Page 14 of Ace

Em is Emmalyn, Kincaid's wife, and what that woman wants, she always gets. She's the one who turned Cerberus from a band of horny men into a family. We—they were always brothers and having that connection to the Marine Corps was instrumental in that. But she was like the glue that started gathering tiny pieces of the men we could be at our highest potential and put them together. She, in a way, is responsible for a lot of the success the club has seen. She transformed a man who went from one hookup to the next into a man worthy of being a father and now a grandfather.

"Zara will love her, " I assure him, knowing Em won't hesitate for a moment to bring her under her wing and shelter the newest Cerberus lady like she was her own child.

"I'm a call away if you need me," I tell him, although I doubt he'll ever choose to call me when he has other options.

"Is there anything wrong?" he asks, latching on to how I didn't respond the way he thought I should. "Something I can help with?"

"Nah, man. See you around."

I leave the house, trying to think of anything but the clubhouse back in New Mexico. Nearly every memory I have of that place is locked in my brain with Noah right there. We were as thick as thieves as Rose used to say, as if we were a set of twins hellbent on finding trouble.

We were young and full of shit is what we were. We had no real responsibilities past the missions we went on with Cerberus, but when the work was through, we were atJake's, the local bar, or heading to Albuquerque to find a different selection of women.

I can't think of Cerberus without thinking of my friend, and thoughts of him are dangerous. They're also a reminder that I need to keep my head down and just get my job done.

Chapter 6

Cora

Do they have any idea how hard it is to sit by the phone and wonder if any progress has been made?

It's been three days since the meeting in Pigeon Forge. Other than sending payment information and watching my savings take a massive hit, I haven't heard a word about Sadie or the progress they've been making.

They made it sound like after the money cleared that they'd start work immediately. The information they brought to the meeting made it seem like they'd already gotten started, yet I haven't heard a peep from anyone.

Doubt begins to circulate again, and I know it has more to do with the fact that, although I fought it, I let hope creep in. They seemed so sure of themselves, and I left that meeting thinking I'd get a call on the plane before we even landed back in South Carolina that she'd been found.

I let myself picture using the plane to go pick her up from where she was. The whole damn thing played out in my mind that she'd run to me with open arms and thank me for loving her so much, but I knew better. If anything, she'd yell at me and argue that if I was willing to pay so much to find her, I should've just given her the money when she asked for it. That would be more like Sadie than some imaginary person grateful for anything.

I'd hate to think that either Mr. Anderson or Mr. Yarrow are dragging their feet but, at the same time, I alsoknow that paying someone for something like this doesn't guarantee results either.

In fact, when I think back to the meeting, they made no guarantees at all. I've been around well-spoken politicians long enough to know when people are being careful with their words, making sure not to make promises they later can't keep.

Sickness swims inside of me, making my hands tremble. Did they know something they didn't tell me? Did they have suspicions they didn't voice? Hell, did they plan on taking my money and not doing a damn thing at all? The silence coming from their end is making me lean in that direction.

And to think I found some level of comfort in the fact that they didn't promise me a positive outcome or an outcome at all, come to think of it.

I feel completely helpless as I stare down at the phone number Diego Anderson gave me in case Sadie makes contact or if I remember something that might be helpful to the investigation. I have nothing to offer and that's the only thing that has kept me from calling and demanding answers.

But the longer I sit at my desk, distracted and incapable of doing anything else other than worrying about my sister, the more tempted I am to pick up the phone.

"Cora?"

I snap my head up, trying my best to give my assistant, Alice, a smile. It shouldn't be such a struggle these days to find any hint of happiness, and I hate the way she looks at me. She knows nothing. The Preston family has tried to remain as private as possible, and Sadie not coming home for the last several weeks and my concern over it are just more things I'll have to suffer in silence.

"Hi," I tell her.

"I have that list of resources you asked for," she says, stepping further into my office.

"Thank you, Alice," I say as I reach for the folder of information. "I can't wait to get started on this."

She dips her head before leaving my office, and I hate lying to her. Hell, I hate lying in general, but she works hard. I don't have the heart to tell her I have no idea what she just handed me, and I seriously doubt I'll be in the proper head space to give it the attention it deserves.

There are days I wish I was more like William. I wish I could just block everything out and move forward, make decisions without emotion, but I've never been able to do that. My mother used to praise me for my kind heart while warning me not to be too kindhearted because people would take advantage.

Instead of opening the folder and attempting to sort through the information, I pick up the phone and call Mr. Anderson. I'm going to drive myself crazy not knowing what is going on with Sadie's case.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Preston," he says when he answers, and it throws me off-kilter for a second.

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