Pawns In The Bishop's Game

by Emilia Finn

  “Fuck.” Instead of touching her leg, I dig into the pocket against mine and pull out the cell I have to answer. If I don’t answer, I’m a dead man. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I slam the phone against my ear. “What?”

  “Get off that pretty girl, Kane. You have work to do.”

  “Fuck off, Jay. I’m off until tonight.”

  “You’re never off, playa.” Laughing, the telltale click of his lighter makes me crave a cigarette like I already fucked the beautiful woman beside me. Snagging her hand before she bolts, I twine our fingers and anchor her to the stool.

  “What do you want?”

  “Just checking in. Didn’t want you to get arrested for having sex in public.”

  “If you know what’s happening, then why are you checking in?”

  Chuckling, he blows out a noisy puff of smoke. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “You ain’t my friend, asshole.”

  “Aww, you mad, bruh? Take her home. Take it out of public.”

  I tug on Jess’ arm and drag her laser focus away from her milkshake. Lowering my phone, I press a gentle kiss to her temple. “Stay right here. I’ve just gotta step outside for a sec. Don’t move.”

  Her narrowed eyes follow my arm to the phone on the end. “You’re working?”

  “Yes, but I’ll be right outside. I’ll still be able to see you, okay? Don’t get into a gun fight, don’t get hurt, and don’t go anywhere.”

  “You said you don’t have to work until tonight.”

  “Just two minutes, Blondie, then I’ll be back.”

  Angrily, she turns back to her untouched breakfast and gives me the cold shoulder.

  She’s not mad I’m taking a call.

  She’s mad I’m a criminal.

  “Two minutes. I promise.” I slide off the stool and gently squeeze the back of her neck. Brushing her hair aside, I drop my lips to the bumps at the top of her spine and turn away. As soon as I push through the glass door, I bring my phone up and look around the deserted parking lot. “What the fuck?”

  “I just got you in trouble, huh? She’s a clinger?”

  “No. She’s fuckin’ perfect. And now she’s pissed.”

  “Why’s she pissed? I just saved you both a public lewdness charge.”

  “She’s pissed because I’m a fucking criminal! She’s trying to get me a job in her friend’s garage because she doesn’t want me to die while hanging out with assholes like you.”

  “Aww.” He laughs. “She’s a sweetie pie. She’s pretty, too; fuckin’ gorgeous, to be precise. She got a sister?”

  I turn and watch her through the glass. “Shut the fuck up, Jay. You aren’t getting near her or anyone else with blonde hair. Now tell me what you want.”

  “You want me to shut up, or you want me to talk?” Laughing, he chokes on cigarette smoke and slams a fist against his chest – something I’ve seen him do a million times before. “Fine, I’ll get serious. But just for the record, you’re putting her in danger. Our world ain’t safe for her.”

  “You think I don’t know that? You think I want her in danger? I have one friend inside that club. One guy who won’t put a bullet in my head for a buck. Where were you last night while I was knocked the fuck out and she was being attacked in an alleyway?”

  “She was attacked?” The laughter leaves his voice. “Abel had me inventorying in the warehouse. I just got done an hour ago, went searching for you, and now here we are. She got hurt?”

  “Yeah, motherfucker. She was hurt, and now I’m trying to keep her in my pocket at the same time I push her away and scare her enough not to come back to our world. She ain’t safe knowing me. She’s a danger magnet.”

  “She’s gonna get you killed.” Like I can sense him shaking his head, I shake mine in response. “You’re already in trouble.”

  “Don’t I fuckin’ know it? What do you want, Jay? If you can see me,” I lift my hand and flip off the empty parking lot, “if you saw I was busy, why the fuck you calling me?”

  “Abel called.”

  “I don’t give a fuck! I’ll be back tonight. He can’t have me twenty-four-seven.”

  “Actually, he can. He owns us. He could have you thrown into supermax for the rest of your life. You want that?”

  “Swear to god, everyone thinks they can threaten me with prison time these days.”

  “So what happened last night?” Grunting in a way that signals him resettling himself, I can picture him sitting somewhere in his car with a set of binoculars. “What happened to your face? I see everything; I saw your hand sneaking up her skirt, I definitely saw your face. Run into a doorknob?”

  “No. Abel.”

  “I got that already. I mean, what specifically happened?”

  “Brochov was a better payday for Abel.”

  “The Russian?”

  “Mm.” I turn away from Jess and kick loose gravel beneath my boots. “He said I had to lose. And I had to do it convincingly. Brochov beat me to shit.”

  “How’d she get hurt?”

  “I dunno. She was in the club. I didn’t know she was there. I woke up in the alley out back and she was pinned against the wall.”

  “He… did he…” He can’t finish the sentence, because even for a couple criminals, we still abide by those codes so many at Infernos don’t.

  “Yup. He did.” Rage bubbles in my blood as I remember her red face, her bulging eyes. His hand beneath the dress she’s wearing right now. I turn back to the glass and watch her bent over her breakfast; she’s not eating, just staring. “I’m best friends with a traumatized girl right now, Jay, and I was buying her breakfast when you decided to call and break the party up. You still didn’t get to the point of your call.”

  Finally serious, his voice changes to the guy I know in the club. “Abel’s got a shipment coming in and he’s putting you on it. You need to shake her off.”

  “I can’t shake her off. I don’t wanna.”

  And what’s more, somehow, for some insane reason, she’s safer with me than she is when we’re apart.

  14

  Jess

  I Got In A Gunfight

  “Girrrrrrl…” Dolly stops in front of me and mistakes my red face for pent up sexual frustration rather than rage. She fans herself and pushes her boobs into the air. “Please, Lord, tell me he doesn’t actually have blue balls. You’re not neglecting that fine man, are you?”

  And now I have a brand-new target for the rage simmering in my blood. Kane’s outside talking to criminals about criminal things, and that pisses me the fuck off. Big-Boobs-Dolly with the grabbable badonkadonk is about to cop the wrath I’d rather throw at the criminal watching my back and burning holes in my skin.

  Sitting taller, I square my shoulders and step up – metaphorically – to a woman three times my size. “So it’s my job, because I’m a woman, to make sure a man’s been pleasured just because he looks good?” I lift my brow and glare at the poor woman earning less than minimum wage. She just wants to compliment the man messing with my head, but instead, she gets my shitty mood. “What the hell is the matter with you, lady? He smiles at you and suddenly he’s earned a blowjob and a lifetime of servitude? Are we just meat? No free will. No free thinking. Just a bag of bones and a warm hole for a man to sink into whenever he damn well pleases.”

  She rolls her head with a dangerous tic and takes me back to all those WWE marathons we watched when I was younger. She makes me think of all the times Hulk Hogan climbed into the ring, picked up his opponent, and slammed him down over his knee.

  She’s about to snap my spine like a dry old twig.

  And I probably deserve it.

  “You wanna bring your sass to me, Miss Fancy?” She slams her hand onto her broad hip and purses her lips. “I was only playing. He’s fine as shit, but no, young lady, his smile doesn’t earn him a blowjob. Nothing earns him a blowjob. But, girlfriend, the way he looks at you earns him a little less sass. We’re allowed to have our own thoughts. Hell, we
’re even allowed to not wear an apron if we don’t wanna, but a man declares his love the way yours did today, then you should probably give him some sugar when he asks for it.” Snapping her hand towel from the band of her apron, I jump when she whips it onto the counter with a loud crack. “I was only trying to strike up a conversation with my sister wife, seeing as I kinda fell in love with your man today, but you’d rather blow attitude up my ass and pick at the food we prepared for you.”

  I look down at the dish Kane ordered for me. Already cold, the maple syrup has long since soaked through, leaving the pancakes soggy on the bottom of the plate.

  “My boys back there work hard in a shitty place to make fancy pancakes for the fancy girl, but did you eat ‘em? No! You’d rather be a brat and bitch at me.”

  “I wasn’t–”

  “You better tip us, young lady. You got fancy shoes, fancy nails, and a shitty attitude. I look forward to my Christmas bonus,” she steps to the left and grabs a glass jar filled one-tenth of the way with cash, “in this jar. Don’t be stingy. And don’t ask your man to pay.”

  “He’s not my man! I’m not his girl.”

  “So he’s single and ready to mingle? Keep your cash, little girl. I’ll take him instead.”

  “Blondie?”

  I spin at the sound of Kane’s amused voice and find him with the cell still clutched in his hand, lips twitching and wide eyed. “What did you do?”

  “She said you ain’t her man.”

  “No, I–”

  The loud, incessant cackling of someone with an annoying sense of humor and possible lung issues, rings through the phone. “I’m not your man?” Clutching his chest, he falls back a step and pushes his swollen lips into a pout. “You don’t love me back? You’d rather sell me to Dolly than tip?”

  “It’s okay, baby.” Dolly pats her large chest. “Dolly will take care of you.”

  He points over my shoulder. “You want me to snuggle up with her at night? You don’t want me?”

  With a huff exactly how Dolly would expect – spoiled and bratty – I turn away from his dancing eyes and collect my small purse. Taking out a fifty, I slam it into her glass jar and stand. “I’m done eating. I want to go home.”

  Kane moves forward and doesn’t stop until his chest touches my shoulder. He presses his lips to my temple and reduces Dolly to a swooning mess. “You didn’t eat yet. Sit down. Put some pancake in your mouth.”

  “No. I’m rea–”

  “Now.” He pushes me down and takes a short slice of bacon, holding it between his lips like he did ten minutes ago. “Now take my meat in your mouth.”

  The cackling on the phone continues. Whoever his criminal friend is, he thinks his buddy is hilari-fricken-ous. “No.”

  Kane’s lifted brow scares me more than Dolly ever did. He removes the bacon from between his lips, leaving behind glistening oil. “No?”

  “No. I’m ready to leave. You brought me here, so now you need to take me home.” I sound exactly like the high-class jerk Dolly accused me of being. “Now.”

  Twinkling eyes flicker between mine and my lips. He brings his tongue out to moisten his.

  I shouldn’t notice.

  I shouldn’t care.

  I should punch him in the face and walk home.

  But I don’t. I stare at the shine on his bottom lip.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, just kiss her already.” My eyes snap down to the phone, the call still live, the volume turned up, then come back to his. “We all wanna go home and touch ourselves now,” his friend obnoxiously pushes on. “Look at poor Dolly. Give the woman something to remember you by.”

  “No.” I push back with both hands on Kane’s chest. “Do not give Dolly something to remember us by.”

  He leans forward, and every inch I push away, Kane replaces with his body until we’re standing toe to toe, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. He’s taller than me, and his lips are far more determined. Bringing them to the tiny scar on my neck, he hides in my hair and slides his tongue over my flesh. “Don’t sell me for breakfast again, Blondie. That hurts my feelings.” Swatting my ass, he releases me and watches me flop back onto my stool. “We’re not leaving yet, Dolly. She’s gotta eat every last thing on her plate.”

  “She’s too high maintenance for you, sugar. You deserve someone like me.”

  “Nah.” He drops a kiss on my stunned lips and cups my cheek. “She took a knife in the gut this week. Didn’t even cry about it. She’s exactly right for me.”

  15

  Kane

  Peppermint

  “She took a knife in the gut?”

  As soon as I walk into Infernos at eleven, Jay stops me with a snarl. We use the regular entrance around here, just like everyone else. There are no secret doorways to the lair, no staff entrance. There’s just the front door, and the door leading to the alleyway once people start convulsing from bad drugs or a beating.

  Since everyone uses the main entrance, standing in the hall with everyone else means women move close and jockey for attention.

  “What the fuck do you mean she took a knife to the gut?”

  “Well, ribs.” I roll a toothpick between my teeth and remove a random hand from my cock. Lifting my chin, I begin moving forward. At Infernos, you sort of have to be like a shark – stay still for too long, you die. Or in this particular case, you get groped.

  That’s not such a bad thing if you wanna be groped, but I don’t want to be.

  So we move.

  “She’s got a nice long line of stitches in her ribs right now, thanks to Lance.”

  “Lance? That crazy snaggle toothed motherfucker?”

  “Yep. You’ve been gone too much, man. You don’t keep up.”

  “Abel’s got me working till sunrise every fuckin’ day! It’s like we’re in grade school and the teachers think we talk too much, so they move our chairs apart.”

  Laughing, I stop when Jay gets a handful of tit from a willing dancer. “We do talk too much, Jay. It’s dangerous for Abel that we’re friendly. I’m surprised he even hired us both. I was so sure he’d pop one of us and keep the other.”

  “Fuck him.” He slides his hand between the redhead’s legs, presses a kiss to her jaw, and turns away to leave her panting. “Abel’s an asshole.”

  “Well, that’s true.” I pull the toothpick from my mouth. “But he’s also our bread and butter, so…”

  “But she’s got stitches? The blonde has stitches right now?” He pushes a hand through dark hair just like mine and watches me with red rimmed eyes.

  He knows better than to give in to drugs. He even knows he shouldn’t touch the girls, but we’ve been here too long. This place is fucking hell.

  Even good men change, and we’re too powerless to stop it.

  Abel has us doing shit we don’t want to remember, so Jay uses women and drugs to forget. And when he has neither of those, he smokes.

  I don’t know my vice yet. But I’m beginning to think she’s blonde and I’ve finally cracked.

  “Yeah. He tagged her a few nights ago. I took her home and stitched her up.”

  “She let you? She didn’t squeal?”

  “She let me. She didn’t squeal. And, get this, her boss’ husband is a cop. She’s got state workers coming out her ass, and yet, she didn’t squeal.”

  “Jesus.” We skirt past a room with a woman screaming the wrong kind of scream. Not the pleasant kind, but the kind Jay smokes joints to forget. “No wonder she stood up to Dolly. No wonder she ain’t scared of you. She’s a badass Barbie.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Can I have her?”

  “No!”

  He laughs and bumps my shoulder as we emerge into the same room I left last night while unconscious.

  Was she standing right where I stand now?

  She watched me fight, watched me lose. And she followed my ass out into that alleyway to help me, despite the danger.

  “You’re getting a little possessive, huh? The girls like th
at. They think it’s sexy.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Just a taste? One time. Just the tip.”

  I turn until we come toe to toe, lift my brow, and rest a hand on my hip. “I’ll gut you like a fish, Jay. I love you, but I’ll shit on your corpse if you touch her. I’m not sharing, so get it outta your head right now before I cut your nuts off.”

  Scrunching his nose, he chuckles and turns back to the boxing ring as two big ass brothers beat the shit out of each other. “I’m just teasin’, Bish. She’s all yours. I’ll protect her with my life, I promise.”

  And just like that, Jess now has two of Abel’s best enforcers promising a lifetime of protection.

  How does she wield her power? How does she control such an army without trying?

  “Hopefully you never have to.”

  “You said she’s a danger magnet.”

  “She fuckin’ is. She hangs with me, for starters. She chooses to hang with me, sleeps in my bed, lets me sew her up. She’s willing to talk her cop friends down if I promise to stop being a criminal.” He snorts at that. “She’ll get me a job doing anything I want so long as I stop killing people; her words, not mine. She had a run in with Lance, then with another guy last night, and you saw her with Dolly today. She’s a damn menace. And on Christmas mornings, apparently they beat on each other and shoot to get the last of whatever food everyone else wants.”

  “Fuck me.” He slaps my shoulder in support. “I dunno if you can handle that kinda crazy. Our life is already fucked up. You need to get away from here, then you need to marry someone like that fat lady, Dolly.”

  Barking out a laugh, I watch the smaller of the two men in the ring pin the other. His fists slam down over his opponent, breaking bones, and yet the spectators do nothing but pass more money around. “I dunno, Jay. Dolly seemed kinda crazy, too. I think she likes me.”

  “It doesn’t matter that she’s twice your age. I bet when she takes her teeth out at night, those gums feel good around your cock.”