“Soon. I was thinking maybe this Saturday at Charlotte’s birthday party.”
“If he bothers to show up,” Cassidy mumbles.
I sigh. Roamyn’s absence at our gatherings causes my stomach to tighten. I needed time. It seems he did too.
My Roamyn coated thoughts dissipate when my stomach rumbles, reminding me of its emptiness. Putting another cracker in my mouth, I grab my keys from the counter and purse from the hall table beside the front door. “I’m going to be late to the doctor if I don’t go now, so can you lock the door when you leave?”
“Yeah, sure,” Cass calls out and I shut the door.
Nausea overtakes me along with my vision and I stand still thankfully, on a quiet sidewalk on my path home from the doctor. My body temperature rises to scorching hot. I can’t see straight. A mixture of my body betraying me and the city sun pelting down on me. I breathe deeply. Why is it so hard to breathe? I steady a hand on the fence beside me. God, it’s hot. I still can’t see. The iron bars of the fence I’m leaning on become a solid foundation to hold me up. I lean my weight on it, squeezing my eyes shut while I wait for the moment to pass. My head spins and thumps at the same time, but after a few seconds, the spinning stops. The heat cools a little and as I reopen my eyes, the blackness dims. Replacing it, the black wrought iron fencing which just kept me upright. The cloudy fog clears and as it does a man steps out from behind the fence. His tattooed, muscled arms come up to his face and his hands cup over his mouth as he lights up a cigarette. His black hair hangs loose at his shoulders, covering part of his face, but as he looks back up my already dry throat closes up. As if he senses me staring he flicks his gaze my way and I quickly turn but don’t get far.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” His smooth voice stops me in my tracks. Shit.
Smoke and leather wrap around me. I force a smile. Ace devours me with his green eyes and tattooed biker hotness that should be avoided at all costs, because if I’m fucked up, this guy should be locked up and have the key melted down so he can never escape.
My back stiffens as he embraces me in a hug. My cheek connects with his Misery’s Angels leather cut, which brings back memories of Lucio, Giuseppe, and Sweet Tarts.
He stands back, letting me go. My nerves ease. I met Ace about a year ago. And when I say I met him, what I mean is I met his bare ass as he drilled into one of the girls from work, in the alley beside Sweet Tarts. He was there with his president for business with Lucio and after that, he became a regular, visiting every other week. For business, of course. We sort of became friends.
“You’re the last person I expected to see standing out of the front of Angels’ property.”
Well damn, me too. It’s not like I planned it.
I glance up at the signage behind us. Bright red, scrolly letters spanning the width of the building light up with the words Black Rose. In the middle is a long stem black rose and beneath it is another word. Bar.
My neck kinks in its position. “Huh. Didn’t know this bar belonged to you guys.”
I haven’t really seen any of their businesses. After finding out they were in business with the Marino’s I made a conscious effort to stay away from them. Except for Ace. He was harder to avoid and showed up more often.
Ace takes a drag of his cigarette and blows out a cloud of smoke in the other direction. “Sure does. Clubhouse is on the floors above.”
His gaze lingers on my chest then back up. “It’s been while, sugar.”
I roll my eyes at a man who has a degree in flirting. I’m sure of it. “Clearly not long enough, Ace.”
He chuckles. “Oh come on. Don’t be like that, Ali. What brings you to my bar anyway?”
I scrunch my nose up. “Your bar?”
Surely no one actually left him in charge of a place requiring human interaction that doesn’t involve torture? I know what he does for a living and it isn’t what you’d call glamorous.
He mulls over it. “Well, it’s the club’s bar. But I’m the manager, so I run