King respected that kind of sacrifice, no matter who the hell had made it, and so when Ace had called and explained what had gone down, King and Jack had hauled ass up the Rockies to help. There had been no hesitation to do so, and there was no hesitation now that it was time to hide Ace. The man had played fair and he’d done his part – now King and his people had to do theirs. Even if King, Jack, Tex, Honey, and all the other Men would have cheerfully put a bullet between Ace Cuddy’s damn deadpool eyes, for all the shit that he’d done in his life.
King looked at Spider now, saw the tension and anger in the man’s body, and he sighed internally. Then there was this part of the whole fucking mess, as if this disaster area needed any more problems or bullshit. He glanced over his shoulder at Ace, who was hovering around the front door like he was considering bolting. And hell, King was sure that if he wasn’t a man with a target on his back, he’d be out of there without a backwards look.
Maybe not, though. King recalled how Ace had told him on the phone that he was thinking about this time with Spider – forced though it was – as an opportunity to talk to his ex-boyfriend. Make things right. Maybe even open the door to a second chance.
But as he looked at Spider’s simmering rage, and Ace’s expression of sheepish defiance, King had serious doubts that these two could even breathe the same air, let alone make any moves towards reconciliation. He sighed aloud this time, trying to get up the energy to cross a romantic minefield on top of everything else that he had to worry about.
At his sigh, every eye in the room turned to him, and King pulled himself up to his full and scarily-impressive height. He turned on his trademark glower with barely an effort, and watched in satisfaction as Ace and Spider looked appropriately terrified and alert. Tex and Honey had seen The Glower for years, of course, and so their reactions more closely resembled ‘amusement’ than ‘freaked-out’.
“So.” King’s voice rumbled out of his broad chest. “Here we all are.”
“Yep,” Tex piped up. “Let the good times roll.”
King’s glare reached laser-beam intensity, and Tex actually had the good sense to look abashed.
“Sorry, boss,” he said, and seemed to mean it for once. “Smart mouth and all that.”
“Mmmmm-hmmmm.” King met Ace’s eyes, jerked his head at the sofa. “Sit.”
Ace sauntered across the room; Spider sank deeper into his chair and studiously avoided so much as a glance at the other man. He kept his eyes nailed to the floor, as if he found the pattern in the wood fascinating beyond measure. But nobody was fooled: it was crystal clear that Spider was hurting, hurting badly, and more than anything else, that’s what King had to address.
If only he were better at this whole emotional relating thing. But he kinda sucked at it, so in he plunged with his usual tact.
“You two have some history,” King said abruptly. “You can figure it out or not, but frankly, it changes nothing from our side. Me and my team? We’re looking to keep you alive and that’s it, fucking full-stop. Your soap opera shit is nothing but a distraction, and in our business, distractions get people dead. That’s not acceptable to me.”
Spider and Ace blinked, taken aback at his totally unsympathetic tone.
“You’re staying here,” King carried on relentlessly. “Together. You’re going to make it work between you. No arguments. No games. No involving my team. I don’t care what the hell happened between you, and I don’t care what happens next, if anything. You will do as you’re told, and you will help us help you. Am I being clear?”
Spider and Ace nodded.
“Good.” King stuck his massive hands in his jeans pockets. “Now, I want to talk to my people, so go to your rooms upstairs and settle in. You’ll find everything you need – clothes and towels and toiletries and even two laptops. No internet connection without a password, and the password changes every day and is given at our discretion, so deal with it. Spider, you’re the first door on the right at the top of the stairs. Ace, you’re at the end of the hall, first door on the left after the bathroom.” He lifted his chin. “Go.”
“Yeah, but –” Spider began, then quailed under King’s ferocious glower. “I mean… could I ask a question? Please?”
“Yeah. Shoot.”
“How long?” Spider asked, and the words were almost defeated in their smallness. “Am I looking at weeks here, King? Months? Have you got a timeline to fix this mess with the MC? Or is it… is this something that you have no plan of action for? Maybe the truth is that it’s impossible to do anything, and now I need to just – just put my life on hold for an undetermined time.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want that, but I think if that’s what I’m looking at, the fair thing is to tell me.”
King gazed at Spider steadily, but not unkindly. He was well aware that this whole situation sucked donkey balls, and sucked them big-time, but it was what it was, and everyone had to sort out a way to cope. It wasn’t going to be anything like easy, but then again, when had anything to do with Jensen and his MC goon squad ever been a cake-walk?
“OK,” King said, more gently. “I know we just upended your whole life, man. I do. We’re doing it with your best interests at heart, but still… your life has just ground to a halt. I’m sorry for that.”
Spider nodded, unbending a little bit.
“To answer your question about if we have a plan: the short and sweet answer is ‘yes’. We’ve seen this coming for a long while, Spider, and even though we didn’t anticipate how it would all come about…” Here King threw Ace a look; a part of him still couldn’t believe that Ace had blown Jensen away. “… we did know that it was inevitable. We knew that Jensen was going to end up dead, and Ace’s informant status was going to be compromised one way or the other… and when it was, he’d be exposed and in danger from his own MC.”
Spider shot a look at Ace himself. “You knew that he’d be exposed, King. Not me.”
“That’s true,” King admitted. “We didn’t expect for you to get dragged in. We thought that you were safe and away, and so you being here is a bit of a surprise.”
“Uh-huh,” Spider said, and now there was an edge to his voice. “But me being here doesn’t come down to you, does it? It’s not your fault.”
Now every eye in the room went to Ace, sitting there on the sofa and staring at his hands. At the change of mood in the room – because the atmosphere had suddenly gone heavy and electric with accusation – he raised his gaze at last.
His disinterested, disdainful gaze.
Those black eyes met every other eye in the room, and although he didn’t curl his lip or give everyone the finger, he might as well have. The lack of concern or taking of responsibility in his expression was nothing short of breathtaking, and Tex for one suddenly felt that it was a real struggle to not pound Ace Cuddy’s stupid, smug face into the wooden floor.
King, however, wasn’t fooled. Not even a little bit. He’d heard the tremor in Ace’s voice a few hours earlier, when the other man had apologized over and over again for screwing everything up. He’d heard the guilt and shame in Ace’s voice at putting Spider at risk; King had also heard the sheer terror in Ace’s voice when he’d begged King to make sure that Spider was safe. Finally, King had heard the soft hope, the surprising sweetness and vulnerability in Ace’s voice when he’d told King that he wanted a second chance with Spider. He’d also seen and heard nothing but relief when Honey had called to say that Spider was in the safe house, and King had told Ace that he was with his Men and was OK.
That had been Ace’s truth and his true feelings. This mask was nothing but protection, though it was counter-productive. King needed everyone involved to get along, and if Ace was going to be a dickhead about so much as apologizing to his ex, then they were off to a bad, bad start.
He sighed again, shook his dark head. Damn love. It fucked things up faster than anything else that King c
ould think of.
“OK,” King said, his voice gravel. “Go. We have time to talk things through, but right now, I need to brief Honey and Tex on a few things. They’ll be staying here tonight, taking turns standing guard. I’ll be back tomorrow, so you guys get your heads straight and you can ask me anything you want when I come back. Deal?”
“Deal.” Spider got to his feet, gave Ace one more disgusted look. “Thanks, King. Nice to know that someone here is looking out for me, and being honest and adult.” He swept out of the room, stomped upstairs. King half-expected him to slam the bedroom door, and was gratified when he didn’t, though Spider was plenty pissed, for all of that.
King’s eyes met Tex and Honey’s. They all shook their heads, all thinking the same thing:
This is going to be one hell of a pain-in-the-ass assignment.
**
Ace had spent the past ten minutes staring at his hands, not able to bring himself to meet Liam’s eyes, even though he knew that he should. The hurt and reproach and betrayal in those gorgeous brown depths would finish him, and he knew it. So gazing at the dirt under his nails it was.
He’d honestly thought that he couldn’t possibly feel more like shit about Liam getting hauled into his mess, but here he was, wrong about that. For about the eight-thousandth time in about four hours, Ace berated himself for hanging onto that pen drive of pictures. Why had he taken that kind of fucking stupid risk? Why?
But even as he asked himself the question – yet again – he knew the answer. Of course he did.
He’d kept those pictures because they were of Liam. That was the start, the middle, and the end of it.
They were of the man that he loved.
Had it been stupid? Yes, it had. Utterly, unbelievably, indefensibly so. But would he do it again, even if he’d known that this was the outcome?
Hell, yes.
Those pictures had gotten Ace through some rough, hard times over the past seven years, through some of the darkest dark that had ever descended upon his life. Liam’s face, his smile, his belief and trust and love shining through – they had saved Ace from ending his own life, and they’d saved him more than once.
Those pictures had reminded him that Ace Cuddy was a selfish and violent man who knew how to be generous and gentle. He was a heartless, emotionless bastard who did actually have a heart beating under that MC cut, and who did actually know what it was to love, deeply and absolutely and purely. A worthless piece of shit who had – once upon a time and just for a short while – been worth something to someone. Those pictures had been the best of Ace, the best that he could ever be, and they consistently and constantly showed him that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life by letting Liam walk out of it.
They were howling, aching, never-ending regret. They were hope and love and life. They were a talisman, a reproach, a wish, a dream. They made him smile and they made him curse himself; they brought him unending joy, and piercing sadness that damn near took his breath when it took full hold of him.
They were everything. Every single good and bad thing in Ace’s life was all wrapped up in those images, and stopping the sunrise tomorrow would have been easier than getting rid of them. That was why he’d kept them, despite the stupid fucking risk.
He’d needed them.
That was the start, the middle, and the end of it.
Now he just had to figure out a way to tell Liam all of that. And he supposed that looking up from his fucking hands and meeting the man’s eyes and opening his stupid mouth was an awesome place to start.
Come on, you asshole coward. Don’t you mess this up… again.
His mind made up now, Ace got to his feet. Right away, King, Jack, and the other two badass types stiffened slightly; the tiny, hot blonde even reached behind her and touched her lower back, clearly reaching for her weapon. Ace didn’t even blame them: he knew what he was. He knew what they thought of him. And he knew they were right.
“Going up?” Jack asked lightly, but those x-ray eyes were intense, man. “Turning in for the night?”
“Yeah,” Ace grunted. “Long day.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” King said, looking equally alert to Ace’s every move. “Before you go up, let me tell you a few things about this place, OK?”
“Sure,” Ace said, almost positive that he knew what was coming. “Hit me with all the ways that this farmhouse in the middle of a field is actually a fortress.”
King grinned, a rare sight. “It is. I know it’s got all the creature comforts of home…” He waved his hand around the beautiful living room, the cheerful open-plan kitchen, the TV and fireplace. “…but don’t be fooled. Hidden cameras everywhere, every window wired, every phone tapped, every computer monitored, motion detectors and lights outside up to a hundred feet from every side. And, of course…” Here he nodded at his team. “Two of my people here at all times. Someone is always awake and watching and doing rounds.”
Ace rolled his tired shoulders, winced as his bruised chest and side protested. “Got it.”
“No fucking around, Cuddy,” King said, his voice rough enough to crush asphalt. “I know you’re not happy about being here, but don’t even think about taking out my people and bolting, ‘cause they will – happily and without hesitation – shoot you in the fucking knees.”
“Jesus Christ, King.” Ace huffed out his breath, getting annoyed. “You think I have a goddamn death wish? You think I don’t know who’s gunning for me, and what they’d do if they got ahold of me? Why do you think I’m breaking my neck to run out and get my neck broken?”
“OK, OK, fair enough,” King said, holding up his large hands. “I get it. We all do.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t have a fucking clue, Kingston.”
King paused, exchanged looks with Jack. As always when things turned heavily emotional with clients or witnesses – not King’s forté and he was fully aware of that fact – Jack stepped right in.
“Alright, Ace… we don’t,” Jack said carefully. “What you’ve lost – your whole family, your home, your income, your sense of who the hell you are, and you’ve lost it all in one fell swoop – very few people can really get that. I know I don’t.”
Ace looked away. He could deal anger and hatred and derision, but sympathy and pity were going to finish him off, and Jack knew it.
“So, we’ll cut you some slack, OK?” Jack said, in his normal tone. “Give you a break.”
“Great,” Ace muttered, heading for the stairs, ready to get the hell out of there. “See you in the morning.”
They watched him go, then all looked at each other again. King sighed, feeling bone-tired, and he wondered if maybe, possibly, he was getting too old for this shit. He’d been running King’s Men for almost seven years by this point, and although he usually delegated things to his incredible team, that hadn’t been much of an option lately. This clusterfuck nightmare that had begun with Ace being strong-armed into informing for him, and had just worsened with Jensen being unceremoniously buried in the mountains, was all-consuming. Total delegation wasn’t possible anymore: King had had to be right there, in the thick of it.
“OK, guys,” he said. “Let’s go over just where we are in this goddamn mess.”
“In the thick of it,” Honey said, eerily echoing King’s own thoughts. “Up to our eyeballs, surrounded by slime and muck, in the damn dark, in the thick of it. With a death squad coming for the guys that we’re standing one floor under.”
“Yeah.” King sat down heavily. “Let’s go over our options to get out of it, then… all of us, and all in one piece.”
**
Spider was just thinking that the bedroom in this safe house was way nicer than anything he’d ever actually have in his own home, like ever, when he heard the knock at his door. Automatically, he froze and had to force down the urge to dive under the bed; that was when he realized, for
the first time, just how scared he was.
He took command of himself – after all, he had four very lethal people between himself and the front door, people who ate bad guys for breakfast – and called out, “Who is it?”
A pause. Then:
“It’s Ace.”
Now Spider did freeze, utterly and completely.
What the hell?
“What do you want?” he croaked, hoping that the words carried through the door.
“To talk to you. Can you open the door?”
Spider didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.
“Liam?”
Spider shivered. Nobody called him that – nobody but the man now standing a few feet away, on the other side of a door.
Suddenly, without any warning, before he could stop it or defend himself from his own memory, Spider flashed back to that other time that Ace had stood on the other side of a door, asking to be let in. It had been that night up at the cabin, after they’d sat alone next to a campfire, under a sky of endless stars. It had been the first night that they’d kissed; the first night that they’d shared a bed. It had been the night that had really started it all between them; the night that had brought them to this exact place and time.
To this fucking mess.
“Liam, please.”
At that sweet plea, Spider found that he’d gone from ‘scared’ to ‘furious’, totally bypassing any and every other emotion as he did so. He stalked across the room now, flung the door open, glared at the man that he’d once offered to give up every single damn thing in his life for – the same man who had now taken every single damn thing in his life away, through sheer stupidity and carelessness and selfishness.
“Uh. Hi.” Ace was clearly taken aback at the look on Spider’s face. “Uh – I wanted –”
“Oh, you wanted something, did you?” Spider hissed. “What the hell makes you think that I care even a little bit just what the hell you want?”
“Ummmm…” Ace peered at Spider. “I don’t want anything, Liam. I wanted to say something.”
Extreme Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 7) Page 4