Pawns In The Bishop's Game

by Emilia Finn

  I snag a second chocolate bar and toss it into her basket. She’s going to need the energy. “I heard you talking to someone. I don’t know if you noticed, but most men you ever encounter tend to wanna hurt you. Especially men that I know. I heard a man, I came in to make sure you were okay. You want me to apologize for that?”

  “No.” Stopping at the fridges, she grabs a carton of chocolate milk and drops it carelessly on top of the bag of chips. I grab a cola and add it to the weight pulling her arm down. “I didn’t realize we were shopping together. You said picnic, I said I’d be back in a sec. Now you’re in here, and I might have to explain to my family why I’m shopping with…”

  “With?” I pull her to a stop. “With who? A guy like me?”

  “Yes! A guy like you. A guy that my brother will ask if the neck tattoo hurt. A guy the chief will search and definitely find weapons. A guy my boss will lecture me over and not reward my extra diligence on a case.”

  “You always worry about what everything thinks?”

  “Not everyone.” She points to a blonde standing behind the cash register. “I don’t give a shit what that bitch thinks – she’s a homewrecking slut that nobody likes. But I care what my family thinks. Not because they’d judge me, but because they worry. I’ve always been the good girl, the one they don’t have to worry about. It would be unfair to flip the script on them now.”

  “So everyone else is allowed to be wild, but not you.”

  “Trust me, everyone else is wild enough to carry the next five generations. My brother and sister are crazy. They don’t need me adding to it.” We stop in front of the homewrecking slut at the cash register. Tossing her groceries on the conveyor belt, Jess all but ignores the woman. “I went skinny dipping last month. That was wild.”

  “Skinny dipping?” Stopping mid sort-of-fight, my dick thickens in my jeans. “Where?”

  “At the lake.” She taps her credit card to pay, then snatches the bags from the sneering woman and steps away. “It was fun.”

  “Who’d you go with?”

  “My sister and best friends.”

  “A bunch of girls.” I stop her at the doors and grin like a fool. “Skinny dipping?”

  “Mmhmm. Me, Britt, Kari, Laine. Sammy was there, but she’s a goodie goodie, too. Meg wasn’t there, because she’s got a brand-new baby, but if she wasn’t crowning, she would’ve been the first to lose her clothes. Jules wasn’t there, but only because Alex is a grump and would’ve flipped his lid and arrested us.”

  “He’d arrest you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’d arrest his own wife?”

  “In a damn heartbeat. He’d go for Jules first, because he’d need to cover her up. Now that she’s pregnant, he expects her to be respectable.”

  “And you think me throwing myself on Alex’s mercy will keep me out of prison. You’re delusional, Blondie.” We move out of the store and head toward the parking lot behind her office. “He’d throw me into the slammer and laugh as he leaves.”

  “He wouldn’t–’

  “But you’ve got a sister that likes to skinny dip?” I flash a playful grin and catch her elbow as she throws it back.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she snarls. “This falls under the calling me dumb, thing. Touch my sister, you die. We might be close, but we don’t roll like that.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I sure hope so, seeing as we’re kinda identical. She has nicer boobs than me, though.”

  “I think your boobs are pretty awesome.” I throw my arm over her shoulder and squeeze it. “I wouldn’t trade you. Not even for your skinny-dippin’ best friends with nice boobs.”

  “Are you high again?” She looks up into my eyes when we stop at her car. “You’re being hot and cold. You ask me out to a picnic, then you get mad because I talked to your neighbor. Now you’re asking about my sister and squeezing my boob. I can’t tell if the grumpy swing is coming.”

  “How do you know he’s my neighbor if you don’t actually know who he is?”

  “Ugh!” She spins away and unlocks her car. Tossing the grocery bags into the back seat, she hardly notices the way my heart breaks when the drinks crush the bread rolls and chips.

  “Jess?” I grab her arm and swing her back until her chest slams against mine. I noticed the security cameras at the back of the law office, so with a wolfish smile, I slam my lips down on hers. I have three nights left with her. It’s time to immortalize what we have so I can collect the footage and live with it forever. “I’m gonna let the neighbor thing go, seein’ as he’s never pissed me off.”

  “Awesome!” She throws her hands in the air. “I appreciate your graciousness. Where are we going? I’m starving.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Toast on your bed this morning.” She flashes a megawatt smile as a distraction. “You know, right after you fucked me.”

  “It was good fuckin’, but that’s not enough food. How are you supposed to outrun bears if you’re weak from hunger?”

  “You’re a bear, aren’t you? I always thought you were. A big old grizzly bear.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What’s your point?”

  “Well, instead of outrunning you, I choose to sleep in your cave. Seduce the bear, and suddenly they become a hell of a lot less scary.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I lean past her and snag one of the chocolate bars. Tearing the wrapper off, I shove the candy into her mouth. “Eat before you pass out. Then I want you to follow me.”

  She flashes a chocolatey grin. “Where are we going?”

  “First, we’re going to the lookout to eat. But we gotta do it fast, because we have somewhere to be at six.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere important.” I drop a kiss on her cheek. “Follow me, beautiful. Tonight’s important, so I need you to be fed and ready.”

  24

  Jess

  G.I. Joe For Realz

  “Guns?” I attempt to pull him back as we move through the front door of a ‘tactical practice range’. “A shooting range? Kane, stop!”

  “Keep walking, Blondie.” He doesn’t slow, he simply hitches a backpack onto his shoulder, clasps my hand, and yanks me forward. “We’re on the clock. I’ve gotta work tonight, and you’ve only got three days to learn how to shoot the person you’re actually aiming for.”

  “Is this punishment for when I shot at you? Because I’ll say sorry. I won’t mean it, but I’ll say it if you let me leave again.” The man behind the counter looks up at my words. His brow quirks high as Kane snorts. “I knew what I was doing!” I snap. “I purposely missed you. If I wanted to hit you, I would have.”

  “No.” He stops at the counter and slams down a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Instantly, my eyes narrow. I’ve never asked straight out, but going by the way Kane lives, I always assumed he was kind of broke. “Spence. You got a lane open for us?”

  “Depends.” Spence places a half-dismantled handgun on the glass cabinet and snatches up the wad of cash. “She gonna aim, or she gonna shoot?”

  “She’s gonna do both. By the time we’re done this week, she’ll be good enough to go to war.”

  “You got a war coming, Bish?”

  “He knows your name?” I tug on Kane’s hand. “Kane Bishop! How does he know your name?”

  “Everyone knows my name, Blondie.” He looks over his shoulder and grins. “It’s usually the first thing I say when I meet someone. Spence, we’ll start with the targets, but I wanna move her through the sims as soon as possible. She’s a danger magnet.”

  “She bringing danger to my place? Because insurance costs more every time someone fucks up.”

  “She’ll be fine. The only person who might get shot is me, and I won’t file a claim, so don’t sweat it.”

  “I won’t shoot you,” I grumble. “Maybe.”

  “How many rounds?” Spence asks. “Fifteen?”

  “Nah, we’re gonna be here till she nails it
. Keep us stocked and I’ll send you a Christmas card.”

  “What kind?”

  I’m imagining all the different kinds of Christmas cards available in store; pop up, musical, glitter, the kind with a hole in the back that someone pokes their middle finger through.

  But Kane answers with, “.45 Glock. She already used mine. She shot off a round and didn’t kill herself.”

  “You don’t wanna try something with a little more kick?”

  “She won’t have access to anything else with more. Blondie?” He turns to me. “Are you left or right handed?”

  “Umm–”

  “Doesn’t matter anyway. We’re doing the .45, but we need more rounds. When she can group them, I’m taking her into the yard.”

  “What yard? What are you talking about?”

  “She’s in heels, Bish. You want her simulating in heels?”

  “Nah. I got her clothes and sneakers.” He takes the backpack from his shoulder and pushes it at me. “Bathrooms are over there. I need you to get changed.”

  I peel the zipper open and pull out jeans, sneakers, spare underwear. “You went into my apartment? When?”

  “Today. Hush. Go get changed and we’ll get sorted out here.”

  “You got me panties, too? You expect me to shit myself today, Bish?”

  “No.” He takes me by the shoulders as Spence makes himself busy in the cabinet. Patting my ass, he turns me away. “The panties are so you can sleep at my place tonight. Jeans and sneakers are for now. Get changed. Stop being a pain.”

  I cock my hip dangerously. “Spence, I’m going to shoot him. And I know the law, so I’ll tell the cops I shot him. Then your insurance people will have to get involved, and voila, no Christmas cards for you. Are you ready for that kind of backlash?”

  “Bishop. We don’t bring mama drama in here.”

  “She’s fine. She has like a Tourette’s thing, but with sass. She got it out of her system, so she’ll be good for an hour now.” I yelp and skip forward when he slaps my ass. “Go. We’re not playing, Jess. We have work to do, and you’re wasting time.”

  “I don’t wanna shoot guns, Kane. I didn’t agree to this.”

  “This is one of those things where I’m gonna have to insist. It’s for your own good. I need you to know how to look after yourself. As soon as you’re comfortable, we’ll start the process so you can carry your own. Christmas is coming, I’m getting you lifetime access to this place, and Spence will tell me if you’re not here at least once a week.”

  “Spence will tell you? Where will you be?” My heart races at the implication in his tone. “Kane?” He pushes me toward the bathrooms. “Kane! Where will you be?”

  Tenderness replaces the dark sparkle in his eyes. Leaning forward, he presses gentle lips to mine and his palm to my chest. “I’ll be here. But I need you to take this seriously. Please get changed. Please leave the sass in the bag. Come out ready to learn. This is important to me.”

  Scratched glasses cover my eyes, ear muffs create waves in my head, and Kane’s strong chest presses to my back. Together, we stand in a booth and stare down a long room toward paper targets that hang from a pully system.

  Kane’s strong arms wrap around mine, and positioning my fingers, he makes sure my pointer finger rests along the barrel.

  Not on the trigger. Just like the neighbor said.

  “I need you to aim, Jessie. Deep breaths. Clear your mind.”

  “If someone’s shooting at me, my mind won’t be clear.”

  “I know. That’s why we practice. You said you go to the gym with those fighters. You reckon the fighter’s giving his wife private lessons. You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Muscle memory. Because someday she might need it, and instead of expecting her to remember the random classes she went to, he’s teaching her muscles. When you do something enough, you don’t even have to think about it. You don’t have to do anything. Your body will do it for you.” Sliding his hands along my arms, he backs away until they rest on my hips. “That’s why you froze with Lance. Self-defense lessons are useless unless you make it a way of life. Muscle memory. Ever gotten to work, sat at your desk and realized you have no fucking clue how you got there? You have no recollection of leaving the house, and yet, you’re dressed, your to-go cup is full of coffee, and you still have all your files and cell. Muscle memory. That’s what we’re doing here. We have three days, and that’s not enough, but it’s all we’ve got. Then when Abel’s deal has gone down, I want you to keep coming here. Spencer is a good guy. He’s an ex-army ranger. He’s grumpy a lot, but he knows what he’s doing. I want you to come back at least once a week. Every single week.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “I’ll be really, really mad at you. Now focus. See your target?”

  I nod.

  “See it. You wanna aim for the big target, which is…”

  “Chest?”

  “Yeah, baby.” He brings his hand up to cup the back of my neck. “Exactly. Find the button on his shirt, the zipper, dog tags, whatever. Aim for that.”

  “Why the button?”

  “Because even if you miss, you’re still gonna get him in the chest. Get ready, baby. Aim. Breathe. When you’re ready, shoot.”

  “Will it jump back and smack me in the face?”

  “Did it the other day?”

  “Well…” My arms shake. “No. But I was really mad then and didn’t think it all the way through.”

  He squeezes my neck and chuckles. “It won’t recoil much. Stand strong, hold on tight, but don’t worry, it won’t come back and pop you in the face. It’ll be loud. Be prepared.”

  “Okay.”

  “You ready?”

  “If you let me go home without shooting this, I’ll let you put your dick in my mouth.”

  Just as predicted, he grows against my back, but I feel his no as he shakes his head. “No dice.”

  “In the car.”

  “Still no. Now stop fucking around. This gun is live. Breathe, Jessie. Deep in, deep out. Forget I’m here. Aim. Shoot.”

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  I try to clear my mind, but I still feel his hand on my neck, the other rests on my hip. Instead of it making me feel controlled or crowded, I feel supported. Braced. He’s holding me up.

  I slide my finger along the barrel, and grit my teeth when it reaches the trigger.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  Find the button. Find the dog tags.

  Squeeze.

  The gun booms, and Kane’s supportive hands become apparent when I jump back and he catches me.

  “Relax, beautiful. You did good.”

  I lean forward with squinting eyes and search my target. “I missed.”

  “You didn’t miss. Right side. Breast pocket.”

  “I was aiming for the center dot.”

  “And yet you hit the heart. That’s a kill shot, Jessie. Well done.” Before I get a chance to smile, or dance, or high five the air, he adds, “Now do it again.”

  As six p.m. turns into eight, then nine, then ten, I understand some of what Kane and Spencer were saying at the front desk. The fifteen rounds Spencer suggested is used by each person that passes through a booth near mine. They stay for less than an hour, they shoot their rounds, they collect their target paper, then they leave.

  But my rounds never end.

  My arms turn to jelly, and my bladder fills with the chocolate milk I drank at our picnic, yet, I’m not released.

  Four hours after I begin, when I’m sure I can hit anything, no matter how small or far away the target, Kane steps back and starts working on strapping guns to his thighs.

  Strapping guns.

  To his thighs.

  Alex and Oz often have police issued guns on their thighs when in uniform, but Kane’s in jeans and heavy boots, with a muscle shirt and enough ink to fill thousands of pens. It’s different to Oz. It’s definitely different to Alex.


  Despite the hour, and despite the fact he has to go to work soon, when he meets my eyes, his sparkle playfully. His eye is still bruised from the fight, and his split lip still bleeds when we kiss, but when I look at him, I don’t feel the worry like I did a few nights ago. He looks dangerous.

  His lips twitch. “What?”

  “What time do you have to go to work?”

  “Eleven. Why?”

  “So we have an hour?”

  “Yeah.” He pushes a gun into the holster on his right leg. “I’m gonna run you through the course once. Then we’ll go home. We’ll be back tomorrow night, so don’t make plans.”

  “Okay.”

  “You must be exhausted.”

  “Not really.”

  His eyes come back to mine. “No?”

  Shaking my head, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and embrace the pulsing in my jeans. I’ve been shooting guns for hours, and Kane’s chest has been pressed to my back almost the whole time. Maybe guns turn him on, too, because his dick hasn’t turned soft since I mentioned a blow job.

  The adrenaline of shooting a gun makes my blood thrum through my veins, but the sight of him standing in front of me this way – guns, muscles, tight shirt, and those sparkling eyes – it all combines to leave me breathless.

  “How long will the course take?”

  He shrugs and takes my gun – which is his gun – and reloads it. “Ten minutes. Depends how fast you move.”

  “If I sprint, can I get it done in two?”

  “If you sprint, you’ll miss. If you miss, I’ll be mad.”

  “If I sprint and don’t miss, will you monster fuck me before you leave tonight?”

  With a grin, he steps forward and crowds me into our booth. “You feeling a little antsy, Blondie? You can feel it in the air, too?”

  I nod.

  “I’ll monster fuck you thirty minutes from now.” He lifts my arm and presses a kiss to my wrist. “Set your watch. Then if you sleep in my bed, I’ll fuck you again when I get home.”

  “What time will you get home?”

  His tongue slides along my forearm. “Dunno. Three or four. I won’t even wake you. Ever fucked while asleep before?”