Checkmate: Checkmate, #8

by Finn, Emilia

  “I have no problem with alcohol. That’s the whole point of not drinking, right? Don’t drink; no worries.”

  “Okay. So why do you have such a hard stance on the topic? Most adults have an occasional drink. I’m not judging your wishes to refrain, but I’d really love to know what’s going on in your brain when you frown like that.”

  “Frown like what?” I try to step back, but stop again under his tight hold. “I’m not frowning like anything.”

  “You’re frowning right now. It’s not a regular frown, but the kind that says everything and nothing at the same time. It’s the kind that puts cramps in my gut and a vise around my heart. I’m not here to judge your choices, but we are here to know each other, right?”

  “Gunner, no…” I try to pull away.

  “Me first? Okay.” He holds on tight and ignores my grunt when I continue to try to pull out of his hold. “I sometimes pick my nose. When the tissue just won’t do the job and a booger refuses to budge, I’ll just shove my finger up there and pick it. I have no shame in my boogie game.”

  I frown exactly the way he accuses me of doing. “Ew.”

  “Exactly. I told you that secret, and if word got out, the world would collapse. Seriously. Zhang is super pissed at me right now. Spill that secret, and he’ll run with it.” He yanks me in until I crash against his chest. “Now it’s your turn to tell me yours. I doubt it’s gonna be as scary as you think it is. I don’t care about the why, Lib. I just wanna know what it is. I wanna know about you. If you’re a recovering alcoholic, then it’s my duty as your man and protector to stop offering the shit up, isn’t it? I would clear out every house I own and never bring the stuff in again. I would do anything to make your hard work a little easier. But if it’s a calorie count thing, then maybe I can help you switch out one cookie for a glass of wine instead.”

  “What if I was a recovering alcoholic?” I ask in a quiet voice. “What would that make you think?”

  His eyes soften. “I would think you were amazing and strong for kicking the habit. And then I would go upstairs and clear out the liquor cabinets. I would never carelessly offer again. If you’re going to be with me,” he lifts a brow, “which you are, then that means sometimes you’re gonna have to don a pretty dress and attend functions with me. They routinely serve alcohol at these events, so if you told me you had a problem with alcohol, I would make sure I was standing between you and those trays. I would make it as easy as possible to say no. And when I have the power, I would make the event completely alcohol-free.” He folds his back a little and tries to come down to my level. “Babe, I’m asking to be your partner in whatever battle you’re fighting. I’m a good ally to have. I would protect you from whatever you need protecting from. I would die on your hill if it meant you would be okay. But I can’t know who the enemy is if you never tell me.”

  “Gunner, it’s not that eas–”

  “You just have to say the words, Lib. They’re just words. They can’t hurt you. And I promise, there’s nothing you’ve ever done that would make me think differently of you. We’re all fucked up in some way, right? It was only a week ago that I was seriously considering eliminating my own brothers. I had condemned them because of who their father is. That’s fucked up, no? It’s even more fucked up that, had you been dirty, I told myself I was gonna take you out, too.”

  “Would you have?”

  He stops. Swallows. Considers. And then chuckles. “Unlikely. I would have seduced the shit out of you, extracted your secrets, and then I would have tied you to my bed for the rest of your life. You would no longer have access to them, and you’d be my sex slave. Really, it’s the perfect solution.”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  He laughs. “You say that a lot. Does it make you feel better when you insult me? Do you think your diversion tactics work?” He shakes his head. “No.” He leans lower, closer, so his hands cup my face and the tip of his nose touches mine. “Tell me your secrets. Tell me why you frown the way you do. That way, I can make it so that you never have to worry about that thing anymore.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  When he clears his throat with an impatient grunt, I roll my eyes, close them, and then exhale. “What if… What if the alcohol is just a side thing? What would you say if I told you that I treat myself as a former alcoholic, though I’ve consumed maybe three glasses of anything in my life?”

  I open my eyes to find his flickering between mine. “Then I would wonder why you deny yourself. But no matter what, I would still support you. I want to know what’s going on in your brain. I wanna get in there too, because it’s lonely being out here on my own.”

  “You’re so dramatic.” I try to pull back, but in true Gunner fashion, he holds me in. “I withhold alcohol because… well…” I blow out a noisy breath. “Because I was once a girl all alone in boarding school. I knew of certain girls that went there, obviously, and their father was the entrepreneurial type.”

  Gunner’s eyes narrow.

  “You remember the sour-sisters, right?”

  “Right,” he growls. A literal growl vibrates up his throat. “You were friends with them?”

  I scoff. “No. But we both know I knew them, and we both know we were all shuffled off to the same school for girls. Truth be told, I wasn’t friends with anyone. I was alone most of my adolescence, which is exactly what I wanted. I studied, I watched TV, I kept to myself. I got new roommates over the years, because that school always made us share. The sour-sisters were entrepreneurial like Hayes, I guess, because they were bringing product into our school for years.”

  “Where are they now?” he asks. “The bitch sisters, where are they?”

  “Honestly? I think they were still hanging around at college up until Hayes was eliminated. It was an easy life for them, and the cost of tuition was just a fraction compared to the income from selling product to desperate students.”

  Gunner’s eyes narrow dangerously. “They were peddling their father’s products to the very people who were supposed to one day run our country?”

  “Yeah, well…” I shrug. “Cocaine sure can be an upper when someone has finals to cram for.”

  Gunner’s eyes widen when the pieces finally fall into place. “Libby… did you–”

  “Yep.” My voice cracks and forces my gaze down in shame. “I did. A lot.”

  “Babe?” Sliding a finger under my chin, he pulls me back up. “You took their product?”

  I nod, and loathe the way the backs of my eyes itch. “Not theirs directly, because I’m way too proud to ask them for a damn thing. But any product in that school started with them, so technically, yes. But in my mind, I was buying from a dealer further down the chain.”

  “Who was the dealer?”

  “My newest roommate.” I swallow, and when he loosens his hold, I twist away and out of his reach, and cross the dark room so I can trail my fingers in the still-cool water. “My roommate, coincidence, or by design, I don’t know, was sweet as pie and convinced me I’d finally found someone I could trust again. Darcy; she looked so fucking innocent and kind. At first it was just like… ‘So I tried this stuff, you should give it a go’. I said no. In fact, I said ‘Fuck no,’ because I knew what it was, I knew where it had come from. I knew everything about that white powder, because I grew up in the Bishop empire. She didn’t push too hard. She was passive about it, leaving things out, hanging out around our room while she was high, calling me to pick her up if she was out and needed a ride. She was giggly and silly and nothing like the meanness I had grown up knowing.”

  I lift my hand from the water and watch the droplets break the surface when they drip down again. “She was so giggly and happy, and I missed you so fucking much, Gunner. I was sixteen, and everyone around me was meeting boys. Funny,” I force a laugh. “It was an all-girl school, but everyone was still meeting boys. Darcy lost her virginity, and she said how wonderful it was. How it didn’t hurt, how special it was, and how sweet he was
.” I turn to him, lean against the tub, and fold my arms. “And I spent all those years hugging a fucking sweater. Even while she was talking to me about this stuff, I hugged your sweater. I begged the universe to bring you back. But so long had already passed. You were gone.”

  I shake my head when, with brooding eyes and hunched shoulders, he stalks forward and reminds me of that lion I met in the gym only a matter of weeks ago.

  “Exams were coming up, everyone around me was having fun, and there I was, a loner, in love with a sweater and a ghost.”

  “So you tried cocaine?”

  I nod, and when a single tear pops from my eye and slides over my cheek, I swipe it away. “Yup. I didn’t try it with her. Or anyone else, for that matter. Like I said, she always left her shit out. That should have been my first red flag; it’s not like cocaine is cheap. It’s not something people hand out like candy. I suspect the sour-sisters had it put there on purpose, the exact same way their daddy, Abel, put it in front of Kane and Jay so often. I’ve read reports the last couple years that speak of the amount of cocaine those boys were forced to endure while working.

  “Part of me thinks our daddies were trying to eliminate us, because we weren’t playing the games they wanted us to play. The sour-sisters had joined the family business, so they were immune, but I was refusing to go home for the holidays, I refused to acknowledge that world’s existence, which essentially made me a loose end that needed tying. Kane and Jay became cops, they thought they were deep undercover, but they had no clue Abel knew who they were. Instead of calling them on it, he played back. He fed them coke and nearly had them both killed.

  “No one could accuse the sixteen-year-old version of me of being smart, because I fell for their game. I tried the cocaine, and it felt good. I didn’t wake up sick. I woke up energized, and for the first time… well… ever, I woke up with a smile on my face. I snuck some more the next time she left it out, and the next time after that. Before I knew it, I wasn’t alone anymore. I sought out the parties that Darcy went to, I hung out with the boys she did. I even attended parties the sour-sisters attended.”

  “Babe…”

  “I lost my virginity, and I don’t even remember it. I don’t remember with who, I don’t remember where, but I remember waking and up and thinking that I liked it. Then I remember taking myself to the clinic immediately after, because, like I said, I didn’t remember the act. I had the tests done, because it’s the only way I could stop feeling gross.”

  “Is that when you stopped?”

  I stare into his eyes and shake my head. “Nope. I was on that train for a little more than two years. I used to be fat. Then I was scarily thin. If I was hungry, I used. If I was stressed, I used. If I had exams coming up, I used. If I was horny, but didn’t want another strange man in my bed, I used, and hugged your sweater while I touched myself.” I let my gaze drop to the floor. “I was in a fully-fledged relationship with a dead boy, and on a fast spiral down into the blackest of blacks in an attempt to forget the bad.” I bring my eyes up and meet his. “The only good my life ever had was one hour sitting outside with this boy that was so sweet. He was funny, and silly, and a total asshole all at the same time. He teased, he said my knees were chubby and that I was too short. But he also made me feel safe, and he let me talk about the future like it was something I could really achieve. He spoke about how cool it would be to become the next Walker, Texas Ranger. He was there, he made promises, and when he was gone and those promises were taken from both of us, I couldn’t cope. I sat in my hell for years and years, and then Darcy came along, she dropped a new – and completely ironic – coping mechanism at my feet, and I fell for it.”

  “They set you up, Lib. They put you on that path.”

  “I know. And now I’m clean. I go to the gym so I’m neither chubby nor too skinny. And I abstain from everything, because that’s what I need to do to be able to control my world. I refuse to trip again.”

  With intense eyes that blaze with desperation, Gunner stalks forward and stops in front of me so our shoes touch, and when his hands wrap around my arms, I let out a burst of oxygen I didn’t know I was holding in. “You’re so strong, Libby.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “So brave.” He presses a kiss to my cheekbone. “You stood up when everyone else in your world wanted to put you on your ass. I ran away, I gave myself a new name and completely hid from the world, and when you called me on it, I gave you shit like I was the brave one.”

  “You didn’t lose yourself to the very drugs our fathers peddled and we hated.”

  “And neither did you.” He grabs my chin and pulls my gaze up. “You used for a little while, but you’re not lost. You’re right here, you became Walker. You have this amazing job that I hate so fucking much. You’re brave, you protect the innocent, and you take people like Colum Bishop and Raymond Tate off the streets. You did everything that you said you were going to do, but I drew pictures and played with computers. I considered myself so fucking superior, so mad, like the world owed me something.”

  “The world did owe you. You lived in an alleyway.”

  “And you lived in Hell. At least I was free. I was able to form bonds with whoever I wanted to. I could come and go as I pleased, I could do anything I wanted, and in my spare time, I was with you. I was drawing you, I was studying your face, and I knew you were safe.”

  “I didn’t know you were safe.” I sniffle and try to stand taller. “I didn’t know.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I could have come to you the very next day. I could have knocked on your fucking window and stolen you away. You would have come, we could have been a team for all these years.” He presses another kiss to my lips, slower this time. Gentler. “You would have known my street rat life, but we would have been free together, we could have ruled that damn alleyway.” Chuckling, he kisses me again. “It was a shitty kingdom, but it was–”

  “Better than my dorm room,” I finish. “Better than the sour-sisters and cocaine and Hell.”

  He nods. “I’m sorry. You were right; we were all victims, and no matter the chip on my shoulder, I wasn’t even the worst done by. I held on to all this anger, I created my army of one, and I was willing to die in battle against…” he shakes his head. “Against other victims.”

  “This is why you need me.” Smiling, I stand on my toes when he pulls me up and presses soft, pecking kisses along my lips. “I told you to calm your shit before that meeting. I knew you weren’t using your brain.”

  “This is why I need you.” Gunner slides his hands along my body, over my ribs, and down to cup my ass, then without warning, he lifts me in one easy swoop and swallows my squeak of panic. “Relax.” Kissing me, he walks toward the stairs and carries me up as though I weigh nothing.

  The chubby girl inside me thrills at how easily he carries me around.

  Our tour is over for now, because he carries me up that one set of steps, through the kitchen and living area, and up the circular set so we reach the next level and move toward the bedroom. His tongue does magical things to mine. His hands squeeze and knead my ass. And when we enter a dark room at the north end of the house, Gunner lowers me to a bed I could swear is made of clouds conjured by Greek gods. So soft, so luxurious.

  He lays me back and follows me down so his knees rest between my legs. “Libby?” He pushes my hair off my face and lays enough of his weight on me that I feel both of us racing for breath. When I open my eyes and meet his beautiful blues, he grins. “I loved you after knowing you for an hour.”

  I smile. “I know. I loved you too.”

  “And I love you more now. Because I’m a man, and I know what it means to love. I know my role, I know my responsibilities when I say those words.”

  I nibble on my bottom lip and nod. “I know. I trust you, even when I don’t like you.”

  He chuckles. “So let’s consider this our honeymoon. We don’t have to marry right now, but we’ve already declared ownership. Neither of us a
re going anywhere. So let’s fast forward to the honeymoon, we can have a nice time, I’ll prove to you that I’ll never run again, and in exchange…” He stops, thinks, considers, “You’ll try this amazing turkey recipe I have.”

  “Ugh!” I try to hit him, but it’s soft and dumb, because I have no room to wind up. “You’re so stupid, I swear.”

  Laughing, he grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head. “Marry me, Libby. I already know the answer, so I’m not even nervous. You’re kinda obsessed with me, so…”

  He’s the boy from the club. Silly, smug, and arrogant. He’s exactly who I fell in love with. “You already know the answer.” Despite my hands being pinned above my head, I still manage to lift up and draw his lips to mine. “So yeah, I guess. But–”

  He pulls back with pursed lips. “But. There’s always a but.”

  I nod. “But, I will marry Gunner Bishop, not Theo Griffin.”

  “Babe!”

  “Make it happen, Bishop. You can keep Theo for your company shit, and I swear, when in the office, I will call you Theo if that’s what you need. But in our world, in our everyday lives, and on my marriage certificate, it will say Gunner Bishop, because that’s the name you were always supposed to have.”

  “I can’t do Bishop on the certificate, Lib.” Eyes blazing with what may be regret, his voice turns serious. “That kid went missing twenty years ago, he was declared dead a little while after that. I can’t resurrect him on paper unless I want some massive auditing problems.” Arranging himself over me, he frees up a hand to brush wispy strands of hair off my face. “I would. If it meant that much to you, I could make it happen. But I should first mention the trouble I’d get into. Possibly even time in prison. You know this, Lib. You can’t just pick up a new name, forge documents, and expect to get away with it.”

  My brows furrow, because he makes a logical point. We would all be in a lot of trouble – even me, for not reporting what I know. I’m a cop, I know of crimes, and I’m not reporting them.