by Cassie Wild
Tricks
Deceit and Desire Book 3
Cassie Wild
Belmonte Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC
Contents
Reading Order
1. Ravenna
2. Nicco
3. Ravenna
4. Nicco
5. Ravenna
6. Ravenna
7. Nicco
8. Ravenna
9. Nicco
10. Ravenna
11. Nicco
12. Ravenna
13. Nicco
14. Ravenna
15. Nicco
16. Ravenna
17. Nicco
18. Ravenna
19. Nicco
20. Ravenna
21. Nicco
About the Author
Reading Order
Thank you so much for reading Tricks, book 3 in my Deceit and Desire series. If you’d like to read the complete series, I recommend reading them in this order:
1. Lies
2. Fire
3. Tricks (This Book)
4. Heat (June 15)
5. Sting (June 27)
6. Blaze (July 6)
One
Ravenna
Back against a metal drum, I panted for air, my lungs all but screaming at me. I’d just run what felt like a mile, the equipment I carried weighing me down while the summer sun blistered high overhead.
There wasn’t any respite from the heat, either.
I didn’t need respite though.
I’d lost the decent cover I had, and now I wanted to end the bastard who’d chased me out.
He was trying to find me again.
I could hear him moving around, his feet rustling in the dried, dying grass.
We were down to just five, and he’d taken out most of my team.
I was going to get him.
Sweat dripped into my eyes and burned. I blinked it away but didn’t dare take my eyes off the scene in front of me, listening for any sound that my target had gotten closer.
And I did hear something – coming from the wrong direction.
Shit!
I burst upright and started to run, only to freeze when something exploded against my chest.
“Damn it, you son of a bitch,” I shouted, looking down at the splatter of paint that now festooned the front of my shirt.
“You’re always a hard one to catch,” my oldest brother said, grinning at me. Carl’s shit-eating grin made me want to stick my tongue out at him.
So, I shot him with the paintball gun I carried. It was much more satisfying.
“That doesn’t count, Ravenna!” he shouted as I trotted off the field of play.
“Bite me, Sinclair,” I called over my shoulder.
“We’re going to lose,” Benjamin announced when I stepped inside the relative coolness of the ‘base’ – aka, the registration and refreshment stand. He was on my team, and since he was here, it meant he’d gotten taken out too. Our family version of tag might not fit everybody’s idea of fun, but we liked it.
“Then we’ll kick ass next time,” I told him, moving to grab a bottle of water from the table we had staked out.
Who knew when next time would be, but I didn’t tell him that. Benji was home on break after finishing up basic and advanced training in the army, but that break wouldn’t last forever.
Impulsively, I went over to him and skimmed my hand across the brutally short cut he’d gotten after going into basic. “You ready for all of this?”
“Kicking their ass?” He gave me a cocksure grin, but he knew that wasn’t what I was asking. His gaze slid to the left where Harker, another brother, and our father, Walt, were talking quietly. If he had any second or third thoughts about the military life he’d chosen, he wasn’t going to discuss them in front of those guys.
But whatever minor doubts he might have, I had no doubt he’d handle everything that was coming at him.
That was what we Sinclairs did.
We handled shit.
Dropping down onto the seat next to him, I started to detail just how thoroughly we’d kick the other team’s ass next time when the door opened. A grin split my face when Carl walked in. “You got sacked, didn’t you, big guy?”
He flipped me off.
“Kids, son,” my father reminded him.
The paintball facility that was our current location was hosting a birthday party at the same time we’d booked our group, and while I could have pointed out to Dad that we’d heard some of those kids talking in what could be mildly framed as foul language out on the field, that wouldn’t matter to Walter Sinclair. There were things one did and didn’t do. Cussing around kids was one of them.
Carl just dipped his head in acknowledgment and dropped down next to me on the bench seat. “We’re still kicking your…tail,” he said, looping an arm around my shoulders.
“What goes around,” I reminded him.
One by one, the rest of my brothers joined us. By the time all was said and done, the Sinclair family rounded to a party of eight, and the eight of us made almost as much noise as the party of teens who’d been in here when we first arrived.
I could see the strained look on the face of the kid running the cash register at the snack bar and knew he was counting down the seconds until the boisterous Sinclair clan left.
I couldn’t entirely blame him.
My six brothers and I could be a handful. My dad was quieter, a watcher, as he’d always been, but the one quiet voice among the masses didn’t make much of a difference.
As I chomped on a candy bar, Malcolm took the seat next to me and asked, “How’s the new job going?”
I’d recently started working for the police department, the same one where my father had recently retired from. I was at the same station house where Carl was a desk sergeant. Harker was also a cop, but he was at a different precinct. It was a small blessing, but I’d take whatever I could get.
Like being thankful that all my brothers hadn’t followed in Dad’s footsteps to become cops.
“It’s going.” Hitching up a shoulder in a shrug, I managed a smile. There was absolutely nothing exciting going on with the job right now, but I hadn’t become a cop for excitement.
But my goals were ones that took time and perseverance, just as it had taken time and perseverance to get through college a year early, to get into the police academy and graduate.
They didn’t take it easy on anybody there, and I hadn’t been looking for an easy way. Sometimes, I felt like they’d pushed me even harder because I was a Sinclair, and if so, that was just fine. I was a cop now, and I’d earned it, and I’d earn the next step too.
“You sound so ecstatic.” Malcolm rolled his eyes. “This coming from the girl who’d rather be playing cops and robbers than with dolls? You dreamed of being a cop your whole life, and that’s the most you can say now that you’ve accomplished your dream?”
Making a face at him, I pointed out, “Becoming a cop was just part of the goal. It doesn’t end there. And it’s not like I’m not happy. I’ve never been one to dance a jig over something, so stop.”
“That would be a sight…you dancing a jig.” Malcolm’s eyes lit with laughter.
I went to flip him off.
The sound of a kid’s laughter rose over the noise made by my brothers, and I res
isted the urge.
Barely.
Judging by the look in Malcolm’s eyes, he seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
A few hours later, I cracked open a beer and took it with me to the shower. I had so much muck and grime and sweat on me, I felt like I could spend the rest of the evening in the shower and still not be entirely clean.
After a long, deep drink, I placed the beer on the small shelf and reached for the shampoo. Dirt and sweat washed away as I scrubbed at my short, bright red hair, sighing in relief at being clean.
Once my hair was squeaky clean and dripping into my eyes, I grabbed a sponge and bath gel, one of my few girlish indulgences. Surrounded by guys most of my life, I hadn’t even realized I liked girlish indulgences until a friend had taken me shopping for clothes not long after I graduated from college.
“Look, the tomboy thing works for you, but it’s okay to like some girl stuff too,” she’d said before thrusting a pot of lotion into my face. The scent of it was so good, I almost wanted to eat it.
She’d seduced me with bath and body stuff, then conned me into buying some clothes that actually played up the fact that I was female.
I mostly didn’t mind, and the scents, redolent in the air, were the main reason. How had I gone twenty-two years of my life without discovering some of the more fun aspects of being a girl?
I really didn’t know.
Of course, the person who would have most likely introduced me to all the girlie stuff died when I was six. My mother had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and by the time they found it, it had been too late. The doctors had tried, but it hadn’t worked. She’d been gone so fast.
I hardly even remembered her after sixteen years.
Maudlin now, I grabbed the beer and tipped it back, draining the rest of it as the water rinsed away the perfumed body wash. Even once the last of the suds were gone, I didn’t climb out.
I stood, hands braced against the wall, musing about my long-gone mother…and missing her.
Two
Nicco
The poor kid jumped at even the slightest sound.
I didn’t have to ask to understand what she was afraid of.
Our mutual father was her boogeyman, and Joelle Marks wasn’t yet convinced she was safe.
I wasn’t going to let that bastard screw her up any more than he already had, but it would take time for both of my recently discovered sisters to realize they could trust me.
Sisters.
What a mind trip that was.
Sure, I’d wondered if I might have a brother or sister out there, but I’d never let it go much beyond that idle curiosity. Now, I had to deal with the guilt of never looking. Maybe if I’d done some looking around, found out what kind of shitty father he was, I could have done something.
There were always ways to deal with the bullies of the world, and that included bullies like Gabriel Marks.
My father.
My lip curled even thinking of him, but I smoothed the sneer off my face and fixed it into a neutral expression.
Neither of them needed to know I was dealing with guilt or anger over everything that was going down. The anger would level out. The guilt…well, I had to suck that up and deal with it.
I’d have plenty of time to wonder about what-ifs and things that I could have maybe changed if I’d bothered to look Gabriel Marks up at any point in the past few years.
Now wasn’t that time.
“Nicco?”
At the sound of my mother’s voice, I looked up.
She had a glass of wine in her hand and offered it to me. “It’s been a crazy day. You could probably use this.”
I accepted it with a faint smile and nodded. “Thank you.”
After taking a drink of the pinot noir, I nodded toward the back patio where our guests were currently taking up residence. “How are they?” I asked my mother.
She’d just come in from outside. I’d watched as she carried out a plate of cookies, and I wasn’t surprised that the plate didn’t come back in. I also knew she’d have a few stashed away for me. I’d find them the next time I went into the kitchen.
“Coping.” She lifted a brow and studied me. “How are you?”
Instead of answering, I focused on the glass of wine in my hand.
My mother sighed and shook her head. “I imagine you’re feeling guilty that it came to this. You’re not to blame for any of this, Nicco.”
“I know that.” It was a rare lie I’d just told my mother, and judging by the way her voice firmed, she knew it too.
“Do you?” She touched her fingertips to my cheek and waited for me to look at her. “Then why are you standing here mentally castigating yourself instead of being out there with them?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it as each argument I could have offered fell apart almost as soon as it formed.
When I ended up offering no response, my mother cocked a brow at me, then shook her head. “There was nothing you could have done, Nicco. Maybe you could have gone and looked to see if you had family here in the past few years, true. But before that, you were a child yourself. You couldn’t have done anything. Perhaps I should blame myself for not wanting to know anything else about Gabriel?” She canted her head to the side as she met my eyes, a questioning look in her gaze. “Had I known he had daughters, could I have done anything? Would I have done anything, knowing it might come as a risk to you?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, voice gruff. “It’s not your fault.”
“And it’s not yours, either. You helped when they came to you. That’s what we have to remember. And let’s remember one other thing – he is the one to blame in all of this. So, let’s keep the blame where it belongs.”
Shifting my gaze back to the patio doors, nearly blinded by the glare of the sun, I asked, “Do you think he’ll come looking for us?”
“I can’t tell you what’s in his head, Nicco,” she answered honestly. “But I do know he’s not a foolish man. Too self-aware and too arrogant, but if he senses it better for his self-interest to let this go, that’s what he’ll do.” She patted me on the arm. “It won’t serve his interest to piss you off, now will it?”
“How are you all holding up?”
Eyes slid my way as I stepped outside.
The warm summer sun hit me square on the shoulders as I sat down in the only open seat, one right across from my youngest sister, Joelle. She looked exactly like what she was, a nervous young kid who’d just barely managed to avoid a nasty mess.
Her father had planned to sell her off to a marriage to an older man. Unthinkable, considering she was only sixteen, but I knew from my studies of my father’s people that arranged marriages still happened within the Roma peoples. Most of the more progressive clans wouldn’t force a girl as young as Joelle to marry unless she wanted to, but it didn’t look like progressive described my father’s clan.
Man, was I glad my mother had gotten us away from them.
And shit, was I pissed off that I had two sisters who’d been forced to grow up in that messed-up life.
They’d been planning to marry her off to a man in his early forties, and from what I’d gleaned from Suria and my mother, the man she would have married was a bastard of the highest order.
Suria, the oldest of the two sisters, had come to me for help.
I’d only found out a few days ago that I even had sisters.
But there had been no question of whether or not I’d help.
I had family. Family was supposed to be there for each other.
Joelle was munching on a cookie – one of my mother’s monstrous chocolate and peanut butter chip creations – and she paused long enough to offer a shrug. “Right now, I have a cookie, and that’s all that matters,” she said, feigning a distinct lack of concern.
But the shadows in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders belied the easiness of her words.
Suria gave her a worried look when Joelle wasn’t looking then shifted her gaze
to me. She offered a tight smile. “The cookies are pretty excellent. Think your mother would share the recipe?”
“With the two of you? Absolutely.” I eyed the man sitting next to Suria. His name was Kian, and from what I knew of him, he was a decent enough sort. He made Suria smile, and he’d gone in to help get Joelle to safety. That counted for a lot in my book.
But that didn’t mean he’d get my mother’s chocolate and peanut butter chip cookie recipe. “I can’t speak for you though, man.”
Kian held up his hands. “I’d much rather sit back and enjoy the results myself. I burn more things than I successfully cook.”
“Oh…” I winced and shook my head. “Don’t let my mother hear that. She has a firm belief that all people should know how to cook the basics. If she hears you can’t, she’ll drag you into the kitchen by your ear.”
Suria laughed at that. Kian smirked. “She’d give up on me. My mom did.”
“Give up…not in my mom’s repertoire,” I told him, shaking my head. I focused on Suria once more, the smile fading from my face as we studied each other. “I’ve already told you this, but the two of you are welcome here as long as you need someplace to stay. It doesn’t matter if it’s a few days, a few months…a few years. This is Mom’s condo, but she’s already told me to let you know you’re welcome. I know she’s told you, but I want to reiterate. Just say the word.” I offered a faint smile. “I’d let you stay with me, but it would be cramped. There’s just the one bedroom, and even if I let you have the bed…well, it’s a studio apartment. We’d be miserable.”
