The Aces MC Complete Collection

  “It is what it is. That’s life, ya know? I married him knowing that this was how it would be, no use bitching about it now.”

  “I can understand that,” I replied quietly, glancing at Patrick.

  “Yeah, your man’s got that same look about him.”

  “What look?”

  “That hard look. You know, always ready for something bad to happen—almost like they expect it.” I nodded. “It’s worth it, though, I think, living with that look. Because we get the other looks, too, the sweet ones and the sexy ones and the exhausted ones. They only share those looks with us.”

  “I like the sexy look best,” I murmured as Patrick glanced up and met my eyes, his lips tipping up a fraction until his dimple came out.

  “No doubt.” Vera laughed.

  “Is your husband a mechanic?” I asked, deciding to change the subject.

  “Sure, he works on bikes and shit.”

  “Patrick’s a mechanic, too, but I think he works mostly on cars.”

  “That right?” she glanced over at the men. “Well, maybe they’ll hit it off and then me and you can hang out more while we’re here. I’ve been bored outta my mind.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I answered with a grin. I knew plenty of people, but I think Vera was my very first girlfriend in Ireland.

  We chatted while I worked, our husbands moving off at some point to talk to the rest of Charlie’s friends, and I learned that Vera had run away from home at sixteen. She was a year older than me and had been with Charlie off and on for the past two years, the last ‘off’ ending with a marriage proposal. They hadn’t been married long, but it sounded like they’d been living together for a while. She didn’t have that starry-eyed newlywed look about her that I knew I still had. It was a more full-bodied look, comfortable, solid.

  The night went by more quickly than it usually did, and before I knew it, I was closing down and locking up. My boss let me work a couple nights a week on my own, usually when it was slow and he knew Patrick would be there. I loved those nights, when Patrick and I would work together to close up. It gave us a few minutes alone that we wouldn’t have had otherwise in our packed house.

  “Give me a call this week and we’ll hang out,” Vera said, moving in for a hug. “I’m so glad we met.”

  “Me, too.”

  Vera and the group of men walked boisterously down the quiet street as Patrick wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me home.

  “Ye like her?” he asked in a low voice, the quiet wrapping around us like a blanket.

  “Yeah, she was nice. Too bad she lives in the US.” I wrapped my arm around his waist. “Charlie seemed cool.”

  “Yeah, he’s not bad. De lads he came wit’, dough… I don’t want ye seein’ dem alone, alright?”

  “Okay.”

  I wanted to ask questions, but I knew better. If Patrick didn’t want me to see them by myself, there was a reason for it. It wasn’t worth it to me to argue.

  “I can’t wait to get home, I’m so tired,” I moaned, leaning into his side.

  “Dat’s too bad,” he whispered back, leaning down so his breath brushed across my neck, “I was hopin’ we wouldn’t sleep for a while yet.”

  “Is that right?”

  He reached for my hand and pulled it across his body to rub it against the front of his jeans, “I’m dyin’ for ye.”

  “Poor baby,” I said back huskily with a wicked smile. I could see our house in the distance and broke out into a run as his carefree laughter floated out behind me, making my heart skip a beat.

  I had my key in the lock when he caught me and my breathless laugh was loud against the door when he pressed his body against my back.

  “None o’dat.” His hand covered my mouth to keep me quiet as he ushered me inside. “Ye have to be quiet or ye’ll wake de house.”

  We walked with his body pressed tightly against mine all the way to our bedroom, one of Patrick’s hands covering my mouth and the other cupping my breast under my coat, flicking and pinching at my nipple.

  We made it to our room in only seconds, but I was already slick and ready as he closed the door behind us.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered, pulling my coat down my arms. “Have I told ye today how beautiful ye are?”

  “Not today.”

  “I apologize for lettin’ ye go all day wit’out hearin’ it.”

  “Can I move yet?”

  “No.”

  Patrick pulled my snug t-shirt over my head, immediately unhooking my bra and pushing the straps all the way down my arms until it dropped to the floor. He was still behind me as he wrapped his arms around my waist to unbutton my jeans. “Kick off yer shoes.”

  My breath became choppy as I kicked off my shoes, and as soon as I had my balance, he was pulling off my jeans and underwear in one swift movement, leaving me in nothing but a pair of white socks I’d stolen out of his drawer that afternoon.

  “Bend over de bed,” he said huskily, pulling the scrunchie out of my hair so it spread in waves over my bare back.

  “Oh, so I can move now?”

  “Smart mout’.”

  He grabbed a handful of my hair and walked me forward until my knees hit the bed, but when I tried to lower myself he stopped me.

  “Legs straight, wife.” I loved it when he called me wife that way, all growly and fierce like he was reminding me who I was to him.

  “Dat’s right, now bend,” he said softly, putting one hand on my belly to situate me how he wanted.

  The muscles in the backs of my legs protested the position, but I didn’t complain as I heard first his jacket and then his shirt fall to the floor behind me. I was braced on my elbows with my head hanging between my arms when I felt him move to his knees behind me, gripping my legs gently as he moved them farther apart.

  “I’ve been waitin’ all day for dis,” he said, his breath hitting the back of my thighs. “Daydreamin’ when I should have been workin’.”

  His hands moved up the backs of my thighs until they met between them, and I whimpered as I felt his thumbs pull me apart. The first touch of his tongue against my flesh made me jump, and he made a soothing noise in the back of his throat as he moved in again, licking me delicately at first and then harder as my hips began to undulate.

  We’d done almost everything we could when it came to sex; Patrick wasn’t shy and he wouldn’t let me be, either, but every time felt new, the orgasms stronger as inhibitions fell to the wayside and we grew more comfortable with one another’s bodies.

  I bent my knees, relieving the tightening pressure of my thigh muscles, and arched my back so I could push against his mouth, completely lost in the feeling of his lips and tongue against me.

  “Dat’s right, me love,” he murmured against me, “take what ye want.”

  His hands were gripping me tightly as I moved against him, and then suddenly, a sharp slap hit the meat of my ass, the sound echoing throughout the room.

  “What the fuck, Patrick?” I hissed, my head whipping up in shock.

  “I told ye I’d spank ye.” Another slap on the opposite cheek had me trying to pull away. I couldn’t believe him.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “ ‘Knock it off, Patrick’,” he mimicked me, spanking me again. “Slapped me hand down on de tabletop like a child.”

  “You deserved it!”

  He began to laugh, and I struggled away from him. I was angry that he’d slapped me and even more livid that he’d ruined my impending orgasm.

  “You’re such a dick!”

  When I turned to face him and dropped to my ass on the bed, he was still kneeling there on the floor wearing a wide smile. It was one I hadn’t seen in what felt like a very long time, and I felt my anger drifting away.

  “I love dat yer back to arguin’ wit’ me,” he said simply. “For a while it felt like ye were too afraid to cause any waves, so ye were just goin’ along wit’ whatever I wanted.”

  I opened my mouth t
o respond, but nothing came out. I had been like that when he’d first moved back, but I’d realized after a while that I couldn’t behave that way. It just wasn’t me. Did I want Patrick to love me? Of course. Was I willing to be a doormat to secure that love? No way in hell.

  “I can’t believe you hit me.”

  “Ach! It was a love tap.”

  “You slapped my ass hard! Three times!”

  “And it felt good, didn’t it?”

  My eyebrows lifted in surprise as I paused.

  “I bet yer arse is red as a cherry right now, all hot and tender,” he coaxed, leaning forward to place a kiss between my breasts. “A little pain feels good, yeah? Like when I bite ye here?” he turned his head to the side and pressed his teeth against the side of my breast. His hands slid up the tops of my thighs, one veering to grip my hipbone and the other trailing down until the tips of his fingers were pressed just barely inside me. “Or when I take ye hard,” he rasped, thrusting inside forcefully.

  My head tipped back and my eyes closed as his fingers curled forward inside me. He moved his mouth between my breasts, biting and sucking hard at my nipples while his fingers continued their movements, and before long I was holding back the moans that threatened to burst out of my mouth.

  Right as I felt that final swell that I knew would take me to the promised land, Patrick’s fingers and mouth were gone, and he was flipping me to my belly before pulling me up to my hands and knees.

  “Me handprints look good on ye,” he said breathlessly as I heard his belt clinking. He placed his hands on my burning cheeks and pressed outward, opening me up. Then with one hard thrust he was planted inside me and I was yelling sharply into the blankets beneath me.

  His hips moved jerkily until he got a rhythm going, and a warm feeling grew in my chest at his obvious lack of control. I loved knowing that he was as affected as me.

  “Ye were made for me,” he said into my ear, wrapping his hand in my hair as he came down over me with one arm braced above my shoulder. “I’ll never love anot’er.”

  When I looked back on that night later, I sometimes wondered if I would have changed the way we came together. If I would have rather made love to him face-to-face so I could watch as his eyes grew cloudy, and his face flushed with his orgasm. If only I’d made him flip us back over so I could run my hands across his chest and map the freckles across his cheeks with my eyes. I decided eventually that I wouldn’t have changed a thing, though.

  The way he took me wasn’t sweet or tender, it was fucking in its rawest form. I was pinned beneath him and unable to touch him, but I’d also been surrounded and protected and his words against the side of my face were the purest declaration of love I’d ever heard.

  Chapter 30

  Patrick

  Christ, I was tired.

  I’d been gone from home for almost a week, which meant I’d gotten very little rest. I was still having trouble sleeping without my wife, and my dependence on her presence made me angry. I was the man. I was the husband. My need for her shouldn’t surpass her need for me—but that was exactly what it felt like. She went on about her days when I was away, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, while I grew shaky and out of sorts the minute she was out of my sight.

  It was frustrating as hell.

  I got back to our house late that night, and everything was quiet as I made my way inside. I’d stopped by Amy’s work, but apparently she’d taken the night off because she was feeling ill. I hadn’t talked to her in a few days and I was anxious to make sure she was okay. I hated the thought of her not feeling well while I wasn’t there, even though I knew my mum would take care of her.

  When I crawled into bed beside her, she was sleeping heavily and I could feel the fever on her skin. I wrapped my cool body around hers, and breathed deeply, my anxiety lessened even with proof of her illness.

  “Patrick?” she whispered.

  “Go back to sleep, love.” I rolled over to face the door and felt her curl up against my back with one hot hand on my stomach.

  “I think I caught a cold from Vera.”

  “I know. Go to sleep now. We’ll talk in de mornin.’ ”

  I felt her nod against my back, and less than a minute later her body relaxed into mine.

  I wished I could roll back over and let her rest against my chest, but I didn’t dare. I was too tired and I was afraid to fall asleep that way, vulnerable on my back, with her body shielding mine. We hadn’t slept that way since I’d started working for Short Michael, and I didn’t ever see there being a time where I’d feel confident enough to do so again.

  Too many things happened when you weren’t prepared. I’d seen that first hand—I’d been the thing that happened.

  I’d never be caught off guard, especially while my wife slept trustingly against me.

  ***

  I woke a few hours later to quiet voices and movement around the house. Mum had work that morning, and my da had started waking up with her so they could have a few moments of privacy before she started her day.

  I’d never understood their relationship, and I didn’t think I ever would. They’d spent so many years apart, but it seemed that it took only days before they fell into a loving relationship that rivaled how they’d been when I was young. My mum smiled and laughed and looked at him with tenderness, and it had been difficult to adjust to at first. Eventually, though, I’d come to the realization that their relationship wasn’t my business. I’d been taking care of my mum for so long that it had been hard to let go, but she’d wanted me to. She needed him in a way that a son could never fill. She needed her man, and as odd as it was for me, I had to accept that she was happier than I could ever remember.

  I heard the front door open and close as Amy moved slightly behind me, and I relaxed into the bed again, pulling her arm more tightly around my waist as her hips met my ass.

  I’d just closed my eyes again when I heard it.

  The house shook as the thunderously loud noise hit my ears, and I was up and out of bed before I was fully aware of what was happening.

  “Patrick?” Amy called frantically as I threw open the door to our bedroom and raced toward the front door.

  “Mum!” I yelled as I ran outside and caught sight of the burning mass of metal that had been my mum’s car. “Mum!”

  I couldn’t see anyone near it, but the minute I got close enough to search more thoroughly, the car next to it caught fire. I stumbled back when a wave of heat blasted against my bare chest. Both cars were burning then, lighting up the early morning and breaking through the quiet with the sound of creaking metal and odd popping noises.

  “Jesus Christ,” I gasped in horror. I glanced back at the house and felt my heart stutter in my chest.

  “Get in de fuckin’ house!” I yelled at Amy, running toward where she was silhouetted in the doorframe in nothing but one of my t-shirts. “Get inside!”

  I wrapped my arm around her waist as I reached her and practically threw her inside. She’d been so close, fuck me, she’d been so close.

  “What’s happening?” Amy cried, pulling at the skin on my arms as I tried to turn away from her.

  “Patrick?” The voice was quiet, a shell-shocked whisper that barely reached my ears, but had me automatically turning toward it.

  I stumbled toward the back of the house and found her.

  I’ll never forget my mother’s ravaged face as she met my eyes from where she was kneeling on the floor of her room. She knew. The minute it had happened, she knew.

  “He was heatin’ up the car,” she whispered brokenly, her hands raised palm up in front of her.

  “Oh, my God,” Amy whispered behind me.

  I was frozen as I stared into my mother’s tear-filled eyes, but my wife wasn’t. When I didn’t move, Amy shoved past me and dropped to the floor next to her.

  “You’re okay,” she said over and over again, as she pulled my mum into her arms. “Patrick will take care of things. You’re okay.” Amy began to cr
y as Mum’s wails filled the house and my body came back to life.

  I’d been so worried about making sure that Amy was safe that I hadn’t even tried to save whomever was in the car.

  My Da. Maybe I could still save him.

  I could hear sirens in the distance, so I tossed my pistol into a drawer on my way outside and ran to my mum’s car. It was still burning, the flames shooting into the sky, but I forced myself to get close enough that I could see inside the driver’s window.

  I didn’t see him at first, but as I got close enough that I could feel little embers burning my skin, I finally found him.

  He was inside still, lying across the seats, and I felt my entire body go numb as I took three stumbling steps backward.

  I didn’t bother trying to get him out. He was quite obviously already gone.

  Chapter 31

  Amy

  The days after Robbie’s death were unbelievably hard.

  I hadn’t known him well. His personality didn’t invite deep conversation, but I’d lived with him for months and he’d loved the same two people that I did. He’d been a quiet guy, very polite, and he’d worshipped Peg.

  Watching Peg in agony was one of the hardest things I’d ever gone through because I didn’t know how to help her. She’d become a shell of the woman I knew, and seemed to walk around in a fog when she actually made the effort to get out of bed.

  Patrick had gone so deep inside his head that he was barely there, even when he was sitting right next to me. He didn’t sleep. He carried a pistol with him at all times and seemed to be waiting for something. I felt him drifting away, farther and farther, as he tried to come to terms with what had happened.

  As if you could ever come to terms with something so violent.

  I didn’t understand it all. The whispers and the comments from neighbors went right over my head, but I knew with certainty that if Patrick didn’t get his shit together quickly, things would only get worse.

  Three days after we had Robbie’s funeral in the same church we’d been married in, I’d had enough.