Page 56 of Bourbon and Proof

I snatch it out of his hands. “Off-limits.”

“Diary?” he asks, his mouth ticking up at the side. Ace doesn’t have dimples like Lincoln, but there’s a small divot that presses against his cheek when he’s amused.

“Tested sex positions,” I say with a sarcastic smile, leaning my forearm on the closed book beneath me. That answer should keep him from ever wanting to finger through it.

He bites down on his molars, those damn tendons popping in his neck again.Mm, I just want to lick them.“I need a shower,” he mumbles as he turns away.

“That an invitation?” I call out behind him.

He spins around slowly, his foot propped on the first step upstairs as he stares at me from down the hall.I love getting under this man’s skin.Part of me wishes I could hear what he’s so heavily weighing whether or not to say. But he holds up a finger, like he’s counting. And without another word or glance, he glides up the stairs.

I flip open my little black book to add another favorite:navy-blue mesh shorts and a gray cut-off shirt.

“You’re up awfully early today,” Griz says from behind me. I didn’t hear the side door open, but he strolls through like it’s the middle of the day and not the ass-crack of dawn.

I clear my throat, trying to quickly come up with a response, but he beats me to it.

“Mind telling me why I didn’t know about you seeing my grandson until you both had already signed on the dotted line and promised ‘for as long as you both shall live’?” He gives me a pointed look, eyebrow lifted as he circles around the counter.

I squint my eyes, cracking the right one open when I say, “Slipped my mind?”

He lets out a barked laugh. “Is he up yet? I heard him come home late. Must’ve been quite a few urgent things he had to handle to keep you waitin’ on the wedding night.” Griz winks at me. At least he’s amused by this situation and not lacing into me about what the hell I’m doing.

I shake my head. “He’s in the shower.” If we’re going to lean into this and make the lie believable, I might as well start now. “And I’m more tired than hungry,” I lie as I finish peeling my clementine.

“My son used to leave one of those on the boys’ nightstands every night. Told me he wanted to make sure they always had something sweet to wake up to.” Griz smiles, looking down at the counter, lost in the memory for a moment. Then he taps his knuckles on the surface and says, “Be gentle with him.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further, only makes his way down the hall and toward the basement stairs, leaving me in the kitchen of a house that’s always felt like home, but now suddenly is.

Chapter 23

Ace

“We have a little problem,”a voice says quietly over my shoulder.

I turn slightly to see tightly cropped platinum blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. With a heavy exhale, I prepare for what inevitable shit comes next.

“There are five names left, and you haven’t given me any direction on what you want to see happen. One of those names is coming up on trial, and that’s going to make things more difficult if you’d like to see it followed through,” she says. I’m instantly uneasy, knowing the conversation I’m going to need to have with Hadley about her father.

I should feel relieved—removing the problems is the only way this ends with my family safe and happy.

“Baldy, the bloodstock agent, left little to no room for error, especially after that outburst here. Julian helped me figure out a better extraction point. No more bodies traveling over the falls. Presh was getting testy about it.”

I lean back in my chair as Seraphine joins me at the bar, snagging my bourbon out from in front of me and taking a sip. Peering back to look down the long hallway toward Hadley’s office, I’m hoping she continues to take her sweet time talking with Faye. “I know I’m supposed to appreciate this,” Seraphine says, holding up the rocks glass. “But I prefer gin.”

“Hadley makes a good French 75,” I tell her.

She smiles knowingly. “I bet she does.” Then she casually adds, “The run-in your wife had at the Finch & King stables you wanted me looking into wasn’t pissed-off horse breeders.” I wait for her to keep talking. I had a gut feeling this was going to be more complicated than that. Or more dangerous. “Two Russians. Both with last names on your little list.” That short list is from a decade ago now, and as it’s turning out, not just a list of names from a dinner party.

“Who are they?” I ask.

“Career criminals, nothing original,” she says, unimpressed. “Dealers, pushers, traffickers. They’re from a small group that split off from the New York Bratva. They were in Nashville, but pop into Fiasco whenever Wheeler calls. I’ve got them on numerous toll cameras back and forth on the interstate, dating back at least ten years. I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t snatched them up.”

“I don’t think the FBI has much interest in anyone unless they are high profile when it comes to the Finch & King case,” I tell her.

She shifts toward the door, angling herself so she can see more of the room. “You have some high profiles left on your list,” she says. “You should also know that one of these guys had been texting your new wife some colorful threats before they showed up at the stables.”

Hadley had told me about the text messages, but hearing it from Seraphine now and who was sending them makes meinstantly angry. I was careless to assume the more dangerous partners that Wheeler had wouldn’t come looking for payback or handouts with him out of pocket. He left his daughter to fend for herself like she didn’t matter, except when he needed her.

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