Chapter 7
SEVEN
ACE
The car ride to Ainsley’s dorm is silent, and it’s awkward as hell. The girls sit in the back seat, which is fine by me. Morgan would be suspicious if I told Ains to sit up front. I’m not sure what came over me, grabbing her like that. Maybe it was her wearing my shirt. Maybe it was the fact that it barely fell to her mid-thigh, her soft skin on display.
No, I’m pretty sure the moment I lost all self-control happened the second her scent cascaded over me, as she was brushing me off with this bitchy-girl persona she’s trying to maintain.
Of course I was goading her; I know that. I needed to see her react to me. I could tell she was feeling the same way I was when I tugged at the bottom of my t-shirt and brushed the tips of my fingers across her bare thigh.
The universe is an insolent bitch, constantly testing my willpower to stay away, but flooding me with feelings for her, making it damn-near impossible. The need to touch her was consuming me. Fuck, I couldn’t control myself. If Morgan didn’t interrupt us, who knows how far I would have taken it.
I glance in the rearview mirror at the gorgeous girl—let me rephrase that, the off-limits gorgeous girl—as she stares out the window, lost in her thoughts. She must sense I’m watching her, because she turns in her seat, making immediate eye contact with me. We both stare at each other, trying to voice a million things without making a sound.
Morgan clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence.
“That wasn’t bad for a frat party. Ains, you have fun?” He doesn’t give her a chance to answer. “I know Cass had fun. Didn’t you, Cass?” A sinister laugh ripples from his throat. He turns to face Cassie in the back seat and shines a cheeky smile.
“Blow it out your ass, Morgan! My memory of last night is choppy anyway, so I guess the night wasn’t all that great. Oh well.” She shrugs her shoulders and gives him a smile like she won that round, but I know Morgan. He doesn’t let anyone have the final word.
Damn. Something happened between them last night.
He stretches his back to full length. “Riiiight… You were hanging out with the barista boy—how’d that turn out?” She shoots him a glare that’s answer enough, but he continues. “Guess some guys can’t handle a little competition in a wholesome drinking game.”
“It didn’t help that you challenged him to multiple rounds of beer pong, and he hardly drinks. I was enjoying myself before you jumped in with your ‘roided-out testosterone. What? Couldn’t talk some sorority skank into slumming it under the covers with you?” Cassie’s face screws into a scowl. She’s pissed, and I can see why. I know how Morgan is when he gets into competitive beast mode. It makes him a talented hacker, an insane gamer, but ruthless verbal sparring partner.
He is radiating jealousy, and my only question is why? If he does have feelings for Cass, I wasn’t aware of them. At this point, the car ride could not get any more tense.
“Yeah, you looked like you were having the best time, Cassandra,” Morgan’s voice drips sarcasm. “That dude was a pussy, and you looked bored out of your mind. I thought I was doing you a favor by saving you from the male version of Martha Stewart.” Ah fuck, he broke the cardinal rule when it comes to Cassie Sinclair: never call her by her government name.
“You know what? Fuck that. I’m not going to do my girl Martha dirty like that. She did time, and she’s friends with Snoop Dogg. That's a lot more interesting than some nerdy barista talking your ear off about macchiato. I bet his favorite band is The Dave Matthews Band.” The mocking laugh that rumbles from Morgan’s chest is laced with hostility.
This asshole continues to laugh. “That must be your type—bitch boys lacking backbone.”
My eyes are bouncing back and forth from Morgan to Cassie, while still trying to maintain focus on the road ahead of me. I see the hurt on her face before she flips her lashes down and looks at the floorboard, avoiding eye contact.
“What the hell, Morgan? Knock it off.” Ainsley reaches for Cass, wrapping an arm around her in a side-hold. Cass rests her head on her shoulder and the car goes silent again.
Finally, we make it to their dorm before anyone chooses violence. I park the car and hop out fast, because the girls are already taking off toward their building.
“Hey, hold up.” I start jogging to reach them.
“Cass, you know he didn’t mean it. He gets in those—” Cassie cuts me off with her raised hand.
“Stop defending him. I’m not his fucking punching bag, Ace. You guys may get away with treating Ainsley like she's property no one can approach, but I’m not the one.” I get what she’s saying, but damn. I wouldn’t say we treat Ainsley like our property. That’s a bit of a stretch.
“I’m saying sorry for Morgan. That sucked.” I don’t know what else to say to her. Morgan may eventually feel guilty, but his stubborn ass won’t apologize…he never does. I swear, stubbornness is the only thing besides DNA that he shares with his sister.
“Whatever. I’m heading in. I’ll meet you upstairs, AC.” She flips her hair and walks inside.
I look back at the Bronco and see Morgan has turned the stereo up loud, probably to drown out this conversation. I turn back to face Ainsley.
“Look, I meant what I said. We will be having a conversation about what happened earlier. You’re not going to brush me off like you've been doing since you got here.” I will make her talk to me. This passive aggressive bullshit is done. I’m clueless as to the cause of her sudden repulsion, but I swear, she will tell me what crawled up her tight ass.
“I don’t know why we have to have a conversation. We have never—You know what? Forget it. Let’s chalk it up to a mistake.” Her mouth sets in an unforgivable angle.
“Stop talking. I’m over you acting as if we haven’t been friends for more than half of our lives. Listen, I’m working tonight and tomorrow, but I will pick you up at seven tomorrow night. Be ready.” Fuck, maybe Cass is right. I know I’m controlling when it comes to sex and work, but not typically in my day-to-day life.
She goes to speak, but I lightly pinch her lips shut. And there she goes again, rolling those golden eyes, propping her hand on her hip, waiting for this conversation to be done. I bite the inside of my cheek to calm the thoughts running through my head. Ainsley acting like a brat makes my cock twitch uncomfortably. My hand tingles with the urge to swat her backside while she's bent over my lap. I have an unnerving need to see her ass painted a pretty shade of pink.
“Fine.” Ainsley pivots on the ball of her foot and starts walking briskly toward the door.
That’s fine, she can have the last word. I watch her disappear through the door and make my way back to my Bronco as Morgan blares “She Hates Me” by Puddle of Mudd. I don’t think he’ll be feeling guilty any time soon. Dude may not talk about his feelings, but you read them loud and clear in his music choices.
I plop my ass in the driver’s seat and drive to Sanctuary. The aggressive songs he chooses play loudly the whole way there. It’s alright, he wouldn’t want to talk right now anyway.
Walking into Sanctuary, Macie stands waiting to send us to Denny’s office. I am in no mood for small talk or casual flirting, so I just smile and nod as we pass.
Denny sits in the huge leather chair at his desk in deep concentration. He presses his pointer finger to his lips, gesturing to keep quiet. Morgan and I both drop in the chairs that sit across from him. I hear a deep voice through the speaker of his phone.
“I don’t think it’s going to happen, Denny. Pretty Boy Samuels is all about his public image, and refuses to tarnish it.” It sounds like Walter, Denny’s second, on the phone. Morgan and I call him Wally, despite his negative opinion of the nickname. Big tough guy Wally acts as if he doesn’t like us, but I know deep down he does.
“Well, that false pretty boy image he tries so hard to keep will surely tarnish if he doesn’t do what is asked of him. We need time to build up his file. I need all of the ammo I can get, so he has no option to say no. But listen, the boys just walked in, so I’ll touch base with you later.” He hangs up the phone and turns to us.
“How was your night off? I noticed you didn’t show up at the club last night.” He asks because nights off from work usually mean we are at Sanctuary for fun.
Morgan answers first.
“My little sister starts school this semester, and her obnoxious friend had the bright idea to go to a frat party. We needed to tag along to supervise.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he huffs out dramatically, giving away his annoyance.
“I see. Well, I’m sure everyone upstairs missed you. Apparently you two are the stars of the club when you show up.” Denny lets out a deep laugh, and signals me with his hand to chime in.
I’m going to skip over the small talk and jump right into the job. How popular our dicks are with members is not something I plan to chat about with Denny. Honestly, I'm surprised he noticed—I rarely see Denny upstairs. I know he’s a busy man, but he’s also single. I’m straight, but I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to be able to admit he’s a good-looking older guy. Women at the club downstairs and upstairs flock to him on a daily basis. Not only is he good-looking, but he’s rich as fuck too. The few times I’ve seen him upstairs, he never partakes in public sexual activities. I get so wrapped up in where my dick wants to land that I lose him, and never see where he goes. I just assume he takes someone into a private room.
“So about this job. Morgan and I did some research, but not a full dive. We know who the target is, and obviously the typical information we need to get. Is there anything you are particularly looking for that you need us to dig up?” .
“All business, my boy; I like it. Yes, let’s get to it. Jensen Samuels was in attendance at a charity luncheon I attend. He has never been on my radar for potential membership, because his good boy public persona is squeaky clean. A member of his security team cornered me alone, informing me our state senator would like to have a brief meeting with me in another conference room. I was intrigued to hear what he wanted with me, so I followed the guard. Once in the room, we had our pleasantries, and he got down to business. Samuels asked to be an off-the-books client of Sanctuary.” He lets out a long breath, because that was a mouthful.
“What exactly is an off-the-books client?” Morgan asks. I’m glad he did, because I have no clue, either.
“He would like to be a client without a paper trail. Obviously I would never allow that, but he doesn’t need to know. You boys have our server so encrypted, it’s without-a-doubt unhackable. With that being said, he won’t be attending the club. It's too risky for a politician to be spotted, and rumors to start flying.” Denny’s taking forever to get to the point.
“Okay, so if he won’t be attending the club, then how will he be utilizing his membership?” I ask, confused as fuck.
“He has a few friends who enjoy the same lifestyle he does. He’s looking to host a private party at one of my more discreet locations - with a few of my most trusted members in attendance to round out the guest list. He’s willing to pay triple my yearly membership fee for the discretion. I agreed to him and his friends becoming clients, as long as they pass your background checks.”
“Don’t you think this sounds a bit risky? I mean, of course background checks will be completed thoroughly, but have you thought this through? I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, this just seems out of the club's element.” Morgan’s eyes widen at my bold questions, but I like Denny as an employer and a friend.
“Son, you leave the worrying to me. This is a huge opportunity that gets me closer to something I have been working on for years. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” There is no malice in his tone.
“Alright Boss Man, we'll head home and get to work. You'll get a call from one of us with updates on the burner, and we'll let you know when you have the green light to proceed,” Morgan tells him.
“You worry about the research, boys. Walter and I will handle the rest.” Denny stands to shake each of our hands. "Let me know if you run into any trouble."
"Will do, Boss Man."
My mind is spinning with the amount of work we have—on top of school starting the day after tomorrow. I have no idea how I will balance it all, but this is why Morgan and I are a team. We divvy up the job and help each other with school. It’s a balance that has worked for us as long as we have been friends.
My mind goes back to Ainsley and the conversation we’re going to have. I’m not sure how I’m going to get away without Morgan asking questions when we have so much work to do. I'll have to think of something. This is probably my only chance to clear the air with her. If I cancel, I doubt she will agree to meet with me again.
Once we are back in my car, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and reach to grab it. It’s my dad.
Dad
Hey, pal. You know that fundraiser Mom and I were planning to attend in Boise?
Me
Yeah. It’s next weekend right?
Dad
Right. Well something came up at work and we are unable to attend. I know you hate those types of events, but I need someone from the family to be there to show support. Can you do me a solid and go?
Me
Ugh. Dad. I do hate those things. Do we really have to be there?
I see the dots pop up and wait as he types his response.
Dad
Son, please do this. I added two more seats to our table, so bring Morgan, Ainsley, and Cassie.
Me
Fine, fine. I’ll do it.
Dad
Great. Thank you. Your moms shipped your tuxedos to the local dry cleaner near you. They should be ready Friday. I'll have a car pick you guys up from your apartment at six Saturday evening. Talk soon, pal.
Me
Sounds good, Dad.
I groan as I drop my phone in the cup holder that sits between Morgan and I. Of course this happens when I already have so much going on. Other than my plan to meet up with Ainsley, I was shooting for school and work being the only things on my agenda for the next few weeks. Morgan notices my displeasure as I start the car up aggressively.
“So you want to tell me what text has your panties in a twist?”
“Don’t worry, once I tell you, your attitude will mirror mine. My dad is bailing on the fundraiser he and my mom were supposed to attend, which means you and I will be going in their place. He also had the bright idea to buy two extra seats at the table for Ainsley and Cassie.” He stiffens at that, and now he looks as displeased as I feel.
“Fuuuck…Dude, you know I hate those stupid-ass fundraisers. It’s a bunch of uptight rich people. Men talking about stocks and golf. Women talking about charities and summer houses. It’s fucking boring, and you’re telling me I have to sit through all of that with the Evil Queen herself? Fuck.” Yeah, that is exactly how I feel. Well, not about comparing Cassie to the Evil Queen, but everything else.
“I already agreed, and the moms shipped our suits to the cleaners, so it’s a done deal.” I turn the music up to drown out his disgruntled moans as he turns away from me, looking out the passenger window.
At this point, it is what it is. Glass half full, though: Ainsley will be there. With more one-on-one time, we can hopefully continue fixing whatever fucked us up. I start driving to the apartment, letting my mind drift off to what I will say to her tomorrow. As for the rest of the night…Morgan and I have a shit-ton of work to do.