I won’t let her.
“Ace didn’t murder you,” I repeat. “You are alive. It’s a miracle. We can be a family again. It’s like we got another shot at this.”
“Oh, girl, you need to go for awhile. You need to step outside for fresh air. I live in the real world,” Janie says, coughing on her words. “Family is family, but what does that really mean? From where I’m sitting, it never got me very far.”
“But I wasn’t the one who ran away,” I say as softly as I can muster, because if I don’t err on the side of meek, I know I’ll lose my shit. “I’m still here. I’ve been here for two months. For you.”
I want to tell her more, tell her everything. Tell her that the past can be just that. Because this can be the start of our future.
But she isn’t listening. I just don’t get it. I thought she’d wake up and see me, and realize that I was what she was missing.
But all she does is eye the phone on the bedside table and then tell me to go.
ACE
The arraignment goes quickly. The judge sets my bail and Mark calls Landon to come get me out. I have a hearing set in two days time, and I need to work with Mark to figure out this shit with Grotto before then. He has to be the one behind this.
I need to find out if everything that’s happened with Emmy is just Grotto’s doing.
Maybe she’s here to set me up—and, fuck me now, it worked. I love that woman, but she may be playing me.
It’ll kill me if that’s the truth.
As I sit in the holding cell, waiting for Landon, I wonder if in some ways this is my fault. If I hadn’t been so dead set on proving myself, I would never have pushed for that fucking piece of property. My casino should have been enough. But no, I wanted to take more. More control, more money—and that set Grotto on my tail.
Fuck. My pride is killing me. But no way in hell am I going back to jail. I didn’t leave my home, leave NYC, start over—just to get screwed by another gangster.
“Bail was posted,” a jailor says, opening the door to my cell. “You’re free to go.”
I change my clothes, get my shit, and sign out. Mark and my crew are waiting for me in the lobby, and I feel like a fucking fool.
Jack gives me a bro-hug. “Dude, what the fuck?”
“You genuinely freaked us out, Ace,” Landon says. “You disappear with Emmy for three days, then you were supposed to meet up with us and the real estate agent—and you go MIA.”
“Shit, I know. Glad Mark could fill you in.” I nod at my lawyer, more grateful than ever to have him back in my court.
“Anybody ass-fuck you in there?” McQueen asks, and I smile. It’s a good thing these assholes showed up because I was getting fucking depressed in the jail cell.
“I avoided the ass-fucking. Weird though, how that was the first fucking thing on your mind,” I throw back at him.
We walk out of the jail and the guys jump in Jack’s pimped-out SUV. Mark pulls me aside before I get in with them.
“Listen, Ace, Grotto screwed you over once and we can’t let him do it again.”
“I fucking know that,” I say, shaking my head. “You hear that Emmy’s sister woke up?”
“Yeah, I just got off the phone with Detective Clark. He’s with CCPD and has been on her sister’s case for months.”
“What’s he saying?”
“He just met with Janie. Apparently she’s pretty effed up still. Twitchy and skittish. Not sure what is coma-related and what is just her.”
“She’s an addict, Mark.”
“How do you know?”
“She was a prospective hire for the escort service the hotel uses. I met her once, like I do with all the girls contracted with Spades. We have high standards.”
“And she wasn’t up to par?” Mark asks. “Sounds sketchy, Ace. For you.”
“Not what I mean. She was high when I met her, totally fucked up. I wasn’t going to tell Emmy all this, she wants some happily-ever-after with her sister, but Janie is a fucking wreck. I don’t trust her.”
“But you trust Emmy?”
“I don’t know who to trust.”
“You can trust me, and those guys.” Mark points to the car. “We have your back.”
My jaw is tense, my shoulders tight. This has been a long fucking twenty-four hours.
“Do you think you can get anything out of Emmy?” Mark asks.
“You want me to trick her into talking?” The mere thought of it confirms everything I need to know about myself.
Emmy’s no fucking rat. She’s my woman. So fine, she can blame me for her sister’s crash. Or, fuck, be in on it with Grotto, try to frame me for shit I didn’t do.