ACE:Las Vegas Bad Boys(63)

“I know,” Mark says. “We’ll work on it.”

“And Janet, she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know, Ace, she’s been fighting for a long time.”

It’s a relief for things to have been settled between us. I keep acting like a motherfucking ass, and I need to do better. Be better. If I have any hope of someone as good as Emmy Rose sticking around, I need to keep my shit in order.

Just then, a noise comes from the hall. One second Mark and I are getting our shit figured out, and the next I hear Sherry yelling.

“Wait, just stop for one second,” she screams. But whoever’s out there keeps heading toward us.

“Hold it,” a voice calls, pushing open Mark’s door, not waiting for him to answer.

Two deputies in Clark County uniforms hold up their badges.

“What the fuck?” I look at Mark, wondering if he has any clue what this is about. He looks as bewildered as me.

“We have a warrant for the arrest of Ace Royalle,” an officer says, holding up an official piece of paper.

“What is this for?” Mark asks stepping forward.

“This warrant is for fleeing the scene of a potentially fatal accident.”

I shake my head. Fuck. This can’t be happening. My name is clear. My hands are clean. What the fuck is Grotto doing to me?

I can’t be held responsible for this; it will destroy everything I’ve worked to build.

I will destroy everything with Emmy.

The officer gets out a pair of handcuffs and pulls my hands behind my back.

I want to scream, punch something, but as the other officer reads me my Miranda Rights, I know I need to keep my face shut.

“It’s okay, Ace—we’ll get this sorted out. Keep your mouth closed, hear me?” Mark says coolly, trying so hard to keep it together. I see his fists balled, and the shock written on his face. I need him to believe my innocence.

“Ace Royalle, come with us,” the officer directs, and he leads me down the hall. I have no choice but to oblige.

Walking away in handcuffs is the last thing I want. The last thing I fucking need.

I wanted to keep my name clear, but Grotto seems determined to find a way to make me break.





EMMY


As I walk into the hospital my heart is still racing from the limo ride. I hate that Grotto got to me that way.

But more than anything, I just need Janie to start talking.

I’ve been here in Vegas for two months, teetering on egg shells, and I feel ready to crack.

The nurses smile at me, but seeing them just reminds me of how many days I have walked in here, hoping for answers, and not getting any.

I walk in Janie’s room and open the blinds. The air is dry—just the desert heat—and I sit, feeling parched. Feeling depleted.

It’s so frustrating, I spent three days being rejuvenated in Ace’s arms, my lungs filling with the gust of fresh air that I so desperately needed—and then after a short car ride where I was held hostage, suddenly it’s like I can’t breathe.

Sitting next to Janie, I grab her hand, pleading with her to talk. Her eyes are open, and she blinks, but she looks hollow. Like she’s still an empty vessel.

“Janie,” I plead. “I just need help understanding what was happening here in Vegas. What you were doing. I want to know who was driving the car the night this happened. I need to make sense of it all.”

Janie coughs, as if trying to open her throat, which must be causing her so much pain with the ventilator shoved down it.

“Janie who were you with that night? Who was driving the car?” As I beg, tears fall down my cheeks.

Her mouth cracks open, and she squeezes my hand. I know she hears me, I know she wants to help.

“Who was it?” I cry. “Who’s guilty? Who fled the scene of the crime?”

Her voice has been silent for so long, but her first words are clear. Clear as the desert day.

“Ace,” Janie says. “Ace was driving the car.”





23





EMMY


Everything spins: my heart, my head. Everything I thought was true ... isn’t.

I hold tight to Janie’s hands, and she stares at me as my words stumble out, trying to catch up to the sentence she just spoke. The one that rocked my world.

Ace was driving the car.

Ace, the man I just offered my heart to, the one I chose to trust, chose to believe. Chose to ... love. Because that was what was happening between him and me, I can’t deny that.

I haven’t said those words aloud—but damn it, they are written on my heart.

“Janie, you’ve been in a coma for two months. Are you sure you remember? It was Ace?” I ask her.

Two nurses have come into the room to check Janie’s vitals, and she tries to sit up with their assistance.