Wild Aces (2 page)

“Take this.” She handed some of it to me. “Go get yourself some clean clothes and something warm to eat.”

I stared at it while she held it between her fingers. I wasn’t sure what to do. No one had ever given me anything before, especially not money and definitely not kindness like this.

“Take it,” she insisted.

“Don’t you need it for yourself or your own kids or something?”

“I made some extra tonight. The players were tipping real good, so don’t you worry about me and what I need. I want you to have it.” She dropped it in my hand and closed my fingers around it. The bus drove up before she pulled her hand away. “You take care of yourself, honey. Don’t stay out here too late, you hear?”

I nodded and watched her get on the bus. She walked to a seat as the door closed, and she looked at me through the window as it drove away. The money was still in my hand, heavy like the wet socks weighing down my feet. I didn’t know how much was there, but I knew it was at least enough to get me a cheeseburger, a soda, alcohol, and Band-Aids so that I could wash out my cuts before they got infected. And maybe there would be some left over to get me somewhere good to sleep.

A place without screaming and cursing.

Without punching and kicking.

A place where I would finally feel safe.

Brea

All the masks in the glass case were sexy. They were sensual little strips of fabric covered in bits of lace and satin. Some had feathers, most had glitter, and a few even had sequins. One of them would soon cover my face.

“It’s a hard choice,” Frankie said, standing next to me as she eyed each row. “I love them all really.”

There was one that was just a little more enticing and a little more mysterious than the others. It had a splash of silver glitter around each eye slit, an overlay of black lace across the sides, and a rippled satin on the cheeks. It would look fantastic with the sparkly heels I planned on wearing.

“That one,” I said, tapping my finger against the glass and raising my eyes to the salesclerk. “It’s perfect.”

“Excellent choice,” he said. He looked at Frankie. “And for you?”

“Oh God…I just don’t
—
”

“She’ll take that one,” I said, pointing to the mask in the far left corner.

When it came to anything outside of work, my best friend was the most indecisive person I knew. She was also technically my boss. Although, now that I’d been promoted to running the leasing division at her real estate agency, I worked
with
her more than
for
her.

“That one?” Frankie asked. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. Doesn’t it remind you of something?”

It was a red mask, crossed with thin black-and-white stripes, and the only one that looked anything like flannel—her husband’s trademark fabric. I’d never seen him in any other kind of shirt, except at their wedding, and even then, he’d had a piece of flannel made into a pocket square.

She looked at it again, the recognition filling her eyes. “She’s right,” Frankie said. “I’ll take it.”

We followed the salesclerk to the register and handed him our credit cards.

“I can’t believe Derek agreed to a masquerade party,” I said. “I honestly thought your husband was going to push for a lumberjack theme.”

Frankie tilted her head back and laughed. “Very funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

“So, he likes flannels, and he likes to tie those flannels around my wrists while he fucks me senseless. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Oooooh God…neither do I,” the clerk said. “Does he have a brother?”

I held up my ring finger; it was bare. “I would’ve already married him if he did.”

Frankie laughed again and grabbed our bags. “As much as I’ve grown to love his flannels, I draw the line when it comes to the theme of our first party.”

Who could blame her for loving those ugly shirts? If someone as good-looking as her husband were tying one around my wrists, I’d let him wear it, too. Because, in my world, there definitely wasn’t enough wrist-tying going on. Actually, there was none at all.

“You did good on the masquerade theme,” I said. “It’s dark and mysterious, and now that we have masks to go with the dresses we bought this morning, I think we deserve some wine.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Hoping?” I took my bag from her hand. “Do you know me?
At all
?”

“It’s noon,” she said. “And it’s Tuesday.”

“I’m not the old married woman; that’s you.” I winked to ease the sting. “Wine is still very much a part of my Tuesdays.”

I could tell by her smile that her mind was drifting somewhere.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re thinking of the wine Derek probably poured all over your body and how his beard tickled your skin as he lapped it all up and the incredible sex that came after the beard-tickling wine-licking.”

“Well…there was that, yes. But you have no idea what happened next—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

She wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me toward her as we walked out of the shop. “What’s happened to you? You used to want to hear all the details, especially the extra naughty ones.”

I shrugged. “I’ve hit a dry spell.”

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her expression now serious. I knew that look, and I knew where this was going and that we would be standing in this same spot until she said everything she needed to. It was way too cold outside for this. I tied my coat a little tighter while I waited for her to say his name, and I thought of the warm bar and the glass of pinot noir I would be ordering.

“Would that have anything to do with the upcoming anniversary?” she asked.

And there it was.

It was only a few months until the two-year anniversary of Cody’s death. It had taken me a year to start dating again, and even then I hadn’t found anyone I was all that interested in. Cody Lee was who I wanted to be with—his voice in my ears, his touch on my skin, his love in my heart. I knew I would never fully heal from a loss that deep, that shattering. But things had finally begun to lighten a little, and I was dating…if that was what you wanted to call it. And Cody wasn’t the only reason I was holding back.

“Maybe a little,” I admitted. “But the truth is, I’ve had some really great cock over the last several months—world-class, state-of-the-art, perfect-in-every-way-possible cock. But the personalities of the men who own them? They’re the worst. Just because a man has a perfect cock doesn’t mean he’s allowed to be a dick. So, that’s it. I’m done with dicks.”

“So, you’re saying you’re into women now?”

“No. I’m saying I don’t want just a perfect cock anymore. I want a perfect cock with a good man attached to it. And frankly, I don’t think that’s asking for too much.”

“If I had a glass of wine, I’d toast you right now.”

I reached for her hand and laughed. As funny as this moment was, it was equally serious.

“I know a man like that exists because of Derek. I give you a lot of shit about his flannels, but he’s so perfect for you.”

And God, didn’t Frankie deserve him. She’d gone through hell with Reed, her ex—not only was he a cheating asshole, but his hands had also pushed her, and that push had caused a miscarriage. Derek found her when she needed him the most.

She tucked a chunk of hair behind my ear. “I’ve kept you so busy the last six months. You’ve helped me plan my wedding, you were my maid of honor, and you had to learn the whole leasing side of Jordan International. Things are just starting to calm down, and now, we’re so close to Cody’s anniversary. I just want to make sure—”

“I’m fine,” I said before she could say it.

But when I took a deep breath, a memory came into my head. His face…his soothing voice…

He rubbed his knuckles across my cheek, capturing each tear that fell. “Stop worrying, baby. You’ve worked yourself all up, and there’s no reason for it.”

“Cody, I can’t help it. I just worry about you. Nonstop. And now, this has happened…”

“Let me do all the worrying, and you do all the smiling.”

I only grinned because it looked like he needed it. We both did.

“That’s it. Just like that. That’s what I want you to show the world, Brea—just how gorgeous your smile is.”

The tears had stopped, but the knot in my throat hadn’t shrunk at all. “You told me you would never get hurt.” I looked down at his hand that had just been wrapped in a cast and the paper bracelet on his other wrist that listed his name, his date of birth, and the name of the hospital. “And you told me you would never leave me. Both of those almost happened tonight.”

“But it didn’t happen. I’m fine.”

“You have a broken—”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, pulling me onto the hospital bed.

He tucked me under his good arm and pressed my face to his chest. I felt his lips on the top of my head.

“Are you trying to kill me? Because if the worry doesn’t kill me, getting another phone call like the one I got tonight definitely will.”

“No, Brea. I’m trying to love you with everything I have.”

“I’m happy you’re fine,” Frankie said, bringing me back to our conversation. “But if you’re not, it’s okay to tell me. We’ll figure out how to make you better—together.”

Better—I was that, yes. But I also knew I hid things under a fine layer of sarcasm. And it cracked sometimes when she pushed, so I became an expert at changing the subject.

“The bar can help with that,” I said. “We can start by going on Monday nights. And maybe Wednesdays, too.”

Her face tilted as she tried to read me.

“Or I can bring the wine to your house every night, so we can wear sweatpants and eat ice cream at the same time.”

“Brea…”

“I promise, I’m okay.” I waited for her to smile before adding, “Besides, my ass doesn’t need the ice cream.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I would kill for your ass. Now, get over here.”

She pulled me in for one of her death-grip hugs, one that didn’t mess up my hair or push her boobs against mine. What did happen was love, lots of it, pouring from her body as she squeezed me. No one hugged me like Frankie.

Not even Cody.

“I’m
freeeeezing
,” I said, feeling her shiver as hard as me. “We need warmth.”

“And wine.”

I pulled away and looped my arm through hers. “I’m so happy you said that.”

Trapper

“You know that prick Baylor is going to be in the tournament, too,” Roman said, looking me over from the other side of his desk.

He was trying to read my face for a reaction. I didn’t give him one. He cared about Baylor more than I did.

I pushed back in my chair, crossing a boot over my thigh. The coffee I was holding was so goddamn hot that it was burning my fingers. “Yeah, I heard.”

“You’ve got nothing to sweat. That kid’s all bluff and no bang. Haven’t seen him get a high pocket pair since the tourney in Connecticut last year. He bought his way into the Vegas one. Couldn’t even get a satellite seat.”

I wasn’t worried about Baylor winning the poker tournament or anyone else I’d be playing against in Vegas. Didn’t matter if I told Roman that; he’d still ramble on about each of the high-ranked players and their styles and betting averages. I knew the stats. I’d played most of them before. And I’d won. That was just Roman’s thing—recap, prep, recap some more. With him being my mentor and the owner of Aced, the underground poker room I’d been playing at since I was twelve, I expected it.

“He’s been known to get lucky on the river, but—”

“Roman, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re right, kid. I just…” His office line rang, and he ignored it. “So, tell me what’s happening at the compound. Things all good there? By the size of that coffee, I’d say you’ve had yourself a hell of a long day.”

“These long days and late nights are killing me.” The coffee burned my tongue before I swallowed, jolting me awake. “But, yeah, the compound is running the way it should be.”

“That Adrianna really keeps things tight over there,” he said, referring to the woman I employed to run the daily operations at the compound and the importing and exporting side of the business—a business that took as much of my time and was as important to me as poker.