Page 1 of Ace

Chapter 1

Lizzie

King’s Tavern was a biker bar. Everyone in Vegas knew that, just like everyone in Vegas knew when it burned to the ground.

It was all over the local news at the time.

Lizzie couldn’t have missed it, but months after the fact she was still showing up every other Monday at 4:30 on the dot, expecting to make a delivery. The stop was so ingrained in her, she did it without thinking.

And just like the time before, today when she pulled up, she was shocked to see a pile of rubble where the bar once stood.

The worst part of it was that she’d known these guys for years, looked forward to seeing them every other week and then one day they were just gone. No way to reach them. No idea how or what they were doing, just gone.

“Fuck,” Lizzie swore as she hopped out of her family’s delivery truck and walked around the lot like it would give her some sort of clue.

She felt stupid and laughed at herself. Why did she care so much? She was sure they weren’t sitting around wondering where she was or how she was doing. She probably wouldn’t care this much if it were another of her customers.

If she were honest with herself, she knew exactly why she missed them. Big, burly indulgent bikers who treated her like she was still a child. Walking into King’s Tavern had always felt sort of what she imagined it might be like to indulge her well-hidden Little side if only for a moment.

Staring off into the pile of rubble, she noticed something she was sure hadn’t been there the last time she stopped.

At the entrance to the pile of wood and ash, and scorched belongings stood a small yellow signboard.

What the heck?

Trudging across the lot, she approached the messy pile of dashed dreams and kept going until she was close enough to read the block lettering on the sign.

We Miss You! Come see us at our new location, Daddy’s Bar and Grill, inside the newly opened Utopia Resort.

Daddy’s Bar and Grill? Her heart skipped a beat. It was an odd name for a biker bar. And Utopia? Lizzie knew what Utopia was. All of Las Vegas did. The locals had been protesting its opening for months. Lizzie had been daydreaming of finding a Daddy of her own and visiting one day. It wasn’t the sort of place she’d go on her own. In fact, she was pretty sure it was one of the rules of the place.

Of course, she didn’t have to go as a Little. She could go as herself, just to say hi. After all, hadn’t she just been handed an engraved invitation?

It sure looks like one to me, Lizzie thought as she hopped in her truck to finish out the day’s deliveries.

As she drove away, she had only one thought. Who the heck put a biker bar in the middle of a Littles Resort? How in the hell had that happened?

The question ran through her mind on repeat as she slowly drove toward the newly-renovated resort. Were the guys she’d known for years Daddies? Axel was for sure. She didn’t have to know much about the lifestyle to see that. And King… maybe, if he ever found a woman who measured up to his precious Lorna… but Ace?

She shifted in her seat as moisture pooled between her thighs. If he was… she wanted to find out. And she wanted to be his.

As she was about to turn into the lot for Utopia parking, a familiar figure tore by on a souped-up, bright yellow Harley, headed downtown.

Interesting. Turning at the light, she followed.

Ace

Crack!

Ace heard bones breaking as he smashed his fist into the bastard’s face. It was a satisfying sound, but it did nothing to quell the rage brewing inside him. Crack! Crack!

Crack! Ace winced as the asshole’s fist connected with his cheekbone. He might have gotten one good hit in, but Ace was determined not to let it happen again. With a feral growl, he bum-rushed the man, throwing him up against the brick wall that was the exterior of some downtown diner, and grabbed his neck.

“You fucking bastard,” he growled, pulling his fist back, priming to land another punch. He’d work the dickwad’s face over until it was bruised and bloody and he was missing teeth and then move on to the rest of him.

The jury hadn’t provided justice, so he would.

Crack! Smash! Bam! Again and again, he plowed his fist into flesh, crushing bones, breaking blood vessels and splitting skin. His knuckles hurt, but the acknowledgment was a distant thought. He didn’t care about his own pain or injuries. He could never use his hand again and it would be worth it.