Page 14 of Fugitive Flirtation

As the sedan gains on us, I turn around and catch a glimpse of the driver. It’s David Blackwell.

“It’s my boss’s son,” I gasp.

Ace gets out of traffic into a cul-de-sac. Before he reaches the end of it, he slams on the brakes, sending his SUV into a spin. The sedan shoots past us, its tires smoking. Ace throws the vehicle into reverse and blocks the exit.

“We need answers,” he growls.

Ace rushes out of his seat and stands in front of David’s car, pointing a gun at him. Standing like a cowboy in an old western, Ace’s the sexiest man alive. If I wasn’t so scared I’d… well I don’t know what I would do.

David kills his engine and raises his hands. As soon as he does, Ace yanks open the driver’s side door, dragging a dazed David out. He slams him against the car, his forearm pressed against David’s throat.

“Talk,” Ace demands. “Now.”

David’s eyes widen, his face pale. “I… I didn’t have a choice,” he stammers. “They said they’d kill me if I didn’t do what they wanted.”

“Who’s they?” he asks.

“The guys I owe money to. From the poker games.” David swallows hard. “They said if I didn’t help them frame you, they’d…” He trails off, his eyes filling with tears.

Ace’s grip tightens. “But you’re such a dumb fuck, you didn’t set all this up on your own. You got Alicia to help you? She’s the one who organized everything?”

David’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head vigorously. “No, no. She was one of our two marks. None of the girls had anything to do with it.”

Ace releases him, and David slumps against the car, rubbing his throat. Ace looks in the car and pulls out a phone. He places it in front of David’s face to unlock it and looks at the screen for a bit.

He throws the phone to the ground and steps on it. I’m not sure what he’s trying to do. Annoy David or make sure no one will be following us? As far as I know, crushing this state-of-the-art equipment isn’t enough to make it impossible to track.

And now Ace pulls out his phone and dials. “Where the fuck are you?” he asks. He listens to someone answer. “Well, tell them to hurry up a bit or they’re going to be late to the party.” Another pause. “Yeah, in Flamingo Pass, and I’ve got the son of the boss. He just peed himself.” Ace hangs up.

He kneels to get to David’s level. He pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, snaps them onto David’s wrists, and says, “If you’re waiting for the cavalry to come rescue you, don’t get your hopes up, asshole. My guys just took care of them so no one’s coming to your rescue.”

I want to tell Ace that I’m not so sure about that. I’m ready to bet my condo that Blackwell Sr. will do everything in his power to make the entire case go away. But I keep my comments to myself.

Why? Because Ace needs to apologize for thinking the worst of me. And I’m not sure apologizing is going to be enough.

Ace drags David up to his feet by pulling on his cuffs and shakes his head. “You’re coming with us.”

“Where to?” he whines.

“Not sure yet,” Ace answers. “It’s up to my boss. If it was up to me I would…”

We don’t get a chance to know what he would do if he was in charge as we’re interrupted by the arrival of the large SUV that had blocked us earlier, escorted by a dozen bikers sporting the colors of the Iron Tornadoes MC.

The one whose jacket identifies him as the VP of the MC approaches Ace.

“We got the goons,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the SUV. “Tied up in the back.”

Ace nods, a grim satisfaction on his face. “Good.”

Another man steps forward. “Ice called. Everyone’s meeting at the office in Point Lookout.”

“Everyone?” I ask, curious.

“You must be Alicia,” the man says, offering his hand. “I’m Whizz, one of those lazy-ass bosses. It’s a pleasure to meet you. It’s not every day we get someone’s who actually not guilty.”

“Nice to meet you too,” I say. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Right, everyone would be a representative of the bondsman, the sheriff, and even Blackwell Sr.”

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