Chapter 4
FOUR
ACE
Morgan and I hop in my Ford Bronco to head to the club for a meeting with our boss Denny. We started working for Denny Barone, the owner of a high-end nightclub downtown, last year. Club Sanctuary isn’t your typical nightclub, and Denny isn’t your typical dude.
We met him through our buddy Scott, a guy we met last year in class. Scott is Denny's nephew, who he lives with off-campus. Our schedules were almost identical, so we saw a lot of him. He was always alone, and kept to himself. It took a while for us to break him out of his shell, but once he got comfortable, he was attached at our hips. Scott's a good guy, just shy.
He approached us last year saying his uncle was looking for someone to help with IT and security issues at the nightclub he owns. Morgan and I both were planning to get part-time jobs for extra cash, so it was perfect. The job pays surprisingly well, and doing something we love comes easily to us. We'd never used our hacking skills for anything other than gaming... until Denny Barone hired us.
In the beginning, Morgan and I questioned why he didn't ask Scott to take the job. He told us his nephew has been through enough, and he doesn't want him anywhere near the club or the jobs he would be tasking us with. Eventually, we realized he wanted to protect him from what we learned was a not-so-legal job.
Downstairs, Club Sanctuary looks like most nightclubs: music, cocktails, and sweaty gyrating bodies on the dance floor. The public is welcome in the main club, if dressed in appropriate attire—men in dress pants and collared button ups, women in short cocktail dresses that leave little to the imagination. I tend to avoid the main club, because the real debauchery takes place upstairs.
Sanctuary Upstairs is Denny's sex club. It's members-only, with a private entrance away from the main club. I say members-only because this club is for the elite. It's an expensive buy-in with a hefty yearly fee. There are no "Average Joe" members.
After Denny explained the job to us, he told us working for him gave us access to Sanctuary Upstairs.
I always knew I had different tastes in sexual pleasures. I like being in control, exuding dominance over the women I fuck. I'm not a sadist by any means, and everything is consensual. But incorporating a little pain that heightens their pleasure is what does it for me. Fuck vanilla—my tastes surpass vanilla. I need the deep, rich sweetness with a kick of savory that melts on your tongue in the most appetizing way. What can I say? I have a complex flavor palate to fit my specific needs. I choose women with similar tastes to satisfy my hunger.
The shady shit tasked to us by Denny is worth the mindless fuck sessions we get with our membership to the club. Sex aside, the pay is great. No college sophomore is making the cash we are. We don't know all the specifics of our jobs, like the reasoning behind them, but we know enough to realize they aren't exactly legal.
When someone applies to be a member at the club, it is our job to vet them before Denny gives his approval. Background checks may be the main job for most potential members, but there are a select few that Denny wants extensive research done on. Pretty much any red flag we can dig up, he wants it for insurance.
Getting dirt on elite people in power requires us to hack into security systems… personal and corporate. When I said the tasks are borderline illegal, what I meant to say was they are illegal as hell . Lucky for us, we are good at what we do. The chances of anyone uncovering our part is highly unlikely. That way, if Denny ever needs a favor from a client that doesn’t want to cooperate, he has blackmail in an encrypted file that only he, Morgan, and myself have access to.
“Bro, why are you in such a fucking mood? Your shit has been off since we left the girl's' dorm.” Morgan pops an eyebrow in question, and my grip tightens on my steering wheel. I can’t tell him why I am so pissed. No way. I need to tread lightly with how I approach the topic of his sister.
What the hell is going on with her? Where is the kind, quiet girl who would follow me around asking me to proofread her short stories and fanfiction? I miss that girl. I don’t understand what happened at Stanford. If I’m being honest, I felt her pull away even before she left. I wish she would talk to me, I need to understand why she's angry with me. Morgan is my best friend, but Ainsley is my friend, too. We used to talk, and not just about small shit—we shared things.
I thought we had an unbreakable bond, much like mine and Morgan’s. It has always been the three of us, plus Cassie. I mean, Morgan and I had friends in all groups at school, but our main focus was hanging out with the girls. They were our ride or dies. They kept everything real when the fake people would do or say anything to get in our pants or be in our circle.
Ainsley’s only friend was Cassie, so Morgs and I would include them in almost everything. Obviously, parties were a no-go; there was no way we were letting her party. We partied and knew what was going on. Lots of drinking, smoking weed, and a lot of hookups. The parties were always in ritzy neighborhoods, so plenty of rooms for irresponsible teenagers to get reckless. She never asked to come, as it wasn’t her thing. She made our job as her protectors easy, and thank fuck for that.
I can’t comprehend how the girl I once considered one of my best friends is now a stranger. She looks different, and her demeanor has done a complete one-eighty. She has always been gorgeous. She may have hidden under baggy clothes, but I was always aware of her ethereal beauty that's had me in a chokehold for years.
Words cannot describe what a fucking smokeshow she is now. Her jeans have gone from baggy to tight as fuck, hugging every curve. Her ass is perfection in them. I could tell she wasn’t wearing much of a bra, because her nipples were poking through her once-loose band tee, now cut and form-fitting. Jesus, I need to stop thinking about her like this, my cock is starting to hurt straining against my zipper.
“What the fuck is going on with your sister?” I blurt out.
“I don’t know, man; she's older and was bound to grow out of her tomboy phase. Mom already warned me about the difference in her appearance and scolded me to avoid busting the new and improved Ainsley bubble. Just let her be. I want to loosen the reins where she feels free to be her, but also watch her like a hawk to make sure she is safe.”
I get Morgan’s strategy, but I would rather her know what she can and can’t do. She’s going to a party! Fuck! We never had to worry about this. I know, I know, it’s a double standard. Morgan and I did whatever the fuck we wanted during our high school years and still do, but Ains is different. She doesn’t need to be part of typical college life. She is better than parties and meeting random men. Fuck. She is going to be meeting men looking like that? They are going to pounce on her the second they see her.
Why do you care, dude? She is Morgan’s little sister, and your friend. Well, maybe not friends anymore. What the fuck could I have done to make her hate me?
“I get what you’re saying bro, but she is different. The guys at this school are going to try anything and everything to get into her pants. We need to shut that shit down before it happens.” I rub my forehead, frustrated that he is so accepting of this new version of her.
“We will still keep an eye on her, and make sure she isn't talking to anyone she shouldn’t be. Fuck, bro, is it wrong at this point for her to find a boyfriend? She's eighteen, and it’s about time she gets some real life experience.”
Why does what he is saying grind my fucking gears? He’s right, just shut the fuck up and let her be.
I know at this point I have taken my protector role to another extreme. If her own brother thinks this shit is okay, then why shouldn’t I?
Maybe it’s because you've thought about her 24/7 since she left for California. Not to mention the shower jerk-off sessions where you…
Fuck. I need to stop, and get out of my own head. She is Ainsley, Morgan’s little sister, and apparently now the bane of my existence.
I turn the stereo up to drown out the inappropriate thoughts of the little sister to the man sitting passenger. As Steel Dragon’s "Wasted Generation" pounds through the speakers, I tune out the girl who is consuming my thoughts for reasons I can’t explain.
* * *
We pull up to the club and make our way inside the three-story industrial style brick building. Entering the club, we are greeted by one of the hostesses. She’s cute, and I probably would have hit that if she was a member of Sanctuary Upstairs, but she’s not. I stick to members only, and choose to not fuck around with women outside of the club. I find that my needs are met more with women whose tastes match my own.
“Hey, babe. The boss around?” I flash her a lazy, half-cocked smile. Babe works just fine—I’ve never bothered to remember her name. I may not fuck her, but I can still lay on the charm. She bats her overly long eyelashes at me. “Yes, he's in his office waiting for you guys.” I can tell she’s trying to hold on to some kind of professional demeanor—but she fails miserably when that pink flush creeps up her cheeks.
Walking upstairs, Morgan decides this is the perfect time to insert his two cents. “Dude, have you hit that yet? She fuckin' wants the D, and by D, I mean yours.” He smacks his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side embrace.
"Knock it off. She's like that with you, too," I say, brushing his arm off my shoulder.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t know blonde hair and big tits weren't your type anymore. I would hit that myself if she had eyes for anyone other than you.”
I smirked, flipping him the bird for good measure. She was hot, I’d give him that, but she wasn’t what I was looking for.
We knock on the door and enter Denny’s office.
“What’s going on boss? New job?” Morgan asks as he drops into one of the chairs in front of the desk. Denny’s office screams sophistication. A large dark mahogany desk takes up the main part of the office, a matching bookcase and bar cart sit off to the side. Denny is perched in his oversized office chair looking like the OG he is.
“Boys! I don't have a lot of time, so let's get into it. I have a potential client, and need the full check done. I need dirt on him, and all of it. The dirtier, depraved, and scandalous, the better.” We nod in unison, both knowing this is an easy ask. Denny may think he is asking a fuck-ton from us, but we never let him in on the fact that most of this work is child’s play.
“Sure boss, we can have it ready by the end of the week,” I say.
"Boys, be careful. This man is higher up than you're used to, and influential as hell.” His eyes scrunch in concern as he gives us the warning. I swear, this man treats us as if we were his own blood.
* * *
Back at our townhouse, Morgan and I start working on the new job. We've only got a few hours before we take the girls to the party, and the fact that it's on Greek Row is already pissing me off. I fucking hate frat parties, they're a bunch of steroid-infused jocks that do anything they can—right or wrong—to get a girl upstairs. Just a bunch of preppy little bitches with short dicks and low IQs—not my cup of tea.
Both of us pull up the file on this potential member of Denny's. Jenson Samuels. Holy shit. Jenson Samuels is Idaho’s state senator. We have had clients that made us bat an eye at their level of power, but never to this caliber. Now I know why Denny looked so concerned when giving us the job.
I'm not sure what he intends for us to find, this man is a golden boy. He ran his campaign squeaky clean, and the public loves him, which is why he won. This may be harder than I thought. We need to prove that our beloved state senator is not all he seems to be.
“Fuck, dude, this is big… bigger than what we have normally gotten into. What could Denny possibly need from a state senator?” I ask. Morgan’s brows furrow with the stress that I’m feeling.
“We need to be careful with this one, more careful than we have in past jobs.” He jerks his shoulders in a shrug.
“I know, brother, this is going to take every safety precaution we have. Fuck, the man’s entire campaign is how straight and narrow he is. He obviously isn't the golden boy everyone thought he was, and Denny must know there is more or he wouldn’t have us digging.” I let out the breath I was holding in as I finish speaking.
Morgan breaks my concentration as I stare at the computer screen.
“Fuck it, dude. Tonight we are going to take the girls out and party. Let’s distract our minds with booze and keep an eye on Ainsley and Cass.” His hand grips my shoulders in a friendly gesture to calm my nerves.
He’s right. Tonight I need to focus on keeping Ainsley safe. I don’t like the idea of her at a frat party, but Morgan co-signed, so what the fuck else am I supposed to do?
Watch her like a hawk, that’s what I’ll do.
* * *
We pull up to the girls’ dorm and hop out of my Bronco, both leaning against the hood when my lungs abruptly lose breath.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
The girls are walking out the main doors, laughing together like one of them told the most hilarious joke. I’m not amused, and from the looks of it, Morgan isn’t happy either. Before I can say anything, Morgan jumps in.
“What the fuck are you two wearing?” He eyes both of them up and down in disapproval. I thought he would be coming for Ainsley, but he is freaking out on both of them.
“Excuse me? We are wearing clothes,” Ainsley announces as both of them do a twirl.
Cassie is wearing a short maroon velvet dress that falls in a flowy way, but stops above mid-thigh. Her blonde hair is perfectly straight and falls a little below her shoulders. She is wearing very high platform sandals that make her legs look longer. Personally, I don’t care what Cass wears, but it seems Morgan does.
He continues to berate them, demanding they go upstairs to change. I stare at Ains as she rolls her eyes, arguing with her brother. Her long hair falls around her shoulders in large loose curls, and her makeup is more than I’ve ever seen her wear before. She looks gorgeous.
My gaze drifts down her body. It’s still warm out, so she has painted on cut-off denim shorts that are shorter than Cassie’s dress. Her band of choice tonight is Coheed and Cambria, a black tee that is knotted right underneath her bra, showing a decent amount of her toned stomach with the collar cut out, so it hangs off her shoulder. Black platform Doc Martens finish her look, and fuck me, her legs look edible.
I’m annoyed thinking of the amount of guys at this party that will be trying to hook up with her. As much as Morgan is trying to let her fly or what-the-fuck-ever, I refuse to let her shack up with some frat boy douche. She is so much better than that.
“Hello…Earth to Ace! Can you jump in to tell your BFF he’s acting crazy?” Cassie pops her right hip out, placing her hand on it with all her normal attitude.
“Um, no Cass, I can’t. I’m not trying to spend my night fighting off a bunch of assholes. Ainsley, listen to your brother and go change,” I say with enough force to get my point across.
She isn’t having any of it.
“Glad to see Mom’s pep talk lasted so long with the two of you. Let me just call her.” Ainsley whips out her phone to press her mom’s contact, when Morgan chimes in.
“Yes, please do call Mom. I’m sure once she sees what you’re wear—” He's cut off abruptly by Ainsley.
“She already saw what I was wearing and said I look good. We FaceTimed her before we walked down here.” Her face forms a cocky smile. She knows that will shut Morgan up.
Morgan and I look at each other and realize we have no more ammo with the seal of approval from Mrs. Copeland. Victory lights up their faces as they smile at each other and brush past us, hopping in the backseat of my car. We follow, because what else are we going to do at this point?
Driving out of the parking lot, I can’t help but glance at Ainsley in the rearview. She must sense me looking, because her gaze pulls to look back at me. I try to get some sort of reaction from her through eye contact, but she rolls her eyes and looks out the window again. That eye roll of hers is getting on my last nerve. If we were in a playroom at the club, I would show her just how much trouble she'd be in acting like a brat. Bratty attitudes have consequences.
Dude, fucking stop. You can’t think like that, not with her. She is never allowed in the club…ever!
* * *
As we walk to the stairs of the frat house, I watch Morgan and Cassie walk ahead, talking quietly. Their hushed voices seem light, but their body language gives off a hostile energy. I'm sure he's giving her an earful on their outfits still.
Ainsley walks up the stairs in front of me, and I notice the bottom of her ass poking out of her shorts with each step she takes. Hell no! I quickly pull off my hoodie and walk up behind her. She doesn’t have time to object as I wrap my arms around her waist, turning her to face me. Without giving her a chance to speak, I place my finger to her lips, shushing her. Pulling the sleeves around her waist, I tie them into a hard, firm knot.
"I get it, you have a new wardrobe, but I seriously doubt you want all of Greek Row getting a front-row view of your ass.” My lips curl up into a smirk, because while I know she is making more daring choices, her ass on display was not what she had in mind. She shakes out of my hold and adjusts the hoodie, not making any attempt to take it off.
“Thank you,” she huffs out in annoyance. Obviously she doesn't want to accept the gesture from me, but knows it’s that or be uncomfortable with the catcalls she would receive showing off that work-of-art ass.
I just nod my head at her with a valiant smile on my face. Her cheeks turn a slight pink hue, then she turns and walks away. Ainsley may believe she is going to keep her distance from me all night, and I may let her think that, but I will be watching her every move.