Page 40

Ace

“We have a little problem,” a voice says quietly over my shoulder.

I turn slightly to see tightly cropped platinum blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. With a heavy exhale, I prepare for what inevitable shit comes next.

“There are five names left, and you haven’t given me any direction on what you want to see happen.

One of those names is coming up on trial, and that’s going to make things more difficult if you’d like to see it followed through,” she says.

I’m instantly uneasy, knowing the conversation I’m going to need to have with Hadley about her father.

I should feel relieved—removing the problems is the only way this ends with my family safe and happy.

“Baldy, the bloodstock agent, left little to no room for error, especially after that outburst here. Julian helped me figure out a better extraction point. No more bodies traveling over the falls. Presh was getting testy about it.”

I lean back in my chair as Seraphine joins me at the bar, snagging my bourbon out from in front of me and taking a sip.

Peering back to look down the long hallway toward Hadley’s office, I’m hoping she continues to take her sweet time talking with Faye.

“I know I’m supposed to appreciate this,” Seraphine says, holding up the rocks glass. “But I prefer gin.”

“Hadley makes a good French 75,” I tell her.

She smiles knowingly. “I bet she does.” Then she casually adds, “The run-in your wife had at the Finch it’s one of the few things I want to keep. Trust isn’t something that needs to be earned with me, only taken away.

Seraphine turns on her chair and covertly says, “You might want to tell your bride you're going to be home a bit late, then,” as she nods toward the bar. “She doesn’t look very happy to see me.”

When I shift my focus, I’m met with glaring blue eyes. She looks down the front of me as she folds her arms and smacks on a piece of gum. There’s not an ounce of amusement on her face as she says, “Already breaking agreements, husband?”

Fuck . I know this doesn’t look good, and she’s right to think I have something to hide.

“It’s not like that, Hadley.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” With her hands on her hips, a sarcasim-laced look of amusement aims my way. “Mind telling me what it’s like, then? Because I’m making all sorts of assumptions.”

I kick back the rest of what’s in the glass.

I'm not processing any of this with logic, only emotions. The fact that there were dangerous men trying to intimidate her is enough to set my blood to boiling. Add in that these two tried stealing her horses and have been wrapped up in her father’s dealings.

I’m not interested in talking about anything right now.

“Then you can assume what I’m telling you is the truth,” I say, turning on my heel, fully prepared to deal with the fallout of this later.

“And I’m just supposed to believe that?” Her voice raises from behind me.

I don’t respond as I move up the stairs and out of Midnight Proof. I hate the insinuation—that she can’t trust me. But she’s right; there’s plenty I’m keeping from her. And the relationship I have with Seraphine is just the tip of it.

My fist hits his cheekbone on the first jab, and he smiles and slurs out, “Suka.”

“You like that?” I smile back.

“I think he just called you a bitch,” Seraphine says as she sucks on a red lollipop, perched on a metal barrel in the corner.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” The cracking sound with my left hook is followed up by a grunt and a stream of blood and spit. A broken nose usually adds enough dramatics to get people talking. “Say it again,” I seethe.

His accent is faint, but recognizable, when he says, “He said his daughter wouldn’t be a problem.”

Two more hooks have my knuckles splitting. I take a step back and try to catch my breath.

Seraphine crosses her arms, as if this was boring her.

“Ace, I have other, more effective ways to get what you want from him.” She glances at an ice pick and mallet that are laid out on the bench beside her.

The old tobacco mill along the edge of town is abandoned and condemned, which means there won’t be anyone around to witness any of this.

I throw an elbow against his jaw, and his head snaps to the left, where his friend is silent and bleeding out from the slices along his torso, courtesy of my colleague.

“What were you doing at Finch & King Stables? And this time, I’d like something that resembles the truth.”

He spits out a jumble of words in Russian, before answering, “We have not been paid what’s owed. So, we collect. The horses. He said the girl might be worth something?—”

I cut him off with another punch, only this time, I don’t stop.

I know exactly who they’re referring to, and I could guess who would give them the green light to take what they wanted if they weren’t paid.

When I take a deep breath and twist, driving my elbow clean across his face, the eye that had quickly swelled closed busts open, spurting blood along my arm.

My knuckles hurt, but I’m long past the point of caring about a little bit of pain.

The thought of either of these men coming near my wife is enough to throw my fists without letting up, the only sound bringing me any sense of relief being my fists colliding with his flesh.

When I’m satisfied, and he’s unconscious, I give Seraphine a nod, and she finishes the job.

They were never walking out of here, not after knowing what they were capable of and how close they had come to hurting Hadley.

“You never get this angry,” Seraphine says as I wipe my hands. “This is about the one you married, isn’t it?”

I glance at her, trying to calm my breathing and ease the adrenaline.

“The one who you’ve mentioned before. Your brother’s best friend. The one you look out for.”

That makes me pause.

“I know everything, or at least, eventually, I do, Ace. C’mon. I think it’s sweet. You finally got the girl,” she says, softening in a way I don’t normally see from her.

“It’s not like that.” Part of what she’s saying is true, but it’s not the way she thinks.

“Maybe not, but we both know the only reason I’m here right now is because of her. We’ll make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Of all the favors, Julian and I both know that this one is the most important.”

Thirty minutes later, and I’m pulling up to my house, which is lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

The time on the dashboard on my car reads 2:40 a.m., so there shouldn’t be lights on or anyone awake at this hour.

I planned on Griz being sequestered in his part of the house, but it was an oversight, thinking Hadley wouldn’t be awake with her late nights at Midnight Proof.

I’ve been so wrapped up in the last few hours that I forgot how we’d left things.

The low lights on the porch are on as usual, but so are the path lights to the stable, and a warm glow streams out of the ajar double sliding doors.

When I step into the stable, there’s music and Hadley’s voice echoes through the stalls.

There she is. The low chords play as she starts quietly crooning about wise men and fools rushing.

The song is poetically appropriate, considering we got married this week.

I exhale in relief at seeing her, and along with it, the adrenaline from what I just left starts to fall away.

I lean against the archway and watch as she brushes along the full length of her white horse, swaying her hips to the song, zoned out in her own world.

It’s rare to catch her like this—without putting on a show or a brave face.

I like how strong she is, but I respect it even more, knowing that a good chunk of the time, perceived strength is nothing more than stubbornness and bravado. It’s something we have in common.

Her tone is wildly off, and she laughs when she fumbles the words.

It’s part of what everyone in my family finds so charming about Hadley.

She’s naturally likeable and can make everyone around her, including me, smile with her quick wit, raunchy sass, and a lightness that I can never find on my own.

She turns and nearly jumps out of her skin, not expecting to see me—or anyone, for that matter—standing here.

“Holy fucking shit, Ace,” she laughs out, her hand splayed on her chest. “Warn a girl when you’re creeping up on her.”

Tossing the brush into her tack box, she wipes off her hands with the bandana stuffed into the back pocket of her barely-there pajama shorts. I’m trying to keep from looking at the very obvious way she isn’t wearing a bra with the loose tank she has on.

“Don’t give me hungry eyes right now,” she says with her eyes squinted and chin raised. “I was waiting up for you...I want answers—” She stops talking as soon as she spots my hands. “You’re bleeding.”

I look down at my knuckles. They had split and kept bleeding, but some of what’s on my forearms isn’t mine. I must’ve missed some of it.

“It’s fine.” I push off the wall and try to cover the carelessness of split knuckles and blood splatter.

She tips her head to the side and watches me curiously. “I’ll play nurse while you answer my questions,” she says, her shoulder brushing mine as she walks ahead of me.

Jesus .

Some of her anger from earlier has fallen away, apparently, but I’m not going to keep this from her. Maybe she doesn’t need to know everything, but I can tell her this.

As I follow her up to the house, I can’t help but crack a smile. And again, all I can think is: she’s here, and she’s safe.