by Emilia Finn
Pawns In The Bishop’s Game
Checkmate, #1
Emilia Finn
PAWNS IN THE BISHOP’S GAME
By: Emilia Finn
Copyright © 2019. Emilia Finn
Cover Design: Amy Queue
Editing: Brandi Bumstead
ISBN: 9781798147337
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?
PAWNS IN THE BISHOP’S GAME
1. When A Man Can’t Afford Honor
2. Jess
3. Kane
4. Kane
5. Jess
6. Kane
7. Jess
8. Kane
9. Jess
10. Kane
11. Jess
12. Jess
13. Kane
14. Jess
15. Kane
16. Jess
17. Kane
18. Kane
19. Jess
20. Jess
21. Kane
22. Jess
23. Kane
24. Jess
25. Kane
26. Kane
27. Jess
28. Kane
29. Jess
30. Jess
31. Kane
32. Jess
33. Kane
34. Jess
35. Jess
36. December
37. January
38. February
39. March
40. But Life Must Go On
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Looking To Connect?
For Dolly,
Because every girl deserves a whorish mother with boobs for resting and hugs that heal.
I want to drink with you in Tijuana.
Maybe someday we will.
x
And Nikolai,
Because you’re a badass mothertrucker and you scare the shit out of me.
x
Also by Emilia Finn
(in reading order)
The Rollin On Series
Begin Again – A Prequel
Finding Home
Finding Victory
Finding Forever
Finding Peace
Finding Redemption
Finding Hope
Written in the Stars – A Short Story
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
Looking To Connect?
Website: www.emiliafinn.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EmiliaBFinn/
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/ds5vML
Email: [email protected]
The Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/therollincrew/
PAWNS IN THE BISHOP’S GAME
Checkmate, #1
EMILIA FINN
1
When A Man Can’t Afford Honor
Standing twenty yards away, I rest my hand on my hip and keep my eyes trained on the man that makes my blood run hot. Deep in shadow, I press my back to the dirty exhaust and oil slicked brick wall.
I watch her move toward me.
I watch him stalk her from close behind.
Silver-gray trench coat – her, not him. Long blonde hair that sways in the light evening breeze. Longer cream legs. Heels that cost more than my month’s rent – perhaps even a year.
She walks the dark underworld like she belongs here.
Her eyes hold arrogance, like she thinks she belongs. She’s clearly a princess in her world. Of the upper class. The kind of girl whose daddy never said no.
But the purse slung carelessly over her shoulder – so accessible, even a thief straight out of his mother’s womb could take it – proves her naïveté.
Stupid, stupid fucking woman doesn’t belong here.
Rage courses through my veins at her ignorance. Ten feet from where I stand hidden in shadow, her heels click-click-click, echoing in the muffled silence; the only other sound, the music she hums under her breath.
So fucking casual.
He prowls ten feet behind her, hunting her like the killer he is. The silver glint of a knife catches the light, reflecting off the metal emergency stairs that stretch above my head.
The lights from the club leave her with a sense of safety. Foolish, since almost everyone in that club is waiting for this exact moment, for women just like her to walk in.
She’s careless.
She thinks music and a crowd equals safety.
Not at Infernos.
Security cameras monitor this entire club, but none of them feed the cop shop. They simply relay into Abel Hayes’ office.
He watches over his dancers.
His fighters.
His muscle.
Me.
But he’s not the kinda guy you could count on to report nefarious shit to the cops; nefarious, like a leggy blonde getting fucked and scalped in the dirty alleyway out back.
Every step she comes closer, every tap of her shoes on the concrete, echoes inside my chest.
Why the fuck is she here? Why tonight? Of all men, why must my control be tested in front of Lance?
My job is to stay invisible. To stand by and wait for the handover.
Abel pays me to make his life easier.
Safer.
But now a woman comes out pretending she’s twenty-five, but probably isn’t a day over eighteen, walks my alleyway, and makes me choose between her life and mine.
I don’t know her.
She’s not my problem.
And it’s not like Lance isn’t gonna get his jollies somewhere tonight. If she wants to be a fuckin’ idiot and live up to the color of her hair, who am I to mess with nature?
I hate that I recognize the tune on her breath.
I loathe that her large, vibrant blue eyes lock onto mine just half a beat before Lance’s arm comes up.
“Stand down,” Flynn, Abel’s second in charge, rumbles in my earpiece. Yeah. There are security feeds all over this place. And they see everything. “Let nature take its course. This is the food chain, Bishop, and she ain’t your problem.”
Lance’s arm wraps around her throat. He yanks her off her feet and pulls a garbled scream f
rom her chest.
Kicking her heeled feet up, she fights his grasp, but Lance is a fucking animal. He sees nothing but the woman. He knows cameras watch his every move, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He knows I’m somewhere nearby, but he doesn’t care.
Pussy is pussy, and Lance has picked his feast.
“Step back,” Flynn snaps. “You have a job to do. She’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. Don’t fuck this up.”
She screams like someone will swoop in and save her. Long blonde hair flies, and her purse – coveted by thieves, but useless in Lance’s eyes – snaps from her shoulder and lands two feet in front of my blood-stained boots.
I roll the butt of my blade in my hand, kick the flap on her bag open with my boot, and narrow my eyes when a tube of fire-engine red lipstick rolls out.
Focusing on the written details on her photo ID, I work to ignore the screaming and sounds of her heels slamming against the concrete as he drags her toward the shadowed edges.
Let nature takes its course.
I’m not here for her.
She’s not my problem.
According to her ID, she’s local. Leaning closer, I ignore her cries and study her address. Her birthday. Her photo; the freckles I knew I’d find beneath the makeup.
“Get off me!”
I don’t watch her. I don’t dare watch Lance rape this woman who’s older than I gave her credit for. She’s legal. She’s not so far from my age at all.
“Get off me!”
The sound of his switchblade makes my teeth grind.
“Stay where you are,” Flynn’s voice crackles in my ear. “Not a fuckin’ muscle. Let him do what he’s gotta do. We’ll deal with him when he comes back up, but you’re under orders to leave it alone.”
I nod.
They see me. They see every move I make.
Unfortunately for… I read her license… Jessica Ann Lenaghan, she’s going to be Lance’s twelfth friend.
This month.
Her terrified cries turn to something that borders on rage. Like she already accepted her fate. Like she knows I’m here, and she knows I could help, but I won’t.
“Get. Off.” She grunts. “Get off me!”
“You’re a feisty bitch, huh?” Palming her ID, I stand tall and move back into the shadows when Lance’s belt buckle snapping open sets my gut on fire. “Good little bitches often are, but they shut up real quick once I show ‘em my cock.”
“No.” I peek around the corner and watch her throw wild fists that simply glide off the side of his head. Each time she hits him, his smile turns up another notch. The fight is half the fun for monsters like Lance. “You take it out…” she screams. “If you so much as touch me with it, I’ll rip it off. Get.” She slams her fist against his chest. “Off.” Slam. “Me!”
Dropping his trousers, that feeling of apathy I was hoping to conjure vanishes, and in its place is my knife in my hand, and my body standing behind his.
Like she had no clue he was coming up behind her, he has no clue I’m so close until I lean over him and bring my knife to his throat. “Stop.”
He freezes.
She freezes.
Chest heaving, nostrils flaring, her bright eyes wheel around as she works through her fight-or-flight reactions. Lying on her back, her legs splayed wide open, she stares directly into my eyes.
Lance’s dick turns flaccid against the woman’s thigh, producing a terrified squeak that rolls up her throat. Sliding my knife along his flesh, no deeper than a paper cut, I grin at the line of blood that dribbles along my blade and drips onto her creamy flesh.
“Bishop… Don’t–”
I press my blade harder against his skin. “We talked about this, didn’t we?”
“It’s none of you–”
“But it is.” I fist his hair and yank until he cries out and drops his knife to the ground. “We talked about you taking women when they say no thanks.”
“They’re just b–”
I look at the woman – she’s both terrified and pissed – and study her exposed thighs. Too beautiful to be out this late at night. Too stupid to know she’s not invincible. “Do you know Lance? Is this consensual?”
Holding her breath as though it’ll help her keep her shit together, she shakes her head.
“Bishop! Get off m–”
I slide my blade along his throat in threat and take pleasure in the way his words come to a garbled stop. “Don’t speak, Lance. Listen.” He gives a jerky nod and helps me rip chunks of his own hair out. “Jess is mine.”
In sync, their eyes widen.
Neither of them expected me to know her name.
“She’s yours?”
I look to her. “I told you not to be out tonight, Jess. Why’d you follow me?”
Panicking, confused, she looks between me and the man whose dick is still exposed. “Um.” She licks her parched lips and draws my eyes to the wild pulse in her throat. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I lift a dangerous brow. “And because you didn’t listen, you almost end up Lance’s bitch. You want that to be your life? You want your family to find you on the news?”
She wouldn’t end up on the news at all. She’d go missing, her family would cry on national TV and beg for her return, then eventually, people would forget.
It’s the way it is. Short attention spans. Too much else going on to entertain the masses. A pretty girl on the news would interest viewers for an hour, then her ocean blue eyes would haunt no one but her loved ones…
And me.
Standing tall, I pull Lance to his feet and move back half a dozen steps. With her legs splayed wide and her panties on show from beneath her fancy coat and pretty dress, I nod for the woman to get up. “Come here. You didn’t stay at home like you were supposed to, so now you have choices to make.”
Climbing to her feet, she limps forward and clutches at her ribs. Narrowing my eyes, I study her gait. “Did you sucker punch her, Lance?”
“No, I–”
I look to her. “Did he hit you?”
“He…” She swallows. “He was gonna rape me, and you’re worried about a sucker punch?”
I nod wordlessly.
With her eyes piercing mine, she nods.
She’s terrified, but she’s braver than any woman I’ve ever met. She should’ve run already; she should be squealin’ half this fuckin’ town down.
Removing my knife from Lance’s throat, he relaxes against my chest and lets out a huff of relief… until I extend my hand and offer her my prized blade.
I’ve never in my life handed my knife to anyone of my own free will.
Hesitantly, she watches my hand, but it takes only seconds before she accepts my offering.
“You choose, Blondie. It’s your ribs that ache. Your ankle. And your pussy he was gonna use.”
“What do you wa–”
“He was gonna kill you. I promise you that. You were a dead woman. Every minute you live from now on is borrowed time. Cherish it. Make something of it. Now you choose his fate.”
“Bishop! Let me g–”
I pull his hair tighter and elicit a cry of cowardice from his throat. “Shut the fuck up, Lance. We talked about this. The Reaper is here for you. Bet you never expected her to be so pretty.”
“You want…” Holding my knife like it was a snake, her eyes flick between it and me. Lance doesn’t exist in her world. She sees me, she sees my blade. “You want me to kill him?”
“I want you to do whatever helps you sleep at night. Tomorrow, when you’re all alone in your bed, I want you to feel safe and not wonder if he’s coming back for another go.”
Finally, her eyes flick back to his. Flynn screeches in my ear. Abel’s pissed. I’m paid to make Abel safe. I’m paid to coordinate tonight’s delivery, but instead, I stand in an alleyway and defend a woman whose eyes make me a little sick in the gut.
Stepping forward on shaky legs, she looks up and waits for Lance’s eyes to meet he
rs. I loosen my hold on his hair, and when she rolls the blade between two dainty hands, I wonder if she’ll actually do it. “Were you going to kill me… Lance?” Her eyes flick to mine in question.
I nod.
“Lance…” She goes back to him. “You were going to kill me?”
Unremorseful, he licks his lips. “I woulda fucked you the best you ever got. Then I woulda let you sleep. Whatever happens…”
“The best I ever got?” She runs the pad of her thumb along the blade and sends chills through my blood. She’s gonna do it. Good for her. “How do you know the best I ever got?” She nods over his shoulder… to me. “My boyfriend might disagree.”
“Your boyf–” He sputters. “She’s yours? No. She’s just a–”
“You call her a bitch again, and I’ll slit your throat with your own blade.”
“Bishop!” Flynn’s raging voice throbs in my brain. “The package is two minutes away. Do your fuckin’ job!”
“I can’t.” I’m speaking to Flynn, but my eyes are for the blonde. “Do what you’ve gotta do, then get the fuck home and don’t come out again. This is your only warning. There are a million Lance’s in this world, and I won’t be around to stop him next time.”
Nodding contemplatively, she bites her lip and studies the blade. With shaking hands, she holds it with her finger and thumb, and offers it back. “I can’t… I’m not…” Finally accepting the enormity of what’s happened to her tonight, what almost happened, her breath comes out on a shudder. “I’m going home.”