Page 178 of The Fire We Make

Without thinking, she approached, feeling like a kid in a candy store as she surveyed all of Ace’s toys. She hadn’t had access to an arsenal like this since she left home and just the sight of deadly metal and feel of bullets in her hand put her at ease.

“Take whatever you need, baby,” Ace urged, placing a kiss on her cheek from behind her.

Joy turned, meeting his lips with a lingering kiss of her own before turning back to his stash.

While she browsed, Ace called Remy, getting the intel he needed on Cleve and putting him on standby for any tech needs.

“What you got going on, Ace?” Remy chuckled while he tapped away at his computer.

Ace looked over at Joy who was strapping her desert eagle to one thigh and a thin machete to the other. “Just helping my baby take care of her business,” he said with a smile.

Once he had what he needed from Remy, Ace shed his own towel and began getting dressed. In his boxers, he stood beside Joy picking out his own gear for their field trip.

They moved around each other in sync, pulling weapons from the wall for themselves and helping the other strap up.

Chapter Forty

“Whose jet is this?” Joy asked as they pulled up to the private air strip. A sleek black jet waited for them as Ray parked them beside it.

“Mine,” Ace said.

Joy’s eyes snapped to him. She knew the Kings had money but she didn’t think they had private jet money.

“You have a jet?” Joy balked.

“Yeah how else would we fly?” Ace shrugged. He slid out, waving Ray off and opening Joy’s door himself.

Joy scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. “How rich are y’all?”

“I think we hit a billion a few years ago,” he answered casually as he helped her out of the car.

Joy blinked. “Billion. With a ‘B’…”

Ace chuckled. “Yeah baby, with a ‘B’.”

Joy released a harsh breath. “Damn.”

Ace guided her up the plane stairs and they were greeted by the pilot.

“Good evening, Mr. King,” he said

“Evening Ernest.”

“Ms. Thibodeaux,” Ernest tipped his hat in greeting.

“Hello,” Joy smiled.

“Conditions are favorable tonight so we should land in Houston in three and a half hours,” Ernest informed them.

Ace looked over at Joy, bathed in the darkness of night but illuminated by the full moon and the flickering street light above them.

They stood together, leaning against the hood of the car that was waiting for them at the airstrip, in front of the warehouse on the south side of Houston that housed the Cartel’s regional product.

Ace smiled, seeing that they were dressed similarly. They donned the same black tactical pants and black long-sleeved shirt—a choice that Ace regretted in the summer heat of Texas—with bulletproof vests on top.

While Ace wore black Timbs on his feet, Joy wore high heeled combat boots.

“He’s in there?” Joy asked, turning to Ace for confirmation. Ace pulled his attention from her to look down at his phone, then nodded.