An Aces Christmas (The Aces' Sons)

“Can’t get over that cut,” Draco said, backhanding Curtis on his chest, the sound of skin hitting leather loud in the car.

“Give it a minute,” Curtis said, glancing at his brother. “You’ll be wearin’ one, too.”

“That’s always been the plan, huh?” Draco said.

“Always been?” Curtis asked suspiciously. “Still the plan, yeah?”

“’Course,” Draco said, looking straight ahead.

Curtis looked at Draco and my stomach twisted with uncertainty. I’d heard the weirdness in Draco’s tone, too, but I was really hoping Curtis wasn’t going to try and get into it with him. We were headed to the club to see a huge group of people that D hadn’t seen in a long ass time—years, in some cases—he didn’t need to be more stressed out than he already was.

I breathed a sigh of relief as Curtis let it go.

“Let me in,” Curtis ordered as we pulled up to the gates. “I’ve got a VIP.”

“Jesus,” Draco complained as the prospects opened the gate for us.

“Just be glad they didn’t stop us to check the trunk,” I said, reaching up to pat Draco’s shoulder. He jerked in surprise, but we both ignored it. I faltered. “Uh, yeah, they’ve done that plenty of times.”

“Swear they do it just to fuck with me when I’m not on my bike,” Curtis grumbled as we made our way up the driveway.

“Well, thank you for taking one for the team,” I said. “I’m not sure how the three of us would’ve fit on your bike.”

“I’m not ridin’ on the back of anyone’s bike,” Draco said.

“She’s not ridin’ on the back of mine, either,” Curtis said, scoffing.

“Ew,” I replied, flicking the back of his head. “Like I’d ride with your dumbass anyway.”

Draco’s body was thrumming with tension by the time Curtis parked the car. While me and Curt climbed out of the driver’s side, he stayed in his seat, staring out the front windshield.

Curtis made a helpless gesture and widened his eyes at me a little. Yeah, I wasn’t sure what to do, either. So, I just did what I’d always done—plowed straight ahead.

I rounded the hood and threw open Draco’s door.

“Let’s go,” I announced. “Your adoring crowd awaits.”

“Just enjoying the silence for a second,” he replied with a smile as he got out of the car.

The forecourt was so crowded with bikes and cars that we had to weave our way around to get to the front door. The outside of the door was decorated with a single strand of twinkle lights and a fake pine garland, and I stopped for a second to appreciate it.

“Come on, I’m freezin’ my balls off,” Curtis said, giving me a little shove.

“Fine.” I opened the door and a wave of sound hit us instantly.

Music, voices, laughter, screaming kids, and the sound of shuffling feet rushed over me. I smiled.

“Showtime,” I said to the boys before raising my voice over the crowd. “We’re here,” I yelled out.

“Thanks for that,” Draco said dryly as the crowd moved almost as one, turning toward us.

Rebel reached him first, smiling so wide that it was impossible not to smile with her. As Draco wrapped her in a hug, I sniffled and widened my eyes, refusing to cry. Turning away, I moved toward the bar, keeping an eye out for Kara. It was past time for her to face the damn music.Chapter 10DracoPresent

Whoever said you can’t go home again hadn’t been born into a family of multigenerational members of the Aces and Eights Motorcycle Club.

When I strode inside the clubhouse for the first time in four years, it took me a minute to get my bearings. It wasn’t because everything was different than I remembered it—actually, just the opposite. It was like stepping into a time warp where nothing ever changed. Small things were different, some of the tables were new and the bar stools had been replaced, but for the most part, everything was familiar—including the faces that turned to greet me.

I met Grease’s eyes from down the bar and greeted his nod with my own then watched as his eyes crinkled at the corners just before a tornado hit me in the midsection, knocking me back a step.

“I missed you,” Rebel said, leaning back to grin at me.

“Same,” I said, squeezing her tight. “You get taller?”

“No,” she replied, scoffing. “I’m still five feet two inches exactly.”

“Exactly?” I teased. “Are you sure? I think you might be off at least half an inch.”

“I’m not,” she replied seriously. “I was just measured last week and I didn’t wear shoes. Maybe it’s my shoes?”

“You’re probably right,” I said, my throat tight. “Still gorgeous as ever.”

“I’m wearing mascara,” she replied happily, batting her eyelashes at me.

“Pfft,” I said, leaning down a little. “You don’t need it.”

Reb’s smile, the joy or the relief or the welcome, something about it, made my chest tighten and for a moment, I felt myself getting choked up.