by Finn, Emilia
Sacrifice The Knight
Checkmate, #6
Emilia Finn
SACRIFICE THE KNIGHT
By: Emilia Finn
Copyright © 2019. Emilia Finn
Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd.
Cover Design: Amy Queue
Cover Model Photography: Eric McKinney
Cover Model: Mark Somsky
Editing: Krista Vanero/Mountains Wanted
ISBN: 978 170 132 8181
This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy.
To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of Emilia Finn’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Also by Emilia Finn
Looking To Connect?
SACRIFICE THE KNIGHT
1. Fourteen Years Ago
2. Eric
3. Katrina
4. Eric
5. Eric
6. Katrina
7. Eric
8. Katrina
9. Eric
10. Katrina
11. Eric
12. Katrina
13. Eric
14. Eric
15. Katrina
16. Eric
17. Katrina
18. Mac
19. Eric
20. Eric
21. Katrina
22. Eric
23. Katrina
24. Mac
25. Eric
26. Katrina
27. Eric
28. Eric
29. Katrina
30. Mac
31. Katrina
32. Eric
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by Emilia Finn
For E
I’m sorry life hurt so much
Also by Emilia Finn
(in reading order)
The Rollin On Series
Finding Home
Finding Victory
Finding Forever
Finding Peace
Finding Redemption
Finding Hope
The Survivor Series
Because of You
Surviving You
Without You
Rewriting You
Always You
Take A Chance On Me
The Checkmate Series
Pawns In The Bishop’s Game
Till The Sun Dies
Castling The Rook
Playing For Keeps
Rise Of The King
Sacrifice The Knight
Rollin On Novellas
(Do not read before finishing the Rollin On Series)
Begin Again – A Short Story
Written in the Stars – A Short Story
Begin Again – A Short Story
Written in the Stars – A Short Story
Full Circle – A Short Story
Worth Fighting For – A Bobby & Kit Novella
Looking To Connect?
Website: www.emiliafinn.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EmiliaBFinn/
Newsletter: https://bit.ly/2YB5Gmw
Email: [email protected]
The Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/therollincrew/
Did you know you can get a FREE book? Click here for Bry and Nelly’s story: BookHip.com/DPMMQM
SACRIFICE THE KNIGHT
Checkmate, #6
EMILIA FINN
1
Fourteen Years Ago
Crisp white walls.
Dreary gray paint.
Clean tile floors.
Cracked linoleum.
Baby portraits strung up to show off the good work of the staff who occupy this office.
Flyers tacked on the wall to warn us of the massive mistake we’ve made.
Cutesy music is piped through the speakers; it’s warm, welcoming, and adds a kind of magic to what’s coming in our futures.
A recording plays on repeat, a reminder of where I need to go next and how to stay safe while doing it.
Nurses bustle along the halls with large smiles and a skip to their steps, as though working here and seeing this magic is their greatest pleasure.
Nurses walk the halls with sunken faces, and every one who passes glares, like I did this on purpose, and I need it rubbed in a little more.
I hold Gemma’s hand between mine, press a kiss to her knuckles, and hold her still before she vibrates through the roof and explodes.
I sit alone on the edge of a paper-covered bed, twist my fingers together, and will the tears from my eyes. They sting; they blur my vision, and they’re absolutely useless.
“Mr. and Mrs. DeWhit?” Doctor Bartholomew rushes through the door with an infectious smile and a folder that might contain all of our prayers and dreams. He drops it on the edge of a mahogany desk and moves to the sink to wash his hands. “How are you today? Get any sleep last night?”
“No.” Gemma nervously clears her throat and leans into my side. “Can’t say I slept a wink, to be honest.”
“Tut, tut.” Taking a wad of paper towels, Bartholomew dries his hands and turns back to us. “You really should get your rest, young lady. Seven months from now, you’re going to wish you did.”
“Really?” Gemma’s spine snaps straighter, her eyes wider, her chest broader. “Really, really?”
“Congratulations, kids. You did it! You’re going to be a mommy and daddy in seven short months.”
“Oh my God!” Gemma bounds from the bed, drags me to my feet and throws herself into my embrace. Her arms choke my neck, her legs cinch around my waist, but then our lips clash and our salty tears mingle on our tongues. We tried for so long. We worked for this. We earned it.
“We did it,” she cries.
“We sure did.” I press my lips against hers and kiss for every tear we’ve shed while we waited for this day, for two years while we tried to conceive, for every test that came back negative and hurt us a little more. “I love you so much, Gem. I’m so proud of us.”
“You’re pregnant, Miss Blair.” A nurse in green scrubs and an ugly scowl stares at me until I almost feel the burn. “You’re around eight weeks along, though we’ll have Doctor Wheeler do a scan to confirm dates. You’ll need to come back in three weeks for that, but there will be an out-of-pocket gap, so you’ll have to talk to your insurer.”
She continues to discuss my future and finances, despite the hot tears that slide over my cheeks and the body-wracking shakes that cut me down to my core. My stomach already has that small grapefruit, that presence inside me that I feel when I lean forward. It makes it hard to breathe. It
scares me to my core.
The woman moves across the office to do her thing, makes her notes, drips her disappointment that another teen has become a statistic, and pays no mind to the scared girl sitting all alone on a crinkly bed with a broken heart and a filling belly.
“You’re pregnant, Miss Blair.”
“You’re pregnant, Miss Blair.”
“You’re pregnant, Miss Blair.”
My life is over.
2
Eric
Present Day
“Radio one, checking in. What do you see?”
Spence’s deep voice crackles in my ear as I lower myself in the front seat of my midnight black truck and watch my client’s wife drive into her lover’s driveway. Checkmate Security is off and running with datebooks filled to bursting with people who want our eyes and skills, but not enough staff to keep shit under control.
Clients come to us for a billion different reasons: to set up home security, for protection if they’re feeling threatened, to put a scare on someone else if that person is being shady. And sometimes they hire us because they suspect their partner is a cheating sack of shit. Usually women come to us because their men have been working longer hours, and they suspect they’re sneaking around. But tonight, I find myself parked in an upscale suburban street with my hat pulled low over eyes that watch my male client’s wife pull up in a hot pink Jetta in the dead of night.
Aaron and Valerie Scanlen are seven years deep into a marriage Aaron suspects is loveless. He’s a local accountant, and Valerie is a publicist who works in the city and commutes every day in her fancy car. He suspects she might be sneaking around with one of her big-name clients, a sports star who was just too tempting to pass up, but after watching the woman for a couple weeks, I think he may be a smidge off.
She’s definitely fucking around on him, but it’s not with an overpaid sports star while she works extra hours in the city. No, it’s with Aaron’s brother, who lives just one street over, drives a minivan to work after school drop-off, and sends his wife and two kids on vacation to their little cabin as often as he can manage it. When his wife is out of range, Valerie’s Jetta zooms into his paved driveway, and just like tonight, she throws herself into his arms and practically humps him in public.
“She’s fucking the brother,” I confirm quietly. “She’s fucking him so often, I’m not even sure which Scanlen fathered her children.”
“Dude’s gonna be hella pissed,” Spence chuckles. “Why do the bitches always gotta cheat? Why do they have to screw around? If you ain’t happy, walk away.”
“Spencer?” I wait for his attention with a smirk. “Are you projecting right now?”
“Shut the fuck up, DeWhit! Ashley fucked me over, and now I’ll never be able to have a real relationship. She scarred me, man!”
“She was your summer fling when you were sixteen!”
“Yeah she was. She flinged, she flunged, then she flopped her whore ass on Toby Mercino’s cock just as soon as the school bell rang first day back. I’ve never had a healthy relationship since. Fuck those bitches.”
“Are you done?” Chuckling, I bring my binoculars up and study Valerie’s brother-in-law’s hand as it moves inside her panties. “How did we end up with this detail, Spence? This is a shitty job.”
“Because you got the last juicy case. We gotta rotate that shit or Jay gets pissy. He has a thing for attention. Like a fuckin’ circus bear. So this time, we get Valerie the whore, and next time, we might get to cut someone’s nuts out.”
“You’re sick.” Switching out my Steiners for an expensive camera, I snap photographs for Aaron to present in their divorce case when she tries to take everything he owns and their English bulldog. “Aaron was right on this one; she’s boning someone else. He wins; she loses.” I snap another picture. Then another. “We’re done here; let’s pack it up and head home.”
“Hold up, Cap.” Spence’s voice changes, then a set of headlights illuminate the street while the secret couple practically fuck against the garage door. “Incoming bogie. This ain’t gonna be pretty.”
“Fuck.” Dropping my camera and fixing my seat so I sit upright, I unsnap my seatbelt as the scorned husband roars into his brother’s driveway and misses hitting the couple by a hair. I jump out of my truck in the same moment Aaron races out with a baseball bat in his hands.
“Spence!” I run across the street with my partner’s racing breath in my ear, and draw my weapon just as Aaron’s arm swings down. “Stop!” I cock my nine-millimeter and slow until his wild eyes come away from his cowering wife. “You can’t do that, Aaron.”
“I was right!” Spittle flies in the space between us from how loud he screeches. “I was right. She’s fucking around on me!”
“Yes, you were right, and now we have proof.” I speak quietly, calmly as I inch closer and try to position myself between husband and wife. “You were right, and I have the proof in my car. But you can’t hit them. Lower your bat, Scanlen, and step the fuck back before you do something that can’t be undone.”
“I want her to die!” The veins bulge in his forehead. “I want you to die, Val! My brother? My fucking brother?” He lifts his bat again. “My little fucking brother?”
I jump forward when Aaron’s eyes change from pissed to straight up murderous. Throwing myself between him and Valerie, I regret my move when the bat swings down and slams over my shoulder until something crunches. “Fuck!” Bringing my gun up and pointing it at his face when he comes back for another shot, I push the hysterical couple back when they do nothing but turn my hearing tinny. Spence races into the driveway, all seven feet of Army Ranger muscle and a not-at-all legal firearm ready and cocked. Without hesitation, he slams his boot on the back of Aaron’s knees until the guy crumbles to the ground and the bat rolls away.
“You okay, Cap?” Flipping Aaron over with a grunt and lowering to his knee, he holds the fucker down and pulls out a set of handcuffs until the guy is hogtied and useless. Spence looks up. “Cap?”
“Yeah.” Rolling my shoulder, I bite off a curse when I feel bone move on bone. “Motherfucker, that’s gonna need more than a Band-Aid to fix.”
“Thank you so much.” Sniffly and annoying, Valerie steps out of her boyfriend’s arms and strokes mine. “Thank you so much for being here at the exact right time. I’m not sure what would have happened if you weren’t.”
“Fuck you, Valerie!” I shove her hand off my arm and step away. Pointing at the man on the ground, I pin the bitch with a glare. “That’s your husband, and you’re cheating on him. He wanted to know why you’re out all the damn time, and now he finds out you’re cheating with his brother? I hope you lose your shirt in your divorce.”
“No!” she cries. “It’s not like that.”
“Yes, it fuckin’ is. I have proof that I’ll hand over just as soon as I can. But then we have proof of him wanting to kill you. So now you’re both fucked, and the real victims here are your kids. I hope you feel good about yourself, you dirty bitch.”
“Turner?” Spence speaks with the police on his phone while he stands with a foot on Aaron’s back. “I think maybe attempted assault? Murder? Fuck if I know the words you need. But you got a cheating bimbo with dark hair and double Ds, and an enraged soon-to-be ex-husband pencil dick who tried to smack her with a Slugger. Now everyone’s pissed, and they got kids at home, so someone better get over there, too.”
An hour after sitting in my truck teasing Spence about his summer fling, I climb back in with an ice-pack on my collarbone and orders to take my ass to the ER to get it looked at.
Tomorrow.
I’ll do it tomorrow, because for right now, I don’t wanna sit on cheap plastic for six hours while I pay out the ass to be ignored.
Kane Bishop is Checkmate Security’s founder and my boss, I guess, though it’s an odd dynamic. He’s younger than me, and back when we worked as federal agents at the same time, I was his superior. But now we’re all civilians, and he pays me a salary. I
called him after Alex Turner finished taking statements and let him know where I was, but I omitted the bit about my busted shoulder and promised I was heading home for the night.
Job complete. Invoice is already paid. Everybody except Valerie and Aaron Scanlen go back to their beds tonight.
“Good work, Cap.” Spence stops beside my door with a crooked grin and twinkling eyes. Nobody loves a throwdown more than this guy. He was hoping for a baseball bat. Hell, he was hoping for a fully armored tank and a round of Battleship. “He was gonna beat that bitch to a pulp. Good job diving in.”
“Yeah, good job. Now I have a fuck ton of paperwork to finish and an ice pack to hold for the next seventy-two hours.”
“Stop bitching.” He taps the top of my truck and steps back. “The blond medic is cool, so if he says ice-pack, he means ice-pack. We all know you need an ER, so stop whining and just go do what you were already gonna do.”
And just like that, she flashes through my mind. Shoulder blade-length midnight black hair. Red, red lips that look as juicy as an apple. Bright green eyes I find difficult to look away from. And an ass that has left me breathless on too many occasions.
