Her Wicked Desire

3: Visiting a friend

ACE

Three days later

Metal bars open with an awful buzzing sound that I've gotten used to hearing. After several visits, who wouldn’t adapt to the painful screech of prison bars being forced apart. Especially one in maximum security.

My feet glide smoothly on the floors as I’m led to a private area. I know my way around but they don’t trust me enough to let navigate this place alone. I wonder what they think I’ll do. Break someone out? Please. The only reason I come here is to see my best friend. Nothing else. And I keep it private. The media would have a field day if they found out pro boxer Ace Hendrix pays monthly visits to the Irongate Institution.

I don’t even want to imagine the headline or how that’ll affect my career.

“Remember the rules, Mister. Stay on your side of the table, and don’t make any attempt to touch the prisoner. Not even his fingers. Do so and the officer watching has the right to zap you with three thousand bolts of electricity, ya understand?”

I only nod my head once. It’s the same old thing every time. They tell me the rules, and search me a third time. I’m not allowed to bring in any device, not even a cell phone. And whatever I’m permitted to take in, has to be searched for chips, small blades, flash drives, knives…..etc. I have to hold back from rolling my brown eyes in their sockets. Once she’s done with her third search, her fist smacks the big red button opening the door and letting me into the mostly empty room.

Three officers stand by the wall, facing the table where a tall, big build man with bronze skin tone, sits, drinking a glass of clear liquid. Probably vodka.

His head rises once the door closes with heavy bang as the locks click into place.

“Ace, my dearest pal.” I mirror the smile on his face, taking six long strides to where he his. No chains, no glass between us. Just an empty room with a table and two chairs. My hand reaches for his, and he grabs it. We shake like the best of buddies, which is what we are.

“Marcel!” I holler back. My ass plops on the metal chair, he looks calmer than the last time. His grey strands have been dyed to match his black hair.

Marcel Cisneros, my godfather and best friend. The man who raised me and showed me the right way to succeed. He led me down the path to becoming the man I am today, I owe him everything.

“How’s my sweet baby doing?” he asks, taking the final swig from his glass. He waves it up for the officers to see, one steps out from the line with a bottle in hand and pours him a new fill of…I was right, vodka. He drinks that thing like water.

The man returns to his position, his task is completed. I’m marveled till this day by how Marcel was quick to turn this prison into his new house. Getting control of the warden within weeks, and taking down the deadliest guy here- gaining the other prisoners respect through fear. He is indeed a man who knows how to make the best out of the worst situation.

“She’s good, turning eighteen in four days. Her training can finally begin.” My reply comes off nonchalant, I don’t want him hearing anything else in my voice.

In truth, she is fine. Fine as f**k….uh I mean that mentally, and- umm physically.... doing okay? Jesus, what am I? five?

I’m able to refrain from letting out a sigh.

“That is wonderful news. I’m excited to see my baby girl take her thrown. The Cisneros Cartel has been quiet for too long.” He says in a biting tone. Not too happy about his empire having to lay low. I could have handled things for him but he only asked that I protect his daughter- a job I was doing well until she turned into a sexy goddess- and that I keep watch over every move his right hand makes. She needs my permission to do anything, this way she’ll never forget that she’s just a substitute.

I’m not sure how I feel about Avalon having that responsibility on her shoulders, but I also know that Marcel won’t change his mind. God, I'm acting like she's my sub with how overprotective I am. Get your head straight, she's more like a kid you're babysitting.

“Well, it won’t be for long. Once her training is complete, you can sign it over to her.”

“Mmm, yes, but I would like you to get her present from Cisco.” He says, gauging my reaction with amusement in his eyes.

My brow arches up, giving him a questioning glance. Did he just say what I think he said? No wonder he's amused, he knows how I'm going to react.

“Don’t look so surprised, Ace. Cisco has the box, it’s high time she got her gifts. But she has to open it on the day of her birthday. Not before.” He instructs, his tone light and airy like he isn’t talking about giving his daughter something worse than a gun for her birthday. My head shakes with laughter, Avalon had asked me over and over why her father chose to give her a custom made, black & gold, pistol for her sixteenth birthday.

My answer to that was simple; It's Marcel. What did you expect?

“Alright, I’ll visit him with Rafi tomorrow.” Silence drags on a little after that. I want to tell him about my win, that I’ve done what I’ve always wanted to do.

He looks up for a bit, his blue eyes staring at me like he knows. My chuckle is deep, running up my throat and out my mouth. “How does it feel, Fearless? Your biggest goal has been accomplished. You must feel like the world is your bitch.” He flashes me a toothy grin.

“Yes, I f*****g do! Did you see me?! I f*****g did it! Mann.” He laughs, fueling my soul with happiness.

“I saw that, I wouldn’t miss one of your matches. When you knocked Edison clean off his feet, I thought; that’s my f*****g boy!” I felt honored hearing the imperious arrogance in his voice. I bet he bragged about it, it wouldn’t be the first time. Marcel adores me more than I do him.

Which is one of the reasons I’m disgusted with myself. Harboring any sort of feelings towards his daughter is wrong. He would be disappointed in me. I’ve never received that emotion from him, and I don’t plan on getting it any time soon. No matter how hard it is, I will continue to resist Avalon’s pull. My friendship matters the most.

“I bet you bragged about that.”

“Damn right I did! I had them play it on all the televisions in this whole goddamn place.” The smug way he smiles warms my soul. Yep, being the champion feels great. But not as much as getting a praise from Marcel.

We chat for a couple more hours, catching up on everything that’s happened since my last visit, the plans for Avalon’s birthday, and a new schedule for me. I run Underground and Crimson Layers for him. It’s a lot of work to handle those two and juggle my career, as well as taking care of his daughter, but I’ve found a peaceful balance.

The conversation quickly ends with questions about Avalon, and soon he says I’m free to go. Although I don’t want too, I don’t mind chatting endlessly with him there’s still so much to learn. But if I plan on making it back home to Washington then I have no choice but to leave when he commands it.

****Tired legs drag me along the tiles of the hall, the jet had landed in the Mansion two hours ago. The sun has called it quits, and now the moon rained supreme. Staring down on all of us, surrounded by sparkling balls of gas making up the stars that light up the night’s sky. The view from the balcony was nice, but I didn't stay for long.

I cross a large mirror hanging off the walls, it's right next to the trophy wall. My laughter is stifled as I stare at my wins laying along with Marcels successes, and Avalon’s track trophies. One picture in particular grabs my full attention, I remember that day. It was the day before she changed from the shy, timid girl, getting the harsh end of her classmates words to a fierce viper with poison that can kill in an instant.

I was shocked, I'm not gonna lie. The little girl that hid behind her father towering form, changed to a sexy bronze skinned devil making the worst people into her lap dogs. I pinch my nose, thinking about the first fight she won. Something flipped within her. She no longer takes s**t from anyone. Giving into her primal instincts, she truly is Marcel’s daughter. But there’s still a lot for her to learn before she can take over her position as the head of the Cisneros Cartel. There’s still some softness in her, she tries to hid it but she can’t fool me. That is a dangerous thing to possess, Marcel showed no fear to anyone. He would kill and not bat an eye at who the person was, Avalon isn't like that. She's sweet, underneath all of this. It'll weigh heavily on her conscious if she had to do the things her father did. I have to teach her how to block that out....this means we'll be spending alot more time together.

A slow breath flows into my mouth, It clears most of the dirty thoughts from my mind. Innocent, Marcel still calls his daughter innocent. If only he knew.

That word doesn’t suit Avalon anymore. Yes, she holds some semblance of purity in her but not in the way he thinks. The things that girl has said, and worn, f**k if that’s what the world is now calling innocent then there’s no way I can survive. I wonder where she learnt all of that. Movies, books... probably the latter, she reads alot.

My eyes shift from the trophies to the mirror. I admire myself happily, I know I’m hot. Yes, being confident never killed anyone. I haven’t seen any man better looking that I am. With inks that tell stories and eyes as unique as mine, I'm a magnet- luring women of all kinds to me like they're in some kind of hypnotic trance. The grey sweats hang low on my waist showing a proud six pack, and a V line I worked for. I have just enough muscles to make me look dangerously good, but not too much that I’d look unhealthy or pumped with steroids.

My brown hair falls to my face, wet with water. I should've dried it. I shove my rough, bandaged hands into my pockets and walk off. Continuing my stride to my destination. Avalon’s room. At the end off the hall, a large door stands tall with flowers set elegantly around its edges. A sign hangs on it saying; Unless you're Ace Hendrix, I don't see why you should be knocking on my door.

I should have her take that down, but I like it. My stomach tightens from the possessiveness, it's like I own her.

Before I can knock, the door flies open. My breath hooks in my throat, and my brain goes into an instant malfunction, unable to process anything. A smooth arm plants itself on the door, her body curves pushing her hips out for me to see. She places the other hand on it, and cheekily giggles. A bright pink jacket dangles off her shoulders, resting on the elbows of her arms. My eyes find it impossible to look away from the matching pajamas. When did she buy this? Who permitted this? Those pants are too short to be classified as pants, they're no different from a regular underwear.

The thin singlet on the inside of the jacket leaves nothing for me to imagine, should she be wearing this? No, I can see the goosebumps on her skin. I feel the cold air permeating from the air conditioner is the cause of that. The room's temperature is almost icy, yet she’s dressed like it’s a hot summer’s day, and she’s in desperate need of a way to cool off.

I just spoke to her father today, what the f**k is happening to me? I am her guardian, and somewhat protector, I need to act like it.

“You have school tomorrow, shouldn’t you be asleep?” I ask, like I always do on a Sunday night. My hands are craving to grab her soft body, slam her against a nearby wall, and take her in the worst way possible. I want to mark that exposed skin as mine. What I wouldn’t give to watch her unravel under my touch, sweating and panting from a desire I know only I can give her.

“I was just about too, then I thought I’d check up on you.” Her bright white teeth shows, as she flashes me a seductive grin that shoots blood from my veins to my c**k, making it throb into a firm hardness. Her blue eyes dance with happiness and unfiltered desire. My face remains devoid of any emotion, refusing to expose the confusing emotions swirling through me.

I don’t know when my fingers reached for her, but they do. Clasping onto the jacket. She moved closer, thinking I was going to do something intimate. But instead, I pulled the jacket close, and connected the zipper. Dragging it up until it reached the very top.

“Get some rest, Avalon. And turn down the thermostat, it's too cold in here.” My voice comes out in a hushed tone, I’m unable to add more to that. I move away from her room and turn, walking back the way I came.

What is happening to me? I'm acting like I'm seventeen again, unable to keep my cool. When I was wild, chaotic, and caused problems. I need to keep myself in check.