by Emilia Finn
ELEUSIS
STACKED DECK BOOK NINE
EMILIA FINN
ELEUSIS
By: Emilia Finn
Copyright © 2020. Emilia Finn
Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd.
Cover Design: Amy Queue
Editing: Bird’s Eye Books
Cover Photography: Furious Fotog
ISBN: 979 855 603 7656
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?
ELEUSIS
Prologue
1. Olivia
2. Will
3. Will
4. Will
5. Olivia
6. Will
7. Olivia
8. William
9. Olivia
10. William
11. Olivia
12. William
13. Olivia
14. William
15. Olivia
16. William
17. Olivia
18. William
19. Olivia
20. William
21. Olivia
22. William
23. Olivia
Acknowledgments
Also by EMILIA FINN
Looking To Connect?
It’s important you never run from the cops…
Unless you’re really fast.
Giddyup.
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
Winner Takes All
Checkmate
Stacked Deck - Rollin On Next Gen
Wildcard
Reshuffle
Game of Hearts
Full House
No Limits
Bluff
Seven Card Stud
Crazy Eights
Eleusis
Dynamite
Rollin On Novellas
(Do not read before finishing the Rollin On Series)
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/
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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
ELEUSIS
STACKED DECK BOOK NINE
EMILIA FINN
Prologue
William
Twelve months ago…
My sister has been my only family since… well… forever. She was the reason I didn’t tap out of this fucked up world back when I was eight and so hungry, I was tempted to pluck the rib from my own body and nibble. She’s the reason I work so damn hard, and the reason I didn’t roll over years ago when someone tried to slap a murder charge on my back and have me sent far, far away.
That guy tried to place me out of sight, out of mind, so in my absence, he could take my sister and keep her for his own.
I wasn’t a murderer back then. But I sure as hell am now.
And the blood on my hands belongs to that very man.
I call that karma, and I’m not sorry for the actions I took mere hours ago to save my sister’s life. But now I sit alone in my car, my hands shaking, my heart racing as the sun lowers in the sky and tries to blind me. But I drive.
Away from Quinn.
Away from a dead body.
Away from that town that could have been my home, if only the scales of karma weren’t so set on fucking me up.
My head throbs with a headache, and my eyes itch from dried tears. I dropped my sister off on her boyfriend’s doorstep, then I drove away. For the first time in my life, I drove away with no plans to return. I left her in someone else’s care, and now I’m on the run.
Maybe I wasn’t a murderer yesterday, but today, I am.
Maybe yesterday, I was the best protector for her, but today, that’s not true.
When the cops find me, I’m going to prison, and my biggest fear is they might never let me out.
My phone trills from the passenger seat, and since this is an expensive rental car – that I didn’t pay for – the call syncs with the stereo, and the screen in the dash shows a number I’ve called numerous times in the last week or so.
Swallowing and sending my Adam’s apple bobbing, I consider killing the call. Accepting it would be my first step into an orange jumpsuit, my first step toward a maximum-security prison where I’ll never again see sunlight. But something else plays in my blood too, a memory, a promise… another woman’s face.
I hit the green button on the steering wheel, but I say nothing.
“Will?” Shouts echo in my caller’s background. Orders, demands to find me. “Will, you there? It’s me.”
I swallow again, or risk choking on the nerves that won’t allow me to stop shaking. “I’m here.”
“Are you safe?”
I study the open freeway that stretches, never-ending, ahead of me. “Yes.”
“Driving?”
“Yes. I need you to keep an eye on my sister, okay? Keep her safe, no matter what.”
“No matter what,” my caller promises. “You’re not coming back here, are you?”
“I can’t.” My voice cracks, and tears burn my eyes as I furiously reach up to swat them away. “I can’t come back. The cops will get me.”
“What you did could be argued as self-defense, Will. Your crime isn’t killing a man, but running from a crime scene. I can help you fix this.”
“You…” I try to process my
caller’s words. Lies? Empty promises? “I can’t stop shaking,” I rasp out.
“You’re in shock,” she gently replies. “Maybe pull over for a sec. I want to talk to you anyway, and I need you to concentrate.”
“I can’t pull over.” Instead, I press my foot down on the accelerator just a little more. “Can’t go to prison. Quinn will try to visit me, and I can’t–I can’t–I… no. She can’t see me in there.”
“She’d rather see you behind bars than wrapped around a tree because you were speeding and not paying attention. Focus, Will. Pull over for a second. I want to talk.”
“About what?” I lessen the pressure on the gas pedal, and glance in my rearview mirror; for cops, or for other cars? “What do you wanna talk about?”
“I have a deal I’d like you to consider. A one-time deal, the life-changing kind, but you only get the offer once, and after that, it’s gone.”
“A deal…” My brain works like an old, virus-addled computer. Too many pages open, too many tabs, not enough RAM. “A deal?”
“A deal,” my caller purrs as the shouting in their background turns quieter. “It means you can’t come back here, you can’t see your sister – not for a little while, at least. But it’s better than your plan to run to Cabo.”
“Where would you have me go?”
“I have someplace set up, an infrastructure in place for people just like you. At the end of it, if you’re still standing, you’ll be a free man.”
Signaling toward the shoulder of the freeway, I pull off of the tar and onto loose dirt, and when my wheels stop, I press the button for the handbrake and place my forehead on the steering wheel.
“If I’m still standing…” I choke out. “And if I’m not? You’ll take care of my sister, right?”
“I wouldn’t cut the deal with you if I didn’t think you’d make it through. I know guys like you, I know muscle and potential. So I know you’ll be fine. It’ll be tough, but we both know you can work hard.”
“If I go to Cabo, I wouldn’t have to work at all, and I’d still be able to call my sister,” I argue. “I’d be free. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to see her, but I could speak with her.”
“You can speak with her where I’m sending you, too.” My caller pauses. “But you can’t tell her where you are. It has to remain a secret.”
I frown and concentrate on the rhythm of my own breathing.
I don’t want to leave my sister, I don’t want to lie to her, I don’t want to keep secrets. But I shot a man today, right through the fucking head. That’s not self-defense. That’s an execution, and any decent prosecutor worth their degree could prove that.
Swallowing and licking my dry lips, I close my eyes and say the words that are probably going to break more hearts than one.
“Where, and how long?”
Olivia
A Fractured Fairytale
Current day…
“We’re doing dinner and cards tonight at the house.” Ben – my overprotective, almost-always-annoying, but definitely-always-has-my-best-interests-at-heart – big brother stands over me inside the Rollin On Gym and smiles.
This is a rare moment of quiet between classes, so I lean back against the wall and hold my adorable baby nephew, Wes, in my arms.
At some point a few years ago, back when I was firmly entrenched in my ‘I can’t stand my brother being all up in my business all the damn time’ phase, Ben moved out of the family home, married his high school sweetheart, made this handsome baby, and now I miss the hell out of them all.
I guess it was one of those ‘be careful what you wish for’ things, because back then, I hated that Ben insisted on knowing everything about my life. But now, I freely volunteer a lot of stuff just so we can hang out and laugh like old times. I had no clue I would miss the guy I’d nicknamed Sasquatch a lifetime ago, but here I am, a grown woman in her mid-twenties, living on her own in an upscale apartment across town, and I miss the hell out of the overprotective people in my life.
“Liv?” Ben leans closer and tickles the fat rolls under his son’s chin. “Dinner, drinks, cards. You’ve been working too much lately. You make me worry about you.”
I give a dainty little shrug and act like I have better things to do. “Who else is going to be there?”
He scoffs and tries to pass it off as offense. “What? I’m not enough for you?”
Smiling, I lift Wes a little higher and blow raspberries against his cheek until he giggles. “I’m gonna need a little more than the sasquatch to pry me off my couch and into real pants.” I meet Ben’s electric blue eyes – a replica of mine – and grin. “I could be drinking apple cider and wearing sweatpants while I binge-watch something on TV, and I’m just saying, fat girl pants sound awfully appealing after the day I’ve had so far, so if you want me to forgo that kind of luxury…”
“Bean and Mac will be there.”
I grin at the mention of my half-sister and the man who adores her. “Go on.”
“Chuck and Nora. Pretty sure Bry and Iowa, too.”
I frown and lean back against the wall. “You mean Bry and Maddi, and Iowa and Brooke?”
“No,” he snorts. “I mean Bry and Iowa. You didn’t hear they’re a couple now?”
I burst out in little piggy laughs that send Wes into a brand-new meltdown.
He’s almost forty pounds of butterball fat and Michelin man rolls. He’s heavy, solid, and adorable as hell, and when his mother – Evelyn Kincaid – is busy at the same time Ben is, and the other five hundred people in line who want to hang with him are busy, I get to tickle one of his thirty chins and rack up some solid auntie time.
“Who else?” I ask. “Because maybe I want to call Brenten.”
I smile when my brother transforms from doting dad back into his usual sasquatchy self.
“Brenten Pierce can fuck a dead palm tree. You call him, and I’ll break his neck.”
“He’s nice!” I laugh and brush away the threats that would make most men lose their bowels. My brother is a champion fighter, a heavyweight, a world title holder. He’s solid, and he holds a mean grudge. But as his baby sister, I’m duty-bound to send him crazy as often as I can. “If I want to date a nice guy, I can.”
“He’s too old for you.”
“He’s twenty-eight!”
“That’s basically thirty!” Ben blusters. “And thirty is basically forty. I’ll be damned before I ever allow my sister to date a forty-year-old.”
Nobody ever accused Ben of being rational. Or… you know… normal.
“He’s respected in this town,” I counter. “He’s smart, wealthy, holds a prestigious job.”
“Wow!” Ben exclaims. “Since when did you start digging for gold, huh? Plus, Aunt Jules calls him a fuckstick,” he whips right back. “She literally said that at dinner the other night when you mentioned him.”
I roll my eyes and lean back against the wall. “Aunt Jules can’t be trusted to give an unbiased opinion. She’s the Shredder to Brenten’s Donatello.”
Ben merely arches a single brow, studies me with an air of ‘what the fuck?’ then shakes his head. “You’re too smart to be so dumb. I’ll admit he’s book smart… kind of. But he’s a fucking moron when other humans try to speak to him. He lacks any kind of common sense, and,” he adds with a lifted fist, “he’s ugly.”
“He’s not ugly!” I laugh. “He’s handsome, and his eyes are nice.”
“He can’t fight.”
“The vast majority of the world’s population can’t fight, Ben. I know we live amongst a million people who can, so the numbers feel swayed, but most people don’t have pro fighters chaperoning their every move through life. He’s allowed to not choose a sport where he’s awarded trophies in exchange for teeth.”
“First of all,” he fires up with the arm-swinging way of speaking, “back when Mom and Oz started dating, I was the one who said no. You were the goodie-goodie ‘I love my Latino daddy soooo much’ weirdo. So your chaperones?” He leans c
loser. “Your own damn fault. And second, I haven’t lost a single tooth yet, so your argument is invalid and offensive. Also, Jamie and Quinn are gonna be at the house tonight too.”
“Oh yeah?” That changes things. That changes everything. “I like Jamie. He’s a sweetheart.”
“Great!” Ben throws a hand up in exasperation. “Deal. See you at seven, bring dessert.” He snatches his son from my arms, and plops the baby on his hip. “Don’t be late.”
I scowl and mourn the loss of the chunky baby. “You’re bossy.”
“Are you going by Mom and Oz’s place after here?”
“I wasn’t.” I push off the wall. “But I can. What’s up?”
“Nothing, really.” He looks into his son’s eyes and smiles. The Conner genes are strong between father and son. Dark hair, bright eyes, chubby cheeks. The fair-skinned, fair-haired Evelyn Kincaid may have carried my nephew in her stomach, but I’m not sure she got anything else out of the deal. “I haven’t had time to get over there this week,” Ben continues. “I feel bad.”
“So you want me to go over as your… proxy?” I laugh. “Sure, that’ll fix it, dummy.”
“I see Mom here every day,” Ben gestures along the hall. “But this is work. Hugging her at work isn’t the same as hugging her at home.”