Page 16 of Hidden Desires (Bikers of Mayhem #2)
BLADE
T he guys spent the day working on their assigned tasks. Cade and Lucas headed to the police station to speak with one of the investigators. They were hoping that the police had learned more from the investigation over the past two days.
Nikolai vanished and was hopefully speaking with people on the streets, looking for anyone who might have heard or seen something. People from the streets were more apt to talk to bikers than they were to speak with the police, so at least they had that on their side.
For the time being, they didn’t have much to do until they heard back from the others, so Ace and Blade decided to hit the streets and see what they could learn on their own. And, hey, if they happened to stumble into a casino or bar, Blade wasn’t going to complain.
“Come on. One quick game. We can’t come to Vegas and not gamble. That’s a crime against humanity,” Blade tried to argue.
Ace gave him one of Marcus’s “who do you think you're fooling” kind of looks. It was eerie how similar they were, considering they weren't blood-related.
“We’re here to help Chester, not play a round of blackjack.”
“Shows how much you know. My game is poker,” Blade answered, giving Ace a smirk before walking off toward the entrance.
He knew Ace. The boy would cave and follow. He always did.
Ever since they met, that boy was always by his side. He might not have always been talking to him, especially when he was pissed at him. But no matter what, Ace was always just a few steps away.
Heavy footsteps behind him signaled that he continued to have a shadow.
Blade smirked.
Inside, the casino smelled of stale cigarettes and bad decisions.
Tired old men sat at slot machines, slowly tugging on the handles, all hope lost from their eyes.
Young cocktail waitresses in skirts that showed off the bottom of their ass cheeks walked by holding trays with empty glasses—remnants of people who had given up, or tried to drown their sorrows.
Clapping his hands together, Blade walked into the den of sadness , ready to kick it in the balls and take down the house.
This was his game. No casino was going to dig its claws into him.
Weaving in and out of rows, he searched for that table that made his stomach feel all tingly.
At first, he wondered if he was in the right casino. None of the tables were giving him that lucky feeling.
Then, when he was just about to turn and tell Ace they were going to another casino, he felt it. That sudden rush in his gut that told him he had found his lucky table.
“There! Found it,” Blade announced, pointing at a table three rows down with a chatty redhead and a dealer who looked like she would rather be eating her own hair.
Plopping his ass down onto the chair, he pulled out a stack of fifties and laid them out on the table.
The woman barely looked at him. She swept up his cash and handed him some chips.
Ace stood behind him, like a judgmental guardian angel sent to watch him and help him carry away his millions.
“Want anything to drink?” a cute little waitress, wearing a tight red shirt and extra-small booty shorts, asked.
“Yeah, I’ll have a whiskey, and he’ll have a watermelon martini.” Blade glanced up at Ace. “Or do you want something else?”
Something similar to shock sat on Ace’s face. “Actually, yeah. How did you know my drink order?”
Blade snorted, then turned back to face the table. “Please, you’ve been drinking those fruity posh drinks since you were seventeen—or twenty-one, if the cops are listening.”
Ace looked surprised. Blade didn’t understand why, considering he’d been chilling with Marcus and the guys ever since he moved to New Mexico.
Was he really that surprised that he knew the dude’s order? He knew all of his friends’ orders. For instance, Caden liked… hmm, he actually wasn’t sure what the dude liked to drink. Probably a beer of some kind.
Okay, back to cards.
The dealer handed out the cards, then proceeded to make her way around the table.
Blade spent the next two hours wiping the table with his god damn skills. It was only after he was up fifteen grand that Ace tapped him on the shoulder to let him know that they should probably leave.
Judging by the way security and the other pit bosses were staring at him, he thought that perhaps Ace was right.
“Now that’s how it’s done!” Blade cheered, shoving the money transfer receipt into his back pocket and holding the door open as they left.
“I had no idea you were such a shark when it came to poker.”
“It was something that I picked up over the years,” Blade said, shrugging his shoulders as he led them both across the street.
The sound of old western music caught Blade’s attention.
“No way!” Blade shouted, stopping dead in his tracks. “I’ve always wanted to do one of these!”
Ace looked up at the fancy writing on the sign taped to the window: Old Tyme Snaps.
“What?” Ace questioned in disbelief. “I never would have imagined that you would be interested in taking one of those old-time photos.”
Blade pumped his eyebrows with excitement. “Come on. It’ll be fun!”
He grabbed Ace by the hand and pulled him into the colorful shop.
Inside, the walls were covered with black-and-white photos. They had everything: Western scenes, Victorian scenes, even the roaring twenties—complete with flapper dresses and gangster suits.
All the photos looked distressed and aged, giving them an authentic look and feel.
“So? What are you thinking? Gun-toting outlaws? Or wealthy gentlemen from the South?”
Ace walked past all the photos on the wall until he came to one where two outlaws were chilling in a saloon, playing with their guns.
“This one. It’s perfect.”
Smiling, Blade wrapped his arm around Ace’s shoulder, then led him to the back of the shop, where an older gentleman was busy replacing some film.
“Have you boys found what you are looking for?” the man asked, straightening up and walking toward them.
“Western badasses in a saloon,” Blade answered, nodding over his shoulder toward the picture hanging on the wall.
The man nodded. “Perfect choice for you two. I totally get that bad-boy vibe from you both. Right this way.”
The man began pulling items from racks and holding them up against Ace and Blade, sometimes nodding, sometimes shivering in disgust. Everything needed to be perfect. Every prop, every item of clothing.
Ace and Blade exchanged laughs as each of them took turns throwing on the items being hurled at them. The man was an artist, recreating a moment that had somehow been lost in time.
That was the magic of the old-time photos. They brought to life a fantasy that had somehow been lost over the ages.
Once they were dressed, the older man tugged each of them into position. They stood back-to-back, guns raised, staring menacingly into the camera’s lens.
Even with their height difference, the two fit perfectly together.
“Now, sneer into the camera and tell the world that they will never take you down!” the man shouted, pointing a finger at them and glancing into his camera.
Behind him, he could feel Ace’s body press up against his as they leaned on each other for support.
His heart rate quickened. This, right here, felt perfect.
Laughing, playing around, and being… together .
This felt right.
This was what he wanted.
But what about Marcus? What about the rest of the crew? You know Marcus will kill you, probably kick you out of the crew, and never talk to you again.
The light from the camera flashed, startling Blade out of his growing panic.
What was he doing? He couldn’t come out. He couldn’t be with the boss’s little bro.
He would lose everything.
He would lose his family. His friends. His… Ace.
“Can we see it?” Ace asked the owner, stepping around the camera and glancing at the digital screen.
Blade swallowed down his anxiety. He had no idea what to do.
He wanted Ace. He craved Ace. But he also craved family. Brotherhood. A place where he finally belonged.
He was terrified that if he pursued something with Ace, he would lose everything else.
He had no idea what to do.
For now, he would check out the picture with Ace and then take the man out for dinner.
He was a stinking rich man now, after all. He was practically a Kardashian.
Bile entered his mouth. Gross. Even he couldn’t stomach the idea of ever becoming one of those…
Staring at the image of him and the man he had been subconsciously pining over for all these years, he smiled.
Damn, they looked sexy as fuck together. Looking at Ace, he realized that he was setting himself up for nothing but heartache.
Fuck you, Cupid.