Busted (Stacked Deck Book 11)

by Emilia Finn

  “Kinda like you,” Chute coughs out, only to choke on a laugh when I pluck a hair from his thigh in retaliation.

  “Well… good talk.” Daddy pushes off the partition and stands tall, then coming around to stop by me, he hugs my face to his stomach, bends and drops a kiss to the top of my head, then studying Chute’s leg, he makes a satisfied sound in the back of his throat. “I like how you added your name, baby. The font is really cool.”

  “Wait, what?” Chute jolts and shoves up to his elbows. He tries to look over his shoulder, to study his leg, but he’s too long, and his eyes aren’t young anymore. “Emma fuckin’ Kincaid!”

  “I thought my name was Darlin’?” I smirk and push him back down so I can work. “Be still, or I might mess up my last name.”

  “Gonna kick your ass,” the man grumbles and flops to his stomach. “Why I continue to come back here, I’ll never know.”

  “Because I draw better than Ian,” I remind him. “And I’m cute too.”

  “You sure are,” Daddy confirms. “Get your car over to the garage or something. Maybe Ang can work that scuff out.”

  “He’s a mechanic, Daddy. Not a smash repairer. Besides, I bet it comes out at the car wash.”

  He turns to wander away. “If you say so.” Then he crosses the studio. “Ian, we gotta talk about this bit of skin on my back.”

  “Yeah?” Ian sets his pencil down and sits taller when Daddy stops by his desk. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s bare. I got some shit I wanna put there.”

  I don’t finish Chute’s leg until closer to three, though I was hoping for around one or two. My blood sugar dropped around one-thirty, Zelda brought me a chicken caesar wrap from the diner, complete with a love letter from our waitress that mentioned not picking the lettuce out and tossing it aside, then after wrapping Chute’s leg and tossing my equipment in for sterilization, I pocket my cash, type Chute in for his next appointment – he’s a tiny bit obsessed with me – then I walk through the back door of the studio and stop by my car. It’s parked exactly where I left it, but it’s cleaner now, sparkling.

  Daddy washed my car, and since he didn’t have my keys, he did it by hand, with a sponge, hose, and bucket.

  With my phone in one hand, my keys in the other, I walk a slow lap around the Mercedes with a lump in my throat. Because I’m so unbelievably loved, so continuously thought of and taken care of.

  And I may be on the brink of something else, something massive with my very best friend.

  Isn’t that what relationships are supposed to be? Friendship first, then the sex later? Which means Rob and I are destined to make something magical. We have two decades of on-the-job experience with undying friendship, and after last night, we know the sex is amazing.

  Smiling, I open my car door and slide in while warmth fills my cheeks, then closing the door again, I start the engine and plan ahead. Ten minutes from now, I could be in his arms again, kissing, touching, and until we share our news with others, hiding from Luke and playing a game of chicken while we wait for him to figure us out.

  He’ll be the first, I’m certain. He’s always in our space, like the third wheel we’ve never minded having.

  Backing away from Inkalot, satisfied with the purr of my thrashed engine, I pull out of the tiny parking space and into an alleyway that is only one car wide. The fencing on both sides is old and worn down, but no one is all that inclined to spend money to fix it up. No one comes over here to mess with us. No one would dare piss Ian Moses off… well, no one except me, since being cute tends to buy me a slice of immunity that few others receive.

  When I get to the end of the alleyway and pause at the entrance to a regular commuter street, I glance right, then left. There’s no one coming, of course. There rarely is. But I look out of habit, and when my sluggish brain acknowledges the coast is clear, I pull left and head to Main Street.

  I was born and raised in a town small enough that there is only one Main Street. Only one gas station. Only one cinema, but it’s not one of those chain brand kinds, but rather, a family owned establishment that gets the new releases a week or so after the cities do. They still have an old-fashioned popcorn maker, and in the lobby, an antique film projector that no doubt kept townspeople entertained in the forties and fifties.

  We have two schools here, but they’re the from-kindy-to-graduation kind. Once your parent enrolls you in their school of choice, that’s usually where you stay until the end, and it’s not uncommon to reach adulthood, to go to parties or other social functions, and meet people who’ve lived here their whole lives… but you never knew each other, because they were in the other school.

  There used to be two nightclubs in town – my family owned and operated one of them – but we shut ours down a few years back, which means Rhino’s now has a monopoly on booze and bad choices.

  There is more than one fight gym in town, but ours is the best – it’s a universally known fact that the folks over at Devil’s Muay Thai wish they could usurp that title.

  They can’t. Because they’re not us.

  There are a few apartment buildings scattered around within a couple blocks of Main. Not enough that we have high-rises, but a couple stretch as high as five stories tall… and one of them is where Rob and Luke are moving today.

  Their way of having their own space, but without actually investing fists of money in something they don’t intend to stay in forever.

  I head toward that building now with an odd bubbling of nerves in my stomach that makes me want to pull over and puke. And that – the fact I’m nervous – makes me more nervous.

  The Hart twins are a part of the very fabric of my life. They’re a part of me, just as I am a part of them. So why the hell does my stomach begin to bubble and squirm? Why am I freaking out?

  Oh, that’s right. Because I slept with my best friend last night.

  It was good… it was amazing. But now what? Am I afraid he’ll have changed his mind?

  No way.

  He loves me.

  Rob and Luke have been planning today’s move for weeks. The packing boxes were brought in, and several days last week, I found myself shopping with Rob for basic needs – plates, cups, utensils.

  There’s a reason Daddy worries about me moving out with them; I’m entirely too involved with the twins’ lives, and if the three of us end up living together, I doubt there’s a single person who knows us that would be surprised.

  Pulling up at the curb outside the red-brick building I slept in last night, I kill the engine and snatch out my keys. I grab my phone, a bottle of water to help rinse away the dregs of last night’s headache, then climbing out of the car, I slam the door and glance across at the sight of Luke’s Bronco parked across two spaces, and beside it – nice and neat in one space – Rob’s truck sitting in a type of apology for his brother’s carelessness.

  I pass the vehicles and shake my head at the box in the bed of Rob’s labeled ‘books’, then at the way the Bronco’s driver’s side door sits ajar. Luke really just doesn’t give a shit about how to park or use a car, and if someone just so happened to steal it, I genuinely think he’d shrug his shoulders and go on with his life.

  I consider carting the box of books up the stairs, my helpful contribution for this move, but my body aches from exhaustion, and my stomach swirls with nerves, so deciding against it, I leave it behind and carry only my bottle of water.

  Moving up one flight of stairs, then another, I collect stray belongings as I go, just like I have my whole life. A pair of rolled socks – Luke’s, no doubt – and a hat that must’ve fallen off while the guys were carrying something heavy… Rob’s hat.

  I bundle things in my arms and make my way to their apartment door as memories from last night play in my mind. Stopping at the entrance, I poke my head inside and frown at the mess.

  This room was completely empty when I left this morning, but now a circular table sits in the middle of the kitchen, mismatched chairs surround
ing the outside. Boxes rest stacked on top, and on the top of that, the package of drinking glasses I bought them just last week.

  The glasses were part of a Star Wars merchandise sale, so each glass has a different character beveled into the side. Chewbacca, Leia, Han Solo, and Vader. A seemingly silly gift for a couple of grown men, but these guys were raised in a home of Jedis – Luke was named for Skywalker himself – so finding something so cool was a guaranteed purchase for me.

  “Rob!” Luke’s voice is deep, dangerous and mean as he calls out from somewhere inside the apartment. “Come here, asshole.”

  “Fuck you!” he booms back. “I’m busy.”

  “You’re not moving in too, are you, miss?”

  I turn to find a little old lady – she can’t be even five feet tall, nor is it possible that she weighs a hundred pounds – standing in the hall with a screwed-up nose and a cute brooch pinned to her floral dress. She leans a little to the left, glances into the apartment, then comes back to meet my eyes with dissatisfaction blazing in hers. “They’ve been cussing since they got here. No way are you moving in with those three, are you?”

  “Three?” My stomach drops as thoughts of Grace Risotto batter at my aching brain.

  No way is she here, right? That’s absolutely not why Rob has been too busy to text me all day…

  Right?

  My feet tingle and want to race into that apartment and hurt some people, but I remain in place and pretend to be a normal human being.

  “Um… no.” I clear my throat. “I’m not moving in. But they’re family, so you’ll probably see me around.” Maybe.

  “They’re big,” the woman whispers. “Really big. And they have all those drawings on their arms.”

  Forcing a smile, I slide my right sleeve up to reveal my own ink. She’s scandalized by it, horrified – but conflicted, because I smile and seem friendly. “Having ink is art, Mrs….?”

  “Mabel,” she says. “You can call me Mabel. And tattoos are for criminals.”

  “Not anymore,” I laugh and lower my sleeve. “Nowadays, ink is for the wealthy. It’s not cheap, Mabel. It’s art, it takes time, and to get an appointment with a good artist, you’re often waiting months, which implies the work is well thought out. Those guys?” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “They’re sweethearts. They’re a little excitable sometimes, they can be a tad loud when they’ve had sugar. And they kinda look scary.” I shake my head. “But they’re really not scary at all. Bring them cookies one single time, and you’ll have bought yourself security for the rest of your life.”

  “Cookies?” She jolts when Luke bellows something about ‘pussy bitches’ and ‘dirty cows’… I get the feeling he stubbed his toe. “They like cookies?”

  Chuckling, I set my pile of things just inside the front door and free up my hands to drink a little water. “They like food, full stop,” I tell her. “Cookies come with sugar, which, to them, is extra special. Which apartment is yours?”

  “Just across the way,” she gestures to the door a couple feet away. The door that, my aching brain teases, cracked open at some point late last night while Rob and I noisily got inside. Behind Mabel’s door, I suspect I’d find doilies, dolls, and murder mysteries on the television. “I like my quiet, Miss…?”

  “Emma.” I bring my water up and take another long swallow to beat out my exhaustion and copious caffeine consumption. “My name is Emma. Their names are Rob and Luke; they’re twins, so you might never be able to tell them apart, but they’re both sweet. They’re both employed, so your daytime quiet will return soon, and even though they tend to disrespect sleep time, they’re not overly rude about it. They keep themselves awake watching shows they really shouldn’t. But they won’t make too much noise about it.”

  “And you…” She firms her lips when Luke cusses again. “You’re not going to live here too? Maybe if you did, you could remind them their neighbor likes the quiet.”

  “I’m not moving in,” I snicker at the desperation in her voice, “but they’re my best friends. Family. So I’ll be around a lot, and if you’re ever having trouble…” I reach into my back pocket, to a business card I was writing an appointment on today. I messed up the date, so I started again on a new card, and shoved this one into my pocket so I would remember to toss it in the trash later.

  Oops.

  I place the card in her palm, point when she turns it over to read. “Like I said, I’m Emma. My cell number is there on the bottom, and my email too. Anytime you need to, you can call me, and I’ll come take care of business.”

  “If they’re being noisy late at night?”

  “Call me. I’ll call them and tell them to knock it off.”

  “And they will? They listen to you?”

  “They certainly do. But in this case, it’s less about them listening to me, and more to do with the fact that they’re actually truly respectful guys. Sometimes they may forget that they have neighbors. So they’ll just need to be reminded.”

  “And if I bring them cookies?”

  I bark out a loud laugh, then turn when I feel a Hart’s presence at my back. I move in the doorway, step a little to the side, and though inside I deflate, since it’s the wrong one, I still wind my arm around Luke’s and lock him in tight to my side.

  “Mabel, this is Luke. He’s the louder one of the pair, but he’s sweet and will never disrespect you. Luke…” I look up and meet his glittering eyes. “This is your new neighbor. She bakes, but in exchange, she’d like for you not to wake her in the night with your annoying noise.”

  He nods, perfectly pliant and kind… he heard the bit about her baking. “Ma’am. I’m sorry about the noise today. We’re just moving in.”

  “And the cussing.”

  He stops, jolts a little, and juts his chin forward. “Ma’am?”

  “The cussing,” Mabel presses. “My late husband was a sailor, so it’s not like I’m unaware of what you’re saying. But the gentlemen of times gone past tended to be more discreet about it.”

  He nods… quick and jerking. “Okay. Understood.”

  “And the other brother?”

  Luke pokes a thumb over his shoulder. “In there, assembling his bed and talking to his girlfriend. I can’t stand the b—” He cuts off his cussing, but because he’s focused on that and the lifted brow Mabel shoots his way, he doesn’t notice the way I growl under my breath, or that my heart hitches with pain.

  His girlfriend… is in there?

  “The, uh… lady,” Luke corrects. “She and I don’t get along all that well. So I’ll work on keeping her away from here.”

  “And why don’t you like her?” Mabel asks. “Because whatever the reason, for you to not like someone, I suspect I will strongly dislike them, tenfold.”

  “She’s alright,” Luke chuckles. “She’s just not my type of person. She’s a bit precious, if you get my meaning. Stuck-up and rude. Not like our baby Em.” He drops a kiss on my temple, exhaling a laugh so his breath tickles my skin. “Em is LL Cool J,” he explains. “And Grace is…” He scrunches his nose. “Kanye at the MTV awards that time Swifty was trying to speak.”

  “I have no clue what you just said,” Mabel turns her nose up. “But I’ll take your word for it. I can be a good neighbor, Luke. But I like peace and quiet.”

  “Noted. And if you happened to be baking at any time…”

  She laughs, charmed by the brutish giant. “I might be inclined to bring a batch over, assuming you’ve not kept me awake.”

  “Positive reinforcement,” he chuckles. “Like puppies. Woof woof, Mrs. Mabel.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other.” Mabel smiles for Luke – it’s impossible not to be charmed by these guys – then she smiles for me and backs up with slow steps.

  I wait for her to approach her door, then for it to open. And as she squeezes through a small gap she makes for herself, I spy three cats, and hear enough meowing to account for another dozen.

  “She’s a cat lady,” I anno
unce quietly and turn away when she closes the door.

  I leave my arm around Luke’s, because maybe Rob is my best-best friend, but Luke is a close second. We’re better friends than many other pairings, and Rob may or may not have a guest right now that tempts me to tear her face off.

  I’ll tear his off, too, while I’m going.

  Making our way back into the apartment, I kick the door closed and toss my water bottle into the empty sink to free up my hands. Then I hear it. I hear her. And just like that, my heart fractures. Because she asked him to leave with her last night, and though he didn’t, though he and I shared something really special afterward, she’s back.

  I know they have history, and I’ve played along for years, since I figured that was my job and I was all alone in my attraction… But I’m not there today. I can’t do it. I can’t pretend.

  I’m not alone in my attraction, and I want to explore more of what we started last night.

  As I lope down the hallway, Grace’s “You need to listen to me, Rob!” makes my head ache, only for Rob’s “I said no!” to help – the way a Band-Aid slapped over a deep gash helps.

  “I have things to do right now, Grace. So you need to stop—”

  I swing into Rob’s room, my feet shoulder-width apart, my hands up like maybe I’m going to fight for what’s mine, but when my eyes wheel around in search of the bitch and come up empty, I falter. “Huh?”

  “I have to go, Grace.” Rob works at the end of his bed with a screwdriver in his hand, and a ballcap turned backwards. Not the cap he left in the hall, but another. One of a million these guys own.

  He glances across at my odd entry, flashes a boyish grin so potent and promising that my core instantly heats, then he tosses his tools down and picks his phone up. “See ya, Grace.”

  He hangs up, even as her annoying voice screeches about wanting to be heard, then he tosses the device back to the bed and plops back onto his ass on the carpet. “EmKat. Hey.”