The Comeback Shanora Williams

By Shanora Williams

Copyright © 2014 Shanora Williams All right reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author ’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author. Published December 2014 Editing by Yours Truly, The Editor Cover Art and Design by Najla Qamber Designs Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

CONTACT SHANORA I love chatting with my readers and fans. If there’s anything you’d like to talk to me about please feel free to email me at [email protected] Also, feel free to follow me on these social networks to keep up with what I’m working on next, info on the characters, and even teasers! Facebook: facebook.com/shanorawilliamsauthor Twitter: twitter.com/shanorawilliams Instagram: @reallyshanora Website: www.authorshanorawilliams.com Also, to be the first to receive personal updates from me, exclusive teasers, and to be apart of upcoming giveaways, join my mailing list today. Keeping Up With Shanora Williams

BEWARE 2: The Comeback cannot be read as a standalone. To read book one, BEWARE on your e-reader for only $0.99 cents, click the following links below. :) BEWARE – Amazon US BEWARE – Amazon UK B&N iBooks

Other Books By Shanora Williams (All can be found on Amazon, B&N, iBooks and Kobo) FireNine Series *Who He Is (Book #1) Who We Are (Book #2) Who I Am (Book #3) Who I’m Becoming (Book #4) Hard to Resist Series *Hard to Resist (#1) Hard to Hold On (Hard to Resist Sequel) (#2) Hard to Forget (Hard to Resist Prequel) (0.5) Control Series Control Me (Part 1) – Free on Amazon and Wattpad Release Me (Part 2) – First 2 Parts free on Wattpad

Dedicated to all the single parents. You are strong. You keep your head held high. You provide for your child[ren] and for that you are loved. It’s not easy, but you make it work. Thank YOU for never giving up!

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths." Elisabeth Kubler-Ross





It’s all supposed to be over. Right? Wrong. A gun goes off. There’s blood. So much blood. Everywhere. Who does it belong to? I cling to him, eyes wide. In shock. Another gunshot rings in my ears. I don’t look. I can’t because I’m falling. Sinking. My head falls on its own. I struggle for breath. Pain… lots of pain. Ace is above me, brown eyes wide and panicked, and moments later, I’m on the ground, unable to do anything. Everyone is screaming. I’m in a trance, a lost state of mind, but soon, I come to peace with myself, and everything turns grey. The sun disappears. Ace disappears. I disappear. Darkness. Just like that, I’m gone… Gone. Now, I realize that it’s over. It’s finally over. Wow. Finally.





Internal Bleeding – Kid Cudi I watch her go, knowing it will be the last time I ever see her. I give her hope. Faith. I give too much, knowing I won’t be able to keep the promises I make. It all happens so fast. I don’t know where it goes wrong. We were good. I was good. It’s crazy how quickly things can turn from peaceful to deadly in less than an hour. I thought, for sure, I had a chance at surviving—of getting through all the bullshit my ignorant father created years ago. I was ready to start over. I was ready to be free. I was wrong. Gunshots make my ears ring. Pain seizes my shoulder, and I fall to the ground, helpless. I fight through the agony though, sitting up and pushing my back against the car door. I look towards London who’s screaming for me. Her eyes are wet, her face a bright shade of frustrated red. She’s on edge. I need to calm her down and get her the fuck away from all this shit. I tell her that everything will be okay—that she has to go and I’ll find her soon. Of course, like the stubborn mule she is, she refuses to leave. I tell her to write me letters. Letters will keep us close together. In the back of my mind, I want to survive this thing. I want to fight as hard as I can, kill every single one of Pablo’s men, and move the hell on with my life like I planned.

But deep down, I know it won’t happen. Fortunately, Tye forces London inside the truck. I watch as the truck skids backwards, and as she pulls a sharp right, not once does she look back. Good. That’s my girl. Keep the faith. Now that she’s gone, I need to get down to business. I glance at Gerrick, giving him an obvious look. No words need to be shared. He knows what has to be done. Wincing, he reaches for his metal piece and cocks it, nodding his head once as he meets my eyes again. Tye rushes to our side, looking us over with worry etching his face. “Fuck,” he breathes, realizing the damage that’s been done to us both. “How the fuck are we gonna get outta this one?” I turn away, reaching for my gun as well. The truth is, I have no clue how we’re going to get out of it, but if I’m going down, I won’t go down like a bitch. I refuse to go down without a fight. “Y’all are my brothers,” I say, looking from Tye to Gerrick. “If we don’t make it out alive, I want you both to know I couldn’t have gotten anywhere in my life without you. It’s been real. Couldn’t have asked for better men.” I swallow hard, squeezing the hot metal in my hands. Gerrick shuts his eyes and places the back of his head against the car. He doesn’t speak. He’s losing it. He’s already lost a lot of blood. He’s been shot through the arm and leg. If we don’t get out of this alley sooner, rather than later, I’m going to lose him too. I can’t lose him. Tye shakes his head, a growl scratching as his throat. “Fuck this! They killed my fucking brother! That’s already too much! They won’t kill y’all too. Those motherfuckers have to die!” Tye positions his gun in front of him and hops to his feet. “No, Tye!” I shout after him, but it’s already too late. Before I can stop him, he’s rushing around the open car door and towards Pablo’s men. I fight through the excruciating discomfort as I spring to my

feet. Tye has a temper, and sometimes, it gets us into some deep shit. He’s not thinking clearly—he just lost his twin—but I can’t let him go out there alone. Gerrick, although in pain, sluggishly follows my lead, and we round the car, shooting at Pablo’s men while trying to duck and dodge the violent bullets coming right at us. There are only six of Pablo’s men left. Tye kills two. I kill three, and killing them feels fucking wonderful. Gerrick kills the last one, but the one man he shoots returns fire, shooting him right in the heart of his chest. A thick grunt fills my ears, and he falls with a heavy thud. Then, everything seems to go in slow motion. My pulse pounds in my ears, watching as he goes down, tumbling to the ground. I bark his name, rushing in his direction, not giving a fuck about anything else. Gerrick is my main man. He’s almost like a partner to me. He’s the one who keeps my head on straight. He’s been here since the beginning. I’m almost there—my hands reach out to him—but before I can make it, something pierces my back, causing me to fall to the ground. I’m stunned by how fast it all happens. My eyes glisten. I groan, on the verge of fading. The pain is unbearable. Agonizing. I can’t breathe. Fighting through the pain, I flop onto my back but cry out, clutching my side as the torture shoots up to my chest. It’s raw and wet near my ribs. The blood spills out without any kind of restraint. My hand flies to my side, applying pressure to the wound. My head falls to my right, and I stare ahead at Gerrick who is on his back, his eyes wide open. Lifeless. Blood pools around his bulky frame, his dreadlocks spread all around him. “No,” I moan. Tears build in my eyes as I look to my left, spotting Tye lying right next to his brother.

They’re gone. All of them—gone. Yes the pain in my side is excruciating, but nothing hurts more than seeing my men—the men I grew up with and trusted —now dead. It’s tearing me up inside. Destroying me. A hot, unwelcome tear runs down the side of my face as I stare up at the sky. The sun is nowhere in sight, and I get pissed. The clouds are grey and bundled. I don’t want to die on a gloomy day. It’s depressing as hell. At least give me a ray of sunlight, something to hold onto as I fade away in this alley. The sounds around me are drowned out by the pounding of my heart, racing in my chest and reverberating through my head. I feel numb, my body losing feeling as I stare up at the empty sky. And then, before I know it, the hallucinations start. London appears out of thin air. So beautiful. So caring. She bends down to her knees, caressing my cheek. Smiling down at me, she says, “Get up, silly.” A smile scratches at my lips. “I can’t,” I whisper. “Yes you can. For me.” “I’ve been shot,” I breathe. “Twice. Impossible right now, Red.” “But you’re a fighter. You have to fight through this. Nothing’s impossible for Ace Crow, right?” I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t.” And truthfully, I don’t even know if I want to survive anymore. I know she isn’t here and that I’ll die in this alley, never to see her again. That, alone, kills me. She nods but doesn’t say anything more. She simply smiles and continues caressing my cheek. She understands. All I can tell her is, “I can’t.” That negative statement runs out repeatedly. The tears that line the sides of my face have thickened. I’ve lost. I can’t believe it, but I’ve lost. It’s over. It’s all over. Several minutes later, I hear footsteps, and I figure it’s one of Pablo’s men coming to make sure I’ve

officially been killed. London stops stroking my cheek and glances back, her eyes widening. She then stands, running in the opposite direction—away from me and this crazy, fucked up situation. My head falls to the side, watching her brown locks swimming around her shoulders until, finally, she disappears. My ears are thick with blood, but I can hear the voice speaking. Another one speaks. Both deep, murmuring to each other. “Looks like he’s still alive,” the first one says. “Yeah? Check his pulse,” the second voice demands. A hand immediately grabs my arm, and two fingers press on my wrist and then my neck. “Yep. Still beatin’.” “Good.” The silence is bleak, but before it registers, a gun makes a clinking noise, and the second voice says, “Back up.” “W-west,” the first voice stutters. The soles of his shoes scrape the pavement as he backs away. “What the fuck are you doing?” he spits. “I can’t fucking share, Parks. You know that. Knew it from the start.” “But we had a deal! We were doing this together. You need my fucking help!” “Yeah, well…” Before the second man finishes his sentence, a loud bang echoes off the walls of the alleyway. Parks collapses, landing only a few feet away from me, his eyes wide. Mine are barely open, but I can see his face. He’s strangely familiar. His tan skin, his brown eyes, and even his buzz-cut. My haze grows dense, but I swear I know that face. I know that man. Before it can sink in, my body is snatched up, and I groan as the man starts taking off all my clothes. He strips me of my dress shirt, pants, and shoes, and then places my body against the gravelly brick wall, marching for Parks’s dead body. Through thin-slit eyes, I watch as the burly man takes all of Parks’s clothes off and sets them aside. He then dresses him in my clothes, making sure each button is buttoned correctly and that even my belt is tightly fit around his waist. He does this vastly while

checking his surroundings, almost like he’s done it before. He comes back in my direction, puts Parks’s clothes on me, and then grunts while dragging me down the alley. His car is parked in the deck, and once we reach it, he shoves me inside. I wince, my wound screaming around the bullet lodged inside. Before he closes the door, I ask, “Who the hell are you?” I can’t see much of his face, but I do see the demonic smile he flashes at me before slamming the door behind him. He pops his trunk, digging around inside, and then slams it closed. It takes him several minutes before he returns to the car and hops in the driver ’s seat, tossing what looks like a gas can and a box of matches on the passenger side. The car roars to life, and I shift agonizingly, turning onto my back. He sighs, and it doesn’t take long for me to realize what he’s done. Parks has similarities of mine. His haircut. His stature. Even his bone structure. Shit. The man skids away from the alley without so much as a look back, but as he turns in the opposite direction, I spot the reflection of the fire he’s created on the tinted window across from me. I groan at the sight of it. Disbelief washes over me. Who the fuck is this man? Sadly, I don’t have the energy to think. My body is at its weakest. I’m losing more and more blood by the second. I hear police sirens fading in and out. It’s hard keeping my eyes open, but before I drift off, I finally figure out exactly who it is that’s taking me away from the crime scene. His voice. His ways. Yes, I remember him clearly now. I’m not sure why it took me so long to figure it out. Nixon West, the dirtiest, filthiest ex-cop I ever had the displeasure of meeting. He hated my father when he was around, and when he died, he put all that rage into taking me down.

I groan again. From this moment on, I know that, in his grasps, I will soon be dead. There is no hope with this selfish motherfucker. He wanted Crow destroyed for years—for me to be taken down—and he finally has the opportunity. Damn, I think before I drift into a dark sea of despair. I’m fucked.





Blue Ocean Floor - Justin Timberlake Present Day – Three Years Later I never thought I’d see the day—the day the storm would finally pass. It passed many months ago; I just never gave it much thought with how busy my life has been. Each day, I hoped he would return. I hoped that all the information, all the proof, was a lie and he was still out there, somewhere. But three and a half years have gone by, and the waiting, hoping, became tiresome a long time ago. It was time to start a new life. Time to build myself up again. Although the first eighteen months after he died were the toughest to get through, I was glad I could smile again. I could laugh. For moments, I felt free. But then, I’d see Aden’s face, and some of that happiness would fade—not because of him, but because my son, Aden, was a spitting image of his father. Sometimes he acted like him—as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be. I loved him, and I hated that I couldn’t explain to him who his father was. I know, one day, once he gets old enough to figure out his skin is a few shades darker than mine and his hair is raven-like, he’ll ask who his father is. I’m afraid of that day. I don’t want it to come. How am I to explain that his father was one of the most ruthless men I knew? He was a drug dealer. A gun dealer. A liar that tricked me into going upstate

with him. There were good qualities within him, but those rarely surfaced, certainly not enough for me to brag about. The only good thing I could say was that I loved him, and that I would never stop loving who he was. Ace… my Ace. Long gone now. My thoughts are interrupted as a warm hand presses on my waist. He reels me into him, and his 4 o’clock shadow rubs across my shoulder. I smile, tilting my head back and indulging in his embrace. Slowly, his fingers run down my hip and ease their way to the curve of my ass. He cups it, gently squeezing. “Morning gorgeous,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice sensual and warm. “Morning,” I whisper. He continues touching me, moving his hand from my ass to the middle of my thighs. He stops right before reaching my womanhood, and I absentmindedly constrict with need. He chuckles low and deep, knowing how much I can’t stand the torture of being teased. I turn in his arms, draping mine around his waist, and he stares down at me, his baby blue irises sparkling from the rising sun filtering in through the small window above. Greg. He’s sweet and extremely affectionate. He treats me like a glass doll, making sure to never hurt me in any kind of way. After everything I’ve been through, I can appreciate that. He’s everything Ace isn’t. He allows me to forget, even if it happens to be temporary. He’s the Captain of the small town of Creole, California for goodness sakes. A pure and good guy. The polar opposite of Ace Crow. “You’re up early for a day off.” I adjust in his arms. He kisses my cheek. “Yeah. Know why?” “Why?” “Because I’m going to make you breakfast and take you and Aden to the park for a nice walk, but first”—he strokes my cheek—“I need my breakfast.”

His gaze lowers to my teal panties. His tongue runs across his lower lip, and my eyes expand as his body descends, flipping me onto my back along the way. “Greg,” I pant. “Shh. It’s okay.” He spreads my legs apart, kissing the insides of my thighs with sensual need. My skin buzzes, tingling with pure delight. I clench. Ache. Throb as he kisses me repeatedly, still teasing. And then, when I can no longer take it, he flattens his tongue and runs it across my anticipating clit. A heavy moan escapes me, and he groans in pleasure, reaching up to toy with my nipples. They harden beneath the cotton camisole. I take a look down, watching him watch me. I breathe harder, my body bucking, legs locking around him. I’m close, writhing against his unwavering tongue. In less than a mere minute, I cum, crying out softly. Greg grins as he kisses my sensitive lips then pushes himself up to get above me, placing a damp kiss on my forehead. Lowering his head, he presses his mouth on mine, and I smile behind it, grateful for his early morning generosity. He then climbs off of me and off the bed, adjusting himself, but as he does, the door creaks open and in walks Aden. “Mommy?” he calls. I sit up just as Greg covers the hard-on in his boxers. A laugh bubbles out of me as I yank my panties up beneath the sheets and hop off the bed, picking Aden up in my arms. “Hi baby,” I coo. “Hi.” He hugs me tight around the neck. “Morning, kiddo,” Greg says, swiping his upper lip. He makes his way towards us, ducking just a little to reach Aden’s eye level. “Hey, how about some of your favorite?” Aden scrunches his face. “My favowit?” “Yeah. Flapjacks, scrambled eggs, and bacon?” Aden’s face lights up. “Pancakes!” “That’s right, baby. Pancakes,” I laugh. Greg knuckles his chin then reaches for him, tossing him

onto his back and jet-planing his way to the kitchen. I laugh, absolutely in awe of how Greg treats Aden. He treats him as if he’s his own. He didn’t have to be okay with the package deal, and it wasn’t like I told him I had a son when we first met at Maxi’s bar on 3rd. But when he met Aden, he just so happened to click with him. They bonded just as well as we did. He makes us smile. He takes us shopping and to the park whenever we just need to get out of the house. He’s a great role model for Aden. Someone to look up. He’s an amazing boyfriend, but deep down, I know he’ll never be able to cast a shadow over the one that still owns my heart. I’ve settled with Greg, not because I feel lonely and miserable, but because he’s good to me. To us. He’s what I need in this crazy, fucked up world. Someone simple, with a nine to five job. Someone who doesn’t own a closet full of skeletons and is a really good guy all around. Although his job can be a risky one when he’s not behind his desk, it’s nothing in comparison to the former. I sit on the edge of the bed, pressing my hand to my forehead and staring at the polished floorboards. Footsteps start a few seconds later, and I perk up just as Greg steps around the corner with Aden on his shoulders. Greg meets my eyes, and I force a smile. He takes notice of my blue mood, and his face wrinkles with worry. “You okay?” I smile, this time like I mean it. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I just need to freshen up.” “Oh,” he nods. “Well go ahead. Me and Aden will be waiting for you in the kitchen.” I step forward, kissing both his and Aden’s cheeks. Aden giggles, telling me to stop it as I give him raspberry kisses on his face. “I’ll see you two at the table. Save some pancakes for me.” “You better hurry! You know how this pancake monster is.” Greg tickles Aden’s bare feet, which causes Aden to laugh hysterically. They laugh their way out of the bedroom and to the kitchen again. With each step they take, my smile fades.

I enter the bathroom, turning the knobs to start the shower. Then, I walk over to the sink and stare into the mirror, watching my depressed and watery eyes until the glass fades behind a veil of fog. A tear skids down my cheek. I think of Ace and what we were. How we used to banter and pick fights. How we used to just have fun around one another, enjoying each other ’s presence. It was far from simple, but somehow, we made it work. Our relationship, although unique and hectic, was utterly amazing, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing—well, other than the fact that he’s dead. First, I laugh at myself. Then, I press the palms of my hands over my face, sobbing into them. I think of how fucked up my life was and wonder what it would be like if he were still alive. I think of Jonah. The diamonds. That cold-blooded lifestyle, and then, there’s now. I lower my hands, peering through the openings in the fog, looking at my red-rimmed eyes, studying my flushed cheeks and frizzy hair. Everything is peaceful now. I know it’s insane to say, but now that everything is back to normal—now that my life is steadily pulling itself back together—it feels like something is missing. A part of me feels empty, and I’m not sure if it’s just the fact that I miss Ace and never got to say goodbye, or because with him, every day was an adventure. I should be happy, but I’m ungrateful. I should be head over heels for Greg, but I’m not. I love him, but it’s not the same, unforgettable love I cherished once before. It’s… different. Safer but different.





Cold Blooded – Kid Cudi I’ve been counting the drops from the leaky faucet for years now. Three years and two months to be exact. I’ve been keeping track of how many days I’ve spent in this hell hole. One thousand one hundred and fifty-six days. It’s the same faucet that never lets up, no matter how hard West twists the cracked spigot. “Rusty fucking shit,” West mutters, flinging the water from his grizzly hands. My head lifts slowly as I stare at his back¸ narrowing my eyes as he pushes a hand through his slicked back, greasy black hair. It’s been years. You’d think he would give up on trying to get my money and my connections, but he hasn’t. I haven’t given him any information. He’s tried forcing it out of me with beatings from his fists, feet, and even with the gun that I’m surprised he hasn’t used to kill me yet, but I refuse. That’s my shit. My fucking money. As soon as I get out of this crusty cell I’m going back for it. Yeah, I’m getting out. It’s taking me a while, but I know West is going to slip up one day. He’s not perfect, and he damn sure ain’t smart. I’ve been curious about him though. He hasn’t given up on trying to get my money, my connections to the trade, so why keep me alive after all these years? What more does he want? Just to see me suffer and soon die in this place? I know, sooner or later, he’ll stop feeding me. He gives me food—a spoiled piece of fruit and

water are all I get for breakfast and sometimes dinner, but it’s still food. Any man that wants my shit that bad would’ve killed me by now and figured it out himself. My head falls, my eyes meeting the shackles around my ankles. I adjust my arms behind my back, wincing as the rusty metal pinches and scrapes me. “You should just let me out now,” I rasp. “It might spare you an agonizing death when I finally get the fuck outta this place.” West looks over his shoulder, transitioning from serious to mocking. “You ain’t going nowhere. That ain’t clear to you yet, you piece of shit?” “Oh, trust me,” I say, releasing a chuckle just as dry as my throat. “I’m getting the fuck outta here.” He laughs. “Been dreaming too much, boy. You got it all fucked up.” He scratches his chin, kicking the silver tray that contains my uneaten lunch with his steel toe boot. The fruit flips off, landing on the gravel. “Oops.” He flashes a demonic grin before turning his back to me and walking away. The cell door slams behind him and, as always, he locks it, whistling a stupid tune as he drifts down the hallway. Pissed off and clinging to my last strand of patience, I yank my body forward, but all that causes is a piercing pain around my wrists. The chains clink as I continue yanking. Tugging. Forcing my body forward with all the strength I have. I’ve been in the same shackles for months on end. I know sooner or later, with all my struggling and fighting, they’ll give out. They’re rusting. Old as fuck. They have to be over twenty years old. What West doesn’t know is that, each time he gives me water, I keep some in my mouth and spit the rest on my wrists and ankles, hoping one day they’ll rust up and fall apart. I scrape them on the brick wall behind me, hoping to grate them apart. I’ve been doing it for three years. So far, nothing. And knowing that pisses me off even more. My forehead creases as I continue pulling. I need to get the fuck out of here. It’s been long enough. I’m

tired of waiting. My patience grew thin a long time ago. London is still out there. I need to find her. I need to see her again. I tug, thinking about what she might look like now. Did she cut her hair? Gain or lose weight? I’m sure she’s just as beautiful and just as smart as she was when she left. She’s everything I need in my life. Hope. Faith. A pure soul. Perfection. I hope she still thinks of me. In a way to torture my emotions, West mentioned that the word was out about me being dead. I knew if word was out, London knew, and she was no longer waiting for me. What was she going to wait for? The viewing of my dead body? She was too smart to go back. She’d most likely moved forward by now. “You know, everyone thinks you’re dead now,” West said, squatting before me, taunting. Mocking. “They all think Donovan Ace fucking Crow is dead. And why shouldn’t they? We all knew Crow wasn’t going to win every battle. You can thank me for that,” he chuckled. “Let me tell you a little story. After your piece of shit father snitched just to kick us off his payroll and got me and my partner fired, I still had people that owed me. I had someone in the department lie on the autopsy. I had someone cover my tracks and not give a second thought to it. That pretty girl of yours… she’s long gone. She ain’t coming back. Might as well tell me what I want to know. I will do this all day, every fucking day until you give up.” “Fuck you,” I spat, panting. I’d just gotten the shit beaten out of me, but I wasn’t backing down. “You won’t get shit from me. That’s my shit.” Sneering, West lifted his hand and roughly brought his thumb down, smudging the blood on the corner of my bottom lip. His eyes studied mine, and for a brief moment, all went still—all but that stupid fucking

faucet. “She’s a lovely one. Been thinking about getting her for myself.” “You touch her,” I rasped, “and I will fucking kill you.” With a gruff chuckle, he stood up and cracked all his knuckles at once. He stared down at me like he was superior—like he fucking owned me. I matched his stare, refusing to back down. Refusing to cower. He was trying to intimidate the wrong one. His fat-ass didn’t scare me. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and brought the lit end down to my chest. It burned, hurt like a bitch, but I held in the pain. I would not become weak. Fuck that. After burning me, I knew he was going to hit me again. I expected his hands, but instead, I received a steel-toed boot to my right ribcage. I buckled and wheezed, coughed until I felt a lung would pop. West bent down, clutching my face between his calloused fingers. He smelled of beer, sweat, and cigarettes. Sloppy pig. I yanked away, a growl bubbling in the heart of my chest. Yes, I was hurt and maybe I was stupid for trying to challenge a man who wanted everything I ever owned while cuffed in shackles, but he wasn’t going to own me. Fuck that. I’d be damned if I ever let anyone on this earth own me. “Trust me,” West spoke, sneering, “…it’s not me you have to worry about. There are much bigger sharks out there. Bigger sharks that are out for blood and riches. Those are the ones you can’t stop. Those, my friend”—he clapped my shoulder, purposely making it sting—“are the ones you should be worried about.” I have no clue where London is or how I’m going to find her, but all that needs to be known is that I will get to her one way or another. I’m getting my girl back. My life back. Just as that thought comes to mind, the sound of a clinking chain hits the floor. My body plummets

forward, but I stop myself right before hitting the ground, planting my palms on the rocky bottom. A slow smirk snakes across my lips as I study the hands that are finally free. The chain broke. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my water trick worked. I lift my arms, a faint smirk still on my lips. “Oh yeah,” I breathe, catching my breath. Slinking back against the wall, I place my hands behind me as if nothing ever happened, plotting my sinful demise. Then, in a low murmur, I breathe, “He’s a dead man walking.” *** “Wake up. Eat.” West’s voice fills the cell. I don’t budge. “I said,” he grunts, clutching my shoulders and slamming my back against the brick wall, “… wake the fuck up, you piece of shit!” He slams me again. My eyes pop open, and both hands come forward, crushing the shackles on his head. He groans as he falls back, flopping to the ground with a loud thud, and I pounce on top of him, smashing the ragged shackles into his face and head repeatedly. Growls are conjured—growls I don’t even realize are coming from me. But I continue. I don’t stop until I’m blinded by red. I’m murderous. Vengeful. Reckless. Another helpless groan escapes him. I hit him harder. I fuck him up, blood spattering on my face and bare chest. I don’t stop until I know the motherfucker, Nixon West, no longer exists. After smashing his face one final time, his body goes limp. I can’t make out his eyes anymore. His face is butchered—skin torn, lips busted, completely fucked up. Red is everywhere. His skin hangs from the ragged ends of the shackles, dripping with blood. With heavy panting, I dig through his pockets, searching for Swiss Army knife he constantly used against me. Once I pull it out, I break the lock of the shackles around my ankles, take the car keys and cell phone out of his pockets, and make my way down the

extended hallway, raking my fingers through my long, matted hair. A speed bump. It was just another speed bump in my life. Nothing I can’t get past. I’ve been through worse—beaten and punished for no reason—by a man I used to love, my father. Bruce. West was nothing. He tried breaking me plenty of times, but I refused to let it happen. I continued to fight. Why? Because I’m a fucking soldier. I may get knocked down a few times, but nothing will ever stop me. Nothing. A brown door appears ahead, and I burst out. The cool, crisp night air nips at my bare chest. My feet pound into the icy asphalt as I walk towards the silver Cadillac parked beneath a willow tree. Once I’m inside, I don’t hesitate to pull off. There’s nothing to look back to. I’m moving forward. I’m getting my fucking life back, but first… I’m getting London back.





Ghosts That We Knew – Mumford and Sons Greg was supposed to have the day off, but being Captain of the Creole Police Department doesn’t come easily. While we were at the park, he was called in for a suicide report. He apologizes sincerely while driving us back home. “Greg, it’s okay,” I tell him, placing my hand on top of his. “I swear I’m not upset. This is your job. You had it before you had me.” I smile and wink. He chuckles, flipping my hand over and squeezing gently. “You mean more to me. You know that.” I lean in to kiss his cheek then glance back at Aden who’s fighting the hell out of his sleep. Greg pulls into the garage, and once he parks, he starts to climb out, but I stop him, opening my door. “It’s okay. I got him.” “You sure?” he asks, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I nod, wanting so badly to recoil. I love him, but he can be so overbearing sometimes. I take Aden out, kiss Greg before he takes off, and enter the house, locking the door behind me. After putting Aden down for his nap, I quietly make my way out of his room, tiptoe down the stairs, and do the one thing I usually do when Greg isn’t home. I know it’s wrong, and I should just leave it all behind me, but after years of trying, it seems virtually impossible. I open the door to the basement, staring down at the dark, vacant space below. My heart thunders, my palms becoming clammy and hot. My throat works

hard to clear the dryness. I know what awaits me down there. I draw in a deep breath, flipping the light switch on. Cracking the door behind me, I make my way down the creaky stairs, mentally cursing at them for being so noisy. Once I reach the bottom of the staircase, I take a thorough look around, familiar with Greg’s dusty brown recliner in the corner, the ottoman, his box of tools on top of it, and even the cobwebs that I need to dust away immediately. Although it’s dark, dank, and smells of mild mildew, this place is sacred to me. It’s filled with my past, my memories. It’s filled with things I’m supposed to forget about but can’t because I’m constantly tormented by thoughts and reminiscences. I’m not proud of what I hide. In fact, I wish I could just burn it all. But I’m weak. I can’t. Not yet. Turning my head to the left, I lock eyes on the desk in the corner. I stare at it for a while, rocking on the heels of my tennis shoes and chewing on my bottom lip, debating whether to go towards it or go back up the stairs and cling onto my new life as much as possible. I glance back, deathly afraid of the silence. Then, I look forward, taking slow steps toward the black desk. It always wins. There’s a leather chair in front of it, but I don’t sit. I glower. I wait, as if the drawers will pop open and everything will come tackling me to the cement ground. I admit, I’d love to feel that—feel something from what I knew. But all I feel is fear and loneliness. All I feel is vacancy and desperation. The past is dark and terrifying, yet I incessantly remind myself of it. Why? Taking the final step forward, I sit down in the chair, lowering my line of vision to the locked drawer to my right. I pull the key out of my pocket with cold, trembling hands, lowering it down to the

lock. It clinks when it’s unlocked, and I flinch from the echo. The sound seems much louder this time around. My eyes seal. I pause. I know this is wrong. I shouldn’t be torturing myself like this, but doing this makes me feel a little human deep down. The drawer is pulled open. Quivering hands linger over the purple box. I pull it out by its handle, carefully placing it on top of the desk. Paranoid, I take a quick look back. Nothing. I sigh. I know Greg will be calling once he reaches the station, so I just go for it. I pop the box open, and the lid falls back. I blink hard and slow as I look from the black velvet bags containing at least three hundred million dollars worth of diamonds, to the folded letters and notes, and then to the photos, purposely flipped upside down. I pick the pictures up first. The first one is the picture Jonah had in his apartment in New York of our family—me, Jonah, Mom, and Dad. We were at a waterpark. So happy. So free of all the worldly bullshit. I place it down, moving onto the next. The pad of my finger runs across the glossy finish. It’s a photo of Jonah and me after my graduation in Atlanta. He’s smiling, and I do the same, but my smile slowly begins to diminish the longer I stare at it. I notice how dark and cloudy his eyes are, his tense shoulders. His uneasiness. That’s when he’d let his problems become too much to handle. I should’ve noticed it then. I should’ve spoken up. I could’ve prevented his death if I wasn’t so worried about Ace and why he was around. If I’d been paying a little more attention to my brother instead of Crow, I most likely would’ve noticed something was wrong the minute I laid eyes on him. Instead, I was distracted by a glorious man in a suit and a blood-red tie that seamlessly matched his bloody and murderous demeanor. I was pulled into the midst of lust, trapped by his honey eyes and hard,

penetrating glare. I was lost in the realm of Ace, the worst one yet. I place our picture down and move onto the last one. It’s Ace. Bianca cut it out of the New York Times and gave it to me. It was all she had. Ace hardly ever took photos. Ace’s story was all over the news, and the lies they told—the rumors—were heartbreaking. They didn’t know Ace the way I did, so all the reporters could do was judge him and make shit up. They didn’t know Ace was trying to leave and start a new life—in fact, they thought Ace started the shootout. They called it the “Drug Dealer ’s Showdown”. They made Ace and his men out to be the perpetrators when, in fact, he was the victim. Pablo’s men were after us. They killed him. He died because of me. Without even realizing it, I slam a fist on the desk, fighting a sob. Tears spill all over his photo, and when I realize it, I put it away quickly, refusing to ruin it. I shut the box and stuff it in the drawer, locking it with haste. The last thing I need right now is to read the letter that was given to me while I was in Greece. I can’t. I stand to my feet, swiping at my eyes and breathing deeply. “Pull your shit together, London,” I scold myself. “You have a new life. A new purpose. Aden. Greg.” I turn towards the staircase and make my way up. Once I reach the top, I take a final look back, knowing that’ll be the last time I ever open that drawer again. *** Midnight arises. The moon makes my skin glow. Milky and pure. I imagine caramel-colored hands running up and down my arm, comforting me. Keeping me close. I imagine his warm breath, his manly scent, and his lips pressing on my neck from behind. I want it to linger but, of course, the feeling withers and wilts like a dying rose. The room gets colder. I tug the sheets over me. The sound of the garage door opening alerts me, a clear sign that Greg has just arrived home. I roll over

as I hear his keys jingle and a door shut quietly. His footsteps start from a short distance. He stops a few feet away, most likely checking on Aden. Then, they start up again. I clutch my pillow, forcing my eyes shut. The door creaks open, and he walks in with a long, exhausted sigh. I should feel the urge to ask him how his day went, but I don’t. I do the worst thing a girlfriend can do—I pretend I’m sleeping. Because right now I don’t care. I just want to be left alone, drowning in my own reflections. “London?” he calls in a whisper. I ignore him, keeping my eyes sealed. I grow numb to the sound of his voice, the disappointment I hear when he realizes I’ve fallen asleep. Normally, I’d wait for him to get home but not tonight. There’s too much on my mind, and deep down, I have this gut feeling, almost like something just isn’t right. My mind should be at rest. All of the problems are supposed to be gone, but here I am, stressing myself out over a few pictures and a newspaper article. The bed dips as Greg climbs beneath the sheets. I prepare for him to press against me, and he does, inhaling my scent. I try my hardest not to flinch, breathing evenly. I moan, adding to my sleeping performance. Right now, he isn’t the man I want pressed against me. He isn’t the man I long to share my bed with. Greg sighs again, kisses my temple, and then lies back. A few minutes later, snoring commences. He’s asleep. I open my eyes, staring at the alarm clock. I watch each minute tick by; each minute takes me further and further away from what I had with him. I want to cry, but I don’t. I’m beyond that. I’m older now. Wiser. He is the past. He is dead. I must remember that. My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I lift my head, spotting a text from Bianca. I smile. I haven’t talked to her in days. She’s been a busy girl, running her

own clothing line with the money she collected from the diamonds I practically begged her to take and use for herself and her business. I open the message, expecting one of her silly reports, but instead, what she says catches me totally off guard. My heart stumbles over its beats. I stifle, go numb. I can’t blink. I can’t move. I can’t do anything because I can’t fucking believe it. Bianca: He’s alive.





Glamorous – Fergie One day ago She still hasn’t learned, my baby cousin. You’d think she’d know by now to maintain a low profile, but it wasn’t hard finding her. I knew, after all the shit that went down, that Bianca would find her own moneymaking tactic and be happy doing it. She’d had that established before she ever decided to leave me and the Crow business behind. I lower my black baseball cap over my browline, standing behind the massive crowd of reporters before her. Apparently, it’s two nights before a big fashion show of hers. Cameras are all over the place. Models. Reporters. Everyone is here for Bianca Love. She no longer goes by Bianca Crow. Ironic. She was the last of us, and she destroyed what was left of it, killing Crow. She points to a man a few feet to my right. I lower my head. After she answers his question, the conference comes to a rapid conclusion. I watch as she trots across the stage, waving at a few fans behind the short metal gates. Then, she meets with a man I thought I’d never set eyes on again, an old business partner. An old but very wise friend. His tall frame looms over her, almost protectively. Maurice Grimes. My eyes expand, pleased to see she’s being taken care of. He kisses her rosy cheek,

escorting her to the black SUV waiting up front. I push through the crowd, making my way back to the Bentley I bought as soon as I tossed that piece of shit Cadillac. Once I start the car, I follow the truck, keeping my distance. The truck comes to a stop six blocks away. Maurice steps out first, offering a hand to Bianca as he says something. She steps out, laughing as she tightens her cheetah-print scarf around her neck, fighting the Jersey breeze. I shut the car off, watching them enter the fancy restaurant. Looking down at my faded jeans and the blue T-shirt, I realize this casual attire won’t do. I collect the car keys, stuff them in my pocket, and make my way to the Men’s Warehouse right across the street. I’m fitted into a nice grey and navy blue suit with a matching grey tie. I’ve lost a few pounds. Doesn’t matter. “Think you can get me a few more suits in this size?” I ask the salesman. “Of course I can, Mr. Crow.” “Good. I’m going right across the street, but I’ll be back for them.” He nods his head, ducking off immediately to start his hunt. I take a final look in the mirror, glad I decided to get a haircut before meeting her. I look like me again. Solid. Real. Ace fuckin’ Crow. Adjusting my tie, I step out of the store and walk across the street. I enter the restaurant, its modern setting a place I know Bianca is fascinated with. I spot her and Maurice at a table in the corner. From the host, I request a table near them. At first, he’s hesitant, but after convincing him that Bianca is my cousin, allowing him to spot the resemblance, and also tossing in a one hundred dollar bill, he concedes, leading me to a table right behind theirs. I purposely hide my face, keeping my back to them. I’m lucky they’re chatting. She laughs. Oh, how

I’ve missed her laugh. Although obnoxious and quite annoying, I’ve missed it. “So you’ll be at the show?” Bianca asks Maurice. “You won’t be called in for work?” “I took off, babe. Wouldn’t miss it.” She giggles. I hear a smooching noise, the sound of a kiss being shared. “I wanted London to come,” she whines. My heart stills at the sound of her name. “I called her a few days ago, but she says Greg is busy, and Aden has a doctor ’s appointment tomorrow morning.” Greg and Aden? Who the fuck are Greg and Aden? Fuck, please don’t tell me she had a kid with another man? I grab the fork in front of me, squeezing until it hurts. “Well, she’s busy, babe. I’m sure she wanted to come.” “Hmm… I know. But, still. I need to go visit. I miss them.” She pauses. “God every time I see him I see so much of Ace,” she whispers. I blink. And then it hits me. Holy fucking shit. This… this can’t be… but how? “He’s so adorable,” Bianca continues, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s kind of scary when you look at him for too long.” “I bet,” Maurice says with a laugh. I turn my head a fraction, disbelieving my ears. I know this is my chance to speak up. It’s now or never. “You know what’s even scarier?” I ask, placing my arm on the back of my chair and twisting. “Seeing someone you thought was gone forever, enter your life all over again.” From the unforeseen sound of my voice, Bianca’s shoulders tense, and from here, I can see her entire face has turned ghost-white. Maurice lifts his head, staring at me as if he’s staring at the devil himself. I turn in my seat, and slowly, Bianca turns her head, eyes broad and bulging. She stares at me, and she doesn’t blink for quite some time. Maurice remains in his seat just as motionless. Her eyelashes bat, her honey-brown gaze

securing mine. Then, she whispers in a stutter, “Aace?” I press my lips to smile. She stands from her seat, tears smarting her eyes. I open my arms, and without a moment to waste, she runs into them, clashing into me. I stagger, but she clings on, allowing me to steady myself. I hug her back, kissing the top of her head. “Ace, what the fuck?” she breathes. “Holy shit! I can’t believe this!” she cries. A few people look our way, turning their noses up. “Unbelievable, huh?” She pulls back, staring up at me. She touches my face, squeezes my cheeks, and runs her hands through my hair. “Ace…” Tears stream. “Ace… oh my God. I-I can’t believe this. When…? How the living fuck…? I don’t understand.” Her voice is louder this time—wavering, but louder. She’s astounded, unsure of how to react. I shrug. “I thought you were dead… we all thought you were… dead. We saw the pictures of the burnt body, your clothes. Jewelry... everything,” she breathes. “The cops said it was you. They confirmed it through autopsy and everything.” “All a set up,” I mutter. “They were paid to lie.” Maurice walks around the table, interrupting Bianca’s next round of questions. “I told her. I knew you were still out there. I just had a feeling.” He steps forward, giving his tightest brotherly hug. “I knew a man like Ace Crow wasn’t going down without making it known.” “Screw dinner,” Bianca says, snatching up her purse. We’re going back to our hotel and ordering room service. I cannot believe this—I mean… shit! We have wayyyy too much to talk about. Oh my… fuck,” she breathes, looking me over. “I seriously cannot believe this.” She runs into my arms again. “I know you hate hugging but… holy shit, I thought you were gone, Ace. I thought I lost you… for a while I didn’t know what to do.” She steps back, another thick

tear lining her cheek. She swipes it away before it gets too noticeable then grabs my hand. “Come to my hotel. We can’t chat here. Too many cameras around, and you never know who’s listening.” “London… Where is she?” She looks from me to Maurice. Maurice looks away, refusing to partake in the conversation. “Bianca?” I call, my voice firm. “She’s in California, Ace.” Still alive. I collect some peace of mind. “Is she okay?” “She’s fine.” “Where in California?” I ask. “Creole. Ace, she’s—” I cut her off before she can say anymore. From the look in her eyes, I can tell what she’s about to tell me will most likely kill my entire mood. I can’t get pissed in public. I need to keep a low profile. I want to know more as soon as possible, but catching up with Bianca about Bianca first is best. Something light to prepare me for the devastation. The heartbreak. Fuck. She squeezes my hand, revealing a gentle smile. I force one back, and we follow Maurice out to the truck, quieter than we’ve ever been before. *** The hotel is quaint and simple, the complete opposite of my baby cousin. It’s considered a four star hotel, and I assume that’s good enough for her. As we enter their room, Bianca sighs and flips a switch. A dim light sparks in the center as I shut the door behind me. “Who told you to get famous without me?” I ask, smirking as I tuck my fingers in my pockets and follow their lead to the sitting area. Maurice chuckles as he takes the chair with the ottoman, and Bianca taps the spot beside her, gesturing for me to sit. “I’m pretty sure I told you at least a thousand times that I could make it on my own.” She grins. I sit, adjusting my tie. “And I’m not famous, just well-

known. You know, I wish it wasn’t that way. I wish people would just focus on my work and designs more than they focus on my personal life.” She rolls her eyes. Maurice laughs, standing from his seat and making his way to the mini bar in the corner. “I told her the fast life wasn’t for her. No privacy. The price you pay when you want success.” He lifts a glass, offering. I nod. “So when did this happen?” I ask, looking from Maurice, as he hands me my drink, to Bianca. “Well I got the plans for the line started about two and a half years ago, but it didn’t really kick into high gear until about a year ago.” She beams, proud. “No,” I look into her eyes, “I mean when did you two happen?” “Oh.” Bianca’s lips seal, her cheeks burning as she looks from me to Maurice. Maurice takes a casual sip of his whiskey, shrugging his shoulders as he sits again. “Right after we thought you passed,” he responds. I lick my lips and nod before taking a sip of mine. “I got a call from the condo owners. They were bugging me, asking me if I’d seen you around. They were telling me your mailbox was getting full. Me, knowing how you are, just assumed you hadn’t checked it because you were too busy handling things with Crow. But a day later, Trent called. He told me what happened, and I went to your place as soon as I heard. I wanted to be sure I wasn’t hearing shit.” She swallows hard, as if it hurts her to talk about it. An unnoticeable wince rolls off me. I hate that I hurt her. “Y-your apartment was empty,” she stammers, “… and the living room was torn to shreds. Someone was looking for something. I’m not sure what.” She glances at Maurice. “So I went to the alley to see if there was a trace of you, but there was nothing. Just outlines of dead bodies, bullet casings, and blood.” “And when you saw that, you went to the only person you knew would take you in.” My gaze travels from hers to his.

Maurice gives his head a quick bob. “She needed me. You’re like family to me. You know that. She wasn’t the only one that felt like they lost someone.” “I appreciate that.” “Anyway,” Bianca continues, “…this is the rough part.” I swallow thickly, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. I’m unbelievably weak when it comes to her, but I won’t pussy out. I won’t lower my head in shame. It was my fault the shootout happened, and for that, I must pay the bill. “I had to tell London,” she murmured. “Trent told me he flew her to Greece the same night you were supposedly dead. I grabbed your mail everyday until your lease gave out. It was around the second month after you died when she started sending letters to your place. She was telling you exactly where she was staying, how much she missed you, how she would wait for you as long as she had to, and then…” Bianca’s voice trails off, and she immediately presses a hand to her mouth, her big brown eyes glistening. “And then what?” I squeeze the cool crystal glass in my hand. “Uh… she sent this one letter about how she wasn’t feeling well and how she’d been vomiting, eating less, and feeling a little nauseated. She assumed it was from traveling to a new place and also missing you. Homesickness or whatever. You were the only thing on her mind. I wasn’t strong enough to tell London. I was going to wait it out and hope that she’d move on with her life, but, of course, she didn’t, and I couldn’t leave it that way because two weeks later, she sent a letter stating she was pregnant.” My head tilts. “Pregnant?” I breathe. I don’t know why I’m so astonished. I knew, after hearing Bianca say he looked like me that she carried my child, but it really settles in now. She wasn’t kidding earlier. I wasn’t hearing shit. London did it on her own. She was alone, by herself, caring for a child that I should’ve been there for. “Aden?” I whisper. “That’s

his name?” “Yes!” Bianca whispers loudly. “Yes, Aden.” “Does he know about me?” Bianca’s smile collapses, and her mascaraed eyelashes flutter. I know by that look alone what the answer is. She realizes I’ve seen the answer in her eyes and goes on to say, “It’s not that he won’t know about you one day. London is just waiting for the perfect time. With Greg around, she doesn’t want to confuse his little mind—” “Greg?” I snap, fists clenching. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that fucking name. Who the fuck is he?” Her lips seal. “Who. Is. He. Bianca?” I try keeping my voice even, but it’s impossible. I know the answer to my own question, and I’m not sure why I’m willing to torment myself with her awaited response. Hearing it will destroy me. Knowing another man is taking care of my woman… my Red. I slam my glass down and ball my hands into fists as I rise, turning towards the door. “Creole, that’s what you said?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at her. Bianca stands as well, marching around to look me in the eye. “Ace, she’s happy with Greg,” she snaps. “You can’t just barge into her life after three years of being absent. What did you expect? That she’d actually stay in denial and wait for you forever? We saw what we thought was proof! She had no choice but to move on.” I grunt, pissed, turning away. Bianca snatches me back around, and after three years of growing accustomed to being tossed around my automatic reaction is a snarl. From the corner of my eye, I see Maurice stand and fold his arms. I cock a brow at him. He shakes his head, silently telling me to remain calm. “Ace,” Bianca whispers, gripping my arms. “Trust me, I know you want her back. I know you miss her, and I know you want to see her… but put yourself in her shoes for just a second. Realize

that she had a child she had to be happy for. A child that is a spitting image of you, and she has to live with seeing his face—your face—for the rest of her life. She couldn’t raise him on her own. I helped the first two years, until she was ready to be on her own, and now she’s stronger. She’s better,” she breathes, a faint smile on her lips. “She was so depressed at one point that I had to take Aden away for a solid two weeks just so she could pull her shit together.” I lower my gaze, standing down. I know Bianca means no harm. She’s always looked out for my best interest, but this? Fuck. This is torture. I know where she is. I know she’s still out there. I have to see her. “Look, I’m sure London would LOVE to see you, but you and I both know that isn’t wise right now. She’s just now gaining some steadiness in her life. We can’t take that away from her. Let’s not rock the boat.” I peer at Maurice whose shoulders have softened a touch. I then look down at Bianca. Her eyes are pleading, begging me not to do anything outrageous. Well, she knows why I’m here. She knows part of my return is to find London, the first girl I ever fell in love with. The first woman to steal my heart right away from me and run with it. The first girl that allowed me to open up like I never had before—like a clam with a pearl trapped inside, waiting to be discovered. The first girl of many things. Sighing, I say, “You know, I waited two months before finally coming to talk to you. I watched you for two months just to see if London would appear one day. I waited for her.” She frowns, lowering her hands and taking a small step back. “I’m done waiting. I need to see her, and you now have two options. One: you can take me to her, with or without a warning, and let me talk to her myself, or two: you don’t take me to her, I find her on my own, and we never speak again. I will get to her regardless, Bianca. You know that.” My face remains solid, shoulders hunched. “What’s it gonna be?” Her forehead creases. Unsure, she switches glances between me and Maurice, but in only a

second, she sighs and steps back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ace, you know I can’t lose you again.” She looks up. “I just got you back.” She folds her arms, giving the choice a final thought. “Alright, I’ll take you to her, but you have to promise to behave.” I adjust my tie as she pokes a stern, manicured fingernail at my chest. “We both know I gave up keeping promises a long time ago. Take me to her. Tonight.”





Love Without Tragedy - Rihanna Splashes of yellow, orange, and pink light up the sky. With my glass clutched in hand, the cool California breeze tousling my hair, I stare ahead at the setting sun, gaze forward, mind drowning in confusion. He’s back? But… how? I was told… I saw… everything. There’s no way he’s alive. But this is a subject Bianca would never joke about. She would never bring him up as a game knowing how I felt about him. From what I can recall—from what I know— Ace is dead. I was there. I saw the autopsy. I saw it all. “Miss Stallone,” FBI agent Wales called my name as we waited outside the Commissioner’s office. It’d taken me months to pull myself together before I was finally strong enough to come back from Greece for the truth. I whipped my head up, swiping at my eyes as I stood to my feet. “Yes?” My eyes locked with his, and his immediately became apologetic. “You requested to collect the ashes?” “I did,” I stated. “Well, due to how much of a threat Donovan Crow was to us, I’m afraid we won’t be able to allow that. There are still tests we have to run, things we must do with his remains like matching them with other suspects, former crimes, so on.” My eyebrows stitched, and Bianca stood from her

chair, stepping past me. “What do you mean you can’t allow it?” she snapped, stabbing a finger at his chest. “That is my cousin! My family! He was not the criminal you all made him out to be! We deserve to take his remains with us and arrange a proper ceremony! He was a little fucked up, yes, but he was still human. Stop treating him like he was a monster!” “Miss Crow, I understand why you’re upset, and I wish we could—” “No, you will get me his ashes!” she demanded I muted out everything else they argued about. We didn’t get the ashes, no matter how hard Bianca argued or how much she protested or threatened them. She could’ve been locked up and tossed in jail, but they let her off easy. They knew who Ace Crow was. His case was confidential. A few days later, I received a call from a guiltridden Agent Wales who informed me that he could share the autopsy with me at a private place but that was all I could see. So I met him at a small diner on 6th. “Miss Stallone,” Wales murmured, extending his arm and sliding the envelope across the table. “It took me a lot of work to get this out of the office. They want this case to remain as confidential as possible, seeing as Crow was a huge threat to the city. You can understand why we had to reject your requests?” Numb, I asked, “There are no ashes, are there?” Avoiding the question, Wales lowered his gaze, recoiling. “I have fifteen minutes to get back to the NYPD. Read it quickly. I could get fired if I’m caught with this.” I opened the envelope quickly, craving to know what really happened. Small words popped out that meant way too much. Shootout. Mass homicide. Gang/mafia related. Three gun wounds. Burned.

Donovan Crow, also know as “Ace” Crow and leader of the drug related gang Crow, is considered deceased. With quaking hands, I placed the sheet of paper back down, looking up into Agent Wales’s eyes. I couldn’t see him clearly. My eyes clouded with thick tears, but I refused to unleash them in front of him. “Thank you, Agent Wales. I think I’ve seen all the proof I needed. I’ll inform Bianca. She won’t be a problem anymore.” He nodded, taking the paper and tucking it back in the manila envelope. “May I ask you a question?” Wales asked just as I stood and wrapped my satchel around me. “S-sure.” “What was he to you? We knew about Bianca Crow being his cousin, his men, and his drivers, but nothing about you.” He glanced at my protruding belly, and, insecurely, I covered it up with my jacket. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. Would they get the idea to watch me if I told them who I was and that I was carrying Ace’s child? They would assume I’d tell my kid to rebuild Crow. They didn’t need to know. That was my business, so I simply said, “He was just a really close friend, Agent Wales.” And then I took off, not once looking back. “London?” I spin around, matching the familiar voice with Greg who steps onto the balcony, his tall frame towering over mine. His hair is a floppy, beautiful mess. He smells of men’s body wash and aftershave. He’s changed from his suit to a plain white tank and sweat pants. He looks comfortable. “I was looking for you. You alright?” I nod, turning a fraction in hopes he doesn’t look into my eyes. Greg always spots the truth. He’s an interrogator and a damn good one. It’s in his blood. “Yeah, I’m fine. Aden’s asleep?” “Yep. Fell asleep watching Yo Gabba Gabba,” he chuckles, stepping behind me and wrapping his large

arms around my waist. I tense, but clearly not enough for him to notice because he proceeds, placing his chin on top of my shoulder, sighing. “It’s nice out here.” “Yeah.” My voice is faint, my face stale. Greg keeps one arm wrapped around me and releases the other, taking the short glass out of my hand. “It’s only six-thirty. Drinking already?” I don’t respond. I don’t know how. Alerted by my silence, Greg pulls away and spins me around, looking me over. I don’t meet his eyes. Damn it. Why is it so hard for me to pull my shit together? I used to be so good at faking it. But how can I fake this? Knowing that Ace Crow, the first man I ever fell head over heels for, is still alive? Is it even true? Maybe Bianca knew he wasn’t dead and was keeping it a secret from me. Did Bianca betray me? Did she know he was alive? I hope not. She’s been so close and dear to me. My mind is so clustered and so damn foggy that I don’t even know how to act. “London,” Greg whispers, his head tilting. “Talk to me.” He cups my face, running the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” My response is rapid. “I’ve just had a really long day.” His eyebrows glue together. “You’re upset.” I look up at him. “With me?” he questions. “No.” I shake my head, draping my arms around his neck. I bring him close, inhaling his woodsy scent. He rubs circles on my back, and I can admit that, before the text message I received last night, the gesture used to comfort me, but now, it makes me feel like rubbish. Trash. This is no longer romantic. This is me faking it. I know what I need to do to stop getting him to ask questions. If he keeps digging, keeps inquiring, then he’ll realize something is wrong, and I’ll be screwed. Bianca never responded to me after that life-altering text. What if it was just a joke? What if she was just testing me, seeing how I would react and if I was truly over him?

Tilting my chin, I stare into Greg’s arctic blue eyes. He smiles down at me, the small wrinkles I adore forming around his cheeks. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait up for you last night,” I whisper. “Don’t be. We had a long day. I should be the one apologizing.” He strokes my cheek. “I wasn’t supposed to work yesterday. That was our day.” “It’s okay. Really.” I force a light laugh, and fortunately, he laughs with me. “Come on,” he says, reaching for my hand and turning towards the balcony door. “Let’s go back inside, drink wine, eat popcorn, and watch movies until I’m called in again. Because you and I both know I will be summoned.” He quirks a boyish grin. “It’s only a matter of time. Let’s cherish it.” I nod. “You’re right.” He turns for the door, leading the way inside, my hand still in his. Along the way, my smile disappears, but when Greg glances back to check on me, I force another. Come on, London. Get it together. After grabbing a bottle of red Stella Rosa Rosso and dumping a bag of fresh, hot popcorn in a bowl, Greg sits on the couch, tugging me down with him. I land on the center of his lap, and he kisses my cheek, his stubble grazing. I smile, turning only slightly to cuddle into the warmth of his broad chest. He sighs, flipping the channels until he catches a random movie—one I’m sure neither of us will watch. After placing the remote down, he murmurs, “You know you can tell me anything, London.” I look up just as he looks down. His fingers run through my hair, the act of affection causing my eyes to glisten. I place my ear to his chest before he can spot my tears. “I know.” Silence. Only brief. “I love you, London. I hope you know that. I know you’ve had a rough past. I know you’ve lost many, but you won’t lose me. That’s a promise.” I hug him tight. “I know,” I say again, and really, I do know. He’s made this promise to me over a dozen

times. He repeats the mantra over and over again, and a part of me likes hearing it because I don’t need to lose anyone else. I don’t want anyone to be taken away from me. I took all the others for granted. Jonah. Mom. Dad. Ace. But not Greg or Aden or even Bianca. I won’t take them for granted. I told Greg about Jonah and my parents. But I never once mentioned Ace, and I figure he knows there was a guy before. I mean, hello? Where the hell did Aden come from? The memories of Ace seize me. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I’m not too edgy for Greg to notice. Several minutes later and an exhausted Greg fills the living room with loud snoring. I glance up, pleased. I’ve been waiting for this moment. For a small ounce of freedom. I sit up and slowly ease off his lap, snatching my cellphone out of my pocket as I walk out the balcony door in the kitchen and lap around the pool. The water reflects onto me, and I glance down. I stare at my reflection, wondering just what the hell I’m doing. Am I really going to do this? Even if it is true, am I really willing to punish myself? I have it good here. I have Greg. Greg is good. He does his best to keep me whole. He’s the perfect man to be with after such harsh tragedies. Why destroy that over one phone call? I look towards the open balcony door. The ivory curtains flap with the wind. My lower belly bubbles with heat. Swallowing the brick in my throat, I trot down the stairs that lead to the beach, press call, and place the phone to my ear. There’s a quick answer. “Bianca,” I breathe. “Please tell me you were joking. Please tell me you were kidding!” The howling wind and clashing waves overpower my

voice, and I’m glad. I’m at boiling point. I need to calm down. My rage can’t ruin our bond. “London… I… He is…. There is still time… I didn’t know…” Her voice cracks over the line, and I curse out loud, lifting the phone in the air for a signal. “Shit,” I hiss when the call fails. I know she’s busy today. I know her show is tomorrow and the last thing I want to do is distract her from getting ready, but she didn’t send that message for no apparent reason. Why would she say that? Why would she do this to me? It was either a warning or a mistake. Maybe, after all these years, she’s finally grown sick and tired of me and no longer wants to be a part of my life? Maybe she’s using the most powerful weapon she has against me… Ace. Maybe she’s finally decided to forget about the past and move on with her life for good. I mean, every time we see each other, we mention him. Perhaps she’s tired of remembering. My eyes welt with thick, hot tears. I lower the phone, rattled, unhinged. But then, I hear the crunch of footsteps along the cool sand. The steps are soft, but I hear them clearly. I look up, spotting a tall silhouette approaching. It’s late. Ever since that night in New York, I feel no place is really safe, so I start to run back for my house, but the person calls my name. I halt. Gasp. That voice… it’s familiar. My eyes are the widest they’ve ever been. “Don’t run. You’re safe,” he murmurs over the howl of the wind. “Turn around.” My hands are cold, but my blood is boiling— whooshing in my ears. My throat tingles. I’m not sure what I’m feeling. But I give in. I turn. I want to believe my eyes have deceived me, but I know they haven’t. They couldn’t have because, in the flesh, is the man I fell so dangerously hard for three years ago. In the flesh, is the man that fell for me, the man that

sacrificed his life and friends for my sake. The man that is supposed to be dead. Before me is the man I never thought I’d lay eyes on again. With his hands tucked in the pockets of his grey slacks, his smile so wickedly handsome beneath the pale moonlight, he deeply murmurs, “It’s been a while, Red.” And I can’t believe myself, my body’s reaction, but from the sound of his highly intoxicating voice, I clench like never before. One last step and I can finally see him clearly. He looks the same, if not better. A little skinny and a little more rugged, like he’s been through hell and back, but better. Sexier. Sleeker. Breathtaking. “Ace.” I release a sharp gasp. My head spins. My gut churns. My body starts to rock back and forth. I’m losing the battle with gravity. He realizes what’s happening, and I think I’ve completely lost my mind because the last thing I hear him say is my name before I fall backwards. My eyes shut, and I fade into darkness. *** The warm stretch of horizon sun stretches across the ceiling. My heavy eyelids flutter, and a soft groan fills my throat. A replay of last night flashes in mind, and I sit up with haste, observing the bedroom. I frown. I’m in the bedroom. How the hell am I in the room? I saw him last night… I saw… “Finally awake, sleepy head!” Bianca’s voice chimes as she enters the room with a wet washcloth. My head whips to meet her brown eyes. My frown grows tighter. “Took quite a fall last night, missy,” she says, wiping my forehead and cheek with the warm cloth. “Bianca?” My throat is dry, causing my voice to crack. “What are you doing here? What happened?” Her eyes soften a touch as she looks me over. When she meets my gaze, she sighs and sits on the

edge of the bed beside me. The bed dips, but I adjust myself, giving her my undivided attention. “Last night,” I whisper. “I know I may miss the hell out of him, but I’m not insane. I saw him… and that text you sent—” “He’s here.” Her serious tone cuts me off. My eyes stretch with disbelief. “He’s here?” I repeat. She nods, pursing her lips. “I know it sounds fucking insane, but he’s here, London. He’s back. Ace…” her voice becomes throaty and theatric, “…he never died. That gut feeling you had was right all along. He. Never. Died.” Her eyes glisten, the glossiness sparkling from the rising sun. “He’s… holy shit,” I hold my hands up in front of me for a quick pause, stunned. “…he’s here. Ace is here? Our Ace?” “Our Ace,” she murmurs. She glances over her shoulder, listening to the clanking of dishes coming from the kitchen downstairs. My eyebrows draw together, and I hop out of the bed, rushing to the door. “Is that him?” I ask. I rush down the hallway and hurry down the stairs. “No, London—shit!” She chases after me, catching my elbow and whirling me around before I can round the corner and enter the kitchen. “Can you just calm the hell down and think things through for a second?!” Her mascaraed eyelashes bat at me, and she releases my arm, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why would Ace be in your home? In the kitchen that you share with Greg?” I blink and swallow hard, dumbfounded. I then lean to my right, stealing a peek in the kitchen. Over the sink, I spot Greg, wearing his usual white buttondown and black slacks. His suit jacket is hanging on the back of a chair at the table. Bianca drags me back upstairs to the bedroom, forces me to sit on the bedroom bench, and shuts the door behind her quietly. “You’re lucky Greg didn’t find you out on the lounge chairs. I got here before the sun rose. I was already on my way. I told Ace I

was right behind him.” She blows out a heavy sigh. “I took Aden to his appointment and then dropped him off at daycare. He’ll be there for a few hours… until you pull your shit together.” I stare up at her. Blinking is out of the question. I feel like I’ve encountered a ghost. But he’s here, and when I passed out last night, that means he brought me up to the lounge chairs. Bianca rubs her face and then tucks her hair behind her ears as she sits beside me. “Greg told me he heard you go out for some air last night, so he went to bed. Figured you needed some alone time. He thinks you came back in and fell asleep on the couch. After all, that’s where Maurice ended up dragging you to. You got lucky on this one. We don’t need Greg getting suspicious. Not now.” Oh forget Greg! He isn’t the one I’m worried about. “Ace.” I turn in her direction. “Did he say anything?” She gives me a blatant look. “He didn’t want to leave your side, but I got him to think straight and leave eventually.” “W-will he be back?” “I’m more than certain he’ll be back.” I stand to my feet, pacing in front of her. “I need to see him,” I state. “I need to talk to him. It’s been so long. I need to know what happened.” She groans, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Do you really think that’s wise?” I stop pacing, frowning down at her. “Bianca, this is Ace we’re talking about. He’s the father of my child—” “And he hasn’t changed, London!” she snaps, rising from the bench. Her cheeks redden embarrassingly when she realizes how loud her tone is. She breathes evenly, her eyelashes fluttering as she recollects patience. “Ace,” she whispers. “I love him to fucking death, but he has not changed. That’s why I warned you with a text, so you’d be prepared. So you’d actually think things through and realize how good you have it now… without him. Are you really

willing to give that up for an unknown future with Ace?” Horror etches my face as I step back. My breath comes to a halt, watching as Bianca shakes her head, frustrated. “How can you say that?” I ask, my voice barely heard. “He was gone for three years, Bianca. We thought he was dead. We grieved for so long. We should be glad he’s still alive!” “I know, and I am!” She steps forward to cap my shoulders. “It’s not just you I’m thinking about, London. It’s Aden too. He deserves to meet his real father but I’m afraid it will confuse him right now. He calls Greg his dad sometimes. I didn’t tell Ace that, but once he finds out, he’ll flip shit, and I don’t want that. I don’t want him raising hell, not when things are finally going smoothly. It’s best to talk to Ace… he’ll want to, and he won’t leave until he gets the chance to, but be wise about your decisions. Okay?” “I will,” I reply quickly. But I know I won’t. I’m far from wise around Ace Crow. He stole my breath away last night. I remember. Seeing him made me lose myself. Seeing him made me ache for his touch… for his love. For every single part of his delicious body. “What are you thinking?” she asks. “How can I reach him?” “He will be back once Greg leaves…” My lips twitch. “That soon?” “Aden isn’t here. He knows that, and Greg won’t be either. He wants you alone. No distractions. It’s Ace for Christ’s sakes.” She laughs, her hair swaying at her shoulders. Flipping her wrist, she checks her silver Michael Kors watch and then curses beneath her breath. “Crap. I have a to go. I have a flight in an hour. Big show tonight.” She starts for the door, but before opening it, she pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “Be careful, London. Ace wanted to change back then, but he’s back now. He’s making a statement. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t know what he’s up to, but you and I both know Ace always has a plan. He always craves the wrong

things.” I press my knuckles to my numb lips, watching as she swings the door open and listening to her march down the stairs. She gives Greg a quick goodbye and several seconds later, the front door clicks shut behind her. Carefully, I take a seat on the cushioned bench, staring down at the polished floorboards. Moments later, Greg enters the bedroom, knocking on the door to capture my attention before stepping in. “You didn’t tell me Bianca would be coming by,” he says, tucking his fingers in his front pockets and smiling. “Doesn’t she have a show or something tonight?” “Uh… yeah. I didn’t know she would. She wanted to surprise Aden.” “Oh. Sweet of her.” He starts my way, and I still as he reaches for me, grabbing my hands and pulling me up. He steps in, pressing against me. Tilting his head, he asks, “Are you okay? You didn’t come to bed last night.” “Yeah. I’m fine. I was watching a movie and ended up falling asleep. Some chick flick.” He laughs then places a kiss on my forehead. “You know I hate going to bed without you.” I press my lips to smile, but it feels cold and heartless. “Well…,” he pulls one arm away to check his watch, “I should get going. Gotta be at work in thirty. Traffic is always a bitch.” “Right.” I force a light laugh. Greg places a swift kiss on my cheek, and I follow him downstairs to the kitchen. He grabs his suit jacket then walks around me, smiling genuinely before opening the garage door, giving me yet another kiss on the lips, and then shutting the door behind him. Once I hear the engine of his truck roar to life and the garage gate close after him, I release a heavy breath and lean against the wall, running a hand across my face. Once I’ve gathered a small ounce of composure, I head for the kitchen, searching the inside of the cabinet for a glass. After filling it to the

rim with water from the tap, I take three full gulps and then slam the glass down, gasping for unnecessary breath. “Okay,” I whisper. “I should get ready,” I tell myself. I don’t know when he’ll show up, and I don’t know what he wants… or what will happen. I do know I’m weak for him, always have been. I’m afraid to confront him after so long. What if he finds me different? What if he’s ready to move on? What if he came back just to tell me he was alive but that we could never be together again? I sigh, staring out the window across from me. It’s a nice day. Windy. The sun is high and bold, leading the water to sparkle in its presence. It’s gorgeous. I love it here. I came for the serene atmosphere. I needed to get as far away from Virginia and New York as possible. I had to start over, and a part of me is glad I did, but the other… well, that other half still misses what used to be. Soft footsteps sound a short distance away, and I snap out of my thoughts. I begin to turn around, but when he speaks, I freeze. “The way he talks to you… kisses you… don’t like it.” That voice, deep and familiar, catches me completely off guard. My eyes bug out of my head, tendrils of my hair covering my face. I clutch the edge of the countertop. I thought I had more time— time to get ready for his appearance. Time to collect myself. But no. Here he is. Right behind me. Shit. “Look at me, London,” Ace says, his voice deep and indisputably missed. I have the urge to move, to do something, but my body refuses to budge. I’m still frozen. “W-why are you here, Ace?” My voice is barely a whisper, but he hears me. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I hear him take a step forward. The sound of my pulse pounds in my ears.

“Turn around and look at me, Red. Won’t ask again.” “Ace,” I breathe. I shut my eyes, my stance now unsteady. I find the strength to turn, but my eyes remain closed. “Open them,” he demands. “Look at me.” “I’m afraid…” “Of?” “Passing out again… you leaving… me thinking I’m insane.” “You aren’t insane.” Another step forward. “And as for me leaving,” his voice sounds closer. So real. So intimate. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that. If you pass out again, I’ll be taking you with me this time. I was being generous last night.” “So I did see you on the beach,” I muster. I slowly open my eyes, and it’s completely unexpected to see him no less than three steps away. I blink rapidly, fumbling over my own feet and bumping into the edge of the counter. “How did you get in?” “Front door was unlocked.” His head tilts with sheer curiosity. I expect him to speak, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes the last three steps forward and raises a hand to cup my cheek. Pain fills his eyes, a pain I know is indescribable. “They haven’t changed at all,” he mumbles. “What?” I’m breathless. “Your eyes. You. Still so damn beautiful.” My throat thickens in a good way, but I press my back further into the counter edge. Ace doesn’t dare back off. He cradles my face in both hands, and hot tears form at the rims of my eyes. When he realizes the emotion has set in, his face goes blank, and he says, “Don’t cry… Please. Don’t.” I try to pull away, but he refuses to release me. I can’t help my tears. For months—years—I thought he was dead. I thought another person I loved was gone for good. “Why are you crying?” he asks. I glance up, spotting that unspeakable pain again. I’m hurting him… my tears are hurting him. Damn it, London. Stop it! He’s here. He’s back. Forget

everything else for a second and relish in that! “I just… I can’t believe it. I thought—we all thought…” I release a ragged breath. Ace swipes my tears away with the pads of his thumbs, his jaw clenching. “I’ll tell you what happened after you left.” I look up, meeting his hard, honey irises. “When?” “I will. Just not now.” He lowers one hand, and without warning, he grabs my thigh and lifts my leg, wrapping it around his waist. He does the other the same, picking me up and planting my ass on the countertop. A sharp breath passes through my heavy lips; my heartbeat thunders in my chest. I’m stunned, but I don’t stop him. “Years, London.” His voice is a near growl. Erotic. Tantalizing. He spreads my legs apart, pushing his way to the center. “Way too long.” Heat bombards me when I realize his cock is pressing on my core. I clench, knowing this is wrong—damaging—but I still can’t seem to stop him. He leans in, spreading his lips to suck on my neck. I moan as my head falls back, and he grasps my hair, tugging gently while his other hand clutches my hip. He brings himself closer, thrusting his strained cock against me. I become lost—lost in the way he tastes me. Lost in the way he groans, the way he aches for me. The way I ache for him. My walls repeatedly constrict with need. I pull him closer, scratching at the back of his suit jacket. “Missed you, Red. More than any-fucking-thing.” His thrusting is rougher now. Pleasure courses through me, from my belly to my sex. I throb. But right before I completely give myself to him, my gaze points toward the portrait on the wall across from me. A picture of me holding Aden. Smiling. Resilient of all the worldly shit for once in my life. Aden… “Shit, Ace… wait,” I pant, forcing him back. He draws back, a slight frown on his face as he looks at me. “I… I can’t do this,” I whisper.

He narrows his gaze. “What are you talking about?” “I mean I can’t do this here… not when I know what awaits me once you leave.” “I told you. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere until I get you back.” I shake my head. “But that’s the thing…” He steps back, scowling. My heart cracks, but I proceed. “Greg is still here. Greg… he took me in. He took me and Aden in. I can’t betray him, not like this.” “London,” Ace’s voice is gravelly. Irritated. “I’m here for you and the child I just found out is mine. Does it look like I give a one fuck about Greg?” I hop off the counter, anger surfacing within me as well. “You may not give a shit about him, but I do! I care about him. As crazy as it may seem to you, I love him. And you left!” Shots fired. He tries keeping his face even, but I know I’ve just hurt him. I don’t care. I can’t care. I have to think about my child’s future. His happiness. It’s not just about me anymore. It’s about what’s good for him, like Bianca said. “You can’t just come into our house and make demands, Ace! You can’t come back and expect everything to fall back into place. This isn’t your world anymore. This isn’t New York. This is three years down the road and me finally pulling my life together. I have a child—your child—that I have to put first. He is what’s in my best interest now. It’s not just you anymore, Ace.” “You’re blaming me for a disappearance I had no control of?” he growls. “No control?” He stares at me with heated eyes but doesn’t respond. “Where were you?” I ask. “Away,” is all he says. “What happened?” “If I tell you now, it’ll ruin everything. I came here to forget about it for a while…” I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair. “Ace,

I’m not blaming you for anything, but showing up like this—without warning—like everything would just fall into place again. You could’ve at least called.” He steps back, but his gaze lingers. His face becomes rock solid, and fear strikes me—not fear that he may hurt me, but fear that I’ve just hurt him. He may not be showing it, but I know, somewhere inside, I’ve just whipped at his emotions, squeezed his heart. I expect him to try and hurt me back with words, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “If you don’t want me here, tell me to leave.” “W-what?” “Tell me to leave, London, and I’ll never come back. Tell me you want me gone, and I’ll be out of your way.” I narrow my eyes. “Doing what?” “Doesn’t matter. When I’m gone, it won’t be any of your concern. I will no longer be your concern.” He steps forward, nostrils flaring. I step back, meeting his heated watch. “No,” I muster. “No?” “No. I’m not telling you to leave.” “Why? That’s what you want, right? You want me to disappear again so you can pretend to be happy with that son-of-a-bitch Greg?” He presses his firm chest on mine, and his scent overwhelms me. My knees nearly buckle, but I remain steady. His mouth hovers above mine, the warmth consuming me. He watches me, his jaw locked, face as hard as stone. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, dying for his touch, for one taste, but he doesn’t provide. “I know that’s not what you want,” he murmurs, dropping his chin. His lips are a breadth away. So close. Too agonizingly tempting. “You wanted to forget about me… I know. You thought I was dead, so you wanted to forget, just like you did with your parents and Jonah.” I tip my chin, breathing shallow. “But you can’t forget me. You can pretend you’ve

forgotten about me, but I don’t care because, deep down, I know I am what you’ve been craving for, Red. I am what you’ve been seeking. I’m the only person that can truly fulfill your needs. I’m the only one you want… the only one that can make you cum with just one simple stroke.” He runs the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, tracing it so lightly and so slowly I quiver. I’m wetter now. So damp between my legs. “So, fuck Greg,” he bites in a low growl, gripping my face in his hands. I gasp as he applies pressure to his grip, just enough to express his dominance. “He isn’t who you want. I’m who you want. I’m who you need. I’m impossible for you to forget.” Heavy breathing fills the kitchen. I keep my head up, positioned in his grasp, my mind refusing to give in but my body betraying me. I waver, and my eyes start to seal. I know this is wrong. I know I should’ve kicked him out of my house when I first heard his voice, but I couldn’t. This is Ace. This is the man I love. This is a dangerous man, yes, but a man I will never drift away from. Someone I will never forget. He is all I ever wanted, and now that I have him back, I refuse to let him go again. This is a second chance, the second chance I didn’t get with my family. The second chance I deserve. I squeeze my eyes tighter, but Ace holds my chin, ordering me to look at him. I open them slowly, and when I look into his, I see sincerity. I see heart. I see longing. Pain masked with nostalgia. I see everything, and I fall face forward into a sea of yearning. I fall without wanting to be saved. I fall hard for him, all over again. Empathetically. His lips are still close, so close I can feel the heat of them. I want the light trace of his lips on mine—the hunger I know I’ll feel once he finally presses them against mine. After he releases my face, his eyes blazing, I’m finally granted what I solely desire.

Picking me up in his arms, Ace crushes my lips with a hard groan and plants my ass on the countertop. Demanding hands rip at my shorts, the fabric tearing as he yanks them down. Deep groans fill the kitchen, along with unwavering moans. After snatching at his belt, I lock my arms around his neck, and his belt jingles as his pants drop. His cock presses on my thigh, and a slight thrill swirls through me. He’s much bigger than Greg. Much thicker. Pulling me towards the counter ’s edge, his tongue toying with mine, he presses his perfect cock at my entrance, and I still. My pussy holds no resistance to him. I’m wet for him. Eager for him. I’ve been ready for him, begging for this moment to happen month after month. He slides in with ease, and, inch by inch, my lips part, recalling just how good it feels for him to be inside me. He nips at my bottom lip, and my frantic hands cup his face, hanging on for dear life as he fucks me on the counter. “Oh, Ace,” I breathe. “God, I missed this. I missed this”—I place a fervent kiss on his anxious lips—“so much,” I whisper. “So much.” He thrusts hard and quick, for every minute, for every month spent without me. Relentless pounding for every year he lost, every second, and damn if it doesn’t feel amazing. For each second I spent without him, I now refuse to hold back. “Tell me you want me to stay,” he grumbles in my ear, grabbing a handful of my hair and tilting my head back. “Tell me you want me to fight for you, because I will, Red,” he pants. “I will fucking fight for you.” I claw at his back, and before I realize it, my eyes have rolled to the back of my skull. He picks me up off the counter, gently slamming my back on the wall. Grasping my ass, he drills like there’s no tomorrow, fucking me as if his life depends on it. My body grows hot, wild. Oh, how I’ve missed him. He’s the only man that can truly satisfy me, and now that he’s back—now that I’ve gotten another taste —I know I’ve just fallen head first into his clutches. I

know, just as well as he does, that I’m not going anywhere—that I won’t let him go anywhere. “Tell me,” he urges. “Now. Tell me.” “I don’t want you to go,” I breathe. “I want you to stay. I want you, Ace. I need you.” Ace groans and stiffens. “Ahh… fuck, Red.” I know that sound. I’ve missed that sound. An unexplainable, yet thrilling noise. His thighs lock, and he stills inside me, clutching my ass tightly in his hands as he releases years of pent up frustrations and need. “Fuck, you feel so fucking amazing.” My head rolls before I press the back of it against the wall. Before pulling out and softly kissing my lips, Ace places me on my feet. I wobble a bit, forgetting just how it feels to be banged and screwed by Crow. After pulling my shorts back on and allowing Ace to adjust himself, I turn in his direction, sighing. “You can’t show up here again… not like that. Greg is—” “Captain of a police department,” he fills in for me, cocking a brow and fixing his tie. “Already know. Stupid choice, Red.” “He’s a good guy,” I say defensively. “Were you that desperate to forget about me?” I start to speak, but the words get lodged in my throat. Although I was, I don’t want to argue. Not right now. I turn around, making my way to the sink. Ace exhales and follows closely behind me, wrapping his arms across my middle. “Ace.” My voice is firm but I don’t say anything more. The feel of him behind me, the needed warmth, allows gentle flutters to take over the pit of my belly. Comforting heat consumes me, even more when he places a kiss on my shoulder and then the bend of my neck. I’m abrupt to turn in his arms, my head moving from side to side. “Why are you doing this to me?” “What? Making you remember me?” “No…” I meet his eyes. “Making me choose.” His jaw locks, caught completely off guard by my statement. I expect him to say something—anything—

but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls away, allowing a gap to form between us. “Should go.” He turns, but I catch his elbow, spinning him back around with a scowl. “No, Ace. Why?” “You wouldn’t understand.” “Try and explain,” I beg. He looks me over, and after moments of watching my face, his is sullen. The kitchen fills with a silence that nearly suffocates me. It doesn’t happen often, but his face saddens, and for once, he’s not quite sure what to say. “The pain,” he whispers, fighting with words. “The pain I see in your eyes, London. That’s because of me.” He turns in my direction, holding my face in his hands. “I want you back. I want my son in my life, but I know how hard that will be for you— coming back to me, a man who’s clearly no good for you.” I stare at him, confused, and as he starts to pull away, I realize what he’s trying to say. “Ace,” I call in a whisper. “I see what you have here, Red.” He lets out a dry laugh, taking a quick sweep of the kitchen with his eyes. “I see how hard you worked to really move on.” I rush for him, cupping his face and locking my gaze with his. “No… you don’t understand,” I say, tears burning my eyes. “You don’t understand that I’m still not over you. I’ve never gotten over you. Greg is just a—” My mouth clamps shut. Reality sets in, and I stop myself before I say what I really mean. I can’t admit that… not to Ace. As if he already knows what was about to be said, Ace tilts his head and cocks a brow. “Distraction?” I drop my hands, refusing to confirm. He scans me through thin eyelids. I step back and look away, and luckily, he doesn’t continue the conversation. Instead, he flicks his wrist to check his watch. “Picking you up at six,” he says as he steps back. My eyebrows stitch when I look up. “No, Ace, you’re not. I can’t just leave when I please anymore —” “You will. Either you come with me or I come

back in here.” I scoff. “You’re kidding.” “Serious, babe. You know me. I’d break up a happy home for my own… even though you aren’t exactly happy here.” “I’m satisfied. That’s good enough.” I fold my arms. “Ten times better than mourning over someone that wasn’t even dead.” Ace lets out a smooth laugh that warms me up inside, taking a few more steps back. “Tonight at six. Be ready. Hire a sitter for my son.” Hesitation masks his face. He lifts his head a fraction. “I need to meet him.” “Soon.” His lips press thin, and his eyes flash from the beaming sun flooding in through the window behind. “Just… not yet, Ace. He’s a child. He’s young. I don’t want to confuse him. The only male role model he knows right now is Greg.” He blinks a few times before staring at me with utter disbelief. I’m sure that hurt to hear. I want to make him feel better about what I’ve just said, but I’m uncertain what to say. I’m sure it hurts to know his son considers another man his father. It hurts him to know Aden is looking up to someone else. Even though I want to say so much more, I’m not given the opportunity because Ace stalks out of the kitchen, and on his way out the front door, he says, “Six sharp, London. I mean it. Much to discuss.”





Man On The Moon – Kid Cudi “What are you getting dressed for?” Bianca asks as I make my way to the bathroom. She runs her eyes up and down my frame, scrunching her nose. “Lavender? Why lavender? That’s definitely not you.” I glance down at my tie, pressing my lips before looking up. “Wanted to wear a softer color for her.” Her eyes cloud with sorrow. “Aw, Ace,” she coos. She stands from the bed, making her way towards me. She takes the untied tie from around my neck and then trots to the closet, picking through the variety. “London isn’t as soft as she used to be, you know.” She switches gazes between a teal and a magenta tie. “She’s become solid in a way.” She goes with the magenta and pulls down a black, Italian cut suit. “Ahh, this is perfect for her.” “Why do you say that?” I ask as she stuffs the outfit in my hand. “About London…” She folds her arms, stepping back. “A lot has changed since then, Ace.” “Clearly,” I mutter, turning around and entering the bathroom. “I just think she’s tougher now. I meant nothing by it. I know a part of her tough exterior was because she thought she lost you, plus she has someone to remain strong for. She’s lost so many. She has no choice but to be.” “Hmm.” Bianca’s lips twist as she uncrosses her arms. “Can

I ask you something?” “If it’s about me taking her out, no. And aren’t you supposed to be in New Jersey?” “Flight was delayed. I have my assistant getting things ready. The show starts at ten, so I’m going to be a little late, but I’ll be out of here in a few.” She waves the topic off. “But it’s not that.” “What is it?” “Your death… why was it staged? And who took you? Whose ashes were used for the autopsy?” I look down at her, reliving the nightmare. Anger surfaces as memories flood me, and I clench my fists. “Tell me where the money is! All your connections with the trade! Tell me!” West barked, bringing his calloused hands to my neck. He held on tight, nearly strangling me. I choked for air, but I refused to beg for mercy. “Tell me where the motherfucking money is!” He released me, and I gasped, buckling forward with the shackles locked tight around my wrist. I wheezed, rasping a quick, “Fuck you, you fat, sloppy bitch.” Anger captured West, and a heavy, solid fist slammed into my face, causing me to crash into the wall and black out for hours. “There are things we should leave in the past,” I tell Bianca before shutting the bathroom door in her face. “Ace,” she calls, but I ignore her, locking it behind me. She calls my name again, rattling the doorknob to get in, but I turn the faucet on, hoping to drown out her pleading voice with the white noise. Eventually, she gives up, and I exhale, clutching the edge of the sink. I squeeze the cool porcelain until my fingers go numb, shutting my eyes and breathing unevenly. I pant. My body vibrates with rage. I’m tormented by three years of being beaten, abused, and belittled. I’m fucked up, that’s for damn sure. At one point, I thought I’d be in that cell forever.

I hated thinking negatively because I always sought a way out of a bad situation one way or another. I guess the only good thing that came out of being raised by Bruce was the fact that he didn’t raise a quitter. His taunting became of good use to me. But West is dead. He’s gone, but I know he was working with someone. A “bigger shark” as he put it. This is why I find it hard to trust anyone. I just can’t help but wonder who would be bold enough to try and take me down and think I wouldn’t look into it when I made it out alive? Obviously someone I know, otherwise they would’ve had West kill me. Someone who knows my weaknesses. Someone who wants my business and is willing to wait patiently for it. Someone who knows I have secrets of the trade and needs them. That is the only reason I’m still breathing. Someone who would rather see me suffer than die. A knock sounds on the door, and my eyes pop open as Maurice speaks up. “Ace, you all good in there, man?” “Fine,” I call. I turn the faucet off, change into the suit Bianca handpicked for me, and after spraying on some cologne, I stare into the mirror. A crooked smile takes over my lips when I realize I’m back. I’m fucking back. Those three years now mean nothing. They were a minor set back—a set back I honestly deserved—but I’m here. And soon, my empire will be bigger than it ever was before. My kingdom will be impenetrable. Unbreakable. Indestructible. This time, I’ll be sure of it. But first, I need my Red. I need her back in my life for good. What’s the point of ruling a kingdom if there’s no queen to share it with? She is my queen. My soulmate. My life. She may feel stuck—torn—but I’ll fix that. I will get her back. I don’t care if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.

*** Streetlights flicker past, and I flip my wrist to check my Rolex. 5:54. “How much longer?” I ask the driver. “Not too long, Mr. Crow. We’ll be there at exactly six. I give you the go ahead right now to fire me if we aren’t.” Max chuckles, clutching the wheel and glancing in the rearview mirror at me. I stare back out the window. I was nervous as hell earlier, walking in on London. I wasn’t sure how she would react to me walking in so boldly, or seeing me period. But I knew a woman like London needed that. She needed me to charge in. She needed me to show her exactly what she’s missed—what she’s longed for. That nothing between us has changed. A smile tingles at my lips when I remember just how good it felt to be inside her again. After so many years, stroking into her wet and eager pussy felt miraculous. I was dying to do so much more, but I had to control myself. I had to leave her hanging. I had to give her space and let her think. I know she’ll be walking out of her front door and coming to me at six. And as Max pulls up to the curb and the door swings open as I look towards the house, I smirk. London is a girl of risks. She’s a lover of the unknown. I am the unknown. She stops in front of the door, adjusting her dress before tucking her black clutch beneath her armpit. Her sequined, black dress shimmies around her curves as she trots toward the truck. Max starts to get out of the car, but I stop him. “Got it,” I say before pushing out of the car. The California breeze brushes past me as I walk around the front of the car. I breathe in the salty air, allowing it to relax me. London stops walking just before reaching the last step, her hazel eyes wide. “Coming?” I ask, reaching for the door handle. Her lips part as if she wants to speak. I pull back, turning face-forward in her direction. Just as I begin

to say something, her heels click across the pavement, and she steps past me, pulling the car door open herself. “Let’s just go.” I step back. Once she’s inside, I close the door behind her. With half a smile on my lips, I make my way back around the truck, pulling open the door and sliding in. Max pulls off immediately, rolling the privacy window up and giving me a quick wink before doing so. Those were the orders I’d given him, but I’ve never had a driver so cheesy. London whips her head, glaring at the window before looking at me. “Why is he doing that?” “Because I told him to.” “Why?” “Because we need privacy.” She lowers her head. “Ace, we can’t have privacy. What happened earlier… that wasn’t supposed to happen.” “Don’t lie to yourself.” Her head drops, and her auburn hair curtains around her face. I can’t see her, but I don’t look away. “I’ve been feeling guilty ever since it happened. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.” “Feeling what way, London?” “Like I’m breaking…” She looks up, meeting my eyes. “I was doing good… getting better. Taking life one-step at a time. But now… now it’s all a fucked up, jumbled, complicated mess again. Now,” her head shakes swiftly as she snatches her gaze away, “…I don’t know what the hell to do anymore.” Other than the radio quietly playing in the background, all is silent between us. I’m not sure what to say. I have to admit, I didn’t think this conversation would be the first to happen tonight. I knew it was coming soon though. “But,” she sighs, shrugging “…maybe it’s meant to be like this, you know?” I frown when she looks up. “Maybe my life is meant to be fucked up and discombobulated. Maybe I’m never going to gain the peace I deserve—”

I cut her off before she can finish, pressing my lips on hers and clasping her delicate face in my hands. She moans, pressing her palms to my chest to try and push me away, but I refuse and eventually, as I pull her closer to me, running my hand up and down the small of her back, she falters. Then, she gives in. She tosses her arms around my neck, threading her fingers through my hair and pressing those full, perky breasts against me. Lowering my hand, I spread her thighs apart, and my fingers splay across her silky skin. She groans as I guide my hands closer to her heat, but I don’t go for the automatic. I wait, and she pulls back, panting. “Don’t,” she breathes. “Don’t tease. You know I hate that.” My nostrils flare, and my throat burns as she softly grazes my bottom lip. My cock pulses as she runs a hand down my chest, slowly making her way to my belt buckle. Her lips don’t drift from mine, but I keep my hand between her legs. Goosebumps crawl along her skin when fingertips inch closer to her anxious pussy. She wriggles her hips, aiming to get me closer. I hold back. Whether she realizes it or not, teasing her always pays off. Before I know it, the buckle of my belt and my zipper have been undone, and her warm palm wraps around my hardened cock. I clutch her ass, push her body forward. A thick groan rattles within me, and I throb as I maneuver between her legs. “God, Red,” I breathe. “How do you keep doing this to me?” “Doing what?” Her voice is light and airy. “This. Make each time better than the last…” I stroke deeper and her back arches, in dire need. The hand I have on her ass comes around to toy with her now wet pussy. Goddamn… she’s fucking leaking for me. I thrust one thick finger inside, and she gasps. As her lips part and her back arches on the leather seat even more, I nibble on her chin, increasing her arousal, adding another finger.

Pulling my fingers away, I adjust myself and slowly sink insider her, but before I can go balls deep, she grips my face in her hands and looks me in the eye. “If I’m going to do this, take you back, it has to be on my terms. It has to be worth it, Ace.” My brows narrow. “What do you mean?” “I mean you have to promise me that you won’t go back to what you were, no matter how tempting it is for you.” I swallow hard. Shit. I’m about to lie to her, and I know it. I don’t want to, but she doesn’t understand. I need to find out who tried to tear me down. I need money. I refuse to go without. I know she still has the diamonds. Bianca told me, but if anything ever happens to me again, I want her to keep that, save it. I’m a man. I won’t ask the woman I love for money. That’s not me. I’m supposed to provide. The thing is, I have enough to get by. But during those two months after I escaped West’s wrath, I gave over half of my money to my men’s families. Gerrick, Tye, and Wes. Even Trent, my loyal driver. Fortunately, he’s still alive. He got away, and he’s living a better life. A clean life. I didn’t see him. He deserved better than to be in my presence again, so I gave the money to his sister and told her to give it to him. I’m definitely not broke, but I’m not as rich as I once was either. “Ace,” she calls, pushing up on her elbows and looking me over. “Yeah… heard you.” Her face straightens as she pushes back and sits up. Caressing my cheek with the pad of her thumb, she whispers, “You can’t go back. Promise me you won’t go back.” Fuck. A promise. One I know I won’t keep. When I go, I won’t tell her. I won’t let her know what I’m up to. “I won’t go back, London.” She nods, leaning forward to place a passionate kiss on my lips. I savor it, groaning as I pull her into

me, finishing what we’d just started. As I toss her back on the leather, her lips part, but she spreads her legs wide open, allowing me all the access I need. Grabbing her hips, I hoist her up, positioning my cock at her entrance. And as I slide in, taking it inch by savory inch, her eyes gradually shut, and she pants, lifting her dress to toy with her taut, pink nipples. I’ve just lied. To the woman I love, I lied. But I don’t lie without reason. I’m protecting her. My son. Us. I want the best for my family before we enter the realm of eternal and everlasting bliss, and the only way that can happen is if I cut off all loose ends. Those loose ends start in New York. I have to go back. I must. I owe it to myself. I owe it to the crew that died for me. If I don’t go back and figure out who it was that tried to ruin and end me, I’ll never be able to live with myself. I’ll never have the peace of mind I long for. I can’t live in vain.





Cold Case Love – Rihanna I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t even know how I allowed my body to trick my mind into coming out with Ace. I know Greg will be home in four hours or less. This gives me just a few hours to get answers from Ace. The driver pulls up to a restaurant on Malibu beach. As the spike of my heel plants on the concrete, I stare ahead at the fountain sprouting colors of gold and silver. When we walk by, I spot koi fish of various colors swimming in the fountain. So peaceful. So tranquil. Lovely. As we step onto the balcony of the restaurant, Ace adjusts his tie before pulling out my seat. I steal a glance at him before sitting, forcing a smile. I slide in, and he takes the seat next to me. Pressing my lips, I take a look at my surroundings. I admit, this is nice. It’s close to 70 degrees out. A nice breeze brushes past my bare shoulders. I tighten my scarf around me, peering from the glass railing to the shimmering blue ocean water. The setting sun soothes me, the small amount of heat comforting, and I relax a little, realizing I should be enjoying this moment—Ace’s company. I shouldn’t be so wound up. I should be happy. Yes, I’m confused and torn, but I love him. There’s no doubt about it. And no matter how guilty I feel, it doesn’t overcome my love for him. Otherwise, I

would’ve stayed at home and never thought about leaving. I never would’ve taken an hour to do my hair, another hour and a half to put on makeup, or even put on one of the best dresses in my wardrobe. I sigh, turning in Ace’s direction, and to my surprise, he’s already looking at me. I perk up a bit, my cheeks burning. “What?” I whisper. He presses his lips and shakes his head, his signal for, “Nothing.” “Why are you staring?” He laughs. “I haven’t seen you in over three and a half years, London. I dreamed of this moment. Staring will be imminent throughout the night.” He leans forward, grabbing my hand and bringing my knuckles to his lips. After kissing them, he tells me, “It’s hard not to look at the woman I love. Beautiful, Red.” I stare down at my lap, fighting a blush. “Thank you.” He squeezes my hand in his. A young waiter appears at the table with a notepad, and Ace asks for a bottle of the house’s finest red. After bringing it back, we place our orders, and he takes off, giving us time to ourselves again. “You’ve been pretty quiet since we fucked,” Ace says after sipping his wine. He flashes a cool smile, which causes me to melt entirely. I laugh and scoff at once. “That’s what you consider it? Fucking?” “It was a good, quick fuck. We’ll soon make love. Don’t worry.” “Ha. You’re funny.” He studies me with a hint of a smile on his lips as I pick up my glass of wine and take two small sips. The live jazz music surrounds us, and I drum my fingers to it with my free hand, but I can’t help my wandering mind. What am I doing here? Why did I come running, knowing Greg could show up at anytime? How would I explain the dress and makeup? Or even the mysterious black truck pulling up to the curb and dropping me off?

I sip again, and Ace says something that catches me completely off guard. “You’re thinking about him.” I pause on my next sip, avoiding his eyes. Instead of looking at him, I focus on the basket of bread rolls. This is a statement. He knows. As always, I suck at hiding my feelings. At least we know that hasn’t changed. “Just realizing how unfair I’m being to him right now.” “Then end it.” His voice is heated. “Just let the motherfucker go. You know who you really want, London.” “No,” I shake my head. “I don’t. I thought I did, but… I don’t.” I swallow thickly, placing my glass down. “Bianca said something about you earlier, and it’s been seared into my brain ever since.” He sits back, folding his arms. “This should be good…” I stare at him, and he rolls his eyes, exhaling. “Fine. What did she say?” “She said you haven’t changed… that you’re still you.” Ace cocks a brow. “You believe that?” I don’t respond, which makes his jaw tick. His upper lips twitches as he slowly unfolds his arms. “Did she tell you how long I waited before actually speaking to her?” “… No.” “Two months I waited.” “Why two months?” “Wanted to see how much had changed…” The knot in his throat works up and down. “And I wanted to see if you’d ever show up with her one day. Never did.” He looks away, and I realize there’s something else. Something he doesn’t want to admit. “That’s not the only reason why you waited, is it?” He looks away, jaw locking, which proves I’m correct. I wait for him to speak again. He doesn’t. He keeps his line of sight away from mine. “Ace?” I call. “What do you want to hear, London?” he snaps in

a hiss. “The truth,” I snap back, leaning my chest over the table top. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just thought… I don’t fucking know.” He runs a rough hand across his face. “For a moment, I thought she was the one that betrayed me. Ordered someone to kidnap me.” I gasp. “Someone took you?” He nods. “For three years?” Another nod. “Why?” He shrugs. “Wanted what I had.” I’m shocked. “Why would you think it was Bianca? She’s family. She fought like hell to get justice for you.” “I know that now.” His voice is angry. “After talking with her myself, I know. But she’s the only person that knows the most about me. She knows a good bit about the Crow business too. I assumed—” “Bianca didn’t betray you. She loves you, and she spent almost every waking moment with me after we thought you passed. She would never do that. You know that.” He nods, pressing his knuckles to his upper lip. He’s quiet for a moment, and relief swirls through me when he finally speaks again. “Being taken against my will really fucked with my head. I didn’t know what to think… who to trust. Everything went downhill.” “We’re all you have left. You can trust us.” I look him over, watching as his face goes blank, but his eyes spread wide with raw emotion, telling it all. Reaching forward, I tilt his chin to meet his gaze. He doesn’t blink, which allows me to see the agony he endured. Sadness overwhelms me, pulling at my heartstrings. I feel awful. I should’ve sent someone to look for him. I should’ve known he wasn’t dead. I had the thought in the back of my mind. I had a deep-rooted

feeling that he was still alive, and like a hopeless fool, I gave up on it. “Do you… want to talk about it?” He shakes his head. “Not right now. This is our time.” “Okay.” I force a smile, squeezing his hand in mine. “It’s okay. We don’t have to.” He appreciates the gesture, but during the rest of dinner, our conversations are light, almost limited. He doesn’t talk much. I tell him a little about Aden, just enough to get him to perk up again, but it all crashes down once I stop. I’m not sure how much longer I can go on. I expected him to talk… to explain something to me, mainly what happened to him three years ago. Unfortunately, I’m not granted any answers and I won’t force it out of him. After dinner, Ace leads the way back out to the truck. After sliding in, Max pulls off. We don’t go straight home. We just ride for a while, hand in hand with the windows rolled down and a cool breeze rushing past us, ruining the hair I just straightened. I would say it’s perfect, but it’s not. There’s tension. Thick and impenetrable. Ace is hardly looking at me. He’s focused on what’s happening outside the truck. He hasn’t looked my way since we got in. I don’t say anything. I don’t want to interrupt his deep thoughts. But I am worried. And I realize Bianca was wrong earlier. Ace is not the same. He’s been broken down. Torn apart. He lost everything, and I’m not sure if that makes him stronger or weaker. From what I can tell, he seems a lot more vulnerable now. He’s not the same Ace Crow I first met in Atlanta and spent weeks with in New York. There, he was a king. A god. A ruler. But now… he’s a ripped open Ace. A hollow version of what he once was. I see it all over his broken face. The way he flexes his jaw, the way he clenches his fists beneath his chin without even

realizing it. He’s definitely different. I pull my hand away from his, hoping he comes back to reality and talks to me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns forward and tells Max to take me home. For ten minutes, we ride in infuriating and unclear silence. Dare I speak? What should I say? What happened to make him want to end the night so quickly? We still have time. Why not cherish it? Unfortunately, Max pulls up to the curb of my two-story home. I stare up at the palm trees, sighing as I grab the door handle. Before I push out, Ace catches my hand and stops me. I look back as he leans forward, and his cologne brushes past my nose. There are a million questions I could ask, but only one weighs on the tip of my tongue. One that hurts so badly to be asked. “You’re going back… aren’t you?” I stare into his honey eyes, watching as he watches me. His nostrils flare, and his eyes tell it all, but he doesn’t speak. Not even a gesture. He crushes his lips together and looks down. Just like that, he’s broken his promise to me. Outraged, I snatch my hand away from his, climb out of the truck, and slam the door behind me. I rush up the stoop and towards my front door, unlocking it with fury pumping through my veins. Once it’s open, I take one look back. I can’t see through the tinted windows, but I know he’s watching. He’s not even going to come after me?! Make this right? Fuck him! Fuck him for making me feel again! Fuck him for coming back, knowing he was going back to his ruthlessness! Knowing I wouldn’t accept his selfish ways. Fuck him for not putting me first. I deserve to come first. Fuck him for being so fucking selfish! I slam the front door, and when I see the headlights of the truck flash through the window and on the wall across from me, I press a hand over my mouth, realizing he’s gone. With my back against the door, I sob—not as hard as I did when I thought Ace died, but

close. My heart shatters in my chest, breaking into fragments. Why did he come back? Why would he do this to me? Leave me hanging… lead me to believe we could make something work? I was doing great without him. I was finally creating a life. I slide down, crouching on my heels, buckling as I cup my mouth. Nobody’s home, but it seems like I’m in a crowded house. I feel Greg and Aden. I feel how I’ve let them down. They would hate me if they knew the sin I’d just committed. He’s going back. Wow. I don’t believe it. I’m losing him again. Not again. *** One short hour later, and I’m ill-prepared when Greg walks through the door. “Hey babe,” he sings as the door clicks shut behind him. I struggle with a smile, gripping my cup of chai tea as he places a kiss on the center of my forehead. “Where’s Aden?” “I put him to sleep about thirty minutes ago.” I’m lying. Jessica, my babysitter in the next neighborhood, put him to sleep. The only job I took care of was picking him up and putting him in his bed. What kind of mother am I? Leaving my flesh and blood for a man who so clearly doesn’t deserve my presence? “Oh.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and places it on the coat rack in the corner. “You okay? You seem bothered.” “Yeah,” I respond quickly. “I’m fine.” He tilts his head, eyes holding mine as he takes the seat across from me at the kitchen table. “You sure?” He reaches for my hand. I allow him to take it and place it in his. Not too long ago, that hand was squeezed tightly in Ace’s. It’s insane how different their hands are. Ace’s have a rough edge, but they’re warm and comforting. Greg’s are really soft and clean, and most times, they’re cold. “You’ve been acting kind of off since last night.”

I lower my head to rid myself of the memory—of him—and look back up, nodding. “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” That’s true. I couldn’t. I felt guilty, and all I kept wondering was “What would Greg do if he found out?” How would he react? What would he tell me? To go to Hell? I love Greg, more like an uplifting friend with benefits than a lover, but I love him. And I care about his feelings just like he cares about mine. He sits back, a soft smile spreading across his pink lips. Thick fingers run through his bed of silky blond hair. “That’s good to hear ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Greg rises from his chair, keeping hold of my hand and limiting the space between us. He tugs on my arm gently, begging me to stand with his eyes. There’s something else swirling in the depths of those blue irises. That look… the one I know all too well. Uh-oh. I know where this is headed. I bite into my bottom lip agonizingly hard as I stand. Hesitating would be wrong, and he’d know something else is bugging me. I taste blood, and my heart pounds in my chest as he reels me closer. Grabbing my waist, he begins kissing my neck, showering me with unwanted caresses. They’re sweet and soft, but I don’t want them. I want demanding and greedy. Passionate and real from both ends. Ace… It doesn’t take long for Greg to pick me up and place me on top of the table. I shut my eyes as he trails kisses down my chest. He stops right above my breasts and pinches my nipples with slight amount of pressure. Groaning, he works his way down, and I stare up at the ceiling, way too still for this moment. I’m supposed to want him after a long day at work. I’m supposed to be ready to rid him of his weary stress. Willing, and only his. But I’m not. I’m not Greg’s. I don’t belong to him. And I honestly don’t think I belong to Ace anymore either.

I’m alone now, an empty shell of a woman, belonging to myself and no one else. Ace told me he would fight for me, that he’d die for me. He told me a bunch of romantic bullshit, and I fell for it. A tear slides down the side of my face, and I swipe it away quickly, hoping Greg doesn’t notice. But he does. He always notices. He sits up and snatches his hands away, holding them in the air innocently. I push up on my elbows as he steps back, eyes wide and confused. “London,” he breathes. “I—I’m sorry… what did I do? Did I hurt you?” He scans my body, trying to find the part of me he may have harmed. I shake my head and reach for his hand. He relaxes a little, allowing me to pull him towards me. Placing my head on his toned stomach, I breathe him in, knowing this isn’t the person I want to be doing this with, but he’s here, and he’s never broken a promise. He’s never gone back on his word. He’s always been here for me, and I will never be able to repay that debt. Greg runs his fingers through my hair and kisses the top of my head. I smile as one more tear drops, but I keep my chin up. Ace… I now consider him a mistake. I consider him the past. He went back, but I’m moving forward, and if I have to move forward without him, then so be it. I’ll learn to accept Greg for the loving man he is, a man who truly loves me and a man who will do anything for me. I will learn to appreciate that because I deserve it. I deserve him, not someone who will run off to try and conquer the world when he pleases. Not someone who is willing to abandon my heart at any given moment. Consistency is key. I need that now, not only for myself but also for my child, whom I love unconditionally. Aden deserves the very best, and I will give up anything for his sake, even his unpredictable, dangerous biological father. No more games or lies. No more broken

promises. This is the world I live in now. It’s new and fresh and different to me, like a baby being born. This is the world I will hold onto, and no one will destroy it. Not even the man my soul connected with a long time ago. Not even Ace Crow.





Over My Dead Body - Drake During dinner, I realized I couldn’t drag London into my shit. I will come back. I love her. She is my life. But there’s a job to be done. There’s shit to handle that I should’ve handled before making an appearance. That was my mistake. I got too excited, too impatient. I should’ve waited… or maybe I never should’ve come back. That’s probably what she’s thinking. Why did I come back? Why did I waste her precious time? Why did I lie to her on the first day of seeing her after so many heartbreaking years? I know by letting her go like that, I broke her heart. I shattered her, but she doesn’t realize I love her and I need to do this. I need to if I want the perfect life with her and my son. A clear and bright future. One without regrets or worrying that someone else will come after me and lock me up for three years or more. I got lucky. I escaped. It happened for a reason. I run a hand across my forehead, breathing unevenly as I roll the window up, cutting off the necessary breeze. Max rolls the tinted privacy window up, and I appreciate it because I don’t want to be seen right now. Not only is her heart broken, but so is mine. Hurting her is tearing me up inside. She deserves my all. She deserves a fight. Why the fuck didn’t I fight? I

was too lost in my own thoughts, trying to figure out who wants to take me down instead of worrying about the one person who wants nothing but to lift me up. I did her wrong, and now I have to make it up. Fuck going back to New York right now. That shit can wait. I’m making this right. I need her in my life, and whether she realizes it or not, she needs me too.





Silhouettes – Of Monsters and Men It happened, and I’m not proud about it. The act of unwanted lust. Greg didn’t notice how much I wasn’t into it because of my mastered pretending skill, and I was glad that, as soon as we finished, he showered and went straight to sleep. I showered again, but I couldn’t sleep. How could I? Only hours ago I was touched in a way that lit my soul on fire. In a way that made me completely messy and wet between my legs. In a way that I’d needed for years. There is so much on my mind, and I hate the decision I’ve come to. It breaks my heart. Greg rolls over, and I check the alarm clock. It’s nearing six in the morning which means he’ll be waking for work soon. When he does, I force my eyes shut and pretend I’m asleep. After getting dressed and freshening up, he places a kiss on my cheek and he’s out of the bedroom. I hear clattering and movement in the kitchen, the TV is turned on, and then I hear the garage door open several minutes later. His truck roars to life, the chains clank as he departs from the garage, and just like that, he’s gone. I sit up, tossing the blanket away and combing my fingers through my hair. My phone buzzes as I stand from the bed, and when I see Bianca’s name appear, I’m glad she’s returned my text. I need to talk to her. After checking the weather, I dress in a sky-blue

camisole, khaki shorts, and my favorite white Toms. Aden is downstairs in front of the television finishing up a bowl of fruity cereal, the same spot Greg always places him in before he leaves. “Hi, love nugget.” I smile, scooping him up and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Mommy, that’s the bad guy,” he says, pointing at the TV. I glance at it, nodding. I can’t think of bad guys right now. If only he knew how involved I was with one. “Let’s go get dressed,” I tell him, heading for the stairs. “Where are we going?” “We’re going to meet Auntie Bianca for some breakfast.” His brown eyes light up, and he smiles. I match a genuine one with him before entering his room, getting him washed up and dressed, and then heading back downstairs. “Do we have everything?” I ask, scanning my perimeter. He nods, but his eyes fill with uncertainty. I laugh, running my fingers through his curly black hair before taking his hand, grabbing my keys from the key holder, and walking out of the door. After buckling him and myself in, I pull out of the garage, on my way to meet Bianca at our favorite coffee shop on Biltmore Lane. It’s a warm day, perfect for a day at the beach. I may just do that while Aden plays in the sand. Lord knows I need to relax. I need to let go… clear my mind. I parallel park the Genesis in front of the shop and take Aden out, making my way to the front door. As I walk in, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm, sweet pastries streams into my lungs and comforts me. I spot Bianca in the corner on her cell phone. She waves a hand to get my attention, and I make my way to her, whizzing through tables with Aden’s hand clutched in mine. “Okay. I’ll see you soon,” Bianca says before hanging up. She looks up at me, rolling her eyes. “What happened?”

“Model broke her ankle in one of my heels last night.” She sighs. “She wants to sue.” “Oh no,” I say, placing Aden on my lap. “Yanca!” Aden squeals. “Hey Adey-Wadey!” Bianca reaches across to squeeze his cheeks and tickle him, and he giggles, hunching his shoulders. “She can’t sue. She’s a dumb broad. She signed a contract. We aren’t accountable for any accidents or injuries. Ugh. It’s way too early for this shit.” She meets my eyes, sliding a cup of coffee my way. I pick it up right away, taking a heavy sip. “So, what’s up?” she asks. “I hopped on the earliest flight I could catch. Gotta keep an eye on that crazy cousin.” I take a look down at Aden who’s too busy playing with his toy cars to be paying us any attention. I place him in the seat next to me and then rest my elbows on the table, raking my fingers through my natural curls. “It’s… him,” I sigh. “Ace?” she whispers, giving Aden a quick glance. “Yes. He came last night and took me out.” “Yeah, I saw him getting ready. Did you like the magenta?” Her smile is smug as she sits back. “Bianca Love did that.” I laugh. “It was perfect,” I tell her. “The night was perfect… until I got home.” I stare down at my cup, seeing Bianca adjust in her seat through my peripheral. “Oh no,” she says, her voice deflated and annoyed. “What happened? He fucked up already?” “That’s bad word Auntie Yanca!” Aden frowns at her. She grabs his hand, pressing a finger to her lips with the other. “Sorry Adey.” He smashes his lips together, returning to his toys. She meets my eyes again. “Well?” “He’s going back, Bianca. You were right.” She sits back, the excitement that was once in her eyes transforming to guilt. She shakes her head, looking out of the window to her right. “I knew it was too good to be true.” Her face depresses. “Why? Why

would he come here just to go back?” I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’m done Bianca.” My tone is serious, my face stern, and Bianca’s face sobers. “I expected better. I expected him to come back and actually be with me.” I realize I’m getting louder, so I tone it down a notch after stealing a peek at a busily playing Aden. “I can’t do it. Not again. I have priorities now. I betrayed Greg,” I whisper, tears building at the rims of my eyes. “I will never forgive myself for that.” “London,” she murmurs. “No… you can’t be done. You can’t just give up on him. I know I told you to be careful, but—” “I don’t care.” Pearly teeth sink into her bottom lip. “London,” she says, holding a hand up. “I—I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know he’d go back. I thought he knew better.” She pauses, fidgeting in her seat. “But this is exactly why I told you to think things through. Ace can’t be trusted. He couldn’t be trusted before. How can he be trusted now, after being torn down, locked up, and beaten?” “He told you about that?” “No. Maurice got the scoop for me. He tells Maurice everything, and Maurice tells me everything. I told him to ask while they went out for drinks. I was worried. I saw the scars. The bullet wounds. They’re all over his body.” Scars? Bullet wounds? Mortified, I sit back in my seat and stare down at the table. “How does he feel about you and you know who?” she asks, leaning forward. I scoff, rolling my eyes. “He hates it.” “He’s still here, you know? I talked to him this morning. Maybe you two can talk it out?” I narrow brows, and when I see the desperation on her face, I scoff at her again. “You’re kidding, Bianca.” She blinks but doesn’t say a word. “Right?” I snip without even realizing it. My temper skyrockets, and I stand from my seat. I grab

Aden’s hand and step back. “We should go.” I shouldn’t reach the point of overreacting with Bianca. I love her, and she’s the last person I want to lose. She’s like a sister to me, but she knows me. She knows what I deserve. “London—I think you should just think about this… how he will react to your decision. Ace is just a little lost right now. It’s expected after what happened to him. He’s damaged. Not saying you shouldn’t be cautious, but you can’t just abandon him like he never meant anything to you.” I whip my head up, pushing Aden back a few steps as rage ignites me. “Bianca, you are out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to be the one crawling back. Ace has always been damaged. That’s nothing new.” Her bright brown eyes widen, reminding me of his. My heart shatters a little, my soul shrivels, but I continue. I have to be strong. For myself. For my son. No matter how much my heart may ache, this is what has to be done. I’ve come to my decision, and that decision is to put myself before him. “If only you’d seen the look on his face when I asked him if he was going back. If only you were there when I stormed to the house, expecting him to come running after me to comfort me but instead receiving nothing but emptiness.” I step back, lifting my hands and waving them before me, defeated. My heart thumps in my chest, more tears filling the brink of my eyes. Hers glisten. “If only you knew how much this decision hurts me and how hard I thought it through. I can’t go back, Bianca. He’ll just keep seeking power wherever he can get it. He’ll keep going back over the dumbest things and I can’t keep forgiving him. I’m doing what’s best for everyone. He’s better off alone if he thinks that’s what comes first.” Baffled and unusually silent, Bianca lowers her head and stares at her lap. She has nothing to say which is good because I don’t want to argue. She usually seeks the last word, but not this time. She

knows I’m right about him. It was her idea for me to think things through before just diving in again. I guess she didn’t think I’d drop him entirely. I turn around, holding onto my son’s hand and making my way to the exit. “Call me when you’re back in Washington,” I tell her before walking out the door and to the car. I strap Aden in his car seat and shut the door behind him, but before I make my way to the driver ’s door, I take a deep breath, fighting the wave of emotion. I’ve never argued with Bianca before. I’ve never hurt her or tried to put her down, but today is a first, and I feel awful. It hurts, and I know she won’t call me when she’s in Washington because even though it seems she’s strong, she’s not. She can be weak, and she can hurt at any given moment, just like me. She’ll cry. She’ll feel bad, but despite it all, she’ll understand. And that’s all I want. Her understanding. Her acceptance. She, of all people, should know where I’m coming from, especially after the way she left him in New York. “Is Auntie Yanca okay?” Aden asks as I shut the car door behind me. I look in the rearview mirror, nodding. “Yeah, sweetie. She’s fine.” I start the car, looking towards the coffee shop. I spot her with her elbows on the table, a hand pinching the bridge of her nose and her head moving back and forth, obviously upset. “She’ll be fine,” I murmur. *** After spending a few glorious hours at the beach and coming home to freshen up, I drop Aden off at daycare, take out my grocery list, and make my way inside the market. I pull a buggy from the cluster as the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread and cakes bathe my senses. For once, my mind is clear, and I can thank the beach for that. An escape. The perfect place to soak up some sun, read a romantic book, and relax. The weather was perfect, and after my mildly heated moment with Bianca earlier, I needed to let loose.

Relaxing was best. Aden was onto me. I had to prove to him that I was okay—that his mommy wasn’t losing it. I push down the aisle, grabbing item after item while radio hits flow out the speakers above. People pass by, and I genuinely smile, humming along with the songs I know. I check the items off the list and continue shopping. It seems all is good—that nothing could go wrong. Peace washes over me like a gentle wave, and I take a cleansing breath. But then… I hear his voice. “Save some for us. I’ll spread it between your legs, and I’ll be sure to lick it all away.” His smoky voice causes the hairs on my spine to prickle and my ears grow hot as I clutch the jar of honey in my hand. Turning slightly, I see him through my peripheral, sporting a pair of dark blue jeans that hang off his waist and a black V-neck. He stands still, his head held high. I feel his gaze on me. Heavy and wanting. I clutch the handle of my buggy, marching forward. Casual footsteps start up behind me, and I walk faster, making my way down the next aisle. It’s clear of shoppers. Great. We’re alone. I pick up a box of cereal, but I don’t hear the footsteps anymore. I look back, but he’s not there. A frown creases at my forehead. I scan the perimeter for him. Not a trace. I laugh at myself. Am I imagining shit? I grab a box of the fruity cereal Aden constantly devours, but as I reach for a box of my favorite oatmeal, a hand touches my waist, and I gasp, whirling around as the box of oats hit the floor. Hazel eyes meet honey-brown irises, and I freeze as he pulls me closer, his head slightly tilted and a ghost of a smile on his inviting lips. “Missed you, Red.” I thin my eyes at him, fighting to get out of his arms. My breathing is uneven, my heartbeat unsteady, but my walls betray me by constricting from the husky sound of his voice. “Let me go. I don’t have time for your shit, Ace.”

“You don’t? Made plenty of time last night.” I don’t respond. Instead, I slink my way out of his thick arms and duck beneath them, returning to my buggy. A deep laugh rises, and I look up. He looks at me, tucking his fingertips in his front pockets. I push past him, purposely forcing him back a few steps as I walk by. Of course he follows me, and I can’t stand it… or can I? I have a bad habit of lying to myself. I can convince my mind, but my heart repeatedly betrays me for this ruthless man. He remains silent as I continue my shopping. I make my way to the seafood section, searching for Greg’s favorite salmon. After pulling a bag out and dropping it in the buggy, I cave and look back, spotting Ace leaning against one of the freezer doors, arms crossed. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand. “Go back to whatever hellhole you want to create.” He looks at me beneath his baseball cap, eyes thin and dark. He then pushes off the freezer door, uncrossing his arms and walking towards me with that same swagger he had when we first met. His steps are slow and measured, and with each one, my pulse thunders in my ears. I swallow thickly as he meets up to me, grabs my hand, and studies my face. I do my best to fight the sensations his touch kindles within me. I want him to know I’m done—that we’re done. “Go back,” I whisper-hiss. “No.” His voice is simple and deep. “Let me go, Ace. You’re not good for me.” “But Greg is?” He cocks an agitated brow. “As a matter of fact, he is.” I snatch my hand away and fold my arms, pressing my lips in defiance. “As I said before,” he murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips to the shell of my ear, “Fuck. Greg.” My stomach churns, but not uncomfortably. Whatever desire I thought I lost returns, and it returns with a vengeance. Ace skims his nose across my cheek, roaming

down to the hollow my neck. He clutches my ponytail, twists the length of it around his hand with flared nostrils, and cranes my neck. I heave, remaining absolutely still. His lips press on my skin, searing, and heat sinks to my sex, driving me mad. My pussy clenches, panting ensues, and he smirks, pulling away with ease. His eyes meet my bosom, and I pull back, inhaling the breath I didn’t even realize I’d lost. I stare into his dark eyes, reclaiming my confidence as I step past him and push my buggy forward. Once again, he laughs, and it rolls through the pit of my tummy, seeping to the puddle in my panties. I decide to wrap up my grocery shopping. I have a few more items to get, but they can wait. My sanity is more important than a few boxes of popcorn and other miscellaneous snacks. I enter the checkout line, glancing back but not seeing Ace anywhere in sight. Once again, he’s disappeared, and a part of me is relieved, but the devious part—the bad girl in me—is dying for his presence. After checking out, I don’t see a sign of Ace, and relief swims through me as I exit the market and walk to my car. I pop the trunk, sighing as I toss the groceries in. I put the buggy in the return cart area, but when I turn back around, I spot him again. This time, he’s leaning against my car door, his black hat tipped down, his gaze on the ground. Frustrated, I march for him and try forcing him away from my car door, but he doesn’t budge. He looks down at me, his eyes glittering across my chest. Damn it. Why the hell didn’t I wear a bra? Stepping back, I huff as a few wisps of hair fall in my face. “Please move, Ace. I have to get back.” “What’s the rush?” “I have things to do.” “You tanned?” he questions, running his eyes all over me. I start to fold my arms, but then I remember… it’s what he wants. He wants me to feel

vulnerable to him. Open. Weak. He wants me to beg him for reassurance in any kind of form. I don’t say a thing. I simply match his glare. He looks me over one final time before carrying his line of sight up and sighing. “Meet me at Valentina Hotel.” This is an order, not a request. I scoff, crossing my arms. “Screw you. Get out of my way.” He studies me for a moment, his eyes drifting up and down my petite frame. I stare back, my chest rising and sinking with a mixture of anger, frustration, and lastly, a desperate taste for this man’s touch. Ace grabs my chin, his jaw clenching. His hat shields his eyes from the sun, so all I see is darkness, but within the depths of his irises, I see the longing he has for me. The sheer desire. “I could open this door, take you raw on the backseat of this car, andyou wouldn’t stop me. You love me. I love you. Let’s not play these petty games. We’re past that shit, London. Let’s be adults.” I seal my lips, yanking my face away from his grasp with a mild pant. Immediately, Ace reels me in, holding my ass cheeks in his large hands, our bodies undeniably close. We mold. A perfect fit. My throat thickens with need. He presses his hardening cock on my thigh, and my breath ceases for a moment, remembering just how wonderful that cock felt between my legs less than twenty-four hours ago. He breathes me in, shutting his eyes for a mere moment before flashing them open again. Releasing me, he says, “Valentina Hotel tonight. Room 214. I need to see you. I need to taste you. I need to be inside you. I need you around me. You are my sanity. Be there.” Does he really think his words are going to get to me? “No,” I breathe. “You had a chance to explain. You blew it by breaking your promise to me.”

“Am I in New York?” he challenges, eyes hard. “No, but you’re considering going back.” “If I really wanted to go back, I’d be there already.” His jaw ticks as he leans forward, minimizing the gap between us. “Doesn’t matter,” I mutter, but I know it does. He’s here for me right now. He’s right. If he really wanted to be somewhere, he’d be there. Ace steps away, turning his back to me. I watch as he walks away, my heart pounding a mile minute. Inside, my heart deflates with each step he takes. As much as I hate to admit it, his touch drives me wild. His voice. His aura. Every single thing about him. I keep my chin elevated, hoping he’ll stop. Hoping he’ll turn back around, find an excuse to speak again. But then my heart blows right up again, beating with way too much life. Pleasure courses through me when he finally says, “Valentina Hotel. Room 214,” once more before rounding the market and disappearing.





Don’t Play This Song – Kid Cudi I clutch my glass in hand as I hear the hotel door slam shut. Bianca barges in, tossing her designer purse on the sofa as she storms towards me. I glance back and when I see her stomping my way, her face contorted with rage, I sigh. “Tell me this is a fucking joke!” she barks, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me away from the view of the setting sun. She glares up at me and, with mellow eyes, I walk past her. The last thing I want is to argue with the only family I have left, other than London and my son, of course. “Ace,” she calls as I enter the kitchen. “Tell me you aren’t going back.” She follows me, watching as I top off my bourbon. “Not going back.” “You are a fucking idiot if you think—” I look up, my eyes smiling as she settles her tirade. Hers expand, and she looks me over, inhaling. “Wait,” she breathes, narrowing her brows. “You’re not going back?” “No.” “Then what was all that shit London was talking about this morning? What did you say to her?” “You met her this morning?” I ask, surprised. “Yes. She said you told her you were going back —well she didn’t say you said it, but she assumed you were because you didn’t answer her. She’s hurt, Ace. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. What the hell is going on?” She takes a seat on one of the leather stools across from me. After downing my

drink, I gasp and drop my glass. The ice clanks, rattling in my ears. “I have it handled.” “She’s not going to give in. She seemed pretty serious this morning. She’s sticking with the life she has. She never argues with me in front of Aden. She never argues in front of him period.” I laugh, folding my arms and leaning against the fridge. “She may have fooled you, but she damn sure can’t fool me. She’ll come around. Maybe not tonight like I asked her to, but soon. She’s too stubborn to give into me right away after making a decision like that.” “So…” Bianca chews on her bottom lip. “You thought about it then? You’re not going back?” “No.” At least, not right now. She releases a breath of relief. “Phew! Thank God!” Hopping off the stool, she makes her way to the sofa, shaking with silent laughter. “I don’t know what I would do if you’d gone back.” “The same shit you were doing when I wasn’t around. Living your life.” She frowns. “It wasn’t the same without you, Ace. I didn’t feel as protected. I didn’t have anyone that truly understood where I was coming from about certain… things. I needed my bull-headed cousin at some really desperate times.” Walking around me, she makes her way to the sofa, sighing as she sits. “You know Crow is a part of my business, right?” I pour her a drink and sit beside her. “It is?” “Yeah.” She grabs the cool glass and sips before speaking again. “I mean, it doesn’t say Crow or anything anywhere, but the symbol for the emo, dark girl clothing line is a tethered crow. Just like that one.” She points at the tattoo on my neck. “I did it to remind myself of where I came from and who I grew up with. You remember how I was that crazy emo chick that’d just lost her parents.” “Surprised,” I sit back and fold my arms. She laughs. “Why? It’s not that big of a surprise.” “You hated Crow.” I pause before speaking again.

She studies me, smile faltering. “We… left off on bad terms before you found out what happened.” It takes several seconds for her to speak. “I remember,” she says softly. “You realize I regret it,” I narrow my brows, looking her over, “…right?” “I regret it too. I didn’t think—” She stops talking abruptly to collect her thoughts. “Well, I knew something would happen, I just didn’t think it would be a staged death.” I rub the back of my neck, turning and facing the tan wall across from me. Bianca caps my shoulder, and I lift my head, honey-brown matching honey-brown. “I’m just glad you’re here, Ace. I really am. I just hope you’re actually here for the better.” Her face changes. It’s an odd change, almost like she already knows what she’s telling me is a false hope. Her head drops, and she focuses on her lap, her short, pink skirt, and purple high heels. Deciding to switch the subject, I say, “I’m glad shit got better for you, Bianca.” Her head whips up, and immediately, her eyes glisten at the rims. I expect a smile, or at least a hint of one, but it isn’t granted. “Better? Is that what you think I was after your disappearance?” I frown. She swallows thickly, dropping her head with shame written all over her. I absorb her sudden change of mood, realizing exactly what she’s getting at. See, Bianca has demons that no one knows about. A closet full of them. She may seem okay on the outside—quirky and lively and shit—but deep down, she’s tainted. She’s never been pure. Although she hoped and craved to be, she knew she never would. The way we grew up—the way our lives transitioned from innocent to ruthless in a few short years—allows nothing but impurities and imperfections to come in. With all we’ve witnessed and all we’ve been through, we, as Crows, will never be pure, no matter how much we crave to be. I stand from the sofa, staring down at her,

outraged. She stands and steps forward, holding her hands up as if she’s not guilty. “Don’t, Ace. Don’t even bother getting angry. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s all over with.” “What did you do?” She blinks up at me but doesn’t respond. I stomp towards her, squeezing her shoulders with blunt force. “Don’t tell me you went back to that shit, Bianca.” Her eyes shimmer, her face as pale as a full moon. Jerking away, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding my eyes. Silence showers around us, but tension thickens. My throat works hard, trying to accept the wrong she’s done, but it’s hard. I know if I’d been around, she never would’ve resorted to it… drugs. And not the soft shit. The hardcore, ‘it’s time to get fucked up’ shit. “I went to rehab for four months. London and Maurice helped me through it. I’m clean now. I swear. I just had a weak moment. It happened months ago. I got better for Aden and London. They were struggling—well, London was struggling. She needed me.” With a locked jaw, I step back, breathing unevenly and doing my best to keep my composure. It’s kind of hard to do, imagining her in such a fucked up situation and not having me by her side. I was always there for her, getting her through it. I’m the one that made her realize there were ways to get past it. Ways to grow beyond it. She had to find another hobby. Fashion was that hobby. I’m angry with myself more than I am with her. I never should’ve let Bianca leave New York. I should’ve been there for her, but instead, I chose the business over her. I deceived her. And I’m sure, for a while, she hated me. I bet she blamed herself for what happened to me. That’s why she resorted to drugs. I pant through flared nostrils, and before I realize it, I’ve stalked towards the kitchen, knocking one of the stools over viciously. It crashes to the floor, my breathing deep, anger substantial.

Bianca flinches, and her hands cover her mouth as I snatch up the glass I was just holding and toss it at the wall across from me. Clear shards scatter across the linoleum, a sharp triangular piece landing near my foot. “Ace—” “I told you about this, Bianca,” I growl, stepping towards her. I tower over her, and it isn’t like her to cower, but with this topic, she does. She coils up, almost hiding in her purple blazer. “I’ve never told anyone about this shit. I never brought your bad habits—your monsters—to light because I want you to be the good one. You are the good one. You are the good of Crow, Bianca. I’ve told you this!” “I couldn’t help myself!” she screams. “I—I got drunk. I went clubbing, and I met this guy… some completely random guy. He took me to VIP, and I saw it... right on the table. It’s like it was meant for me. I’d been thinking about doing it for weeks and then, I finally see it. Right there in the open. Waiting for me… like it was calling for me.” “Saw what?” “…Heroin.” Her voice is barely heard. “Godammit, Bianca!” Two lonely tears stream down her cheeks. “I know! I swore to you I would never touch it again, but it happened so long ago, Ace. Months after we found out you were gone.” I look her in the eyes, and without a doubt, I weaken for her. For once, I let my guard down for Bianca because a part of this is my fault. I’m the real monster. I’m the reason she resorted to such fucked up and dark depths. I’m the reason for every bad thing in her life. I want to fight the tears and the heartache I feel for not being there for her, and fortunately, I win. But when I speak again, my voice cracks, proving just how weak I am for my baby cousin. “I was here,” I say. “I was here, Bianca. You couldn’t see me, and I apologize from the bottom of my fucking heart… but I was here.”

She sniffles, swiping at her face. “Some part of me wanted to believe you were. I wanted to imagine you. Pretend you were around. The only way I could do that was if I… took it.” I turn my back to her, picturing in my head the months she probably spent in rehab recovering. Going through painful withdrawals and uncomfortable chills, which I’ve witnessed. The worst side of her. I didn’t show it then because I was much stronger and had way too much pride, but shit changes when you haven’t seen a person you care about in years. You realize what you’ve missed out on, how much damage you actually caused them instead of good. You hate yourself for all the fucked up shit. I hate myself. I’m better off dead. “But you’re here now,” Bianca whispers, stepping around me with a small smile. She hugs one of my arms, her body shuddering from backed up tears. “I can’t afford to lose you again, Ace.” Something wet slides down my forearm. I realize it’s one of her tears. “Don’t go back. Don’t even think about going back. We’re all you need. We all lost our shit when we thought you died. Whether you realize it or not, you have a huge impact on our lives. You mean a lot to us. We need you.” I swallow hard, staring up and watching the sun sink beneath the ongoing ripples. My heart thunders, pulse rising. I glance down at a weeping and thankful Bianca, then back at the horizon. She shudders with her overflow of tears. I remain motionless, allowing her words to sink in. I have an impact. I matter. I can’t go now. This time, after witnessing a raw Bianca—a side of her I haven’t seen since we were teenagers—I mean it. I can’t go. I’m staying. I’m fighting. I’m here. Time for a fresh start.







Skin - Rihanna Greg is working all night which leaves me ample time to overanalyze everything. I can’t stand it. I’m worrying Aden. He watches me more than I know. “Mommy? Are you okay?” he asks. He steps into the kitchen in his favorite racecar pajamas, his eyes tired. I stop my pacing in front of the kitchen sink, dropping to my knees to reach eyelevel with him. “I’m okay. Just thinking, honey.” I gather him in my arms as he rubs his eyes. “Come on. You’re sleepy. Want me to read you a bedtime story?” “I want The Gwinch!” I laugh, taking the stairs. “The Grinch it is.” After tucking Aden in and reading him his favorite story, I place a kiss on his forehead and turn his nightlight on. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me, okay?” He nods, but I know once I’m gone, he’ll be fast asleep. He’s had a long day with the beach, daycare, and his play date with the kids down the street. He’s got to be exhausted. I sigh as I walk back down the stairs, rounding the corner and entering the living room. I turn the lamps off, grab the TV remote, and surf through the channels, hoping it’ll clear my mind. My lust… or should I call it love? I do still love him. I still care about him. But he fucked up. It’s not my fault he’s all wishy-washy with his decisions. He let me go. But he’s trying to win you back again, London!

To my dismay, a movie pops up. An erotic scene flashes, and I stop surfing, my eyes stretching. My breathing becomes shallow as the scene unfolds before me. His hands running down her waist, circling her hips, and trailing towards her sacred valley. The urge consumes me—the urge to be pleased. Satisfied. I lean back, taking a quick look around. Greg won’t be home before midnight. I have way too much time on my hands. I remember Ace’s words this morning, the way he held me. Stared at me. Wanted me. My eyes dart to the jar of honey sitting on the countertop in the kitchen. I huff a laugh, but it doesn’t prevent my hand from running across my bare thigh. I sink back against the sofa cushion, bringing my hands up, my fingers nearing damp heat. Teeth sink into my plump bottom lip, and I shut my eyes, reminding myself of that moment on the counter less than forty-eight hours ago. His thick, delicious cock slipping inside me. The cock I missed so fucking much. An unexpected moan fills the spacious room, but I don’t stop. The pad of my finger finds the delicate nub between my folds and presses down lightly. I gasp, the thrill of it setting me on edge. I haven’t touched myself like this in over a year. Before I met Greg, all I thought about was Ace and how he pleased me, rocked my body, and took care of me. Then, Greg came into the picture and became a temporary distraction—a cock I could take advantage of. Make my own. My finger presses harder on my clit, the others collecting moisture. Curly dark hair between my legs is what I imagine. Thick arms wrapped around my thighs and large hands clutching my hips. Warm, tan skin on mine, his deep, guttural groans. Crow… My breathing is no longer shallow. It’s thick. I hear the woman moan on the TV and the man’s groan

drowns beneath it, bringing me to a full-blown ecstasy. It’s hard not to cry out, so I make do. A muffled moan escapes parted lips, and my body slowly dies down, my back no longer arched, and my toes gradually uncurling. Hold on. What the fuck just happened? My eyes pop open, and I take a look around, disheveled. I pull my shit together, sitting up and tucking my legs beneath me. I rest my head on the armrest, releasing calm breaths as I change the channel. A small smile graces my lips, and before I know it, I fall asleep. With the thought of Ace Crow on my mind. Wild, erotic dreams of us. Touching some more. Teasing. Wait... us? Shit. *** “I don’t want eggs,” Aden complains, pushing his plate away. I sit beside him at the kitchen table. “Okay… no eggs. I’ll just eat them.” I smile, picking up a fork and digging it in his eggs. He picks up a slice of bacon, smiling behind it. The stairs creak, and Greg rounds the corner moments later, yawning. I straighten my back, dropping my fork and standing from the table. “Hungry?” I ask, avoiding his eyes. I glance back as he scratches the top of his head. He smiles at Aden, ruffling his hair as he passes by and comes towards me. A large arm wraps around my middle and pulls me back. He places his chin on my shoulder. My breathing stifles, but not with pleasure. I’m not sure what it is I’m feeling, but it’s not good. “I was thinking we could drop Aden off at daycare and catch some breakfast,” he murmurs in my ear. I don’t blink as I shovel the eggs with the spatula in hand. “You’re off today?” I ask. I feel him nod, and my stomach churns. I was going to use my afternoon to stop by the tempting Valentina Hotel. Swallowing thickly, I turn in his arms, placing my hands on his chest. “I want to,” I whine, “…but I actually have to get to yoga class in

an hour.” He blinks, meeting my eyes. “Yoga class? When’d you join?” “Yesterday. I told the instructor I’d be there today to see how it goes. She’s giving me a free trial. She’s one hundred percent sure I’ll love it.” I grin. He releases me, scratching the top of his head again. I press my lips, expecting him to get upset, but instead, he says, “That’s great! We can try another morning. How about some bacon?” He plants a warm kiss on my cheek. “Glad you’re finally deciding to get out, babe. I won’t stop you. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go to the station for a few hours and see if I can play catch up.” “Great.” I force a smile, but deep inside, I’m beaming. I’m glad he’s going to the station because I know a few hours will turn into a full day, maybe even a night. My plans won’t go down the drain. I will be stopping by Valentina Hotel. But will I go in? Will I dare myself to see Ace? After last night, I know I need another taste of him, but how can I do this to Greg, someone who has put all his trust into me? Someone who has poured his heart out to me? Given me a helping hand with a child that isn’t even his? Guilt eats me away as I place bacon and eggs on an empty plate. I set the plate in front of a smiling Greg, and he digs into the warm meal. I care. Of course I care, but I know, no matter how much I want the feelings to fade, exactly where my heart resides. I have to go see him. I need to. I need to know what made him change his mind about going to New York, and I need to know what happened to him three years back. Why was he taken? Where did he go and why? Did he plan his disappearance and somehow it went awry? So many unanswered questions and not enough answers. After getting dressed and packing lunches for Aden and Greg, I’m out the door in minutes. Greg offers to drop Aden off, and I thank him, truly grateful. The sooner I’m there, the less time I will have to reconsider.

I clutch my keys, waving goodbye as Greg’s Titan pulls out of the driveway. When they disappear, I slip into my car and start it immediately. I start to put the car in reverse, but the pearl necklace on the dashboard catches my complete attention. I pause, eyes wide as I slowly reach for it. I blink, lips parted, rolling the glossy pearls between my fingers. I know Greg isn’t a believer in giving jewelry as a gift, let alone a single necklace. Not like this. Greg is the kind of guy that likes to see my reaction. If he were to buy jewelry, it’d be a whole set, and that only happens on special occasions. There is no occasion here, and he would most likely buy diamonds, not pearls. That only leaves one person responsible for this gesture. His signature bonding item. I sniff it, the manly scent of him there for sure. My eyes shut briefly, a smile caressing my lips. I quickly put the car in reverse and pull away from the driveway, way too eager to reach Valentina. I know exactly where it is. Right off the coast. Only fifteen minutes away. I pull up in ten minutes. Yes, I’m that eager. I clutch the wheel after parking the car, staring ahead at the grand hotel. Stacked room on top of room, the tinted windows reflect onto me, the white paint, orange stucco roof, and the building’s entire ensemble reminding me of an expensive Spanish home. My pulse sounds in my ears. “What the hell are you doing?” I scold myself in a hiss. “Why are you here? Why’d you give in?” I look towards the entrance as guests enter and depart, knowing Ace is just a few floors up. I sit back against the seat, my head resting on the leather. My eyelids seal, hoping I’ll come to my senses. I don’t. I’m here for a reason. I had it planned ever since last night when I fingered and toyed with myself until I shattered into pieces. I want to cum like that again, but this time, around him.

I glance down at my black yoga pants and plum workout tank. This won’t do. That’s what I get for lying. I start the car and pull out of my parking space. There’s a place just around the corner, a small but pretty expensive boutique. It’s a favorite hidden gem of mine, the place I go when I want something nice. Special. I want to surprise him, so I pick out a trench coat from the rack along with some lacey panties. I finger the glossy pearls that were on the dashboard before placing them in my purse and putting my items on the checkout counter, remembering just how much he loves them. I recall the time he bound them around my wrists, locking me up and owning me. Taking me in a way I’d never been taken before. From behind, a sacred place only he’s invaded. I swipe my card, and after being handed my bag, I dash out the glass door, my cheeks flushed from vivid memories. Odd, considering it’s one of those thick and humid days in Creole. I drive back to Valentina, grab my shopping bag and purse, the strappy pair of spare heels from my junky trunk, and my keys before entering the hotel. Before I go up to room 214, I head for the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes before I even enter a stall. I slam the stall door shut behind me, kicking off my tennis shoes and yanking my spandex pants down. I pull out the black trench coat, and after taking off my sports bra, I slide into it. Next are the panties and high heels. Done. I pack my workout clothes in the shopping bag and then exit the stall, taking a peek in the mirror. I check my mascara. Good. My lips are still glossed. My hair… I snatch out the band holding the ponytail, fluffing my chestnut curls. I pull out the final touch from my purse. The pearls. I hook them around my neck and smile at my reflection, pleased. Not too much. Not too little. Perfect for what’s about to go down. Just what he wants.

I exit the bathroom with my purse and shopping bag in hand, proceeding to room 214, thrilled, anxious, and terrified all in one. I’m on my way to ultimate pleasure. *** The elevator dings. My heart thumps like never before. When the doors slide open, I step out cautiously, palms sweaty, head spinning. I look down the extended hallway. I can’t believe I’m going through with this. The guilt thickens deep within my core, but I overlook it. Starting down the hall, the clicking of my heels and the beating bass drum of my heart are the only sounds I can make out. I pass room after room, and when I pass room 210, I count from there. “Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen…” I stop in front of 214, touching the pearls that are fastened around my neck. I hear myself breathing, and I don’t understand why I’m acting like I’ve never done this before. I’ve been tempted by Ace plenty of times. This same exact thing happened when we first met. I ran to his place in need of release. I ran to him out of temptation. I ran to him out of curiosity and, most of all, hunger. I sought pleasure. Real pleasure I knew he could provide. And now, I’m here for the same thing, with love sprinkled on top, of course. The temptation. That little thing between lust and full-blown love. My finger runs down the glossy brown door. I inhale. I become bold. I knock and wait impatiently. Several heart-thumping seconds later, the door swings open. And, fuck me, he’s only wearing a towel. One single white towel hanging just below his waist, revealing that perfect, delicious V all women’s mouths water for. Despite the scars and gunshot wounds Bianca mentioned, he is absolutely delectable. I want to kiss each one. Caress them as if I can heal them and make them go away. He’s standing here, like he’s ready for me. Perfect timing. You go

girl! He blinks down at me, eyes thin and dark. And then, he smirks, clutching the bronze doorknob. “Red.” He says the nickname so simply yet so deliciously that my bottom lips quivers and my cheeks blaze like a furnace. Clearing my throat, I barge in, walking around him and his devious smirk to the center of the living room. I pace for a second, but when the door clicks shut and Ace turns in my direction, I frown, lifting a stern finger in the air. "Let's get one thing straight." I wave my finger at him, eyebrows stitching. "This is not a game, Ace. This isn't New York. This isn't us chasing each other around, bickering over bullshit." I dare a step forward as he glares down at me, his jaw flexed. "And let's get another thing straight," I breathe, the space between us diminishing as he takes a step forward as well, head tilted. "I’m not here because you think you've summoned me." "No?" He raises an eyebrow. Without realizing it, my eyes drop from his face to his torso. The sixpack… oh, the six-pack. It’s still there. Still glorious. Still sexy as shit. "Then why are you here, Red?" Two more steps forward. I hold onto my confidence, reaching up to unbutton the first button of my trench coat. My hands tremble. Ace's eyes broaden, the rest of his face remaining the same. Stern. Serious. No emotion showing whatsoever. "Because,” Holy shit, am I really doing this? "… I'm tired of lying to myself." Quivering hands land on the last button. The jacket flaps open, and I shrug it off, allowing it to puddle around my feet. His eyes blaze with dominant hunger as they glitter down my frame. His hands tighten into fists, a clear sign he’s trying to restrain himself. That’s just too bad. He’s the dog, and I’m the steak. His mouth is watering for a taste. It’s impossible for him to deny me.

While he stares at me, nearly naked before him, my mind drifts to other places. I've been bold with Ace plenty of times before, but this feels shallow. I feel like an amateur all over again. What is he thinking? Does he like what he’s seeing or is he too busy staring at the four stretch marks I developed because of his child growing to be seven pounds and eight ounces in my womb. Insecurity rapes me. Ashamed, I start to cover up, but Ace stops me, clutching my wrist in his large hand and tugging me forward. Our bodies clash, but he doesn't dare stumble. His gaze, still hot and heavy, locks with mine, and I ache. Clench. Long for him. Desired moisture collects in my panties, and my mouth gapes. My bottom lip trembles with words unspoken. Do you still love me? Do you still want me? Do you see me differently now? WHAT IS IT?! All questions I want to ask but don't. Finally, Ace speaks up, his voice deep and pleasant. "Fucking need you," he murmurs almost as if he's just read my mind. My eyes expand, but the question on my lips is stolen as he crushes my mouth with his, pulling me in even more, groaning with ferocity. God, the first time in three years he kisses me like he means it and I don't stop him. This is way different from the time in the kitchen. There, our time was limited, and anyone could’ve walked through the door, but here… we have all the time in the world. I've wanted this since seeing him that very first time on the beach, and had I not passed out, I would've kissed him like this—passionate yet violent. Wild yet so romantic. Despite all the unanswered questions. That’s how badly I crave him. Impatience gets the best of me. I reach down and snatch the towel from his waist as his tongue explores my mouth. He tugs on my panties, and in no time, they puddle around my six-inch heels.

He presses his hard cock on me, and an unhinged moan bubbles out of me. Ace picks me up in his arms, clutching my ass in his hands as he stumbles towards the sofa. We land way too roughly, collapsing on the cold leather. I don’t mind. Not one bit. Lifting my thigh, he sinks between my legs and adjusts himself. I’m not blessed with patience. He's waited long enough. His cock, hot, long, and thick, thrusts into me, and my back arches, my pussy showing no resistance to his deep stroke. "Fuck, London," he growls, burying his face into the crook of my neck. “Tell me what you need,” he murmurs, his breath trailing down my bare skin. A mixture of a moan and pant escape me. “I need you to take me, Ace. Take me. Own me. Don’t be easy. Be rough. Fuck me. Just—”I release a ragged breath, tightening my hold around his neck, “…fuck me.” His eyes blaze, and within them, I spot the flaming hunger. Those were the words he wanted to hear. He’s wanted to hear them for years. I gasp as he grips my ass cheek with one hand, holding onto the back of my head with the other and stroking hard. Fast. Uncontrollably. Like he means it. "Knew you'd drop by," he purrs, almost mocking. If I weren't so wrapped up in the moment, I would tell him to go to hell. He plunges deeper. My legs lock around his firm, sculpted thighs, and my fingers grasp his ass. His fingers tangle in my hair, and he wrenches back, exposing my neck. Wet, highly erotic moans escape me as he sucks on my skin, still thrusting, bringing us to the brink as he marks me. He slightly releases the hold on my hair, bringing his mouth down on mine. His sweet tongue slips through my lips, tasting me, his other hand running up my thigh until he reaches my swelling clit. He circles the delicate nub torturously, and my lips part,

breaking the embrace. He groans, delighted, watching as I shut my eyes and writhe with undeniable pleasure. "You wanted to cum like this, right?" he asks. "With my dick deep inside you.” His lips run across mine. “Yes,” I breathe. “For how long” “For a long time.” He holds on tighter. “I'm here, Red," he murmurs into my ear. "I'm here, and I'm not going anyfucking-where." His voice is collateral damage. His words. His promises. I don’t want him to go anywhere. Not ever again. I want him to mean it this time. Slick walls constrict around long, hot thickness, his momentum ongoing. I meet with him, lowering my chin and kissing fervently. Ace holds onto me but keeps a steady finger on my clit, and as we stare into each other's eyes, the climax arrives. Shooting stars and fireworks I haven't seen in years burst around me, and I cry out, coming so hard around him that my legs lock. "Fuck," Ace groans, the muscles in his neck tightening. He grinds his hips in small circles even after he cums, pleasing me until, finally, he collapses on top of me and I whimper, my walls pulsing around him. We pant through the moment, him with his eyes shut and me with mine wide open, staring up at the ceiling. Pushing up on one elbow, Ace looks from my eyes to my lips. He tips his head forward, and his teeth softly scrape my bottom lip. I’m granted a gentle bite, and I sigh, aching for him all over again. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeats, cupping my face and crushing my swollen lips with his. I nod, breaking the kiss. "Please don't. Stay." He blinks, his upper lip twitching. “How badly do you want me to stay?” I place a hand on his damp chest, swiping the sweat away. “I need you to stay.” "Then leave him." A demand. Not a request.

I perch on my elbows, pulling my hand away. "You know I can't do that right now, Ace. It takes time." "Don't tell me you can't. After all the shit we’ve been through, I no longer believe in that word when it comes to us." He pushes up and pulls away from me, agitated. I push up on my elbows completely, disbelieving how our wonderfully heated moment has turned foul so quickly. Turning his back to me, Ace storms for the bedroom, but I stalk after him, a heavy frown creasing my forehead. Before I can speak, he whirls around, gripping my shoulders tight. His nostrils flare, his eyes dark and livid. “Leave. Him,” he demands again, voice dark. “I can’t, Ace. It’s not that simple.” He pulls away, upper lip twitching again. “Why the hell not?” I start to speak, but I’m not given the chance because he continues. “I don’t like knowing that motherfucker touches you. I don’t like knowing he’s near you. I don’t like him. Period.” “He’s a good guy,” I whisper. “He’s not me.” His voice is heated. A near growl. I stare up at him. He’s right. He’s not Ace. He’s the complete opposite. “My son won’t grow up thinking another man is his father. I won’t fucking have it.” He steps back, dropping his line of sight, and my heart aches. I step forward, gripping the tops of his shoulders. He breathes hard and heavy, grimacing at the wall across from him and purposely avoiding my eyes. “It won’t be that way. Just give me some time.” “Time for what, London?” He looks at me again. “I’m here for you. What the hell are we waiting for?” My arms go limp. I start to lose my hold on him. Noticing my withdrawal, he seizes my wrists before my hands can completely fall, and I gasp, looking from the large tan hands locked around my arms to his eyes. “How do I know you’re here to stay? You promised me, but turned right around and lied straight to my face that same night.” He doesn’t speak. Instead, he yanks me forward,

studying my face. I pant as one of his hands runs down my waist, then back up to the back of my neck. He slants my head back, making sure my eyes stick with his. Leaning in, his lips touching the shell of my ear, he whispers, “I will never lie to you again. No need.” The pit of my belly blazes. Heat travels to my sex. Why is it that, every time he speaks, I always get worked up? “You’re right about this not being New York,” he tells me. “I know that. That’s why I didn’t go back.” “So what is this then?” “This is real, London. This is you and me. I love you. I need you in my life. This isn’t some made up fairytale shit I’ve been holding onto. This is fucking real. We,” he breathes, slowly dropping to his knees before me, “…are real.” His hands glide up my legs, rounding back to my ass. He squeezes my plump cheeks in hand, pulling me closer, his mouth near my anxious pussy. “Ace,” I whisper, shutting my eyes, breathless. “I know you care about him, but you don’t love him like you love me. And let’s face it,” he mocks, placing a kiss on my pelvis and then my inner thighs, teasing. Delicious heat bombards me. “He can’t please you like I can. He can’t fuck you like I can. He isn’t me. He isn’t the one you fantasize about. I am. I’m a witness.” His voice purrs and vibrates between my legs as he spreads them apart. And then it hits me. “Are you serious? You were watching me last night?!” His eyes travel up, no response beyond a subtle smirk on his lips. My cheeks burn from embarrassment, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. That explains the pearls this morning. He saw me… masturbating to the thought of him. The satisfied smile I held onto while I fell asleep. Oh, God. “Hold still, baby,” Ace murmurs. “You were teasing yourself last night, trying to get rid of the thought of me. Right now, I’m gonna make you cum

like my life depends on it. I’m gonna have you thinking about it for days.” Ace’s hot tongue runs between my folds, and a sharp gasp spews out of me. He squeezes my ass again, growling, creating a vibrating sensation that makes my legs tremble. I breathe hard, running my hand across the top of his head. His cropped, curly hair gets entangled in my fingers, and I clutch it, getting a deep groan out of him and a spank on the ass. He’s so fucking good. This tongue, this magical tongue that can make me cum at any given moment, is the best I’ve ever had. It takes care of me. It provides. It is perfection. Ace sucks on my clit, and as I glance down. He buries himself deeper between my wet folds, grumbling and growling, spanking my ass again. I quiver, eyes rolling, legs shaky. He holds onto me, and within seconds, he pushes to a complete stand, wrapping my thighs around his neck. I can’t believe this… this position is one I’ve never tried before. On his shoulders, glued to his face as he eats me like fine dining. A wet puff of breath along with a hushed slurping sound fills the bedroom. My back hits the nearest wall, and Ace squeezes and pulls, bringing my lower half closer, eating me just like he said—like his life depends on it. My thighs fasten around his shoulders, my fingers combing through his hair. I helplessly grind against his master tongue, back arching, pussy throbbing until, finally, I explode. “Oh, fuck, Ace! Shit! Shit! Shit!” My profanity is unrestricted. I cum so hard my eyes cross. Oh. My. Goodness. Holy shit. Best. Orgasm. Ever. As my body dies down, shuddering in the process, Ace pulls back, his lips glistening. He looks up at me and kisses the insides of my thighs as I catch my breath. Then, he lowers me, plants me on my feet, grabs my chin with gentle force, and kisses me

roughly. His tongue sweeps my mouth, and I taste a trace of myself. Then, he says something that makes me crave even more. Running a hand between my slick lips and cradling one side of my face in his hand, he says, “Your pussy, London, is mine. It always will be. He won’t do the things I do to you. He thinks you’re too broken, but me…” He shakes his head, revealing that beautifully crooked white smile. “Well, you know me. I know you’re strong enough to handle anything I do to your body. I know exactly what this sweet pussy is capable of. I know what you are capable of.” He picks up the pearls resting around my neck, and his smile stretches. “We’ll be using this soon.” I bite a grin, pleased to see the exhilaration swirling in his eyes. He’s glad to see the pearls. Glad to see me here. Glad I stopped by. Glad because this means we actually might have a chance.





Thinking Out Loud – Ed Sheeran The wind picks up as I clutch London’s hand in mine. The sun is setting, our day moving way too fast. I tighten my grip around her waist and inhale the salty air, relishing in the bliss. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed her. I thought, for sure, I was overreacting to this feeling— being without her for so long—but I realize I wasn’t. I meant what I told her earlier. This is real, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. We’re picking things up right where they left off, with a few annoying obstacles in the way. Obstacles like that bitch Greg. Picking up her vibrating cellphone, London curses beneath her breath before adjusting in my lap and turning her head to look at me. Her eyes depress as she lowers the phone, ignoring the call. I know that look. I hate it. “I should get back home,” she whispers. “He can wait.” “No.” She shakes her head. “This is his third time calling, Ace. He’ll get worried. He’s a cop for goodness sakes. He’ll send someone to look for me if I don’t respond. I always respond.” “Where’d you tell him you’d be?” I ask. “Yoga class,” she sighs, standing from my lap. “But that was this morning. Hours ago. I should’ve been back home by now.” I laugh at the thought of it, and she narrows her eyes at me, forehead scrunching in a frown. “What’s funny?”

“Yoga class,” I repeat. “Funny considering I bent you every which way less than thirty minutes ago.” Her cheeks turn a light shade of red, and she bites a smile, stepping back and pressing her lower back against the balcony rail as she stares at her feet. Standing from my seat, I step forward and lift her head so her eyes meet mine. “Don’t want you to go.” Our eyes lock. She whispers sadly, “I have to.” “You don’t understand how much I’ve missed you.” She lifts her hand to stroke my cheek. “I missed you too, Ace. More than you know.” Her eyes glaze over before she snatches them away and stares at the rippling sea. The last thing I want to do is make her cry. I tighten my grip around her face. “You know I love you, right?” She nods. “I would do anything for you, Red. But this… this you’ll have to end on your own. I understand him stepping in to help. Frankly, I can’t blame him for that. To be honest, as much as I hate admitting it, I appreciate it.” She looks up at me, her face relaxing but her eyes still filled with guilt. “Why?” I release her, folding my arms. “From what I can tell, he’s good to Aden. Good to you. Probably a better man than I ever was to you.” “No.” Her head shakes swiftly, and she grabs my upper arms, staring me in the eyes. “He is not you, Ace.” Blinking, she releases me and steps back, swallowing hard. “I… I don’t know. I’ll talk to him, I swear. I just need time to think about how I’ll break it to him. I can’t just dump it. It would be really fucked up on my behalf.” I nod, stepping closer. Bringing my hand up, I run the pad of my thumb across the corner of her mouth. Her lips move beneath my finger. I lean in closer, limiting proximity. Her breathing is shallow now, her body still. “Say you’re mine.” Her lips remain sealed. My jaw flexes, and I pull

her in closer, cupping the back of her neck. She gasps, bright hazel eyes meeting mine. “Ace,” she breathes. I cut her off, tipping my head down to kiss her. It’s not rough or soft. It’s an in between kiss. Deep. Raw. Passionate. Something I never thought I’d be capable of, but she brings so fucking much out of me. My tongue dances with hers, our bodies gluing together, setting sun absorbing us. After so many years, how does she still manage to feel fresh and new to me? Her skin is like satin, her hair like silk. Her lips like velvet. Her heart made of pure gold. Everything I need in a woman. My cock strains anxiously against my shorts, throbbing—begging to sink inside her tight, perfect pussy again. I should stop and let her go, but I can’t. And when she cups my balls outside my shorts, moans, and then digs beneath them to grip my hardened flesh, I know I can’t let her go without another round. Grunting, I snatch my lips away and yank down the yoga pants she changed into. Her lips part as she reaches for my shorts, tugging them down with haste. Picking her up by the waist, I lock my arms around her, and her legs wrap around me. Heavy, breathy moans run past my ear as her back hits the balcony wall. Lips locked, I lift her up and slide my cock into her eager pussy. “Goddamn, Red,” I groan against her lips. She’s so tight. So fucking wet for me. I pump hard, stroke relentlessly. She cries my name, her nails digging into my shoulders, her head falling back and landing on the wall. I tangle my fingers in her hair, yanking with an edge of roughness. She starts to gasp again, but I interrupt, crushing her lips. I fuck her like it’ll be my last time because, who knows, it may just be my last time. She might not

come back, and I wouldn’t blame her. Today was a perfect fucking day, but at home, there are more peaceful things that await. Our son. The other man she claims to sincerely care about. I want to get rid of him, go through with the selfish acts I used to do while running Crow, but I know I can’t. If something were to happen to him, she would never forgive me, so I have to let her settle it. My only question: will she? Will she let him go for me? Will she drop everything and run away with me. Me, her, and our son? I’m not sure she’d do that for me. So much shit has changed. She deserves better. She deserves someone who doesn’t have the nagging in his head to go back to New York. She deserves someone who is free of the bullshit. I’m tainted—rotten inside—and I know she deserves a pure soul. She needs someone safe. I’m not safe to be around. As long as I’m alive I never will be. That’s why I need to hear her say it. I need her to tell me. “Say you’re mine,” I demand again, easing in and out of her, gripping her ass snug in my hands. My teeth sink into her bottom lip, and a warm wave runs over my cock. I stiffen, on the edge of release. Her eyes shut. She holds on tighter, on the verge of a climax. She breathes my name, building me up, forcing it out of me. My body locks up, and my cock stills inside her, a guttural noise escaping me. I cum hard and quick, and it feels too fucking good. My forehead drops on her chest, and she pants, placing a hand on the back of my head and kissing the top of it. After catching our breath, she finally whispers, “I’m yours, Ace.” I look up, and she smiles. My heart races, and I want to say a million and one things, but I don’t. I’ve gotten what I want out of her. She’s mine.

Mine forever. She’ll do the right thing. I know it. *** London leaves ten minutes later. When she does, I feel empty as hell. My girl, going to another man. I fucking hate this shit. I don’t want to think about it, but I don’t want her out of my head either. Looking towards the table, I spot my phone, and the urge consumes me. I stand and pick it up, wanting so badly to get to the bottom of this. I was betrayed, but by whom? I was kidnapped and beaten, and someone gave that order but who the hell could it be? I’m not in New York. I promised I wouldn’t go back, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t figure out who it was. I grab the small composition book off the counter and flip through the pages, searching for a number. Stella Baker, my former lawyer. As much as I can’t stand the nosey bitch, she’d know pretty much everything about my case. When I come across it, I pause, clutching my phone in hand. “Fuck,” I sigh, hesitating on dialing. I should just do like Maurice did. Forget about the past. Forget about the business and focus on a clear future. Get out while I’m still breathing. Damn. Unfortunately, that’s not who I am. I’m fucked up in the head. I still don’t know why I’m alive. I hate unanswered questions. I hate feeling weak. I hate feeling like I’ve lost. I owe it to my men to figure out what went down. They died in my honor. I will never forget that. But it can’t be right now. Sighing, I shut the notebook and pick up my phone. After hitting the call button, I press the receiver to my ear. “What’s up, man?” Maurice answers, his voice loud. There’s music in the background. “Busy?” I ask. “Not at all. Just got to the bar on Monterrey.” I run my fingers through my hair, glad to hear he’s out and about. I could use the same treatment.

“I’ll meet you there. I need a fucking drink.” He laughs. “I’ll be sure to save you a seat.” *** I arrive at the bar in twenty minutes. From the door, I spot Maurice in faded jeans, a brown V-neck, and a fresh trim sitting at the end of the counter, laughing with the male bartender about the soccer game playing on the screen above. Friendly Italian motherfucker. I’m not sure how he can be. His childhood is similar to mine. An abusive father. Sick mother. Running a big business and wanting badly to set it free—to get away and start fresh. I walk towards him and pull out the empty barstool to his right. “Ayyy!” he cheers, clapping my shoulder with a wide grin. “You actually showed up.” I nod, and he looks at the bartender. “Give my man here a glass of Henny on the rocks. Man needs a hard drink!” He releases my shoulder but not before giving it a quick shake. The bartender hands me my drink, and I take a quick sip before asking, “What made you want to come out and drink? Cousin bugging you?” He laughs after taking a swig of his beer. “Nah, she’s busy. She’s working with her assistant on an upcoming project. It has to be done before she heads to Belgium. I told her I would leave. Apparently, I’m a distraction,” he chuckles. “I bet. She’s always felt something for you.” He shrugs. “Felt something for her ever since I first laid eyes on her. Remember when we were seventeen and we went to that kickback?” I smirk. “How could I forget that?” “She was so fucking wasted. You got tired of babysitting and handed her off to me.” “And I told you if you put your hands on her I would break ‘em off.” We laugh out loud, catching the attention of a few lone drinkers. “Man, it was so fucking hard not to. She kept teasing me too, trying to get me to touch her and take her panties off. Luckily, she passed out. Not even

gonna lie,” he says, lifting his bottle and grinning, “I didn’t want to stop her.” “Why did you?” “Ehh… you’re like a brother to me. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t jeopardize our friendship.” I nod. “And look at you two now. Probably fucking like jackrabbits.” “A real man never kisses and tells, my brother.” He takes a gulp of his Corona. “Kinda fucking weird talking about it with you now that I’m thinking about it.” I shrug. “It is what it is.” It grows quiet between us for a mere moment. I lift my glass to my lips and finish it off before summoning the bartender for another. When I adjust in my seat, I feel Maurice’s bright brown gaze on me. I don’t look. “Hate when people stare,” I mutter. “I’m just a little worried about you, man.” “Don’t be.” “You’re sure you’re alright?” I try my hardest not to grit my teeth. “Fine.” He sighs, placing his empty bottle down. “I just… it’s fucking crazy, the shit they did to you, man. I’m still trying to figure out who it could’ve been. You worked with so many people…” “Yeah, I know.” The list of suspects is endless. Maurice snaps his fingers, eyes expanding as he turns fully in my direction. “Oh shit!” he shouts. “I bet it was that motherfucker Peter.” He slams a fist on the bar as if he’s right on point. I look at him, eyes narrowed. “You know him?” “Bianca told me about him. Told me he was trying to get in the way of you and London by telling her about her brother and his secrets. She also told me you threatened him. Kidnapped him but ended up letting him go or some shit. Stupid move, man. No loose ends. Uncle Bruce always made that clear.” I look away, studying the various bottles of liquor on the counter across from me. “Who knows,” Maurice shrugs, “Maybe he was returning the favor. Maybe he wanted the life you

lived. The money.” “I thought about it being him, but he was too much of a pussy to cross me again.” “Hey,” he lifts his hands, unsure. “Never know. After something like that happening, a man will grow balls overnight to turn it back around and gain control. He knows your weaknesses. Your lifestyle. He wanted something and never got it, so maybe he tried taking a different route.” He shrugs. “Worked the system, found out who your enemies were. Studied you and figured out your weaknesses. That pussy had nothing but time on his hands. Selling watches?” he scoffs, finding it hysterical. “What a dumbass job.” I focus on him as his eyes travel up to the TV. Fuck. Maurice and his wise-ass mind. I have to admit, though, his words are sinking in. It makes sense, but Peter Bridges wouldn’t cross me. He’s not smart enough to cross me and get away with it. Then again, the shit with Krane was unexpected. I trusted him like family. What if he gave Bridges information, cut a deal with him? This Peter fuck is still alive somewhere. I doubt he’s still in New York. If it was him, he knows I’ve gotten away and I’m sure he knows that West is dead. He has a clue. He’s probably watching me now… watching London. Shit. London. I stand from my stool, dropping a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “Gotta go.” Maurice nods, lifting his bottle at me as I step back. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Bianca wants to gather everybody for dinner before she flies out to Belgium. London included.” “Yeah… we’ll see.” “Ace,” Maurice calls before I can get away. I turn around, lifting a brow. “She still loves you… London. You were all she ever talked about whenever I was around. She will never be over you.” I look him over, his tan skin damp with sweat and

shimmering beneath the lights. Nodding apprehensively, I turn back around and exit the bar, jumping into my car and driving to Creole.





Here For You – Laura Welsh When I enter the house, Aden is fast sleep in my arms, his head on top of my shoulder. Greg hops up from the sofa and rushes my way. He carefully takes Aden from me and then rushes upstairs as quietly as possible. Moments later, as I place my things down, Greg returns to the living room, sighing as he looks at me. “Where have you been, London?” he asks, nearly breathless. “I was starting to get worried.” I sit on the sofa. “Why are you so worried?” I put on my faux smile, pretending everything’s okay. “I took Aden to the park after I picked him up from daycare and then we went for ice cream.” “Oh.” He nods but clearly, he’s still bothered. “I’ve been home for about four hours now. I could’ve met up.” I turn his way, apologizing with my eyes. I can’t believe how easy it is for me to lie now. “I’m sorry,” I murmur as he takes the spot beside me. “I was just doing a lot of running around. While we were out, I left my phone in the car. Stupid mistake. Won’t happen again.” His lips flatten, and he studies me, a sign he’s disappointed but that it’s okay. My chest hurts— actually it’s more like my heart. I hate that I’m lying to him. During those four missing hours, I was tangled up with Ace Crow, and I loved every second of it. Greg hardly crossed my mind. I can’t believe myself. How selfish of me.

It’s now when I realize the scent of warm spices. “What’s that smell?” Greg stands and reaches for my hand. He leads the way to the kitchen, and on the dining table are three plates topped with baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus. My heart works hard to accept what he’s done. Damn it. I’m such a bitch! While I was out sleeping around and indulging in Crow, he was here cooking… waiting for me. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what to make, but I went with what we had. You left some chicken in the sink to thaw out. I hope you don’t mind that I used it.” He forces a boyish smile at me, scratching the top of his head uncertainly. When I don’t respond, he goes on with, “I can heat one up for you if you want me to.” Silence runs thick between us. I don’t blink. I just stare at the plates. He did this… for me? “Greg, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. He shakes his head, stepping towards me and tucking my hair behind my ears. “No, it’s okay, babe. I understand. You got caught up. No need to be upset.” My mouth works hard to put on a genuine smile. It’s impossible to feel genuine when I feel so selfish. So ignorant. “You can heat one up for me,” I tell him. “I just want to take a shower first.” Rinse the scent and trace of Ace off of me before he senses it. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll heat it up as soon as you’re finished.” He kisses the center of my forehead before stepping around me and making his way to the living room again. I watch as he sits on the sofa and folds one leg on top of the other, his face content. He doesn’t seem bothered at all. I’m overreacting. I need to calm the hell down before he detects my betrayal. Shit. I suck at this. I round the corner and quietly make my way up the stairs. Once I’m in the bathroom, I strip out of the clothes and stuff them in the hamper. I then start the shower, making sure the water is close to scalding. Hot, but not burning point I step into the glass shower, shutting the door

behind me and drowning beneath the stream of water. It runs through my hair, rinsing off his touch. His lips all over me. Everything is gone except that raw feeling between my legs. I hate that I’m doing this—getting rid of the idea of him—but right now, I need a clear head. Greg is waiting downstairs for me, expecting me to be a good girlfriend and cuddle beneath him. How can I do that after having such a passionate afternoon with another man, though? How I can I be so inconsiderate? I decide that, instead of going back downstairs, I’ll go to sleep. I slip into some pajamas and tuck myself under the blankets. The bed is cool and comforting. I sigh, and I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear the bedroom door creak open and footsteps come my way. I close my eyes, knowing it’s Greg. He sighs as he rounds my side of the bed, most likely looking at me, another wave of disappointment hitting him. I bet he feels terrible, like he’s done something wrong. He’s done nothing wrong. He is perfect, and it’s sad that I’m willing to destroy that. I hear shuffling from the closet, and then the door shuts. I expect him to come to bed with me, but he walks out of the room again. I wait it out about fifteen minutes before climbing out of bed and tiptoeing down the hallway and stairs. I take a peek around the corner and spot a large lump on the sofa, snoring loud in the air. He’s sleeping on the couch? Is he onto me or is he giving me space because he thinks he’s done something wrong? Greg is sensitive when it comes to me, yet clueless about how to handle me. I frown as I walk back up the stairs and down the hallway. I enter the bedroom and shut the door behind me, but once I turn around and spot a tall, looming shadow in front of the open window, my heart comes to a frozen standstill, and I start to scream. The shadow rushes for me, covering my mouth. He drags me to the bed and lays me down, his hand

still pressed on my lips, his solid, massive body pressed against mine. “Just me.” Ace’s voice slices through the dark. I blink, eyes wide. He pulls his hand away, and I look towards the open window. “Ace? What the hell are you doing here? How do you keep getting inside?!” “Learn to lock the house up.” “I shouldn’t have to. This is my home. I live with a man of the law. We live in the suburbs for Christ’s sake.” “Doesn’t mean shit can’t happen. Not everyone knows that. My son lives here. If it was that easy for me to get in, imagine a fucking burglar waltzing in this place.” “You’re exaggerating.” “No,” he grips my chin tight for one second, stroking it with his thumb in the next. “I just want you safe.” I push up on my elbows, meeting his eyes through the darkness. I can barely see him, but the streetlights filtering in give a little leeway. “What makes you think I’m not safe?” I ask in a whisper. He looks towards the door before standing up straight and going to lock it. I wait for a response, but unfortunately, I’m not granted one. “Ace, you can’t just show up like this… not here. I told you that.” He looks down at me, smirking. “What, am I cock blocking?” As badly as I want to smile from his smart-ass remark, I don’t. “He wasn’t going to attempt anything anyway. You’re acting off. He realizes.” “Why are you watching us?” “Watching you.” “Why are you watching me?” I retort. “You’re the love of my life. It’s my job to see that you’re safe.” “Greg is perfectly capable.” “Apparently not if I’m standing right here in his bedroom.” He folds his arms, his grey T-shirt

tightening around his biceps. He looks over his shoulder briefly before meeting my eyes again. “Aden…” His voice cracks a little. I shake my head. “Ace… no.” He steps forward, jaw locking. “Don’t tell me no.” “You can’t,” I snap, hissing. “It’s too risky right now.” Ace glares at me for a moment. I don’t know why I find it unexpected, considering how impatient he is, but he heads for the door, unlocking it and walking right out. I hop from the bed, ready to storm after him, but realize I have to keep my steps light. He continues his stroll, and my heart speeds up a notch as he turns for Aden’s door, opening it casually as if he belongs here. I’ve never been so afraid of getting caught. I feel like I’m fifteen again, sneaking my boyfriend through my bedroom window. Greg could wake up at any minute. He’s not a heavy sleeper at all. The smallest disturbance would snap him right out of it. Luckily, Ace doesn’t make a sound. He’s agile, always has been, and I’m so thankful for it right now. I walk down the hallway quietly and enter Aden’s bedroom. I crack the door shut behind me, and when I turn, I start to snap on him, but it’s when I see Ace on his knees, watching Aden as if he’s some rare and beautiful masterpiece, that I stop myself. I come to my senses, realizing this is his son. His first and only child. He didn’t get the chance to witness the beauty of him being born. He missed out on that opportunity and the first three years of his life, and I know it kills him inside to think about. Reaching forward, Ace strokes Aden’s hair. He’s gentle. I’ve never seen him so soft. So calm. Aden sighs, but he doesn’t move. Ace continues stroking his hair then starts to whisper to him. “You will meet me one day. You and your mother will come first in my life. Love you and I hardly even know you.” A warm smile appears on his lips, but it soon fades as he stops running his

fingers through his hair. Seconds later, he snatches his hand away, standing up straight. He then turns my way slowly, the blue nightlight in the corner revealing his glistening eyes. “Ace,” I call. I reach for him, but he walks around me, leaving the bedroom without a word. I follow after him, taking a quick look towards the staircase before entering my bedroom again. Ace nears the window, and after I shut the door as quietly as possible, I rush for him, grabbing his hand before he can make an escape. “What’s wrong?” I ask as his eyes land on mine. “Leaving.” “Why?” “I only stopped by to see you got home safely, London. Shouldn’t even be here.” I ignore his last statement. “What happened in there?” I ask in a whisper. He looks me over, but I see the hurt in his eyes. His entire face grows pained as he sighs and turns around, climbing through the window. Sad, I look out and watch him climb over to the balcony. He takes the stairs the rest of the way down, but before he crosses the street, he looks back at me. Inside, I’m crying for him. Ace is hurting. He’s dying inside. His own son doesn’t even know him. He’s contemplating. I want to stop him. I want to run out and tell him that it will be okay in the end, but I know I can’t yet. And he knows I can’t. Not right now. It doesn’t take long for Ace to turn his back to me, unlock his car, and climb in. I hear the car come to life, and it takes him less than ten seconds to put it in drive and pull away. I watch him drift down the street until I no longer see his taillights. Sighing, I gingerly close the window. I start to lock it, but I stop myself. Although it’s a gigantic risk, I hope he returns. I hope he at least calls. I climb into bed again, and to my surprise, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. I snatch it up, my heart pounding with glee. “Hello?” I answer.

“See you tomorrow, London.” I cling to the phone, sinking beneath the cozy warmth of my sheets. The pit of my belly becomes hot and fuzzy. I close my eyes, feeling my sex tingle in remembrance of the events that took place in his hotel only hours ago. For the second time today, he asks, “Know I love you, right?” I nod as if he can see me. “I know.” “Good.” “You know I love you, right?” I murmur. “I know.” I can feel his smile through the phone. I’m sure he’s fighting it, but it’s there. “He will meet you one day,” I confirm. He lets out a light scoff. “That I know as well.” A smile touches my lips. “Goodnight, Ace.” “Night, Red.” I hang up, and my heart swells. After placing the phone on the nightstand, I snuggle beneath my blanket and fall asleep. Thoughts of him linger. Romantic thoughts. Thoughts of knowing that he is mine and that this is love. That he’s fighting and working hard for us. Keeping me close. My eyes pop open when I realize what I must do. Greg. I have to let him go. I have to do what’s right. I must follow my heart.





Losing My Way – Justin Timberlake My son. My blood. So perfect. Leaving him cuts me in two. I don’t know him well, and he doesn’t know a single thing about me, but I feel like I’ve known him all my life. But watching him sleep, not knowing who I am or that I even exist, slays my heart. How can I adore someone so small? So innocent? Someone who doesn’t need a man like me in his life? I can’t taint my child. I don’t want him to grow up the way I did. Fucked up in the head, always seeking power. Wanting a kingdom as badly as I want to breathe. Wanting to be a ruler. He deserves to be free, but can he be that way with me around? What if he picks up my traits? Becomes selfish and stubborn and murderous? What if he finds out about my past when he’s older? The things I did out of greedy habits and desires? He would hate me. What if… I rest my forearm on my forehead, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel bedroom. The fan spins and spins. My blood swims in my ears. I feel like I’ve lost my way. I don’t know what the fuck I want anymore. I know I want them, but outside of them… what do I want? The clock on the wall ticks with every heavy heartbeat. It’s dark. Late. I left London’s place three hours ago, but I’m still wide awake.

My son… London… Do they need me, or am I fooling her and myself into thinking they do? To be honest, with all they’ve been through because of my mistakes, they’re better off without me. But even if that is true, I can’t let them go. I’m selfish as fuck when it comes to what I want. They are what I want. What I need. Call me selfish. What the fuck do I care? I refuse to let them go. They. Are. Mine.





Dead In The Water – Ellie Goulding When I awake, I hear voices downstairs. They’re deep. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and yawning before climbing out of bed. I freshen up, change into a comfortable outfit, and then make my way downstairs. As I round the corner, I spot Greg sitting at the table and Maurice sitting across from him, a mug of coffee in hand. “Maurice,” I say, pleased to see him. “London Bridge!” He stands from his chair to give me a hug. “Feeling well?” “Yes. I’m great.” I feel Greg look at me, but I avoid his eyes. Last night I wasn’t feeling too hot, and he noticed. Now that I’m “pretending”, he’ll know something is up for sure. But he won’t figure it out right now. “Is Bianca with you?” I ask. “Yeah,” he points to the patio door. “Out back at the pool with lil’ Aden.” “Ahh. Of course.” I walk past him and towards Greg. I place a kiss on his cheek, and he stiffens, forcing a smile. I don’t linger. I know he won’t say anything around Maurice, so I make my way to the patio door, stepping out into the bright, burning sun. The glorious rays beam down on me, and I point my face towards the warmth, absorbing it before I make my way to the pool. Bianca and Aden are sitting on the edge, their feet dangling in the water. “Morning, sleepy head!” Bianca shouts as I near them. I smile, placing a hand above my brow line.

“You’re here so early.” “Yeah, well I’m leaving out for Belgium tonight, remember?” “Oh.” I press my lips, stepping around her and sitting beside Aden. I kiss the top of his head, and he grins, kicking his feet in the water. “Aden, why don’t you go and get your new toy car set and show Auntie Bianca?” “Oh yeah!” Eager to show Bianca as soon as possible, he draws his feet out of the water, splashing us and getting a few laughs as he runs to the patio door. I watch him enter, and when Bianca turns my way, I swallow hard. “I’m sorry about the other day.” “Pshh.” She shrugs. “I understood, London. Don’t apologize for how you felt. There are plenty of times when I acted permanently during temporary feelings.” Her dimples show. I smile with her. “I assume you two are on better terms?” “Yes. Way better.” “Good.” “I’m, uh, going to tell Greg tonight,” I inform her. Her face contorts, confused. “Tell him what?” “That maybe we should take a break…” Her eyes thin. “A break?” She shakes her head. “Let’s be realistic here, London. It will be more than a break. It will be permanent.” She kicks her feet in the water, lowering her gaze. “You’ll break his heart.” “I can’t keep lying to him or myself, Bianca.” She looks up at me, her face softening. “And sooner or later, he is going to meet Aden without asking me. I can’t keep holding it off.” “You think that’s a good idea right now?” “What do you mean?” I ask cautiously. “I mean… well, he’s only been back for a few days. Yes, I know he loves you and you love him, but what are his motives, London? Do you even know? Has he told you his plan? Is he really back for you and Aden or will he return to what he was doing as soon as he has you two in his clutches?”

I study her face, eyes wide. I didn’t think of it that way. I had no reason to. He’s here, and it seems he’s really around for us. He said he wouldn’t go back… he promised. And Ace Crow doesn’t break promises… well, before he didn’t. “I just—think you should give it more time. See what Ace is really about, ya know?” I nod, but inside, I’m upset. “I… spent a lot of time with him at his hotel yesterday. He showed up here last night.” Her eyes stretch. “Here!?” “Yes. Right in my and Greg’s bedroom.” She gasps, but I continue. “Luckily, Greg slept downstairs.” “He is fucking insane,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “He’s risking it. It’s like he wants to be exposed.” “You think so?” She shrugs. “Maybe to make it easier on you. You know, let Greg have a definite reason to let you go.” Hmm… I didn’t think of that either. Is that why he keeps showing up and planting things? Like those pearls? Greg could’ve spotted them. Greg could’ve come upstairs at any given time last night and spotted Ace. Or even the first time when Ace showed up in the kitchen. Greg could’ve come back home because he forgot something; he can be pretty scatterbrained. I sigh. “I don’t want to keep dragging Greg along. He’s a good guy, and he deserves way better than me. He doesn’t need someone damaged.” She plants the palms of her hands behind her. “If it were me, I’d wait it out. Remember when I told you that I don’t even trust Ace one hundred percent?” She picks up her sunglasses but looks me dead in the eye before placing them on the bridge of her nose. “Well, I still don’t. I love him to death, but there’s something behind him. He may not go back now, but he will eventually. Ace hates not knowing the truth— unanswered questions. He likes to feel on top of things. You know this as well as I do. Now, I’m not saying that you should doubt him because, who

knows, maybe whatever happened to him changed him, but I’m just telling you to keep your eyes open, London. Don’t let your love for him blind you. Ace Crow always has a plan. He always has an ulterior motive. Most times, we never know what it is until it finally happens and we end up trapped in a sticky situation because of him. You, of all people, should know this after what happened in that alley.” She looks toward the beach, and I follow her gaze, saddened that she feels this way. She loves Ace. I know it, but she doesn’t trust him the way I’m sure she wants to. He’s a huge part of her life, but she’s not me. I’m in love with Crow. That’s her cousin, more like a brother. She can see right through him. She sees the things that I can’t. Just like how I used to be when Jonah was around. “I told him about the rehab thing,” she murmurs. Laughing, she says, “He was super pissed.” “Why?” She glances my way before dropping her gaze. “I promised him I’d never go back to it. That I’d drop it. He expects me to be the better Crow. The rare, good one.” “Don’t blame yourself, Bianca. You were upset and vulnerable. You gave into temptation. It happens to everyone. It’s okay to make mistakes.” She lifts her hand, swiping beneath her eyes. Turning my way, she grabs my hands, and it’s now that I realize the tears. “Can I tell you something?” “Yeah, Bianca. Anything.” She lowers her sunglasses, her eyes cloudy. She’s worrying me. I squeeze her hand in mine. “I’m terrified of the new Ace.” I frown. “What? Why?” “He’s… not the same. He has even more secrets. He won’t tell me anything about what happened. It’s like he’s bottling it all up, and I know, eventually, he’ll blow up. I see the pain in his eyes. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s almost hollow, empty, but at the same time, filled with dense, dark secrets, pain, hurt. I know, around you, he probably feels and looks

alive, but with me, he’s a different Ace. He talks, but he doesn’t dare touch that subject.” “He would never hurt you, Bianca. You know that. I know that.” “I know, but until I see that he’s really dropped the past and is moving on, I think I’m going to have to stay away for a while.” My heart sinks to my stomach. I stare at her, baffled. “Stay away? W-where?” I stammer. She sighs and shrugs as the wind picks up. It tousles her black hair, and she tucks it behind her ear, her dangling gold earrings swaying. “Just… away. I’ll focus on working. Staying busy.” She grabs my hands. “This doesn’t mean that I won’t call everyday. I will.” A smile tugs at the corners of her glossed lips, but I don’t return one. I hear my heart beating. Pounding. She can’t go. How did it come to this— trading one Crow for another? “Aden will wonder where you are,” I say, fighting tears. She looks towards the house, and through the corner of her eye, I spot the tears. They drip down her cheek, but she swipes them away, just as Aden comes running out with his car set. “Look Auntie Yanca!” he yells, rushing to her. “Slow down, sweetie,” she laughs, clutching him in her arms. “What’d I tell you about running around a pool. You could get hurt.” Aden apologizes, and she kisses his cheek. He explains each car to her as she clings to him. Her head falls on his shoulder, and my heart aches. I want to cry, but I can’t. Not while my son is out here. He’ll worry. Greg is around, and he’ll worry too. “These are great,” she tells him. “Don’t lose them, okay?” “I won’t,” Aden assures her. He steps away from her, walking towards one of the lounge chairs to play. I watch him for a moment before turning and looking at Bianca. She’s staring towards the ocean again, eyes damp. Her eyelashes flutter when she finally blinks.

Coming back to the here and now, she says, “Aden will be okay. I’ll call and check in, tell him I’ve been booked for work a lot. And besides, London,” she waves a hand in the air, “…it’s not like I’ll be gone forever. It’s only temporary. Only until I know Ace is here for good. For his family.” Honey-brown eyes meet mine. “I can’t feel like I’ve lost him again. If I keep my distance and he does end up going back, it’ll be easier to bear. Being around and watching will kill me inside. I’ll resort to the toxic things. I can’t do it to myself. I have to put me first, London, and so do you.” Bianca pushes to a stand, and I watch her step back, ridding herself of the tears. She extends her arms, fluttering her fingers and gesturing for me to get up too. “But, while I’m still here, how about we go catch some breakfast and then take Aden to the waterpark?” After helping me up, she digs in her Michael Kors purse on the lounge chair, pulling out five tickets and waving them in the air with a wide grin. “I’ve got tickets!” My head bobs as I clear my eyes and straighten up. I adjust myself, swiping the back of my pants. “Okay. How about you get Aden ready—spend a little more time with him—and I’ll tell Greg to get ready.” I start to walk around her, but she catches my arm and shakes her head, her face stern. “Um… no. The fifth ticket isn’t for Greg,” she says beneath her breath. My eyebrows draw together. “Then who’s it for?” She smiles. “My bullheaded cousin.” Tucking the tickets back into her purse, she says, “I may be leaving because of him, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with him while I’m still around.” “How the hell are we going to explain that to Greg?” “Already talked to him. He has to work.” Her eyebrows wiggle as she says, “Busy man.” She makes her way to Aden, picking him up and tossing him over her shoulder playfully. Aden giggles as they head for the house, and I watch until they disappear. When the door shuts, I take a look around. I turn for

the gate that leads to the beach and walk down the wooden steps, my feet sinking into the warm sand. I need a moment. Or two. I sit in my favorite spot, the one closest to the shore. Drawing my legs in, I wrap my arms around my knees and stare ahead, watching as people on wave runners and surfboards pass by. Infinite thoughts fill my head. Tears threaten me. Bianca is leaving, and I don’t know how long she will be away. I understand why she’s going. What she went through was terrible, and I’d hate for her to go through it again. She may be onto something with Ace, but why am I so stupid as to ignore it? I love him. I want him in my life. I want him in Aden’s life. He told me he wouldn’t go back, and it’s my heart and mind that believe him. He wouldn’t do this to us, not after working so hard to win us back. Would he? I swipe at my eyes and look towards the house. I spot Bianca searching for me, so I stand and make my way back, creating a broad smile as I walk up the stairs and through the patio door.



The Thrill - Miguel The sun shines down, bold and bright, revealing me. As I pass through the gates, I really can’t figure out why I’m here. Kids screaming. Parents chasing after their untamed and ill-mannered offspring. Water every-fucking-where.

A waterpark. A fucking waterpark. The works of Bianca Crow. Placing my towel around my neck and ridding myself of sweat beads, I search the park for lounge eight. It’s where she said she’d be. I make it in no time, spotting her, in a tie-dye blue and purple bathing suit, and Maurice, both sitting on lounge chairs. I walk towards them, and when I reach Bianca’s side, I stand above her, clearing my throat. Lowering her sunglasses, she sits up straight, frowning. “Ace, move. You’re blocking the sun!” “Tanning?” I question, taking the lounge chair beside her. “Since when?” “Like I told you,” she sighs, flipping onto her stomach, “…a lot of things have changed since you were gone.” “I see.” Maurice digs into the cooler beside him, pulling out a bottle of Coke. Shrugging, he says, “Kids around. Can’t even have a fucking beer. Water, Coke, and fruit juice packs are all we got.” I accept the bottle, twisting the cap and taking a swallow. “Bianca, what the hell are we doing here?” I ask after the fizziness of the soda settles down. “I’m tanning,” she murmurs. “At a waterpark? You couldn’t do this at the beach?” She folds her arms beneath her, resting her head on her forearms. “Nope.” I stand, crushing my lips together, my eyes boring down at her. “Don’t waste my fucking time again.” Rapidly, Bianca sits up straight, grabs my elbow, and twists me around. I glare down at her beneath my sunglasses, jaw locked. “Can you think for just one fucking second?” she hisses, doing her best to keep her voice as calm as possible. I can hear the frustration though. “A waterpark full of children. Why the hell else would I be here, Ace? There is only one child in my life… one related to both you and me.”

I keep my face even, but my heart betrays me, catching speed. I take a look around as she releases my arm, but I don’t see him anywhere. I look behind me. Nowhere in sight. I look back down at Bianca. “Where?” “He went to get a Popsicle with London. They’ll be back soon.” She tilts her head to the side, gesturing at the lounge chair behind her. “Sit. Be patient.” She walks away, taking her chair again. Hesitant, I walk back around, sitting on the lounge chair. “London isn’t ready for me to meet him yet.” “She’s agreed. We talked about it on the way here.” She looks past me, and beneath her sunglasses, I see her eyes soften. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot London in a black and white two-piece bikini. Her skin glistens with oils, her hair long, curly, and meeting just below her collarbone. She laughs with Aden, but when she looks up and into my eyes, her smile diminishes. She switches gazes between Bianca and me. I don’t look away. How can I? She is fucking stunning. Her skin naturally tan, glimmering. Her breasts full and perky, bouncing with every step. I’m sure her ass is jiggling with just the right amount of momentum. Sexy as shit. Finally, they meet up to us, and my line of sight finally breaks from hers, diving down to Aden. My son. I remain motionless as he stares up at me, and I can’t believe it, but he smiles. Smiles? I don’t know why I expected worse. My eyes remain wide as I study his. Big and beautiful, just like his mother ’s. Chubby little cheeks and curly-ass hair. He truly is perfect “What’s that on your neck?” he questions, reaching up to touch the tattoo. I unintentionally draw back, not used to a touch without warning. He pulls his hand away, studying me. “Aden,” London scolds in a whisper, looking from me to him.

Partially ignoring her, he says, “I’m Aden.” He tugs his other hand out of London’s and steps closer. I finally blink, unsure of what to say. I had a plan of how I would introduce myself to him. I would smile and be all cheerful and shit. I would get him to like me and trust me, but it seems he already does. Why the fuck am I being so awkward? He doesn’t budge, still staring with those big brown eyes. So I speak because, clearly, he’s comfortable with my presence. He’s smiling. My kid, smiling at me? I never thought I’d see the day. “It’s all good,” I assure him. “I’m Ace.” “Aceeee.” He drags my name out, and I laugh. “You wasn’t here before?” “No,” I say, glancing at London who looks extremely bothered and uncomfortable, “I wasn’t. Just got here actually.” “Oh.” He looks away, towards the waterslides and fountains. He then looks at London but grabs my hand. I flinch, his gesture completely unexpected. Then he asks her, “Can Ace come with us?” Uncertain, London looks from Aden to me and then to Bianca. Through the corner of my eye, I see Bianca nod, as if reassuring her. Since when did Bianca become London’s reassurance? I guess shit really has changed. “Yeah, can I come?” I look up at London, lips spreading into a smooth smile. “Uh… sure, baby,” she says to Aden. “He can come.” Aden grins and then looks at me, squeezing my hands. He bounces in his aqua swimming trunks. “Come on!” He tugs on my hand, and I stand, feeling a little awkward but, overall, truly delighted inside. He likes me. He trusts me to come along. Maybe, deep inside, he knows we have some sort of connection. Aden releases my hand and marches for the shallow end of the pool. I follow after him, stepping past London, but before I can get too far, she catches

up, grabbing my arm. “Don’t tell him who you are, Ace.” “And if I do?” She looks me deep in the eyes, her hazel irises swimming with anger. “Then I will never speak to you again. I mean it. Don’t. Not yet.” I look her over, pissed she’d assume I’d do something so low. “You have me fucked up, Red,” I rumble into her ear. “Truly fucked up if you think, for even a second, that I would confuse him like that. You gave me your warning. Trust me.” Relief replaces the anger in her eyes, and she steps back, looking at Aden who’s shouting for me to hurry. I tell him I’ll be in in just a second, but before I go, I ask, “Or can you?” She blinks but doesn’t say a word. Pressing my lips, I pull my T-shirt over my head and place it in her hands. As I do, her eyes descend, studying my chest, my abs, and, of course, the wounds and scars. I no longer care. I want her to know what I’ve been through—what I fought through just to be here with her again. She has to trust me. The only reason I didn’t give up was because I wanted to be with her—because I knew, regardless of where she was, she still hoped I would magically show up one day. And I did. “You were always on my mind.” I run my finger across her bottom lip as she places one on one of the scars. “Always. You’re the reason I’m still alive, London.” Her glistening eyes flicker up, and she watches mine, but I leave no time for her to respond. I turn for the pool, putting on a genuine smile for our son. I will cherish this day, the first day I actually get to meet and play with my child. I will never let it go. I used to think it was impossible to feel this good. But, shit, I’ve never felt more alive.





You Da One – Rihanna He won’t stop watching me. As I play with Aden in the pool, he watches. As I take him to the restroom, he watches. As I wrap him in his beach towel and we leave the waterpark, he watches. He isn’t going to stop. I know why. He can tell something’s bothering me. Well, there is a lot bothering me. We have to talk. Immediately. Luckily, Bianca rushes to my side. “We’re going to order some pizza at our hotel. You and Aden should join. Ace said he’d come.” She blinks, her smile slowly evaporating. “I’m going to tell him tonight. After you and Aden leave.” I nod. “Okay, Bianca. If you’re absolutely sure.” “I’m sure.” We near Bianca’s car, and as she whips out her keys, she turns around to walk backwards, grinning. After pulling out a card, she hands it to me and says, “How about you two hop in the car with Ace? Maurice and I have to stop by to get some drinks and a few other things, right babe?” She looks at Maurice, and by the confused expression on his face, it’s obvious she’s making this plan of hers up, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, yeah. I gotta get a few things too.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Bianca.” My voice is serious. Before I can speak again, Aden yanks his hand out of mine and rushes to Ace’s side. “What kind of car do you have?” he asks, bouncing on his toes.

Ace smiles down at him before looking at me. He winks. My belly tumbles, delighted of course. “How about I show you and have you tell me?” Aden nods, clutching Ace’s hand. “Yes! I love cars!” Chuckling, Ace turns around and starts walking, but he looks over his shoulder at me and says, “Come on, Mama Crow.” Mama Crow? God help me. I spin back around, looking at Bianca who simply shrugs her shoulders at me. “Ace knows what room it is. Here,” she grunts, unbuckling and pulling out Aden’s car seat from the back. After shoving it in my arms, she chimes, “We’ll see you in a bit!” She hops in her ice white Tesla and starts it, putting it in drive and pulling out of her parking space. I watch as she leaves and then look at Ace and Aden, still walking hand in hand. Ace turns right and stops in front of a black Bentley, and Aden wails with way too much excitement. Ace follows him to the car, glancing my way for a small second before returning his attention to our son. He tries getting Aden to calm down, but Aden is way too excited to get in, reaching for his keys, eyes wide and bright. Ace, who is rather clueless and unsure how to handle a wild child, just laughs and hands him the keys. I laugh as well, watching Aden press the button to unlock the car and climb into the backseat. Them. Together. Perfection. So beautiful. I’ve never seen Ace smile so much. He’s happy. Truly happy. How can I ruin that? I decide to get my act together. Enjoy this rare moment. I start towards the car, hoping things go as smoothly as I picture it in my head. Hopefully Ace will keep things light while Aden is around. When we’re alone, then maybe things can become a little more intense. *** The car rides clean and smooth on the open road.

Ace looks up in the rearview mirror at Aden. I look back, watching Aden’s chest rise and sink, eyes sealed tight. “Someone had a long day,” Ace says, half-smiling. “Yep.” Reaching forward, he turns the volume of the radio down, and when we meet at a stoplight, he looks my way, sighing. “I’ve been waiting all day to touch you.” I meet his mellow eyes, shaking my head and hesitantly looking back. “He could wake up at any minute.” “If he does, I’ll stop.” The palm of his right hand presses on the inside of my thigh, and my breath hitches as he forces my legs apart. With ease, he makes his way upward, getting closer and closer to my heat. A flood bombards me, proving just how much I actually wanted him to touch me at the park. A shirtless Ace is a beautiful sight to see. His hand continues up, and I keep my line of sight forward, acting casual. But when he finally touches my entrance, sensually spreading the folds, I sigh, sinking against the leather. A finger dives in with slow tenderness and then another. The light flashes green, and he drives, but he doesn’t stop. In fact, he pumps faster, causing my eyes to shut, my chest to fall and rise hastily. “Ace.” I whisper his name, as if I want him to stop, but deep down I don’t. As if he’s read my mind, he says, “No.” He fingers me, cupping my clit and pressing the edge of his palm down, increasing stimulation. “Ah.” I moan as quietly as possible, whispering his name. He circles his palm, applying needed pressure to my clit. I throb and clench around his fingers, and he groans, thrusting even harder. As he comes to another stoplight, I feel it. The build up. The pinnacle. Sweat builds on my forehead. My legs spread wider, and my body locks up. I press the back of my head on the headrest, breathing his name, body begging for release.

“My sweet pussy,” Ace breathes, voice smoky. His voice vibrates through me, and then it arrives. I cum around those two fingers hard, bucking in my seat and releasing a silent cry. I squeeze his arm, biting my nails into his skin. Wave after wave of heat wraps around his fingers, juicing them up. Pleased, he leans over, placing a warm kiss on my shoulder, still rubbing my clit with wet fingers. Then, he casually pulls them away, brings them to his lips, and licks the warm nectar away. “So fucking sweet. You just don’t know.” He fights a smile and looks away, and when the light turns green, he pulls off. I sink into my seat with a cheesy grin on my face, glancing back at a sleeping Aden once more before grabbing Ace’s hand and sighing.





Promises – Wiz Khalifa To my surprise, we arrive at Bianca’s hotel, a room full of pizza, beverages, and liquor on the countertop. Aden rushes to Bianca’s side, asking for a slice. I step inside, Ace following close behind. He closes the door, eyeing me briefly and smirking before stepping past and making his way to Maurice. I hide my blush, excusing myself to the bathroom to freshen up. Once I fluff my hair and adjust my skirt, I step back out. Ace and Maurice are sitting on the sofa, sharing beers and laughing over something I’m sure I won’t understand, and Bianca has Aden at the counter, eating his pizza. I decide to join Bianca, but as I pass by, I feel a heaviness weighing on me. His gaze. Craving. Wanting. I fight a smile, meeting up to my son and his auntie. “How’s the pizza?” I ask, tousling his hair. He nods, not daring to speak with a full mouth. I place a kiss on his forehead then make my way around him to Bianca’s side. “Here,” she says, handing me a glass cup filled a third of the way with clear liquid. “We’re gonna need it after I tell Ace my plans.” I grab the glass but stare at her for a moment. She looks away. “You’re sure about this, Bianca?” She looks at me again but doesn’t speak, proving she isn’t sure.

“I really think he’s trying to change,” I whisper. “I really do.” “Of course you’d think that, London. He has you dick-whipped. Not to mention the fact that you’re in fucking love with him. Blinded by it. I still see that old Ace in there. I’m serious about this.” Her voice is stern, and it hurts my heart to hear, but I keep my face straight, picking up my glass and downing the whole third. The alcohol burns my throat as it runs down, and I’m glad. I need something to distract me from all the feels. Bianca’s phone vibrates on the counter, and with a sigh, she picks it up and steps away. “Gotta take this.” She walks towards the balcony and opens the door, stepping out and answering the phone. I watch her step to the corner, but when I look to Ace, he’s already looking at me with furrowed brows. He places his beer bottle down and stands, striding towards us. I don’t blink as he sits on the stool beside Aden. “Have fun today, kid?” he asks him. “I did. That tornado water swide was awesome!” Ace smiles, capping his shoulder. “We’ll have to go again.” Aden nods, returning to his pizza. I stare at Ace, his head turning to look at me. Standing from his seat, he makes his way towards me, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the corner. Pointing his thumb in the direction Bianca just went, he asks in a quiet but gruff voice, “What the fuck is going on?” “What are you talking about?” “You know what I’m talking about. I know when something’s bothering her. Don’t play games with me.” “It’s not for me to tell, Ace.” His nostrils flare, his jaw ticking. He steps back, and his head tilts up as he looks towards the balcony. In an instant, he storms for the balcony door, shuts it behind him, and snatches Bianca’s cellphone out of her hand, ending the call.

Maurice hops up, frowning as he peers through the French doors. He then looks at me, but I shake my head, telling him with my eyes that it isn’t wise to go out. Not right now. He remains still, but his shoulders are tense, fists clenched. He loves Bianca so much. He took on the role of loving her, protecting her, defending her after we thought Ace died, making sure nothing or no one ever hurts her like that again. I focus on Bianca and Ace. Bianca snaps at him, her hand out, demanding for her phone back. Ace steps forward, his chest poked out, asking a question. When he asks, Bianca looks away, scoffing. Ace asks again, another step toward her. Maurice walks around the sofa, knowing he shouldn’t go out but unable to control the need to protect her. “Aden, why don’t you go watch some TV,” I say, helping him off the counter. He walks away, completely oblivious to the heated argument going on outside between his father and aunt. I make my way to an upset Maurice, placing a hand on his shoulder. “They need to talk,” I tell him. “Ace won’t hurt her. He never would. You know that.” “No,” he breathes raggedly, “I don’t know that. He’s changed. We all see it. I’m not sure what he’s capable of anymore.” I blink at him, my eyebrows drawing together. “How could you say that? He’s your best friend.” “Was my best friend.” He steps away. “Things aren’t the same. We all know it. He still clings to the past. We’re trying to move forward, but he’s focused on the past. Everything was going good before he returned and made it all complicated again. I thought he was here to change. I was wrong. He told me what he wanted to do—how he wants to go back, build Crow back up again. I didn’t say anything to him, but it’s a terrible idea, and I know it was dumb on my behalf, but I only told Bianca to protect her. She doesn’t want to be involved with that again and neither do I.” “H-he told you that?” I ask in a whisper. Maurice doesn’t nod or speak. He just stares at me.

“I don’t believe that. That was probably before. He’s changing, Maurice. He’s not going back because he loves us, and he doesn’t want to lose us—” “He loves you. You, London. You’re the only reason he came back. He didn’t do it for his cousin or for me. He did it for you.” Maurice’s brown eyes bore into mine before he looks at Bianca and Ace again. I look with him as well, and Ace is up close and personal. Bianca is crying, tears staining her face. “Fuck this,” Maurice snaps, marching for the door and yanking it open. He forces Ace back, but Ace doesn’t budge, not until he wants to. With the door wide open, I can hear him clearly now. “I’m the fucking reason you’re still alive and you want to forget about me?!” Ace barks in her face. “I’m the reason you fight! The reason you want better for yourself! I helped you get there! Who was there when your father beat you senseless? Who picked you up, Bianca, huh? It damn sure wasn’t your dad or mine! It damn sure wasn’t Maurice! It was me. I was fucking there every step of the fucking way!” Maurice shoves Ace back a little further, telling him to calm down. He yanks away from Maurice, who is about the same size as Ace but not nearly as muscular. Ace breathes hard, glaring down at his friend, looking at Bianca, and then turning to look at me. Tears fill my eyes, not only for him, but for Bianca as well. I know how much this hurts them both. Not having family stick around in your life. Having one member tell you right to your face that she doesn’t trust you. Ace won’t show it, not now, but he’s hurt. There are only a few people in this world that can truly break Ace’s heart—me, the son he’s getting to know, and Bianca. Pissed, Ace spins around, shoving Maurice out of his way and storming around me, snatching his keys off the coffee table. “Ace?” Aden calls, standing just as Ace reaches the door. Ace stops immediately, turning in his direction and looking down. Aden meets up to him, and Ace

bends on one knee, giving him a forced smile. “Yeah?” “Are you coming back?” My throat thickens with tears begging to be shed. I press folded fingers to my lips, unsure of what to do. Before responding, Ace looks up at me, and then to Maurice and Bianca, still out on the patio. Maurice holds her in his arms, cooing and whispering in her ear. Ace’s eyes flicker to mine again, a very brief moment, and then he looks down at Aden. Capping his shoulder, he says, “I’ll be back. I promise.” A promise? I’m not sure whether to believe this one or not. He’s promising his son. He wouldn’t break it, would he? Smiling, Aden wraps his arms around Ace’s neck, and, shocked, Ace awkwardly holds his arms out, looking around with wide eyes. Finally deciding to show affection, he hugs Aden back, and when Aden pulls away, he stands to his feet. “See you soon, kid.” He points his gaze at me then turns for the door, pulling it open and shutting it behind him. Just like that, he’s gone, and I’m not sure where he’s going. An Ace that’s been hurt is a dangerous one. He doesn’t know how to control himself. I sit Aden on the sofa and tell him to stay there until I get back, then I speed for the door, pulling it open and hurrying down the hallway, capturing his elbow in my hand. I spin him around, and before he can speak, our lips meet, my arms bolt around his neck, and I sink into him, moaning. He releases a soft groan, clutching me in his arms. Feeling the moment. Living it. He should know we care, that he doesn’t have to go out and do something reckless in order to forget about the pain he feels deep inside. Clasping my face in his hands, his tongue slips between my lips, dancing with mine, getting tangled. This goes on for… I don’t know how long. Ace suddenly yanks back, eyes dark, lips swollen and red.

My face is expressionless, but my eyes, I’m sure, are giving it all away. Desperate. In need of him. I never want to let him go again. “Should get back to Aden and Bianca,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Where are you going?” “Just need a minute.” I step forward, diminishing the gap between us. “Don’t do anything crazy,” I whisper. He laughs a little, which causes me to smile. “Know me too well.” I grab his chin, looking him hard in the eyes. “Nothing crazy. Promise me.” He brings a hand up to stroke my cheek. “I won’t if you promise to come to me tonight.” “Tonight?” I frown. “Tonight.” “I—I can’t do that.” “Then I can’t promise I won’t do anything crazy.” I can’t believe him. Is he really pulling this stunt with me? An old Ace Crow trick? He smiles, still caressing my cheek. I know what he wants. I know he likes to feel as if he’s won. I know he wants me to be with him tonight instead of Greg. Truthfully, I want to be with him too, but… “Aden,” I whisper. “Greg might not even be home at a decent time.” He shrugs. “Leave him with Bianca for a few hours. I’m sure she wants to spend a little more time with him before she disappears.” The last sentence seems to sting as it rolls off his tongue. I can tell by the way his eyes lower and depress. “I will let you know.” “No.” He holds onto my upper arms. “Tell me now that you’ll be there.” “What do I tell Greg?” “Tell him you’re staying with Bianca tonight since she leaves out in the morning. I don’t know. Make up some shit.” I lower my head. “I hate lying to him, Ace.” He tips my chin. “Who do you want to be with

more?” “You… you know that.” “Okay then. Come to me tonight. Stop pretending. Let that motherfucker go.” “I told you to give me time...” He raises his hands in the air, as if innocent. “Fine. Time.” He steps back, sighing, then turns and while walking away, he says, “It’s me, London. You want me. Get rid of him. Tired of begging.” Several seconds later, he’s gone, leaving me standing in the hallway, defeated. *** I arrive at Ace's hotel an hour later. After calming both Bianca and Maurice down, they agreed to watch Aden for a few hours. But before I left, Bianca said something that has been bothering me ever since. "I told you," she muttered, still upset, her makeup smeared. "He's not the same. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting. I guess I was hoping the old Ace would show up and be just a little more careless about it." She shrugged it off, but before walking past me, she said, "I know he won't hurt me. And I also know he won't hurt you. But that doesn't mean he can’t be selfish or inconsiderate, especially now since he's been through hell and back." During my drive to the hotel, I pondered on what she said. I became worried. And, now, here I am, unsure of what to expect once I make my way into his hotel. Will he pretend nothing ever happened? Will he finally tell me what the hell happened that kept him away from us for three heartbreaking years? Who took him away and traumatized him so badly? I don't know. It's even harder to read him now. As I exit the elevator and make my way to his room, I notice his door is ajar. I pause, my heart racing. My automatic assumption is that he's been snatched right out of my life again, so I dash

forward, barging into the hotel room. Breathing raggedly, I scan the place until my eyes land on Ace, standing in front of the balcony window, watching the sea. Relief floods my entire body as I breathe the word, "Shit." Ace glances over his shoulder briefly, avoiding my eyes, then looks back out the window. I expect him to speak first, only he doesn't. He just stares outside. He's changed clothes—a white T-shirt and black Nike jogging pants. Whether I came or not, he wasn’t going to go out to cause hell. "Ace?" I call, shutting the door behind me and stepping forward. "What's wrong? Why was the door open? I thought something happened." He doesn't speak right away. I swallow hard, taking a step forward, watching as he sinks his fingers into his pants pockets. "Knew you'd be here soon." I meet up to him, forcing him to face me, concern seizing my emotions. "Talk to me," I beg, staring up into his eyes. Unfortunately, he doesn't meet mine. He's looking everywhere but at me. "She says I'm not worthy of you or Aden." His voice is dull and coarse. "She says that I've changed." He laughs dryly, shaking his head. "Not sure what the fuck she expects from me after all the shit I went through just to be standing here. Alive." I grab his hands, spotting the hidden pain in his eyes. "Tell me what happened." "Can't." "If I'm remembering correctly, you told me you no longer believed in that word when it came to us." I raise a brow, squeezing his hands in mine. He mimics my expression, straightening his spine. Stepping forward, he cups my face in his hands, his face depressing a little. “I’m trying,” he whispers. I sink my cheek into his hand, nodding. “I know you are.” “Didn’t realize I’d hurt her so much. I thought my disappearance would actually make her feel better. Safer without me around.”

“She still loves you,” I assure him. She does. I know she does. I’m not sure what’s going on with Bianca, but it’s starting to confuse me too. “You love me, right?” he asks. “I do. You know I do.” His mouth hovers above mine. Quickly, our lips meet, and he hooks an arm around my waist, bringing me closer. His tongue immediately plunges into my mouth, tasting me, devouring me. Groaning, he cups my ass in hand. Placing my arms around his broad shoulders, I sigh behind the kiss. So tender. So… deliciously perfect. Pulling away, his lips press together as he studies me for a brief moment. “What?” I ask. He releases me then he turns around and makes his way to the recliner near the wall. After taking a seat and sighing, he demands me to come to him. Confused, I turn his way, but I don't budge. "Why?" "Come here, London," he repeats. His eyes lock on mine, jaw flexed. I decide it’s best to keep him calm. I want him to relax around me, not get worked up. I make my way to him, and just as I start to climb on his lap, he forces me back. I frown, staring down at him. “What’s wrong?" "Bend down." Hesitant, I watch his eyes spark with heated desire. I lower to my knees, gripping the top of his thighs as I kneel between them. I know what he wants next. The look on his face—the look in his eyes— is telling me everything. He wants me. Only me. Elevating his hips, he allows me to pull his pants down as well as his briefs. Once they pile around his ankles, I lean forward, inhaling his fresh, manly scent. God, he smells so good. "Relieve me." His voice, so deep yet so provoking, causes heat to travel down to my panties. "Satisfy me, Red. All this shit I have pent up... I need some fucking release. Understand that?" I nod. "I do." I run the palms of my hands up his sculpted thighs. "I'm here to take care of you," I

whisper, my body relaxing, voice pure and seductive. "I'm here, Ace. You have me." He watches me, watches as I form my lips into a small “o” and envelop the head of his cock, licking the glistening, salty pre-cum away. His eyes shut for a mere moment, and he stiffens before opening them again, watching me like a hawk would its prey. My gaze locks on his, fixing my lips, flattening my tongue, and taking his entire length into my mouth. I gag around his thickness, which obviously pleases him because he lets out a deep, guttural groan. I don't stop. I suck him, going up and down, from the head to the base. My hand wraps around his massive cock, the veins bulging in my palm, while the other hand teases and cups his flawless, round balls. "Fuck, Red." His body locks. I suck harder, bringing my head back up and circling the tip. A warm, tangy flavor spreads across my taste buds, and I grip his thigh, moaning around him, enjoying every second of this delicious man in my mouth. Ace curses beneath his breath, his hand coming to the back of my head, forcing it down. Gradually fucking my mouth, he dives down to my throat, creating a choking and gagging noise. But, again, I don't stop. I've missed this pleasurable pain. This hardcore fucking. I've missed Ace. I will never take what I have for granted. Especially him. Such a crazy, yet internally sweet, man. I'm a witness to the sweet side of Ace. The dominant side along with the almost innocent. Groaning, Ace slams his massive cock into my mouth, picking up his hips and drilling. He clutches my hair in his hands until, finally, he roars out my personal nickname, and seconds later, something warm and thick spills down throat. I swallow every ounce of him until he finally goes limp between my lips. Letting me go, he slouches back in the recliner with a heavy sigh, and the back of my hand swipes

across my mouth as I stand. Sighing again, Ace says, "Fucking incredible, London." He tugs my arm, bringing me down on his lap. I laugh as he places small kisses on my cheek and trails them down to my neck and chest. He kisses me repeatedly, like he truly is in love with me, until he comes to a standstill. I look down at him as he looks up at me, honey eyes stern. "Tonight," he states. "Tonight I will tell you everything."





Life Support – Sam Smith Damn. I never thought I’d be able to make it to this point. It fucking terrifies me to think that London will actually consider me weak. I was locked up against my will. Beaten. Abused. Shamed. Fucked over. Allowing her to know the real story is showing her the real me. The raw Ace Crow. Who knew that part of me even existed? I feel pathetic. I decide it’s best to take London out for some food since we didn’t eat any of the pizza Bianca ordered. We’re both wearing casual clothes. I could’ve changed, but I want her comfortable for what I have to tell her, so we end up at a small diner with an ocean view. The pale crescent moon is high in the sky, the water shimmering like glitter as I look out. The breeze picks up, and London shivers. “Cold?” I ask. She shrugs. “Just the wind. Gets crazy at night.” I shrug out of my jacket, stand, and place it on her shoulders. She looks up at me, eyes gentle and innocent, tugging the collar tight. “You didn’t have to.” I smile as I pull a chair up beside her. “My lady needs to be comfortable.” My line of sight drifts to the half-eaten burger and french fries on the plate in

front of me and then up at her. Her lips are graced with a small smile, her eyes still gentle. Turning towards me, London grabs my hand, providing comfort. She’s so supportive. Other than Bianca, I’ve never had anyone have my back the way she does. I live for her. I love her. She is my life support. “Whenever you’re ready.” Her voice is sympathetic. Soft. Far from what I am. “Ready now.” I inhale then exhale, sitting up a little and staring ahead. I watch the water ripple, the people walking along the shore of the beach. My heart thunders against my ribcage as I relive one particular night. Voices. Darkness. Frustration. There was a man… another voice. Someone else was there. “There was someone else coming around,” I start, eyes wide, stuck on the waves. London adjusts in her seat through my peripheral, and when I don’t speak again, she inquires, “Who?” I turn my gaze on her. “Someone other than Nixon West. He’s the one that actually took me, stitched me up for his own sake, and then broke me again. Nixon West was a dirty cop. A fat fuck that’d wanted to take my father down so badly he ended up getting fired because of it. He killed some of my father ’s men whenever he saw them alone. Every two months or so, my father had to hire someone new. No one of the law believed it was him killing them, but we knew because he constantly threatened us by dropping by and showing his gun off like we were suppose to be afraid of him. One time, before I took over Crow, he told my father he couldn’t wait to watch the business burn—to watch it all fall into his hands. I didn’t make sense of it then because I knew his fat ass couldn’t take us down alone, but I should’ve had my eyes peeled. I should’ve had someone watching him. None of this shit ever would’ve happened if I’d stepped up.”

“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs. “All of it is my fault, London. I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve underestimated anyone that threatened me, including Bridges.” Peter Bridges, the one that tried ruining my plans in New York before I completely fell for London and lost Crow. She blinks, unsure of what to say. So I continue. “Anyway, I couldn’t make out the other voice very well. It’s like he kept his distance for a reason. My guess is because I know him well and he knows exactly what I’m capable of. Whoever he was, he had to be the one in charge. He ordered Nixon around. He probably promised him something—cash or some shit. After you left from the alley, he argued with his former partner in the alley before he shot and killed him. Said he was greedy and couldn’t share. He used Parks’s dead body, dressed him in my clothes, and then set fire to the whole place to make it look like a natural cause—a bullet shooting into one of the car engines. My guess is they didn’t run a DNA test. He had people that owed him in the force. ” “That’s why they wouldn’t let us take your ashes,” she breathes. I nod. “Probably. He didn’t want anyone coming after me if they heard the ashes weren’t mine. He wanted to torture me for however long it took to get answers out of me.” I shut my eyes, remembering how, after whoever the man in charge was left, West came storming down the hallway, barged into the cell, picked my restless body up and slammed me against the rough brick wall. “I will fucking kill you and everyone you love one by one if you don’t tell me what the fuck I wanna hear! Right now!” he barked in my face. Each time, I’d spit at him, bash him. Never give him anything. I flinch as if it’s happening all over again, and London squeezes my hand. When I open my eyes to look at her, I realize I’m safe. That I’m not there. I’m past it. She doesn’t speak, but her eyes beg me to continue. The waitress comes to us, asking if we want

anything else. To carry on our alone time, London requests a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Once the waitress disappears, I continue. “He had me locked up, demanding me to tell him who I made trades and transactions with… all my connections. He wanted codes that only I had. For some reason, people in the drug and gun business trusted me more than they did others. They let me in. Appreciated me.” I rub my wrist, the imaginary shackles still there. “He wanted to know where my money was. Everything. He wanted me to give every fucking thing up.” I scoff. “Like I was some weak pussy he could break easily. I’m not weak. And whoever is in charge knows that. Three years and I still didn’t break.” “That last day you saw me in that alley, so much shit went down.” I swallow hard, my eyes flickering up to meet London’s. Hers fill with guilt. “This was planned long before I ever met you, London. It just happened while we were together. Bad timing.” My head shakes, silent laughter making me vibrate. “You saw Wes get shot, but when you left, Gerrick was shot and then me. Tye was last to be shot, but all my men —all of them—died right before my eyes. The men that had been most loyal to me. The men that I swore I would protect and take care of. The men I took in as if they were my brothers. The men that watched my fucking back every motherfucking day. They looked out for me… and now, they’re dead because of me. I promised their families… their children—” I look down, catching breath. “The person in charge wanted me to hurt. He knew this would happen. He wanted me to witness it, and he wanted me to suffer.” I feel my eyes burning with unwanted tears, so I fight them off, sealing my eyelids and clenching my fists. London is quiet, but by the way she holds my hand, squeezing it as if to let me know she’s here, proves she understands. “That is one of my many regrets,” I sigh. “Something I can’t fix. With you, I can fix things, or at least try. I can start over and be here for you and my son, but for them… I can’t. They’re dead. I can’t

bring them back. I was too much of a pussy to go to their families in person and tell them they died because of me. I was fucking terrified to face them. People that truly loved them and always welcomed me in their homes with open arms, no questions asked. They knew I was a bad influence, but they accepted me.” Too afraid to look up, I avoid any eye contact with London. “He threatened to hurt you… West did. He was testing my limits. Taunting me. Telling me that you’d forgotten all about me, just like everyone else.” “That’s not true,” she replies rapidly. “I thought about you every single day.” “I know, Red.” She eases up a little, sighing as she combs her fingers through the ends of her curly hair. “What happened… to West?” Briefly, my eyes land on hers. “Killed him.” Then I look away. “Took his keys, his car, and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could. Should’ve used better shackles. Chains eventually snapped. Just like that, I was free. They had me in some abandoned home in Rhode Island.” London remains quiet, which surprises me. I turn a little, looking at her again, expecting some kind of overreaction. But no. Her face is even. Content, almost as if she understands. What takes me by even more surprise is when she says, “You did what you had to do to get out of there, Ace. I can’t judge you for that. For anything.” I don’t know why, but hearing her say that makes me feel ten times better. There was one time when she didn’t approve of killing, even if that person was putting us in harm’s way. She accepts me for me. She knows I do what I have to do in order to survive. Had I killed Krane in the parking deck, we never would’ve been trapped in that alley. But no. I gave him another chance. Why? Because I cared for him. Because there was one point when I trusted him, and I thought, once he came to, he’d

come to his senses. I was wrong. He only wanted me dead. I now know better than to forgive right away. Those closest are our worst enemies. “Why didn’t you just give in?” she whispers. “Why didn’t you just tell him where you kept your stuff? Who you trade with? The codes?” I sit up in my seat, gritting my teeth. It’s hard keeping my temper down, but that question infuriates me. “London, I worked hard for my shit. I worked day and night to keep Crow in order and to see it all go to shit like that,” I lift my hands, palms up, “…to see it all literally burn down right in front of me? No, man.” I push away from the table. “Nah. Fuck that. I’d rather die than hand it over to someone else. Whoever planned it had been planning to take me down since day one of meeting me. My guess is that it’s Bridges. He was the only one that rubbed me the wrong way. Although a lowlife, he’s smart as fuck. He probably figured out who my enemies were, searched through the grapevine. Knew I shouldn’t have let that bitch go. He would’ve killed me regardless.” London pulls on my arm, forcing me back down in my chair as she takes a quick look around the diner. I sit with a huff, and she sighs, her head falling and her hair curtaining around her face. I don’t like to see her like this. I don’t want her to think she’s the reason this all happened. Had she not begged me to let Peter go, he would be dead and none of this ever would’ve happened. No one would’ve been plotting to take me and Crow down. We would be happy together right now, living the simple life in some exotic place. The life two people who are truly in love are supposed to live. No faults. No guilt. Just bliss. Peace. Happiness. “This is not your fault.” I cup her face. She looks up, eyes glistening, on verge of tears. “I know that’s

what you’re thinking, but it’s not.” I bring her forehead down, placing a tender kiss on the center. “Everything we go through happens for a reason. It’s life. Sometimes to make us stronger, like you. And sometimes to make us realize the good we have and to never let it go again, like me.” She forces a smile at me, sniffling as she swipes at her nose. “I just can’t help but feel guilty. I mean, Peter makes sense, and he’s still out there somewhere. He hates you. He wanted to be you. He cared about those diamonds more than he cared about his own life. He risked his life once. I’m sure he’d do it again.” I shrug, releasing her face and turning in my seat. The waiter steps up to the table with a small dish and places it in front of London. “Apple pie for ya,” she sings before dashing off to help a new set of customers. London picks up a fork and pokes it in the center, but she doesn’t bother eating it. I’m sure I’ve just obliterated her appetite. “Three years,” she says, almost as if she can’t believe it. I don’t say anything. Can’t. “You know, when you first came back, I thought you were here to tell me you wanted out of my life. I thought, ‘Why the hell would Ace Crow come back right when my life is getting back on track?’” A scoff blows out of her. “Now, I get it. And, Ace, I’m so sorry.” Her voice breaks as she drops her fork. She grabs my face, and her thumbs stroke my jawbones, her eyes wet and pleading. “Stop blaming yourself, Red.” “I know, but—I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t wait. I’m sorry about Greg and that you couldn’t be there for Aden. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust my gut. Something was telling me that you were still out there, and I gave up on that instinct. I thought I was crazy… clinging to false hope.” A smile twitches at my lips. “Weren’t crazy, babe.” Her lips split, revealing that perfect, white smile. Leaning in, she kisses me, wrapping her fingers around the back of my neck and drawing me in,

pressing our chests together. My arms go around her waist, my cock pulsing from the sudden erotic moment. London breaks the kiss, panting as she says, “I love you, Ace. I do. I will talk to Greg tonight. I will end it for us. I swear. I love you.” Those words, the words I wanted to hear, sound good coming out of her mouth. “Make sure it’s tonight,” I tell her. “Can’t handle knowing another man is messing around with my woman. That’s my pussy.” I squeeze her waist, sucking on her bottom lip, my hand running across her smooth, bare thigh. “Your heart belongs to me. You’re my woman. My Red. Mine,” I growl, inching closer to her pussy. She smiles blissfully behind our next kiss, and then she says, “Yours.” Our kissing session continues for several seconds, heat building between us. The breeze obviously no longer bothers her because she shrugs the leather jacket off, throwing her arms on top of my shoulders. We rock unsteadily, greedy for one another ’s affection. Eager, London starts to climb on my lap, but I stop her, chuckling as I interrupt the kiss. “I got you, Red. Trust me, I would love to fuck you right here, right now, but I won’t. Let’s take this back to the hotel.” I stand with her hand in mine, and she rises, picking up the jacket along the way. I pull out some cash, enough to cover the bill and provide a generous tip, and then I turn for the door, but when I look up, my heart stops, eyes broad. My pulse picks back up again, way too fast for its own good. It’s almost like I’m seeing a ghost. The past. Shit, is this what London felt like when she saw I’d returned? To come face to face with someone you never thought you’d speak to again. Standing at the door in a well-tailored black and grey Armani suit, hair trimmed and his pale face clean, is none other than the man that used to be my driver and pilot. The man that flew London away from all the shit that went down. He informed Bianca of my death. One of my fucking men.

Trenton Brookes. Trent. I can’t fucking believe it.





Nocturne – Daft Punk He’s looking right at us, his face solid and serious. He looks from me to London and then down to our glued hands. For a moment, I think he’s the one that turned on me. The one that might’ve been in charge, but as he walks towards me, a comforting hint of a smile on his lips, I know I can still trust him. He isn’t the one who fucked me over. He can’t be. I chose my men wisely. I made sure I could trust them. It all worked out until Krane and Jonah… “Holy shit,” London breathes, staring wide-eyed as Trent walks towards us. “Trent?!” She releases my hand, hugging him hard as he meets up to us. He returns the hug, smiling over her shoulder. “So good to see you, London,” he greets. “It’s great to see you! What the hell are you doing in Cali?” He looks from her to me, his face turning grim. Mine straightens as well, knowing he isn’t here for pleasure. “Boss, I’m sorry to interrupt like this, but there’s something you have to know, and I think you want that information tonight.” “What’s it about?” I ask. “I think I have a lead on who tried to take you out.” “Who, Trent?” I demand, stepping forward. “Bridges? Is it Bridges?”

He raises his arms in the air, as if the cops have just caught him red-handed. “Nah, Boss. See, that’s who I thought it was too. I was wrong.” He lowers his arms, grabbing my arm and pulling me aside. He whispers over my shoulder for only me to hear. “Bridges died six months ago. Overdosed on painkillers. Depression. I’ve been keeping tabs. Can’t be him.” That, I have to admit, catches me by total surprise. “Then who the fuck could it be?” Trent sighs, glancing over his shoulder at a curious London. “I heard through the grapevine that Miss Baker has been doing some extra digging on your case. To this day, she still holds the files, claiming she wants to take it to court and seek some sort of ‘justice’ for you. She’s lying. She’s hanging onto them because she knows something and doesn’t want anyone else to look into it. She knows the feds don’t give a shit about you or your case anymore and they won’t defend you because you were a threat to them. With you gone, they feel the world is safer. She’s our lead. I believe she plays a huge role in this, Boss.” My throat works hard, absorbing the facts. Of course. Miss fucking Baker. My old lawyer. The snooping-ass bitch. I constantly fucked the shit out of her, but I could never trust her, and she could never leave me the fuck alone. She’s a coward. There’s no way in hell she did this voluntarily. “She can’t be working alone.” “No.” Trent shakes his head. “I know for a fact she isn’t, but if we can get to her, we can get to the bottom of who the man in charge is. I was going to go at it alone seeing as she doesn’t know who I am, but I figured you’d want in on everything.” I narrow my eyes. “Doesn’t make sense. Why would she want to see me destroyed?” Trent flashes a half-smile. “You’re Ace Crow. Every man outside of Crow wanted to see you be destroyed, sir.” I look over at London who is impatiently waiting

for me to fill her in. Trent says the words I don’t want to hear, the words that must be put into action. “We have to go back, Boss. End all this shit. I can’t even sleep at night anymore. I feel like whoever it is is going to try and end my life too. I’ve had my guard up. I’ve moved far away from New York but my head’s all fucked up. I still can’t believe everyone’s gone. I should’ve been there. I should’ve came to that fucking alley the moment I saw London come to the jet alone and in tears.” He scolds himself, fists clenched. Loyal, my man Trent. His loyalty is why I hired him. He doesn’t even work for me anymore, yet he still acts as if he’s on my payroll. “How’d you find me?” “My family told me they received a large fund. I did some digging and saw it came from an Irish savings account under the name of Bruce Crow. Had to have someone do some encrypting for me to get the name. It took forty-eight hours, but we finally got it. That’s when I knew you were still alive. Not even Bianca knows about what you have saved for a rainy day.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Didn’t have to do it, Boss. Could’ve kept your money. I kept up with myself, as you can see.” I glance down at his suit, smirking. Shrugging one shoulder, I say, “Owed you.” “No. You don’t owe me a damn thing. In fact”—he digs in his pocket, pulling out a thick white envelope —“I’m giving it back to you.” He holds it out for me to take. “Trent—” “No, Ace.” His voice is firm, face like granite. “This is your money. Your blood, sweat, and tears. You worked for this. Not me.” I stare him in the eyes. I know he isn’t going to take it back. He’d rather leave it on the floor of this diner than keep it. My men could be just as stubborn as me. Sighing, I tuck it in my back pocket, and Trent continues. “Anyway, I knew the first thing you’d do is find London”—he cocks his head in her direction —“so I had someone search for her. Told me she

lived in Creole. Found her license plate number. I came here and watched her for a few weeks and all seemed normal, so I left. But then, I came back a few days later, and she was acting completely out of character. Paranoid and on edge like everything had changed. That’s how I knew you were around.” “That obvious?” My question is rhetorical. “Followed her to Valentina Hotel one day and figured you were there, so I waited. Saw you walk out one day. Found you. I’m coming to you now because I didn’t want to interrupt too soon. I wasn’t sure what your motive was, but as I watched you, I knew you were dying to figure it out but had to put your family first. I can understand that.” “Shit, if you found me that fast I can’t even begin to imagine how quickly the enemies can.” “I moved quick, sir. It helps that she used her mother ’s maiden name as her last name for the house and car. She was being cautious. The first few days I didn’t see London with anyone but her son and another man. Didn’t see you anywhere in sight. I came back several weeks later and there you were.” He grins, giving himself an imaginary pat on the back. “I’m sure whoever tried to take you down came as soon as possible, saw you weren’t around, and left to look somewhere else. They’ll be back though.” They didn’t see me around because I was too busy shadowing Bianca those first few weeks. “That’s why we have to move. Now.” I lick my lips, lowering my head. If I leave after spending so much time with London and even promising her that I wouldn’t go back, she’ll never trust me again. On the other hand, if I don’t, my life will forever be in danger, as well as hers. I refuse to constantly be on the run. That’s not who I am. I’m the type of man that settles shit. I don’t run or fear for my own life. Not a soul on this earth will fuck with me or the people I love and get away with it. Not one. Rubbing the back of my head, I tell him, “Let me

talk to her tonight. Let her know what’s going on. She’ll understand.” I hope. Trent nods, stepping back. “Got it, Boss.” He hands me a business card. “Call me when you’re ready. I am when you are. Those were my brothers too. They fucked with the wrong people.” And with that, he turns around, gives a swift goodbye to London, and then he’s out the door. Through the windows, I watch as the translucent headlights of a Bugatti spark and Trent climbs in, pulling off immediately. When he’s long gone, I turn to look at London. She’s already staring at me. I hate what I have to tell her. I don’t know how she’ll take it but I have to do this. I must. For us. For my family—our family. For my men’s sacrifice. Walking towards her, face sullen, I deadpan, “We have to talk.” And she simply nods, grabbing my hand and leading the way out of the diner, no words spoken. No questions asked.





Give Me Love – Ed Sheeran I rode to the hotel without a word. I’m not quite sure what to say, how to express myself. At first, I didn’t want Ace to go back. I hated that he wanted to, but after hearing what really happened to him and seeing Trent, a living, breathing memory of what he once had, I know he has to go. He has to do what he has to do. This isn’t just his life in jeopardy anymore. It’s mine. Aden’s. Bianca’s. Even Maurice’s. Everyone he loves and cares about could be harmed if he doesn’t step up and settle it. We arrive at the hotel, and Ace walks in first, holding the door open for me. I walk in, and he follows behind me. Before I can get too far, he reels me back by the waist, his lips pressing on my cheek. “Upset with me?” His breath is hot on my ear and cheek. I shake my head. “No.” I turn in his arms. “Actually, I’m not. I… want you to do this.” His eyes expand, shocked to hear me say it. “You want me to?” “Yes.” My eyes burn, tears begging to be shed, but I hold onto my composure. “I want us to be happy, Ace. I don’t want to look over my shoulder for the

rest of my life. I can’t live in fear. I don’t want our son to be in danger. I don’t want you to be in danger.” “I’ll be fine—” “No.” I cut him off, fear coursing through me, and he narrows his brows. “No, Ace. Don’t say that. That’s what you told me the last time. That everything would be okay. You can’t promise me that. These people,” I say, breathless, “…they’re dangerous. They know what they’re doing. They know how you are, what you’ll do. What if they’re waiting for you to come back? What if they take you again, but this time you don’t get away… you don’t come back?” “That won’t happen,” he snaps, teeth gritting. Clasping my face in his hands, he tells me, “That will never fucking happen to me again.” I press my palms on his firm chest, bottom lip trembling. “What if this is a trap? I can’t afford to lose you again—I can’t.” He looks me hard in the eyes, his glazing over. Raw emotion takes hold of me, and I break down. Immediately, he pulls me into his arms, holding onto me, breathing hard. His warm breath caresses my skin, comforting me. Lifting my head, Ace observes my wet eyes for a few seconds. I study his, watching as they fill with guilt and even fear. I know the fear is for me. He’s afraid of losing me again. Anything could happen. Everyone is in danger now. It’s not just him, and he knows this. He’s put us all in harm’s way, and now he must settle it. “This all started after my graduation, the day we met. I was curious from the start,” I say against his chest. “When I dropped everything in Atlanta and went to New York with you, I knew what I was in for. I can’t pretend I didn’t.” He squeezes me, sighing. Then, after lifting my chin, he brings his mouth down to mine, and keeping my face locked in his hands, he kisses me zealously, roughly, making my insides ooze with pleasure. “I know. And like I said before, I’m here to protect you. Nothing has changed about that.” My sight becomes blurry. Eager, I throw my arms

on top of his broad shoulders, and when he picks me up, my legs lock around his waist. Ace carries me to the dark bedroom and gently places me on the large canopy bed, panting as he sinks between my legs. I claw at his jogging pants, yanking them down as he snatches off my skirt. He pulls my shirt over my head and from the sliver of light filtering in through the door, I see his eyes study my breasts, traveling down to the valley between my legs. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers. Grabbing my hips, he brings me towards the edge of the bed, and when I’m hoisted around him, he takes his shirt off. I study his delicious, solid body—the way he flexes naturally. Even with the flaws, the scars, he’s beautiful. A masterpiece in my eyes. Sitting up, I grab Ace’s hips, and without thinking I kiss each scar. Each bullet wound. The burn near his shoulder. Each and every memory is caressed. He strokes my hair, sighing, body locking. My eyes shut briefly, fighting tears. Sliding my hands down his thighs, I pull him close and sigh, pressing my cheek to his stomach. Ace is still for a minute, but then he tilts my chin, and I can’t believe it, but a tear has escaped him. Since he’s been back, I haven’t seen a tear touch his face, but now, in this moment, he’s revealing himself. The rare side of Ace Crow I’ve been dying to see. He knows anything could happen, that going back is a colossal risk. I can no longer contain myself. Seeing that single tear slide down his cheek brings on the waterworks. I break down, throat thickening as I pull him in close, refusing to let go. Slowly laying me back, Ace slides me up the bed and eases himself between my legs; his solid thighs elevate my lower half, his cock right at my entrance. Before he takes me as his and his only, he whispers, “We’ll be together, London. We’ll fight through this shit. You will become my wife because you are my fucking everything.” I look away, the hot tears sliding down the side of my face. He gently

grabs my chin, forcing my eyes back on his. “You hear me?” he demands, voice raspy. “You will be my wife. As soon as I get back, we’ll plan a big wedding and it will be the best day of your life. We won’t look back. We’ll only move forward. You, me, and Aden. Bianca and Maurice. All of us will be one big, happy family, and nothing will break that. You hear me?” I nod as he swipes my tears away. “Okay,” I whisper. “I believe you.” Releasing my chin, he lowers his body, and his lips consume mine. Slowly, he sinks inside me, a moan boiling between our glued lips. He situates himself, his strokes the gentlest I’ve ever felt them. He makes love to me, gripping my face and panting, groaning, thrusting as if it will be our final time. His cheek rests on mine, his breathing warm and running past my ear. I feel his tears mixing with mine, his body rigid, out of control. I cling to him, cling to my Ace. The Ace that loves me for me, just like I love him for him—in every single way. My legs fasten around his waist, back arching, sex throbbing. Flipping me over, my ass pointed upward, he strokes into me again, and I cry out. His hand comes around to my throat, and he grips it just enough to make me feel him. His other hand clings to my waist, and thrust after thrust, his grunts become heavier. Thicker. I feel myself growing louder, constricting around his cock. When he shoves himself in completely, balls deep, I cry out, but he flips me over. I flop on my back again, and just like that, he’s inside me, stroking relentlessly. Hammering his way inside. It’s rough, but he’s making a statement. “I want you to feel me when I’m gone,” he grumbles. “I want you to remember how I fucked you raw and deep, just like this.” He leans forward and kisses the bend of my neck, plunging deeper. In my ear he breathes, “Want you to remember me making passionate, sweet love to you, Red.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and I lace my arms around his neck. “God,

London,” he groans, pressing his forehead to mine. “I fucking love you.” “I love you too,” I pant. I grip his face. “I love you, Ace. So much.” He nods, and in a few short, all consuming seconds, he slams into me one final time. His lips press hard on mine, and we release, hanging onto each other as if our lives depend on it. Breathless, he stills, but his forehead stays glued to mine. After catching most of his breath, he tells me, “We’ll be okay. This time, I mean it. I will be back for you and my son. I will make things right. I will make sure we never have to worry again.” He places a tender kiss on my cheek. “I’m doing this for us. You trust me?” “I trust you,” I whisper. And I mean it. I trust Ace. More than I ever thought I would. When I said he’d changed, it wasn’t for the worse. It was for the better. He’s motivated. He’s dedicated. He appreciates the good has when he has it now. He’s nowhere near as selfish as he used to be. He displays compassion. He lifts me up, makes me feel even more beautiful than he once did. His main focus is Aden and me. His main goal is to keep us safe and happy. He’s sacrificed so much for me. Ever since I entered his life, I felt like I’d ruined his. For years, I blamed myself, but not once did he ever blame me. He’s never put the blame on anyone but himself. Why couldn’t Bianca see that? It’s like she’s only accepting the worse. Like she has no faith in his future. He has changed, and I’ve fallen in deeper love with him. I never thought it would be possible to fall harder for Crow, but I have, and I will fight just as hard as he is. Lifting up, Ace climbs off the bed and makes his way towards the closet, rambling for something. I push up on my elbows, sliding to the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?” He turns around with a silver gun in hand. I gasp. “Ace…” He steps forward, grabs my hand, and places the

gun in my palm. “This is yours. Take it everywhere with you while I’m away.” “I—I can’t use this.” “You were going to use one before… on Krane.” “I was never going to really shoot him,” I tremble. “I don’t believe that. We were in danger, and we’re in danger again.” He squats between my legs. “Use it when you truly need it. I’m not leaving you here unprotected.” Holding the back of my hand, he wraps my fingers around the cold metal, and I swallow hard, nodding. “Don’t forget to take the safety off if you need to use it.” “Fine.” I release a heavy breath. “Okay. Only when I need it.” *** Ace calls Trent, and he arrives fifteen minutes later. Before Trent shows up, Ace packs a quick bag and changes into a well-fitted black suit, as if he’s going to get right down to business as soon as he hits New York. I help him with his tie, and once he’s ready, he kisses me. “I love you,” he says into my ear. “I love you too.” He climbs into the car but not before planting a quick goodbye kiss on my lips. I watch as Trent’s car pulls away, the headlights slowly but surely disappearing. Gone. Again. Just like that. But this time, I’m not upset. This has to be done, and there are things here that I have to take care of. I hop into my car and drive home. Greg’s car is parked in the driveway when I arrive, which I find surprising. He’s never home before nine unless he has the day off. I step through the front door, shutting it behind me as quietly as possible. The TV isn’t on. It’s vacant downstairs, which means he’s upstairs, most likely asleep. Sighing, I remove my purse from my shoulder, and as I enter the kitchen, I place it on the table. But as I flip the light switch on, I catch Greg sitting at the table with Aden asleep in his arms. My heart leaps in my chest, and I press my hand to

it, gasping. I lower my gaze to Aden in question, and Greg stands, laying him on top of the table. Aden squirms, groaning a little. And when I see the grimace on his face, I freeze, head tilted slightly, a deep frown on my face. “Greg…” “I know,” he mutters, running his fingers through Aden’s hair. My frown twisting into a scowl, I ask, “Know what? Why do you have Aden?” “Picked him up from Bianca.” My throat thickens. “How did you know he was with her?” “Because he wasn’t with you… and you weren’t with them.” He looks at me beneath his eyelashes, face grim. I’ve never seen him like this before. Dark. Eerie. He’s creeping me the fuck out. He continues running his fingers through Aden’s hair, and my heart beats a mile a minute. “Stop doing that,” I snap, stepping forward. “Stop touching him.” “I know,” Greg says again. “There’s someone else.” I blink, speechless. “Ace Crow,” he says so calmly that it makes goosebumps crawl on my skin. I glance at my purse, spotting the danger in Greg’s eyes. “H-how do you know that name?” I ask. He chuckles, pulling away from Aden and stepping forward. “Asking questions wouldn’t be very wise right now, London.” “Greg, I—” “NO!” he roars, causing me to flinch and waking Aden. “No, London! Don’t feed me the bullshit. I already know! You fucking betrayed me. Stupid fucking bitch!” Aden stirs on the table before sitting up and looking at me. “Mommy?” “It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, stepping forward. I start to reach for him, but Greg stops me, shoving me back. He then grabs Aden and picks him up in his

arms, stepping towards the patio door. “Don’t you fucking dare!” “You lied to me. There’s a price for that.” “Greg! Give me my son!” I demand, shouting. Aden looks from Greg to me and instantly he tears up. “Mommy!” he wails. “It’s okay, sweetie. He won’t hurt you.” Greg laughs as if that’s a total lie. “That’s what I led you to believe? Funny.” Eyes expanding, I watch as Greg walks to the door and twists the knob. Before he can get out, I turn for my purse and pull out the gun. I take the safety off and point it at him, teeth clamped. Greg comes to halt, looking through the corner of his eye. “A gun? Who gave you that? Crow?” I ignore him. “Give me my son.” “Lifting his free hand in the air, he turns in my direction, a sneer on his lips. I don’t expect him to cooperate, but he places Aden on his feet, and once he’s down, Aden runs to me, clinging to my thigh. He cries, distraught, and it hurts my heart. My child in danger. I swore I would never let this happen. Anger seizes me, but I keep my gun pointed at Greg who stands in the middle of the kitchen, eyes dark, and lips pressed thin. “Give me your gun,” I demand. He doesn’t budge so I bark, “NOW!” He reaches for his gun, shaking his head and laughing silently as he pulls it out of the holster. “Turn the safety on and slide it across.” He does so without a word. “Now,” I pant, gesturing towards the corner with my gun. “Back the fuck up.” Once he backs to the corner, I rush for him, pulling out his handcuffs. I order him to go down to the basement, waving the gun. “Aden, stay up here. Okay baby?” He nods, standing in the middle of the kitchen. I follow Greg to the basement. “Do anything stupid, and I will shoot you. I mean it.” “I bet. Hanging out with a crazy fuck like Crow makes you do crazy things.”

“Shut the hell up,” I snarl. “How do you even know who he is?” “Know things,” he laughs. “I know people that want him dead. I want him dead.” He opens the basement door and takes each step slowly. I order him to go to the corner, near the barred window. Pulling out the cuffs, I cuff one of his wrists to it, and ask for the key. He hands it to me. He’s making this way too easy for me. What is he planning? “Why?” I ask. “Why, what, bitch?” My face contorts, anger flooding my veins. Lowering the gun, I punch him square in the face. It hurts like a bitch, and the crunch of bones makes me want to cringe, but I stay solid. Laughing and recovering with a split upper lip and bloody nose, Greg says, “This was all planned, London. All of it. Me and you. I was ordered to watch you. Pretend to love you and Aden. Pretend I’m the perfect fucking man and a way for you to start over.” Tears prick my eyes. I walk away from him with my gun still held up. I pull out my keys from my pocket, unlock the drawer of the desk, and pull out the diamonds, letters, and pictures. I hurry for the staircase, but before I go, I tell him, “I was never in love with you anyway. How could I be? You weren’t him. I hope you fucking die down here.” I rush upstairs as he shouts and curses behind me. Slamming the door closed and locking the locks, I run to the kitchen for Aden and thank God he’s still there. “Come on, sweetie,” I coo to him, picking him up in my arms. I put the safety on my gun as well as Greg’s, stuff them in my purse along with my keys and personal items, and then I rush out the front door. After buckling Aden in his car seat, I climb in the front seat and start the car immediately, whipping out my cellphone. I start to pull out while scrolling through my call list, hoping to catch Ace before he gets too far, but a black truck comes to a screeching halt behind me, and a sharp gasp fills the car.

“Mommy! What’s happening?” Aden cries. “Nothing, baby,” I tell him. I’m lying. Too much is going on, and I’m fucking terrified. The person steps out of the car, marching for my side. Putting the car in drive, I drop my phone and make a sharp right turn, rolling through the grass and over the sidewalk. Relief courses through me when I make it onto the street, but that relief rapidly vanishes as two black SUVs appear ahead, tires skidding as they turn and block the road. My heartbeat picks up. Terror assaults me. Aden cries harder in the backseat, and I want to take care of him. I want to keep him safe, but I know I no longer can. The guns I have won’t stop these men. Nothing will stop them. Not until they get the person they want. Ace. Before I know it, my window shatters and glass flies onto me, piercing my skin. I scream as the door is yanked open and my body is snatched out. Greg laughs as he pulls me against him, but I fight for my life, scratching at his face, his arms, everything. I hear Aden crying in the car the more I fight, but then a gun goes off, causing me to go completely still. Footsteps crunch across the asphalt, rapid. My heart races as Greg keeps me hoisted in his arms, gripping mine. I keep fighting, for my son, for myself, but its no use. “Stop, London,” a voice demands. I come to a total standstill as I turn towards the voice, and when he steps into the light, I can’t fucking believe it. “Oh my God,” I breathe. He smirks, and lifting his hands in the air, he says, “Surprise.” Then his face stiffens, arms dropping. “Take her out.” “No!” I scream as he goes for the back door of my car and pulls Aden out. Aden weeps, calling for me, needing me. My stomach knots, brewing with extreme frustration. “Please, no!” I scream again. “He has nothing to do with this! Let him go!” Tears slide down my cheeks. “Not my son! Please!” I fight my hardest to set myself free, but in less than five

seconds, after Greg curses beneath his breath and I watch the man in charge walk away with my sobbing son as if he can’t even hear me, I black out. I’m not sure why or what it’s from, but I drown in a sea of darkness. A suffocating, petrifying sea of black.





Blood On The Leaves – Kanye West “I can still trust you, right?” I turn my head, looking Trent over in his navy blue suit as he starts the car. When I ask, he whips his head, green eyes wide, face blank. Then, he blinks, sighing. Running his fingers through his ash-brown hair, he asks, “Do you believe you can trust me, Boss?” “Not sure who I can trust anymore.” I look out the passenger window, watching as the busy New York pedestrians rush across the street as the light flashes from red to green. Smoke billows out of manholes; the air smells of hotdogs, pizza, and a slight trace of cigarette smoke. Oh, how I’ve missed the city. “I know.” Trent speaks again. “I’m sure when you saw me you thought I was a threat.” I don’t say anything. He continues. “Ace, what we had with Crow… that shit was real. I never thought I’d see the day that it all went to hell. We were strong and too fucking smart —” “But someone outside of Crow was smarter.” My face hardens as I watch him, jaw locking. Trent grips the wheel, his line of sight maneuvering from the pedestrians to the cars. Silence occupies the car for several seconds. He doesn’t dare look my way. “I trust you,” I state, terminating the silence.

He looks my way, surprised. “Sure?” I nod. “I hired my men to fight for me. I hired men I trusted. Jonah and Krane were my only faults, and Jonah had his reasons but Krane… he obviously worked for someone who had bigger plans for him. It wasn’t just about getting revenge on Jonah. Went to shit for him, but I know you would never do that to me.” I cap his shoulder. “Let’s figure this shit out and get the hell on with our lives.” He grins, nodding. “There’s one thing,” he starts as he reaches for the stick shift. I look up at him, my eyes telling him to continue. “After this job is done, I’ll be moving on too. I have a family now. A wife. A daughter and a son. Four and six.” “I heard.” “They need me more than Crow.” “I know. And with them is where you should me.” “When it’s done, what will you do?” he inquires. Pressing my lips, I turn my head, gaze pointed forward. I don’t speak right away but he waits for my response. After giving it some thought, I say, “I’ll miss it, but I’ll be moving on too.” A ghost of a smile lands on my lips. “Like you, I have a family that needs me more than Crow. If anything ever happens to them because of me and my choices, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Trent relaxes, sitting back in his seat. I look his way, and he’s grinning, shaking his head. “What?” I ask. “Nothing,” he laughs, grabbing the stick and pulling off. “Just never thought I’d see the day Crow fell in love, had a kid… none of it. For a while, I thought you’d remain single. Alone.” I chuckle. “Shit changes. She opened my eyes.” “Yeah, I see. The old Crow wouldn’t be waiting around, watching Baker ’s every move. He’d have already killed her by now.” I nod, staring ahead at the crimson Audi three cars ahead of us. Stella Baker is in that car. That bitch. Walking around without a care in the world. She should be watching her back. This is far from over. “Yeah,” I sigh. “A lot has changed. Plus, I have big

plans for Stella.” I glance down at the black bag between my legs. “Really big plans.” “Think she’ll talk?” Trent questions. “With what I have in store, she better.” *** Baker is in her office until ten. It’s dark out, windy as hell. We’ve been parked at this curb for six hours. I’m tired, irritable, and I’m getting impatient. A part of me wants to run upstairs, kick her fucking door in, and snatch her out of there, but I know that isn’t wise. It’ll cause too much of a scene. I can’t afford to be caught right now. Not when I’m this close. Trent is asleep in the driver ’s seat, but when I see the doors of her building slide open and watch her walk out with a briefcase in one hand, her cellphone glued to her ear with the other, I reach for Trent and shake him. I don’t take my eyes off her. Trent perks up, swiping at his eyes and looking at me. When he realizes what I’m looking at, he looks as well then starts the car immediately. Baker pulls off. “Follow her.” He pulls off, tailing Baker as she makes a right turn. He doesn’t get too close, always making sure to keep at least three cars between ours and hers. After following her for approximately ten minutes, she makes a left turn, and a tall, silver building with tinted blue windows appears. Condos. She lives here. Trent stops right before reaching the entrance, turning his headlights off and watching as Baker hops out of her car and tosses her keys to the valet. She’s still on the phone, completely oblivious. After putting my black gloves on, I clutch the door handle and push out of the car. “Let’s go.” Trent follows closely behind, slipping his gloves on as I pace towards the entrance. Once I reach the front door, I slow down, walking in casually. Condos like these, the ones that cost close to eight thousand dollars a month to rent out, always have security watching. We can’t look too suspicious. “Keep your

head down, gaze away from the cameras,” I inform Trent. “There’s one to the left, behind us, and to the right of the elevator.” Classic piano music fills the lobby area as we walk in. Spotting Baker at the elevators alone, now texting, Trent and I make our way towards her and seeing her, so alone—so fucking defenseless and so easy to kill —causes something to snap inside me. I’m on full throttle. I feel as if I can no longer be controlled, like I’m here, meant to do what I have to do. Meant to do what I was raised to do. Kill. Rage consumes me. I frown at her back, but I contain my composure. Meeting at Baker ’s side, I stare up at the descending numbers. Trent steps to her right. I speak. “Stella Baker.” I sing her name, but it’s not delightful. It’s dark. Throaty. Her body goes absolutely still, and with shaky hands, she lowers her phone. Before she can put it away, Trent snatches it away from her, tucking it in his back pocket. She gasps and takes a step back, but I tell her, “If you try to run, if you even try to scream, I will put a bullet in the back of your fucking skull. Stay still. Remain casual.” After I speak, the elevator doors slide open, and I place my hand on the small of her back, purposely shoving her into the cart. Before walking inside, I take a quick look around. Trent goes for the camera of the elevator, reaching up and turning it in the opposite direction. I step inside the elevator, and when the doors close, I step in front of Baker, nostrils flared, jaw ticking like never before. She stares up at me, shaking like a leaf trapped in a hurricane. “What floor?” I demand. “S-seven.” She tries blinking her tears away. “Aace,” she stutters. “H-holy shit.” I don’t speak right away, just stare, which obviously intimidates her. As the elevator ascends, I can’t help but think of every way that I want to break her in fucking half, tear her limb from fucking limb.

Calmly, I ask, “Why are you so afraid? Act like you’re staring at a ghost.” A deep chuckle from Trent fills the cart. “I-I thought you were dead. Everyone thinks you’re dead!” she replies rapidly. “No, no.” I scowl. “You knew I wasn’t dead. Don’t play stupid with me, Stella.” “Ace.” Defeated, she lowers her head and tears roll down her cheeks. She trembles uncontrollably, sobbing, begging. “Why are you begging?” “Don’t hurt me,” she whispers, holding her hands up, pleading. “Please… don’t hurt me.” The elevator chimes, and the doors fly open. I grab her arm and shove her out, following closely behind. “No deal. You fucked with the wrong one, Stella. You don’t realize how badly I need to hurt you.” “Oh, God!” she wails. I cup her mouth, pulling her aside. “Shut the fuck up and tell me what your room number is?” I uncover her mouth. “Seven-zero-seven.” She points down the hallway, and I grip her by the hook of the arm, rushing towards the door as Trent keeps watch. I take her keys and unlock the door, and as soon as we’re inside, I toss Baker ’s body towards the leather sofa. She cries out, crumpling to her knees as her briefcase slides across the floor. Trent walks in, nodding as he shuts the door behind him, a sign that we’re clear. Shoulders hunched, I stalk towards Baker, yanking her up by the hair and rushing for the dining room table. “Ace, PLEASE!” she cries. I shove her in the seat. “Remember this table?” I question, gripping the back of her head and slamming her face on the glazed mahogany wood. “Bought this table for you, fucked you on this table, and you betray me?” “I-I swear I didn’t know!” “Didn’t know what?!” I bark.

“I didn’t know they wanted to kill you!” I release the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of hair and snatching her back up. I can’t help but get up close and personal, feel her fear vibrating off of her. It’s been way too long since this has happened. My dark passenger, the darkness inside me, has invaded my entire soul, and he won’t leave until this shit is settled. “Who are they?” I rasp. Her bottom lips quivers, and she shakes her head as blood spills out of her nose. I tug harder on her hair so that it’s no longer pain she’s feeling, but torture. “Ouch—Ace, please! No! If I tell you, he’ll kill me!” I laugh, releasing her hair. “They won’t get around to killing you. That’s my job.” Her head lowers, almost in shame. “Please,” she begs, her black hair shielding her face. Impatient, I march for the black bag I dropped on the coffee table and pull out my Swiss Army Knife and a pair of pliers. When I flip open the knife, the sharp metal flies out, the sight of its glistening, pointy edge pleasing me. Trent comes my way, grabbing Baker ’s hand and slamming the palm of it on the table. She screams, but he covers her mouth. “Shut up and be still,” he demands in a low growl. Baker looks up, eyes wet and pleading. That puppy-dog shit won’t get by me. She played me. She fucked me over. She knows something. “For every minute of time you waste by not giving me answers, I will clip a finger off. If it reaches ten minutes, I run out of fingers, and you still haven’t given me the information I want to hear, I will bleed you dry.” Gripping her face tight in my hand, I ask through gritted teeth, “Do you understand?” She nods, her hair flying all over the place. Releasing her, I step back and walk around the table, listening as she moans in fear. I pick up the briefcase lying on the floor and bring it to the table. When I open it, I flip through the stacks of paper, lipstick, and some other junk until I reach the bottom. A blue folder with my name on the tab.

My eyes flicker up to Stella, but hers are shut, most likely praying to be spared. Flipping the folder open, I look through its contents. There are pictures of the burnt alley. The brick walls are blackened, cars blown to bits, ashes and remains everywhere. On one of the pictures, there are white outlines of where each body was. Four of those outlines stand out to me the most. I remember the exact spots they lay when they died—how they died right in front of my very eyes. Gerrick. Tye. Wes. Even Krane, my betrayer. Dead. I avoid showing any emotion, dropping the pictures and staring intently at a trembling Baker. “Your first minute starts now.” Her eyes pop open, bloodstained, and full of horror. “He came to me,” she whispers. “He came to me personally and told me that he needed me for something. I owed him for getting me my job, so I accepted.” Her throat works hard to swallow. “He wanted me to run into you, talk you into letting me become your lawyer. That’s what I did. You remember.” Yeah I fucking remember, but I don’t say anything. I fold my arms, and she continues. “At first, I thought it was stupid. Why did he want me to get close to you? Why would he want me to find things out about you that no one else did? I didn’t get it. And the more I got to know you, I knew I couldn’t be his spy. I… loved you Ace. I cared about you, so I purposely told people the things you were involved in so you would find out and hate me. Drop me. I knew you might have even killed me, but I risked that for you. When you finally broke it off with me, I was set free. I knew if I would’ve broken it off, he would’ve been pissed, and he would’ve taken everything away from me. My job. My life. Everything.” She hiccups, sobbing hard, bubbling over. “I wanted to warn you about him. I wanted to tell

so you could watch your back, but I knew if I did, he would’ve found out and killed me. I was the only one that knew he wanted to kill Crow at that time. So many years ago.” She shakes her head, as if wishing she could go back to the time before. I watch her, and with a furious adrenaline rush, I step forward, place the pliers around her pointing finger, and squeeze the handle until that precious little finger falls right off. She hollers out in pain, body rocking back and forth but unable to go anywhere as blood spills on the glossy tabletop. “That love shit you’re trying to pull isn’t going to work on me. Get to the fucking point!” “Please,” she begs, voice hoarse. “Please, Ace. I’m telling you the truth! I swear!” “I know. Continue.” With a voice full of thick tears, she goes on. “He wants what you have. Everything. Call it envy, jealousy—whatever!” She blinks up at me. “Who is he?” Her head turns back and forth, and when she doesn’t respond, I clip another finger off, causing her to scream at the top of her lungs. Trent cups her mouth, gripping it tight. “Answer me, Stella!” Trent uncovers her mouth. “I thought you loved me, too.” Her voice cracks. “I thought what we had was actually real. H-how can you do this to me?” she hiccups, stuttering. “You know I never fucking loved you. Nosey, prying bitch. How could I love that? That didn’t work well with what I had going on.” “But I loved you,” she says, tears gushing. “You didn’t love me,” I spit. “You loved the idea of me. The idea of danger. Someone that you shouldn’t have been with because of your career. You liked the idea of a taboo love.” “No.” She slams her other hand on the table, glaring up at me. I cock a brow, as she shouts, “No!” And then, I don’t fucking believe it, but this bitch laughs. Hysterically. It’s unexpected. I expected her to beg for her life, beg for freedom.

I thought wrong. Trent pulls away completely, watching with me as she holds herself with her free hand, the other still dripping blood, laughing until her face turns a light shade of red. A hard laugh considering she’s a light-skinned African-American woman. “You aren’t going to kill me,” she says. “Look at you.” Her eyes roam my body. “You don’t have anything. Nothing! Are you still with that girl? The one who left you behind and started completely over?” My upper lips twitches, pulse accelerating. Laughing dryly, she whispers, “Ace Crow no longer runs this city. Whether you’re here or not, Crow is dead. The way he wanted it to be.” Pissed, I reach for her throat, squeezing tight. Her eyes widen, face turning red beneath her tan skin. “Who. Is. He?” I seethe. She tries to laugh again. “I’d rather be dead than see an amateur like you run this city again,” she spits. Fury overcomes me. I go blind with rage. All I see is red. A sea of red. Everywhere. No bitch is going to laugh in my face and get away with it. Growling, I pick up my knife, step behind her, crane her head back, and slit her throat, all in less than three seconds. Way too fast to even seem real. Blood spills down her chest, and her body goes limp, crumpling back as I snatch away, panting, seething. Her blood pools to the floor, and I stare down at the mess I’ve just created. A beautiful mess. A red waterfall. It’s been a while since I’ve killed someone. Adjusting my tie, I look up at Trent who is completely unbothered by what happened. “Look through her phone. See if there’s anyone familiar she may be talking to. Anyone we may know.” “You think it’s someone we know?” he asks, pulling the phone out of his pocket. “Has to be. She says he’s wanted me gone for years.” Trent nods, and I walk around the table, pulling

out one of the chairs and staring ahead at Baker ’s dead body. The blood drips from her neck, staining her white blouse. I don’t blink as I look at her. My mind feels clear, but I can’t think straight. All this time she’s been working against me. For a moment, while I was torturing her, I thought she was forced into this, but no. She was in, and she was in deep. How long had she been planning to take me down? Who the fuck is she working with? My temper got the best of me. Maybe I should’ve waited for her to tell me who “he” was, but fuck it. She’s dead just like whoever “he” is will be once I find out. Several minutes pass before Trent speaks up. “Busy phone. Too much shit. I noticed she doesn’t call anyone twice in the same day, though. Most people call her. But there’s one number in here that she called eight times last night. No name to it. She also has an anonymous email from someone who sent her this same number a few days ago via email. Email says, ‘Call only when I text you.’ She got out of hand. Why would she call so many times?” I stand, taking the phone away from him. I press the “Call” button, place the phone to my ear, and as it rings, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. It rings five times before there’s a response. “Stella?” he answers. I don’t speak. That voice. Familiar. Too fucking familiar. “Stella, baby. I’m busy right now. I told you I would call when I have this settled. What is it?” My entire body becomes alert when I realize exactly who this person is. Lowering the phone, I end the call, way too quiet for my own good. “Who was it?” Trent asks, stepping towards me. How do I respond? I mean, I know how to respond, but how do I react? This person… I trusted him. Trusted him like a fucking brother! “Boss?” Finally, I blink, realizing I fell right into his trap. He knew I would come back eventually, that I would

want to figure something out. London was right. This was a trap. He’s most likely halfway across his globe by now. He doesn’t do his own dirty work. He knew I’d come, and there’s probably someone watching me right now, waiting for the right moment to attack and kill me. When I look at Trent, his eyes are wide, face inquisitive. “You know who it is?” “Yeah,” I breathe, tucking the phone in my back pocket. I pick up my knife and the pliers, toss them in my bag, and march for the front door. When we make it back down to the car, I snatch off my gloves and crush my fists into the dashboard, conjuring roars, bruising my hands, and shouting harsh obscenities. “YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Trent’s door slams behind him, focusing on me. “Boss,” he calls, “…who was it? Don’t keep me in the dark here.” I look towards him, breathing hard and fast. I’m fucking furious. I can’t believe the name I’m about to say. “Maurice,” I rasp, dropping my head in defeat. “Maurice fucking Grimes.”





Bad Religion – Frank Ocean Why am I here? Why am I not on my way to Belgium, ready to hunt him down? I’m here. My hometown. My city. The memories of Pearl River, New York invade me. It hasn’t changed a bit—old wooden houses, streets full of potholes, and flipped over trashcans. From across the desolate street, I stare ahead at the holy temple. Built brick on top of careful brick, a large brown cross outlined with silver and stained cathedral glass reflects onto me. Apart from being in a neighborhood that is considered the slums, this church is a powerful place. It embraces elegance. Memories. Serenity. Peace. Things I used to long for but can no longer obtain. I swallow hard, giving it one final stare down before making my way across the street. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Going into such a godly place with all I’ve done wrong. I know the error of my ways. I’m a bad person, plain and simple. Although my Lord is a powerful and forgiving God, I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I don’t deserve his mercy. I

should’ve died in that alley. I shouldn’t even be walking up these steps, making my way into a temple of such majesty. I pause, clutching the door handle. I have so many questions. I have so much on my mind that I can’t even think straight. This has never happened to me before. Having a woman I love and knowing a man I cared about betrayed me many years ago and is still trying to take me down. No one is following us which means he has no clue I’m here or he has other plans for me. My fingers go numb, but I pull open the door. I take a few steps inside, familiar with the scent of rich lavender oils and calming incenses. The door shuts behind me, but I don’t move. I’m too afraid to face the man on the cross. The man who died for my numerous sins. I don’t deserve to be in his presence. His cross looms above the altar, watching me. I remain bold, fulfilling the internal yearning to clear my head. I walk forward as quietly as possible. The church is empty. A few fresh candles are lit up front, meaning someone was here not too long ago. I take a seat that’s not too far or too close to the altar. I haven’t had much time to think with all that’s going on. With London, my son, her difficult decision with leaving Greg, and Maurice… it’s all so confusing. But what fucks with my emotions the most is the friend that has betrayed me. I trusted him more than I ever trusted anyone in the business. I grew up with him, watched as he handled transactions with his own father. When I was in middle school, I would go to his house, and we’d play video games all day. We were tight. Close. And then, there’s London. She has to make a decision. He may be a good guy, but I am her guy. I’m the one she fell for first. I’m the one she promised to wait for. She wants me. She’s just too sensitive and too afraid to lose someone that’s entered her life. She’s lost so many, and I should understand why the situation is hard for her, but I

don’t. When it comes to what I want—what I need— I’m not sympathetic. I will get rid of anyone in my way, and she knows that. Hopefully, the act we committed the night I left gets her to finally go through with it. Until then, I know she’ll be safe around Greg. He won’t let anything happen to her. I bring my hand up, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’m overwhelmed. Placing my elbows on my knees, I lean forward and lock my fingers. For the first time in my life, I’m stuck. I’ve never been stuck. I always make a way. Always. “Donovan Crow.” A voice rises from beside me. I sit up, but I don’t look because I know exactly who it is. I smile. “Pastor Wyatt,” I murmur. I finally look his way. His eyes are wide, his face contorted in total disbelief. “Now, wait a minute…” He walks my way, holding up a patient finger. “I could’ve sworn I read your obituary. My eyes… tell me they aren’t deceiving me.” I chuckle. “They aren’t deceiving you, Pastor. It’s me. I’m here.” He inhales sharply, his blue irises flashing from the candlelight. “I cannot believe it.” “Many couldn’t.” I fold my fingers in my lap. “What did you do, fake your own death?” he questions. “Hmm… something along the lines of that, only I didn’t plan it.” Confusion fills his eyes, but surprisingly, he drops the subject, leaning forward. “Well, what brings you in? You know I haven’t seen you since you were just a boy. Your mother, father, and that crazy little cousin of yours. How is she anyway?” “Bianca’s good. Fashion designer. She goes by Bianca Love now. Crazy, right?” He laughs. “She was always the wild child. I still remember the day she drank all the communion juice. Our guests were not pleased.” I nod, laughing a little. “She claimed she was

extremely parched.” Laughter fills the temple. Pastor swipes his eyes, ridding himself of the joyful tears. “Good times.” He folds his arms. “But you didn’t answer me… about being here. You aren’t the type that just drops by. The last time you were here, you were asking for advice about taking over your father ’s business. That was many, many years ago. You were just a boy. Now look at you. A man with eyes so hard and cold they could cut through diamonds.” I smash my lips together, watching as his face grows serious. “This is a much harder decision than taking over Crow… something I need real wisdom for. “I’m here to listen.” He adjusts himself, giving me his undivided attention. I meet his gaze, uncertain about sharing something like this with him. I know he’s heard some wild stories, but this—this is unacceptable by all means of the Bible and our religion. His eyes soften and small wrinkles form around them. His balding, peppery hair is pushed aside. The comforting smile he wears makes me want to spill it all, but I know to start light. “You told me not to take over Crow,” I start, lowering my gaze and turning forward. “You told me it would lead me to nothing but a path of evil. I remember everything you said. How I would become bitter. How I would submit to the darkness, let it take over me. You were right. It did.” He nods but doesn’t speak. “Pastor, I’ve done many horrible things in my life,” I whisper. “Unspeakable things.” “God forgives all, Donovan.” “Yes but… I think the sin I’m about to commit will be unforgiveable.” Silence rises. I continue. “I have only have one weakness, and that’s my family and the people I care about. Recently, I found out someone I care about betrayed me. Three years ago, when everyone thought I was dead, he planned it all very well and covered his tracks in the process. He’s

wanted to take me down for years, and I was foolish enough not to think so. In my business, everyone outside of it is an enemy no matter how close. “But the crazy thing is, I’ve known him for years. He’s like a brother to me. I care about him. I have love for him. But he did me dirty. He stabbed me in the back. He did something that I never would’ve thought about doing to him, no matter the circumstances.” I look up, meeting the pastor ’s eyes. His face is still the same—even, unreadable, but genuinely understanding. “I’m here because I don’t know what to do. I have no guidance here. I can’t hurt the people I care about. I may say it, but I can’t. I’ve had many opportunities to hurt people I care about in the past, but I never saw them through. That is my only weakness because, once I let someone in, there is no going back for them. They’re in my heart for life, and he knows this. And I feel like he knew once I returned, I would find out it was him. He’s prepared. He has some kind of plan.” “What are your plans for him?” he asks. I keep my lips sealed for a brief moment. “I don’t think you wanna know the answer to that question.” “Okay… let’s take another route. What will you accomplish by committing your sin?” “I hope to feel peace. He’s the only thing holding me back from a carefree life. I can’t have the weight of his betrayal on my shoulders because the longer I hold my anger in, the more I will lose the peace I already have.” “Hmm.” He turns forward, staring ahead at the burning candles. “Donovan, there are things that we have no control of. You are here for a reason. You were guided here. You were seeking an answer to a question you had no response for. You were at a dead end, but this place is an open door. It’s a gateway. Why do you think you’re here?” He looked at me, matching my gaze. “Not sure. I’ve been wondering why myself. Probably because it was only an hour away. Wanted to see it again.”

He smiles wholeheartedly. “It is because of the guilt you feel, son. You think you’re here for advice on your friend, but it has nothing to do with that. You’re here because of how much you’ve done wrong, and now that you’re at a dead end, you’re remembering that you didn’t have to accept this life. I will be blunt about this. You were wrong. You knew better, yet you took the terrible opportunity of running your father ’s bloody business, and now you’re paying the price for it.” Silence consumes me, and I lower my head in what I know is shame. “There is a woman?” he asks. I whip my head up, narrowing my eyes. I don’t say anything though. “Ahh, yes. There is a woman. A woman you love. That is why you’re seeking peace. For her. For a better future.” “Perhaps.” He laughs, sitting back and placing his arm on top of the wooden bench. “I will tell you what I’m being told from Him.” He sighs, placing one leg on top of the other. “I am being told that what you went through was fate. People thinking you were long gone. Your friend betraying you… all fate.” My eyebrows stitch, confusion masking my face. “Fate?” “Yes, fate. You were knocked down because He had to knock you down. He had to bring you to your knees. He had to make you defenseless again. Open. The only way He could do that was by taking everything you love away from you. By He I mean God. Our God is a very smart one. He knows what he’s doing.” He points up with a waving finger, halfsmiling. “You won’t gain peace from committing a sin, and you really won’t gain it by holding onto unnecessary anger. Jesus was betrayed by Judah, yet he forgave him. He became stronger. He moved forward. “You do what you have to do, Donovan, but remember… peace is what you make it. Peace means

bliss, no hauntings of your sins. Peace means happiness. For once in your life, for that woman you love so dearly, do the right thing. Follow your heart, not your mind. The heart remains true and loyal, but the mind can be unreliable. Your mind will trick you into thinking you’re doing the right thing, but all it’s doing is deceiving you.” He forms a smile. I lower my head, absorbing the wisdom. He then caps my shoulder and stands. I pick my head up again. “You know I’m right, son. Move forward. Not backwards. Run away with that woman and never look back. Accept the good in life. Get away from all the evil while you can. That is all I can tell you.” He smiles. “I must get going now. It was great seeing you, Donovan. Be careful.” He squeezes my shoulder, and with that, he walks away, leaving me with an even more confused mind and an extremely heavy heart.





Come Away To The Water – Maroon 5 I call Bianca repeatedly. No answer. Either she’s busy, still mad at me and doesn’t want to talk, or she’s in Maurice’s clutches, and he’s filling her head with lies. He’s probably the reason she no longer wants anything to do with me. He knows I’m onto him. He’s planning his escape, and he wants her right by his side. Motherfucker. All this fucking time I was telling him what happened to me, how it was a nightmare to go through, and how I would take down the fucker that did it and it’s been him all along. His business, it’s still alive and thriving more than ever. His boats are still at the docks. Men are still watching his area. His men. They never went anywhere. Since my disappearance, he’s prospered. He’s the one that wanted everything I worked so hard for. He’s the one that wanted to take me down. What’s with the men of my past? Why do they want to see me suffer? Why do they want to tear me down when all I ever was to them was loyal and respectful? I trusted him. I helped him come up. He was close, too close, and I was foolishly blinded by his smile and the way he pretended to care about what happened to me. Those were his orders. Being beaten by Nixon but

still kept alive—that was his call. I told him about Nixon once. I told him he and my father were on bad terms and he’d been threatening us. I told Maurice so fucking much. Things I hardly ever shared with anyone else. I guess the saying is wise when they say keep your friends close but you enemies closer. I walk through the airport, dialing London’s number. Nothing. I call five more times. No answer. “Shit,” I hiss, calling one last time and getting her voicemail. I’m heated. I’ve been betrayed, yes, but nothing feels worse than this. This man, he dates my cousin, yet he sneaks behind her back and fucks around with Baker? This man we grew up with, that grew up with my child? Made London and my son trust him? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Vibrating with rage, I snatch out Baker ’s cell phone and dial his number again. This time, he doesn’t answer by saying her name. He says mine. “Ace.” He’s gloating. I can feel his Cheshire cat sneer through the phone. “Where the fuck are you, Maurice?” “Oh, just hanging out with the family here in Creole. You know, cherishing time.” My heart stills, face going blank. He has them? So he didn’t run away. I knew he was low to want to take me down, but I didn’t think he would go as low as taking my family and threatening them. Using them as bait. Then again, it makes sense. I would do the same thing, and I fucking hate myself for thinking that way. “Let them go.” My voice is dark, full of anger. “Can’t do that.” “What the fuck do you want from me?!” My abrupt tone catches the attention of a few by passers. “You know exactly what I want! I want you gone! I want my fucking money! I want everything you controlled! Didn’t Nixon beat the shit out of you for it, asking you everyday?” “Fuck you,” I spit. “He’s dead, just like you will be

once I get back.” He chuckles, still gloating. “Oh, hold on. Someone wants to say hello.” The line swooshes and rustles, clear that he’s moving around. “Hello?” Aden answers. My heart, the one that stilled just moments ago, drops. “Aden,” I breathe. “Who is this?” he asks. “It’s Ace, kid. Ace. Remember me?” “Ohhh yeah!” “Are you okay?” He doesn’t respond. “Aden, are you okay?” I ask again, eyes burning. “Mommy was cwying,” he murmurs. “She got hurt.” Hurt? “Aden, tell your mom I’m coming for her. Tell her everything will be okay. For both of you. Do you understand me?” I cling to the phone, awaiting a response, but I don’t get one. Instead, I’m greeted with Maurice’s voice again. “She won’t be okay if you don’t follow my rules. This is what’s going to happen. You’ll come to London’s house in Creole with all your money, a list of the connections for the trades, and their code words, and you won’t come armed. If you do come with anything, and I mean anything, I will kill them one by one. Starting with your precious Bianca.” Bianca?! Fuck! He has her too? “Greg… well, I’ll let him handle London and Aden.” Are you fucking kidding me? I knew that motherfucker couldn’t be trusted! Clenching my fist, I lean against the wall, jaw locked, way too much anger built up inside me. I’m at my boiling point, but what really gets me is that I’m not there. That I’m halfway across the country. He acted as soon as I left. He was waiting for the opportunity to arrive. With a singsong voice, one that really pisses me the fuck off, Maurice says, “You have until four PM tomorrow. See you soon, Crow.” And then he hangs up.

I drop the phone, slow and weary, tears burning my eyes, nostrils flaring to avoid them. I shut them, fighting the unwanted tears off. My family is in danger—in danger because of me. Because I was stupid enough to run off the first chance I got to settle loose ends. My worst nightmare. Somehow, he knew I’d find out about Baker and that I’d go hunting her down. She was bait as well. She thought he was helping her when, in reality, he was only using her. Selfish bastard. When I open my eyes, Trent is coming my way, his fingers tucked in his front pockets. “Where do we go from here, Boss?” I study him, my best driver. A loyal man. He doesn’t deserve to get mixed up in my shit, and if anything happens to him, his family damn sure doesn’t deserve to be without a husband and a father. “I’m letting you go, Trent. Go back to your family. Back to your life. This is between me and him.” His eyes narrow, eyebrows stitched. “Ace, you know that’s out of the fucking question. This job isn’t finished.” Stepping forward, I cap his shoulders before pulling him in for a brotherly hug. When I pull away, I tell him, “It’s over. Live your life, Trent. Be carefree. Enjoy that shit, man. Don’t end up like me… having to pay the price for your wrongdoings.” Trent’s eyes glisten, but he blinks and steps away, bringing his sunglasses up to cover his eyes. Nostrils flared, he says, “I’ve always had the highest respect for you, Crow. I’ve never worked for a man with priorities as high as yours, and I’ve never had a boss that treated me like a brother… like I belonged. You may not feel this way, but I feel like I owe you my life. You picked me up off the streets and took me in. You gave me money to start a life—to build it. You’ve done so fucking much for me.” His head drops. “I’m not letting you go back without me.” He tilts his chin. “You had my back, and now I have yours. It’s not over until it’s over.”

I look away, unsure of what to say to him. He remains in place, snatching off his sunglasses. I see the sincerity in his eyes. The loyalty. The need to destroy the man that destroyed us and his former family. Our men. “I can’t have anymore innocent blood on my hands. I have to give him what he wants. That’s my family he has. The whole game has changed, Trent. They’re not safe. I’m done playing games.” Trent scoffs. “Games? This isn’t a fucking game! Like I told you, he fucked with the wrong person, and we’re gonna show him just how much he really fucked up! The Ace Crow I know wouldn’t be giving up and giving in,” he says, straightening his back. “The real Ace Crow would be ready to go through anything to get back what he deserves. Through hell and high water. He’s the one that should be afraid.” Trent’s face is hard, his body upright and steady. He’s ready. But am I? What if something goes wrong? I know myself. I’m stubborn. When it comes down to the wire, I make dumb decisions. If one of them dies because of me, I don’t know what the fuck I will do. But he’s right. I know he’s right. My wrath is much stronger. I’ve been through it all, and this shit won’t stop me. Fuck Maurice. Fuck his crew. Fuck it all. I’m going back for mine. I wonder if Pastor Wyatt would tell me to follow my heart if he knew Maurice, a threat, has my family and is holding them hostage? He wouldn’t condone me going to kill him, but he would understand me if I did. He was right about me paying the price for taking over Crow. With a business as such, there’s always a price. Always something that goes wrong. It’s why I went into it without feelings, without wanting to care for anyone, especially a woman. But all of that changed when I met London. She created a new man in me, and I never thought it was possible. Inside, I’m suffering. Dying. I won’t be revived until they’re all safe in my

arms. And trust me, they will be back in my fucking arms. Alive and safe. “Alright.” I nod. Trent sighs with relief, pleased with my response. I push off the wall, making my way towards the door that leads to my old jet. “Lets get back to Creole.” I won’t let this one slip away from me, but I need to be smart. I need to stay vigilant. Stay wise. I have to gather a plan. He’ll expect me to arrive hours before four, and he’ll most likely take me down on sight, but I can’t let him read me. I refuse to let him win. Not today. Not ever. My life is just getting back on track. He will not steal the only happiness I have left.





My Blood- Ellie Goulding My head rolls to the side, and I jolt, sitting up straight, breathing unevenly. I stare around the dark room, eyes wide and frantic. I can’t make out much. The room is large with one window on the east wall and a ceiling light by the door. I start to go for it, but my body is yanked back, and I tumble to the floor. Pain seizes my wrists, and I hiss, staring down at the silver metal around it. Handcuffs. Most likely the same cuffs I used on Greg. I lick my dry lips, tasting a trace of blood. My tongue runs across a small, painful cut. Was I hit? I don’t remember. When I think of Greg, I remember all that happened. Them stopping my car, trapping me in my own neighborhood. Taking my son away. Something sharp stabbing me in the neck. Most likely a needle. Tears threaten to spill when I recall how frightened Aden was. I don’t know where he is or what the hell they did with him. I pull my arm, hoping to break the railing, but I know it won’t work. It’s cemented into the wall. I’m not strong enough. Bringing my free hand up, I swipe the tears away and stand, sweeping my surroundings. There’s nothing I can use. The room is completely empty. The

window allows some of the rising sun to shine in, but not enough. Rustling sounds in the dark corner across from me. I step back. Has someone been watching me this whole time? The person groans, and I realize it’s light. Girly. “Bianca?” I call in a whisper. She groans again and then a hand falls into the light, a trace of blood on her fingertips. “Shit! Bianca!?” “London?” she croaks. “Yeah.” I nod as if she can see me. I can’t see her. It’s too dark in her corner. Pulling her hand out of the light, she murmurs, “I tried to get him to stop.” “It’s okay,” I tell her. “No.” Her voice cracks and something rattles on her side. A chain most likely. “It’s not. I trusted him. He lied to me. All these years, London, he lied to me. I thought he loved me. Like, really loved me.” I blink in her direction. “Let’s not talk about that right now, okay? Are you alright?” “Yeah,” she whispers. “Just a little cut on my arm. Put up one hell of a fight.” I can tell she wants to laugh, but with the ache I’m certain she feels in her core, it isn’t going to come out. Not anytime soon. “Is this why you wanted to leave us behind? Because of him?” Silence fills the dark room for several seconds. Then, she responds with, “Yes.” Oh. “He was telling me all these bad things about Ace, and deep down, I didn’t want to believe them, but they sounded so true. Like things the old Ace would do.” “Things like what?” I ask. “Like how he killed someone before he arrived. How he was the one that faked his own death and how he’s only here now because he rebuilt Crow and wants to take you and Aden back to New York with him. Start fresh. He said Ace no longer trusted his men after he found out about Krane, so he was glad they died during the process. A bunch of wild shit. I mean, it sounded like something Ace would do, but

then again—” “You believed that?” I hiss, my eyebrows furrowing. “No I didn’t believe his shit! I knew from the moment he started telling me things about Ace that he was lying. He started acting strange when Ace returned. He had some kind of guard up. He wouldn’t talk to me like he used to, and now I see why.” Her voice breaks. “I feel like he used me.” “He used all of us, Bianca. He used my son. He used Ace! You thought Ace was the monster,” I scoff, “No. Maurice is the fucking monster.” “I know.” She sniffles. I wish I could hug her. She’s in pain. A lot of it. You spend three years with someone and they stab you right in the back—or as I recall, the neck. “I think he was onto me not believing him, so he told me he would get rid of Ace if I didn’t leave with him. He wanted to go to Belgium early. I think he was trying to escape before Ace figured things out. I mean, we all know Ace is going to find out eventually. He didn’t want me to be around him, and every time I asked why, he would never answer me. We got into this heated argument at our hotel when he let Greg take Aden without my permission while I was in the shower. Before that, he’d been acting strange, making calls on his phone, and walking out of the room to take them. “So when he came back, I had my duffle bag in hand. That’s when we argued. I told him I couldn’t be around him anymore. He wouldn’t let me go, so I shoved him and ran for the door, but he caught me. I fought back, and the next thing I know, I’m out cold and I wake up here. The night I argued with Ace, that’s when Maurice told me he would kill him for making me ‘unhappy’. He said it right into my ear as he pretended to comfort me on the balcony. I was shocked. I knew he didn’t want to kill Ace for my sake, but for his. And I think he knew I’d figured him out and saw right through him when I tried to leave. He claimed he was keeping me safe—protecting me —but I didn’t need protection from Ace. I know him

more than he knows himself. I can’t believe I was foolish enough to believe the shit Maurice was spewing out of his mouth. I should’ve known better. This is my fault.” “No,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Bianca, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want to say it, but I don’t think he’s doing this because he wants to be with you. He told you the part about Ace being taken and beaten by some ex-cop?” “Yes,” she whispers. “That was Maurice. He was in charge of that.” “Yeah, I figured.” More sniffling along with a feeble moan. “Oh, God. I can’t believe this!” “Bianca, we can’t be weak right now. We have to get out of here. He has Aden. Greg has been working with him. All of this was set up by Maurice. My whole relationship with Greg was staged. Did you know that?” “No! Oh my fucking goodness. That stupid son of a bitch! And to think I actually backed Greg up!” Her chain rattles and half of her face is revealed from the single light above. When I see her face, mascara running down her cheeks, I know she’s damaged. But like me, she’s keeping her head held high. She’s ready to fight— fight for what we deserve. Freedom. A better life. I can’t believe our luck. This was never over. For a while, I thought we were free, but we weren’t. All this time we were in Maurice’s grasp, ready to be taken away as soon as his developing plan was ready to hatch. “We have to get the fuck out of here,” Bianca hisses, looking towards the window. I look with her. The sun is higher in the sky. Dawn. “We will.” She peers down at the shackles around her wrist. “I don’t even know where we are.” “We still have to be in Cali. Maurice wants something, and it’s obviously not from us, but Ace.

The only place Ace will come back to is here if he figures out that Maurice is behind this.” “Where is he?” she whispers “… He went back to New York. He had a lead with Stella Baker.” “Fuck,” she curses beneath her breath. “It could take hours—maybe even days before he actually figures this out.” “That’s why we have to get out of here and find a way to contact him.” “I don’t know London…” Her voice is perplexed. “This is risky. He has Aden. What if he does something to him?” “Nothing will happen to my son.” Anger splurges, lighting me on fire. “Nothing.” Her eyes expand, staring across the room. I match my stare with hers, and when she finally looks away, I sigh, stepping back and lowering to the ground. I wrap my arms around my legs, looking towards the scratched brown door to my left. We sit in silence for at least ten minutes. She’s most likely thinking of a way to get out of here, just like me. With these cuffs, I’m not sure what all I’ll be able to accomplish, but something must be done. If I have to cut my arm off to get my son, I will. No obstacle is impossible to overcome when the life of my child is in danger. Several minutes later, footsteps sound outside the door. I whip my head up, pointing my line of sight towards it. It swings open, hitting the wall with a thud, and light swims in—a bold, bright light, and silhouetted in the middle is a tall, familiar frame. My lip twitches as he walks in, his heavy boots crunching on the cement floor. He flips a switch, and a light from above illuminates the entire room. I shield my eyes as I look up, right into Greg’s cold blue eyes. “Morning ladies,” he chimes. We don’t speak. Just stare at him with hatred. “Well, good news is Crow will be here before we know it. We filled him in on everything. Just waiting

on him to arrive.” His tone pisses me the fuck off. It’s the same cheery tone he used when he used to come downstairs for breakfast or home from work with what I thought was a warm, sincere greeting. “Ah, London.” He walks in my direction, squatting in front of me. “You look awful, babe.” The back of his hand runs down my cheek, slow and rough. I jerk my face away, glowering. “What is wrong with you?” I whisper, voice dark. “Me?” His eyebrows elevate. “What’s wrong with me?” he laughs. “I don’t think I was the one sneaking around behind your back, sleeping with someone else, and lying straight to your face about it.” The sneer on his lips disappears as he looks me straight in the eyes. “And to think,” he sighs. “…I was just starting to like you. We could’ve made something work.” “You don’t have to work for him, you know.” Bianca’s voice interrupts our stare down. I look towards her as Greg does. “Ace has way more money than Maurice. He’s a lot stronger, and I thought Maurice was much wiser, but I was wrong because he’s actually going through with this stupid plan. The moment he thought about taking Ace down, he fucked up. Ace can’t be defeated. He couldn’t take him down before, and he won’t take him down this time. He won’t go down without a fight. He was already angry about what happened to him, but now that Maurice is messing with his family—his loved ones—he’s just adding fuel to a fire that’s already burning. He’ll make sure Maurice and everything he owns burns right to the ground.” Greg’s face is blank for a mere moment. For a second, I think he’s considering it. I’m wrong. Standing up straight, he walks to the middle of the room, glaring down at Bianca. “Is that what you think?” She narrows her eyes. “It’s what I know.” He laughs, tossing his head back. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Ace has nothing, and he has no one. He’s alone. He has no team. You really think he

can take every single one of us down?” He holds a hand up, pointing at the window. “There are at least eight men here, ready to extinguish that so-called ‘fire’.” “Don’t underestimate him,” I snap at his back. He peers over his shoulder, one eyebrow inclined. “He came back. He didn’t give up, and he damn sure didn’t die. That alone should terrify you. Maurice should’ve just killed him when he had the chance.” “But see”—he shakes his head, waving a finger —“that’s the thing. I’m not afraid of him. We have an army. He has himself. He won’t win again. Nah…” He smirks demonically. “Not this time.” My eyes thin. “What the hell are you getting out of this anyway, Greg?” He steps toward the door, that same smirk on his lips. “Everything.” “Like what?” Bianca demands. He looks around the room, blowing out an unnecessary breath. “More than enough money so I never have to work in an office again. Freedom. Power. See, Maurice and I made a deal. I had word that the remains the police found at the crime scene weren’t Ace’s. Very confidential case. It was hard to actually get inside and see what was in the case file, but I have my connections. They believe he’s still out there, but no one’s looking for him. They think he’s long gone, out of the country, but if someone catches him, dead or alive, that person gets paid more money than they know what to do with. The bounty hunters gave up looking years ago. Police called it off. “When you planned on moving here, Maurice knew you’d be too far and he wouldn’t have eyes on you. Maurice heard I was still doing some research on the case—I mean we all know how boring it gets in Creole—so while I was in New York for an officer ceremony, he found me and that night, we decided to team up. He told me to get close to you just in case anything went wrong with his plan. Maurice gets what he wants from Ace and I get what I want… having the title as the infamous Greg Price, a great captain

known for taking Ace Crow down for good. His body will be proof. They will praise me for the rest of my life.” He grins wickedly. “So, like I said—” he breathes, as if he’s just finished a race—“I will have everything I need.” “He’ll just kill you in the end,” Bianca mutters. “Maurice is greedy. He’ll turn the body in himself, take the money, and run. “That won’t happen. I’ll kill him before he ever lays a finger on me. I’ve got myself covered.” Smirking, he walks toward the door, but I shout his name, standing. He stops and turns slowly, icy gaze flashing from the light. “Is Aden okay?” Nostrils flaring, he snatches his eyes away, looking forward. “He’s fine.” He steps out, but before the door shuts, he says, “I may seem selfish in this moment, but that’s a child, and I would never let anything happen to him. Unlike Crow and the men that surround him, I still have a soul. Fortunately, he doesn’t know what’s going on and he doesn’t deserve to be threatened or harmed. Once mommy and daddy and auntie are gone, who knows”—he presses his lips —“maybe I’ll take over. Raise him as my own. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t deserve to be killed because his mother chose the wrong man.” Although he bashes me right in my face, hearing that Aden is okay relieves a small part of me. He won’t let anything happen to Aden. That’s good. Even if something does happen to me, he’ll be safe in the end. Though I refuse to put my guard down, in Greg’s eyes, I can tell he means what he’s saying. He cares for Aden, maybe not as much as he does for me, but he’s always had a good connection with him. It never seemed faked or forced. It seemed real. Genuine. Was it his idea to keep Aden out of this room? Somewhere that, I hope, is more comfortable? Unfortunately, I’m not given the chance to ask because the door slams shut, and he walks away. That was a soft spot for Greg. He reacted way differently than I thought he would.

“He’s pretending to be cold and heartless, but I can tell he still cares,” I exhale. “I think, deep down, I hurt him, that he really did love me. Maybe he thought Ace would never come back, that he was in the clear to keep me for life. You saw how he reacted at the mention of Aden. Aden’s safe somewhere, and Ace is on his way. All I have to do is put a little pressure on him, make him see that this is wrong. Greg is a good guy and, like he said, he still has a soul. He can’t be all dirty.” “You think so?” she asks. Her voice sounds hopeless. I nod. “Maybe. But it doesn’t mean he’ll let us go.” She crosses her legs Indian style and sighs, almost defeated. “Unless Ace finds us, we’re our only hope.” Tucking her matted, trimmed hair behind her ear, she looks up at the ceiling, and her upper lip twinges. “Well, at least he left the light on.” I shake my head. The last thing on my mind is laughter, but I laugh anyway. If there’s someone to be trapped with, it’s her. She knows me just as well as I know her. We’re like sisters, maybe not by blood but by heart and spirit. We’re getting out of here. Whether she feels the hope I have or not, I know we’re getting out. If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead already. We survive. We live. But instead of only fighting for what we believe in, we fight until our last breath is stolen. We fight because we’re strong and because we always find a way to make it.





Heavy In Your Arms – Florence + The Machine It was the longest flight of my fucking life. Every minute I worried something was going wrong, that maybe one of them was already dead or all of them and Maurice was just pretending to keep them alive. I don’t negotiate. That’s a hell-fucking-no. At the end of all of this, I will have everything including my family. He will have nothing, not even his own life. While on the flight, I realized I couldn’t be calm about this shit. He’s fucking with my life. Fucking with my family. Fucking with my sanity. He’s fucked with the wrong one. As soon as the jet lands, Trent and I hop into his Bugatti and drive to the nearest gun dealer. Don’t come armed, my ass. Trent pulls up in the alley, and I glance over my shoulder as he climbs out of the car, peering over his before placing his sunglasses on. “All set?” “All set. The place was completely empty.” “Good.” After buying three thousand dollars worth of firearms, I pay our dealer and we’re on our way to Creole. “How many men do you think will be there?”

Trent asks as he puts the car in drive and pulls off. I load my gun, cocking the barrel. “Most of his men are in New York. I’d say six to eight are here.” “Only two of us. You realize that, right?” “Yep.” “Are you going to give him what he wants?” I crush my lips together, giving Trent a hard, stale face. “Is that even a question that should be asked?” He lifts his hand in the air rapidly before grasping the wheel again. “Hey, things change. First you said you would, but now you’re loading guns, getting ready for a showdown.” “Nah.” I load another one. “That motherfucker won’t get anything but his heart ripped out.” I look out the passenger window, feeling all of the rage consume me again. I still can’t wrap my head around it being Maurice. Can’t trust anyone. “It’s three-fifty.” Trent informs me of the time. He parks the car across the street from an abandoned house. I watch the windows, eyes narrowed. “I know.” “Why would they be here?” I look down at the tracker in my lap. I bought it as soon as I was free of Nixon’s hell cell, and while I was on the phone with Maurice—as he taunted me and carried on and on like I knew he would—I marked this as his current location. An abandoned home only six miles away from London’s home makes sense. I don’t feel the need to answer Trent right away because my answer comes walking right out the front door. On his cellphone is Greg. The sight of him makes me snarl. My upper lip peels back, fists clenched. “Fucking bitch,” Trent mutters. Greg hops into his truck and pulls off immediately, most likely on his way to London’s place, expecting me. If he’s here, then that must mean they’re here as well. Whipping my gun out, I tell Trent to come on and rush across the street, gun hot

and ready. They wouldn’t leave them here alone. Someone’s around, most likely one person. He’ll send as many men as he can to be at the place I’m supposed to be. It’s what I’d do. In order to beat the enemy you must think like the enemy. I circle the house, steps slow and cautious. I hear deep laughter coming from the backyard. Pulling my silencer out, I twist it onto my gun, and once Trent’s is on I rush back, spotting a bald, bulky man with tattoos on his forearms and neck on a cell phone. “Oh shit!” Spotting us, he drops the phone with haste and starts to reach for the gun in his holster but it’s too late. I pull the trigger, a bullet penetrating the center of his skull. His heavy body collapses, and I walk towards him, staring down at the blood pooling around him. Trent bends down to pick up the keys in his hand. “These aren’t car or house keys. Might be useful.” He stands up straight, clutching them in hand. I nod, turning towards the balcony door. It’s open. Anyone could be inside. I tell Trent to cover me as I walk in. He follows closely behind, keeping check of our surroundings. The floor creaks when I step onto the peeling linoleum, and I pause, watching the kitchen intently. Nothing sounds but the dripping faucet. Someone else is here. I can feel it. It’s too fucking quiet. Lifting my gun, I check the entire kitchen, then the living room, and next the vacant bedrooms. All empty. “All clear,” I murmur from inside. Trent walks in right away, gun still held high. Cocking his head to the left, Trent motions to another door. I look from him to the brown door. Stepping past him, my gun pointed at the door, I walk as quietly as I can towards it and when I reach it, I twist the knob slowly. Someone groans, and I place my finger on the trigger, snatching the door open completely and

turning on the light switch. But the face I see causes me to drop my guard immediately and run for them. “Shit! London!” I pull her up in my arms. She groans in response. “I’m here, Red. Never should’ve left.” I examine her frail body, taking inventory of her injuries. Scratches and bruises on her arms, blood under her nails. She put up a fight. Greg knocked her unconscious. There’s a red blotch on the side of her head. Fuck. At least she’s still alive. “Boss,” Trent calls from the corner. I look towards him, and in his arms is Bianca. Eyes wide, I place London down gently and rush for Bianca. Placing two fingers to her neck, I check her pulse. “Fuck, I don’t feel shit.” Trent’s ear hovers over her mouth and nose. “She’s barely breathing.” “What the fuck did he do to them?” Anger— fury—returns with a vengeance all over again. I can’t let it fuck with my head. I have to keep it on straight. I have to think clearly. “Take her to the hospital and take London with you.” He narrows his brows. “Boss—” “Now, Trent.” “Maurice… you can’t take him and those men by yourself.” “I’ll try. Aden isn’t here, which means he still has him, and if anything, and I mean any fucking thing, happens to my son, I will raise hell.” Trent shakes his head. “They’re going to try and massacre you, Ace. You know that, whether they get what they want or not.” “A risk, Trent. A risk I’m willing to take for my flesh and blood.” I point down at Bianca and take a quick glance back at London before returning it to him. “Look what the fuck he did to them. I refuse to drop everything right now. I know where he is, and I’m gonna fucking handle it.” I step towards London, unlocking the cuffs and picking her up in my arms. “It’s what they’d want. They wouldn’t want me waiting around for them to recover. They’d want me fighting to end it all.” I look up. “Doing this.” Then, I

turn for the door and walk out. When I make it to the car, I buckle London in, Trent following my lead with Bianca in his arms. Shutting the door, I head towards the passenger seat and yank out my second gun. Trent walks around the car, gripping my shoulders. “If anything happens and I’m not there I won’t be able to forgive myself.” “You’ll be fine. You’re doing this for me. My family.” Releasing my shoulder, he steps back, taking a look at the house. Nodding, he says, “Should get them to the hospital.” “Should.” He turns, and without a look back, he hops into the driver ’s seat and skids off, hauling ass to the hospital. I know Trent. He’ll drop them off at the emergency room and then come back for me. I won’t let him die because of my mistakes. He made it out alive the first time, and I intend to keep it that way. I watch him drift down the street, but before he can disappear, the car comes to a screeching halt, and the back door swings open. Out climbs London who slams the door behind her and runs in my direction with broad, glistening eyes. Stunned, I start to walk towards her, and when she meets up to me, we clash. Her arms bolt around my neck, holding on unbelievably tight. A hold saying a million words. My heart catches speeds when she lands in my arms, when I realize she’s safe… that they’re safe. But there’s still one more we need to save. Our son. “Ace! Oh my God,” she breathes. Relief. “Red,” I breathe. “You gotta get the hell out of here, babe.” She pulls back, shaking her head, hazel eyes full of anger. “No, Ace. No! Fuck that! He has Aden!” “I know, and I’m going to take care of it, London.” “I’m not letting you go alone. Are you fucking insane?! Do you remember what happened the last time?”

I grip her shoulders, jaw locked. “I’m not letting you come with me, London. It’s not safe.” I look over her shoulder, spotting Trent standing outside his car, confused. “Go back with Trent. You’ll be safe with him.” Narrowing her eyes up at me, she turns around and yells, “Get Bianca to the hospital, Trent! Go! Now!” Trent remains in place, but when I realize London isn’t going to budge on this one, even if I tell her to take Trent’s place and get Bianca there immediately, I nod at him. He hops in his car and drives away. After taking a look around the deserted neighborhood, she faces me and asks, “Do you know how to hotwire a car?” I look towards the rusted brown Honda coupe parked along the curb of the home across the street, and clutching London’s hand, I march for it. The door is already unlocked. “Keep watch,” I tell her. I kneel down, snatching the cover of the fuse box off and rearranging the wires. Once the car rattles to life, I climb in the seat and London runs around to the passenger side, sliding in and shutting the door behind her. Putting the car in reverse, I ask, “What the hell happened in there?” Eyes wide, her gaze bounces in my direction. I put the car in drive, and she says, “I… tried to manipulate Greg. He didn’t fall for it.” I grimace, and my eye twitches. “Manipulate as in, what? Seducing him?” “I’ve done it before,” she says defensively. “That was fucking before, London. He’s been acting with you.” “And I was acting with him.” Her voice is stern. I grab the wheel tighter, and when she notices the tension, she places a hand on my thigh. “It was the only way I could think of to get us out of there,” she confesses. I grunt, brushing it off. Right now is not the time to argue. I need to focus. I pull onto the main road

and jet down the street, eyes forward. “He knew I was just trying to get out of there.” She holds her breath for a moment, lowering her head. “I… hesitated. He asked me if I really loved him, and I hesitated. If I would’ve just went along with it and said yes, he never would’ve questioned my motives. That’s when he started threatening me, squeezing me and… choking me.” Her head shakes back and forth as she runs her fingertips across her neck. “It’s my fault he hit Bianca. She was shouting at him, telling him to stop hurting me. He went to her and slapped her around, then pistol-whipped her. He did the same to me.” She reaches up, touching the red spot on her head. “I’ll kill him,” I growl through clamped teeth, my grip fastening around the steering wheel. “He said he wouldn’t let anything happen to Aden earlier, but since I tried that, he may not care anymore. He might actually use Aden to get back at me.” She reaches for my free hand, and when I glance over, tears are in her eyes. “Ace we have to get to him. Now.” I can’t tell her that I was supposed to be there nearly fifteen minutes ago. She’ll go crazy—assume Aden’s already been hurt. I keep driving, pulling off of the freeway, taking a sharp right turn, and entering London’s neighborhood. I drive down the road, vigilant, spotting her house ahead. No cars are parked up front. Only one truck in the driveway—Greg’s. He wants me to think they’re the only people around. I pull up in front of the fifth house from hers. Considering how large these homes are and how big the yards are, it’s a good distance away. “I can’t take the beach,” I tell her. “I’m sure they’re watching it.” She nods, unclipping her seatbelt. I stop her, and she jerks her head up, eyes hard. “Ace, what are you doing?” “Stay here.” “No!” “Yes!” My voice thunders, but she doesn’t dare

flinch. “Ace, I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” she says through gritted teeth. I draw in a deep breath, collecting a small ounce of patience. “I have a plan, London, and I need you to sit here and wait. Can you do that for me?” “Maybe before, but that’s my son in there,” she points at the house, infuriated, “I will not just sit here.” I sigh. “Trust me?” She blinks. A question I ask often, yet she always reacts differently to it. Back in New York, she would still be unsure, but how does she feel about hearing it now after three long years? After so much has changed in my life and hers? “Yes,” she whispers. “Then stay here. Don’t come out. You understand?” Tears build up at the rims of her eyes, but with slight reluctance, she nods. “Fine. But if it takes longer than ten minutes I’m coming in, Ace.” I watch her sparkling eyes, knowing she means it. Reaching for my ankle, I pull the gun out of the holster wrapped around it and hand it to her. This time, she grips it in hand, no hesitancy. “Anything happens, use it. Don’t hesitate.” I look her over as she stares down at the gun. “That’s your son in there, right?” Her eyes flicker up. “Yes. Our son.” “Right. Our son. You aren’t a killer, but they’ve fucked with the wrong family. If you have to be murderous in order to hold him in your arms again, so be it. If you need to use every single bullet on every motherfucker that crosses you, don’t regret a fucking thing. You hear me?” Tears stream down her cheeks as I drop my forehead on hers, cupping the back of her neck. Fighting tears, she says, “I will. For Aden. For you.” Her soft, warm lips press on mine, hazel meeting honey-brown. “For us.”







Only When I Walk Away – Justin Timberlake The house next door to hers is up for sale. When I get in, I should be able to see how many men are actually canvasing London’s house and how many I need to take down in order to get to their leader. The betrayer. Maurice. Once I’m out of the car, I go through the yard of the house I parked in front of and quickly make my way to the back. No one’s around. I keep moving. This is a situation I have to take seriously, and I have to move fast. I can’t fuck up. My son is in there somewhere, and if anything happens to him, London will never forgive me. I pass three houses, but when I make it to the fourth, I spot one of the men walking the perimeter of London’s backyard. Ducking aside, I peer over, watching as he walks in the other direction. When he disappears, I walk around the vacant home, sliding the balcony door window open. Shutting it behind me quietly, I tuck my gun in my holster and rush through the kitchen, zooming up the stairs. I make it to the third bedroom—the bedroom with the floor-to-ceiling window that I can see London’s house through perfectly—and shut the door behind me, staring at the .50 cal. rifle. It’s already set up for me. Waiting to be used.

My plan. I have to admit, it’s a master plan. See, while I was handling the guns, I had Trent come to this house and pretend to be a realtor. He came in, brought the gun to the location I told him to, and set it up for me. I’ve been sneaking in and out of this house for days. It’s how I was watching London and Aden through binoculars before all this fucked up shit happened. Call me a stalker. What the fuck do I care? Unbuttoning and snatching my suit jacket off, I toss it aside and bend down, lying flat on stomach. Carefully, my finger goes around the trigger, my eye to the lens, and I scan her home. “Fuck,” I breathe. Men. Men everywhere. At least that motherfucker isn’t taking me lightly. I pull away from the rifle and dig the extra suppressor out of my pocket. After screwing it on, I focus on the three men on the right side of the house. They think they’re safe. They’re wrong. I angle the gun, piercing all three of them in the heart of the chest. They collapse, all without a sound. Quickly, I maneuver the gun to the front of the house where the balcony is. Two men are up there keeping watch. Twisting the knob, I increase the focus. A clear shot. Perfect. Two more down within the blink of an eye. Five men down. I’m sure there are more out back. I can’t reach them, so I wait. They’ll call for each other to check for an update soon. Four minutes pass, three more men walk around the side of the house. They spot the dead men sagging against the wall, the blood splattered on the side of the house, and immediately draw their guns. One of them starts to talk into his walkie-talkie, but it’s too fucking late. My finger tugs on the trigger. One is shot through the forehead. One shot in the chest and through the neck, and the other the same way. Eight men down.

That leaves Maurice and Greg on the inside and maybe two more. They won’t come out. Not until they know I’m around. A bumping noise sounds downstairs, and I react fast, jerking away from the rifle and drawing my black handgun from the holster as I stand. One eyebrow elevated, I start to walk towards the door. Peeking around the corner, I spot a tall shadow creeping its way up the stairs, and I duck in the corner. Someone knows I’m here. The stranger takes the rest of the stairs cautiously. I step back, gun positioned. The floor creaks with each measured step. Then, several seconds later, he’s in the room. Scanning. Searching. And it’s funny how life just hands me this one. I’m not complaining. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment. Greg. Instead of looking to his right, he focuses on the rifle in front of the window, realizing this is the exact location the shooter was in. After putting two and two together, he turns rapidly, but it’s too late for him. The barrel of my gun is pointed at his forehead. “What kind of cop doesn’t check his surroundings? A Captain at that?” I ask. “Must be rusty with all that sitting around you do in your office.” He chuckles. My face stiffens. “Drop the fucking gun.” He drops it right away. “Kick it away from you.” “Yes sir.” His voice… so full of bullshit. My teeth grit as I keep my gun pointed at him, walking around to pick up his weapon. “You have the fucking nerve to mock me when I have you at gunpoint?” “He knows you’re here. I called it in.” I smirk. “With what, lying piece of shit?” I step forward, using one hand to pat him down. Nothing else is on him. “You came to try and take care of the

job yourself. Kill me, drag my dead body to your trunk, and turn it in for some chump change.” “You know, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, completely ignoring me. “Shut the fuck up,” I mutter. “I heard that it’s hard to take you down and even harder for anything to get through to you. I heard you had no weaknesses, that you kept people at armslength for your own safety while you ran Crow.” He shrugs, lips pressing. “I mean, it makes sense. No one to care about means no blackmailing or any feelings getting in the way. But London… ooohhh, sweet London,” he sings, his face turning eerily dreamy. Jaw locking, I press the barrel to his forehead, gripping his throat. “Don’t you dare say her fucking name, you worthless bitch,” I spew through clamped teeth. “Not after the way you stabbed her in the fucking back. She trusted you. She cared for you. She told me no because of how she felt for you. It was wrong to let her down. You fuck with her, you fuck with me.” “I can see why you let your guard down for her,” he goes on. “She has the wettest pussy and, not only that, she tastes so fucking good. I mean”—he laughs hoarsely, his throat working hard behind my hand —“I couldn’t get enough, and it wasn’t even supposed to mean anything to me.” “I told you to SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Never have I felt so angry. I’ve been tested—by West, taunted by Maurice, hell even my own father, but this… this crosses all boundaries. Knowing another man had his hands on my woman—my Red—and that I could do nothing about it, fucks with me. Rubs me the wrong way. Jealousy. That’s what it is, and I don’t give a fuck if I’m considered petty or selfish for the crime I’m about to commit. In fact, I will enjoy it. Savor it. Get high off the scent of his blood. Nostrils flared and panting, I step back and, without thinking, my gun goes off. His body tumbles to the ground, red mist showering the walls behind

him. Greg is on the floor before me, lifeless. My lip twitches as I glare him down as if he’s still alive. My shoulders are hunched, finger still bolted around the trigger. I inhale, shut my eyes for a brief moment, and then exhale, opening them again. Pleased. But then, I realize something… I’ve fucked up. My gun went off, no suppressor. It was heard. I rush for the rifle and bend down, checking the surroundings of her house. I scan the back, the side, and then front. And that’s when I see him. And Aden. My heart stops beating as I watch Maurice walk down the stoop with his hand on Aden’s shoulder, a gun pointed at his back. Aden isn’t scared because he doesn’t know what’s going on, but if he knew the danger he was in, he’d be terrified. Tears threaten me, but I fight them, running down the stairs and out the balcony door. The beach breeze whips at my wet eyes but I keep running, rounding the house and passing the dead bodies until I’ve come face to face with Maurice. “Ace!” Aden calls, excited to see me. “Ahh, Ace.” Maurice’s tone is lively, almost as if he really is glad to see me as well. I hold my hands up, but my eyes are focused on Aden. “I’m here. Let him go,” I demand. “I see you’ve been working.” He looks toward the balcony, a smirk forming on his lips. “That’s all my men.” “And Greg,” I snarl. “Yeah.” He shakes his head, shrugging. “Sucks. Told him to stay inside.” “I’ll give you what you want, alright? Just let Aden go, and we can settle this one on one.” Maurice laughs, almost demonically. “Do you really think I’m that dumb? I know the game ten times better than you, Ace Crow. What we’re going to do is go into the house. You’re going to write down everything I need to know and give me everything I want, including bank account numbers and pins, and

then I’ll consider letting Aden go.” He lifts his gun in the air. “Toss them. All of them.” I take my pistol out the holster and toss it near the bushes. I whip the Beretta out of the back of my belt and toss it as well, lifting my hands in the air again. Maurice raises a brow and lowers his pistol, murmuring something in Aden’s ear. His eyes are still hard on me. Once Aden starts to run towards the back of the house, the opposite side of where the deceased men are, I watch him, frowning. “What did you tell him?” “Get in the house, Ace,” he snaps. Wary, I watch Aden disappear before walking towards the front door and into the house. Maurice shoves me inside, and before I make it to the kitchen, he yanks me around. “Gotta make sure, right?” he smiles, patting me down. I stare him in the eyes, teeth bared. “Can’t believe you.” He laughs, checking my legs. “Can’t believe myself. But”— he sighs—“it is what it is. Gotta say, though, the business is much better without you. Started getting new clients, all except the ones that were loyal to working with you. Turns out, they’d rather lose business than work with anyone new. Probably the reason London’s big brother died. No one likes to see new faces, huh?” “Fuck you,” I spit. “Remember Krane?” he asks, forcing me to the kitchen. I don’t respond. “He was working with me. Made him a bunch of worthless promises. The man was foolish enough to believe them. I knew he’d end up dead the moment you noticed something was off. All that shit with him being angry with Jonah was just a cover up for me. He was bringing the attention to himself like I asked of him.” Gripping my shoulder, he forces me down in the chair, gun pointed at the back of my head. “Told him to make it a big deal, mess up Jonah’s life and friendship with you, get you to focus solely on

him and his behavior.” He sighs. “You looked at Jonah in a different way… like you saw potential for him to be the next to run Crow. I couldn’t have that so,” he murmurs in my ear, “I made sure Krane ruined his chances. The plan wasn’t for him to die, but, you know, shit happens in this tricky business of ours. Your men are weak. Terribly weak.” “Fuck you. My men weren’t weak. They were men ten times better than any of yours ever could be.” “You say that and yet, my men are still alive.” I grimace in his direction. He huffs, laughing as he takes a step aside for me to see him. “And Miss Stella Baker. Man, could she ride a dick. I assume you’ve taken care of her for me, though.” My eyes thin. “So that was your plan? Once you got what you wanted from me you were just going to kill everyone that helped you in the process?” “Of course! No loose ends! You know that rule. Ol’ Bruce taught us that one. Your father always had the best advice. Too bad he never followed through with his own.” My fists clench. Maurice keeps the gun pointed at me, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen off the counter. “How could you do this to Bianca? She trusted you the most. She loved you.” He smirks at me. “That was the plan, Ace. Get her to fall for me. Get her to trust me. I even had someone tempt her into doing heroine again. Remembered you told me she was on it once… told me it was a weakness of hers. She went to a club, someone brought her to VIP, and they offered it. Just like that. I had to make her weaker for me. I had to be the one to come running when she needed a helping hand. Trust, Ace. I needed her to trust me.” I bare my teeth, watching him intently as he sneers. “Of course, at first I thought she had a clue about the codes, but it turns out she wanted nothing to do with Crow’s bad side so she didn’t know jack shit. Only reason I kept her around was because she told me so much about you—things I never knew. It was a

good thing you made her more upset than you ever did happy. Whenever she was pissed, she couldn’t wait to drop the weight on me. I didn’t mind carrying it. It allowed me to learn who you really were.” “Yeah? And who am I?” He waves his gun. “Write.” I pick up the pen, my eyes darting over to the balcony door. I see Aden playing out back by the pool with his toy cars, a pair of headphones on. Safe. Good. I start to write, and Maurice continues. “You are a coward, Ace. The only thing you care about is yourself. You don’t give a fuck about the people that love and care for you. You’re bitter. Miserable. A fucking joke. You didn’t deserve Crow. You weren’t ready for it. It should’ve been handed to me. Bruce trusted me more than he did you. He knew you would try and change his foundation, and when I found out you did, I couldn’t believe it. So fucking stupid to let his men go and change everything. Bruce had it all, and you fucked it up.” “As long as I was getting paid, I didn’t give a fuck,” I mutter. “And I was a killer, yes, but the people that got killed deserved it.” I drop the pen. “I’m not Bruce. I want to be nothing like him. A shitty father. A worthless, careless piece of shit like you.” I look at Aden again. “That won’t be me. I’m not giving up, and you aren’t getting my codes. Don’t you think the codes have changed, anyway? It’s been three years, Maurice. Shit changes in the drug and gun business.” “Yeah, but not the people you worked with. The Russians. The French… Nah.” He shakes his head. “They don’t change theirs. There are numbers and other codes to get to the core one. I need all of them. I need their business. Once I have theirs, I’ll be set. Unfucking-stoppable. The king of the cartel world.” My eyes dart up to his, a small smile on my lips. “You think so?” He presses the barrel of the gun to my head. “I know so.” I laugh. “You really think I’m gonna hand it over just like that? So easily?”

He scowls. “It’s you and me, Maurice. Nobody else is around. You want what I worked for so badly?” I say, pushing out of the chair. “Then come fight for it.” “Sit down, Ace.” He stiffens his arm, gun pointed right at my face. “Or what, you’ll kill me?” He presses the metal to my head, nostrils flaring. “You know I will. Don’t fucking play with me.” “Go ahead. But you won’t get those codes. You wanna know why you never found them? Because,” I rasp, pressing two fingers to my temple, “they’re in here. In my fucking head. You will never get them, whether I’m dead or alive. So, no. You won’t be king of cartel. You will be Maurice, a liar, backstabber, and a dealer with no fucking respect.” Maurice’s whole demeanor changes in an instant. Fastening his jaw, eyes wide and filled with rage, he wraps his finger around the trigger, his body vibrating. I remain calm. “With or without my gun, Maurice, I will kill you. Even with that gun pointed right at me, I will kill you, and I don’t care if I die during the process.” His eyes expand, his finger pulls on the trigger, but I duck and tackle him to the ground. His gun goes off as I land on top of him. Snatching the gun away from him, I shove it across the room and then go for the other on his waist, sliding it across the floor as well. “I won’t make this shit easy,” I growl, gripping him by the throat and yanking his body up. I slam him against the wall, coming face to face with him. “You betrayed me. You lied to me! You hurt my family, threatened to kill them and me, and think I’m just going to let you get away with it?” His large body flies towards the table. He flops on the dense wood, and it shatters to the floor, splinters flying, his body crumpling with it. “Fuck you, Ace,” he spits, blood spilling out the corner of his mouth. I step on his chest. “How long?” I ask, grimacing. “How long what?!” he barks.

“How long were you planning to take me and Crow out?” His eyes bore into mine, wide and unafraid. “Ever since Bruce handed you the keys to Crow Towers. That should’ve been me! He made me promises, and he didn’t keep them. You think the business he ran is what killed him? No,” he cackles as I press my foot down harder on his chest. “No, Ace. I’m what killed Bruce. I set him up, just like I set you up in that alley. You’re both fools. You fell for everything. You gave Krane a second chance which was pretty fucking stupid of you, and London… well, she just made it simpler for me to get to you. She opened you up, made you so much easier to read. Softer. Weak!” His head shakes back and forth, eyes bulging out of the sockets. “You were an open fucking book. Should’ve stuck to your roots. Maybe your men would still be alive. Maybe Crow would still be alive!” My panting ceases, lips pinched tight. What the fuck? All this time I thought my father died during a trade when really it was Maurice. He’s the reason I could never forgive my father. I never had the chance because he took that away from me. If it weren’t for him, my father would probably still be alive. I’m not sure if we’d be on good terms, but he’d be alive. As much as I hated him, I still wanted him to become a better man. Realize the good he had in life. My eyes burn from tears begging to be shed. I’m hot all over. I feel like I’m on fire and won’t be put out until Maurice is gone. I thought he was my friend. I helped him get his business going, and this is how he betrays me? If he killed my father, a man he looked up to for guidance, I’m sure he would’ve killed London, Bianca, and Aden without any hesitation or remorse once I was gone. And that’s what hurts the most. The thought that I almost lost them to this son of a bitch. A growl comes from below, my ankle is twisted, and before I know it, I’m on my back, all the wind blowing out of me. Maurice is on his feet, looming

above me. He goes for the gun in the corner as I groan, recollecting needed oxygen. I let my guard down for less than five seconds, and just like that, he’s on top. Fuck! I hate that he learned the ropes the same way as I did! Any moment of weakness during a bad situation should be taken. No matter how it may end. Fucking Bruce. Stepping towards me, he angles the gun at my head. “Goodbye, Crow.” His finger touches the trigger, and this time, I’m sure I’m going to die. I’ve let them down. My loved ones. My son. My family. My head falls to the side, and I spot Aden standing by the pool, watching the beach. He has no clue what’s going on, and I’m glad. He doesn’t need to be a witness. He’s priceless in this moment. The beach wind blowing in his dark, curly hair, the way he plays with his cars, floating them in the air and surely making car noises. His headphones on, drowning out every terrible sound. Several seconds pass, but out of nowhere, Aden’s body is snatched up by a petite frame, long brown hair flowing in the wind, and they run away, out of sight. London? Something bangs against the wall from a distance, Maurice grunts, and he’s no longer above me, but on the ground. I bring myself back to the present, springing up and spotting Trent who has his foot pressed down on Maurice’s throat. “Ace!” Bianca calls, bending at my side. She helps me to a stand. I wince as I add weight to my ankle. She looks down. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay?” “Fine.” I brush myself off, leaning to the other side. Sprained ankle. Fucking great. She snatches her focus away from me and looks forward, eyes glistening as she watches Maurice

struggle for breath. “Trent,” she calls, stepping ahead. Her voice is thick. I stop her, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Bianca, don’t fall for his shit. He doesn’t love you. He used you.” She blinks at me but doesn’t say a word. “I’m going to kill him,” I tell her. “Regardless.” A single tear skids down her cheek. Bending down, she picks up Maurice’s pistol and slowly walks toward him. Trent steps back and comes to a stance at my side, both of us watching with caution. “Bianca,” Maurice croaks. He smiles at her. She doesn’t return it. “Remember that saying I was telling you about before… about Ace and all the girls?” she questions He nods, laughing dryly. “Oh yeah. Something like ‘beware of Ace Crow’… and some other shit with pussy.” He laughs again. “Crazy if you ask me.” She points the gun at him, arms locked. “That’s not the only reason people are afraid of him.” “Wait wait wait, Bianca! You know I was never going to hurt you. We were going to live good together once this was all over. I love you. I would never hurt you.” “Just like you loved Baker?” Her voice is thick with tears. “That was just business, babe.” “You said you were done with the business—that you were leaving it behind.” She sniffles. He pushes up on his elbows, holds onto her leg, and begins to say something else to most likely defend his honor, but in the same moment, she pulls the trigger. A bullet pierces his skull, and he crumples. Lifeless. Blood is spattered all over the floor and base of the wall. A masterpiece of Bianca Crow. In this moment, I realize she’s no longer Bianca Love. What she did here… that was her Crow blood finally breaking through and taking action. The kitchen goes still as blood puddles around her

lost love. Bianca is frozen, hair mangled and wild, dried blood on her elbows and hands from being locked up and beaten. “Bianca?” I call in a whisper, stepping forward. She turns around, looks me in the eyes, and then it happens. Exactly what I was expecting. She breaks down, falling to her knees, sobbing harder than I’ve ever heard before. Bianca has never killed anyone, but with Maurice, that was something she had to do. She fell for him. He lied to her, hurt her, and put us all in danger. “Ace… I swear—,” Her voice cracks as I bend down with her and pull her face to my chest. “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t know! I thought—” “Shh, Bianca. It’s fine. It’s done.” I rub her back. She sinks into my chest, heaving. She’s hurt, even more damaged than she once was. Is this because of me? I could blame myself, but I had no idea Maurice wanted to see me dead ever since I took over Crow. I thought he was a good man, someone I could trust—that we all could trust. I thought wrong. “London’s out front with Aden,” Trent announces before turning for the patio door and drawing a cigarette. “I’ll clean, make sure no trace of you is left behind.” “Come on.” I lift Bianca, wrapping her arm around me. We head towards the front door, me limping, and when I pull it open, I see London standing in front of Trent’s car with Aden gripped tight in her arms. Her face is blissful as she showers him with kisses. She’s at peace now that he’s safe. When she sees me, her hazel eyes spark, and my heart thumps in my chest like never before. We’re all safe. All together. One big family. London opens the back door for me, and I help Bianca inside. She straps Aden in and then shuts the door. Once it’s closed, she throws her arms around my neck, her hold constricting. I hold onto her,

relieved and so fucking thankful. “I was coming in right when Trent and Bianca pulled up,” she breathes. “I’m glad you didn’t come alone.” She pulls away, tears built up at the rims of her eyes. Her hands wrap around mine, and she lowers her head. “What?” I ask. “I’m just… glad you’re okay. When you went in there, I thought you would be gone again… I don’t know.” She struggles with a smile. I understand. This is a bittersweet moment. But I’m here… I’m here. “What is going on here?” A neighbor paces towards us, his eyes unbelievably wide, and his salt and pepper hair disheveled. He takes note of the dead bodies, the blood and guns everywhere. “London!” he rushes up to her, looking her over. “Are you alright?!” She nods, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m fine, Mr. Norris.” “Everything doesn’t look fine.” His eyes fill with horror. “I’ve already called the police. Did someone attack you?” His eyes immediately land on me. I frown. “No, he’s with me. He came to help. He saved me.” The man narrows his eyes at me, studying me. “Aare you…?” He gasps, whirling around. “Aden? Where is your boy?” he questions London. “In the car. He’s a little tired.” “You’re his real father,” the man breathes. I nod, lips sealed. London’s face is uncomfortable. She grabs the elderly Mr. Norris by the shoulders and leads him to the sidewalk. After speaking with him for a few minutes, Mr. Norris walks away but not without giving me one final stare-down. When he’s at his house, London rushes my way, grabbing my hands. “I told him to tell the police that someone tried to break in and that all the extra bodies were people that worked for him.” “They’ll think drugs were involved. They’ll

know.” “Who cares?” She shrugs. “They’ll assume it was Greg they were after. We’re getting the hell out of here.” “Gathered your guns and wiped the kitchen down,” Trent calls. “Check those bushes!” I point towards the rose bush in front of the house. He goes for it, pulling out my two handguns. “Both houses should be clear of fingerprints,” he goes on. “Cops won’t find anything but Maurice and his men here. No trace of you.” I nod at him, and he walks toward the car, sparking another cigarette. Lowering my gaze to London, a smile scratches at the surface of my lips, and my eyes soften. “Come here.” She grins as I start to pull her in for a hug, but a gun goes off, and she buckles. She clings to me, my eyes expand, and Trent runs around the car with stitched brows, looking up at the balcony. I look with him, spotting one of the men I shot from the window. He’s wounded, but not dead. I missed. I fucking missed. I put my focus on London, and slowly, her body descends. When I realize what’s happening, I clutch her in my arms. Another gunshot goes off. I don’t look. I can’t because I see blood below me. And it’s not coming from my body. It’s coming from her. I place her on the ground, seeing the bloodstain near her stomach. Blood. So much blood. Her head lolls, her eyes shut, but the back door swings open, and Bianca demands that I get her inside and hurry the fuck up to the hospital before the cops arrive. I’m in action. I can see that, but everything has faded to black and white. I’m in the driver ’s seat. Trent hops in the passenger seat, helping Bianca apply pressure to London’s wound. I pull off.

They’re panicking. Aden’s crying, wailing over his unconscious mother. I’m… cold. Empty. My emotions have been switched off. I can’t feel anything right now. Am I even thinking? Bianca screams, “Ace, she’s not going to make it!” And then, it finally hits me—like a baseball bat to the gut. My Red, the love of my fucking life, might die. And if she does, it will be my fault. Everything is always my fault. This life… the shit I go through, it will never fucking end.





I Know You Care – Ellie Goulding It’s all supposed to be over. Right? Wrong. A gun goes off. There’s blood. So much blood. Everywhere. Who’s is it? I cling to him, eyes wide. In shock. Another gunshot rings in my ears. I don’t look. I can’t because I’m falling… descending. My head falls on its own. I struggle for breath. Ouch. I feel pain. Lots of pain. Ace is above me, eyes wide and panicked, and moments later, I’m on the ground, unable to do anything. Everyone is screaming. I’m in a trance, a lost state of mind, but soon, everything fades and turns grey. The sun disappears. Ace disappears. I disappear. Darkness. Just like that, I’m gone… Gone. Now, I realize that it’s over. It’s finally over. Wow. Finally.





Mutron Angel - Outkast She’s placed on the hospital bed, motionless. Almost lifeless. Face pale and drained. Everyone is frantic, including the nurses and the doctor. Crimson surrounds her. I’m surprised she hasn’t bled out yet. But London… she’s a soldier. A fighter. It’s why I fell for her in such an unexplainable way. A woman that fights just as hard as I do. A woman that matches my fucked up ego so well. I should’ve been shot, not her. That shooter was aiming for me. I’m supposed to be on that bed and being hauled down to the operating room. Not her. I always fuck up. Always. How can I be so selfish as to keep her and everyone else around when anything could go wrong at any given time? I’m a wanted man, and they deserve better. They will always deserve better. Why did I ever come back?





All of Me – John Legend Beep... Beep… Beep… The only sound I hear. No. Wait... someone’s talking. The voice is deep and angry. I try adjusting my arm, twisting a little, but I wince and hiss through my teeth, the pain on the side of my stomach taking me completely off guard. “Ow… shit,” I curse under my breath. My eyes flutter open, surrounded by bright, luminescent lights. Lowering my head, I look towards the glass windows, spotting a woman in a white jacket with her arms crossed, defending herself, and the man I long for—Ace. He’s snapping at her, arguing with her. I frown, and with a dry, crackly voice, I call his name. I’m not sure how he can hear me outside the room, but he does. Immediately, he spins around, spots me with my eyes open, and rushes away from the doctor, storming into the room. She follows closely behind, an ocean of relief swimming in her eyes. “London,” Ace breathes, cupping my face. I start to speak, but his warm lips come down on mine, kissing roughly. Consuming. I’m sure I’d enjoy it, but with chapped lips and what I know is gross, stale breath, I push against him, fighting a weak laugh. He

draws back, but not willingly. “Sorry,” he murmurs, I smile. “Really that happy to see me?” His head shakes, and he releases a breath. “Baby, you have no fucking idea. I’ve been wanting to see those big, beautiful hazel eyes for three days now.” I frown and gasp. “Three days?” “That’s how long you were out.” Shocked, I look to my left at the doctor. She’s older, with short, curly, greying hair and cat-like glasses. “Hi, London. I’m Dr. Jacobs.” She steps forward, extending her arm. I glance down at her hand, quickly shaking it. “Nice to meet you.” “So nice to finally see you’re awake. We were starting to get worried.” She forces a smile, eyes bouncing from me to Ace. She’s nervous. Why? “No need to worry. I’m okay.” I give her my sweetest smile. Apparently, Ace said something that didn’t sit quite well with her. God, he can be such a dick. “Now that you’re up, I’ll send a few nurses in to check your vitals, your bandages and stitching, and then I’ll have them bring up a few hydrocodone.” “Some water would be nice too,” I tell her, voice scratchy. “I will have a fresh, ice-cold pitcher sent your way as well.” She looks toward Ace, and he nods. She returns the gesture then takes off without a single look back, shutting the door behind her. After watching her disappear, I look at Ace, narrowing my eyes. “What did you say to make her so afraid?” He sits on the edge of the bed. “What I had to.” I smack my teeth. “She’s just doing her job.” “Well, she was doing a terrible one. She got the bullet out, but apparently, they gave you a little too much anesthesia. You could’ve died. I don’t know if they want to call it a coma or just you sleeping, but you were out cold for nearly seventy-two hours. They kept giving you medicines and shit, and I just felt like they were making it worse. You know, yesterday, they wouldn’t even let me inside. Told me I

was disturbing the peace, so I told her ass if anything went wrong, she wouldn’t live to see next week. I didn’t say what I’d do, but I know she didn’t take it lightly. She performed the surgery. Should’ve been more careful.” I stare into his eyes. I could be angry, but what I see in his eyes is fear. Raw, actual fear. He was afraid to lose me. What would he have done if I’d died? Blow the whole hospital to smithereens? “Aw, Ace.” I grab his hands and squeeze them, creating an angelic smile. “Come here,” I whisper. He leans in close, resting his cheek on my chest. “I’m okay,” I whisper, stroking the back of his head. “I’m fine… see?” “Yeah. See that now. “ He sits up. “It’s not just me that was afraid of losing you.” I blink twice. “Aden?” “Bianca. Trent,” he goes on. “All of us thought you weren’t going to make it.” Swallowing hard, he adjusts on the bed, releasing my hands. “This is my fault, man.” “No, Ace.” My head shakes hard, mangled curls whipping. “Stop it. None of this is your fault.” “Maurice wanted me.” His voice is low and dark. It’s scaring me. “He wanted me dead, and he would’ve taken out everyone I cared about.” “You didn’t know.” My voice is barely a whisper. His eyes flicker up, tears threatening to spill. “That’s the thing, though”—he rubs his forehead—“a part of me has always known Maurice was envious. I just didn’t think he’d do anything about it.” His jaw ticks as he says through gritted teeth, “I should’ve just stayed the fuck away. I shouldn’t have come back. You, Aden, and Bianca… you all deserve better. You deserve more than me. All I’ve ever done is bring trouble. Since day one, you knew I was trouble. I could see how little you trusted me when we first met. You were suspicious, and you had every right to be. I’m no fucking good for you or even my own flesh and blood.” Appalled, I stare at him, confused as to how he went from begging to see my eyes to this. Tormented.

Blaming himself. He stands up and steps back, looking towards the window to my left. My heart thunders erratically as I watch him walk backwards, nearing the door. Sitting up, I grip the edge of the mattress and ask, “Ace, what the hell are you doing?” He doesn’t respond right away. “Ace!” “Should go,” he whispers. “Should just get the fuck away.” “Don’t be a fucking moron. Ace, please…” My throat thickens with tears. “Please just come here. I know you blame yourself, but I don’t blame you. I chose this,” I state, jabbing a finger at my chest. “I wanted you, and I knew what came with the desire I had for you. There are consequences to every choice.” I feel my face getting hot, my body trembling. He can’t leave. I won’t let him, no matter how guilty he feels. “Please,” I beg. “Come to me.” He hesitates, gaze on the floor. A few seconds pass before he finally sighs and steps forward, taking off his navy-blue suit jacket. He tosses it on the chair in the corner, and after marching forward, he presses the button to lower the bed completely. Once I’m flat on my back, his hands frame my head, his face right above mine. He breathes raggedly while my breathing turns shallow. We stare at one another, lost in our own world, oblivious to what’s going on outside of it. “Why do you love me?” he asks, eyes like strong copper, trying hard to mask whatever pain he’s feeling. “I’m no good, London. You know that. I’m nothing but trouble. Just because Maurice is gone doesn’t mean there aren’t still people out there that want to see me dead. There are hundreds of people in this world that want me gone, and if they find out I’m still alive and without a group of men to back me up, they’ll come for me, and they won’t hesitate to kill me.” My bottom lip quivers. “They won’t find you.” “Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“Because once I’m out of here, we’re leaving. And we’re not looking back.” “Leaving?” he cocks a brow. I nod. “Greece?” he questions. I smile. “We can go there… we can go anywhere.” “You’ll go anywhere with me? After everything I’ve put you through?” He narrows his brows. “Yes.” He licks his lips, studying my face, most likely searching for the truth. “Answer my question.” He brings a hand up to stroke my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His eyes are no longer hard or wet. They’re soft and sincere. “If I answer, you can’t leave.” He scans my face but doesn’t say a word. I sigh, watching him as he watches me. For a brief moment, his eyes land on my lips, and I know he’s tempted. His breathing changes, his eyes flood with need, but he holds off, bringing those stormy brown eyes back up to meet mine. “When I first met you,” I start, releasing trapped breath, “I hated you. I wanted nothing to do with you, and then when Jonah died and I saw you standing right there, watching it all go down, I hated you even more.” He winces like I’ve just slapped him right across the face. “But when we went to New York, all of that changed. That day, when you had an entire breakfast buffet set up just for me, I knew there was a human in there somewhere. You had an actual conversation with me that morning. You made me feel real… alive. Something I hadn’t felt in years.” I squeeze my hands into fists, fighting off tears. He remains stationary, his silence begging for continuation. “I haven’t felt alive since my parents died. Losing Jonah completely wiped me out. I was devastated, and for a while, I felt like God was punishing me, but I couldn’t figure out why. And then, I get you, a man I hardly knew, demanding me to come to New York for protection. As much as I wanted to die back then, I knew it was best to go.

Why? Because I’m a survivor. Always have been. Always will be. I finally learned that I was in New York for a reason. It wasn’t for me, but for you. I… changed you, Ace. And you changed me. While in New York, I blossomed into a real woman. I mean shit,” I laugh, a tear sliding down the side of my face, “I carried your child—my first child—and I enjoyed every single minute of it. Every kick. Every flip and roll. My aching back, swollen feet… even the contractions. I loved the feel of everything because a part of that was you touching me without actually being there. The only thing I didn’t appreciate was you not being able to witness it.” I press the button on the side of the bed, and it inclines, propping me back up. Ace doesn’t budge as it ascends. His hands are still planted on the bed outside my head, his gaze still focused on me. “I love you because, whether you believe you’re too ruthless or reckless or even too much of a monster for me, I don’t see that. Inside you, I see light that wants to break through. I see a man that wants to try. A man that will do anything for the people he loves. I see a man that would never, in a million years, harm his family. A man who puts his love first. I see someone broken and damaged, but strong and independent. I see someone that’s just like me. You and me, Ace,” I whisper, wrapping my hand around the nape of his neck and stroking behind his ear, “are just alike. We’ve been through hell and back. We fight when we have to. We do unspeakable things in order to survive. Mine may not be as intense as yours, but we’re the same. And whether you realize it or not, we needed each other back then just like we need each other now. Back then, we were lost, and somehow, while spending time with one another, we found ourselves. I can’t let that go. I refuse to let that go.” Speechless, Ace stares at me, eyes glistening. For me, the waterworks have begun. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, my throat thick, desperately in need of water, but right now, I don’t care. I want him to know I mean this. “If you leave, it’s like backing out

of everything we’ve created together. It’ll be like we didn’t even exist.” The rims of his eyes redden. His mouth opens as if he wants to speak, but immediately, it clamps shut, and he squeezes his eyes closed, head dropping. I’ve robbed him of words. I kiss his forehead, lifting my hand to hold onto his forearm. I rest my cheek on his warm skin, crying without much noise. “All of that,” he whispers, bringing his lips to my ear. The heat of them makes me the tears come to a minor halt, a tingle between my legs. “You mean that?” “Every word.” I can feel his cheeks spread to smile. He lowers his arms, sitting on the edge of the bed and bringing my face to his chest. He allows me to cry for a few minutes. I need a good cry. After all we’ve been through, after so many years of thinking I would never see him again, I’m grateful. He may not feel like we’re free, but I know we are. No one will know Ace Crow is still alive because we’re leaving. We’re starting over. Knowing that we get a clean slate satisfies me. We deserve one. He deserves one. “Costa Rica.” I swipe my eyes and look up. “What?” He looks down. “I knew you’d want to leave, start fresh, so I sent Trent to Costa Rica, and he found a home for us.” I sit up, but pain pierces my side, and Ace grips my arms, forcing me to stay still. “Seriously?” “Seriously.” He grins, showing me that beautiful white smile. “I was never going to leave, London. I just needed to know you were sure about being with me. Had to shake you up a little. You’ve just proved to me that you are. Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to understand, but you get me. While you were out cold, I couldn’t help but think about leaving and letting you live on your own, do your own thing like you did before… without me.” “No.” I cling to him. He smiles, holding and

squeezing me with reassurance that he isn’t going anywhere. I ease up on my grip. “Not going anywhere, Red. I’m here,” he assures me. “Right fucking here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Pleased, I nod and rest my head on his chest. “Good. I can’t lose you again.” “And I can’t let you go. You’re mine, London. Only mine.” He lifts my head, letting it be known that it will be that way forever. Butterflies thrash around the pit of my belly. Heat floods my veins, igniting my soul. “So… Costa Rica, huh?” “Yep,” he sighs. “The home is right on the beach. Four bedrooms. One for me and you, Aden, a guestroom, and another room for our next child.” I snort a little, and Ace chuckles. “Next child? Right.” He brings a finger down, tipping my chin. “I’m serious. I want another with you, but this time, I actually wanna be there. I wanna start a family with you. I wanna raise them right. I know I’m late with Aden, but I will get him to grow up to be a smart young man. Violence won’t even be in the question. I won’t let him grow up the way I did. And I damn sure won’t be like Bruce. I want to be there for my kids, attending soccer games, football tournaments, having game nights… all that sappy shit families do.” “You’re serious?” I whisper. “As a heart attack, Red.” A slow smile snakes across his lips. “Who knows, maybe the next one will be a girl? Beautiful just like her mother. But if a motherfucker crosses her the wrong way, the old Ace will return. I’m always prepared to fuck shit up.” His face twists, a mix of happiness and curiosity. I can tell he’s thinking about the future now. A future so bright and full of life. One I’m really looking forward to. No drama. No stress. No guns or drugs or violence. A real life as a family.

Peace, something I’ve always longed for. I laugh as he looks down, shrugs, and places a kiss on my cheek. “We’ll see.” His eyes smile, studying me. I can’t stand when he does that, yet deep down, I kind of enjoy it. It’s like I’m still a mystery to him— like he’s still trying to figure me out. I guess that’s a good thing. I don’t want to be easy for him to read. I want him to continue learning more about me, just like I’m still learning more about him each and every day. We’re both these huge boxes containing secrets and personal possessions that have yet to be discovered. For the future and all those hidden things, I can’t wait. “Where are Aden and Bianca anyway?” “Hotel a block away. She got checked out, but other than a few stitches, everything was fine with her. Also had to give a report to the cops since you were out cold. They’ll be coming back tomorrow by the away.” I nod. “I’ll call her, let her know you’re finally awake.” He blows a sigh, wiping his face. “It was tough getting Aden to understand what was going on. Watching your own mother get shot and bleed like that… shit.” He strokes my hair. “By the way, we owe Trent a new car.” I fight a smile. “We owe Trent more than a new car. What did you tell Aden?” “That you fell and got hurt and that you had to take a few days to get better. You know how kids are. They’ll believe anything. He’s been asking about you constantly, but he’s been calm. He knows you’re in a safe place with good doctors, good food, and funny cartoons. What I told him.” I grin. “Good. I don’t want him to worry.” “He’s perfect,” he sighs. “Intelligent. Funny. Silly. Understanding. A little stubborn. He obviously got that from his mama.” “Oh please,” I laugh. “That’s definitely you!” His right cheek lifts, half-smiling. Bringing his hand from my hair to my cheek, he cups it and leans

forward. Smoothly, his lips touch mine, devouring, and he groans as if he’s wanted this kiss for years. A tender kiss in the midst of a tender moment. My heartbeat catches speed, and the machine beside me beeps faster and faster. When his tongue sweeps across mine, the machine is at its highest. The door flies open, and with a deep, panty-melting chuckle, Ace pulls back, a magnetic hold on my eyes. I’m sure I look like complete shit. I’m in a hospital gown. My hair is a thick, matted mess. I could use a mint or two, yet he looks at me as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I listen as the sound of the beeps digress and the nurse comes toward me, placing her stethoscope on the heart of my chest. “You two are going to get me in trouble,” she teases. I lower my head, concealing a laugh. Ace stands from the bed. “I’ll call Bianca. Let her know what’s up.” I nod, watching him whip out his cellphone and half-walk, half-limp out the door. “That’s one persistent man of yours,” the nurse says, stepping around to lift my gown. “He wouldn’t leave at all. We had to beg him to go home and change clothes… eat… something. He finally caved yesterday.” “He was that much trouble, huh?” Surprisingly, she shakes her head and smiles. “He’s determined. It’s understandable. I was one of the few that refused to keep him away.” After applying a new bandage, she places a hand on her hip and says, “He loves you. I’ve never witnessed a love so strong. You’ve got a good one, girl. Hang onto that. Never let go.” And after tossing the old bandages away, giving me a full cup of water, and letting me know she’ll bring me a few painkillers, she’s out the door. My eyes travel back over to Ace who’s standing outside of the room with his cellphone to his ear. He’s already looking at me. He winks, smiling

charismatically. He’s beautiful. He once was dangerous to me, but now, I feel nothing but safe in his arms. I’m glad to know I’m all he needs—glad to know he no longer desires the “business” in order to survive. He loves to keep on top, and he enjoys power, but while we’re together he doesn’t need it. My Donovan… my Ace Crow. He’s back. He’s mine. I’m his. At first, I thought he was poison for my soul, toxic in everyway, but I was wrong. He’s light in my life, regardless of all the darkness and hell we’ve been through. He keeps me on my toes. He makes me better. He was a gift from above—a fallen angel I was able to fix and make whole again. A gift I will cherish for the rest of my life. I could’ve lost Ace three years ago just like I lost Jonah, but I didn’t. He’s alive and here for a reason. He’s my rock. He’s a part of the new London Stallone. And I’m apart of the new him. The restored Ace Crow. The new and transformed Ace Crow The real Ace Crow. Apparently, we belong together because through thick and thin, we’ve always stuck by one another. I will never let go. And while he smiles at me through the glass window, so calm and completely irresistible, I know he won’t let go either. The fight to be with one another is over. Time to put that intimidating BEWARE sign behind us. It’s time to live… Live happily. Live freely. Live peacefully. Live and love unconditionally.





Born To Die – Lana Del Rey Six Days Later The police station is flooded with men in black and navy blue uniforms, sporting silver or gold badges. The press is around, I’m sure. I see the news station vans, people waiting around the front of the building with cameras. Sighing, I lower the visor and give myself a quick check. Bianca insisted on keeping a sweet and innocent look, like I had no clue about what happened back in Creole. A few brushes of mascara, some nude lipstick, and a calm cat eye, no bottom liner or eye shadow. “This is fucking ridiculous,” I sigh. “Just go in, answer the questions, and then you’ll be out of there,” Ace says through the speakerphone. I shut the visor, pick up the phone and take the speaker off. Pressing it to my ear, I ask, “What if he asks if this was related to you?”

“He will, and you’ll say yes. Make it seem realistic. You’ve got this, London. Breathe. Relax, babe.” “Bianca didn’t have to do this,” I mutter. “That’s because everyone knows Bianca Love is busy, and if she doesn’t want to speak, she doesn’t have to. She’s already given a report as a witness, and the paparazzi are hounding her. The NYPD’s new target is you, Ace Crow’s ‘former ’ lover.” He laughs at himself. I look towards the station, spotting Agent Wales with a briefcase in hand, making his way through the revolving doors. “I don’t understand why.” “You know why. Like you said before, this is what you signed up for when you decided to love me.” Defeated, I murmur, “I know.” “So go in there, kill that shit, and meet me back at the hotel so we can get the fuck out of this country.” “I want that,” I grin. “Badly?” “Yes.” “For you, me, and Aden?” “Yes. For all of us.” “Then get that fine ass in gear and show them what it’s about.” I laugh, and after I tell him I love him, I end the call. Placing the phone in my blue clutch, I exhale and push out of the car, slamming the door behind me. After I’ve adjusted my sky-blue blouse and black skirt, I march forward in my matching blue stilettos and head for the building. I keep my head held high as cameras flash around me. I don’t care if they see my face this time. It’ll be the last time they see me in person. Might as well let them enjoy it. When I enter the building, it’s surely busy. Officers and men in suits are walking back and forth. Before, the sight of the guns on their waist used to terrify me, but after having so much experience with one, they no longer intimidate me. Walking to the front desk, I lean forward a bit and

smile at the man behind the computer. “Help you?” he asks without looking up. “Yes. I’m here to see Agent Wales. I have a hearing with him in ten minutes.” The man looks up immediately, his chubby cheeks dropping, mouth parting. “You are the woman from Creole? London Stallone?” “That’s me.” I force a smile. He quickly stands, searching his desk for the visitor badge appointed to me as well as a clipboard. “Just sign here. I’ll page Wales, let him know you’ve arrived.” He points at a dotted line on the paper after handing me the badge, but his eyes don’t dare drift from mine. I sign it and turn right away, badly wanting to get out of his presence. How does he know about me? Yes, it was mentioned on the news and it was unexplainable from anyone outside of it, but they knew nothing about me other than the fact that I was one of the few that were injured. No names were ever listed. Lifting the badge, I slide it across the laser, and the door unlocks, allowing me access inside. To my surprise, Agent Wales is already standing a few feet away from the door, hands in his front pockets. He’s a decent looking man to be in his late forties. Had I not been so distraught the last time I saw him, I probably would’ve admired his chiseled chin with the small dimple on the center, his nice green eyes and his cropped, peppery hair. “Good morning, Miss Stallone,” he greets, extending a hand my way. I shake it. “It’s great to see you again. Feeling well?” I glance down, feeling a slight pain on my right. The painkillers I took kind of numbed the wound, but it’s not easy to overlook. “Never better,” I respond. “And you?” “I’m great.” He smiles. “Follow me.” I follow Agent Wales down the hallway, passing people who stare at me, baffled. My forehead creases, confused by all the stares and whispers. One woman, I literally have to stare down in order for her to look away.

“Right in here.” He gestures to an open room on our left, and I walk ahead of him, glad to get away from the oglers. He shuts the door behind him and then walks around me, unbuttoning his suit jacket. I realize what that gesture means—we’re going to be here for quite a while. “Would you like some water, coffee, anything?” he offers. I take the seat across from him, head shaking. “No thank you. I’ve already had a cup from Braxton’s around the block.” His lips press, forcing a smile as he opens a folder and lifts a stack of papers. “Do you mind me asking how long this will take, Agent Wales?” “Hmm… not too long. As long as you cooperate, you’ll be out of here in no time.” Cooperate? He says that as if he already knows something—like I’m a criminal. “Right.” Pulling the microphone to the center, he turns it on and faces it in my direction. “You remember how this went last time, correct?” I nod. “You’ll have to speak, Miss Stallone.” “Yes, I remember.” “Good.” He relaxes in his seat, folding one leg on top of the other and holding a sheet of paper in front of him. After scanning the paper several times, he asks, “So, why don’t you start off by telling me exactly what happened in Creole?” My throat works up down. “Well, I moved there over a year ago. When I first got there, I found a home in Oasis Valley. It seemed safe. Serene. Good for my son.” I fold my fingers tight in my lap. “Then, after three months I meet Captain Greg Price—” “Before you continue, would you consider Captain Price a dirty cop?” I struggle with answering. “I… wouldn’t say that exactly. I think he was just going off of orders.” “A bad cop,” Wales states. “He was on someone’s payroll.” “I’m sorry, Agent Wales, can we just get to the

point, please?” I realize how impatient I sound, so I back myself up. “My son has spent the last week without me. I’d like to go home as soon as possible and be with him.” Wales sits forward, placing his sheet of paper down and folding his fingers on top of the table. “Of course, Miss Stallone. Since you’d like to get straight to the point, I got word that there was a witness. A neighbor of yours. A few other neighbors called in and reported gunshots but weren’t brave enough to go out and check. But there was one man that says he saw you outside with a young mixed woman, whom I assume is Bianca Crow, and a young boy, whom I assume is your son. Is that correct?” “Yes.” “Well, here’s the funny thing…” He laughs a little, fingers unfolding and tapping on the table. “He also mentioned a man. The description he gave us was tall, mixed, and kind of uptight. Very protective of you.” “He was probably mentioning Trent.” “Trent?” “Yes. Trenton Brookes. He came to check in on me that week.” “Trenton Brookes used to work for Ace Crow, didn’t he?” “Yes. Just like Bianca is his cousin and Aden is his son.” “You have lots of ties with him, Miss Stallone. You two must have been really close.” I narrow my eyes as he glares at me. “Is there a point here, Agent Wales?” His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and he doesn’t speak right away. Instead, after staring each other down for nearly ten seconds, he pulls the microphone back, turns it off, and slides it aside. “Let’s not play dumb. That wasn’t Trent the man was describing. Trent is Caucasian. He’s not mixed.” “Mr. Norris is a very old man. He has terrible eyesight. I’ve actually had to go help him find his glasses a few times. That day, Agent Wales, he wasn’t wearing his glasses.”

“He said this mysterious man was touching you… hugging you. Are you telling me that Trenton Brookes is having an affair with you? I’ve looked into all of Ace’s men, kept up with them, and Trenton has a family. They look happy. Why would he ruin that?” “Trent and I are just friends.” I lean forward, sighing. “If you’re trying to get me to say that it was Ace Crow standing there, perhaps Mr. Norris was just seeing the angel he is now. If I’m remembering clearly, you confirmed to me that Ace Crow is dead. He died on May 17th, 2012.” “Oh please, Miss Stallone,” Agent Wales spits, slamming his hands on the table. “You and I both know that was bullshit. We had to tell you that to get you to back off of the case. That wasn’t his DNA. It wasn’t his case. An employee lied on the autopsy, and for that, they were terminated and put in jail.” My eyes expand. “Wow,” I say, pretending to be shocked. “H-how didn’t I know that? Why would they lie?” “To protect someone, and I think you know exactly who they were protecting.” Nixon West, the man that brutalized the man I love, but I’ll never tell. “No,” my head shakes. “I don’t. How would I know?” “Because,” Wales breathes, standing from his seat and walking behind me. “He came to you. He’s the one that fought for you. That bullshit report you and Bianca gave to Creole, I didn’t believe it for a second. Maurice wouldn’t just attack you after three years. Too random. It doesn’t make sense. He knew he’d never get anything out of you. You don’t know the details of how Ace ran Crow. You were on the outside. Clearly, Maurice had to have a motive. “Maurice and Ace grew up together. It was clear there would be tension between them sooner or later. Working with your friends in that kind of business never turns out well. My theory is Maurice planned Ace’s death. He had him kidnapped, had someone pretend the body was his. That person planted DNA, hair… everything we needed in order for us to

automatically assume it was Donovan Crow who died in that alley that day. Only,” he whispers, almost in awe, “it wasn’t.” He steps to my side, looking down at me. I hold his gaze. “Covering for a felon will lead to some serious jail time, Miss Stallone. You would be an accessory to over fifteen murders. I’m saying fifty years to life. Are you sure you want to defend this man and lose everything, including that precious son of yours? The room stills. If a pin dropped, it would make my ears ring. I know what he’s trying to do. Ace warned me of this. “Agent Wales, Ace Crow is dead. I’m not sure who’s putting these theories in your head or why you’re so obsessed with his case, but Maurice Grimes attacked us because Bianca no longer wanted to be with him.” “Why would he need eight men, nine including Price, just to kill two innocent women?” He leans down, getting closer to my face. “He had those men there because there was some kind of threat. That threat was Ace Crow. So where is he, London?” “Dead,” I rumble through clamped teeth. “Dead?” “Yes. Dead.” “You know just as well as I do that that’s not true. He’s out there somewhere. Protecting you. Watching over you. Wherever you are, he’s somewhere close. I can easily follow you from here, camp out, and wait. I don’t mind. My wife left me, my kids are in college,”—he lifts his hands in the air, dropping them dramatically—“ I have all the time in the world, London.” “Go ahead. You won’t find him anywhere.” I stand from my seat, clearing my throat. “You’re trying to intimidate me, make me shake in my heels by threatening me with jail time, but we both know that if the word gets out that a forensics tech lied on Ace Crow’s autopsy, there will be an uproar. They will question the NYPD, the FBI, and every cop out there. They won’t trust you. They won’t feel safe. All because of one single fuck up. I would hate for so

many people to lose their jobs because of budget cuts.” Agent Wales’s eyes bore into mine, his jaw ticking. “Where. Is. He?” “Dead,” I repeat. “Ace Crow, the one you’re supposedly after, is gone. You are chasing a ghost. And if you can’t come to terms with that, then I feel sorry for you. What a lonely, pathetic life you must have to still think a man that passed away three years ago is still alive. Those may not be his ashes, but what makes you think he isn’t still dead? Like you said, you think someone kidnapped him. That person has most likely killed him by now.” Wales plants his hands on his waist, lowering his head and laughing. “I can’t believe this.” “Believe it.” I pick up my clutch. “So, Miss Baker. We find her murdered in her home, fingers cut off her right hand, throat sliced, cellphone missing. Soon, we find out through her emails that she and Maurice had been talking quite a lot. I find it odd that she just so happened to die while Maurice was in Creole. There’s only one person that knew her that could kill and not leave a single trace of himself.” He taps his foot, and I fold my arms. “We all knew Baker had it coming. She defended criminals. She started losing cases after hearing Ace died because she was too busy pretending to care. Not having a clear conscious can really get to you after a while. Any one of her clients that was in prison because she lost a case could’ve hired a hit man to torture her and take her out.” He smirks. “Right around the time that you and Bianca get attacked by Maurice?” “Coincidences rarely happen in my world, but they happen, Agent Wales.” “All bullshit,” he snuffs. “That’s my story. The truth. You can take it or leave it.” I turn for the door, snatch it open and walk down the hallway, doing my best to maintain my composure.

“I’ll take it, Miss Stallone!” Agent Wales calls from the room. “But I won’t leave it. Not for a second.” I don’t look back, even as confused eyes travel over to me. I feel like the star of a really bad show. Everyone is looking at me, but instead of admiring, they’re unsure. The man I’m involved with, it terrifies them to think that I used to be his. They don’t know what I’m capable of. To them, a woman that falls in love with Ace Crow must be just as crazy and homicidal as he was. They’re wrong. A woman that loves Ace Crow is a strong woman. A woman that has been through hell and back and would still go through the worst just to be with him. A woman that loves Ace Crow isn’t perfect, but she’s worthy. They don’t see that, and that’s okay because I know my worth. I know what he sees. My purity, although I’ve almost had to shed some blood. A nurturing spirit, one he can rely on to keep his head on straight. The mother of his first child, a love that never fades. His Red. His fiancée. His everything. That’s all that matters. When I walk out of the station and hop into my car, I dig through my clutch and pull out the round diamond cut, $30,000 ring. I slide the platinum band on my ring finger. I can’t help but stare at it, holding it in the sunlight. I’ve been waiting years for this moment. I knew I would get married one day. I always assumed it would be to a good guy with a decent job. A really nice guy that has no criminal background or even a bad driving record. Boy, was I was wrong. When I checked out of the hospital, Ace took me to the hotel and after helping me with my pills, I dozed off. Several hours later, I awoke, drowsy, head foggy. I groaned as I turned on my side, feeling the urge to fall asleep again, but to my left was a folded red card, and

in front of it, a jewelry box. I sat up on one elbow and scanned the room for him. He was nowhere in sight, so I picked up the card and read it. Red, My skies were dark without you, but you brought me the moon and an abundance of stars. My heart was cold and hollow, but you filled it with warmth and humanity. I thought I was living the life, but it turns out I wasn’t really living until I met you. You say I’m no monster… I say I’m a monster in love. A tamer monster. One that can now be controlled. One that was pulled from the darkness beneath the bed and appreciated for who I am. Despite the scars, despite the damage, you accept me. Acceptance is what this internal monster needs. The future is bright. It’s calling us. I will be the man you need. The man to take care of you. The man I promised I’d be. Your man. Here. Always and forever. Ace Blinking my tears away, I dropped the card and reached for the jewelry box, but Ace’s voice filled the room, coming out of thin air. “Don’t touch that.” I jerked my hand away and looked over my shoulder as he appeared from the bathroom. “What the hell are you doing in there?” “The doctor told me as long as you keep your bandages on and keep it taped down, you could take a shower. No baths, though. Fucking sucks.” I glance over his shoulder, spotting flickering lights. Candle lights. “Was just getting the shower ready for you.” He walked around the bed, meeting at my side. Grabbing my hand, he helped me sit up, and I swung my legs around, dangling them over the edge of the

king-sized bed. “Ace, don’t tell me that’s what I think it is…” My eyes traveled over to the black box on the nightstand. His lips quirked up on one side. “It’s what you think it is.” He stands again, dropping to one knee before me. I gasp, placing a hand over my mouth. “You know I don’t do a lot of sappy shit,” he laughed. “But, shit, this moment calls for it. London, I almost lost you, and realizing that practically made me lose my shit. I didn’t know what was going to happen if something went wrong and you ended up dead because of me.” He squeezed my hands, eyes glistening from the dim light in the corner. “I know I’m not perfect, and I never will be, but I want you to realize there’s nothing I want in this world more than you and my son. I fought because I want that bright future with you. I want to start over. I want us to live the way a family is supposed to… the way I never did. I want you and Aden to have the fucking world.” He huffed a laugh. “Shit, I want us all to have the world. No looking back. Just moving forward.” He reached for the box, keeping his other hand tightly wrapped around mine. “I hardly make promises, Red, but tonight—and forever—I promise to make you a happy woman. I promise to never lie to you. I promise to put you and my family first, always, and I promise to never look back. With you, I’ll only move forward. With you is where I want to be. You are my heart, my soul… my life. You are the reason I’m still breathing.” Opening the box, he revealed the large diamond ring, and my heart clambered in my chest. I cupped my mouth, astonished. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Oh my God, Ace,” I breathed as he pulled it out and slid it on my finger. “Like it?” “I love it! How much was this thing?” “A good thirty grand. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to tell you the price, though. Ruins everything, right?” “No. Not at all.” I wrapped my arms around his

neck, planting a kiss on his sculpted lips. “You know I don’t care about that, babe. The price doesn’t matter.” His lips pressed, pleased with my response. Placing a warm, soul-consuming kiss on my lips, he held me tight, and I melted inside, wanting so badly for him to take me—snatch all of my clothes off and make love to me all night, from the bedroom to the shower and then to the bedroom again. But it couldn’t happen that night. Stupid gunshot wound. “London.” He broke the kiss, his voice husky. “Marry me, baby.” He clutched my hip with one hand, his other sliding down to hold my ass. “Be my wife. Hold me down for the rest of my life.” Eyes glistening, I nodded so hard my head felt like it would roll right off my neck. I squeezed him, drawing him in for another passionate kiss as fingers threaded through his thick hair. “Yes,” I mustered through wet, sugary kisses. “Yes, Ace Crow. I will be your wife.” Shit, after all we’ve been through not marrying him would feel wrong.





Balmain Jeans – Kid Cudi Four Years Later “Daddy!” A holler floods the tunnel of my ear. I hop up, looking down at Melanie, my three-year-old daughter. She puts on a bashful smile, knowing how much it bugs me for her to scream in my ear, yet she does it every single day. “Mel,” I groan, rubbing my face. “You might as well be my personal alarm clock.” I pick her up, providing a tight bear hug and nuzzling her neck. She giggles, and from behind me, London groans. “It’s seven in the morning!” “Mommy! You look boo-tee-ful.” London laughs. “Are you using your charm on me, Mel?” Mel grins. “Maybe.” “Look at that. Just like daddy.” I nuzzle her neck again then place her on her feet. Bending down, I say, “Where’s Aden?” “He’s in the living woom with Auntie Yanca and Unca Trent.” “Well, why don’t you go find them for me and tell them I said good morning.” I flash an identical smile to hers, her bright brown eyes sparkling from the rising sun. “Can you do that for me, baby girl?” “Yeah, Daddy.” She hugs my face, tilts my head down, and kisses my forehead. Afterwards, she dashes out of the bedroom, and when I hear her tiny

footsteps drifting down the hallway, I shut the door. “She’s wild,” I chuckle. “Like her father.” London yawns. As she stretches, I walk around the bed, running my eyes from her face to her perfect ass. “How’s my wife this morning?” She flips around as I run the palm of my hand up the back of her thigh. Swatting it away, she says, “She’s just fine, thank you.” Teasing me. That smile on her lips gives it all away. Climbing out of bed, she walks around me, and I watch her enter the bathroom. I follow her inside. We brush our teeth, but I don’t take my eyes off her. Dropping her toothbrush, she asks, “Ace, why are you staring at me like that?” I laugh, lifting my hands in the air. “What, I can’t stare?” “Not like that… like you wanna eat me alive.” I place my toothbrush down, smirking. “Maybe,” I murmur, stepping closer and cupping her ass in my hands, “that’s exactly what I want.” “Oh, no.” She pushes against me, blushing, doing her best not to laugh. “I have to get the kids ready. I promised I’d take them to the beach today.” “We have all day, babe. Plus Bianca and Trent are down stairs. They’ll handle them for a few minutes.” “Just how long is a few minutes?” she inquires, running a finger along the cross tattoo on my chest, one eyebrow raised. “Sixty,” I tease. She laughs out loud. “Sixty! You are insane!” My eyebrows elevate. “Am I?” I grab her hand and drag her out of the bathroom. Spinning her around, she gasps as I toss her on the bed, the sheets puffing like clouds as she lands gently. Hungrily, I stare at her, watching as she tucks her fingers beneath the strap of her panties. She starts to pull them down and my cock twitches, pulsing. I step forward, but she holds a hand up, pointing at the door. “Lock it.” My head shakes. The precautions we take for our

children. I’m sure they wouldn’t be pleased to see me fucking the shit out of their mother. Because I’m not soft. I’m rough. I fuck. Hard. Stepping forward, my eyes travel down the length of London’s bare body. She’s tossed her shirt and panties on the floor. She’s glorious in all her naked beauty. She was insecure of it after Melanie. Shit. She’s still beautiful. Stretchmarks, bullet scar, and all. I tell her every single day. Gripping her thighs, I climb between her knees and drag her towards me. She giggles as I lean forward, placing one torturous kiss on her lips. My fingers slide between her thighs, one easing its way across her clit. I rub slowly, with ease. A serious wave runs through her when she realizes what I’m getting at. “I’m going to tease the hell out of you until you can no longer take it, and just when you’re about to cum, Red, I’m going to suck every trace of you away.” She writhes under my finger as I bring my lips to her ear. “Every single drop.” My cock strains in my boxers, wanting so badly to sink inside. Take her. Fuck her brains out. But I know better. Patience is key. “Then,” I breathe against the shell of her ear, “I’m going to fuck you. Leave you sore all day, begging for more later.” She wriggles some more, lips parting, panting. Her chest sinks and rises as I circle her clit with my thumb, using two fingers to thrust inside her. She’s getting closer. I can tell by the way she cups her breasts and sucks on that plump bottom lip. I take that lip between my teeth, grazing it. Her climax is near. Moaning, her back arches, but I yank my hand away, snatch my boxers off, flip her over, and thrust deep into that perfect pussy from behind. “Oh, fuck!” she cries. “So wet for me, Red,” I breathe, straightening my back. Wrapping her hair in my hand, I tug her head

back, needing to see her stunning face. The faces she makes when I’m slaying her are indescribable. It makes me want to keep going, but brings me right to the edge. This woman makes me bust loads. She makes me cum like never before. Even after two amazing kids, her pussy is glorious. “Tell me how you want it,” I demand. “Hard,” she breathes. “Ask me nicely.” “Hard, please.” I spank her ass with my free hand, and she yelps. Holding her hip, I release her hair and push her down, arching her back so nothing but her round ass is up in the air. I pull my cock out, enjoying the view. I examine the pink slit between her legs as she pants, body begging, legs quaking with need. Cupping her ass and spreading her cheeks, I bend down and eat her from behind. Caught off guard, she tries to pull away, gain composure, but I hold her still, flattening my tongue and running it from her entrance to her clit. I run it back up to her puckered entrance, and her body locks up. I smirk. I had my fun with that back entrance last night. Her moans fill the room, wet and heavy. I keep one hand positioned on her hips and bring the other down to stroke my cock. I could cum like this, watching her squirm in pleasure as the sweet taste of her showers my tongue. Watching her glorious body beg for release. But I won’t. I pull away, digging through her nightstand for my treasures. Pulling out the pearl handcuffs I had specially made for us, I flip her onto her back and cuff her wrists in front of her. Lifting her hands above her head and bringing my cock to her entrance, I murmur, “Keep them there,” as I ease my way inside. Her walls are soaked, showing no resistance. Her tight, sensitive flesh surrounds my cock, throbbing. She breathes my name. “Goddamn,

Red.” My voice is husky, causing her to move her hands. I place them back in the spot they belong. “Your pussy never fails me, baby. It’s always ready. But I need you to keep your hands there.” Completely ignoring me, she picks her head up off the bed, sits forward, and binds her arms around my neck from the gap between. Our lips connect. She’s in need. She’s tired of the teasing. Tired of the games. She needs a good fuck, and since she disobeyed, that’s exactly what she’s gonna get. Picking her legs up, I throw them around my waist and pound into her pussy, my fingers threading through her hair, cock pulsing with each stroke. “Ace,” she breathes. “Oh, yes.” Pleasure. I crush her lips for a split second before removing her arms from around me and sitting up straight, spreading her legs wide apart, and revealing the perfect V. Bringing her legs upright, I fasten my hands around her ankles like they’re an extra pair of handcuffs, and I don’t stop. My hips work hard, cock drilling, conjuring cries and moans from my naughty wife. Her back arches as she claws at the satin sheets. I place her leg on my shoulder and release one hand, applying pressure and rubbing her swollen nub in torturous loops. “Who do you belong to, Red?” “You,” she struggles to say. She’s close. Body bucking, breathing heavy. Wild. I’m so fucking close. My cock is bulging, body flexing and tensing. My eyes hold hers, smoldering. “Only mine.” “Only… yours.” The words break apart, and in a few short seconds, her back arches even more. She stills, and I slam through, bringing her to complete, euphoric ecstasy. Warmth runs over my thickness. My hands land outside her head, and I release, still stroking. Jolting. London shudders from the aftermath, her body dying down, back leveling. When she comes to, she breathes hard, looking me in the eyes. Unable to help

myself, I smile down at her, catching my breath. “Will we ever be able to get enough of each other?” she asks, winded. I let out a hoarse laugh, pulling out and laying beside her. “Red, we’ll never be able to get enough of each other. Even when I turn seventy and have saggyass balls and wrinkles all over my dick, I still won’t feel like I’ve had enough.” I stroke her cheek, watching as a childlike smile appears on her lips. “Good. You better not,” she playfully scolds. Silence cascades the room, but it isn’t awkward. Our eyes never drift from one another ’s. The sun is higher in the sky, making her hazel irises sparkle. Flecks of amber and green pop out. She strokes my face, and I raise my hand to hers. She scoots forward, pleased. Wrapping her in my arms, I say softly, “Love you, London.” And she looks up, hugging me tight and murmuring, “I love you too, Ace.” *** I can say I’m satisfied with life. Actually, I’m more than satisfied. I’ve never been at peace with myself like this before. Life has a funny way of showing you things. For a while, I was sure I’d remain fucked up in the head. Bitter and lonely. I thought, surely, I was doomed in the end. Not many knew, but there were times when I pictured myself growing old, ending up like the grumpy old people in nursing homes that get no visitors or, worse, my father. I refused to be like him, yet I’d turned into a spitting image of him the deeper I got into the business. If I hadn’t met London, I would still be troubled. Shit, I’d probably be dead. Even with all the riches and power, I was still rotten inside. Spoiled. No good. I wasn’t happy. Someone needed to get rid of the darkness and clutter. That someone was her. But I’m here. Home, in Costa Rica. The kids love it. London adores it. My kids are my world, and I don’t believe it, but Aden calls me “Dad”

now. I didn’t mind being called Ace, but Dad sounds so much better coming out of his mouth when directed at me. The thought of losing him terrified me. He was everything and more to me and I’d just gotten to know him. Our bond was immediate. Our connection strong. I love that boy more than life itself. Luckily he doesn’t remember much. We made sure to take many trips in hopes that it would get off his mind. And my daughter. Little Melanie, who looks just like her mother, carries her attitude, sass, and everything. She’s my angel. My beautiful china doll. If anything ever happens to her, shit will surely get ugly. With Aden, I’m still protective, but I allow him to be strong. When he falls, I tell him to brush that shit off and keep it moving. No tears unless it’s an unbearable pain. But with Melanie, even if she slips, says “Whoospies”, giggles, and gets back up, I go into full-blown daddy mode. I check her everywhere, hoping she isn’t bruised or hurt. I hold her in my arms until I see she’s safe. She has a smart mouth like her mother, and she can be just as tough. She doesn’t get hurt easily. Melanie will tell me to calm down as she tries to wriggle out of my arms, and I laugh. It’s just love. Unconditional, pure love for both of them. When she’s not busy, Bianca visits often, but even when she laughs and plays around with her niece and nephew, I see the pain in her eyes that will never disappear. Just like I see it in London’s eyes. There are days when I spot London spending time alone on the hammock hanging from the Ceiba tree behind our house. She stares out towards the ocean, the water rippling from the salt-water pool in front of her. I’m sure she thinks about her family, what she’d be like, and how her life would’ve turned out if they were still alive. I know she wants grandparents for her children. An uncle. She wonders if Jonah would have chosen a different path if her parents had never passed away.

Some nights, when everyone is in bed, I wake up and realize her side of the bed is empty, and when I pass by the kitchen and look out the balcony window, I’ll catch her curled up with a blanket, crying on the lounge chairs by the pool or that favorite hammock of hers. I don’t blame her, and as badly as I want to go out and comfort her every time, I don’t. Everyone needs alone time every once in a while. There are moments when I should cry, but the tears just won’t fall. I’ve lost many. I’ve lost a lot because of the life I lived. I know everything has changed—that I’m now a free man. I can be a good man. I can do that for my family. But I have to admit, I miss it. My men. My brothers. The power. It’s in my blood. It’s a part of being a Crow. You long for power, to be on top. I have a lot of blood on my hands, but most of it has been washed away. But because of that hunger for power, I started my own company when we got settled here. After my final task of blowing up Maurice’s boats and hiring a hit man to take out the rest of his men (no loose ends, right?), I found his stash at an old warehouse and kept it for myself. With that money, I started L.A.M. Towers, Inc. L for London, A for Aden, and M for Melanie. I couldn’t use my name, and I made sure not to show my face on websites. There are still people out there, people that hate me, like the persistent Agent Wales who can’t even get close. It’s a company that aids troubled teenage boys. Lost boys. Boys that have harmed people they love or those that have lost people they care about. Boys with PTSD. I even created a sister company for the young girls that have no roof over their heads. The young pregnant girls that need a little assistance. Costa Rica needs a helping hand. I’m helping, but I’m still on top. I run the show. I bring people in. I recruit most of them. In a way, I own them, but I won’t tell anyone I see it that way.

Those people look up to me, Donovan Ace Crow. They see a good man, but if they knew my past, they would be terrified. Bianca helps the girls. She knows how it feels to be without parents. I feel terrible for her. I’ve wanted nothing but the best for my family, but being a Crow has its consequences. Most times, we can’t even control it. We were born into this. We’re offspring of cruel, selfish men. Bianca has seen a lot. She’s been through more than anyone I know, but she still keeps her head held high and runs her clothing line like a true boss. After her “loss”, she got more respect for going right back into work. Aspiring women admire her. Men drool over her. She’s sitting on a throne with a shiny-ass crown on top of her head, but of course she doesn’t see it that way. The Crow blood helps in that way. We brush shit off and keep it moving. She takes no shit. She doesn’t get bamboozled or tricked into foolish contracts. She runs her own show. She owns her success. Although her heart was shattered to pieces, I can only hope that she finds love. She, of all the people I know, deserves it. It won’t be easy, but when that man comes, he better be ready to mend her brokenness. Trent. He’s still loyal as hell. He’s a private pilot. He flies jets for some of the wealthiest men in the world. He comes to Costa Rica whenever he needs an escape. His wife is a good woman, but she’s a nagger. I know how he feels. London has her moments where she never lets up. Shit, that’s marriage. Not everything is roses and unicorns. There are nights when Trent and I get drunk as fuck and reminisce. We tell stories we remember of everyone in the crew. It’s almost like I’m reliving the moments when I talk with him. He’s become my best friend. I’m glad I can trust him. He’s always had my back. He’s never let me down. He feels as if he owes me his life, but the truth is, I owe him mine. He didn’t have to come forward and assist me. He could’ve left me for dead, but out of the goodness of his heart, he

chose to help me. That’s loyalty. I know I will always be able to depend on him. See, we all have some goodness somewhere, and we all have demons. When you first meet us, it may not show on the surface, and we may not wear our hearts on our sleeves, but when you get to know us for who we are, you’ll see it. You’ll feel it. This is my family now, and I wouldn’t trade this shit for the world. After everything I’ve gone through, I can finally smile. I feel like all those burdens have been tossed away. No weights are on my shoulders. For the first time in my life, I can truly say I’m free. I’m alive. I’m back. I’m Ace fucking Crow. A new man. A man who was once a monster but was brought into light by a great lover, a wonderful mother, and an incredible wife. I may be a little more sensitive now, but fuck with me or my family the wrong way, and the old Ace will return and handle his shit, no questions asked. No hesitation. Yeah, he’s still in there, tucked neatly in a safe place, and when he needs to be unleashed to protect, please believe he’ll come out within the blink of an eye. Be sure to remember that saying—the one everyone can’t seem to forget:



BEWARE OF ACE CROW …Because he’s still there. And he will always be ready.



Just to let you all know there WILL be a spin-off novel for Bianca Crow titled BIANCA. I have no official release date for it just yet but keep up with me by following my contact info on the following pages for updates! I’m so excited to write and share her story. She is an amazing character. I can’t wait to get inside her head. Also, if you can, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review of BEWARE 2! I would really, really appreciate it. Shanora





I honestly don’t even know where to start. BEWARE 2 took a lot of time and a lot of effort to finally finish. I mean, I started writing it in August of 2014 and I didn’t tell anyone about it until months later because I was afraid it wouldn’t turn out the way I wanted it to. I was afraid of the follow-up being bad or not “living up” to book 1. But I can’t believe what I wrote for B2. It turned out ten times better than I ever expected. So I finally I gave the hint to my readers and the wonderful reaction and responses I received… I was speechless. I couldn’t believe how many people actually wanted more from me. I’m so humbled and blessed to have so many people support and believe me. So this time, I’m thanking my fans FIRST because you guys rock my fucking world! You are always behind me, pushing and motivating me to get these characters out there and I can’t thank you enough! My wonderful Juanito for being super dad while I finished up on Ace and London’s story. Thank you for being patient with both me and our baby. I love you! Stina! You know why I thank you each and every time. Not only are you a friend, but a great supporter and someone that has believed in me from day one. You are a wonderful person and I’m so glad I met you. Heather and Selene! You ladies rock my world. I love the feedback, the honesty – all of it! I wish I could hug you two in person so hard but the time will come when we meet. You believe in me and I’m so grateful to have run into you and your blog. The Housewives know what it’s about! To the Sweethearts! Y’all are so sweet! Seriously, thank you for being there for me. Dealing with my

crazy random teasers and pic edits. LOL. Erinn Giblin for being the best editor ever! Thank you for the lovely feedback, for your patience – everything! I’m so glad you enjoyed Ace. You made me truly believe in this story and what it would bring to readers. And Aden… ahh! The love we have for our kids! Najla for being the wonderful cover artist for my man Ace Crow. Nadège Richards and Amanda Heath for formatting the hell out of these books for people to drool and love on the pages – mainly me. LOL. You guys truly bring my words to life. Ena Burnette for always running the most amazing blog tours! You’re a wonderful host and a beautiful woman, inside and out. For anyone that has supported me through this journey. I know I haven’t been around much ever since I had my little one but I appreciate every kind email, every sweet comment, and every single review. I don’t just love you guys, I FLOVE you guys!

CONTACT SHANORA I love chatting with my readers and fans. If there’s anything you’d like to talk to me about please feel free to email me at [email protected] Also, feel free to follow me on these social networks to keep up with what I’m working on next, info on the characters, and even teasers! Facebook: facebook.com/shanorawilliamsauthor Twitter: twitter.com/shanorawilliams Instagram: @reallyshanora Website: www.authorshanorawilliams.com Also, to be the first to receive personal updates from me, exclusive teasers, and to be apart of upcoming giveaways, join my mailing list today. Keeping Up With Shanora Williams