Ace in the Hole (City Meets Country Book 4) Read online

“Damn right you will. And don’t expect to see me back here any time soon. Let’s go, Dick.”

  Dick, the tall man, threw two twenties on the counter. “Your place is disgusting,” he said, “and the music sucks, too. Next time, we’re going to Trash Bar.”

  Sailor waited for them to leave, then gave Pippi a pointed look. Pippi swept the money into the cash drawer. She had closed a button on her blouse in the meantime.

  Sailor looked at Axl. He was pouring club soda into his shot glass. “Were you ready to step in if they got serious?”

  Axl shrugged. “You had it handled.”

  “Right. Well, just so you know, I’ve hired a head of security starting later next week. He’ll be your direct report.”

  Axl shrugged again. “It’s your money, Sailor.”

  There was only a second in which Pippi’s mouth formed an O at something over Sailor’s shoulder, and raw shouts came at her in a wave, followed by a crash of bodies into her flank. The tray tumbled and the half-spilled beer became fully spilled, and Sailor struck hard into the side of the bar. Pain shot through her waist as she slid sideways, grabbed a stool to avoid a full tumble. As she came upright and her mind turned to the mess she was about to mop, in her peripheral vision she spotted one of the biker women lurching in her direction. The fist knocked the sight out of her left eye, she tumbled backwards, and one of her shoes fell off. Pain and blood followed.

  “Look what you did,” said the other biker woman. “I’m twice her size and you still missed me and hit her instead.” Her punch connected with her opponent, and the two women scuffled. Over by the jukebox, the male bikers cheered. This same group were the only bikers who'd ever caused trouble in her bar. Most of them were pretty decent people.

  Sailor pulled herself up as best she could as hot blood trickled past her stunned eye and her twisted ankle pulsed with pain. She took stock of the situation. Axl was talking on his phone, one finger jammed in his ear to block out the noise that he should have prevented in the first place. Pieter the musician and Pippi the bartender were trying to wrestle the scrapping bikers away from each other.

  “Cops are coming,” Axl told her. “Hey, you should probably wash your face.”

  Pieter’s guitar roared. One of the bikers had taken advantage of the distraction to hook it up.

  “Hey!” the musician shouted. He was still entangled with the biker chick. “Axl, come on, man. Help me out.”

  Axl looked over his shoulder. “Hey, dude, put the guitar down,” he called.

  Sailor reached over the bar for a towel and a handful of ice, wrapped the ice in the towel, and retreated to the bathroom.

  Seated in a stall, she held the makeshift compress against her face and wept salty, bloody tears. Sobbed till her throat was raw.

  The sound of walkie-talkies outside announced the arrival of the police. Sailor took deep breaths, wiped her face free of wet, flexed her ankle, and force-marched herself back into the barroom to talk about pressing charges.

  She couldn’t go on like this, and she didn’t want to fail. Ace Montgomery had better be worth the money.

  Chapter Three

  New York City could be summed up in three words – traffic, concrete, and stink. Ace had been too busy navigating the traffic snarls to fully appreciate the view as he crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. But he did think the lights on the horizon reflecting off the East River and the smattering of stars coming to life in the denim blue sky were rather pretty. When he wasn’t choking on exhaust fumes, that is. Or breathing in the foul odor that reminded him of an outhouse in August, interspersed with hints of fried things and spices he couldn’t name. He only took a couple wrong turns, but the GPS finally guided him right up to the townhouse where his cousin Harper and his new boss lived. Turning off the engine, he engaged the kickstand.

  A woman came out of the townhouse just then. She had blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, a tailored blue dress fit for the red carpet, and heels to match. She closed the door, seemingly distracted with some pieces of mail, and started down the steps. Ace took off his helmet as she looked up and froze in her tracks. Her eyes grew wide when they locked on his.

  He pulled out a piece of Wrigley’s from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth with a grin, hoping it would kill the city stink he still tasted. “Miss Kingston, I presume?”

  “Y-yes. You’re Mr. Montgomery?”

  “Ace.”

  “Right. Ace.” A flush climbed up her slender neck and tinted her cheeks a shade darker than her blush. Was she scared of him or just surprised? “I didn’t expect you here quite so soon.”

  “Well, I took it you were in dire straits with the bar. I don’t have anything keeping me in Kentucky right now, so I headed on out yesterday after the interview.” He noticed a butterfly bandage at the edge of one of her eyes and the slightly swollen bluish-green of a big ol’ shiner that makeup hadn’t camouflaged well. Either she had an asshole boyfriend, or that bar of hers was a whole lot worse than he’d thought. Even with a black eye, Sailor Kingston in person was the hottest thing he’d seen since Andy Capp’s Hot Fries. But he had to keep it professional. He was there to work, not chase skirts. He thought it wise, however, not to mention her battle wound just yet.

  She quickly regained her stony, all-business expression like the one he’d seen on Skype. “Oh, I see. I was just heading to work now. You’re welcome to accompany me. But if you’d like to unpack your things and carry them up first, I can wait.”

  “I can do that.” Ace got off his motorcycle and unhooked his bags. “Hope you don’t mind me staying with Harper for a little while until I find a place of my own.”

  “Not at all. Please come inside.”

  She turned and unlocked the door, and he followed, carrying a bag under each arm. He stepped into one of the fanciest homes he’d ever seen. A high-ceilinged, open foyer stretched to the top of the building, revealing a spiraling staircase that probably led to other apartments.

  “Harper lives on the second floor. She’s home, I think, so you can go on up.” Sailor pointed to a closed door to one side of the stairs with a brass ‘1’ on it. “This is my apartment. I’ll wait inside, so just come down and knock when you’re settled in.”

  “Okay.”

  Ace climbed the stairs and reached another door with a brass ‘2’. He transferred one bag to the other arm, where now he held two, and knocked. There were footsteps, then a sliding sound, a slightly magnified eye through the peephole, and then a squeal.

  He smiled, waiting for the inevitable, and managed to set his bags down and ready himself before Harper threw open the door and tackled him. Her arms went around his neck in a choking hug. He stumbled back from the impact but laughed and hugged her back.

  She finally let him go and stood there holding him at arm’s length. “It’s so good to see you, cuz! I’m glad you got here in one piece. You made good time!”

  “I did. How you doing, Harper?”

  “Great! Come on in.” She bounded into the apartment, straight into a spacious living area, and grinned back at him over her shoulder. “The sleeper sofa is real comfy. I’ve tried it out.”

  A man who was seated in one of the armchairs stood and approached. Ace suspected she’d tried out that sofa with this Hispanic-looking fellow. Hopefully there were clean sheets.

  “This is Gabriel Castillo,” Harper said.

  Gabriel extended his hand, and Ace gave it the firm southern Kentucky shake common to Baptist preachers and happy farmers, to which the man’s eyes widened. Then he flashed a brilliant, white smile. “It’s good to meet you. Harper’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Nothing too bad, I hope.”

  “Not at all. I’m glad she’ll have a big guy like you on watch for a while. I have to travel to a zoo in Tampa to arrange an adoption.”

  Ace lifted an eyebrow. “You two adopting a kid? You might want to try an adoption agency instead, or you’ll come home with a baboon.”

/>   Harper laughed. “No, a new sea lion for the Aquarium. One of the older ones needs to retire from performing, so Gabe’s looking for a younger one to take his place.”

  “Gotcha. Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but my new boss lady said I could accompany her to the bar so I can see the mess I’ll have to clean up.”

  Harper and Gabriel shared a grim look. “Good luck in there, cuz,” Harper said. “Sailor’s in over her head with that place. I told her you’d be like Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse, but I hope it’s not too bad for you.”

  Her forehead wrinkled as she pressed her lips together with a worried frown. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it, too. If it got ‘too bad,’ that could stir up a head full of angry memories that he sure as hell didn’t need to aggravate. But playing it safe didn’t fit his occupation, and it certainly wouldn’t fit with an out-of-control bar. Rowdy drunks needed rough handling, not kid gloves.

  “It’ll be fine. Listen, I’ll hit your restroom and then get out of here if you can point the way for me,” he said.

  Harper pointed to a door off the living area. “Right through there.”

  Ace headed to the bathroom, did his business, and washed his hands. He splashed his face with some cold water to quell the nervous tension pulling at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

  “Could I get you a drink or something?” Harper offered when he came back out.

  “No, I better get going. Nice to meet you, Gabriel.” He gave Harper a one-armed hug around her neck and kissed the top of her head, adding in a little noogie to her scalp with his knuckles. She squealed and slapped at him as he retreated. It sure felt good to aggravate his little cousin again.

  ****

  Five minutes later, he was walking alongside Miss Kingston, headed for The Hole. She pointed things out along the way, like the corner market and a good pizza joint. The farther they went, however, the quieter she became. Her features drew together, making her look ten years older than she was. This place really was draining her from the inside out, and that was a real pity for a woman this gorgeous.

  Ace broke the silence. “Mind if I ask you something?”

  She glanced up at him, then answered, “Go ahead.”

  “Well, I was wondering why you even want to run a bar. Because quite frankly, ma’am, you don’t look like the bar runnin’ type.”

  Her lips pursed as one well-plucked eyebrow lifted. “Oh? And what does a bar running type look like?”

  “Not you. At least where I come from. Maybe New York is different, but ladies like you tend to stay away from the kind of bars I visit.”

  Her frown sank deeper. “As I said over Skype, it’s an upscale bar, not intended for people like…” Her voice trailed off into a shrug.

  Ace smiled. “Like me?”

  “I meant people who want to fight and cause trouble all the time.”

  “Is that where you got that shiner? From the troublemakers at the bar?”

  She nodded.

  “Then why not sell it?”

  “Because I want something of my own, I guess. See, my father earned a lot of money on Wall Street and bought up a bunch of properties all over the city, including my townhouse and what’s now The Hole. He and my mom died in a plane crash a few years ago, leaving me with most of their assets.”

  “Sorry to hear that. The part about the crash, I mean.”

  Another shrug accompanied a tired sigh. “One would think being the beneficiary of their will would be a blessing, but it’s really been more of a curse. Dad owed all kinds of back taxes and other debts I never knew about, so I’ve sold most of the assets and invested what I could in The Hole. I wanted to own a business I could be proud of, you know? But, it’s not at all what I expected.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here, right?”

  A slight smile tugged at her lips as she let her eyes meet his. “Right.”

  Loud guitar music and raucous laughter started up as they rounded a corner and intensified as they neared a blue neon sign that read, ‘The Hole.’

  “We’re here. Home sweet –”

  Crash! A beer bottle shattered against the door frame, sending glittering brown shards across the sidewalk. A man in worn jeans and a black t-shirt, his cell phone in hand, jumped aside, cursing under his breath. He looked big enough to be a bouncer, all right, but he just stood there shaking his head and wiping the beer off his shoes with a tissue.

  “And that would be Axl, my useless bouncer,” Sailor said quietly, leaning in close enough for Ace to smell her undoubtedly expensive perfume. His skin tingled as her bare arm brushed against his.

  They passed Axl on the way inside. Sailor gave him a dirty look, but he ignored it. Just inside, Ace honed in on a woman dancing on a table. Nearby, a jukebox blared scratchy heavy metal from a busted speaker. The table wobbled dangerously as the dancing woman’s friends cheered her on, sloshing their beers as they hooted and hollered. Her skirt was way too short, and she had entirely too much flesh to be wearing a halter top. She was also missing an earring and had so much makeup, she looked like a truck stop hooker. It was a shame, too. The place itself was new and modern, with bright colors, lights and smooth angles that should have drawn a nicer crowd.

  “Welcome to The Hole,” Sailor said with a definite note of sarcasm. She crossed her arms and glared at the situation.

  “I see what you mean. If you meant this to be a high-end establishment, it’s missing the mark by about a mile.”

  She nodded and looked away. Her chin trembled. It hurt him to see her upset, even though he didn’t know her at all. But he knew how it felt to see your dreams turn into a nightmare. As a guitar solo screeched through the jukebox, the woman threw her arms in the air, and the table gave way. Ace sidestepped just in time to catch her as she toppled. She seemed startled for a moment before flashing her lipstick-stained teeth at him with a sloppy smile.

  “My hero!” Her booze-laden, rotten breath nearly gagged him. When she threw her arms around his neck and started slobbering kisses all over his neck, he had enough.

  “Get her purse, please,” he told Sailor, who grabbed it from the hook where it hung from the side of the table. The two men who were with her went quiet, sharing confused looks between them.

  One of the men gained enough courage to yell, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing with my girlfriend?”

  Ace ignored him and carried the woman outside, bent over and deposited her none too gently on her butt right onto the sidewalk. She sat stunned for a moment as Sailor followed with her purse. She handed it to Ace, looking at him expectantly. He dug through the purse and took the woman’s keys, then turned and handed them to Axl, who just stared at them as though he’d never seen such a thing before.

  “Call her a cab, keep her keys until it gets here, and you put her in it,” Ace said, plopping the purse down beside its owner.

  Axl looked up at him, his ruddy cheeks flushing even redder as he narrowed his eyes and puffed out his chest. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Your new boss. Now do your damn job, or get the fuck out.”

  Over Sailor’s shoulder, Ace saw sudden movement. He gently pushed her aside, putting himself in the path of the rushing duo that had just been cheering the dancing drunk lady on a moment earlier. He crouched, easily missing a fist and catching the woman’s boyfriend around the waist. Ace hoisted him up and over his shoulder, where the drunk landed flat on his back beside his girlfriend. The next guy threw a punch. Ace caught his fist and squeezed hard until the knuckles cracked and the guy went to his knees, screaming in pain.

  Axl, eyes wide as saucers, punched a few numbers on his phone. “Yeah, we need a cab here at The Hole ASAP.”

  Ace turned his attention back to the drunks. “You can all get in the cab when it arrives, or you can ride in the back of a police car. What’s your preference?”

  Ace let go of the guy’s fist, who immediately hugged his sore knuckles to his chest as he stumbled to his feet and joined his
friends. They all sat on the sidewalk, quiet and sulking as they threw Ace some ice cold glares that he completely ignored.

  He faced off with Axl. “If any of them try anything before the cab gets here, we immediately take them down and call the police. Got it?”

  Axl glanced at the drunken trio and then back to Ace with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t give people a chance to start shit, and there won’t be any shit. Remember that.” He turned back to Sailor, who stood there blinking with her mouth agape, as though she’d never seen a real bouncer in action before. And from the looks of things, she probably hadn’t. “Shall we go back inside, Miss Kingston?”

  “Um, yes, okay. Let’s do that.” As she passed him, she actually smiled for once. He rather liked it.

  Chapter Four

  Any problem Roger Kingston accepted was one he attacked with aggression. He listed out the facets of the problem on his yellow pad, then recopied them into columns, and sometimes even tacked up the more complex ones using index cards on a cork board. As a young girl, she had hated this. Just do it, Dad, she thought. Just do something! Later, it was “just fucking do something,” but only in the summer after her first year in college, when she had become more self-aware.

  Roger Kingston had not accepted one problem - the problem of making his daughters happy. That he left for Sailor and Marina to do on their own. Marina did it by sexually teasing boyfriends and smoking pot; Sailor did it with clothes and shoes, initially by shopping for outfits with mother Camilla’s credit card, and later by studying the fashion industry.

  At eighteen, Sailor finally got drunk during summer vacation and cornered her father in the back room of his plush commercial realty office. “Why? Why the fuck haven’t you ever been there for me? Don’t you even give a shit? Life is not just about money!”

  Roger looked at her with slightly watery eyes and said, “I believe in self-reliance. Someday, maybe not soon, but someday your mom and I won’t be there. You have to take charge of yourself. It’s like that in this world. But listen, one thing we always did: we made sure you were picked up from your crib when you cried. Your mother read that leaving children to cry creates learning disabilities. So we did all right by you. You’re smart, aren’t you? You’re beautiful, stylish, aren’t you? And some day you’ll make good money on your own. What else is there? Those things are life.”