Chapter 62 Ace
Ace
The closer we get to Burlone’s house, the more tension accompanies our car ride.
King and I are practically robotic in our movements as we walk up the steps leading to an immaculate front door that’s got to be twelve feet high with a giant brass handle and a knocker that reminds me of medieval times.
The exorbitantly priced cars that line the driveway hint that we’re one of the last to arrive. Just like Kingston wanted.
He raps his knuckles against the monstrous door, then we wait.
When it opens, I see a guy with a diamond tattoo below his eye, and I instinctively curl into King’s side. He tightens his hold around my shoulder, silently grounding me when all I want to do is disappear. Glancing up at the man in front of me, I try to place how I recognize him.
There’s just something about him.
After a second, it hits me. I remember him from when I first overheard Burlone mentioning his alibi, then again when I saw him eavesdropping on my conversation with Jack before the tournament. He must be the one who revealed to Burlone that King and I were together. And I instantly hate him for it.
“Come on in.” The sketchy guy waves his arm with a flourish before bowing dramatically as we step over the threshold.
He seems like a thug. A jerk. An ass. I secretly wish someone would slam his hand in the door or make him slip on some ice and fall on his butt.
A ghost of a smile graces my lips as I imagine witnessing it.
If only.
“Play nice, Wild Card,” Kingston whispers in my ear, trying to contain his smile. He moves to lead me farther into the house when the guy stops us. “Excuse me, but your…”—he looks me up and down hungrily— “guest will need to wear these. It’s standard procedure, of course.”
Grinning wickedly, he lifts up a silver platter for Kingston to view. On it are a pair of handcuffs and what appears to be a collar. My nose scrunches in disgust while my heart stalls in my chest.
No, no, no, no.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” King spits, tightening his protective hold around my waist. His grip is almost painful, yet not hard enough at the same time. The stark bite from his touch is enough to remind me he’s here. He’s got me.
“Sorry, sir, but like I said, it’s standard procedure.
If you plan on participating in the tournament, then your buy-in needs to be properly handled.
However, if that’s a problem, you’re welcome to leave.
” The asshole has the audacity to open the front door with his right hand while still balancing the platter with his left.
Gritted teeth on display, King takes the collar and handcuffs but hesitates to put them on me.
I can see his reservations in his eyes as they connect with mine.
I never thought I’d see the man in front of me hesitate.
But right now? He is. I can see him at war with himself.
I can see the wheels turning in his head as he weighs his options.
Unfortunately, I know he’ll come to the same conclusion I have. We don’t have a choice.
Keeping my feet firmly planted, I stare at the objects dangling from Kingston’s hand as if they’re a snake waiting to strike.
My gaze turns to the guy who answered the door, then back to Kingston.
He looks about two seconds away from storming out with me in tow, throwing our whole plan out the window. And I can’t let that happen.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him under my breath while praying the asshat from a few feet away can’t hear me. My eyes dart to said asshat before returning to Kingston. “Promise.”
“Where are the keys?” King barks to the spectator who’s getting way too much enjoyment out of King’s reluctance. Without a word, he picks them up from the platter and lifts them into the air.
“Here you go. Once you reach the main room where the tournament is being held, you’ll place the keys in the center pot for the final winner to collect at the end of the night.”
With a final glare at Burlone’s thug, King turns to me reluctantly, looking way too helpless for his own good. I raise my arms toward him and shrug one shoulder.
“It’s fine, King. I’ll be out in no time, remember?”
My comment is meant to soothe him but only seems to rile up the guy who answered the door. Thankfully, another firm look from King is enough to shut him up.
King grasps my offered hands as if I’m a helpless bird and brushes his thumbs against the inside of my wrists before lifting the cuffs. The intention is clear in his apologetic eyes while the metal is cold against my skin, making me flinch when the locks click into place.
A satisfied grin is plastered on the asshole’s face as he says, “Best get going. Burlone is very anxious to get started, and you’re the last to arrive, so chop chop.
” He claps his hands for good measure before dangling the keys in front of Kingston’s face.
With a cold, hard stare, Kingston takes them from him, tucks them into his suit jacket, then guides me across the marble tile with his hand on my lower back.
As I look around the expansive foyer, my mouth opens slightly. The space is immaculate. Not a thing looks out of place, yet there aren’t any personal touches anywhere. Rich golds and deep reds suggest an opulence I’ve never even dreamed of.
“Is this Burlone’s house?” I ask, my voice coming out squeaky and mouse-like.
“Technically, no. It’s registered under an alias, but, yes. He owns it.”
“It’s huge.”
“Yeah. Take a left up here.”
“How do you know where you’re going?”
“They explained it in the email with a small disclaimer that if you’re not where you’re supposed to be, you’ll be killed without a second thought.”
I gulp. “That sounds promising.”
His deep chuckle reverberates through me as we round the corner. “No worries, Ace. We got this.”
I sure hope so, I think to myself, but I keep my lips zipped.
I wish his confidence was contagious because the only thing I’m feeling right now is that I’m about to puke.
When we reach the open ballroom, a smoky fog makes my eyes water.
Or at least I think that’s what it is. A gaudy chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and beneath it is a fancy poker table with black felt and six cushioned chairs surrounding it.
Five of the seats are taken by men while breathtakingly gorgeous women stand next to them with the same collars around their throats and handcuffs around their wrists as I’m currently wearing.
The sight is nothing short of a nightmare.
The fight or flight instinct hits me full-force, and I have to use every ounce of self-discipline to keep my feet from running in the opposite direction.
My eyes take in each individual girl, focusing on their discomfort instead of my own.
If we can pull this off, then they’ll all be safe.
Some have tears streaming down their faces.
Others appear to be numb from trauma. I nearly stumble when I see Gigi in a tight, red dress and a swelling bruise against her cheekbone.
“No. No, no, no, no,” I mumble under my breath, my eyes glued to my best friend as my entire body goes into shock. I’m shaking like a leaf when Kingston catches me at the last second and shushes me quietly so only I can hear. “It’s okay, Ace.”
“You don’t understand.” My voice cracks, and my eyes well with tears as I choke out, “Gigi’s here.”
I knew it was a possibility. Hell, I knew the odds were pretty damn likely, but it still doesn’t stop the reality that she’s been living an absolute nightmare from nearly taking me down to the floor.
And it’s all because of me. Because we sat together and bonded over breakfast foods. Because we were friends.
He tosses a quick glance over his shoulder at the table before looking down at me, and I know he can feel my pain as if it’s his own because I feel the same way.
“We’ll get her out. But I need you to be patient, okay?”
The metallic taste of blood explodes in my mouth as I dig my teeth into my lower lip to keep from having a complete meltdown. The tangy flavor is barely enough to keep my emotions in check. For now, anyway.
He’s right. If we’re going to get out of this, then I need to chill out and be patient.
Nodding, I follow Kingston to the last vacant spot at the table then place my hand on his shoulder like the rest of the girls.
The odd behavior makes me feel like I’m nothing more than an object––a pretty piece of meat for all the men to look at.
And boy, are they looking. I can feel their eyes on me.
The way they observe me like a cut of prime rib from the butcher, inspecting me for their own sick use.
My stomach rolls at the thought, and my fingers dig into Kingston’s shoulder.
Since he’s made of solid muscle, he doesn’t even flinch as I take a bit of my frustration out on him.
The collar feels like it’s slowly shrinking around my neck, making me swallow thickly.
Calm down, Ace.
With effort, I loosen my hold on him while reminding myself that Kingston needs a strong woman by his side so he can focus on Burlone. If everything goes according to plan, the slimeball is about to have his world thrown on its axis. And I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves then take the opportunity to get a closer look at the girls around the table. When I find Gigi looking at me with the same shock written on her face as I’m sure is written on mine, I want to cry all over again.
“It’s okay,” I mouth to her in an attempt to appear unfazed by the entire ordeal. I have no doubt she can see right through me.
She blinks rapidly in response, holding back a fresh set of tears. But she doesn’t say anything. Who knows? With the hell she’s been through, maybe she’s too afraid to try.