Adversary (The Aces Book 2)

by A. J. Macey

  “That can’t be your saving grace all the time, Abby Talor!” I shouted as she started driving away. Ugh, bitch. My bitch, but still, I grumbled. Rider was looking at me like I had just signed my life away with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “What?” I huffed. “That’s my best bitch, and I’ll say whatever I want to her. She loves me too much to kick me to the curb.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone challenge Abby before, she’s too scary,” he admitted, looking over to the red dusty truck that had just left the compound. I laughed.

  “I could see that, but she doesn’t scare me,” I added with a smile. Tilting my head, I started walking again. “Come on, I still have a bit to check out.” With that, we spent the next hour meandering around the compound without running into anyone else I knew.

  Stone

  “Ready, Boss?” I questioned quietly as we made our way across the compound to the westernmost outer building. He nodded, his shoulders pulling back as his lips thinned. Our walk was silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts. We were heading for the two rivals who had been left behind during the Alloy Kings attack, and while my reputation as the club’s enforcer was well known, Brooks’ reputation was a bit different.

  Instead of being the stereotypical president who ruled in anger and had members who feared him and made a target of himself with other criminals, he was laid back to the point that some would even call him ‘soft.’ That ‘softness’ though, was a lie, a front for his enemies to underestimate him and to see him as unworthy of their time and focus. When he first started as President, I had my reservations about his plan while some of the older members challenged him for being unfit despite his legacy going back generations. Every generation before him had been the stereotypical president—hard, unforgiving, scary bastard—and each generation had in one way or another ended up killed by another criminal.

  Brooks took over with a weird-as-fuck plan that I hadn’t expected to work in a million years, but in almost a decade no other gangs or rivals had moved in on our turf aside from the Alloy Kings’ recent attempt. Now, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be the president he had to be. He never hesitated to step up to the plate and discipline a member accordingly or protect his own. Those members that had challenged him in the beginning? They were reduced to prospects and eventually banned. When they wouldn’t abide by their punishment, he didn’t hesitate to bury them out back when they came after him, despite having grown up with each and every one of them. Brooks was absolutely the president of a motorcycle club even though most think otherwise.

  Oh, I didn’t think for one second he wasn’t that kind-hearted man when it came to a certain fiery thief, but as much as I hated to admit it, there was something about Kiera that just brought that out in us. Ugh. I rolled my eyes at myself and pushed the thought away. Focus, Alloy Kings. With that, I centered my attention on the small building in front of us. The exterior door was monitored by two Aces at all times, while the actual enclosure had another two guards.

  The two patch holders outside the small building nodded and unlocked the door for us when we approached. We didn’t stop to talk, just walked straight inside. The other members tasked with watching our Alloy Kings prisoners were seated on chairs next to two thick metal doors that held the rivals secured. Nodding once to the member watching the left door, Brooks waited for him to unlock the door. I followed Boss into the small cell where the Alloy King, who still hadn’t told us his name, was sitting on the cot with his head against the brick wall.

  “Well, if it isn’t the president and his dog,” he sneered gruffly. I glared down at him, my arms crossed snugly over my chest and my hands clenched tightly into fists at his blatant disrespect.

  “If it isn’t one of our lowly prisoners,” Brooks shot back. “You want to talk now?” The Alloy King scoffed and rolled his eyes, his gaze drifting away from us to look toward the far wall.

  “Why the fuck would I tell you bastards anything?” he challenged after he took a steeling breath, continuing the brave front despite it being two versus one. Brooks towered over him, glaring down at the thin and scrawny rival.

  “Because your entire survival is in these bastards’ hands,” Boss ground out, sneering the insult back at him. “What are the Alloy Kings up to and why are they working with Frankie ‘Smokes’?” he demanded. The rival stayed silent, sitting solemnly on his cot with his focus glued to the ratty sheets that covered the mattress. “All right then, stay in here for a while longer. We’ll be back, maybe.” Brooks shrugged his shoulder disinterestedly and started toward the door.

  “Wait!” the prisoner hollered out when I was about to step through the door. “You can’t just leave me in here!” he shouted, his eyes wide in panic. It had only been a week, and he was already starting to feel the effects of isolation.

  Weak bitch, I sneered, that’s what happens when you shoot one of ours.

  “I can,” Brooks barked out sharply, his normally smooth voice harsh and cruel. “And you best believe I’ll fucking let you rot in here if I don’t let my Ace you shot have you first.” With a cold smile and dead eyes, Brooks turned from the door, allowing me to exit.

  “Wait!” the man tried once more, scrambling toward the door in a poor excuse of an attempt at an escape; I slammed it satisfactorily in his face. His screaming was muffled on the other side of the metal door but not completely drowned out. Brooks rolled his shoulders once more and signaled for the other door to be opened. This was the Alloy King who had been wrestling with Garrett before I shot him. His torso had been cleaned, tended, and wrapped, but other than the basic first aid, he hadn’t been given much else besides some water and food.

  “Maybe you’ll be a bit more helpful,” Brooks sneered, the shouting of the other Alloy King radiating through the second room. The man sat back against the wall like the other rival, but he didn’t glance away. His bright blue eyes held Brooks’ gaze with no hint of fear. “What are the Alloy Kings up to?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his tone seemingly sincere, but I saw the little twitch of his lip that he smothered into a bland mask.

  “Why are they working with Frankie ‘Smokes’?” I questioned gruffly, knowing Brooks wouldn’t have an issue with me questioning our prisoner.

  “Who?” The rival’s single word question was littered with fake confusion.

  I glared down at him, taking a step closer as I dropped my arms ready to beat the answer out of him. I don’t have the damn time for this back and forth shit.

  “Oh,” he immediately squeaked, shifting away from me on his ratted cot, his fear making his lips a little looser. “The mob boss? That Frankie ‘Smokes’?”

  “Yes,” Brooks barked. “That Frankie ‘Smokes.’ What does Frankie want?”

  “I don’t know,” the man responded, making me take another threatening step forward. “No, seriously!” he half shouted in fear. “I just know we were moving our merch and there was some behind closed door talks with the officers. I don’t know any more than that. They wouldn’t tell us anything!”

  “What about Jace Corden?” Brooks continued, nodding toward me to signal I was good to back off. Taking a step back, I retreated to my usual position next to Brooks, my arms crossed over my chest once again. “What does he get from the Alloy Kings?”

  “That creepy fucker? Fuck if I know, all he does is prance around in his expensive suits and give orders to the officers. He’s the middleman from what I understand.”

  Brooks was silent as he stared at the Alloy King, deciding whether he was telling the truth. Not surprising that we didn’t get much, I thought. Looks like he was just patched in a couple months ago. No one would tell such a baby member anything important.

  Finally, after a tense moment of silence as Brooks continued to glare down at the man, he stepped back and strode out of the room. I followed quietly, surprised that the Alloy King didn’t shout out as we left him and relocked the door. Brooks nodded to the patch holders on duty before making his way out into the des
ert heat. We didn’t speak as we walked far enough away from the members watching the front door for them to not hear us.

  “That second one isn’t much use, but he’s got some loose lips,” Brooks said quietly, keeping our conversation low in case anyone was around. “We’ll see if he remembers anything else later. If the first one continues the way he is, he should be singing like a canary here soon.”

  I nodded my agreement. “What’s the plan then?”

  Brooks’ jaw ticked as he ground his teeth in thought. “Wait them out. Other than that? Hope like hell Kiera and Chase found out more than we did.”

  Chapter 4

  May 15th

  Wednesday Early Morning

  Kiera

  A ding sounded on my laptop, catching my attention. Leaning over to brace my hand on the top of my desk, I checked the notification. A new job. I perked up at the sight. The details were vague—which was unsurprising—only outlining the location, the object, and the deadline. The only other information listed was that my required deposit of half my payment would be transferred by the end of the hour unless I declined the job. The client wanted an old document currently located at the Nevada Museum of Art from some previous time period that I knew nothing about. Based on the client information, I would be dealing with one of the more well-known middlemen who handled contact between criminals—like me—and the buyers or collectors. It was a fairly easy lift, I thought, tallying the things I would need to do, really just need to get a lay for the museum and its security.

  With that in mind, I sent an affirmative and started researching.

  May 16th

  Thursday Morning

  Kiera

  My muscles were starting to cramp, but I couldn't move for another little while until the guards rotated or I would give myself away. How do I get myself into this shit? I sighed silently and glanced around from my impromptu hidey hole. The crevice between the metal catwalk and the guards below was small, my body folded together with my head brushing against my knees. Checking my watch, I had about thirty seconds until they would head toward the guard post, allowing me to get back onto the catwalk and up to the roof. I rolled my shoulders and propped onto my fingertips in preparation to escape this museum.

  The guards shifted, too engrossed in their own conversation to look up or pay attention to their surroundings. I couldn't blame them though; they were on the tail end of a twelve-hour shift and about to head home. I, on the other hand, somehow fucked up the guard rotations when I entered the building. I knew my time management skills were shit, but I was still about ninety-nine percent sure they had gone through their rotation of the museum gallery floor early. Which meant they were back at their posts while I was still attempting to creep around.

  Bursting out of the roof vent, I sprawled out onto the gravelly roof, the sharp rocks digging into my back painfully. The air cooled my sweaty face as I hauled my ass up off the roof and down the side of the building before the guards could exit. When I was clear of the building, I ran straight for my bike, unwilling to go toe-to-toe with pushing my luck right now. I was on the road to my men's compound without a backward glance.

  Rider was working the front gate when I approached. With a quick wave and a respectful nod, he let me pass. In the aftermath of the Alloy Kings' attack last week, everyone had been wary of new faces coming into the compound. It was a bit of a rough adjustment, but the Aces were getting used to the fact that three out of their four officers were consistently spending time away from the acreage to be with me at the house. I knew the faces and names for almost all of the members, but I'd only really 'met' a couple including Rider, my old friends Abby and Nate, as well as Kevin and his Old Lady Maxine after having saved her from being sold off like cattle at a sex auction. I ground my teeth at the thought of the auction, the inevitable memory of my father quickly following.

  On the winding roads through the compound, my mind wouldn't let me push away the thoughts of Frankie 'Smokes.' Flashes of the cold perfection of my father's face and his lavish, immaculate estate full of horrors had me pushing my bike faster. I continued dangerously fast through the twisting streets until I finally stopped at the back warehouse. Garrett and Stone’s bikes were parked in a line outside the building. My retired assassin turned partner-in-crime's Audi nearby. Chase's black car shone, the windows tinted until they were nearly opaque. I didn't move right away after turning my bike off, the rage and fury that swirled painfully within my chest holding me hostage.

  "Kitten?" Garrett's rough baritone called softly from a few feet away. A hand brushed against my back, his sharp green eyes and handsomely scruffy face filling my vision despite the flame of fury that I was drowning in. "Kiera?" he whispered, a hand shifting my windswept hair out of my face. The feeling of his callused fingers brushing softly against my cheek finally kick-started my control, allowing me to lock away the fury.

  Not the time for it, I reminded myself sharply.

  "Sorry," I responded full of fake cheer. "Just a little tired and spaced off." His eyes narrowed, the possessive asshole knew me well enough to tell how much of a bullshit excuse that was. Before he could call me out on my fucking awful lie though, Chase's manically happy shouts cut him off.

  "Kittycat!" Chase half-skipped, half-ran over to me, his faux-suede jacket soft against my neck and shoulders as he hugged me tightly. "How are you?"

  I chuckled, hugging him back. "Ready for a drink." I glanced around the group. "What are you guys up to?"

  Stone stood off to the side, in his usual stance of crossing his arms over his bulky muscles, very much appearing the part of Aces' scary and suspicious enforcer. His dark skin was rich under the changing colors of the early morning sunrise. Those ebony eyes of his darted around, looking anywhere other than my face.

  One of these days, I'll get him to be comfortable around me.

  Hopefully. I mean, he did agree to this weird relationship shit.

  Although, I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

  "We were just looking through some parts in the warehouse," Garrett responded. "Chase was curious." I smiled reflexively. My assassin loved to figure out how things worked, but knowing him, he asked to see it so he could study how Garrett and Stone worked. People were always more interesting to him than objects. "Stone and I have some shit we need to do around the compound though."

  "I have a meeting with Val," Chase added. "See if I can find out why the Alloy Kings have practically gone underground and radio silent."

  I nodded in agreement. It had been almost a week since we stole their shipment and almost a week and a half since they attacked the compound, and we hadn't seen or heard a peep out of them since. It was making me, as well as the other officers, nervous. I could see it in their tight facial expressions and tense, twitchy muscles.

  "All right, I'm going to stop by the bar real quick and have a glass before heading to the house," I informed them. With a quick kiss from both Chase and Garrett, the four of us broke off toward our respective tasks. My hair whipped around me as I rode, much more leisurely this time around, to the building situated in the middle of the compound.

  My eyes were slow to adjust to the dim light within the room. The sun that had mostly risen in the horizon during my ride over here practically blinded me before I walked into the room with dark grey floors, black walls and ceilings, and what seemed like only three working light bulbs. Once again, Cheryl wasn't behind the lacquered surface, meaning I was alone within the long rectangular space. Making myself at home, I disregarded the traditional societal standard and poured myself a lowball of whiskey before moving back to the stool side of the bar. A soft moan escaped me as I sipped the liquor, the pleasant burn comforting after spending a good portion of the morning uncomfortably pretzel-ed. My bruised and battered body was on the up-and-up with healing, but the soreness came back to taunt me every so often.

  This was definitely one of those times.

  "Mm," a familiar smooth hum sounded from behind me, "I could listen to t
hat noise for the rest of my days and die a happy man, Baby."

  I smirked before spinning in my stool, the top squeaking as it turned. Brooks stood before me in all his ruggedly handsome sexual glory. His jeans pulled taut over his sculpted leg muscles as his grey t-shirt molded to the planes of his tattooed chest and golden tan biceps. The worn leather of his cut was scuffed, but well taken care of and hugged his defined torso and back in a way that made my mouth water.

  "Hey, prick," I greeted, a laugh bubbling out of me at the insulting endearment. What can I say? I'm a big softie at heart.

  He rolled his eyes, used to my eccentricities. Sitting on the stool to my left, his denim-covered knees brushed my thighs, sending tingles straight to my greedy pussy which had already started to go wet at the president's deliciously sculpted body.

  "What do you think?" He tilted his chin toward a pool table, the newest addition to the Aces' bar that had been delivered and assembled first thing this morning. I looked over the black wood base and the red felt top, an idea sparking in my mind and making me smile internally.

  "Let's play a game," I suggested as I stood, making sure to pour us both a glass of alcohol before moving over to the table. I racked the balls and pulled out a cue for myself. Brooks stared at me with a watchful eye but didn't say anything as I got everything ready. "You want to break?" I asked, keeping my face flat despite having the urge to grin.

  "You're the one who wanted to play." He shifted out of the way with a wave of his hand to the place he had been leaning against. I smiled, all while chuckling silently as I moved to where I needed to line up, conveniently right in front of Brooks. Bending over, I nearly pressed my chest against the red felt, making sure to stick out my ass. The thunk of the cue hitting the ball was sharp in the silence of the bar, and ricocheting colors flared out on the pool table as I stood up. Two of the striped balls sank into pockets at various intervals.