CHAPTER FIFTEEN | SIENNA
“Good afternoon, Las Vegas! I sure hope you’re staying cool today on this sunny Thursday afternoon. The current temperature is a staggering 115 degrees, but that should cool down to a low of 104 later this evening. Forecasts show a similar high for tomorrow, but hold onto your hat; this weekend we may reach 120 degrees! As temperatures continue to spike, Clark County health officials are urging residents to remain indoors and stay hydrated. Water and heat relief stations are being set up throughout the city...”
The stiff voice a male news reporter chirped from the car radio, relaying the grizzly details of a massive heat wave that had swept through Las Vegas.
I didn’t need to listen to the weather forecast; signs of the heat were all around me.
My car idled under a traffic light, and the fierce white sun glared straight through my windshield. I had the A/C blasting on full strength, but it was no match for the solar rays that burned into my forearms. I felt like I was being slowly baked over a fire like a rotisserie chicken.
It didn’t help that my clothes were completely drenched in clammy, sticky sweat. I had worn a loose black sundress to stay cool, but the linen had cemented itself to my skin.
I squinted up at the traffic light overhead, willing the signal to flick from red to green so I could pull out of the intersection and escape the direct sunlight.
“Come on,” I groaned, clenching my hands around the steering wheel. The light didn’t change.
I slumped back into the driver’s seat and sighed.
This was a mistake, I decided. I could be back at my apartment right now, soaking in an ice-cold bath… or eating ice cream… or both, at the same time...
I could have been doing a lot of things with my afternoon, but instead, I had decided to drive to High Rollers territory and track down my secret biker husband.
Why? Well, I was having a hard time answering that.
It had been over a week since Ace had stopped by my office. For days, I had been turning over that playing card, trying to figure out what it meant. Who was the King of Money? What was this all about? And what did the High Rollers’ have to do with it?
Today, curiosity had finally gotten the better of me, and I had decided to make a post-work road trip to High Rollers’ territory.
I wasn’t particularly eager to return. After all, the last time I had visited Ace’s side of town, I had wound up with a husband.
The traffic light overhead finally flicked to green, and I shoved my foot down on the gas. The engine groaned wearily as the car dragged forward out of the intersection. Clearly my Jeep felt the heat just as much as I did.
As I drove closer and closer to the Clark County line, the radio began to crackle and break up. The overly-cheerful voice of the weather man was replaced with patches of static, and then the station dropped out completely.
“Great,” I grunted under my breath. I fiddled with the AM / FM tuner, seeking out another station. I scrolled through the static until I landed on a clear frequency. The first hit happened to be a heavy metal station, and the car was immediately flooded with the sound of a guttural scream.
“Nope,” I said, twisting the radio knob again. I scrolled through more static, then hit a second clear station.
“Bad credit? No cash? That’s not a problem at Bob’s Auto and Finance! We’ll get you on the road in no time—”
“No thanks,” I flicked the tuner knob again until I landed on some evangelist with a southern accent preaching about marriage.
“In order to have a fruitful marriage, men and women both must come to respect their natural roles. The man’s role is the head of the household; he is a leader, and it is his duty to provide and protect. The woman’s role is to be a servant of man. It is her duty to be obedient and submissive. Many women wonder why their husbands become unhappy or stray. More often than not, it is because the wife tries to challenge her husband’s authority—”
“Fuck that!” I glared. I slammed my knuckles into the power button, cutting the radio off completely so that the only sound filling the Jeep was the purr of the A/C blasting out cold air.
I tried to push the preacher’s marriage lecture out of my head, but I couldn’t shake it. The words hung in my brain like cobwebs, sticking and tangling around all of my thoughts.
There had been a time, years and years ago, when I could almost envision myself getting married. Granted, I was never the type of girl who daydreamed about white wedding dresses or walking down the aisle. But it wasn’t like I was fundamentally opposed to the institution or anything like that.
I started thinking about marriage more and more when I was in college. My ex-boyfriend and I had settled into a routine; date nights and beer-soaked college parties and snuggling in bed on the weekends with a giant box of pizza and a stack of DVDs.
By the time we were doing each other’s laundry, I assumed that I had found domestic bliss. Maybe this was the kind of comfortable, easy love that prompted people to get married in the first place? We were happy enough, and we got along… why shouldn’t we get married?
I shuddered to think what might have happened if I had never walked in on him cheating on me. Would we have ended up married? Would we have had kids? Would I have ended up tied down, stuck, and miserable?
Once I had recovered from the shock of our breakup, I realized that I had no one to blame but myself. Sure, he had been the one that cheated. But I had allowed myself to settle; to become complacent and comfortable. To me, that was even worse.
I lost all interest in dating and relationships after that. What was the point? Best case scenario, you find someone to fold laundry and watch movies with. Worst case scenario? Well, don’t get me started.
Being cheated on made me realize that I couldn’t trust anyone to take care of me or provide the support that I needed. That had to come from me. At the end of the day, I was the only person I could count on. I didn’t need anybody else, period.
I spotted the neon Lucky Brake sign in the distance, already glowing against the afternoon sky. I let out a breath, and then I realized that I had been gripping the wheel so tight that my knuckles were bright white. I released my grip and rolled the Jeep into the parking lot.
This time, the roll-up metal doors of the garage were open. Inside the shop, a handful of employees tinkered on engines and bike frames. Judging by the black leather vests they wore, they were all members of the High Rollers.
I hopped out of the Jeep and immediately cringed as a wave of heat swept over my skin, prickling at my pores.
The bikers in the garage must have heard the sound of my footsteps crunching on the gravel, because they immediately jolted up defensively and glared at me.
“We’re closed,” one of them growled.
“I’m not a customer,” I said, breaking my stride at the edge of the garage. I kept my feet rooted on the gravel, not stepping over the threshold into the garage until I was invited.
“Then what the hell do you want?”
“I’m here to see Ace,” I said.
“Shit,” another one the bikers cackled. He slapped a grease rag over his shoulder and shook his head as he gave me a glance up and down. “You’re the cop, aren’t you?”
“No way she’s a cop,” another biker challenged him. “You ever see a cop with legs like those? Shiiiiit.”
“Shut the fuck up, man,” the first biker elbowed him in the ribs. “That’s Ace’s old lady you’re talking about.”
“Nah, that ain’t his old lady,” the first biker that had greeted me said, glancing back at the other two. “She’s just a pawn.” Then he glanced back at me and added, “Ain’t that right, agent?”
“Leave her alone,” a voice cut through the tension, and we all glanced towards the back of the garage. Ace strode into the shop, wearing a glare that matched his black leather vest.
“You gonna introduce us to your guest?” the first biker asked, turning to Ace.
“I think you’ve already taken care of that yourselves,” Ace shot back. “Sienna, I see that you’ve met Cuntface, Asshole, and Dipshit. I’m sure you found them all just as charming as their names would suggest.”
“Even more so,” I confirmed sarcastically, flashing a smile at the group of bikers that sneered back at me.
Instead of stopping when he reached me, Ace brushed straight past me.
“I was just heading downstairs,” he said. “You can join me.”
He didn’t wait for me to accept or decline his invitation; he kept striding right out of the garage door, and out into the parking lot.
I frowned, then I followed after him as he led me towards a chain link fence that surrounded a section of parking lot behind the building. The fence was covered in black privacy tarp, and the gate was bolted shut with a giant padlock. Ace jammed a key into the lock and snapped it apart, then he pulled the gate open a few inches.
“Go on,” he nodded, gesturing for me to step through the gate.
I frowned and craned my neck, trying to see what was on the other side of the fence.
“Don’t worry,” Ace chuckled at my reluctance. “I’m not leading you into some sort of trap.”
“I’m supposed to trust that?”
“Up to you,” he shrugged. “But if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”
“That’s reassuring,” I grimaced, then I squeezed my body through the opening in the gate and stepped into a small square lot. The fenced off section backed right up to the building, and there was a door bolted shut with a deadbolt just like the one on the fence gate.
Ace squeezed through the gate, then closed it behind us and made his way to the door at the back of the building. He shook a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the padlock on the door, then swung it open.
I gulped when I saw what was on the other side.
It was a staircase going down into a basement underneath the shop. The walls were painted black, and the stairwell was illuminated by tangled strings of bright red Christmas lights that hung from the ceiling. It looked like a haunted house or a carnival attraction.
“What’s the matter, Blondie?” Ace taunted me from behind. “Want me to go first so I can keep you safe?”
“No,” I snapped, remembering the sermon I had heard on the radio. “I don’t need you to protect me, thanks.”
With that, I strode forward confidently and began my descent down the stairs. The steps creaked under the weight of my feet, and the lights flickered ominously above me. I ignored the heebie jeebies that festered in my stomach and kept moving, one step at a time, until I hit the cold concrete basement floor.
It was at least ten degrees cooler in the basement, which was a welcome relief from the miserable dry desert heat above ground. I felt the chill of the basement’s A/C tingle over my skin, drying up the sweat that had collected in the small of my back.
“This way,” Ace said, leading me through the darkness towards another door.
When he pushed it open, my jaw practically fell straight to the floor.
I expected a dark, dingy basement that stunk of grease and motor oil. Instead, I found myself standing in a casino.
“This is it, huh?” I asked, spinning around slowly as I took in all of the sights and sounds of the room. They had everything: slot machines, card tables, even a bar.
“This is it,” Ace nodded. He strode over to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools, then turned to face me expectantly. “Why did you come here today, Sienna?”
I pressed my lips together in a firm line as I crossed the room and took a seat beside Ace at the bar.
“You still haven’t signed the annulment papers,” I said.
“Is that why you drove all the way over here?”
“No,” I admitted. I slipped my hand into my purse and pulled out the playing card, then I slid it across the bar top to Ace. “I came because of this.”
“So now you’re interested in catching a shark, huh?”
“I’d like to know what this means,” I said, tapping the face of the card. “Who is the King of Money?”
“Mr. Money,” Ace corrected me. “That’s what he calls himself. But he might as well call himself the king. He has half the damn strip in his back pocket.”
“And you two know each other?”
“Not personally,” Ace shook his head. “But we’re about to.”
I frowned, and Ace folded his arms over his chest. His biceps flexed, and I felt a shiver rip through my spine. I remembered touching those muscles. I remembered how firm and hard and hot his flesh had felt.
“Mr. Money owns casinos all over the strip, but he’s a greedy bastard. He’s pissed off that we’re taking his business,” Ace explained.
“Really?” I cocked my head, glancing around the casino again. “No offense, but aren’t you sort of…”
“Out of his league?” Ace finished for me.
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“You’d think so,” he shrugged. “But Mr. Money doesn’t see it that way. He just cares about the bottom line. And the bottom line is that every month, we cut a deeper and deeper hole in his profits.”
“And I’m guessing he’s not too happy about that?”
“He’s furious,” Ace said. “We’ve had beef with him in the past, but now he’s out for blood. He put one of our members in the hospital already by cutting his brake lines and running him off the damn road. Then he tried to torch the shop with Molotov cocktails. It’s only going to keep getting worse.”
“And what have you done to retaliate?” I wanted to know.
“So far? Nothing. That’s where you come in.”
“Oh,” I pursed my lips together and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I said, “I wish I could help, Ace. But unfortunately, severed brake lines and attempted arson aren’t exactly within the Gaming Commission’s jurisdiction. That would be a matter for LVPD—”
“We can’t go to the cops,” Ace scowled. “You know that.”
“I know. But I’m not sure what I can do to help you—”
“What about human trafficking?” Ace asked. “Underage prostitution? Money laundering?”
“Okay, now we might have a case,” I said. “But those are pretty hefty claims. It could take months to investigate. And I’m guessing this Mr. Money guy is pretty good at covering his tracks. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be fast—”
“Let me worry about that part,” Ace said. His eyes flashed up at me, and I got caught in a wave of suffocating ice blue. “I’m going to serve Mr. Money to you on a silver platter. All I need you to do is lock him in a cell and throw away the key.”
“Ace—”
“It’s a win-win, Blondie. You catch the bad guy and save the day, and we get Mr. Money off our backs once and for all.”
“It’s risky,” I said. “One wrong move, and this could all blow up…”
“I’m counting on it,” Ace winked. “Things tend to blow up when you and me get together.”
His hand found my lap underneath the bar, and he pressed his fingers through the linen skirt of my dress and traced a tantalizingly slow circle into the inside of my thigh.
I cleared my throat and stiffened, trying to hold my composure even though my insides melted from his touch. I jerked my legs away from his hand and crossed them at the knee under the bar.
“If I do this,” I said, “Will you sign the annulment papers?”
“Blondie, if we pull this off… I’ll do anything you ask me to.”
“Just sign the papers,” I breathed heavily. “That’s all I want.”
“You sure about that?”
He leaned closer towards me, and I felt that rock hard chest crash into my shoulder. My pulse spiked and my veins throbbed with heat, and I resisted the urge to lean even further into him.
“What else could I possibly want from you?!”
“I can think of a few things,” he shrugged and his lips curled into a sultry smile. “Protection, for a start.”
“Protection!” I scoffed. “That’s ironic. I thought you were the one who needed protection. Isn’t that why you’re so desperate to stay married to me? To cover your own ass?”
“That’s not what this is about. And besides, I’m not talking about that kind of protection,” Ace said, anger flashing through his eyes like a bolt of lightning. “I’m talking about your dead body winding up in the trunk of a car parked in the extended stay garage over at McCarran International. Because that’s exactly what will happen to you if you try to pull your pink Vespa bullshit with someone like Mr. Money.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a fucking guarantee,” Ace snarled. “With all due respect, Agent O’Malley, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. Mr. Money is a dangerous man.”
“I’ve taken down plenty of bad guys before. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Well unless you want it to be your last, I suggest you swallow some of that pride and let me help you out,” Ace said. “You might think I’m some soulless asshole, but I’m not about to let anything bad happen to you. Not on my watch.”
“Unbelievable,” I shook my head. “This is because I’m a woman, isn’t it? You think I’m just some weak little damsel in distress who needs to be taken care of.”
He narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
“Well news flash, Ace,” I continued, “This isn’t that kind of marriage. I’m not just some meak, subservient little wife that’s going to hide behind your back and obey your every whim.”
The radio sermon replayed in my head, fueling the anger that pumped viciously through my veins.
“Subservient? You?!” Ace scoffed. “You want to know what I think of you, Sienna?”
“Let’s hear it,” I challenged him, glaring back.
“I think you’re a stubborn, abrasive, hard-headed bitch.”
“Shocker.”
“I’m not finished,” he snapped, holding up a hand to silence me. “I bet someone fucked you over. Maybe you have daddy issues or maybe some asshole broke your heart. Whatever it was, you decided that you never wanted to need anyone ever again. So you act stubborn and push people away because you think that makes you a strong, independent woman. But you wanna know the kicker, Blondie?”
I glared silently, not answering.
“The kicker is that it’s all just another dumb disguise,” he said. “That’s what all of this is really about, right? Working in a male-dominated field, wearing your silly little costumes, taking down the bad guys… you wear this job like it’s your suit of armor. And I bet you fucking love that, because when you pull out your little badge and snap a pair of handcuffs of somebody, you can almost make yourself believe that you’re in control.”
“So we’re playing this game again, are we?” I cocked my head, feeling the vicious snap of my tongue as the bitter words spewed from my mouth. “You seem to get a real kick out of psychoanalyzing me. I’m afraid to be myself. I’m afraid of men. I’m afraid of getting hurt. Tell me, Ace, what else am I afraid of?!”
“I think you’re afraid of a lot of things.” His voice was dark and low, and his eyes burned that intense shade of ice blue as he stared straight into me.
I suddenly felt exposed; like his eyes could see through my flesh to the network of veins and neurons and thoughts that bobbed around inside my skull.
“You’re afraid of me. You’re afraid of the things I made you feel that night,” he continued, slipping his hand back around my thigh. “You’re afraid of this.”
“I’m not afraid. I think this is a mistake,” I murmured, barely able to speak through the shallow, shaky breaths that I was taking. “There’s a difference.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” he asked.
He leaned even closer, and I felt his warm lips were on my neck, blowing hot breath into my even hotter skin.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“So tell me to stop,” Ace dared me.
But we both knew that I couldn’t do that.