CHAPTER TEN | ACE
I knew that I had fucked up bad as soon as soon as I opened my eyes.
The demoralizing glare of the morning sun poured in, lighting up every corner of the hotel room… and every piece of evidence from last night: torn off clothes, empty booze bottles, condom wrappers.
Even the air was heavy with the smell of whiskey and sex.
And then there was the strawberry blonde, naked and fast asleep by my side.
Fuck.
I stuffed my face into the palm of my hands, trying to remember what had happened last night. It was all a blur, lost in the fog of my hangover. I was rubbing my palms against my eyelids when I felt something cold scratch my brow. I lowered my hands and my heart sunk when I saw the silver band on my ring finger.
I immediately remembered everything: the bar, the girl, all those fucking shots of Jack Daniels, the wedding with Drunk Elvis…
I remembered what happened after the wedding, too. I glanced down at the woman snoring softly by my side.
Agent Sienna O’Malley. Of course I remembered her name. How could I not? According to the state of Nevada, she was legally my wife.
I rolled out of the bed. I knew I had a lot of shit to shovel my way through, but the first order of business was finding some clothes to wear. And the rented tux that was crumpled on the floor wasn’t gonna cut it.
I guess I’ll have to call in a favor.
I found my phone on the dresser and I flicked my thumb over the screen as I scrolled through my contacts list. Every member of the High Rollers owed me a favor for one thing or another… it was just a matter of figuring out who I could trust with this particular errand.
Finally I selected Rook’s name from the list and I hammered out a quick text. I was just about to send it when I heard Sienna grunt softly from the bed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that she was just rolling around in her sleep.
My eyes roamed from her, to the pile of torn white lace on the floor, and then back to my phone.
I added another request to my text message, then I hit send.
Within seconds, a response flashed across the screen.
Got it. On my way.
“That was easy,” I muttered to myself. I clicked off the phone and dropped it on the dresser.
I knew that I had at least twenty minutes to kill before Rook showed up, and I couldn’t do much until then. So I decided to take a shower.
The steamy hot water felt like magic. Every inch of my body felt sore or strained from my head to my dick. I was actually impressed that my cock was still attached to me after the job it had done last night.
I stayed in the shower too long, and by the time I stepped out onto the marble floor and toweled off, I heard my cell buzzing from the other room. It was Rook. He was waiting for me in the hotel lobby.
I had no choice but to slip on last night’s suit. It was either that or go down in my towel. I pulled on pants and white shirt, then I took the elevator down to the ground floor.
I found Rook sprawled out on one of the couches in the hotel lobby. He wore torn jeans and a leather vest and had one leg crossed over his knee. He had grabbed a complimentary issue of Cosmopolitan magazine from the coffee table, and he was flipping through it while he waited for me.
“Rook!”
His head shot up, and his eyes widened when he saw me. First he looked shocked, then he chuckled in understanding.
“So that’s what this is all about.” He shook his head in amusement as he eyed my suit.
“It’s a long story,” I sighed. “Did you bring what I asked for?”
“It’s all in the bag,” he confirmed, passing me a paper grocery bag that was clamped shut at the top. “Jeans, t-shirt, vest…”
“What about the rest of it?” I asked. “Did you pack a second t-shirt and a pair of shorts?”
“Yeah,” Rook said, then his brow wrinkled. “But I’m confused. I mean, I understand that the outfit is for you… but who is the other stuff for?”
“Nobody,” I snapped firmly. “I just wanted options.”
Rook looked skeptical, so I quickly changed the subject by nodding at the issue of Cosmopolitan draped across his knee. The magazine was spread open to some saucy sex article.
“Ten ways to blow his mind with an ice cube, huh?” I read aloud, peering down at the zine.
“Hey, this is good stuff,” he grinned shamelessly, tapping a knuckle on the article he was reading. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!”
“Is there something you wanna tell me, Rook?” I teased, raising an eyebrow. The joke went straight over his head:
“Yeah, actually,” he nodded obliviously. “The next girl I meet better have an icemaker.”
I shook my head and chuckled. Every deck of cards needed a joker or two, and Bingo and Rook happened to be the Jacks in our pack. That comedic relief was something I desperately needed today, and I was glad that I had picked Rook to run by my house and pick up a fresh change of clothes.
“Well I guess I should let you get back to your reading,” I offered Rook a fake salute, then I turned on my heel. Instead of taking the elevator back up to our room, I made a pitstop in the lobby restroom. I needed to get out of the wool pants and dress shirt, pronto.
Stepping back into a pair of denim jeans felt like going home, and my outlook on the day ahead immediately improved. I shoved the suit pants and shirt into the paper bag.
I had one more stop to make before I went back to Room 1605: the espresso bar located on the opposite side of the hotel lobby.
The bar had a long line of patrons, all bleary eyed and exhausted from whatever dirty deeds they had been up to the night before. When I finally got my turn at the counter, I ordered two black coffees— one for me, and one for the hot blonde agent that was about to get one very rude awakening.
I wasn’t sure how the new Mrs. took her coffee, so I jammed a handful of sugar packets and plastic creamer cups into my jeans pocket, then I carried the two paper cups of coffee back to the elevator.
I hadn’t been gone long, and I assumed that Sienna would still conked out in a puddle of drool when I got back to the room. But, on the off chance that Sleeping Beauty had woken up, I decided to give a courtesy knock before I let myself in.
I wasn’t expecting the strained response that came from the other side of the door:
“I’m not ready yet! Do you think you could come back in a few minutes?”
I froze, coffee cups balanced in one hand and key card in the other.
“I just need a few more minutes!” she shouted. “Five, maybe ten at the most, and then I’ll be gone!”
Gone? I don’t think so, Blondie. You’re not getting off that easy.
I swiped the key card over the electronic lock, then I kicked the door open with the toe of my boot. It swung open, and I was immediately greeted by a panicked Agent O’Malley.
My blushing bride was dressed in white… but she wasn’t wearing her lace wedding dress from last night. Now, she had fashioned herself a makeshift gown out of the bright white hotel bed sheets. “Morning After” couture, at its finest.
Her jaw sprung open like a nutcracker and she blinked at me for several seconds before she finally stammered:
“You’re not from housekeeping.”
I cocked my head.
“No, I’m not,” I said. “I’m your husband.”
Her jaw couldn’t drop any further than it already had, so she just kept on gawking at me. Then her eyes rolled back into her head and she sailed backwards, crashing onto the bed.
“Blondie?” I strode across the room and stepped over the bed.
She hadn’t fainted; just collapsed into a giant mountain of white bed sheets. She looked stunned, like reality finally sunk in.
“You’re my husband,” she murmured. “But… you’re a High Roller. I was supposed to be investigating you.”
“I know. That’s sort of what got this whole ball rolling—”
“I am so fucked!” she wailed, slamming her fists into the mattress. “I blew it! I am going to get fired. My reputation will be ruined. I’ll never find another job in my field—”
“Calm down,” I groaned, feeling my headache return. “I’m gonna fix this, okay?”
She ignored me and kept on rambling, her voice growing faster and more hysterical by the second:
“All those years of hard work… everything I’ve worked my ass off to accomplish… all just flushed down the drain in one stupid night!”
“Come on, Sienna. It’s not the end of the world—”
“Not the end of the world?!” She jolted upright on the bed, so she sat straight up. “That job is my life!”
“Oh yeah? Well when the club finds out that I married the agent in charge of taking us down, I could lose my life!” I snapped. “Dead. Six feet under. Let that sink in, Blondie.”
That shut her up. I forced myself to take a deep breath, then I remembered the paper cups of coffee that I was holding. I offered her one, then I tossed the handful of cream and sugar packets onto the bed.
“Besides,” I said calmly, “You haven’t lost your job yet, have you?”
“Not yet,” she mumbled, taking a cautious sip of coffee. “But I will once my boss finds out about this.”
“Then I’d stay step one is making sure your boss doesn’t find out.”
She glared at me over the plastic lid of her coffee cup.
“Ok. What’s step two?”
I pulled the paper bag out from under my arm and dropped it onto the bed.
“There are some clean clothes in there. Get dressed.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the chapel,” I said. “If they haven’t gotten around to filing our marriage documents with the state yet, we might have a chance to stop this before it goes any further.”
***
“Your marriage was recorded with the state of Nevada at 8 A.M. this morning!” the clerk at the Little White Wedding Chapel announced cheerily, grinning up at us through a pair of oversized heart-shaped glasses.
“What does that mean, exactly?” Sienna asked.
“That means that, in the eyes of the law, you are officially husband and wife!”
“So does that take effect immediately?” Sienna grimaced. “There’s no grace period or 30-day return policy?”
The clerk’s eyes widened behind the heart-shaped frames, and her mouth sunk into a nervous little ‘o.’ I quickly stepped in.
“I think what my wife is trying to ask is if there is any way of cancelling the marriage at this point?”
“Cancelling the marriage?”
“Yeah. You know… like undoing it,” Sienna corroborated.
“I’m afraid not,” the clerk shook her head. “Once a marriage goes on record with the state, there is no cancelling it. The only legal way to end the marriage would be with an annulment or divorce.”
Sienna and I exchanged disappointed glances.
“Is there anything else I can assist you with?” the clerk asked pointedly.
“Nope,” I sighed. “We just need to return the suit and dress that we rented last night.”
I dropped the paper bag on the desk in front of her. Inside was my crumpled up suit and the remains of Sienna’s lace dress.
“Thank you,” the clerk sneered, plucking the bag apprehensively between her forefinger and thumb as if it was contaminated.
Just wait until she sees what we did to the clothes, I thought to myself.
Amusing as it would have been, I had no intention of sticking around to see the clerk’s reaction. I strode out of the chapel, and Sienna followed behind.
I vaguely remembered driving us to the chapel the night before on my bike. Sure enough, the bike waited faithfully in the asphalt parking lot behind the chapel with a pair of helmets hanging from the handlebars.
I grabbed one of the helmets and passed it to Sienna.
She froze and her lips pressed together in a tight little line. She tried her hardest to look mean, but it wasn’t working. Not in her current state.
My old Indian Motorcycle t-shirt fit her like a dress, hanging a few inches above her knee caps and showing off her long, bare legs.
It wasn’t the t-shirt or legs that had me grinning, though. It was what she was hiding under my shirt.
Last night’s panties had been in no state to be worn again, and the shorts Rook had packed were too big for her to wear without waddling. The only option she had was to go commando.
Thinking about that little bare pussy of hers hiding just under the hem of my t-shirt made it impossible to keep a straight face… and thinking about her legs wrapped around my waist on the back of my bike was too damn hot to handle.
If she asked me nicely, I might have considered tossing her over the bike and hiking up that t-shirt right there in the parking lot. But I guess Sienna had her mind on other things.
“No way,” she shook her head. “I’m not getting on that thing.”
“What’s wrong, Blondie? It ain’t gonna bite.”
“No way.”
“You loved riding it last night…”
Her frown deepened and she crossed her arms.
“Last night was…” her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words. “That wasn’t me.”
I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I don’t do shit like this,” she said, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “I don’t go out. I don’t drink whiskey with strange men at bars. I don’t ride on Harleys or make out in the back of taxis…”
“Sounds like you need to get out more.”
“I’m boring!” she stammered, her voice picking up speed and intensity again. “I like routine and order. I’m good at my job. I’m quiet. I keep to myself. I hate attention—”
“That doesn’t sound like the girl who tried to knock down my shop door in a mini skirt.”
“But that wasn’t me!” she protested. “That was just a—”
“A character?” I finished for her, then shook my head. I chuckled softly and leaned back on the seat of my bike.
“You want to know what I think?” I asked. “I think you’re full of shit.”
Sienna gawked at me, shocked.
“I think you’re fucking terrified of who Sienna O’Malley might really be,” I went on. “I think the only time you feel safe is when you have some dumb costume to hide behind. Playing a character gives you an excuse to be human and have flaws. You can do all the things that scare you, because it’s not really you doing them; it’s someone else.”
“That’s not true—”
“Of course it is,” I cut her off. “It’s absolute bullshit, but it’s true. When you put on some silly disguise, you don’t have to worry about who Sienna O’Malley is anymore. You’re free. And I bet that’s the only time you really feel alive.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t even know me!”
“I don’t need to know you. It’s fucking obvious!” I glared back. “The fear, the doubt, the insecurity… it’s written all over your face!”
“Oh, so you’re an expert on reading people now? Is that one of your special biker skills?”
For some reason, that stung. I jerked back up onto my feet and stomped across the parking lot, closing the distance between us until we were inches apart.
“Maybe I’m different than you, and maybe you don’t understand my lifestyle,” I snarled. “But that doesn’t make me an idiot. And it sure as hell doesn’t give you the right to look down your nose at me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she sighed wearily. “I just… I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me right now, okay? That doesn’t help anything.”
“Well getting that stick out of your ass might help,” I grunted back. “As much as I hate to admit it, we need to work together. That’s the only way we’re gonna fix this mess.”
“No. The only way to fix this is to pretend it never happened.”
“That’s not an option anymore,” I said. “We’re married. And until that changes, that means we’re stuck in this together.”
“Don’t you get it, Ace?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “There is no we. That means you handle your business, and I’ll handle mine.”
She chucked the helmet back to me, then she turned and stormed away.
If I wasn’t just as stubborn as she was, I might have called after her. Instead, I pulled on my helmet and kick-started the engine.
I revved the throttle and screeched out of the parking lot, and I never once looked back.