Dynamite (Stacked Deck Book 10)

by Emilia Finn

  “Well…” I clear my throat, and swallow down my choked laughter when another door slams somewhere outside. Ally’s on a tear, and though it should terrify me, it really doesn’t. I’ve spent my entire life knowing women with bad attitudes and enough fire to back them up. At this point, I’m basically immune. “Okay, so what actually happened was that we got drunk. Sloppy drunk, but the fun drunk where you’re horny, but super fuckin’ chill about it.” I stop and clear my throat. “Excuse my language.”

  Sonia waves me off. “Continue your story.”

  “You’re bound by a duty of confidentiality, right? Because for me to finish this story, I have to admit to a crime, and while it doesn’t much bother me if I get into trouble, I’d really rather Ally didn’t. It was hardly her fault.”

  Sonia was cruising on an air of frustration, perhaps, with a side of indifference. But mention her family in the same sentence as ‘crime,’ and she turns tense in a split second.

  “What crime did you commit, Luke Hart?”

  I flash a wide grin and lean forward to snatch the iced coffee Ally once again left sitting on the table. “Let me first explain how, at the club, Ally told me to beat it. She couldn’t and wouldn’t get drunk with, or sleep with, a client. I tried for the gray area, what with the fact that I’m your client, and not hers. But she held strong on that point.”

  “Comforting,” Sonia drawls. “Keep going.”

  “So, I couldn’t get her to bend on the sleeping together stuff, and trust me, I tried.”

  This woman, this old-as-the-earth-itself woman doesn’t blush at my words. Instead, she rolls her eyes. “I’m certain you tried hard.”

  “But I did get her to drink with me. We laughed, we chatted, we drank a little more. Then she was looking at some other dude, whom I happen to know for a fact is a complete douchebag. She was all, ‘Oh, I don’t know how to pick someone up in a club. I’m so innocent and wonderful.’ So then she ‘innocently’ looks at this guy, which in club-speak is basically flashing him, right?”

  Sonia shakes her head. “Okay.”

  “So I did the right thing and removed Ally from the club. But don’t forget at this point, we were drunk as fuck, so our exit and subsequent walk home was loud and stumbling.”

  “To be young again.” She sips her tea and smiles behind the lip of the cup. “Sorry, go on.”

  “We saw the chief, we got a talking-to by him, he instructed me to walk her home and keep my hands to myself.”

  “Of course.”

  “But… are you ready? Because here’s where the crime comes into play. And if you promise to reserve judgment until the very end, I suspect you’ll think it’s hilarious.”

  “Doubtful.” She folds her ankles and sits taller, all attention on me. “But I promise to reserve judgment. Go.”

  Ally

  Need A New Job

  Galileo is a Great Dane who has a job. One single job. And he does it well.

  I sit outside Sonia’s office building in the warm sun and try my very best not to squint – lest I create wrinkles that I’ll regret later – but right beside me, the two-hundred-pound, heavyweight, non-pedigree killer sits and smiles with his tongue lolling to the side. Beside him, Nora, his owner, sits so her shoulder touches mine, and beside her, some guy she introduced to me as Kane, who is, quite frankly, the scariest dude I’ve ever met in my life.

  Between us, we create a Mexican standoff of sorts. Me, a dog, a trauma victim with a snarky attitude, and a guy who has more ink than skin. He’s two hundred something pounds of killer too, but unlike the dog, he has an actual effing gun on his hip, and his hair is cut close enough to the scalp that I’m certain he does it that way so no one in prison can pull it.

  You’re being a judgmental bitch, Allyson!

  But it’s not all me. I swear. Kane doesn’t help his case, because he doesn’t smile; there’s no kindness in his eyes, just ferocity and a clear ‘I’ll slit your fucking throat if you look at the girl or the dog the wrong way.’

  “So…” I cough away my nerves. “Like, is he your security guard or something?”

  Nora seems to be in no rush, feels no pressure to do any damn thing today except sit in the sun and study the flowers that will soon die when the frosts hit. She breathes in and out, slowly, relaxed, and lets her smile creep up. “Galileo? Yeah. I trained him to incapacitate anyone who farts too close to me.”

  “Um… no.” My eyes go to Kane’s. He watches me, dark and dangerous. “Him. The, uh… Kane.”

  “Oh.” Nora snorts and gives Galileo a scratch on the ear when he leans in for it. “No, the opposite. Kane looks kinda badass, but he’s actually terrified of cussing women. So in reality, I’m his security team. That gun on his hip is really only for water. And sometimes, if he’s heading toward a flock of loud women, he’ll fill it with Holy Water. Ya know, just to be sure.”

  Kane continues to stare. Midnight black eyes. No blinking.

  “I… uh… I don’t believe you.”

  “Here. Let me show you.”

  She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small baggie of dog treats. Galileo drops to his rump with a loud thump the second the bag comes into view, and because he did, Nora rewards him with a single treat. Then she grabs a second, and poises her hand in a ready-to-toss position.

  “He’s more robot now, than human,” she explains of Kane. “But not the smart kind of robot. Rather, he’s like something someone took out of a Roomba vacuum.” She tosses the treat, and smothers her snicker when it smacks Kane’s chiseled jaw and falls to his lap. “Honestly, he’s not a very good Roomba either. He makes messes. He doesn’t clean them up.” She grabs another treat, aims her throw, and tosses it so it smacks his broad chest. “He’s harmless.” She offers the bag to me. “Wanna try?”

  “Um…” I look into Kane’s eyes as they bore into my soul. Choosing life, I shake my head, fold my arms, and settle further back into my chair. “I don’t wanna piss this Roomba off. But thanks for the offer.”

  “Good fucking choice.” Fast as a whip, Kane lunges over Nora, grabs the bag of treats, and tears it open like Hulk Hogan tears a phone book in half.

  Nora screams as treats rain down over her head, and Galileo dives in to collect as many as he can before his owner stops thrashing.

  “Quit it!” she squeals and tries to kick Kane away. Laughing, tears in her eyes, she rolls into a ball and bats at the heavy army-commando-looking guy whose gun, I suspect, is very much real. “Kane!” she screams. “Galileo. Attack! Get him! Tear his balls off.”

  “Don’t fuck with me.” Kane shoves Nora’s head to the side and elicits another round of snorting giggles. “I ain’t afraid of no woman. Ever!”

  “Kane?”

  “Agh!” he shouts when Sonia steps through the doorway, jumping back with fright. “Dammit, woman. You scared the shit out of me!”

  My heart thuds as my great-grandmother stops in the doorway and folds her arms. She studies Kane with a definite kind of love in her eyes, she smiles for a slumped-over Nora, but when she gets to me, her friendliness falters.

  I’m in trouble. I’m probably out of a job, too.

  Luke steps up behind her, he meets my eyes and smiles, but he drops it again when I glance away.

  If I’m in trouble with my boss, then he’s in trouble with me.

  “Nora,” Sonia begins, “you can head on in, if you like. I’ll be ready for you in just a moment.” Then she looks to Kane and mock-scowls. “Do you have yourself under control, Kane Bishop?”

  This guy is big – we’ve already established that – but his skin comes with a tan that must surely be a deterrent for blushing. But no. Warmth colors his cheeks as he submits under Sonia’s glare. “Yes’m.”

  She smiles at the color that continues to spread, and when he stands and goes closer, she squeezes his hand. “It’s so good to see you again. Go inside and wait with Nora. I’ll just be a moment more.” She releases his hand, and watches as the trio – because of course the
dog joins them – makes their way inside, so the door shuts with a soft bang, and the only people who remain are me, Luke, and Sonia… and a dozen or so dog treats littering the ground.

  The silence is deafening. The pressure almost too heavy to stand under.

  “So…” Sonia smothers a soft chuckle. “You guys took the llama?”

  “Oh god.” I sit back on the bench seat and groan. “The llama! I forgot about the damn llama.”

  “I seem to have gotten a somewhat clearer idea of how your weekend went, Ally. It would have been nice if you’d told me about it sooner – offense, rather than defense. But what is done is done.”

  “Right,” I sigh and push up from the seat. “What’s done is done. I’ll head home in the next couple days and get out of your way. I understand I’ve done the wrong thing, so I won’t ask for a recommendation for my resume. That would be immeasurably rude.”

  “She talks in big words when she’s nervous.”

  My eyes flash with rage as I glare at the man standing over Sonia’s shoulder. Shut up!

  “I would like for you to work with Luke,” Sonia says in her calm, therapist voice, so her simple words, her quiet demeanor bring my attention back to her with an ache in my neck.

  “What?”

  “Work with him,” she repeats with a smile. “I want you to put the llama back, but you cannot get caught. That would be a terrible move, career-wise.”

  “Put the– the–” Images of dancing llamas and flashing police lights float through my mind. “Are you crazy? We can’t put it back! I don’t even remember where we took the damn thing from in the first place.”

  “I told her the other day that we had to put it back,” Luke taunts. “I said it had to be done.”

  “Luke knows where it belongs,” Sonia says. “Despite what most everyone in this town thinks of the illustrious Miss Dixie, stealing the second statue, especially all these years after the first was stolen, borders on cruel. She’s a special type of woman. She needs the companionship, and even if it’s just plastic, even if we think it’s foolish, it’s not for us to judge.”

  “But I don’t… I’m not…”

  “You’re not allowed to get caught,” she continues. “You must place Chester back in his rightful place, under the cover of d–”

  “Wait. Chester?”

  Sonia stops, bites her bottom lip, and lifts her brows. “Hm?”

  “You called him Chester. He has a name?”

  “Oh, yes.” She waves me off, like I don’t notice the way her cheeks warm. “He has a name, though I’m not sure if Miss Dixie herself knows his name.”

  I bring my brows together, narrow my gaze, and lean closer to my innocent-at-first-sight great-grandmother. “You had something to do with all this, didn’t you? We speak of the llama, but my drunk brain still remembers the ice cream statue in Luke’s kitchen. There are two statues, Gigi! What the hell did you do?”

  Silence drops down over our small group. It’s like a blanket being draped over us, as Sonia’s eyes scan mine, and I realize my mistake.

  “Oh…” Warmth spreads through my cheeks. “The Gigi thing. Don’t worry about– That was just…” I scramble for a single coherent thought. “A slip of the tongue.”

  “You know I like it.” She reaches out for my hand. “If it does not make you uncomfortable, I would love it if you continued using that name for me. It creates a special type of relationship, doesn’t it? A special bond.”

  “Um…”

  “But you can think on it. As always, no pressure.” She takes a step back and releases my hand. “As for your accusation, I had nothing to do with the first statue.”

  “Lies,” Luke coughs so hard that Sonia’s hair flutters. “She knows.”

  Sonia firms her lips, but forces a smile. “I did not steal the first statue. However, I know who did. Fortunately for that person, they are protected under client confidentiality.”

  “It was my aunt!” Luke explodes. “My aunt and her friends stole him in the middle of the night because Dixie is a bitch.”

  “And now you will return Chester,” Sonia grits out. “Without getting caught. Return him,” she looks to me, “and you may come back to the office tomorrow. You have not admitted to any crimes. Luke has, and he did so during a session, which means he is protected by one of the many clauses in our contracts of engagement.”

  “Get rid of old man Rivera,” Luke drawls for Sonia, “and I’ll enter a contract of engagement with you.” He flashes a playful grin when she looks over her shoulder and glares.

  “I see a little resemblance,” he continues. “The angry eyes look the same. The cranky lips. And now that I know, I’m feeling all sorts of conflicted about my therapist and the way she speaks to me. Firm but compassionate. Unbending but bending.” He winks, just to be as obnoxious as absolutely possible in this moment. “If you get me.”

  “I’m about to fail you out of these sessions,” Sonia whips out. “Zip it, Hart. Return the damn statue, do not get caught, because if you do, the judge will order a hell of a lot more than therapy and community service down at the lake. Now go.”

  “Wait.” My stomach dips. “Go?”

  “Go!” she repeats. “Figure out your plan, put the frickin’ statue back where it belongs. And do not hit on me ever again,” she says for Luke. “I’m about to boot your ass back to your mother’s house. She’ll deal with you.”

  “We’re going that way anyway.” Luke grabs my hand and holds on tight when I try to yank it back. “Catch you on the flippity-flop. Thanks for excusing Ally from work today.” He looks to me with childish glee. “Ándale. Let’s go.”

  “Luke!” I try to pull my hand from his. “Stop.”

  “You can ride in my truck.” He drags me toward the road, to the row of cars parked out front of the practice. An SUV, a truck that looks especially expensive and extra bomb-proof – could be Kane’s – and then an older Bronco with rusted panels and half of the roof missing. Luke holds my hand right up until he opens the squeaky door and he’s able to herd me in, then he slams it shut again and bolts around to his side before I’ve had a chance to escape.

  My phone goes off – buzz, buzz, buzz – as Luke closes his door and jams his keys into the ignition, but before I can make a single move, we’re rolling away from my work and heading toward Main Street.

  “You gonna answer that?”

  It feels like my brain is foggy all over again. Like perhaps the hangover I suffered through this weekend wasn’t a hangover at all. Perhaps it’s just what I feel when Luke is near. Foggy-brained, swirling stomach, homicidal tendencies.

  “Yooo, Allyson. You in there?”

  “What?”

  “Your phone’s ringing. You need to get that, or…?”

  “Um…” I look down and see ‘Mom’ flashing over and over. “Probably.” I swallow and hit accept. “Mom?”

  “Put her on speaker.”

  “Honey?” Mom’s voice automatically turns louder when she hears the noise on my end. The truck, the wind, the nagging driver. “What are you doing?”

  “Ally! I said put her on speaker.”

  I plug one ear. “Mom? I can hardly hear you.”

  “Put her on speaker.” Luke snatches my phone as he pulls up at an empty intersection, hits speaker, and tosses the whole device onto the dash. “Hi, Mrs. Moore. This is Luke Hart here. How you doing?”

  “Oh hey there, handsome. Are you the tall drink of cold water from the bakery my daughter told me about?”

  “The one and only. Which makes you Ally’s mother, and Sonia’s granddaughter?”

  “Wow,” Mom chokes out. “He knows too much.”

  “No. He doesn’t.” I snatch up the phone, and though I leave it on speaker, I bring it closer to my ear. “He found out today that Sonia and I are related. The rest, he’s assuming.”

  “Right,” Luke cuts in. “I also found out that Ally is the kind of woman a guy would wanna keep forever, and Sonia has a husband she’s manage
d to tame for almost a century. What’s up with you, Mrs. M.?”

  “Well, first of all, I’m Mrs. Laramie, since I married a few years back. Stanley’s gone now, but I never dumped the name.”

  “My deepest sympathies,” Luke says seriously. “I’m sorry you lost your husband.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. He was a good man. Since Ally’s sperm donor wasn’t around to give us his name, I gave her mine, I dumped the first guy off the side of the earth, and then I married Mr. Laramie. Lots of names to remember.”

  “Lovely,” I drawl. “At least half of me comes from someone you dumped off the face of the planet.”

  “You’re all the best bits, honey. Now tell me about your kin,” she says to Luke. “Tell me everything.”

  “Well, they’re all blissfully crazy,” he answers easily. “In love, passionate, oftentimes weird. But we’re all reasonably normal on the Richter scale of what’s acceptable. Tell me something odd about Ally.”

  “Oh, um… okay. She—”

  “Mom!”

  “She collects Polly Pockets,” Mom says brightly, ignoring my protests. “Not the new kind. But the kind from the nineties. She’s got almost all of them, but there are a couple that are still elusive. Now tell me something about you.”

  “I’m an identical twin. Mom and Dad were having trouble conceiving back in the day, so as is often the case when you move into the area of fertility treatments, they got two of us.”

  “I already knew that,” Mom replies. “The twin thing, not the infertility bit. Tell me something else.”

  “Oh… hmm…” He brings a hand up to rub his stubbled jaw. “Ally and I slept in the same bed on the weekend. But we didn’t have sex. That was the first time in my life I’ve done that.”

  “Well, good for you, honey. I’m proud of you.”

  “You’re both freaks,” I groan. “Mom, why did you call?”

  “I need a reason to call now? Geez, Allyson. How quickly things change. You move out, get a fancy degree, move to a town with cute twins, and now you’re too busy to talk with your own mother on the telephone? It wasn’t so long ago you thought they all rode horses still.”