Chapter 51
Ace
Fuck, I feel good.
God, I feel like such an asshole for leaving that poor girl in there. She was so battered and broken, her hair a tangled mess. But there is a small measure of solace in knowing her body is covered, her hands are free, and she’s now just awaiting her escape.
Now, to find Booker. Descending the spiral staircase, the silence of the mansion becomes obvious. It feels far too empty. As I reach the landing, Cisco is already rising from a chair in the room where we waited earlier.
“Ah, my man,” he says, moving toward me. “How’d it go? Submissive little slut, isn’t she?” He nudges his elbow into my arm, a conspiratorial grin on his face.
Fuck you, you sick piece of shit. I can’t wait to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.
“Yeah, man. She just laid there and took it like she couldn’t get enough,” I manage to say around the bile rising in my throat.
“You should have seen her when we first brought her in. We had her all tied up and shit in the car. That bitch fought like hell until I sunk my cock inside her sweet pussy and then—” He swipes a hand through the air. “Nothing.”
“Wow.” I keep my expression flat, begging my face not to give away the pure loathing underneath.
“I know it.” He laughs. “It’s like, I tamed her with my dick, you know?”
“Yeah, man. Definitely.” I look around the room, needing to be anywhere but in this conversation. “Um, where is Booker?”
“Ah, I’ll take you to them. They’re on the far side of the house in the billiard room. Follow me.”
He leads us down a wide walkway with a series of impressive rooms. We pass a kitchen even Martha Stewart would be jealous of, a large conference-style room, a movie theater, and a fully stocked home gym. Judging by the physiques of Diesel and his men, that gym is only for show.
We step through the last door on the right, and the room opens up into a full-on bar. It’s got everything: a stripper pole, pool tables, a jukebox, shuffleboard, and a long oak bar top. Booker and Diesel are perched on barstools while a man behind the bar pours them each a drink.
“Josh, nice to see you again. I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Diesel says.
Remembering my name is Josh to him, I casually take a seat next to Booker before responding.
“Yeah. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m just glad Booker showed me where to find you.”
Not for the reasons you think, though.
“Well.” Diesel pauses, taking a slow sip of his drink. “You’re welcome anytime. Be sure to get my number from Booker so you can reach me whenever you feel the itch.”
I clap my hand down hard on Booker’s shoulder and give him a little shake. “Absolutely. I’ll be sure to do that.”
Cisco takes a seat beside Diesel and looks to be cleaning white lines off the table with his face.
The size of Booker’s pupils and the wired look in his eyes tells me Cisco isn’t the only one hitting the slopes today.
It isn’t even noon yet, and these guys are already fucked up.
They clearly take the “five-o’clock-somewhere” saying seriously.
Resting an elbow on the bar, I take a casual stance on my barstool. “On that subject, how many girls do I get to choose from? You know, for when I come back?”
A proud look crosses over Diesel’s face. “We currently have eight girls, and it should be up to a dozen soon. I can promise you’ll always have a variety of pussy around here.”
Satisfaction fills my soul because he doesn’t know that after today, he won’t be able to uphold that promise.
“Good to know, man,” I tell him before turning my attention to Booker.
“You almost ready to bail, man? I gotta get back soon,” I say, noticing he’s looking way too comfortable. We need to get the fuck out of here.
“Aw, why the rush? Have a drink on me. Your work can’t hold that against you. Can they?” Diesel asks, a too-wide grin pulling at his lips.
A humorless chuckle escapes me. “No. I guess you’re right there.” I look to the man behind the bar, dressed like fuckin’ Alfred minus the silver serving tray. “I’ll have whatever you got on tap.”
Diesel slaps his hand down hard on the bar top. “Fuck, I feel good!” he says excitedly. “Hector! Shots of Don Julio 1942 all around. I want to celebrate.”
Booker lets out a loud whoop, unable to stay still in his seat. They both look like they’re flying high, but the clock is ticking. We need to go.
Holding up his glass, Diesel catches my eye. “To new friends.”
I nod at him like we’ve just created a friendship, tapping my glass to his in a cheers and then hitting it against the bar top for good luck.
I could use every bit of it today. Just as the shot goes back, movement catches the corner of my eye.
Through the open door of the billiard room, a shadow flashes across the hallway.
Looks like the Prez won’t be waiting for us to come to him. He’s come to us.