that kept us hidden on this side.

  Mila nods, acknowledging him. Speaking slowly, she draws my attention back to her. Her back is straight, waiting for his response.

  “We know,” he starts in English, “you are Syndicate.”

  “How?”

  “Traitors in,” he heaved another breath, “your group.”

  The hair on my neck stands at the mention of Syn. They know Syn is working with us. Mila freezes her ministrations, casting a glance at Milo and Dash.

  “How do you know this information?”

  She towers over him, flipping the knife carelessly. He responds in rapid fire Italian. The tension in the room becomes palpable, almost suffocating.

  Whatever he said, it wasn’t what they wanted to hear. Without warning, she plunges the knife into his groin, forcing a groan from those of us that were standing. I cup my balls and squeeze out a tight breath.

  Fuck.

  “What was her name?” Her question lingered in the air as she kept her grip on the knife. When he didn’t respond, she slowly started to twist it. “What. Was. Her. Name?”

  Blood started dripping from the table, pooling at her feet. She leaned over, resting with her elbows on his torso.

  “A-Asher,” he gasped.

  Chapter 20

  Mila

  Dangling my feet over the ledge, I stare at the rising sun that’s began peeking over the buildings. I graze my hand with the tip of the blade I was still holding. The very one I was using hours ago before ending someone’s life. It’s since been cleaned, looking sleek with no remnants of the blood that coated it before.

  Turning it over, I see the Celtic engravings on the handle, remembering Mama.

  “Blood is spilled by those holding the keys to the throne,” Mama once told me while she was gearing up for her next leave. I sat on her bed sulking while she packed because I wanted to go.

  I wanted to see the action firsthand since I was doing well with my training. Her favorite weapons always went last; her knives that she had specially commissioned with Celtic engravings.

  I never understood why she got the knives engraved since it could be linked back to us if she ever left them behind, but I now understood. She got them engraved so she didn’t leave them behind.

  These weren’t the careless weapons you’d use and discard. These were the ones that held the stories of all the lives that have been taken. And she made damn sure all of them stayed with her.

  My phone started ringing and I contemplated not answering it until I saw the number flashing across the screen.

  “Yes?” I spoke, sliding the knife in my pocket.

  “Confirmed. Details will be delivered soon,” dad’s harsh voice crackles through the tiny box.

  I sent him a briefing after ordering my brother and the members of the DAMC to dispose of the body and the truck they carelessly drove here. But not before yelling at my brother and Dash for, not only, exposing us to a security risk by bringing them here, but the ramifications we could face for having actual evidence linking us to a crime in our backyard. Not that it matters much now that the plan has been fast tracked.

  I explained to my father the events leading up to tonight. The first run where Asher was in the truck, the guys almost getting jumped, Asher saying it was me who handed her over the Italians, and now the guys getting ambushed. Since the Italians know who we are, we need to expedite the plan if we still want to catch him.

  “Yes, sir. Understood.”

  Dad doesn’t bother with a parting as he ends the call, and I’m left alone with my thoughts all over again. They keep circling back to Cole, his accusation, and the baby. The fear I felt tonight when I found out they were ambushed comes back in full force.

  Panic threatens to blur my vision, overtaking my body like I’m on autopilot. I attempt to steady my heart, timing my breaths to the beat.

  When that doesn’t work, I rip off my jacket and lean forward, sucking in small gulps of air like I’m drowning.

  I could’ve lost them.

  They could’ve died.

  He could’ve died.

  The overwhelming weight of all my emotions bubble to the surface. The realization crumbles around me, breaching the dam.

  I love him.

  I love him.

  Strong arms engulf me, pulling me against a broad chest. I feel gravel crunch under my legs and focus on the muscular thighs boxing me in.

  “Hey,” he sounds calm, wrapping his arms around me and rocking back and forth. I haven’t had a panic attack this bad since mom died, and I absolutely hate how helpless I feel.

  “Breathe with me,” he whispers, covering my hand with his and placing it on
my chest. I feel the compressions of his stomach against my back and force myself to mimic them.

  “There you go,” he says soothingly.

  Collapsing against him, I can’t control the shudder that runs through my body or the onslaught of fresh tears. I grab the fabric of his pants, clinging to him like a lifeline; something to tether me back to reality.

  “Oh my God,” I whimper, wanting to be free of this.

  “Breathe, baby,” he soothes me. “Breathe.”

  “I... I c-can’t do this,” I shake my head, struggling to draw a breath.

  “Listen to me,” he pulls away and drapes his jacket over me. “Just follow my voice. I’m here. We’re here.”

  I lean my head against him and close my eyes, focusing on opening my lungs to the air.

  “I know I should’ve forfeited the fight that night,” he presses a kiss against my temple. “But I’m not sorry I didn’t because we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t know about you... and the baby. I get it. I did that to you and I’m sorry.

  And lemme tell you somethin’ else, fuck that, Mila. Does it fuckin’ hurt? Goddamnit, yes. It fuckin’ hurts. It rips me to my fuckin’ core. Right here,” he taps my chest. “But... we’re here, and for some reason, I can’t stop lovin’ you. You hear me?” He swipes away the tears that have started to fall. I don’t dare open my eyes, too afraid to see what I’ve been running from.

  “I can’t stop. You’re mine, baby. All this fucked up shit between us - that’s ours. And I fuckin’ want it. I want you. You hear me? I’ll say it a million times if you need me to. I love you. I fuckin’ love you, Mila Rogers, and I never should’ve let you go. You’re always on my damn mind. You’re in every single thing I do, and I barely got through the last few days without you.

  They aren’t the same. My soul isn’t the same. I need this shit to end here, baby. No more fightin’. No more secrets. I need you. God, I... fuckin’ love you.” The crack in his voice broke me.

  His words gave me my breath back, along with a need to see him. Really see him. Sitting up, I turn and take in the face of this beautiful man.

  He was still here, right in front of me, and all my carefully constructed walls; the armor I built to save me against my guilt, against him... cracked open and everything came to light. Every moment between us. Every breath I’d taken away from him. All those days, hours and minutes.

  It was in those green eyes that I found forgiveness where I withheld. I found love where I rejected. And... I couldn’t imagine a world where Cole Davenport didn’t exist. This man... he’s it for me. I could tell him everything, come clean once and for all, but he just pulled me into his arms, and it felt like coming home.

  “I’m goin’ to kiss you now,” he said, sliding his palm along my cheek, angling my face up. “You can slap me afterwards. I know I deserve it, but I need to taste you.”

  “Wait,” I stopped him, leaning out of his embrace to gather that last bit of courage to do this. His face fell with rejection, forcing me to say this with less tact than I planned.

  “I love you,” I blurted, clapping a hand over my mouth.

  A possessive streak of lightning passes across his eyes, and he jerks me to him, sliding a hand around my neck.

  “Say it again,” he says, urging me forward.

  I’m trembling with a whole new kind of fear. This is it. Do or die.

  “Cole…,” I say.

  His grip tightens on my neck. “Say. It. Again.” His fiery green eyes look down at me, silently begging me to say it. “I need to hear you say it.”

  He leans his forehead to mine, locking our eyes as he cups my face. A lone tear slips out.

  “Say it, baby,” he demands tenderly, brushing the tear from my cheek. “Don’t hide those beautiful eyes with tears.”

  I wipe at my face, making him grin, then drew another breath. Smacking him on the arm when he laughs at my preparation.

  Tilting my head for his mouth, I try to stop trembling. It’s not every day that fate grants you a second chance with the one you love.

  “I love you.”

  He presses his lips to mine - firm and tender, giving me a minute to relish the feel before retreating.

  “Say it again. With my name.”

  “I love you... Cole Davenport.”

  He closes his eyes as if the words both hurt and release him from the prison he’s been trapped in. There was one more thing I had to do before we could both be free.

  Untangling myself, I stand and grab his hand. “I have something to show you.”

  _____________________

  Parking the car against the curb, I kill the engine, staying silent. Cole stares at me in confusion, wondering why we’re here.

  “Come on,” I open the door, making my way up the well-worn path. He follows closely, unable to give voice to his thoughts.

  Sitting down on the bench, I wait for him, watching him stare at mama’s headstone before sitting next to me.

  “Why are we here?” His voice was quiet, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “You needed to see this,” I point to the engraving on the bench.

  Leaning over, he traces every word when he reads it. I look away when he starts to tear up, unable to stomach watching him experience the same endless spiral of pain that brings me to my knees.

  “And father,” he says, clearing his throat.

  “What?” I look back at him confusion.

  “… giving your mother a glimpse of a beautiful future,” he reads aloud. “And father. He showed me a beautiful future, too, Mi. I want that.”

  “Me too,” I cover my mouth, stifling the sob that wracks my body.

  This man. His goodness, his forgiveness makes up for everything I lack. I’m not worthy of him or his love, but there’s no escaping it this time. He’s pulled me from the wreckage of my guilt, breathing life back into me. Making me feel like I finally am good enough.

  Cole pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my neck. I could feel the wetness from his tears and began to cry harder. This was it. All our demons slowly being vanquished.

  “You’re the one,” he kisses my ear. “The one that got away once. You’re not gettin’ away again. You better mean this, Mila.”

  Sliding his hand down my back, he lifts me and pulls me onto his lap to capture my mouth in a kiss that ignites the fire roaring through me. A kiss that blazes under the surface of my skin, in my blood, and straight to the warm spot between my legs that suddenly demands his attention. It’s a welcome burn.

  “Look at me.”

  I do. Cupping his face, I marvel at his pristine green eyes. He’s so fucking beautiful.

  “This feels right,” he squeezes me. “No matter what I have to do, I’ll protect it.”

  “You know,” I start to admit. “You didn’t have to fight to get me in the same room with you.”

  He stares at me dubiously, making me laugh.

  “Okay. Maybe at first, yes. But now, I’ll go willingly. That’s how weak I am. You’re my weakness, Cole.”

  “Oh, baby,” he clutches me to him, whispering, “You’re the strongest damn woman I know. And you’re mine.”

  I feel my muscles go rigid at his statement, wondering if he’ll feel the same way once he knows about our plan. Or what happens after.

  He tilts my chin upwards, a serious question on his lips. I pull away from his embrace.

  “Hey, hey…” he pulls me back. “Don’t pull away from me. Not after this. What’s goin’ on?”

  “We’re extracting.”

  “So soon?”

  I nod and explain to him the basics of our plan, glossing over details about who we’re after, and how we plan to flush out the puppeteer in the club.

  He listens intently, never wavering or interrupting until I’ve divulged almost everything.

  “Okay,” he says when I finish. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing,” I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “We’ve got it covered.”

&n
bsp; “Alright. We’ve got,” he glances at his phone. “Less than ten hours. We better get goin’.”

  “What?” I yelp when he stands, taking me with him. “What are you doing?” I cling to his shoulders tightly.

  “We’ve got less than ten hours until shit blows up, baby. I’m goin’ to enjoy at least four of ‘em between your legs.”

  “Don’t talk like that in front of my mother.”

  “Sorry, Rose,” he says sheepishly.

  _____________________

  Cole

  I wake up and fling my arm to the side, feeling disappointed at the empty spot. Sitting up on my elbows, I scan the spare room in confusion, remembering that we slept here.

  Mila’s pacing back and forth, staring at her phone. My shirt clinging to her slender frame. Slightly falling off her shoulder and hitching up on one side. Her bare ass cheeks jiggle with each step she takes, redirecting blood from my brain to my cock.

  She’s murmuring to herself, focusing hard before jabbing a finger at the screen. Silently padding over to the window, she leans against the wall. Not bothering with underwear, I quietly slide out of bed, creeping up behind her.

  “I know you’re awake,” she whispers softly, like she doesn’t want to ruin this cocoon we’ve built.

  “How?”

  “There’s a mirror right there,” she smirks, drawing my attention to a small piece of reflective glass across the room.

  Connecting with her mischievous gaze, she roams her heated eyes over me as if she heard my dirty thoughts earlier. I ignore the swelling of my cock that’s suddenly draining all my lifeblood. My skin is electrified, and I haven’t even touched her yet.

  Pushing off the wall, she stalks towards me, swaying her hips slowly. I can’t stand the distance any longer and reach for her, picking her up. I spin to face the dresser, setting her on top. Nestling comfortably between her legs, I’m reminded of how we were in my kitchen not too long ago.