Page 59 of Bourbon and Proof

“I call bullshit,” I bite back. It sounds like a placating line.

He exhales, and then tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. “It’s not bullshit, baby.”

Baby?I turn off the water and pull his hands to rest on the towel in my lap. “Don’t baby or sugar me. Right now, I’m not your wife, just your friend,” I say as I softly pat at the ripped skin. “You think I care if you fucked that woman?” With exasperation, I shake my head. “Nope. Don’t care. You asked me what I wanted when we started this—I said I wanted honesty. And I want it right. Fucking. Now.”

I tamp down the emotion that’s threatening to surface.I will not cry. Hold it together, Hadley.“Secrets say, ‘I don’t trust you.’ Lies tell me you’ve got something to hide. And I don’t want either of that in this sham of a relationship.”

Like he knows I still have more to say, he quietly watches me be gentle with his hands. “I want proof that I can trust you, Ace. I want to know that I can count on you to be the one person who won’t hurt me.” When I look up at his face, his eyes immediately lock with mine. “So, answer the question. Who is she?”

Reaching for the rocks glass, he hands it to me. I take a sip and let the burn of it coat my mouth before sliding down my throat. I didn’t drink to ease pain or mask problems, but a well-timed shot of bourbon had its own healing power sometimes.

“There’s always a solution to every problem,” he says, his tone measured. “You just need to ask the right people to help solve it.”

With a pinched brow, I open the ointment and blot some on his wounds.

He keeps his attention on my face when he says, “You’ve met Julian.”

I work through who he’s referring to, and the only person I can think of is one I only noticed recently. “Hot, leather cuffs, likes to flirt?” I ask.

He nods. “He’s a jeweler. Very talented. He’s made some impressive pieces. But that’s not how he works with me.” Clearing his throat, he adds, “He cleans things up when I require it.”

That has my full attention, and I glance up at him to confirm if what I think he’s saying is true.

He gives me another nod. “The night that I created a DNA-filled mess in the stables with that asshole, Switcher. Julian is who I called in to clean things up afterwards.”

My fingers stop moving along the gashes, trying to digest all of that. And the fucked-up part is that I’m more surprised that this is the first time in ten years that he’s bringing up what happened that night.

“The blonde woman is an architect,” he continues. “Seraphine draws up plans for just about every property we’ve ever built. She’s working on rebuilding the new rickhouse now. But she, like Julian, hasothertalents.”

The anger and frustration I had about all of this is quickly dissolving into even more questions, but of an entirely different tone, like,who the hell did I just marry?I try focusing on what I’m doing while he keeps talking, pulling out a butterfly bandage.

“Seraphine removes problems that no longer fit into an equation. If you’re asking if I’m sleeping with her, the answer is no. It’s not like that between us, never has been. She has a certain way about her, so I understand why you might have gotten that idea. Like you, she leans into her sexuality. She uses it to her advantage, but she and I are purely business partners.”

“Like us?” I ask, vulnerability sneaking into my voice, hoping he doesn’t say yes.

“No, Hadley. Not like us,” he says quietly, and the words hit me right in the chest in a way I didn’t expect. “I’m trusting you here. This is not information that people know. Griz knows, hell, it’s part of his legacy. He knew Julian’s father, who had done the same. I have no idea when Seraphine showed up, but he introduced me to her as well. But my brothers don’t know any of this.”

Ace tells his brothers everything. I can’t believe that this hasn’t been shared with them.

“Seraphine operates on a larger scale, handling things that would be higher profile than Julian or I are equipped to deal with. I’ve asked her here to remove?—”

“Why would they do this for you?” I interject, trying to wrap my head around all of this.

“I help when they need the support. When I step in, it’s usually about strategy and connecting people, but I have no issue getting my hands dirty. You already know that, though,” he says, glancing down at his hand still resting in mine.

I suppose I did. Even outside of his busted hands from tonight. I knew that he hadn’t just politely asked Switcher to leave and never come back. I knew he wasn’t some gallant knight riding in to do the right thing, just like I knew that whatever it was he had done, it made me feel safe in a way I never had before.

All of it is unbelievable. A part of me wants to swoon over the fact that this man is morally fucking gray. And yet, a part of me feels like I’m just making excuses for poor judgement and criminal behavior. I did that with my father for decades. How could I continue to do it now?

He clears his throat, cutting into my thoughts. “It’s not right and not my first choice on how to deal with people, but some...”he trails off as he shakes his head. “I would kill Switcher all over again.”

I can only stare at him for a moment, staying quiet at that confirmation. It’s seven layers of fucked up, but hearing him say that and how he didn’t hesitate to make sure that fucker got what was coming to him...I feel cared for. Taken care of.

Searching my face for some kind of response, he says, “You didn’t ask me to do it. Switcher could have gotten up and walked out of there with a bruised face and ego, but there would have always been the chance that he’d try coming near you again.” His jaw twitches, head shaking. “No fucking way.” He tries to calm his tone, cupping his hand across his mouth, leaning close against the counter where I sit. More quietly, he says, “Switcher put his hands on you, got rough, then ran his mouth. None of that would ever be okay with me.”

Nodding, I hop off the vanity. “You’re right. I didn’t ask you to do that. I didn’t ask for any of that from you.” It’s the second time in my life that a man I thought I knew has been carrying on with things I knew nothing about. But this one’s actions only ever show me that I matter to him. That I’m not a commodity or an inconvenience, like I am for my father. That means more to me than even I thought it could. “Thank you. It’s not enough, but I pushed for answers, and you gave them to me.”

Those haunted eyes search mine as he swallows and shifts his weight. Maybe there’s more, maybe not, but I want to fall asleep knowing that I’m important to someone. Someone I’m wildly attracted to, despite the fact that he skates along the lines of morally right and just.

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