Chapter 7 - Ace
The cot in the storage room is about six inches too short for my body, leaving my feet dangling off the end all night. My back protests as I sit up, rolling my neck to work out the kinks. Light filters through the small window, telling me it's already morning.
Checking my phone, I see it's just past seven. I slept longer than intended, though "sleep" might be a generous term for the restless dozing I managed between thoughts of Sarah upstairs in my bed and Vultures MC potentially regrouping for another attack.
I pull on a clean t-shirt, wincing as the movement tugs at my bandaged shoulder. The bullet graze is healing, but it still throbs when I push too hard. Not that I have time to baby it today.
Today, I'm taking Sarah to her apartment. The thought sits uneasily in my gut. Any movement outside the clubhouse is a risk right now, but I understand her need to reclaim some control over her life. God knows I've taken enough of it from her already.
The clubhouse is quiet as I make my way to the kitchen. Most of the brothers are still sleeping after yesterday's excitement. Only Ghost is up, sitting at the kitchen table cleaning his gun.
"Morning," he says without looking up.
"Morning." I head straight for the coffee maker, pouring myself a cup of the strong black brew Ghost always makes. "Anything happen overnight?"
"All quiet." He sets down a piece of the disassembled weapon. "Reaper wants to meet when everyone's up. Talk about next steps."
I nod, leaning against the counter. "I'm taking Sarah to her apartment today. Her and Viper."
Now Ghost looks up, his haunted eyes piercing through me. "Smart?"
"Necessary," I counter. "She needs her things."
"She needs to be alive," he says flatly.
"Which is why Viper and I are going with her." I take a long sip of coffee. "We'll be quick. In and out."
Ghost returns to his gun. "Reaper told me. Your kid, your call."
My kid. My responsibility. My blood.
"Speaking of," I say, setting down my mug, "I should check on her."
Ghost nods, already absorbed back in his task. I grab a second mug and fill it. Milk, no sugar, the way she took it that night at the diner, and head upstairs.
I pause outside my door, suddenly unsure of the protocol. Do I knock? It's my room, but she's sleeping there. Is she even awake? What if she's changing?
Settling on a light tap, I call out softly, "Sarah? You up?"
"Yes, come in," her voice answers.
I push the door open to find her sitting cross-legged on my bed, already dressed in yesterday's rumpled pink dress, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looks tired but calm, more composed than I would expect after everything that's happened.
"Brought you coffee," I say, holding out the mug. "Though, uh, I'm not sure if you can have caffeine. With the..." I gesture vaguely toward her belly.
A small smile touches her lips as she accepts the mug. "A little is fine. Thank you."
I hover awkwardly by the door, suddenly aware that this is the first time we've been alone together since our conversation last night. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I expected." She takes a sip of coffee. "You?"
"Fine," I lie. No need to tell her about the cramped cot or the nightmares that kept startling me awake. Visions of Sarah caught in crossfire, of a child I've never met crying for protection I couldn't provide.
She looks at me over the rim of her mug, those perceptive hazel eyes seeing more than I'd like. "You look tired."
"It's been a long couple of days."
"For everyone," she agrees. Setting down her mug, she straightens her shoulders. "So, about going to my apartment..."
"After breakfast," I say. "Viper's coming with us. We'll take my truck, not the bikes."
"Thank you. For not fighting me on this."
I shrug, trying to play it casual even though the thought of taking her outside the clubhouse's safety makes my stomach knot with anxiety. "You were right. Some things you need to handle yourself."
She seems surprised. "Really? Just like that?"
"I'm stubborn, not stupid." I lean against the doorframe. "Besides, Reaper would kick my ass if I tried to keep you prisoner here."
At the mention of Reaper, her eyes widen. "I talked to him last night. He's... not what I expected."
"How so?"
"He seems more like a father than an outlaw biker president." She pulls her knees to her chest. "He told me about his daughter."
"Emma," I nod. "Smart girl. Too smart for her own good sometimes."
"He also told me about you." Her eyes meet mine directly. "Said you were a good man."
"Reaper sees what he wants to see."
"Or maybe he sees what you don't." She holds my gaze steadily, challenging me in a way few people dare to.
I look away first, uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. "We should head downstairs. Get some food in you before we go."
Downstairs, the clubhouse is coming to life. Blade and one of the prospects are in the kitchen making breakfast—a tradition after any major club action. The smell of bacon and coffee fills the air.
"Morning, Ace," Blade calls, flipping pancakes. "And good morning, Miss..."
"Sarah," she supplies, offering a small smile. "Just Sarah is fine."
Blade nods. "Breakfast will be ready in five. Take a seat."
I guide Sarah to the large table where several brothers are already gathering. Viper raises an eyebrow when he sees us but shifts to make room. I notice he's cleaned up since yesterday. Fresh clothes, hair pulled back neatly, even his beard looks trimmed.
"Feeling good?" he asks Sarah, his gruff voice gentler than usual.
"Yes, thank you," she replies, then adds, "And thank you for being willing to come with us today."
"No problem."
Reaper enters the room, his commanding presence drawing everyone's attention. His eyes find Sarah immediately, a small nod acknowledging her presence at our table.
"After breakfast," he announces, "church. Full table."
Church—our term for official club meetings. The fact that he's calling everyone means it's serious. Likely planning our response to yesterday's attack.
Sarah leans toward me. "Church?" she whispers.
"Club meeting," I explain quietly. "Won't take long."
Breakfast is a subdued affair compared to our usual rowdy meals. The brothers are respectful of Sarah's presence, toning down their usual crude jokes and war stories. She eats sparingly. A few bites of pancake, a piece of toast, but seems more at ease than she was yesterday.
When the meal is finished, Sarah offers to help clean up, but Reaper waves her off. "The prospects handle that. Ace, a word before church?"
I follow him to his office, curious about what he wants to discuss privately.
"You sure about taking her to the apartment today?" he asks once the door is closed.
"No," I admit. "But she needs this."
"And you need her to trust you," he adds.
I shrug, not denying it. "We'll be careful. Viper's coming, too."
"You care about her. Not just because of the baby."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "I barely know her."
"But?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "But yeah, there's something about her. Something... good. Too good for someone like me."
"You sell yourself short, Ace." Reaper leans against his desk. "Always have."
"I know exactly what I am," I counter. "What I've done."
"And what's that?" he challenges.
I gesture vaguely. "Violence. Chaos. I'm my father's son, Reap. You know my old man was a piece of shit who'd hurt anyone who crossed him. That blood runs in me."
"Bullshit." Reaper's voice is sharp. "You've had every opportunity to become your father, and you've chosen differently every time. You channel your violence to protect, not to destroy."
I want to believe him. I want to believe I'm more than just a product of bad genetics and worse upbringing. But the doubt is always there, whispering in the back of my mind. What if I can't be what Sarah needs? What if I can't be what a child needs?
"Just be careful today," Reaper adds. "Not just for the club, but for yourself. For what you're building with her."
"I don't know what I'm building with her," I admit. "But I'm curious to find out. And that's... that's something I never thought I'd say about any woman."
Reaper chuckles, his expression softening slightly. "Don't break her heart, Ace. Women like that. Good women who still see the best in men like us… They're rare. Too rare to waste."
"I won't," I promise, the words coming easier than I expected. "She's worth... everything."
The realization hits me as I say it. Sarah, with her kind eyes and fierce protectiveness, is worth far more than I ever thought I'd deserve.
A knowing smile crosses Reaper's face. "Good. Now call everyone in. It's time to plan."
I step out and signal to the brothers scattered throughout the clubhouse. "Church! Now!"
They file into the chapel. Our meeting room with the large wooden table carved with our club's emblem.
I take my usual seat near the middle as Reaper settles at the head of the table.
The door closes behind us, sealing us in for club business.
The only ones absent are Evelyn and Sarah, civilians not privy to official meetings.
Reaper's gaze sweeps over us, landing on Wilder. "Where's Emma?"
"At my place in town," Wilder answers, his voice steady despite the tension visible in his shoulders. "No one will find her there. Left her a gun, just in case."
Reaper nods, though I can see he's not entirely satisfied. "Still not a fan of her being away from the clubhouse, but I understand she needs space from this life."
The strain between father and daughter is an open secret in the club. Emma resents the outlaw lifestyle that kept Reaper distant during her childhood.
Leaning forward, Reaper places both palms flat on the table. "Fun's over, brothers. Charles has pushed his luck too far." His voice hardens with each word. "The Vultures MC have attacked this clubhouse twice and my daughter once. Meanwhile, we've hit them back twice."
Ghost nods. "Time to even the score."