Craving Rose (The Aces' Sons) Read online

  Craving Rose

  The Aces’ Sons

  By Nicole Jacquelyn

  Craving Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Jacquelyn

  Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication

  To Raider,

  Thanks for protecting my kids from the monsters under the bed,

  comforting them when they were sad,

  and giving us all so much joy.

  No one has ever had a companion that was loved as much as you were.

  Rest easy, girl.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Rose

  I didn’t let my eyes stray from the men across the room, as if somehow, by refusing to look away, I could take some of his pain and pull it into me. I wanted to yell that I was right here, that I was more important than they knew, that it was my turn. Jesus, wasn’t it my turn yet? What were they waiting for? Dropping my head back against the wall, I grit my teeth against the scream building in my throat. That’s when he looked up and met my eyes as they used a pair of pliers to rip another nail off his right hand. I opened my mouth to say something, anything.

  Don’t do it. I could read the warning in his eyes louder and clearer than I’d ever heard his voice. The message was both firm and pleading, a mixture that I’d never thought I’d see. His blue eyes were dry as they held mine. I’d cried enough for both of us, but he’d barely made a sound all day, no matter what they did.

  I gave the slightest nod, my lips trembling. I’d follow his silent order. I’d stay still and quiet in my corner. It was the only thing I could do for him.

  My gaze roamed his face, taking in the fine lines around his eyes that I’d seen crinkle every time he smiled. The thick eyebrows and suntanned forehead that had the slightest line from where his helmet rested. His hollow cheeks that never rounded no matter how much gas station food he snuck for lunch, and the strong jaw that was so tense it had to ache. My gaze lingered on his lips, the ones I’d seen kiss his daughter tenderly and open wide in laughter on more occasions than I could count.

  When our eyes met again, I could barely see him through my tears. I choked back a sob and he blinked slowly, his nostrils flaring.

  I lost sight of him as the man who I’d see in my nightmares casually stood between us. “Don’t think anyone’s comin’ for ya,” our captor said in disgust, tilting his head to the side.

  My stomach sunk, even though I knew he was wrong.

  “We don’t hear somethin’ soon…” the other asshole shrugged.

  Tossing the bloody pliers onto the dusty pool table, they strode through the basement and up the stairs. They didn’t bother shutting the door behind them. Where would we go? Both of us were tied up and hadn’t moved in what seemed like forever.

  “He call yet?” one of the men said, his voice drifting from upstairs. “We don’t get our money soon, I’m outta here.”

  I closed my eyes and swallowed back a sob as the voices drifted away.

  “It’s okay, Rosie,” he rasped. His neck strained as he leaned toward me as far as he could. “It’s going to be okay, baby. This is nothin’.”

  “Your hand,” I sobbed. “Your poor fingers.”

  “They’ll be fine,” he said, his shoulders bunching as he jerked at his restraints. “God, baby, you gotta stop crying like that. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, hiccupping. I could barely catch my breath.

  We’d been there for days. In the beginning, I’d been so confident I was almost cocky. They’d knocked us around and tied us up, and the entire time I’d been thinking, just wait until my dad gets ahold of you. When they’d separated us, I’d panicked for a second, but assumed that it would be over soon enough. But as time went by and the men who’d kidnapped us grew angrier and angrier, I started to worry. It wasn’t until the torture began that I lost hope that I’d ever see the outside of that basement again.

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said painfully, jerking at the duct tape binding his forearms to the arms of the chair. “I fuckin’ hate that I can’t hold you.”

  “Do you think they’re coming?” I whispered, searching his eyes. “Why aren’t they here yet?”

  “I don’t know,” he said with a sigh, wincing as he shifted in the chair. His hand looked like raw hamburger and the front of his shirt was stiff with dried blood. I hadn’t been able to see where they’d cut him, but it had to be bad if he’d bled that much. I bit the inside of my cheek as I felt hysteria rise within me. “Casper and Hulk are down south,” he said, so low I had to read his lips. “Maybe they’re waitin’ on reinforcements.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I breathed in confusion. “They’re only two men down. That’s nothing.”

  His eyes grew soft as he watched me. “We don’t know what this is, Rose,” he murmured. “These freaks could be part of somethin’ much bigger than we can see from this fuckin’ basement.”

  “I can’t just sit here anymore,” I said, my misery turning to frustration. “I can’t watch them hurt you.”

  “You will,” he said firmly.

  “No.” I shook my head frantically. “I can’t.”

  “You will.”

  “I’ll tell them who I—”

  “I swear to God,” he hissed, cutting me off as he strained so hard at his bindings his wrists and hands turned purple. “Don’t you say one fuckin’ word. Not one fuckin’ word, Rose.”

  “But maybe—”

  “I’d rather die than let them put one fuckin’ finger on you.” He said, his face losing all expression. “Do you understand me? Is that what you want?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I will do whatever it fuckin’ takes to keep you safe,” he ground out. “Anything.”

  “You’d leave me alone wit
h them?” I asked, my heart beating loud in my ears.

  “I’d take the fuckers with me,” he replied flatly. “One of us has to get out of here, and if I have to choose, it’ll be you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shuddered, everything inside me going still.

  “She needs you.”

  “She needs a mother,” he argued roughly.

  “It’s only a matter of time,” I whispered, finally saying out loud what we’d both been thinking for days. “You know it’s coming.” I opened my eyes and stared into his. “It doesn’t matter if I keep my mouth shut.”

  His head fell back as he slumped against the chair in defeat. We both knew that eventually, they’d get tired of trying to get information from him and they’d realize that I was a much better target.

  Staring at his throat, I remembered all the times I’d peppered kisses there. I wasn’t a super affectionate person, I never had been, but I couldn’t seem to help it with him. I wanted to touch him all the time. I’d spent hours drawing patterns on any piece of his skin I could reach. I’d run my fingertips across his eyelashes when he was sleeping, and rubbed my nose against the soft skin of his ear when we were lying together in bed.

  “Get up,” he said suddenly, glancing at the doorway.

  “What?” I whispered dumbly.

  “Up, baby. Quiet, yeah?”

  I stared at him in confusion, but I still awkwardly pushed myself to my feet, using the hands taped behind my back as leverage against the wall.

  “How much give you have around your ankles?” he asked quietly, watching as I shuffled my feet a little.

  “Not much,” I whispered. I moved toward him, but froze when he shook his head.

  “Pool table,” he said, tilting his head toward it. “Quiet as you can, baby.”

  I glanced over and my stomach rolled as I realized what he wanted me to do. At the edge of the table was the bloody pair of garden shears that our captor had tossed as he left. They weren’t pliers. I swallowed against the vomit rising in the back of my throat. They were heavy duty, curved scissors.

  Holding my breath, I pressed one foot forward an inch, then the other, trying not to lose my balance. As I got more confident, I moved a little faster and that’s when I tripped, landing hard on my knees. I held back a groan as I panted through the pain.

  I rocked back and forth a couple of times, trying to generate enough momentum that I could stand again, but it was no use. Refusing to give up, I shuffled forward on my knees. I was thankful that he was silent as I huffed and struggled. One small word of encouragement and I would’ve completely lost it.

  It took forever to get to the table, and when I reached it, I dropped my head against the wide leg. Then I turned onto my hip and used every ounce of energy I had left to grip the table as I pushed myself to standing.

  I stared in horror at the skin and blood coating the shears.

  How was I supposed to pick them up?

  Something thumped upstairs and I jerked.

  “Turn around and lean your ass against the table,” came the quiet words from behind me. “Then reach back and grab ’em.”

  I nodded and straightened my shoulders, looking away from the gore as I turned and did what he said. The shears were slick and I almost dropped them as I stepped away from the table.

  “Now what?” I asked, my heart racing.

  “Come to me.”

  I sagged in relief. I hadn’t touched him in so long, and the ten feet between his chair and my place against the wall had seemed further and further away the longer we were separated. I hated him a little, for making me stay where they’d shoved me—but I loved him for it, too. He was so determined to keep me safe that he hadn’t let me take the chance of being caught where I wasn’t supposed to be, even though both of us had suffered for it.

  Careful not to trip, I made my way toward him, everything inside me growing warmer and warmer as I got close to him. I refused to let the moment be ruined by how much worse his wounds looked up close, not when I’d begun to think that I would die in that basement without ever feeling him again.

  “My love,” I whispered tearfully as I leaned down, the words falling softly between us. I’d only ever used them in them in the darkest, quietest parts of the night, the sentiment too private and fragile to throw around recklessly. His gaze grew tender, the way it always did.

  “All tangled up,” he replied, tilting his head up so our lips could meet.

  Everything around us disappeared for that short moment, and I felt a burst of hope fill my chest. Maybe we could get out of this. Maybe, just maybe, we could leave this nightmare behind.

  “We have to hurry, baby,” he said as he pulled away, shattering the fragile moment like glass. I sniffled and rested my forehead against his for just a second before straightening up again.

  “Turn around and hand me those shears,” he said, his jaw firming. “In my right hand, alright?”

  “Your fingers,” I rasped, shaking my head.

  “Nothin’ for it,” he replied. “My left hand is shit. It’s gotta be my right.”

  I searched his face for any sign that he’d change his mind, then turned slowly until my back was to him. I closed my eyes and pictured the shears, gingerly turning them in my hands until the handle pointed toward his fingers. I groaned silently as my fingertips brushed against the gore covering the blade.

  “That’s it,” he whispered, “lean back just a little.”

  When the tool was safely in his grip, I inhaled deeply with relief.

  “I need you to lean down,” he ordered. “I’m gonna cut the tape right between your wrists.”

  Doing as he asked, I waited silently as I felt the duct tape pull. I didn’t make a sound as the sharp end of the blade dug into my skin and I felt blood drip down my hand.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t get a good grip,” he choked out. “Fuck.”

  “Keep going,” I whispered back. “Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t.”

  It felt like it took forever before my hands were free, but as soon as I felt the pressure ease I tugged hard. The pain in my previously numb arms was excruciating as I swung them a little. Twisting, I gently gripped the shears and pulled them from his mangled fingers.

  “No,” he said as I reached for the tape holding his arm to the chair. “Get the tape on your ankles before you fall over.”

  I didn’t think anything of his order as I bent over to release my ankles. Adrenaline was racing through my veins as I listened for any type of disturbance upstairs. This was the first time they’d left us alone for any length of time, and I knew that we probably didn’t have long before they came back.

  “Done,” I murmured as I straightened and reached for him again.

  “No, baby,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting mine. “Just you.”

  “What?” I asked in confusion. “No. What are you talking about? No.”

  “You gotta go.”

  “I’m not leaving you here,” I snapped, reaching for his arm again.

  “Goddammit, Rose,” he replied sharply. “Stop.”

  I froze.

  “I’m not going without you,” I said.

  “You have to.”

  “No,” I replied stubbornly around the lump in my throat. “No.”

  “There ain’t no way you can carry me up those stairs,” he whispered roughly. “And I won’t be able to make it.”

  “Why?” I looked down his body, and that’s when I saw the deep wound in his left thigh. My mind raced as I tried to remember when it had happened, but I couldn’t. He’d never made a sound. “Oh, God,” I breathed.

  “You have to go, baby.”

  “I can’t.” My body jerked as I held back a sob.

  “The only way I’m gettin’ out of here is if you go get the cavalry,” he said, his eyes growing glassy as he stared at me. “But, baby, if that don’t happen—”

  “Don’t,” I choked out, shaking my head.

  “If that don’t happ
en,” he repeated, ignoring my denial, “it’s enough to know that you’re safe. Alright? If you love me, you’ll get the hell out of here as fast as you can.”

  I couldn’t even nod as I stared into his eyes, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

  “Don’t look back, Rose,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t stop until you’re behind the gates.”

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I know you do,” he replied. “That’s why you’re gonna get out of here. Now, Rosie. Before they come back.”

  A sense of calm fell over me. I knew with absolute certainty that if I didn’t leave right then, I wouldn’t. I’d stay with him and let the chips fall where they may.

  “I’ll be back with the cavalry,” I whispered, as I kissed him gently. “You just hold out until we get here.”

  “I love you,” he replied. “Now, go.”

  I stumbled back a few steps, my eyes still on his. Then, before I could change my mind, I spun around and headed for the stairs. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

  The wooden stairway was sturdy and didn’t make any noise as I quietly made my way to the first floor of the house. When I got to the top, I gripped the shears in my hand and peeked around the corner into the empty kitchen. That’s when I spotted a door to the outside, just feet away from where I was standing.

  A bead of sweat rolled down my back as I tiptoed toward the door. There was a lacy curtain covering the top half of the window, and I could just barely see the outline of a blue car in the driveway. I opened the door gingerly, turning the knob so slowly that I felt a little click when the latch disengaged.

  As soon as I’d stepped out onto the porch, everything inside me froze. It felt like everything happened in slow motion as the guy who’d been sitting on the edge of the steps smoking a cigarette reached for my leg and I brought up the pruning shears and buried them in his right eye.

  It was the most revolting thing I’d ever seen or felt in my life, and I almost screamed as he reached for it, trying to pry it out of his face. Instead, I jumped off the porch and ran to the car.