Ace (Men of Rapture #2) Page 2

  The third text comes from Rush himself. Get ur ass here now or we’re coming to you!

  Shit. Fine. Gimme 10.

  I got all day

  I huff as I put away my tools, knowing I can’t put up a front with Rush and Niko. God knows those two will see right through me, and I’ll have to relive the whole sordid affair. They’ll make fun of me for pining over a woman I barely know, and then I’ll want to drown myself in alcohol. It’s a vicious cycle, and one I’m none too eager to get sucked into. That’s why I’ve avoided them before now, even knowing Rush has his own explaining to do.

  The cool of the late January afternoon penetrates my skin as I hurry to my truck. Like a dumbass, I leave my coat behind in favor of just pulling a flannel over my tee. The chill in my bones says I made a mistake, and I remind myself right then not to do it again. The ride is short, and before I know it, I’m already parked and crossing the street toward Skunk.

  The giant, muscular man who’s almost always manning the door at Rapture is talking to another man, a much smaller and, dare I say, decidedly feminine one. The two men are laughing and touching, and well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were flirting. I trip as I step onto the sidewalk, which catches Skunk’s attention.

  “Ace.” He smiles as he thumbs over his shoulder, ushering me on past. “The boss is waiting for you.”

  “Sure thing.” I clap his shoulder on the way by. “Thanks.”

  I find Niko behind the bar, serving a couple of broads toward the other end, while Rush is on a stool closer to this end. Rush looks different today. The man I’m accustomed to seeing wears jeans, tees, hoodies, and is usually high. This man today—his eyes are bright and clear, and he’s decked out in a crisp black suit with a pale blue tie.

  Sighing, I take the stool beside him. “What’s up, man? Long time, no see.”

  “I could say the same.” Rush cuts his eyes my way. “I’ve been here twice already, and you’ve been a no-show both fucking times.”

  “Do you kiss Alyssa with that dirty mouth?” I lift a smartass brow. “What’s up with that, anyway?”

  Niko pops over just then, sliding a beer my way and leaning on his elbows. “Oh, man, you’ve missed a lot. Our boy here went from barwhore to celibate in a matter of weeks.”

  “I’m not fucking celibate,” Rush grouses, smirking. “I’m monogamous. You should try it.”

  “Oh, I want to,” I mumble into my glass of beer.

  “What’s that?” Niko asks, grabbing his ear.

  “Nothing.” I’m shitty company when it comes to this subject, so I turn to Rush, hoping he can help pull me out of my funk. “Tell me about it.”

  “It?” He tilts his head.

  “Her. Alyssa,” I clarify before killing off my beer and slamming down my mug. “How did all that happen with me none the wiser?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he says, snapping his fingers before wagging one my way. “You’ve met her.” He shrugs, a self-satisfied smile creeping up his lips. “Then you already know. She’s fucking amazing.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” I hedge, needing more. A lot of girls are amazing. “But what made you decide she was worth giving up all the other girls for?”

  “Giving up?” He snorts, and it’s not the usual jovial one. It’s more derisive. “There was nothing to give up. None of them meant anything to me. Not one single encounter before her mattered. They were an escape from a hell hole of my own making. Alyssa …” He pauses, shaking his head. “She fucking saw me, and it might’ve been the first time that’s happened in years.”

  By the time he’s done with the philosophical bullshit, my brows are high on my forehead. “I’m not following.”

  “I imagine.” Rush chuckles, brushing a hand through his neatly trimmed hair. “I’m different than you are, Ace. More fucked up, so you’re looking at the wrong person if you need guidance when it comes to a woman.”

  “Nah,” I say, waving him off. “I was just curious.”

  “Bullshit,” Niko coughs into his fist.

  Rush grabs a hand towel and tosses it at him. “Go wash your fucking hands. We don’t want your goddamn germs.” He then cuts his sharp blue eyes my way. “I agree, though. Bullshit. What the fuck’s going on?”

  I huff like a kindergartener who doesn’t want to take a nap. “I’m just sick of the one-night stands.” I turn away from his glare, focusing on the sweat running down the side of my mug. “I thought maybe I was going to rekindle an old flame, and it didn’t work out.”

  “That the chick from last month?” Niko chimes in as he returns from washing his hands. “The redhead? The same day Alyssa was here?”

  I glare at him. Damn him for remembering every single hookup ever. “Yeah, her.” I take a long gulp of beer. “She fucked and ducked.”

  The chorus of laughter that follows makes me want to smash my mug upside one of their heads. Jackasses. Instead, I down the rest of the beer and slide the glass across to Niko with a little more force than necessary.

  “Hardy, har.” I’m scowling, unable to laugh at myself right now. “Get me another beer.” I look to Rush then, tugging on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Fuck women. Tell me about this.”

  “Wait just a minute,” he says, reaching inside his jacket and coming back out with a small navy blue velvet box. “We can’t be done with women just yet. I have something I’d like to share with you fucks.” He opens the lid and sits the delicate box on the bar top. “What do ya think?”

  My heart starts hammering inside my chest as an irrational anger bubbles like acid in my gut. The most screwed up of the three of us has somehow gotten to a place in his life where he’s ready to propose to a woman. Six months ago, he was fucking everything with legs.

  “Holy shit,” Niko says, leaning in for a closer look. “I bet that sucker set you back a shiny nickel.”

  Rush shrugs. “She’s worth a million times that.”

  “Jesus Christ.” I palm my forehead, dizzy with jealousy. “Don’t you think it might be too soon? You’ve known her what, three months?”

  “Almost six.” Rush looks at me through narrowed eyes. “And I’d say I’m running fucking late.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Dead. Fucking. Serious,” he says through clenched teeth. “Look, asshole, I come here for my friends to help build my confidence, not for motherfuckers to drag me down.”

  “Congrats, man!” Niko slides two shots across the bar, his eyes daring me to not pick mine up and act happy. “To Rush,” he says, holding up his shot. “Alyssa’s one hot chick, and I can’t wait to meet the cute little babies you’ll produce.”

  Rush chuckles, rolling his eyes. “That might be laying it on a little too fucking thick.”

  I slam back my shot and clap him on the back. “Yeah, Rush. Congratulations.” I pull him over for a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry I was being a shit friend. I’m actually a little jealous.”

  “Don’t be,” Rush says, returning my hug, only to choke the shit out of me with his thick-ass arm. “It’ll happen.”

  “So tell us about the redhead,” Niko urges, leaning against the bar. “You’ve only seen her the one time?”

  “Lately,” I respond, palming the back of my neck. “She moved away when we were young, but she’s supposed to be moving back.”

  Rush snags the ring box and deposits it back into his inside jacket pocket with a sigh. “If it’s meant to be, it will.”

  I reach over and feel his forehead with the back of my hand. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Rush?”

  Loud giggles interrupt us, and a woman who’s popped up on the other side of Rush touches his arm. “Care to buy a girl a drink?” She’s batting her lashes and licking her lips, and she’s tempting.

  Rush smiles like I’ve seen a thousand times before and places his hand over hers. Only this time, his smile turns cold as his fingers grip hers firmly. “Please don’t fucking touch me,” he says, lifting them up and off his arm before
placing them on the bar in front of her. “Take your simpering ass back down to the other end of the bar and never approach me again.” He pauses and looks beyond her to the group of women who’re watching from afar. “Spread the fucking word. I’m off the market.”

  The woman’s lip starts quivering, and Niko rushes to try to smooth over the situation, shooting Rush a death glare as he does so. I snort into my beer. This makes me proud of Rush. I can honestly say he rejects women just as fervently as he used to chase them, and I call that a win. Alyssa must really be something special.

  “So tell me about the suit,” I say, angling toward him. “How do you spend your days now that you’re no longer here all the time?”

  “I went home,” he says with a shrug. “I am a Kaplan after all.”

  “Yeah, bu—”

  “I know,” he interrupts, holding up a palm, “but hear me out.”

  What follows is a long and twisted tale of a rich kid living a cushy life, only to have it all go to shit when his college girlfriend, fiancée even, kills herself. I can imagine what that would do to someone, and it totally explains the rough-around-the-edges Rush I met four years ago. By the time he’s done, I’m even more grateful to Alyssa. She practically saved him, while I never even bothered to learn why he acted the way he did.

  “Wow.” I take a long gulp of my beer, stunned. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Nothing. I’m the only one who could fix me.” Rush whistles, catching Niko’s eye and holding up his empty mug. “I didn’t exactly take the position my father would’ve liked,” he hedges, continuing his story. “I went back on my terms.”

  “Nice.” I smirk. “So I take it you still got a fancy corner office on the twentieth floor with an amazing view.”

  “I do.” He barks a laugh. “But my first Kaplan project, The KAT Center, has its grand opening in two weeks.”

  I lift a brow. “Uh, didn’t you just call your ex Kat?”

  “Very astute,” he says, nodding. “It’s actually The Katherine Austin Therapy Center, KAT for short. If depression can take someone that vibrant, who had the smarts to get into Yale on scholarship, can you imagine how much worse it is for people with less opportunity? I took the Kaplan model and applied it to helping a larger swath of people. Instead of scholarships or grants or hospital wings, I’ve created a nonprofit means to get people the help they need.”

  “Nice,” I comment, bobbing my head. “Is it around here? I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  “Yeah, dipshit.” He takes a swig of his fresh beer. “It’s over on Maple. We remodeled the old community center.”

  “Right.” I snap my fingers. “I saw some construction going on a while back.”

  “We start seeing patients in two weeks.”

  “Damn, man, it’s like you’ve turned into this … this paragon of good,” I snark, knowing there’s no way the Rush I know has gone completely to the bright side.

  He licks his lips, his eyes cutting to the door. “In some ways, but in others …” He trails off, standing.

  My eyes follow as he struts across the room and takes Alyssa in his arms, giving her a way too inappropriate kiss. She looks different today than when I met her. Her dark hair is piled on her head with one of those sticks holding it in place, and she’s wearing pale blue scrubs—like Rush’s tie—with little black puppy paw prints and white sneakers. She has some black shit around her eyes, but other than that, her face is makeup free.

  She’s beautiful, in that vet-next-door sort of way. I chuckle, cracking myself up, as Rush loops an arm around her waist and leads her over. They really do look like the perfect couple. A good fit in every way.

  Not ready to witness their love firsthand, I stand and say my goodbyes, discreetly giving Rush the thumbs up. He’s found himself a winner, and the sooner he proposes to her, the better. Seeing them together makes me resolved to find Rowan and settle this once and for all.

  I’m ready for our second chance.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Who I Am

  “Pull that radiator and get started on the alternator, compressor, and brackets,” I say, pointing to an ’85 Monte Carlo. “I’ll put Gabe to work stripping the interior.”

  “Will do, boss,” Lee replies, the kid eager to do whatever task I assign. “Are ya gonna let me change out the pump myself?”

  “Let’s see how good you do on the other stuff first.”

  I remember being young and excited like that, ready to get my hands greasy and put an old hunk of metal to running, but my Pop was a consummate professional. He made sure I knew what I was doing before he set me to any task. Back then, learning was what I lived for. I started slipping through the hedge between my house and the shop when I was only six years old, and every day, I’d stay as long as I could. By the time I was nineteen, I could do practically any job here.

  Carmichael Customs is my Pop’s dream come to life, and even though it hurts to run it without him around for guidance, I’m proud I can uphold the standards he created so many years ago. We take scrap cars and turn them into people’s dream rides. From chrome to motor to paint to rims to bodywork—we do it all, a complete customization to fit anyone’s whim.

  “Aw, man. You know I can do it,” Lee whines, bringing me from my musings. “A water pump is easy.”

  “Sure is.” I bob my head, agreeing with his statement. “But making sure you learn the right way is more important. Now, get to work, and if you do a good job, I’ll let Jason oversee you on the pump.”

  Lee’s smile is wide and toothy. “Thanks, boss.”

  He heads toward the tool box on the far wall, and I chuckle at his retreating back. The kid’s got spunk, that’s for sure. But then I remember, he isn’t really a kid at all. At his age, I was months shy from inheriting this shop. By the time I did, there were jobs of all different levels of progress sitting around, waiting to be finished. Luckily, I had a couple guys who’d worked for my dad to help me until I gained my legs in the business. They’re both still here now, Gabe and Jason, and I couldn’t continue to grow this business without them.

  The smell of grease and gasoline comforts me as I return to work on the ’57 Chevy. Yeah, I’m still not done with it. As each new project winds down, I add another to the mix, not ready to let go and call it finished. Ten fucking years I’ve been on this truck, and the idea of it being done scares the shit out of me.

  “Ace,” Meredith, my secretary, yells from the doorway of her office, “your mom called. She said she has lunch ready and would like for you to join her.”

  “Ohhh, the boss is in trouble,” Lee jokes, snickering.

  “You wish, kid.” I snap him with a shop towel as I pass. “I’m a lucky fucker. If you are, she’ll be sending something back for you guys, too.”

  “Tell her I said hi.” Gabe lifts his salt and pepper covered head from inside the Monte Carlo. “And that I’ll stop by and fix that hinge as soon as I can get out of here at a decent hour.”

  “Pfft,” I tsk, shaking my head. “Don’t try to blame me for your lateness. I’ll tell her you said you don’t have time, and I’ll fix it while I’m there.”

  “She won’t believe you or let you touch it.” He smirks. “A car? Hell, yes. A door hinge? No fucking way.”

  I chuckle, flipping him the bird as I head out the back door of the shop. Out here is a madhouse of spare parts and pieces of cars that might one day become Carmichael Customs builds, but right now, it’s just a graveyard of metal and iron, albeit somewhat organized. I wind my way through the clutter and to the tightly packed row of Leyland cypress Ma planted when I was four. They’re about thirty feet tall now and densely packed, but my path is still there, between the fourth and fifth trees from the left. I smile as I duck into the niche and push my way through the branches to step out into my childhood back yard. It makes me feel ten again for a brief few seconds, but the emptiness where my pop once was reminds me all too quickly that I’m not.

  “Ma,” I call, wiping m
y feet as I enter.

  “In here,” she replies. “The dining room.”

  I follow the smell of fried chicken and find her already seated at the table with a full meal spread before her. Uh-oh. Something’s up. A picnic basket sits on the far end, and a platter of chicken, a bowl of mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and a boat of gravy are all sitting next to a wicker basket of homemade biscuits.

  I kiss her cheek before I take the seat where she’s already set me a spot. “Smells good, Ma.”

  Her grayish white hair is pulled into a tight bun on top of her head, and her blue eyes are sharp as she watches me. “Thank you, baby. Only the best for my son and his hardworking crew.”

  “Okay, what’s going on?” I ask, lifting a brow. “Don’t get me wrong, my mouth is watering, but this is a special occasion kind of meal.”

  “Poo.” She waves a hand and then snags a chicken leg, dropping it to her plate before lifting the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Can’t a mother look after her son?”

  I watch her through narrowed eyes for a few minutes as she continues filling her plate before finally giving up and joining her. We eat silently for a bit. The only sounds are silverware clinking against plates, fingers being licked, and hums of approval. She hasn’t cooked a meal like this since Christmas, so I know she’s up to something. I’m just enjoying the food while I wait her out.

  It doesn’t take too much longer before she puts down her fork, produces a pamphlet that was sitting on her lap, and slides it toward me on the table. I’m both curious and hesitant. The last time Ma went to this much effort to soften me up for something was … never. This must be pretty big and important to her.

  I hold it in my hand for a moment before casting my eyes down. My brows furrow. “A retirement home?” I say, pinning her with an incredulous stare. “For who?”

  “Don’t be obtuse, son,” she snarks, adding an eye-roll for full effect.

  I stand, tossing the pamphlet onto the table without even opening it. “No.”