Seven Card Stud (Stacked Deck Book 7)

by Emilia Finn

  “Old enough to be your…” I hesitate. “Older sister.”

  He barks out a loud laugh. “Sexy enough for me to be willing to die for.”

  “She’s married. And a mom.”

  “Which is why I only said hey and moved along.”

  “Oh my god, Will. You truly met her?”

  His lips pull up into a kind smile. “I really did. And I know that’s a big deal to you, so I’m sorry you weren’t there.”

  “Instead, I was making friends with Twelve and Three.”

  “Which brings us full circle,” he growls. “Stop making friends! Your male friends are my enemies, and I’m running out of hands and patience for that nonsense.”

  “You don’t have to fight every single guy that looks at me, ya know?”

  “Actually, I do. It was in the big brother handbook they gave me at the hospital. It’s literally in the rules, Bubbles. So you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

  “You’re a pain in my ass.”

  “Yeah, and I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t stop talking to boys.”

  “So… you’re not from around here, huh?”

  “Oh dear lord.” I stand at the deli counter in the supermarket and wait for the girl to hand me sample slices of ham. “You need to go away, Secretary. Get a life…insurance policy.”

  His chest bounces with muted laughter as I collect my toothpicks of ham. Turning away from the glass display, I make my way toward the cheese aisle, and after that, the crackers.

  “Go away, Secretary. I don’t wanna know you.”

  “I wanna know you.” He falls into step beside me so our shoulders brush. All this talk about him being scrawny had my mind playing tricks on me overnight. In my dream, he was reduced to an almost toddler. But now that he stands beside me, I’m forced to notice the six inches of height he has on me. The muscle in his shoulder. The breadth of his chest. He’s not scrawny! And damn, he smells nicer than Three. “Where’d you come from?”

  “My mom’s vagina. You?”

  “Same,” he replies easily. “What town did you come from?”

  “City.”

  “Oh, you’re a city girl? Okay. Which city did you come from?”

  “Gotham.” I toss the ham into my mouth and stop at the small display of sample cheeses. “And no, I haven’t met Batman, so I can’t hook you up. Sorry.” I use my toothpick and select a square of cheese. “Please go away.”

  “Will is at the gym.”

  “Uh huh. He’s training to beat that cop’s son. And I’m busy, so can you…” I flick my hand toward the exit. “Toddle along.”

  “They have mousse cups over by the fridges.” He takes my hand and drags me toward the back of the store. “Are you still in school?”

  “Uh huh. I was gonna graduate last year, but I failed my Defense Against the Dark Arts final when Snape died, so…”

  “Spoilers! Jesus, Cam. You can’t just throw that information out there all willy-nilly like that.”

  “I’m sorry.” I turn to him and flutter my lashes. I’m playing, but damn if his chocolate brown eyes don’t zoom in on the movement. “Snape wasn’t as bad in real life as Harry made him out to be.”

  “And yet, you failed your OWLs? Shame.”

  “I was in mourning.”

  “You going to college?”

  “Nope. Where I come from, college is for the yuppies, not the puppies.”

  “Puppies?”

  “Yeah, you know, the kids on the wrong side of the tracks. The scrappers that have to fight for their turn at the teat. If we don’t fight, we starve. Oh, mousse.” I pick up a mini cup of chocolate fudge brownie, and a little wooden spoon. “Oh man, this is, like, ninety-eight percent cocoa. Hot damn.”

  “I’m not going to college either.”

  I smile and savor the chocolate on my tongue. “I didn’t ask. But thanks for your life story, Secretary.”

  “You don’t have to fight me. I’m not your enemy.”

  “But I do, because you’re another pup scrapping for the teat. Unless your name is William Quinn, you’re my enemy. Excuse me, please, I need savory to undo that sweet. It gave me a headache.”

  I step around the guy that smells so good my nose twitches for more, and make my way back to the cheese.

  “Cameron is a cool name.” He follows me anyway, and grabs onto the loose fabric of my slouchy sweater — not in a strong grasp to stop me, but more because he wants the contact. “Unusual for a girl.”

  “My mom was so high when I was born, she thought I was a boy. Thus, I got a boy name.”

  “She needed the morphine because of your big head?”

  “No, she needed the heroin because my family has a disposition for addictions and drugs. I was born early because she enjoyed shooting up even while smuggling a basketball under her shirt. And I actually do have a big head that I’m a little insecure about, so thanks for bringing it up.”

  “How early were you born?” He pulls me to a stop at the cheese counter and stares down into my eyes.

  If I could afford to be an optimist for a moment, I’d be tempted to say he actually cares.

  “Cam? How early?”

  “I dunno. Like, three in the morning or so. The regular cartoons hadn’t come on yet, we know that for sure.”

  “Class clown.” He rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling. “It’s like trying to hug a fucking cactus.” He sighs. “How long are you guys in town?”

  I smile while his eyes are skyward, because when it’s just me and my thoughts, I can admit he’s kind of charming. And sexy. And not at all scrawny. “We roll out just as soon as they hand Will the belt and cash. Then we’ll be out of your life, and you can go back to who you were before you decided you wanted to scam on the new chick in town.”

  Dark eyes come back down to mine and stare. “You’re here for three more days?”

  I toss a cube of cheese into my mouth and grin. “With those counting skills, I’m finding it hard to believe you’re not going to college. Smart boy like you should be getting a full ride, no?”

  “I choose not to go,” he grits out. “You’re a dancer. Club or stage?”

  I scoff and begin walking toward the cracker aisle. I’m starving, and if I don’t have to pay for a meal, then I won’t. “I suspect my dreams and my reality will look like polar opposites.”

  “So you do have dreams?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” There are no free samples in this aisle, so I grab the cheapest box of crackers and tear them open. “I dream of tutus. I imagine my reality will include thongs and poles.”

  “I know real-life dancers.” He takes a cracker from my packet and bites into it. “I know real-life, tutu-wearing, stage-prancing dancers. I could introduce you.”

  My heart yearns with such fervor that I swear it almost jumps out of my chest. But then I remember I’m the puppy, and teats are limited.

  “I would rather slide on dirty old man laps than owe a guy a favor, or be controlled by him because he introduced me to powerful people.” I press the packet of crackers to his chest until he reaches up and takes them. “See you later, Secretary. Have a nice life.”

  “Meet me at the lake!” he calls out as I walk away. “Cam! Come down after dark. It’s freezing out, so no one else will be out there. I just wanna hang out.”

  “So go.” I turn and walk backwards. “Go there and hang out.”

  “You’ll come?”

  I turn and walk toward the front door. “No, I won’t. Because I’d really like to break a cycle. See ya, Secretary.”

  Jamie

  Mystery Girl

  “You’re gonna get arrested if you don’t stop staring, Jamie.”

  Sitting on the floor in my family’s gym, I glance up and meet my big sister’s eyes. She’s not a hell of a lot older than me, but she’s beautiful, and kind, and selfless. Perhaps the most selfless person I know.

  I tap the rubber mat to my left, and grin when she slides down the wall to sit beside me. />
  Digging her hands into her pockets to fight the chill, and crossing her ankles, she leans against my shoulder, and watches what I watch. Cam is sparring with her brother. She’s not all that skilled at it – very few dancers can also be fighters – but her coach is patient, he smiles when she hits the pads, and swings out fast enough to send her sprawling or get knocked out.

  “It’s like they’re from the school of hard knocks, right?” Bean studies the brother and sister with shrewd eyes. “Kinda reminds me of Mom and Uncle Jon.”

  “You think?”

  “Mm. See how he protects her, watches over her, keeps people away. But he also takes those swings, because he needs her to be able to duck and run. He’ll protect her as best he can, but he also needs her to be capable.”

  “You don’t think they’re like—”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I literally don’t know them, and making assumptions like that is pretty wild. I just meant they remind me of Mom and Jon with how he’s protective, but not coddling. That’s it.”

  “She said her mom’s a junkie.”

  She pulls away and turns to look up into my eyes. “She told you? You’re pals?”

  I scoff. “Not pals. In fact, I think if I was on fire, she’d consider grabbing a hose to be too much work. But I caught her at the store yesterday, and she mentioned how her mom was a junkie, so she was a premature baby. But then again, she also said she’s from Gotham City, and Snape was her teacher at Hogwarts, so…”

  “So which is true, which is false…?” She turns back to watch the duo. “I think it’s probably best if you let this fish go, Jamie. She’s not from around here, she doesn’t want to be here, and she doesn’t seem all that keen to know you.”

  “But she might be the one.”

  Quiet laughter makes her shoulders bounce. “And she might not be. You’re going to a lot of trouble for the chick who may or may not be a wizard.”

  “Witch. And we were raised on Harry Potter, so, hell, that might be a sign, no?”

  “Could be. Or maybe this whole thing will be a waste of time, and your one is actually that chick over there.” She nods toward a fighter in the octagon with Smalls.

  Veronica, that’s her name. She doesn’t live here, but she doesn’t live in Gotham City, either. She’s a lightweight, and she’s got no hope of beating Bean at the tournament this weekend. I’m not being mean, nor am I playing favorites. We were raised to spot a fighter, we were conditioned to find the champions. And Veronica isn’t one of them.

  “Nah, that’s not her.”

  “Have you talked to her? She’s nice, and she’s pretty.”

  “Have you talked to Cam?”

  Relaxing back against the wall, Bean shakes her head. “Can’t say I have. I talked to Will for a minute when he weighed in. Scary dude, but respectful. He didn’t give us trouble.”

  “He was gonna skewer me with a fucking pitchfork.”

  She laughs. “That’s because you were looking at his sister. You don’t remember how many times Uncle Jon threatened Daddy’s life? Even now, twenty years after the wedding, he’s still on a rampage. If you’re set on that chick, then you’d better strap in and start wearing armored shirts to keep the forks out.”

  “I’m not set on her,” I murmur. “I’m just… curious, ya know? Kincaids feel something when someone walks into their life. It could potentially be the biggest mistake I’ll ever make to slink away just because the dude is protective.”

  “So what are you gonna do? Set up a kissing booth and hope she pays the dollar?”

  Bringing my knees up, I rest my forearms on them and frown. “You and Mac…”

  She scoffs. “Are none of your business.”

  “No, wait. Hear me out. You’re just friends, right? Just buddies. But the whole world knows he’s your one.”

  Bitterness flows in the air just as potently as the scent of roasting coffee beans. “He hasn’t quite gotten the memo on that.”

  “But you’re still here, still with him every day, still waiting, and hoping, and watching over him.”

  “When a Kincaid knows,” she whispers reverently. She has no Kincaid blood in her body, we both know it, but still. Around here, family is family. “I just know what I know,” she finishes.

  “And you can’t walk away. No matter how much he pushes you back, you can’t walk.”

  She draws in a long breath, then lets it out on a sigh. “No, I can’t walk away. No matter how much he says it’s not gonna happen. I can’t let it go.”

  “So I guess you know my answer.”

  Pushing to my feet with a grunt, I turn back and pull her up beside me. I sling my arm over her shoulder, and grin when the movement catches Cam’s attention. Her eyes flick to us, they skim over Bean’s legs – her dancer legs – and stop on my eyes. Unfortunately for her, Will’s pad swings around too fast when she isn’t watching, clips her on the jaw, and flings her forward six or so feet until another fighter catches her before she plows into the floor.

  The dude, the fighter, holds on for a moment too long, a possessive minute where he wonders if the woman of his dreams literally fell into his arms, but then Will steps up and does that thing he does with his eyes.

  Cam is released, the fighter disappears, and my quiet snicker spikes Cam’s fury.

  “That was mean,” Bean murmurs. “You set her up for that.”

  “I did nothing. She thinks she’s a badass who can fight, then she’d better pay attention to what’s happening around her. Also, she wants to be a dancer.” I look down and smile for my sister. “You’d know all about that.”

  Her sculpted brows wing up. “Is she classically trained?”

  “Hell if I know,” I scoff. “Does it look like I’ve gotten a single straight answer out of her yet?”

  “So how do you know she wants to dance?”

  “Her legs, for starters. Her toes. Her shoulders.”

  She flicks my arm off her shoulder and takes a step away. “You spend way too much time at the studio,” she scowls. “You do not need to get there an hour early to drive me home, you know?”

  “I’m just doing my due diligence and all that.”

  “Really?” She shakes her head. “Your due diligence?”

  “My soulmate could be hanging out with you. It’s my duty to check, and plus, if she’s already your friend, then that’s good. One less person to be up in our space. The dinner table is already kinda crowded, so…”

  “You’re a pig.” She catches Smalls’ hand as she steps out of the cage, but keeps her eyes on me. “I’m going to train, and you’ve gotta go find a different girl to watch. That one,” she points at Cam, “seems to be unavailable.”

  “Jamie.” Smalls stops in front of me and purses her lips. “Stop checking out our fighters. It’s unprofessional to treat this place like a meat market for dates.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong! Geez. Everyone assumes I’m scamming all the chicks.”

  “Just thirty at a time, then?” She flips back her platinum blonde curls, and smiles. “She can’t fight for shit, by the way.”

  “No, she can’t.”

  “But she thinks she can.”

  I dig my hands into my pockets and nod. “Yes, she does.”

  “Dangerous combination,” she mutters. “Those are the girls who find themselves in bad situations, and are unable to get out of them without a bunch of trouble.”

  “So I guess it would be my civic duty to keep watch. Keep her secret. Keep her safe.”

  “Nerd. Go get changed and start training. You spend too much time in jeans, and not enough time actually training.”

  “I’m not even competing this year. I have a whole year to prepare.”

  “You could have had more time. Instead, you’ll lose, and bitch when Mac beats your ass. Now go get changed, then teach a class. This place is packed. We need help.”

  The girls walk away and don’t even realize the posse of fighters that follow them everywhere the
y go. Even Will watches them, which means he’s not watching me as I study Cam. Her hair is braided into plaits on each side of her head. Wispy bits hang loose to frame her face, but it looks more like the pieces tugged free from the wind, and not because she did it for a fashion statement. She’s standing on our mats in sneakers, which is like breaking the law, but since we’re so busy, I guess no one told her.

  I would be remiss to leave it unsaid. I’m employed by this gym, after all… sorta. So when Will is called into the octagon by another heavyweight, I meander toward the wall Cam backs up against.

  I could swear she doesn’t see me, since her head is pointing in the complete opposite direction, but she still manages to tense up once I’m within two feet of her. “You need to go away, Secretary. Just because Will walked doesn’t mean he isn’t watching.”

  “He’s busy, and you’re wearing shoes on our mats.”

  She looks away from the octagon and peers down at her shoes with a frown. “Huh?” Her eyes come up – a perfect, summer sky blue, even though we’re in the dead of winter – and flicker between mine. “What are you talking about?”

  I point at the octagon, then at the other fighters surrounding us. “We don’t wear shoes in here.”

  “Sounds like the perfect recipe for tinea. I think I’ll pass.”

  “No shoes on the mats,” I press. “It’s disrespectful.”

  “I’m not taking my shoes off.” She folds her arms and lifts her chin. “I refuse.”

  “Then I’m gonna have to insist you step off the mats, and onto the concrete.”

  “What does it matter to you, Secretary? Why do you care? Are you the cleaner too?”

  I tip my chin and grin when her eyes turn to slits. “I’ve cleaned my fair share around here. Now get off our mats.”

  “You’re a dick.”

  She swings away so fast that her braids almost whip me. But I got what I wanted, because she leaves this main room, and moves through the front door into the parking lot. She moves so fast that Will doesn’t see her leave. And because I’m a regular fucking martyr, I follow her out.