Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
acelynn
Steam drifted from the coffee set before me, curling lazily into the stale air. The dark liquid resembled sludge more than anything drinkable, but that didn’t stop Parsons from knocking his back like it was a fine roast. Across the table, the low-rank rent-a-cop assigned to serve us smirked.
“See something you like?” I shot a glare up at the balding officer.
He grinned, flashing yellowed teeth as he reached for the necklace resting at my collarbone. It had been a gift from my brother on my eighth birthday. His grimy fingers brushed the charm, and I jerked away, but the cuffs locked me to the table.
“What’d you do to get yourself locked up in here, little Ace?” he asked, voice thick with a Southern drawl. His breath hit my cheek, hot and stale. He leaned in like he was admiring the spade charm, but we both knew he was trying to get a peek down my shirt.
I batted my lashes, voice dry. “A little bit of everything, judging by the charges.”
He let the necklace fall back into place and gave my chin a condescending tweak. I snapped at his retreating hand, teeth just missing skin.
Parsons chuckled under his breath. “I like that nickname. What do you think, Ace?”
“I think you should either tell me what you want or charge me already. It’s been a long night. I’d like to get some rest before I face a judge.” I watched the officer exit the room with a mocking wave before turning back to Parsons.
He let the silence linger, probably thinking it would rattle me. It didn’t. I’d learned long ago how to deal with men who thought power was a permanent thing…and how to turn their illusions upside down with a few calculated words.
My gaze drifted to Watson. He was hunched over a stack of papers, casually marking them with a pen every so often. He must’ve felt my eyes because he looked up. I smiled sweetly. “Or you could just tell me why I was brought in, Watson.”
“I…” Watson stammered, glancing helplessly at Parsons.
Parsons tilted his head, clearly weighing his next move. “Have you ever met Kaius Mordred?”
I frowned. “Maybe as a child, but I saw a lot of people pass through my father’s doors. They never paid me much attention.”
He studied me like a bug he was getting ready to squash. “So he wouldn’t remember you if he had seen you?”
“No, I doubt it. But he’d know my name if you gave it to him.”
“That can be changed,” Watson muttered, scribbling something on his papers.
I wrinkled my nose. “Change my name? Why bother if I’m going to prison?”
Parsons leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. “Or you could work with us—help take down the Knights of Lovelen.”
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Become an informant,” he continued. “We’ll dismiss all charges. You get your revenge, and we get to clean up the streets of Lovelen.”
I leaned forward, letting my elbows rest on the cold metal table. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Parsons said, lifting his hands in mock innocence. “Bring down the Knights, and you walk.”
“And if I don’t agree to this suicide mission?”
“Then you’ll rot away in prison. For the rest of your miserable life.”
With the mountain of charges stacked against me, I didn’t have the luxury of choice.
The deal was the only thing keeping me from a life sentence—or worse.
Parsons, with his superior ego, thought this plan was foolproof.
But he was blind to the obvious. If the Knights discovered me, I would be returning to him in a body bag, not with club secrets to bring them to justice he was so hell-bent on.
If there was anyone who deserved justice from them, it was me.
Infiltrating Lovelen’s most dangerous criminal empire wasn’t a mission. It was a death wish.
Not that they cared.
The department had backed me so far into a corner I could barely breathe, let alone escape. And now, with the possibility of gathering intel on the city’s most feared gang, they were more than willing to feed me to the coyotes.
I tore my eyes from the gold ring glinting on Nolan’s finger and refocused on my target.
Astoria. She gave an exaggerated roll of her emerald eyes before swatting Nolan Bedivere’s hand away from her hair and sweeping past him.
But not before glancing back and fluttering her long, dark lashes just enough to keep him twisted around her pretty little finger.
I raised my glass of water to my lips, watching from behind the rim as Nolan ran a hand down his face, struggling not to race after her. Every muscle in his back was pulled so tight, his leather jacket strained at the seams as his restraint wore thin.
Then Astoria turned, her voice smooth as velvet and sharp as a blade. “You’d better run back to my brother.”
She licked her pink lips with deliberate ease. “We both know how he gets when you keep him waiting.”
Nolan only lingered in the doorway for a heartbeat longer, watching as Astoria disappeared behind a teal-painted restroom door. Then, with a shove that sent the glass door rattling against the frame, he stepped out into the darkness of the desert night.
I stood from my booth and moved casually through the near-empty diner, weaving between the faded vinyl chairs that stuck out from the chipped tables until I reached the bathroom.
The moment I stepped inside, I could tell this place hadn’t been renovated since the ’80s.
Once baby blue, the walls were now dull and peeling.
The overhead light buzzed faintly, casting a sickly yellow hue over everything, making the bubblegum pink stall doors look even more awful than they already were.
My gaze caught my reflection in the mirror, and I had to mask the startled look on my face as I looked into the hazel contact lenses staring back at me.
It was like looking at a stranger. Another sacrifice to who I was.
Another piece of me stripped away in the name of survival.
I leaned forward, pretending to fix a smudge in my lipstick just as Astoria emerged from the far stall, eyes glued to her phone, completely unaware she was no longer alone.
She stepped up beside me, slipping the phone into her back pocket and flicking the faucet on.
I kept my act up, adjusting my shirt just enough for the silver chain around my neck to slip free.
The ace of spades pendant caught the flickering light, glinting in the mirror like the beacon of destruction it once was.
Astoria’s eyes snapped to it.
“Pretty necklace,” she said with a smile. But her tone was a blade wrapped in silk—soft on the surface but razor sharp underneath. A warning. This was the Knights of Lovelen’s territory. And opposing clubs’ symbols weren’t welcome here. Not unless you were family. And mine was dead.
I straightened slowly, matching her stance. She had a few inches on me in her heeled boots, but the height didn’t rattle me like she intended it to.
“Thanks,” I said smoothly. “My grandmother gave it to me when I was little.”
The lie felt like ash in my mouth. I touched the charm, letting my fingers linger on the familiar curve of the spade. “She thought she was being clever.”
Astoria tilted her head, eyes still fixed on the necklace. “Clever?”
“Yeah.” I let out a breathy laugh. “My name’s Acelynn. Every gift she ever gave had this damn thing on it. Some kids learn to bake from their grandparents. Mine taught me how to cheat at poker.”
That earned a genuine laugh from her. Astoria’s soft bubble of amusement echoed off the bathroom tiles.
“You’re funny,” she said through her laughter. “I might have to bribe one of the guys at the bar to sneak you onto the poker night roster just to see if you could clean my brother out. He could use a little humbling every once in a while.”
“Name the time and place.” I shot her a wink, letting the chain fall back against its home on my chest.
Astoria’s gaze sharpened slightly. “You must be new if you don’t know that wearing that out in the open could get you killed in Lovelen.”
There was curiosity in her voice, but not alarm.
Maybe she believed my story. Or maybe she was just good at playing along.
When you grow up around criminal activity, you learn how to chameleon yourself to be what people want to either take advantage of them or get out of trouble.
Either way, her posture had relaxed—and for now, that was a win.
I shrugged before turning toward the door and began to exit the bathroom. “Just moved here. Didn’t realize I had landed in a place where a simple playing card symbol could cause anarchy.”
“Oh,” she said with a smirk as she held the door open with one hand. “You have no idea.”
The click of her boots rang out behind me as we exited into the diner once again. I slid back into my booth. Astoria helped herself to the seat across from mine, no invitation needed. I guess when your family owns the entire town, you don’t need to ask for permission for much of anything.
“So, Acelynn…” She trailed off, fishing for a last name.
“Acelynn Thorton,” I said casually, offering my hand to her.
She took it in her own. The cool kiss of her metal rings brushed against my heated skin as she shook it firmly.
“Astoria Mordred.” She grinned, dropping my hand before leaning back into the booth. “What brings you to Lovelen, Arizona? Unless you are a fan of jumping chollas and the unrelenting sun, there is not much here for newcomers.”
I let out a snort of amusement. “I inherited a property from a distant relative. I had to come out here anyway to meet with her lawyer, so I figured I would stay awhile. Wasn’t leaving much behind in Raleigh.”
“Running from something?” Astoria’s smile dipped into a devious one that I could tell only meant trouble for anyone who came in contact with it.
“Running, relocating…same thing to me.” I lifted my glass and took a long drink. “And when this opportunity fell into my lap, I couldn’t help but jump at the chance.”
Astoria’s lips parted to respond, but the sharp crack of gunfire split through the air.
The front windows exploded inward, sending shards of glass spraying like shrapnel across the diner.
Astoria shrieked and ducked beneath the table.
I followed without hesitation, heart hammering against my chest as more bullets tore through the space.
My ears rang, but I could still hear the distant, angry shouts of men growing closer.
I locked eyes with Astoria, signaling that we needed to move. Now.
Her eyes widened with realization, but it was too late.
A hand fisted in my hair, yanking me violently back from under the table.
I screamed as my assailant dragged me across the broken glass, the sharp edges slicing into my arms, my legs, my side.
I kicked out, twisting and turning to try to break free, but my attacker only tightened their grip, dragging me across the diner floor like I was nothing.
We suddenly stopped. Their hand jerked my head by the roots, wrenching my neck at an awkward angle until my spine arched.
The man above me leaned in close. He was in his mid-forties with graying, thinning hair. A jagged scar ran across his throat like someone had tried to slit it a long time ago but failed to get the job done. His skin was pale, almost a sickly shade, and his eyes…
Dark. Familiar. Evil.
Recognition hit me like a freight train. And I knew with icy certainty that I had met this man before.
But the question was, did he know who I really was? If the answer was yes, then I was already dead.