Page 31 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

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From: AcesAndEights

Subject: re: Why do they call you Ace?

Because I win the game, because I’m valuable, and because I’m the best. Your girlfriend just walked into the building. You’re welcome. Now fuck off and leave me alone.

I flip my chair and sprint toward the front door, snatching up my keys as I pass. Skidding to a stop and pressing an eye to the peephole, I refuse to blink as I blindly pull my shoes on. The laces remain undone, the socks uncomfortably bunched, but I don’t give a fuck, because she’s coming up.

I can’t see her. I can’t hear her. But my heart slams in my chest as I wait for Sophia the Wise and Peaceful to show her face for the first time in a week.

I give it a minute because she has four flights to walk, but when one minute turns to two, then that turns into three and four, I find myself pouting and wondering if Ace lied just to get rid of me.

That motherfucker would, too.

I don’t want to spend the night alone. I’m a social creature; I enjoy crowds, fart jokes, and beautiful women. I enjoy eating meals and talking with intelligent people, and the fact Sophia outsmarts me each time we speak turns me on in ways wildly different than how her body affects me.

Opening the door and pulling it shut at my back, I step to the staircase railing and lean over. “Hey, Soph? You here?”

“Fuck.” Whispering, she slams something against the brick wall and pants loud enough, I turn to the landing and take the stairs three at a time. “Shit,” she murmurs. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

I round the second flight and skid to a stop when I find her struggling beneath a tall stack of file boxes. She leans against the wall and cusses while she tries to balance them. They look heavy as fuck, and the top box is skewed too far to the left.

If she moves, she’s going to lose it.

“Jesus, Soph. What the hell are you doing?” Stepping forward, I reseat the top box so they’re all stacked securely, then I take the top two and leave her with the third.

Sophia Solomon isn’t the kind of girl who wants to be saved. She’s not a damsel who needs all her shit carried, and if I tried, she’d shoot me in the back. So I takemostof her load, but leave her with enough that she can’t reach for her gun. Turning, I wait for her to follow me up. “This is a lot of weight, Soph. How the hell did you expect to get it all upstairs yourself?”

“I was doing just fine without you,” she grumbles. “Just pop them on the stairs, and I’ll do it in a couple loads.”

“Not likely, Sugar Plum. I’ll help you. Come on.” Using my nose, I dislodge the lid from my top box and try to peek into the dark insides. “What’s in here, anyway?”

“Don’t look!” Skilled, she carries her box and kicks the back of my legs until they almost buckle. “Ever heard of private? Confidential? None of your fucking business?” Moving up two steps ahead of me, she stops and turns back so we stand eye to eye. Using her nose the way I used mine, she nudges the lid back on and glowers at my chuckle. “It’s my work, and it’s not for you to look at. If you can’t respect that, then put it down and go away.”

“But if you do this in multiple trips, how will you know I didn’t look while you were gone?”

“You’re a jerk,” she snaps. “Why can’t you just be a regular jerk who doesn’t open doors and stares at my boobs, instead of an infuriating jerk who thinks he’s funnier than he really is?”

“I’m funny.” Pouting, I step to the left and keep moving up the stairs. “I don’t know why you’ve gotta insult my humor. It never did anything to you.”

“It did too much to me,” she grumbles. “All the dancer jokes.” Falling into step so our shoulders brush, we take up the whole staircase as we move up. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Here, in this apartment building?” Our eyes meet. “Well, I live here. Duh.”

“No. Here in this staircase,” she snaps. “I was doing fine without you, Jay. In fact, I was doing fine in this building before you moved in, too. I remember the good old days when I didn’t know my neighbors, and I could take a shower and not worry that a thug would let himself in whenever he damn well pleases.”

“Are you inviting me in while you shower?” We step onto the third floor and continue up. “Because I was being one of those new-age jerks where we don’t wander into an occupied bathroom without permission, but if you’re saying the option is there…” I meet her eyes and lick my lips. “I’d die to see you wet and naked, babe. I haven’t touched a woman in too fuckin’ long, so if you’re offering…”

“I’m not.” We turn onto my floor. “You can stop here. I’m fine on my own.”

Tilting my head to the side, I mock her. “But you can’t move all three boxes on your own. How could you possibly trust me not to peek inside while you take that one up?”

Her eyes glitter with rage. They do that so often when I’m around, but every time, I see the hunger in them, too. She wants me as much as I want her; she just refuses to slum with the thug. “I hate you for making it so I can’t trust you.”

“Au contraire, babe. I’ve had access to your apartment this whole time, and trust me, it was a hardship, because I know what your body looks like in a leotard. I haven’t snuck into your bed once; that says willpower of a fuckin’ saint. That says you can trust me with your life.”

Soph wears tight jeans like always and a black leather jacket with a high collar. Her long hair is tied up in a bun on the top of her head; you can take the ballerina out of the dance studio, but you can’t take the ballerina out of the girl. Her bag hangs over her side like usual, and keys hang from her left hand.

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