Ace's Key: Book 1 Read online

  Ace’s Key

  Bad Boys ‘N Bars

  Book 1

  By Abbie St. Claire

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

  For information, contact [email protected]

  Dedicated to my own “Ace”…

  Chapter One

  Delayed

  Delayed

  Cancelled

  Delayed

  I was trying to fly out of Chicago and viewed the usual sights of the Flight Status Display Board. What did I expect; it was the first of December after all. Just my freakin’ luck. My head was roaring with pain, a fever bubbled through my body like hot lava, and my throat felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire when I tried to swallow.

  My phone was ringing, but the search to find it in my huge purse was a challenge, and of course, every seat was taken in the gate lounge, so I slid down the wall and parked myself on the icky carpet.

  “Hi, Jim,” I uttered into the phone with a raspy voice.

  “You sound worse. You need to get home and see a doctor.”

  “I’m at the airport, but all of the flights are delayed due to weather.” I really felt like biting the pansy-ass’s head off for sending me home early from the conference, so he could score accolades from my hard work, but I held back for sake of employment.

  “Where’s the key for the lockbox that holds the iPads in the booth?”

  Really? He’d lost it already?

  “Booth control closet, top drawer. Pink spiral key chain.”

  “Duh, the one place I didn’t look. It’s here. Hope you get home quickly and take the next few days to rest. Sounds like you need it.” The asshole hung up without so much as a thank you.

  He would’ve known where things were if he’d helped set up the trade-show booth, but of course, VPs don’t do manual labor, do they? His sole purpose of sending me home was so he could impress Rugger Sota, our new CEO at Dailey-Sarns Pharmaceutical Company with the new trade show booth I’d designed. Jim had had nothing to do with the project, other than handing it off to me. Sota had flown out to the Oncology meeting in Chicago with the intent of seeing our new marketing booth. But of course, due to an untimely sickness, my boss stood to score the credit, and he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

  “Mia Kennedy, please approach the podium,” the gate agent announced.

  “I’m Mia Kennedy.” I hoped my raspy voice didn’t scare her off.

  “We’ve moved you up to flight #10774 to Dallas, Ms. Kennedy, but you need to hurry. It’s leaving in ten minutes from gate A-17.”

  There I stood at gate C-31 with ten minutes to get to the A Concourse at Chicago-O’Hare. I think the airlines pulled this shit just to watch people scramble. There had to be a camera somewhere recording the frenzies that happened daily for some freak that had a funny-video-fetish. Seriously.

  Obviously, my luck wasn’t getting any better. I rushed, and running through the airport, plus my cough, left me winded as I approached the gate, but I made it just before the door was closed. At least my flying status came with a first-class upgrade. I took my seat and downed the adult beverage offered by the flight attendant before napping the rest of the way home to Dallas.

  I was grateful that my flight arrived mid-day; it allowed me the chance to grab some soup and get home before the typical Friday evening rush hour started.

  When I opened the garage door at my condo, I was shocked to see Connor’s car in the garage. He never got off early on Fridays.

  “Uh, hey babe. Why are you home?” he asked, taking my bags from me at the door.

  “I live here; at least, my name is on the lease.”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “You sound terrible. The flu?”

  “Probably. Haven’t you listened to any of my messages? I’m going to eat soup and go straight to bed.”

  “Hey, why don’t you lie down on the sofa. I’ll grab your pillow.” He rushed off with my bags and almost fell over them when the wheel caught the door casing.

  By the time he’d returned with my pillow and a blanket, I’d removed my coat and scarf and collapsed on the sofa.

  “Here, let me help you.” His behavior was way too accommodating, and he even removed my shoes.

  “You’re acting weird. Why are you home so early?”

  “Oh, I, um, I… I had this big report due, and the office held too many distractions, so I came home early.”

  “I appreciate the gesture, but I really just want to snuggle in bed and sleep off my cold medicine. Besides, you’re working.”

  I rose up to my feet and he quickly stood in front of me. “You can’t. I…um, I pulled the sheets off and haven’t made the bed back up.”

  I knew the medicine and the cold had me in an unfocused fog, but guilty behavior was just that…guilty. For starters, when does he ever change the sheets? And secondly, coming home to do a report when he has a huge corner office, an assistant, and a secretary to do just about everything?

  “What is going on here? I changed the sheets before I left on Wednesday. You can help me put another set on, then I’m going to bed.”

  I walked into the bedroom and noticed my bed looked stark without any linens or even a mattress pad. I turned around to ask more definitive questions just in time to see Connor hastily stuff something into his pocket.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Just some trash. I’ll go get the sheets.”

  “No, you’ll just get the truth out.” I placed my crossed arms firmly over my chest and sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed. I looked around the room and noticed nothing seemed to be like I left it. That was precisely when I noticed the bathroom door shut with the light on.

  I turned to look back at Connor, and his brown eyes widened as he quickly glanced to the door and back to me.

  Without any warning, I jumped up and barreled into the bathroom to find Laci, Connor’s assistant, sitting in my bathroom dressed, but with that just-been-fucked look.

  “Get out, both of you,” I ordered with my finger pointing the way to the front of the apartment.

  “Babe, it’s nothing. We just started drinking and got caught up in the moment. You know how it…”

  With what little energy I had left, I hit him with a right hook that painfully connected with his left eye, probably hurting me more than him, but at least it would leave a mark…one he would have to explain.

  “Your bitch is next if she’s still here when I count to ten. Get out.”

  Laci ran for the door without waiting for Connor. I’d never hit a person before, but appreciated the things I’d leaned in kick-boxing class. And to think, I’d only taken it to help lift up my sagging ass.

  Hours passed as I sat on the sofa with a bag of ice over my hand, staring out the window of my high-rise apartment at the Ashtons. The lights of the city at night were beautiful, but they claimed an audience. There was no joy in the view alone.

  My phone chirped with a text from Claire.

  Got a call from Connor. Call me!

  Sick with cold, in bed. Call u tomorrow

  B well. Love u baby

  Freakin’ dumbtard, I cursed Connor in my head. Trying to rally my friends in support wouldn’t resolve his issues. There were three things in life I couldn’t stand—lyin’, cheatin’, and stealin’—and he’d broke two of those rules at once.

&nb
sp; Chapter Two

  The next morning, I felt better after a night of rest from my Nyquil-induced coma, but the day brought the reality of having to deal with the aftermath of our break-up, and the issue I wasn’t ready for.

  “If you’re going to defend him, I’ll hang up,” I said, pouncing on Claire.

  “Not at all. If he was here, I’d punch him in the face,” Claire gritted out.

  “I did. I actually think he’s going to have a black eye.”

  “That’s so freakin’ awesome. Knowing that prissy little prick, he’ll probably cover it up with make-up.”

  We both giggled, and it felt great to laugh.

  I’d thought I loved Connor, but last night I decided my love for him was in that “friend” kind of way, and even though we’d been living together for three years, I suspected Connor and I were too comfortable. We enjoyed sports, hanging out, the same wine and food, but our sex life was boring.

  We only made love in the straight missionary position, and the only orgasms I ever had were with a vibrator, which I hid in my suitcase for trips. The rest of the time I should’ve won an Academy Award for my faux-gasms. Oral sex…well, you could just forget about that; he was raised to think that was dirty.

  What hot blooded American guy doesn’t want a blow-job? Not that I favored doing them, but I did love turning my guy on, and I craved to be turned on. Funny, when I tried to think about what Connor and I had, nothing exciting came to mind. Our life together was the ultimate of boring.

  “Mia, did I lose you?” Claire asked into my earpiece.

  “Only to my thoughts.”

  “Come hang out with us. Ashley and I are going over to Bluestone Barrel Room. That new place we’ve been watching is open now.”

  “Not tonight. I’ve got the concierge guy coming to bring me boxes for Connor’s stuff. I still have a few months on my lease, but he’s the one with a girlfriend, so he can find a new place.”

  “You need to come out with us. Let that scumbag box up his own shit.”

  “He left his key on the counter last night when he left. I don’t want him back here.”

  “Fine. I’ll text you the address anyway, in case you change your mind.”

  While packing up his things, I decided that most of the decor for the apartment I’d picked out and bought with my own money… It was staying. The only items that truly belonged to him were his clothes. I had those boxed and labeled for the storage downstairs. The photos of us I ripped to shreds and found it great therapy.

  With three cups of coffee down, thanks to my favorite Keurig, I had more energy than I’d had in days, and my cold symptoms had finally left me. I gave my apartment a thorough cleaning and decided Connor needed to take the bed with him. It just seemed used and…well…fitting. I didn’t want it any more. I wanted out with the old and in with the new.

  Concierge arrived and took all of Connor’s things, including the “cheating” bed I’d gifted him. Then I gave the concierge Connor’s credit card information for storage fees, and he, along with his meekly possessions, became part of my past.

  I walked to the garage to go out shopping. The day was mild for December, but the air was still fresh, and I felt like I was breathing it for the first time in a long time. My first stop was to the furniture store, where I purchased a new bed. It was more invigorating that one could imagine. My second stop was for fresh linens. With a new spunky attitude, I found everything I wanted and in lipstick red silk, my favorite color.

  I arrived back at the apartment to find the mattress delivery guys waiting on me. Man, they moved fast.

  “We have a delivery for Mia Kennedy?” the driver asked, with clipboard in hand.

  “Yep, that’s me. I’ll show you the freight elevator. I’m on the twenty-first floor.” I turned to take in a good look at the delivery guy behind me and noticed he was totally hot in the pumping-iron kind of way. I have some iron he could pump, I thought to myself.

  “You work with a trainer,” I asked him, while batting my eyes on our elevator ride up to my apartment.

  Hey, he didn’t have a ring, and what was wrong with moving on?

  “I’m a trainer,” he answered with a deep, southern accent. “You’re a runner, aren’t you?”

  I glanced down at my choice of running pants, shoes, and a North Face jacket, which gave that away. “I run and also started kickboxing recently.”

  “I’ll give you my card when we get upstairs. My gym is not too far. I also have private session slots, in case you’re interested.” His gaze caused my body to stir.

  I instantly felt my nipples pull tight, and the lace of my bra became abrasive against them. “Private sessions, huh? I’ll consider it.”

  I heard the other guy snicker behind me. I didn’t turn to look at him in the other corner, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was being played.

  With the new bed assembled and a business card on my nightstand to remind me my pussy wasn’t dead, I surfed the internet out of complete boredom and decided to put a profile on some of the dating sites for fun. Not something I’d done in the past because I’d always had men introduced to me by mutual friends, but I thought it might be fun to see who was out there. Before I realized it, I’d spent the better part of three hours plugging in information and filling out forms to sign up.

  Then the emails started coming in, one creepy request right after another.

  Hey babe, you’re hot and I know how to put out your fire.

  Do you like threesomes?

  Do you like anal?

  Really? I couldn’t delete the emails and my accounts fast enough. What fucking retard sends that crap to women? I couldn’t imagine it working for them, but it was a definite deal breaker for me.

  I was in the middle of deleting that shit from my phone when Ashley called.

  “You’re joining us tonight, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Not tonight, but next time for sure.”

  “You can’t stay cooped up feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “I’m not, really. Just can’t mix alcohol and cold medicine.”

  “Drink soda. C’mon. It won’t be the same without you. Besides, Claire kind of told Connor you were going out.”

  “Seriously? Fine, but only for a little while. Then I’m coming home, and you two maniacs can do your usual and close down the bar without me.”

  Chapter Three

  Bluestone Barrel Room wasn’t anything like I’d imagined. Five steps inside the huge wooden door, the roped off pathway led me down a spiral staircase all encased by stone carvings and highlighted in subtle blue lights. It was like a chamber and very mysterious. When I reached the actual bar on the lower level, I stood at the threshold of the stone staircase and admired the dark, intriguing ambience of the large room.

  The table and chairs were made from repurposed wine barrels, and there was a large crowd. Soft music played in the background, while I scanned the room for my girlfriends.

  As I looked around, I found room after room after room—large open spaces with small, intricate alcoves off in the corners. Each one delicately lit with the same blue lights as on the staircase. The dark stained concrete and the wooden ceiling made it sexy and inviting.

  “You look lost. May I help you?” The deep, accented voice was intoxicating and came from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sinfully Handsome over my right shoulder at the bar.

  I couldn’t have answered him if I’d tried. His tone full of sex appeal, he’d had me at “You”. I studied him as he uncorked a wine bottle and poured two glasses for the couple at the bar. As I watched him, I found myself curious if they taught Sexy Bartending in a school somewhere.

  He was gorgeous in every way—well over six feet tall with long, wavy dark hair and dark eyes. The tight black t-shirt he wore defined every beautiful muscle in his chest. Damn, he was one serious hard body.

  “Looking for someone special or just someone?” he asked.

  “Friends,” was all I could muster.
/>   He laughed. The tone of his low growling chuckle singed my skin. Even though he was a good four feet from me, I could’ve sworn I felt the heat of his breath on my bare shoulders. Instantly, I looked away to hide the flush of my cheeks and pulled my arms and purse up close to my chest to hide my hardened nipples. Aroused or ill?

  Damn, it had to be the fever returning to ruin the start of a great night.

  When I looked back at him, he’d moved around the end of the bar and was standing behind me.

  “Names or descriptions could be helpful. I have a couple of ladies waiting on someone named Mia. Is that you?”

  What a relief. He was a sexy-bartender/hunky-mind-reader all rolled into one. “Yes.” I nodded.

  “Nice to meet you, Mia. I’m Ace.” He extended his hand.

  “Likewise.” Finally, something came out of my mouth besides stammering. When I presented my hand to his, he gently gripped it and took it to his lips.

  Ace escorted me toward the back of the room. Along the way, we passed a small stage where a gentleman was playing the acoustic guitar, providing a soft and sultry background sound. Occasionally, Ace hummed along.

  We approached one of the alcoves to find Claire and Ashley deep in conversation over almost empty glasses of wine. When we stopped just short of the table, Ace stole the opportunity to slide his hand down and rested it at the small of my back. His sensual, masculine scent tickled my nose and elicited my sexual cravings. It felt wonderful to be aroused, and I couldn’t control the smile on my lips.

  “Yup, you found them. Thank you, Ace.”

  “Aha, Ace is it?” Claire asked in a teasing voice.

  “Yes. Can I get you ladies anything? Mia?” His hand was still resting in its place on my back.

  “Only water for me,” I answered softly. Who goes to a wine bar and orders water?

  He raised his brow in contest to my order, but didn’t say anything. Turning to my friends, he waited while Ashley mulled over the menu. After she and Claire got their acts together and found their voices to order, he softly touched my cheek.