Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck Book 8)

by Emilia Finn

  “I never stopped loving you.” I kiss her back. Tongue for tongue, bite for bite. “I never let you go.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not enough,” she whimpers. “I can’t be what you need, but I can’t move on either.”

  “You’re enough.” I leave her lips, and go back to her throat. “Dammit, Q. You were always enough. You just had to accept what I was trying to give you.”

  “I can’t.” She studies my abs, my chest, my shoulders. She doesn’t go lower, but she hesitates around my pecs. Like my growth over the last four years surprises her. My hard work inside my own gym comes unexpected. “Hopes and dreams, Jamie. They’re lies. They’re all lies that stupid people tell themselves so they can get through another day of the monotony they hate.”

  “No, it’s not.” I shake my head. “I love you, Cam. And I can’t undo that, no matter how hard I try.”

  Her lips stop. Her hands. Her heart. “Cam…” Her breath races between us, hot, potent, intoxicating. But the possession she had a moment ago strips away. Gone, so the only thing that remains is another memory.

  “Cam…” Dropping her head back, she looks up at the starlit sky and laughs. Except it’s not a ‘ha-ha’ laugh, but the kind that precedes a complete mental breakdown. “Cam was never real, Jamie. She was a lie.”

  “She’s right here in my arms.”

  “Cameron was a made-up name,” she argues quietly. “It was all a lie.” She scoffs cruelly. “You haven’t figured that out yet?”

  “The name may be as fictional as Special Agent Andy Cruz, but I’m still standing here, I’m still right in front of you. It’s not the name,” I plead. “It’s the heart.”

  “Yeah. Except,” she unwraps her legs from around my hips and slides back to the ground. “When shit was hot and heavy, and you were declaring your feelings, you said Cam. You want that girl back, you want that love back. You want what we lost back, but it doesn’t exist anymore.”

  Sad, she shakes her head and exhales. “It’s impossible, Jamie. Even if the names had stayed the same, we’ve changed over these years. We have, our hearts have, our actions have. I’ve moved on.” She pats my chest, and moves out from between me and the car. “I went to you as a virgin. You want that unspoiled girl back, but she doesn’t exist.”

  Then, to dig the knife in further, to twist it, she points down her trim body and flattens her lips. “This girl has been around the block. Dozens and dozens of times. What you had before and what you’d get now… are not the same thing. Let’s go.”

  She moves around the SUV and opens her door. “I’m starving. And I’m not really interested in yearning for a guy I once loved. There are a billion more in the world, and they all come with less emotional baggage.”

  Quinn

  Time Goes On

  We stopped in a hotel last night that was much the same as the run-down place from the night before. Jamie plans ahead, books these roadside places, pays over the phone or online, has the room opened and the key left on the table. And because of his forethought, he never has to walk inside a reception space with a bruised face and a girl handcuffed to his arm.

  Solid plan for him. But it provides me with no chances to escape.

  The one time I could have run, I ran back to him. Because I’m a sucker. And now we know what happens when I think with my heart and not my head.

  Fuck him for still having that power over me.

  My objective has always been to keep Will safe. To protect my single ally, to keep the enemy away. But because of Jamie, Will is now all alone back home, and every minute that passes, I’m taken further and further away from my brother, making it harder for me to return.

  I need to get back home, to walk into Zeus’, and to find out what the hell Evan McGrady’s connection is to what’s going on with my brother.

  It seems too random, too much of a coincidence. It all seems too horrible, and if it’s all true, then I have a whole lot of thinking to do. The soul-searching kind, the ‘what the hell have you been doing with your life’ kind. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of heaviness.

  “Bubbles?” Will’s voice rumbles through the car speakers. “You there?”

  “Yeah.” I’ve been cuffed to Jamie’s wrist again, but I sit on my side of the car, lean against the door, and stare out into the passing trees as they whip by. “I’m here. I’m eating and sleeping and drinking water and all that shit.”

  “Where are you guys?”

  I shrug. It’s not like he can see me, but it’s all the energy I can muster. “Somewhere with lots of trees.”

  “Bubbles…”

  “If I go missing, it was Jamie who murdered me, and he buried my body somewhere in these woods.”

  “It’s fuckin’ tempting,” Jamie grumbles.

  He’s still mad about my rejection last night. Really mad.

  “I could hit up a farming store in one of these towns we pass, get a shovel, get rid of your whining ass once and for all.”

  I turn in time to catch sight of his grinding jaw.

  “My life would be easier,” he continues. “And I’d have the closure I came looking for.”

  “So pull over, Secretary. Let me out.”

  “Do not pull over,” Will growls. “Let her out, and I’ll come at you with the shovel, Kincaid.”

  “Mind your business, Will!” I let my legs drop from the seat to the car floor, and spin toward the dash, the direction of his voice. “Mind your own business! He doesn’t want me, you don’t want me. Sounds like a good time for me to get out and start walking. I might find me a truck driver who wants an ol’ lady.”

  “Those are bikers, dummy,” Will huffs. “No truck drivers, no bike gangs. Just stay in the fuckin’ car with Kincaid, and get your ass where you’re supposed to be going.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Will, but I’m not a child anymore. I don’t have to do shit just because you said so.”

  “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Quinn, but you’re gonna do as you’re damn well told, even when you’re forty. Sit your ass down, stay in that car, stop pissing off the driver. And when this is all done, maybe I’ll get to see you again.”

  “Wait. What?” My heart pounds a heavy beat in my chest. “Maybe? Maybe you’ll get to see me?” Panicked, I look to Jamie. “What do you mean maybe?”

  “Someone is looking to put me down, Bubbles. They want me locked away. If they can’t get that, then the next logical step is to take me out.”

  “What? So why are you still there?” I burst out. “Dammit, Will. Why didn’t you come with us?”

  Like it’s the most natural move in the world, Jamie turns his hand, and takes mine so we’re not just cuffed together, but our fingers intertwine. From imprisonment to a hug, he drives one-handed and holds my hand to bring me comfort.

  “I can’t come with you, Bubbles, because then nothing changes. I’m still a wanted felon, but it’s worse now, because Nate’s remains have been found. We’d still be in hiding, we’d still be wanted, and we would still be forced to use fake names and shit.”

  I imagine him now, sitting in a recliner, and rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

  “We can’t go on like that, so it’s time for this to come to a head. We find out the who and the why, then we take care of it. When it’s done, we’ll both be free, and then I can come back and get you.”

  I hate that tears well in my eyes. They blur my vision, and make my eyes itchy. I hate that I sit in this fancy car in the middle of nowhere with a man I love with my whole fucking heart, and Will is somewhere else, effectively homeless, and all alone.

  “What did we do so wrong to deserve this?” I whisper. “Why was karma already mad at us even before I was born?”

  Will sighs and does the face rubbing thing again. I can hear his palm brushing over the stubble of his jaw.

  “I don’t know, Bubbles. I don’t know why the universe wants to hurt us. But I swear I’m trying to cushion the blow. You were wrong the
other day when you said that I would go into hiding once I got you away from the danger.” He sighs again. “You’re gone now, Bubbles, and you’re safe with Kincaid, but I’m not disappearing. I’m gonna call you every single day to check in.”

  “I’m so mad at you,” I whimper. “I’ve never been so mad in my life.”

  “I know,” he admits quietly. “But sometimes, I have to be the parent instead of the friend. I have to do what is right for you, rather than what you want. It’s the way it has to be.”

  “I’m so mad,” I repeat. “But I love you. So it’s really important to me that you stay safe and tie this up really fast.”

  “Doin’ my best,” he replies. “Swear I am.”

  “Is Sophia helping you?”

  “Yeah. I was talking to her just before I called you. She said she’s tugging on some threads. Fuck knows what that means, but—”

  “Just trust her,” Jamie inserts. “She’s your ticket outta this mess. So whatever it is she’s doing, she’s doing it to help you. She’s a genius, and she doesn’t miss. Follow her instructions, and she’ll fix it.”

  “Yeah,” Will murmurs. “I barely know the chick, but I don’t have a lot of choice at this point. So I’ll listen, I’ll let her lead me around like a fuckin’ puppet. And at the end…”

  “She’ll keep you alive,” Jamie says firmly. “I’m certain of it. Not one single person she intended to keep has died on the job. And that includes a guy who took a bullet in the brain.”

  “Wait.” My heart stops. “What?”

  “Yeah,” Will repeats. “What? Because I’m not sure I’m willing to test if the first time was a fluke.”

  “Ask Soph about her man John D. Hamilton,” Jamie says. “Ask her about the muscle she had, and how he took a bullet to the brain. He’s a little weird these days, but he’s still kicking.”

  “A little weird?” Will screeches. “I’m not willing to be a little weird, Kincaid!”

  “Relax,” Jamie chuckles. “I doubt that’ll happen twice. It was once-in-a-lifetime type stuff. Just…” He pulls my hand to his thigh and relaxes into his seat. “Just chill, follow Soph’s instructions, and finish this shit. Whoever is fucking with you has stolen a massive chunk of your life already. Are you really willing to give them more?”

  “No,” Will declares on a low growl. “No, we’re done letting this fucker waste our time.” He pauses a moment, purposely works on changing his tone. “How long until you get back to town?”

  Jamie glances at the GPS screen embedded in the middle of the dash, then out to a large, brown road sign telling us what town is next. “Tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow night at the latest.”

  “And your family knows you’re incoming? They know you’re bringing Bubbles back?”

  “Yeah. Don’t sweat them. No one is gonna snitch.”

  “You have cops for uncles,” Will barks. “It’s literally their job to snitch.”

  “They’re not gonna be a problem for you,” Jamie promises. “My family knows we’re coming, and they know what’s at stake. That’s all that matters. No one is gonna snitch. What’s happening on your end?”

  Will makes a sound in the back of his throat. A type of garbled ‘dunno’. “Soph says she’s planning something for tomorrow night. Some meet at the docks.”

  “Wait.” I push closer to the dash. “A meet? You’re just gonna go to the docks in the dark and meet people who may or may not be there to put a bullet in your brain?”

  “I really hope they don’t have guns,” Will chuckles dryly. “Weirdness aside, I bet a bullet hole doesn’t tickle.”

  “Dammit, Will! This isn’t funny.”

  He snorts. “I don’t think it’s funny at all, Bubbles. This is the least funny thing I’ve ever fuckin’ experienced. Listen,” he sighs. “I’ve gotta go. Someone’s calling me, and if it’s Soph, she’s gonna be mad that I missed her contact.”

  “Don’t go to that meet,” I rush out in a panic. “Don’t go to the docks in the middle of the night. That’s a suicide mission if I ever heard one.”

  “I’m gonna do what Soph tells me to do, unless it sounds really stupid. For now, I’m listening.” His voice turns faster, more insistent. “I’ve gotta go. But I’ll call again tomorrow.”

  “Will!”

  “I love you, Bubbles. Be good, and stop trying to get Kincaid arrested.”

  “Probably tell her to stop kicking me, too.”

  “Nah.” Will jokes. “I’m gonna let her make that decision for herself. But hey, Kincaid?”

  He grunts. “Yeah?”

  “Kick her back, and you’re a dead man.”

  “Yeah,” he replies on another grunt. “Can’t say it’s not tempting. I know I’m not supposed to hurt girls, but I swear, sometimes a special someone deserves a kick in the face just so she can feel the pain she inflicts on others.”

  Will chuckles. “I don’t disagree. But I’ll kill you if you give in to that urge. Lock it down, get her home, lock her up until I come for her. See ya, Bubbles. Love you.”

  “Will! No!” I cry out when the call goes dead and music once again fills the car “Will!”

  “He’s gone.” Jamie presses a button on the steering wheel to turn the music down. “But you heard him. Sit down, shut up, behave. He’s taking care of business.”

  “He’s walking into a trap!” I growl. “Jamie, he’s walking into an ambush.”

  “No,” he sighs. “He’s not. The only traps Soph sets are to fuck up the other guy. Will is in good hands.”

  Yeah, he’ll be in good hands once I can escape this car and get my ass back there to stop him from walking toward his own death.

  “Settle in,” Jamie murmurs. “We’ll stop in a couple hours for dinner.”

  “So, you’ve got a couple choices…”

  Jamie pulls the SUV into a parking lot outside a bar that looks to be at about half capacity. Trucks, motorcycles, and cars take up space around us; all of them are dusty. The light above the bar flashes and flickers, and the front door swings from partiers passing in and out.

  “We’re staying at the hotel a few blocks up. The room is ready, and our key is sitting inside waiting for us. We can eat here, sit inside, chill the fuck out for a minute, and watch folks make dicks of themselves because they’ve been drinking.”

  “Sounds like a blast,” I drawl. “Next.”

  “Or there’s a fast food joint just back there.” He pokes a thumb over his shoulder. “We passed it on the way in. We can get something in the drive-thru and take it back to our room. I’m pretty wrecked after all the face-kicking nonsense, so…”

  “So greasy food in a shitty room, or greasy food in a bar?”

  “That’s what I’m sayin’.” He lifts a brow. “Dealer’s choice.”

  I consider my options. I can go into the bar, and escape out the bathroom window, or I can go to the hotel, and escape out the bathroom window. Basically, all of my plans involve windows and then lots and lots of running.

  I look down to my hand – strangely, my fingers are still woven with Jamie’s. It’s as though, after a while, I decided I’d rather hold his hand than be proud. And hell, but that’s a massive concession from a woman as proud as me.

  “Q?”

  I look back up and study Jamie’s warm chocolate eyes. The wrinkled V that sits between his brows that wasn’t there four years ago. The rough stubble on his jaw. Then I nod. “Inside, please. I think I wanna see people make dicks of themselves.”

  He blows out a soft, breathy laugh. “Alright. I’m gonna have to uncuff you, but I swear, if you run, I might reconsider the no kicking rule.”

  I nod and watch as he grabs the single key and slides it into the lock at my wrist. He frees me from my restraint, frees himself too, and then meeting my eyes – one last warning – he turns away and pushes his door open.

  I don’t want to run yet. I’m hungry, and dying for a little space outside this car, so I slide out and behave myself. I reach my arms to the sky
and smile a little when my left shoulder doesn’t hurt too bad.

  I mean, it hurts, but I seem to be adapting to it now. Sad, strange reality, but I’m nothing if not resilient.

  Jamie comes around to my side while I’m stretching, which means his eyes automatically drop to the inch of belly now exposed because my top has ridden up. I could tease him that he still looks at me. That he’s still attracted. That he couldn’t say no if I told him to take me to bed. But hell, there hasn’t been much more than a minute since this all began when I wasn’t looking at him, too.

  Maybe my brain says I want out… but that doesn’t mean my heart and hormones are listening.

  Bringing my arms down and fixing my top, I step into his space and wind my arm around his. The irony is rich – from one restraint to another – but for now, for the next hour, we can be allies.

  “Did you start dating another boy-name-for-a-girl after I left?”

  He shakes his head and leads me through the front entrance until we’re assaulted with loud music and cigarette smoke. I guess out here, they still smoke in bars. “Nope. Can’t say I took a second look at one single chick after you left.”

  “Not one?” I glance up and study the underside of his jaw while he leads me to a booth in the far corner. We pass a crowded pool table. A long bar with all but one or two stools already holding someone’s ass. “Not one single chick? Not even an angry fuck in a closet somewhere so you could get back at me?”

  He stops beside an empty booth and pushes me in. No hesitation, no consideration for what I want or where I want to sit. “Nope. I was a scorned man, Q. I wasn’t in the mood for closet fucking.”

  He’s still scorned. Still angry.

  “Why do you call me Q?”

  He shrugs and accepts a couple of menus when a server comes by our table, and orders two Cokes – without asking what I want. He then opens his menu, and sits back so his arm rests on my shoulders.

  Comfortable?

  “I call you Q because your real name, the one you were born with, is Quinn.”