“I used to know a guy who wore the ears of his enemies on a necklace.”
“Ace, I don’t want afinger necklace! Can’t you just be a bit more normal? God, you’ve got so many great qualities, but then you bring me fingers as a gift.”
For some reason, despite how macabre it is, despite how gross it is, and everything that’s happened to me, or maybe because of it, I start laughing. The more I laugh, the more I can’t stop. I laugh until my sides ache, and my eyes are filled with tears.
Ace watches me like I’m an unexploded bomb, all wary and unsure.
When the laughter finally trails off into small fits of giggles, I wipe my eyes. “Ace, can you pick up those fingers and put them back in the box? I’d rather not keep them, if you’re not offended, but it turned out to be a great gift.”
“It did?” He chews on his bottom lip.
“I think I needed that mad outburst of laughter. I feel as if some of the tension has left me, so thank you… but next time, just get me perfume.”
“That’s far too little for a woman like you,” he says softly as he crawls about picking up the fingers and carefully placing them back in the box.
“Diamonds, then,” I say airily. I smile. “I’m only joking. I don’t need gifts, Ace. Only your company.”
Ace puts the fingers away in a cupboard, to take home with him when he leaves, and thoroughly washes his hands at my request. Then he wanders back into the living room, sheepish, glancing around as if unsure where to sit.
“Come here.” I pat the couch next to me. “Come snuggle with me, my knight in shining armor.”
“Really?”
“Do I need to ask twice?”
He rushes over to me, his face all eager like a kicked puppy that’s been given love again.
Oh, Ace, what am I going to do with you?
20
JACK
The meetingwith Ghost and Rook is tense. Rook understands the seriousness of what he did. He went against my orders and put himself and Camile in great danger. But he also, probably, saved her from a worse fate. The kid looks so beaten up by his own conscience that I’m not sure how any punishment will help. He can’t just be allowed to get away with it, though, because that sets a shitty example.
We’ve discussed how he went directly against orders, and we’ve also covered his bad habit of listening in to conversations that are way above his paygrade. Both of which should really result in him no longer being allowed to prospect. The thing that’s stopping me from kicking him out, other than his big, kicked-puppy eyes giving me guilt, is Camile. She’ll never forgive me, and I think she genuinely needs him, which leaves me in a bit of a conundrum.
I’m contemplating how to address what went on in that outbuilding between the two of them.
This is me back in my comfort zone. My men, I can deal with. A traumatized girl, not much older than my daughter, I most definitely cannot. Especially not when even looking at her makes me sick to my stomach with guilt. I blame myself—who else is there to blame? I’m the club President, and the buck stops with me, ultimately.
Since we got her back, I’ve been trying to keep Camile at arm’s length because the way I feel when I’m around her terrifies me. I want to take her and make her mine so bad it aches, but I can’t do that. For so many fucking reasons, not least of which is the fact she’s been hurt.
I sip at the scotch in the heavy tumbler on my desk. Ghost is nursing a beer, and Rook has a vodka, neat. The guy looks like he needs an entire bottle of the stuff. When he takes a drink, I don’t miss the subtle shake of his hand.
“We know what you did to Camile.” Ghost just puts it out there, saving me the task.
“What do you mean?” Rook’s already pale face turns deathly white.
“Ledger told us. He says you fucked her in the ass in front of all those men.”
To my shock, Rook’s eyes fill with tears. One rolls down his cheek as he sniffs, swiping at it angrily. “Maybe you ought to kill me.”
For a moment, I think he’s saying it half-jokingly but then I realize he’s deadly serious.
He sniffs. “I don’t want to live with this fucking guilt eating at me.”
“From what I understand, you had little choice,” Ghost states.
