Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck Book 8)

by Emilia Finn

  “Exactly!” I snap my hand from her grasp and throw it into the air. “Exactly. There is no connection. You’re supposed to be helping Will, but you’re fucking around here with a dance that ain’t even right anyway.”

  “The dance ‘ain’t right’?” She zeroes in on the wrong point, and takes another step forward. “That dance is pure stage perfection. Don’t come in here and disrespect our hard work.”

  “It’s not right!” I lean a little to the right and meet Lucy’s eyes. “The song is fine. You could pick just about any song in existence, and it would be fine. Your routine is wrong.” I look back to Soph. “And my brother is now left hanging in the wind, because we trusted you to take care of him. I took Jamie’s good opinion of you, and trusted you to do the right thing by Will.”

  “How do you know what I’m doing for Will, huh? Are you in my computers? My phone?”

  “No, I—”

  “Are you in my brain?”

  “No! I’m in your studio, watching you screw up a dance, when you could be sitting at a computer helping Will. Or better yet, you could be with him back home, keeping him safe, and doing whatever the hell it is that Jamie is so certain you’re capable of.”

  “I have a family here, little girl. I have children, a husband, a business, sisters, dancers. I have responsibilities. So why the hell would you assume I would drop my life to go be Will’s sidekick?”

  “Because Jamie promised!” I grit out. “He promised that you would take care of my brother. He said I could trust him, and by extension, I could trust you. But you’re here dancing instead of helping him.”

  “I can’t do shit right now, kid. The whole world doesn’t revolve on your schedule, you know? Not even Evan McGrady and his shady dealings. He owns a nightclub, which implies late night hours. The sun barely came up two hours ago, which means McGrady and his fucksticks are asleep.”

  “So do something! Do it now, while they’re sleeping.”

  “I am doing something.” Soph turns away from me, and heads toward Lucy. “I’m working on a routine that is important to us. I schedule reports to run even while I’m away from my desk, and I put your brother on a damn plane only an hour ago. So you know what?” She reaches Lucy, but turns back to me. “Sit the fuck down, child. And let the grownups work.”

  “On a plane?” I step forward with a pounding heart. Tingling hands. Heavy legs. “Will’s on a plane? But…” I shake my head. “He can’t. He doesn’t have proper ID.”

  “But he does,” she counters. “He has real ID, real medical insurance, real bank accounts, and even a real resumé that would land him a pretty decent job so long as he turned up to the interview. And since we’re on that thread, I have the same for you. ID, insurance, passport, license. You had a job offer, but I don’t much like your attitude.”

  “No, wait. Stop.” I dash across the room, and grab Soph’s arm when she tries to get Lucy to step into position to restart. “Soph. My brother is on a plane?”

  My heart breaks. I know it shouldn’t, but right there in my chest, behind my ribs, hidden somewhere deep between muscles, my heart fractures and splits.

  “Where is he flying to?” Away, my brain screams at me. He’s going far, far away, and he won’t tell me where. “Are you sending him somewhere new so he can hide?” Without me.

  “He’s on his way here,” she answers in monotone. “He was set to go to a meet last night with someone who might have been able to help him. I stayed awake a bunch of nights this past week running the data.” She glares deep into my eyes. I said she was doing nothing for us, and she’s saying she’s lost a lot of sleep for us. “Will arrived at the drop last night to find this contact already dead.”

  I gasp and slam my hand over my mouth. “No.”

  “He was our big hope, but now he’s out, which means I need to find a new snitch. In the meantime, Will’s flying here on a new ID, he can hang out with you and soothe your fragile sensibilities, and between dance classes,” she grits out, “I’ll find me a new snitch. Now, if that’s all, boss, I have a routine to work on. You’re not the only person on this planet who counts on me.” She brushes me off with a dismissive wave that almost brings me to my knees.

  I worship the ground Sophia dances on. I cherish every single instructional video she has ever made. And because I can’t see past my blinding fear for my brother, I have just found myself dismissed.

  “Go.” She waves me off again. “He should be here soon. I sent a couple guys from Checkmate to pick him up, so he’s safe. But you, on the other hand, are at serious risk of getting your ass beat.”

  “Soph, I’m—”

  “Get out of my studio,” she orders. “I wasn’t at your homecoming last night, but I got word of Jamie’s condition once you arrived. He came home in bad shape, and it was because of you. Your big mouth causes damage to others, and your inability to control your attitude is unattractive to me.”

  Ouch.

  Swallowing, I drop my gaze and nod. “You’re right. I have impulse issues, and I’m obsessed with keeping my brother safe. I sacrifice other people for him. I’ve sacrificed Jamie a bunch of times.” I turn away and head toward the exit. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.” I stop at the door, and glance back. “I’m a jerk. That’s a universally known fact, but I also know when it’s time to say sorry. So, uh… sorry. And that move you can’t get right? I think if you got Lucy to scissor her legs up, then lift her into the thing with her leg out—”

  “Arabesque?”

  “Yeah.” I lick my dry lips and look to the floor. “Try scissoring, then lifting. Arabesque, then continue on, maybe that’ll help the rest stick.”

  I wave to Lucy, and curse the embarrassed burn that spreads in my cheeks. Humiliated, and put in my place. Exactly where I should be. “I’ll get out of your way now.”

  “Wait.” Jay bounds to his feet and grabs my arm. Meeting my eyes for a moment, he releases me, and turns back to his wife. “Sugar Plum. You remember that time at Murphy’s Law? The dance club where I found you sliding on a guy’s lap for a few dollars?”

  “Jay…” Soph shakes her head. “Don’t.”

  “You remember the guy you took into another room?”

  “Jay!”

  He looks around the studio, then back to the door to check if anyone is listening. “You pushed a blade through that guy’s jugular.”

  My eyes flare wide in shock.

  Lucy… doesn’t seem all that bothered.

  “Do you remember that other guy? What was his name? The one who claimed he was only a soldier.”

  “Joshua Kyle,” Soph mutters.

  “Mm, him. You killed him too.”

  “Actually, no,” she counters. “That was Angelo. I only stabbed him.”

  From holding a hand over my mouth to now pressing it to my stomach, I breathe through the nausea that rolls in my gut.

  Is this their subtle way of warning me? Of letting me know what they’re capable of?

  “Good memory.” Jay takes another step forward. “You took a lot of men out that year I met you, Sugar Plum. Now tell me why?”

  “Jay,” she groans. “Stop it.”

  “Do you want me to say it? Because I will. I’ll do it.”

  “It was for Ellie,” she huffs. “For my sister.”

  “Right.” Jay stops in front of her, and pulls her chin up so she looks into his eyes. “It was for your sister. It was to avenge a terrible injustice for an innocent person. Some could even say you were obsessed.”

  “Jay…”

  “Quinn has yet to stick a blade in a guy’s throat, or burn his dick off with a blowtorch.”

  Her lips twitch with the ghost of a smile. “That was Spencer, not me.”

  “Oh, right.” He drops a kiss to her lips and laughs. “My mistake. You were busy eating a protein bar while Spence burned a dude’s dick off. I can’t believe I messed that detail up.”

  “You can shut up now. You’ve made your point.”

&nb
sp; “I’m just saying. Maybe she’s obsessed with keeping her brother safe, but everyone in this room knows we’ve done the same. You and Ellie, me and Kane, even Lucy and Jamie. So why is Quinn the only one being called out on it?”

  “Because she said mean things to me.”

  He snickers under his breath and pulls her in for a hug. “I’m certain you’ll get over it. Jess says mean things to you all the time, and Lucy told you to fuck yourself only a few minutes ago.”

  “I said screw you,” Lucy cuts in.

  “But you meant go fuck yourself,” Jay counters.

  He turns to me after chucking Lucy’s chin, and waves me forward. “Your brother is gonna get into town at eleven, which means you have a couple of hours to help with that scissor thing you wanna do.”

  “Oh, no, it’s okay.” I take a step back, and almost trip on Giselle. “I forgot my place for a minute, but I remember now.” I look to Soph. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. I respect the hell out of you, both in dance, and in what you’re doing for us. I let my emotions fuck me over for a second, but I promise not to toss that shit at you ever again. I’m just gonna let myself out, and probably never show my face around here ever again. Come, Giselle.” I turn and step through the doorway

  “Giselle!” Soph snaps. “Stay.”

  I poke my head back through the door and scowl. “Giselle. Come.”

  “She’s not coming with you,” Lucy drawls. “Her hierarchy starts with Jamie, then me, then Soph. She only met you yesterday, so if you want her to listen to you over us, you’re gonna have to earn it.”

  “So I guess I’ll just…” Leave her?

  “Come in here,” Soph says with exasperation. “First of all, you need an education on dance moves and their names. You can’t be saying ‘do the spinny thing,’ and expect us to know what the fuck is up. Second, come and explain the scissor thing, because I’m about to slam Lucy’s head against a brick wall if she doesn’t stick that move.”

  “Classy.” Lucy steps past Soph with a roll of her eyes, but she smiles for me, and flips the stereo on. “Real classy, Soph. You talk about all your students that way?”

  “Oh please. You haven’t been my student in years.” Soph looks to me. “Come in here. Talk us through the move. Don’t make your shoulder worse while you’re doing it.”

  Jamie

  Reconnect

  At the knock on my front door, I leave my kitchen counter and the post-it Quinn left behind, and cross my house at an almost trot.

  I don’t quite know what I’m feeling, knowing Will is in town. I have a lot of misguided anger aimed at him, simply because his problems have been made Quinn’s problems. If he went away, so would her reasons for running. But at the same time, he’s never been a dick to me. Not really. And him being here means Quinn won’t run.

  Not until he leaves again, anyway.

  I swing open the door, and nod at the three men who stand on my porch. Will, Kane Bishop, and Spencer Serrano; the actual Spencer, from whom my fake club membership took inspiration.

  “Hey.” I step aside, and let them wander into my home.

  Giselle isn’t here, and the fact she’s not underfoot is strange to me. I want her back, but she’s with Quinn. I want Giselle here with me, because she’s my crutch when I don’t have Quinn. Now Quinn has Giselle, and the universe gave me Will and a couple of men from the Checkmate crew.

  “Just drop your bags over there.” I point toward the hallway leading upstairs, and tell Will, “I’ll show you your room in a bit.”

  Scoping out my place, and poking his head around corners, Will nods and drops his bags where he’s told. “Where is she?”

  “She’s at the studio with Soph and Luce,” Kane answers for me. “She’s been there a few hours.”

  “Does she know I’m here?”

  Spence walks to my fridge, opens it wide, and helps himself to the pasta dish my mom left in there yesterday. “Jay told us Soph handed Quinn a can of whoop ass.” He turns to the counter with the entire pasta dish, and goes searching in my cupboards for a bowl. “Quinn copped an attitude with our ballerina, our ballerina fired shots right back.”

  Will sits on a stool and rests his elbows on the counter. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume, for all of your safety, that those shots were verbal, and not actual bullets.”

  “I’d prefer the bullets,” Kane quips, snagging a second bowl for himself. “Soph smacks down like a streetfighter on Ritalin. She wouldn’t have been gentle.” He drops the bowl in front of Spence. “I would one-hundred-percent choose the actual bullets. They hurt less.”

  “You’re being dramatic.” I roll my eyes. “Soph is… well, she’s really to the point. If Q said shit to Soph that wasn’t true, then she needs to be called on it. If what she said was fair, then Soph would have taken it on the chin and moved on with her life.”

  “So which was it?” Will asks. “What did Bubbles say?”

  As a group, the three of us shrug.

  “But she didn’t die,” Spence adds. “We’d know if she did, so you’re set for your happy little reunion in about…” He checks his watch. “When I finish eating.”

  “That was our dinner for tonight,” I growl. “Ass. My mom made that for us.”

  “Fight me for it.” He sets down his bowl, and spins the fork in his hand so it’s no longer a utensil, but a weapon. “Winner takes all.”

  “Shove it up your ass. You guys can finish up here. Will.” I cross the kitchen and snag my keys from the hook by the door. “I’ll take you to her.”

  “Yup.” He jumps up from the stool without so much as a goodbye for the others. He grabs a hat from on top of his bags, checks his pockets for his wallet and phone, then he follows me outside and past the rental to my truck. “Not your SUV?”

  “Rental.” I climb into my side of the truck, and wait for Will to climb into his. “Soph had it organized for me, but she hasn’t said anything about returning it yet. You can probably use it while you’re in town if you want. I’m done with it.”

  “Thanks. I might take you up on that.” He sits back in Giselle’s usual seat, and relaxes as we amble out of my driveway and onto the road. “How is she?”

  “Emotionally stunted.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, I got that. I mean how is she otherwise?”

  “Emotionally unavailable. Oh.” I look to him and purse my lips. “You meant physically. She’s fine. Her shoulder needs medical attention, like, weeks ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if she needs reconstruction at this point. She hurt her hand a couple nights ago while fighting in a bar. Her feet may be a little tender, you know, from all the kicking-me-in-the-face she did.”

  He turns away to hide his smile.

  I shrug. “She’s fine. She’s just… she’s Quinn. She rolls with whatever is happening in her life, and she jokes it all away, because that’s her defense mechanism. But she’s looking for an out, so when you run, she’s going with you.”

  “She said that?”

  I scoff. “Not to my face. But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” I slow at the railroad tracks leading into town, and after I check to make sure no trains are coming, we amble across in my squeaky truck. “She’s gonna run with you. Which means it’s time for me to prepare.”

  He frowns and turns to me. “Prepare?”

  “To lose her.” I sigh. “She’s not mine, she can never be mine. At least this time, I’ll have a few days to prepare for my loss. But, uh…” I chew on my bottom lip for a moment to stop the hurtful things I want to say to him. Things like ‘fuck off’ and ‘never come back’. “If you decided to stay, she would stay. I think, if she had no reason to leave, she could be happy with me. She would choose happiness for herself if she wasn’t so afraid for you.”

  Will swallows and sends his Adam’s apple bobbing as we turn onto Main Street. “I didn’t intend for any of this to happen, Jamie. I didn’t kill Nate, I didn’t ask to be put onto wanted lists. I’ve never met Evan McGrady in my life. And while his wife dying
sucks, that wasn’t on me either. I’ve never killed a person in my life, but I’m wanted for that crime.”

  “It’s really fuckin’ unfair.”

  Nodding, he studies the street in front of us. “It’s really, really unfair. The irony is, if I’d cut a deal back when they first picked me up for it, if I’d said Yup, cuff me, take me away, I’m sorry for what I did, it’d almost be time for parole.” He looks to me with pure torment in his eyes. “It would almost be over, Bubbles would be free, and in just a little more time, I’d be free too. Instead, not only am I not free now, but each day that passes, my sentence is being lengthened. They’re gonna send me somewhere far away and have me killed, and when Quinn follows and throws herself down to save me, they’ll kill her too.”

  Fuck off, then, and leave, my brain screams. Don’t tell her where you’re going. Disappear, and she’ll get over it eventually.

  But she won’t get over it. I know she won’t. And if I say those things, and he listens, I’ll be just another reason for her emotional trauma. To love her means to be selfless, right? To sacrifice myself to make her happy. So instead, I pull into the studio parking lot and cut the engine.

  “Yes,” I murmur and draw his attention. “Yes, that’s what she’s gonna do. And that’s how it’s all gonna end. She’ll toss herself down to protect you, and she’ll die because of it. You’ll kill the man who did it, you’ll fulfill the prophecy they wrote for you ten years ago, and after all this, you’ll end up in a cell anyway. And… well, they’ll win.”

  I slam my palm against my steering wheel. Once, twice, three times, until the entire frame of my truck bounces. “They’ll win. Whoever the fuck they are, whether it’s McGrady or someone else, they’ve been playing the long game, and in the end, they’re gonna win.”

  “I should have let them take me when this began.”

  “Yes.” I sigh. “No. Maybe. I have no fucking clue. I wanna say yes, but that’s just me being a selfish prick. But maybe the answer is no, because without you, she would have ended up in a foster home or some shit. That could have been hell for her.”