Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ace didn’t knock when he got to Joy’s brownstone, unsure of what would greet him when he arrived.
Instead, he went around to the back door. He pulled his gun from where it was tucked in the back of his pants and shot the lock, the force making the door swing open on its hinges.
He entered the apartment, gun at his side but finger on the trigger as he maneuvered blindly through the dark and eerily quiet house. The old floor boards creaked under the weight of his heavy booted steps
Ace had never been inside Joy’s place. She’d always let him in just enough, but still kept him at arm’s length, preferring to come into his world but always keeping him just out of reach of hers.
Now, he understood why.
The faint sound of crackling from a distant part of the apartment drew him further and the soft glow of orange light beckoned to him.
He followed the light through the kitchen and down a short hall before being deposited at the entrance of the living room.
The fireplace was going, the flames dancing wildly but Ace’s attention was drawn to the figure in front of it.
Big hair. Curvy figure folded up with knees to chest.
One side of her was illuminated by the harsh warm light of the fireplace and the other side was cast in a soft, cool glow from the moon shining through the window.
Just like the night they met, Joy was completely still as she stared into the fire, her energy somber. She wore only a black slip, the crimson fabric of the dress she’d been wearing hours before lying folded at her feet.
Ace took a few tentative steps forward. His shoes announced his presence against the hardwood floors but she didn’t stir, seemingly in a trance.
It wasn't until he was right up on her did he see the blank expression in her gaze as the fire reflected off of her eyes, and tear streaked face.
“Joy,” Ace said softly.
Startled, Joy snapped out of her somber stupor and in one motion, pulled her desert eagle from the holster on her thigh, the safety coming off with a click as she aimed at him.
Ace already had his out and trained on her as well. He almost chuckled. He was sure the scene they made was comical. Just that morning, they’d woken up wrapped up in each other and now, they fixed each other with distrusting stares and the barrels of their guns.
He smirked. “That’s what we doing, Rose? We pulling guns on each other now?” he asked.
“We breaking into each other's houses now?” she retorted.
Ace chuckled darkly. “You injured three of my men.”
Joy stared back at him, her expression blank, her gun never wavering. “Those were yours?” she asked. “They need more training.” She said the taunt with a smirk.
Ace shook his head. His brain was on high alert, blaring that she was a threat. His body — and the organ in his chest he thought had long ago turned to ice — wasn’t repelled or concerned by the wicked smirk playing on her lips but was instead drawn closer.
“I’ll let HR know,” he leaned closer. “You and I need to talk.”
“About?”
Ace chuckled, his eyes catching on a stray speck of blood on her collarbone.
“Stop playing with me. We can have a civilized conversation, or I can forget about giving you the benefit of the doubt, and drag you out of here.”
Joy’s eyes narrowed. “I’d like to see you attempt that, seeing as though there’s a gun in your face.”
He kneeled on his haunches, leaning close until the barrel of her gun was pressed firmly into his chest.
“You would shoot me, Rose?” he asked. No fear passed through his heart or eyes.
“Test me and find out.”
Ace only grinned. His eyes trailed over her face, taking in her features from the pretty lips to the eyes that still managed to take his breath away.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, moving a curl out of her face.
His first thought when he saw her dressed up earlier that evening was that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Now, seeing her point a gun at him with promises of violence and fire in her eyes, he didn’t think she could get more beautiful.
“I need some answers, otherwise I’ma have to put a bullet in your pretty head and that would break my fucking heart.” He punctuated his threat with the barrel of his gun at her temple.
She stared at him unblinking. Unmoved.
“Talk to me, Rose,” he pleaded, his voice softening slightly, becoming tender for her, even now.
Slowly, she lowered the gun, placing it on the floor beside her with a thunk and Ace did the same.
Joy looked at him with glistening eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall. She blinked and a singular tear slid down her cheek that she didn’t bother wiping away.
Her eyes fell to the dress at her feet and gingerly picked it up.
“I couldn’t burn it,” she whispered like she was making a confession.
“The dress?” Ace asked.
She nodded.
“The night we met, I killed someone. Two people. When I got home, I had to burn the dress I wore to get rid of the DNA. I hesitated… because it smelled like you.”
Ace froze, his mind warring with both her confession and the realization that their brief encounter had impacted her the way it’d impacted him.
She lifted the dress, running her fingers over the fabric. “I should burn this one too, but I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Joy smiled wistfully at it. “The way you looked at me when I came downstairs in this… like I was the prettiest girl in the world. You’re the first man to ever look at me like that and after what you saw today… I don’t know if I’ll ever see that look again.”
Joy was silent as she turned her attention back to the fireplace. She pushed her knees up, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her cheek against her knees.
Ace’s heart clenched. “Joy,” he exhaled, her pain so tangible it made his own heart ache.
“I thought I could prove I was normal so I could go home,” she whispered. “But I just fucking can’t.”
She dropped the dress and pushed her fingers into her hair with a frustrated growl.
Ace slowly lowered beside her, abandoning his planned interrogation in favor of comforting her instead. As soon as he sat, Joy turned to him with eyes full of tears as she met his gaze.
“How is anyone gonna love me like this?” A few silent tears streamed down her face but that was the only physical sign of her emotion. Her expression was blank with resignation and her voice didn’t shake or crack.
She wasn’t shattering, she was numb, and Ace didn’t know which was worse.
Without thought, he pulled her into his arms, offering a comfort she hadn’t asked for but he knew she needed. Giving her the space to break if she so chose.
"My daddy was my favorite person in the world…” she started. “Even before my mom died, we were inseparable.
“He would take me to the gun range on the weekends when I was little. My mom hated it but it was our thing. At first, he’d just let me watch him blow off some steam.
Then, when he saw I was interested, we’d sit there after he was done and he’d teach me the anatomy of a gun while we cleaned them together.
He told me about his past life and how he used to run the city.
That he and Mel’s dad were building an empire but he gave it up, not wanting my mom to go through what Mel’s mom did. ”
She chuckled humorlessly. “He said I would’ve made the perfect heir, though. Even then, he said I had the best parts of him and the best parts of my mom blended together to make something powerful. Something both beautiful and dangerous.”
“How old were you?” Ace asked.
Joy heaved a deep sigh. “About eight.”
“Damn,” Ace cursed. He’d been only twelve or so himself when he’d gotten his infamous nickname but he couldn’t imagine someone looking at an eight year old girl and fantasizing about the weapon they’d turn her into.
Joy shrugged like it was nothing. “I guess I was showing signs, even then. I was always a little sad for no reason which made me cold, even as a child. Plus, I had my daddy’s temper.” She chuckled again and Ace couldn’t help but crack a smile too.
After a moment, all humor drained from her voice and her smile dropped. “After she died, my sadness became anger and somehow that made us closer and we clung to each other even more.”
Ace struggled to remain quiet as he worked to piece together the fragments she fed him but his curiosity got the best of him.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, his heart thumping in anticipation of what could have created the explosive assassin he witnessed earlier and the subsequent crumbling of that ferocity afterwards.
“After my mom died, it’s like nothing mattered to him anymore. He didn’t want the new life he’d built with her anymore, he wanted his old shit back and at ten, he started training me to take it.”
Joy turned her body to the side to rest her cheek against Ace’s chest. She sighed, snuggling deeper into him as if she thought she could nuzzle her way into his skin, seeking comfort and safety Ace had the feeling she’d never been given.
“The first time I had a meltdown, I was 13.”
She paused, gathering her words.
“It was small. Everyone wrote it off as teenage angst and my competitive nature. I did too but deep down something didn't feel right. I knew something felt off with me but I couldn't articulate what it was you know?”
She swallowed. Ace’s hand moved up and down her arm slowly.
“I knew normal 13 year old girls don’t give their debate partners black eyes for giving terrible answers during cross examination and then set the second place trophy on fire,” she huffed out a breath of laughter.
Ace pictured a fierce young Joy and couldn’t stop his own grin.
“Second place is just the first loser, Joy. This isn't a celebration, this is a learning experience...” she mocked her father’s deep voice. “Your team is only as strong as the weakest link.”
She shifted slightly and took a deep breath. Her jaw worked and lip trembled as she tried to keep going but her emotions rendered her silent.
Ace wrapped his arms around her tightly. “You don’t have to keep going,” he said.