Ace's Key: Book 1

Ace’s Key

Bad Boys ‘N Bars

Book 1

By Abbie St. Claire

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of
the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014

All rights reserved. Printed in
the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in
any manner whatsoever without written permission.

For information, contact [email protected]

Dedicated to my own “Ace”…

Chapter One

Delayed

Delayed

Cancelled

Delayed

I was trying to fly out of Chicago and viewed the usual sights
of the
Flight Status Display Board.
What did I expect; it
was
the
first of December after all. Just my freakin’ luck. My head was roaring with
pain, a fever bubbled through my body like hot lava, and my throat felt like it
was wrapped in barbed wire when I tried to swallow.

My phone was ringing, but the search to find it in my huge
purse was a challenge, and of course, every seat was taken in the gate lounge,
so I slid down the wall and parked myself on the icky carpet.

“Hi, Jim,” I uttered into the phone with a raspy voice.

“You sound worse. You need to get home and see a doctor.”

“I’m at the airport, but all of the flights are delayed due to
weather.” I really felt like biting the pansy-ass’s head off for sending me
home early from the conference, so he could score accolades from my hard work,
but I held back for sake of employment.

“Where’s the key for the lockbox that holds the iPads in the
booth?”

Really? He’d lost it already?

“Booth control closet, top drawer. Pink spiral key chain.”

“Duh, the one place I didn’t look. It’s here. Hope you get home
quickly and take the next few days to rest. Sounds like you need it.” The
asshole hung up without so much as a thank you.

He would’ve known where things were if he’d helped set up the
trade-show booth, but of course, VPs don’t do manual labor, do they? His sole
purpose of sending me home was so he could impress Rugger Sota, our new CEO at
Dailey-Sarns Pharmaceutical Company with the new trade show booth I’d designed.
Jim had had nothing to do with the project, other than handing it off to me.
Sota had flown out to the Oncology meeting in Chicago with the intent of seeing
our new marketing booth. But of course, due to an untimely sickness, my boss stood
to score the credit, and he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Mia Kennedy, please approach the podium,” the gate agent
announced.

“I’m Mia Kennedy.” I hoped my raspy voice didn’t scare her off.

“We’ve moved you up to flight #10774 to Dallas, Ms. Kennedy,
but you need to hurry. It’s leaving in ten minutes from gate A-17.”

There I stood at gate C-31 with ten minutes to get to the A
Concourse at Chicago-O’Hare. I think the airlines pulled this shit just to
watch people scramble. There had to be a camera somewhere recording the
frenzies that happened daily for some freak that had a funny-video-fetish.
Seriously.

Obviously, my luck wasn’t getting any better. I rushed, and running
through the airport, plus my cough, left me winded as I approached the gate,
but I made it just before the door was closed. At least my flying status came
with a first-class upgrade. I took my seat and downed the adult beverage
offered by the flight attendant before napping the rest of the way home to
Dallas.

I was grateful that my flight arrived mid-day; it allowed me
the chance to grab some soup and get home before the typical Friday evening
rush hour started.

When I opened the garage door at my condo, I was shocked to see
Connor’s car in the garage. He never got off early on Fridays.

“Uh, hey babe. Why are you home?” he asked, taking my bags from
me at the door.

“I live here; at least, my name is on the lease.”

He gave me a puzzled look. “You sound terrible. The flu?”

“Probably. Haven’t you listened to any of my messages? I’m
going to eat soup and go straight to bed.”

“Hey, why don’t you lie down on the sofa. I’ll grab your
pillow.” He rushed off with my bags and almost fell over them when the wheel
caught the door casing.

By the time he’d returned with my pillow and a blanket, I’d
removed my coat and scarf and collapsed on the sofa.

“Here, let me help you.” His behavior was way too accommodating,
and he even removed my shoes.

“You’re acting weird. Why are you home so early?”

“Oh, I, um, I… I had this big report due, and the office held
too many distractions, so I came home early.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I really just want to snuggle in
bed and sleep off my cold medicine. Besides, you’re working.”

I rose up to my feet and he quickly stood in front of me. “You
can’t. I…um, I pulled the sheets off and haven’t made the bed back up.”

I knew the medicine and the cold had me in an unfocused fog,
but guilty behavior was just that…guilty. For starters,
when
does he
ever change the sheets? And secondly, coming home to do a report when he has a
huge corner office, an assistant, and a secretary to do just about everything?

“What is going on here? I changed the sheets before I left on
Wednesday. You can help me put another set on, then I’m going to bed.”

I walked into the bedroom and noticed my bed looked stark
without any linens or even a mattress pad. I turned around to ask more
definitive questions just in time to see Connor hastily stuff something into
his pocket.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Just some trash. I’ll go get the sheets.”

“No, you’ll just get the truth out.” I placed my crossed arms
firmly over my chest and sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed. I looked
around the room and noticed nothing seemed to be like I left it. That was
precisely when I noticed the bathroom door shut with the light on.

I turned to look back at Connor, and his brown eyes widened as
he quickly glanced to the door and back to me.

Without any warning, I jumped up and barreled into the bathroom
to find Laci, Connor’s assistant, sitting in my bathroom dressed, but with that
just-been-fucked look.

“Get out, both of you,” I ordered with my finger pointing the
way to the front of the apartment.

“Babe, it’s nothing. We just started drinking and got caught up
in the moment. You know how it…”

With what little energy I had left, I hit him with a right hook
that painfully connected with his left eye, probably hurting me more than him,
but at least it would leave a mark…one he would have to explain.

“Your bitch is next if she’s still here when I count to ten.
Get out.”

Laci ran for the door without waiting for Connor. I’d never hit
a person before, but appreciated the things I’d leaned in kick-boxing class.
And to think, I’d only taken it to help lift up my sagging ass.

Hours passed as I sat on the sofa with a bag of ice over my
hand, staring out the window of my high-rise apartment at the Ashtons. The
lights of the city at night were beautiful, but they claimed an audience. There
was no joy in the view alone.

My phone chirped with a text from Claire.

Got a call from Connor. Call me!

Sick with cold, in bed. Call u tomorrow

B well. Love u baby

Freakin’ dumbtard, I cursed Connor in my head. Trying to rally
my friends in support wouldn’t resolve his issues. There were three things in
life I couldn’t stand—lyin’, cheatin’, and stealin’—and he’d broke two of those
rules at once.

Chapter Two

The next morning, I felt better after a night of rest from my Nyquil-induced
coma, but the day brought the reality of having to deal with the aftermath of
our break-up, and the issue I wasn’t ready for.

“If you’re going to defend him, I’ll hang up,” I said, pouncing
on Claire.

“Not at all. If he was here, I’d punch him in the face,” Claire
gritted out.

“I did. I actually think he’s going to have a black eye.”

“That’s so freakin’ awesome. Knowing that prissy little prick,
he’ll probably cover it up with make-up.”

We both giggled, and it felt great to laugh.

I’d thought I loved Connor, but last night I decided my love
for him was in that “friend” kind of way, and even though we’d been living
together for three years, I suspected Connor and I were too comfortable. We
enjoyed sports, hanging out, the same wine and food, but our sex life was
boring.

We only made love in the straight missionary position, and the
only orgasms I ever had were with a vibrator, which I hid in my suitcase for
trips. The rest of the time I should’ve won an Academy Award for my faux-gasms.
Oral sex…well, you could just forget about that; he was raised to think that
was dirty.

What hot blooded American guy doesn’t want a blow-job?
Not that I favored doing them, but I did love turning my guy on, and I craved
to be turned on. Funny, when I tried to think about what Connor and I had,
nothing exciting came to mind. Our life together was the ultimate of boring.

“Mia, did I lose you?” Claire asked into my earpiece.

“Only to my thoughts.”

“Come hang out with us. Ashley and I are going over to
Bluestone Barrel Room. That new place we’ve been watching is open now.”

“Not tonight. I’ve got the concierge guy coming to bring me
boxes for Connor’s stuff. I still have a few months on my lease, but he’s the
one with a girlfriend, so he can find a new place.”

“You need to come out with us. Let that scumbag box up his own
shit.”

“He left his key on the counter last night when he left. I
don’t want him back here.”

“Fine. I’ll text you the address anyway, in case you change
your mind.”

While packing up his things, I decided that most of the decor
for the apartment I’d picked out and bought with my own money… It was staying.
The only items that truly belonged to him were his clothes. I had those boxed
and labeled for the storage downstairs. The photos of us I ripped to shreds and
found it great therapy.

With three cups of coffee down, thanks to my favorite Keurig, I
had more energy than I’d had in days, and my cold symptoms had finally left me.
I gave my apartment a thorough cleaning and decided Connor needed to take the
bed with him. It just seemed used and…well…fitting. I didn’t want it any more.
I wanted out with the old and in with the new.

Concierge arrived and took all of Connor’s things, including
the “cheating” bed I’d gifted him. Then I gave the concierge Connor’s credit
card information for storage fees, and he, along with his meekly possessions,
became part of my past.

I walked to the garage to go out shopping. The day was mild for
December, but the air was still fresh, and I felt like I was breathing it for
the first time in a long time. My first stop was to the furniture store, where
I purchased a new bed. It was more invigorating that one could imagine. My
second stop was for fresh linens. With a new spunky attitude, I found
everything I wanted and in lipstick red silk, my favorite color.

I arrived back at the apartment to find the mattress delivery guys
waiting on me. Man, they moved fast.

“We have a delivery for Mia Kennedy?” the driver asked, with
clipboard in hand.

“Yep, that’s me. I’ll show you the freight elevator. I’m on the
twenty-first floor.” I turned to take in a good look at the delivery guy behind
me and noticed he was totally hot in the pumping-iron kind of way.
I
have some iron he could pump, I thought to myself.

“You work with a trainer,” I asked him, while batting my eyes
on our elevator ride up to my apartment.

Hey, he didn’t have a ring, and what was wrong with moving on?

“I’m a trainer,” he answered with a deep, southern accent.
“You’re a runner, aren’t you?”

I glanced down at my choice of running pants, shoes, and a
North Face jacket, which gave that away. “I run and also started kickboxing
recently.”

“I’ll give you my card when we get upstairs. My gym is not too
far. I also have private session slots, in case you’re interested.” His gaze
caused my body to stir.

I instantly felt my nipples pull tight, and the lace of my bra
became abrasive against them. “Private sessions, huh? I’ll consider it.”

I heard the other guy snicker behind me. I didn’t turn to look
at him in the other corner, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing
I was being played.

With the new bed assembled and a business card on my nightstand
to remind me my pussy wasn’t dead, I surfed the internet out of complete
boredom and decided to put a profile on some of the dating sites for fun. Not
something I’d done in the past because I’d always had men introduced to me by
mutual friends, but I thought it might be fun to see who was out there. Before
I realized it, I’d spent the better part of three hours plugging in information
and filling out forms to sign up.

Then the emails started coming in, one creepy request right
after another.

Hey babe, you’re hot and I know how to put out your fire.

Do you like threesomes?

Do you like anal?

Really?
I couldn’t delete the emails and my accounts
fast enough.
What fucking retard sends that crap to women?
I couldn’t
imagine it working for them, but it was a definite deal breaker for me.

I was in the middle of deleting that shit from my phone when
Ashley called.

“You’re joining us tonight, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Not tonight, but next time for sure.”

“You can’t stay cooped up feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not, really. Just can’t mix alcohol and cold medicine.”

“Drink soda. C’mon. It won’t be the same without you. Besides,
Claire kind of told Connor you were going out.”

“Seriously? Fine, but only for a little while. Then I’m coming
home, and you two maniacs can do your usual and close down the bar without me.”