Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
But skill wasn’t the only reason they called me Ace. I was also lucky as fuck. It wasn’t something I relied on, but I couldn’t disagree when they called me that and said it was infuriating.
The right card at the right time, the right bet before the turn, the right instinct about when to fold.
During one of those games, Pierce—the former prez and founder of the club—had muttered, “The bastard’s an ace.” The name stuck. Not because I won every hand, but because I knew exactly which ones were worth playing. I never chased losses or gambled recklessly. I always knew when to walk away.
So trying to get this bullshit past me was a stupid fucking move.
I grabbed my phone and fired off a quick text to Wizard, alerting him to check his own digital perimeters. He was relentless—he’d spot the breach instantly, no matter how subtle it was.
Since I already had a meeting scheduled with King and our VP, I shut down my computer and secured it with my thumbprint. Then I gathered up the stack of folders, pushed back from my desk, and headed out of my office. My footsteps were heavy as I strode through the clubhouse toward King’s domain.
The club president’s office was near the back of the building, away from the lounge’s low hum and the distant laughter drifting from the bar area. It was closer to the entrance to the house built on the back, where King lived with his old lady and son.
The heavy wooden door was cracked open, low voices murmuring from inside. I knocked once before pushing the door open wide.
King sat behind his massive desk, the dark wood worn and polished to a sheen. He turned away from Blaze, who was leaning against one of the bookshelves lining the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes crinkled slightly in amusement when he saw me walk in. “Finally escaped from your spreadsheets?"
“Fuck off,” I retorted dryly, tossing the files on King’s desk as I settled onto one of the chairs across from him.
King shot Blaze an impatient look, ignoring his chuckle. “Background checks complete?”
“Yeah,” I answered, shifting the stack toward him. “Wizard did his thing, and we sent all the sensitive shit over the secure server. Everything checks out clean. Nothing red-flagged on finances either. The guys are solid.”
Blaze raised an eyebrow. “Took you long enough. Thought you’d buried yourself in paperwork and we’d have to send in search and rescue.”
“Not all of us can solve problems by lighting shit on fire,” I shot back.
Blaze smirked, completely unapologetic. “Nothing says finished like ash and rubble.”
King ignored us, flipping through the files briefly before settling back in his chair. He studied me for a moment, his permanent scowl firmly in place and his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “What else? You’re wearing that look.”
I leaned forward, my elbows braced on my knees and fingers loosely interlaced. “Got some micro-probes hitting our shell companies. Small transactions, pattern testing.”
King’s scowl deepened, his voice lowering dangerously. “Someone’s testing our fence line.”
“Exactly.” My fingers tightened briefly. “I tracked them back to the compliance firm in the building on Second Street downtown.”
Blaze straightened, the playful edge gone, replaced by a calculated intensity. “They’re poking at our security?”
I nodded once, my eyes locked with King’s. “Feels like a diagnostic. No moves to steal or disrupt yet.”
King’s expression was carefully neutral, but I knew him well enough to see the quiet anger simmering beneath the surface. “And your move?”
“I prefer to see the board before we make a move,” I replied evenly, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I’m paying them a personal visit tomorrow. After I do a little more digging.”
King’s lips curled just slightly, the smallest hint of approval breaking through his typically hard expression. “Good. Find out what the fuck is going on and handle it.”
“On it.” I pushed to my feet.
Blaze tilted his head. “Just information gathering?”
I nodded as I headed for the door. “Keepin’ everything subtle for now. If I decide to set something on fire later, you’ll be my first call.”
Blaze’s dark chuckle followed me as I stepped into the hall.
The following morning, I left my house and went back to the compound, holing up in my office for a few hours. I spent a little more time studying the probes and Hounds’ companies they were targeting. When I had enough information to know what I was looking for, I decided to head out to visit the compliance firm.
After grabbing my keys and a stack of files, I shut and locked my door. Then I stalked down the hall, through the lounge and the kitchen to the back entrance of the large garage built onto the clubhouse. It wasn’t as big as Inferno Cycles and Customs—our business located downtown and managed by Cross—but it was enough to house all of our bikes in rough weather. There was also an area for us to work on them for small repairs and adjustments.