Bluff (Stacked Deck Book 6)

by Emilia Finn

  “In here. Actually,” I turn. “Galileo, come.”

  I let him into the hall, and look to Spence with a grin. “Take him out to pee. He hasn’t gone yet. He’ll probably take a shit too, so be sure to pick that up.”

  “I know your ass ain’t serious,” the man growls. “I’m not your bitch, Morris.”

  “Nah, but you’re hers. And her dog needs potty time. Off you go.” I wave him away. “Have him back in just a couple minutes, otherwise she might panic.”

  Nora

  Adventure

  “I can’t… No…” I brutalize my pinky nail and shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Yes.” He looks at me. Then at the death trap. “You’ll be fine. Just get on.”

  “I’m not getting on a fucking motorcycle with you, Tucker! You’ve lost your damn mind.”

  “You will get on the motorcycle with me, because I damn well said so.” Smiling, playful, he circles the bike and stalks toward me. He’s the hunter, and I’m his prey. “Ride me, baby.”

  “Pig. And I said no.”

  “I said yes. If you sit a certain way, cuddle up close and tilt your hips exactly right, the vibrations will tickle your clit. It’s like foreplay, and I don’t even have to do anything.”

  “You sound like you have experience,” I growl. “Your bragging doesn’t impress me, Tucker.” I skip away with a squeal when he dives forward. “I’m not getting on the fucking motorbike! It looks like you got it out of the trash.”

  “I did.” Laughing, stalking, he keeps following, and Galileo simply watches us with a tilted head. “I got it out of the trash, I took it to the garage, and I did it up. There ain’t a safer bike in this town.”

  “It’s a small town,” I argue. “Your argument holds no weight.”

  “I am about to pick you the fuck up and put you on the bike, woman. Stop screwing around, get on, and let’s go.”

  “I’ll walk.” I turn away and start toward the road. “I’ll meet you there.”

  I don’t hear him run, but I sure as hell should have expected it.

  Strong arms wrap around my stomach and yank me off my feet while my scream rings out over the parking lot. Hot, panting breath hits my neck as he slams his lips to the sensitive skin and my scream turns to a moan. “You’re gonna get on this fucking bike, Nora. You’re gonna trust me to keep you safe. And later, when your clit is primed and vibrating, I’m gonna touch it with my tongue and show you how to come like you might die if you don’t.”

  “Tucker,” I groan. “You need to stop talking like that.”

  He only carries me toward the bike. “Turns you on, huh? Are you already wet for me?”

  “No.” Yes. “Absolutely not.”

  “So if I dig my hand into your panties right now, I’m not gonna be able to glide my fingers in using your own lube?”

  “No.” Yes. I hate that my voice is breathy. “If you put your hand in my pants right now, I’ll snap your arm off and shove it up your ass.”

  “Kinky.” He sets me on my feet by the bike. “I mean, I can’t say I’ve ever done something like that before, but for you, I’m all about new experiences. We could discuss it.”

  “You’re filthy.” As soon as he releases me, I try to sprint away, only to scream and laugh when he scoops me back up. “Let me go!”

  “Get on my bike, Nora. Put my helmet on, cuddle me, and trust me to keep you safe.”

  “But then you won’t have a helmet,” I whimper. “I don’t want you get hurt.”

  “I won’t get hurt.” He sets me back on my feet, but holds my hand so tight that it almost hurts. He swings a leg over his bike, climbs on, then yanks me forward until I crash against his chest with a squeak. “Climb on, beautiful. Live a little.”

  “And die when a truck slams into us? No thanks.”

  “You can die in cars too,” he shoots back with none of the pain I feel in my heart when I realize what I made him say. “We could die standing right here, if a car were to jump the curb and take us out. We could die at breakfast because you didn’t chew your grape properly, and you choke. You could die when we fuck because my orgasm is so powerful, it just tears you to shreds.”

  I firm my lips, but laughter bubbles up and escapes anyway. “And you said you wouldn’t brag.”

  “Oh, that’s not bragging,” he jests. “That’s cold, hard fact. Sometimes, shit goes wrong, and my monster cock just can’t be held liable. It’s the risk you take when you take my pants off.”

  “So disgusting.”

  He chuckles. “Climb on.” And then he turns serious. “Please? I promise to keep you safe.”

  “When was the last time you crashed?” My heart hammers at a painful pace. “This isn’t safe.”

  “I haven’t crashed my bike, ever. The one time I started to skid in the dirt, I bailed, literally jumped off, and landed on my own two feet. Then I picked it back up, and kept going.”

  “I can’t jump off like that!” I panic. “I’m not built like a cat that lands on its feet all the time.”

  “We’re not going anywhere that has loose dirt.” He releases my hand, but only to swing his arm around my hips and pull me closer. “The fact you continue to doubt me hurts my feelings a little bit.” He stretches his neck and plants a kiss on my lips. “Have you ever seen me come home with road rash?”

  “No,” I pout. “But I make it a rule not to stare at you through my peephole when you come home.”

  “Well, that’s a lie if I ever heard one.” He steals another kiss. “I promise to go slow. You’ll feel the wind in your hair, you’ll watch the road race beneath us, but I promise not to hotdog and make you scared.” He licks his bottom lip and draws my eyes down. “I swear.”

  “I don’t know how to get on,” I rasp out. “I literally have no clue what to do.”

  “You don’t have to do anything except hug me like you mean it.”

  He passes me a red helmet, and grins as I shakily pull it on over my hair. I pat it down until it’s in place, and lift my chin as he brings his hands up to fasten the strap. “Sexy,” he rumbles quietly. “Super fuckin’ sexy.”

  “Tucker…”

  He pats my hip. “Now climb on. Throw your leg over, sit down and snuggle close, then put your feet on the pegs.”

  “What if I’m too heavy, and I knock the bike over?”

  “Oh please.” He jockeys me back with that hand on my hip, and studies my eyes through the helmet visor. “Throw your leg over, beautiful.”

  “You swear you won’t let me fall?”

  “Swear. May my sister and yours smite me down if I do.”

  “You need to stop talking about our sisters,” I grumble.

  I use my grumpy mood to help me swing my leg up and over. And though my heart pounds in my throat, I climb up onto the narrow seat, find the pegs for my feet, then I squeeze Tucker so tight that he grunts.

  “Please don’t drop me,” I whisper.

  “I won’t. And why can’t I speak of our sisters? They existed. They’re allowed to be remembered.”

  “I…” I hesitate. “I don’t know. So few people speak of Lisa, it’s like a punch to the gut every time you speak of her so casually.”

  “A bad punch to the gut?” he asks.

  “No…” I consider. “I guess it’s just more of a surprise. You’re like a culture shock for me. Everything you do, everything you say… it’s all so different to what I know.”

  “Because everyone else treats you like a fragile soap bubble. You’re tougher than that. You ready?”

  “For what? Oh god!” I bury my face between his shoulder blades when he starts the bike, and revs it so loud that my ears ring. “Oh shit, oh fuck. Oh god, it’s so loud!”

  “It’s a racing bike,” he chuckles. “Not a fuckin’ Moped.”

  “It’s so powerful.”

  “That’s what all the pretty girls say when I take my pants down.”

  “You’re so disgusting!” I slam my fist into his ribs, and hide my
smile when he jumps with a squeak. “Can you be serious for one effing minute? I’m having a midlife crisis, and you’re still talking about your dick!”

  “You’re gonna have to get used to it. I don’t know how not to talk about my dick. He and I have been through a lot together.”

  “Charming,” I drawl. “Go slow. Oh god!” I squeak when he starts rolling forward. “Go slow, I’m begging you.”

  “I’ve got you. Say goodbye to Galileo. Tell him he can stand down until I bring you back.”

  “Oh god,” I cry when he revs the bike. “I love you, Galileo!” It’s like I’m going to war. “Be a good boy for Kane!”

  “I’ve got him.” My tattooed friend stands just twenty feet away and smiles.

  He looks proud. He doesn’t seem to give a single damn about the way Tucker speaks of his dick. He makes no remarks when Tucker manhandles me, or when he steals kisses. He only smiles and, eyes brimming with pride, watches my every move.

  “You know how to contact me,” he continues. “You know I’m two minutes away.” He pats Galileo’s ears. “Have fun, okay?”

  I chew on my bottom lip so hard that I’m bound to draw blood. My pulse beats against my throat until it almost feels like I can’t breathe. My stomach feels like it might explode from anxiety-induced nausea. But I reaffirm my grip around Tucker’s stomach, and nod for my protector. “Okay. Love you.”

  Kane presses a hand to his heart and rocks back on his heels. “Love you too, hon. See you in a bit.”

  “You ready?” Tucker peeks back over his shoulder and grins. “It’s gonna be loud, and the bike will rumble and feel a little scary, but you’re safe with me.”

  “I think I’d rather go to bed with you.”

  He cuts the engine. Dead silence. Just like that. “We can do that instead. I’m totes open to your suggestions.”

  “No!” Just as he planned, I throw my head back and laugh. “Start the stupid bike before I die of old age.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He restarts the engine, revs it so loud that Galileo throws his head back and howls, then he releases the clutch, and we jerk forward. I scream and squeeze him tight, but he says nothing, only continues to roll forward until we approach the driveway and the front wheel stops on the road. “Ready?”

  I scrunch my eyes shut and nod.

  Chuckling, he revs once more and pulls out onto the street until we join the almost non-existent traffic on this early Sunday morning. We’re supposed to be heading to the diner for breakfast, so when we cruise along Main Street and don’t stop in front of the glass-fronted building, I release my death grip on his body and study the diner as we pass by.

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a ride,” he calls back. “But look at you, already sitting up like a big girl.”

  “Jerk,” I huff.

  I snuggle in closer and rest against his back so I can study the world as we pass it by. Relaxing little by little, I smile beneath my helmet. “Thank you for this.”

  “You’re so welcome.”

  He slows at an intersection, sets a booted foot on the road while we wait for the green light, and peeks over his shoulder so I catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes and wicked smirk. “You look sexy back there. Can you see yourself in the windows?”

  I swallow my nerves and nod.

  “You look good. Brave and powerful.”

  I clear my throat and nod toward the intersection. “Green light.”

  “Oh!” He whips around and revs so loud that I scream, but he only ambles across the street like we’re not essentially sitting on a rocket that could – and very likely will – spontaneously explode.

  We make our way to the very end of Main, then he turns along some residential streets, and lets us cruise like it’s totally normal to ride a loud bike and wake the entire population of our town on a Sunday morning. Without knowing, Tucker brings us past my mom and dad’s house, the home I spent years exiled and hiding in, the home I had to escape from or die in.

  My parents did the best they could for me, they helped me, they fed me and hugged me and cried with me, but they were mourning their dead daughter.

  They tried to get me to open up, to help me “get better”. They tried so very hard, but it wasn’t until the Bishops knocked on our door that I started to come back to myself. It wasn’t until the man I sort of considered my sister’s murderer – though, of course, it wasn’t Kane who pulled the trigger that ended Lisa’s life – tiptoed his way into my life, and with him, Sonia, that I was able to face the world again.

  I dreamt that the Bishops were my monsters for the longest time. Years. But then they became my friends. My family. Instead of asking me to get better, they rode my fears with me, they stuck around for the breakdowns, for the tears and tantrums, they stuck it out and visited Sonia with me, they listened to me when I explained how they were my monsters, and though I know my words hurt them, they grew to love me instead.

  Out of darkness and tragedy, came a love so deep, so pure and bright, that I was able to begin to heal.

  I’m not perfect, but then, no one truly is. The Bishops aren’t perfect, but they love fiercely, and they take care of those who matter to them. They showed me that scary men have hearts, that bad actions come with regret. They showed that I was allowed to feel for them, even though, in my parents’ eyes, that was wrong.

  The Bishops are responsible for my sister’s death – for their daughter’s death, as far as my mom and dad believe. And no matter how often my parents are invited along to my therapy sessions, they can’t accept what I do. They can’t love, they can’t forgive, they can’t move on from their grief.

  But that’s their journey. They’re allowed to feel however they want to feel to be able to cope with their loss.

  I still have a long way to go, myself, and frankly, I’ll never truly be normal, when compared to other women my age, but I’ve been able to love, to forgive, to smile, and spend time with my monsters. I have friends, such good, amazing, wonderful friends, I have a godchild on the way, and somehow, in some crazy twist of fate, I have an army of military men willing to walk my dog and pick up his poop on a chilly Sunday morning.

  “You okay back there?”

  And I have this.

  With a smile, I nod and watch trees fly by. “Yes, I’m great.”

  “Wanna go a little faster?” He peeks over his shoulder, one fast look. “Totally your choice.”

  “How much faster can we go?” I look to the road flying beneath our feet. “Like… not dangerous fast, right?”

  “Well,” he laughs. “We’re going ten miles per hour right now. So I could probably double that, and you’d still be able to walk faster.”

  “Ten?” I balk. “Seriously?” I try to look over his shoulder. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m really not.” His chest bounces with humor. “I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep from boredom.”

  “I feel like we’re going a hundred miles an hour!”

  He revs a little more. Slowly, so very gently, and speeds up.

  “Fifteen. Sit up and watch the world go by, beautiful.” He leans a little to the left as we move around a gentle bend, then we start up, up, up toward Lookout Hill. “I’m not gonna let you fall. Twenty miles per hour.”

  “Stop telling me!” I screech my words, but they come on laughter too. “We’re going twice as fast as we were a moment ago, and a moment ago, I thought we were already speeding. Don’t tell me more!”

  He only shakes his head and watches the road. “You’re the bravest soul I know.”

  “Shut up,” I squeeze him tight and grumble. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I wasn’t.” One-handed – one-handed! – he drives the bike, while the other comes up and takes my hand. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can feel it. I feel his lips press to my knuckles, and my heart splats to its death. “You think I’m teasing, but I’m really not. You’re doing something that terrifies you.”

  “It’s just twen
ty miles per hour.” My voice breaks.

  “But to you, it feels like two hundred miles per hour. You’re facing a fear, and you’re doing so well. I can’t say I’ve ever been that brave before.”

  He releases my hand, and goes back to steering. “Hold on, okay? You can scream, but don’t panic.”

  “What?” I hold on tight and panic anyway as he revs and sends us roaring along the winding road. “Aaaaaagh! Tucker!”

  “Hold on tight, but feel the breeze,” he coaches with a smile in his voice. “Close your eyes, pretend you’re flying.”

  “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” I tighten my thighs, I squeeze my eyes shut, but then I lift my chest, and slowly, so very shakily, lift my arms. “I’m gonna fall.”

  “You’re not gonna fall.”

  “I’m gonna fall!”

  “You’re not gonna fall!”

  “I’m flying!” I throw my head back and scream. “Ahhhhh!”

  “Yeah,” he nods. “You are.”

  “Aw, shit. They’re back.”

  Evie Kincaid always makes an entrance. It’s her thing, her compulsion to always be noticed, I guess, so the second she swings the diner door open, and her eyes stop on mine as I sit beside Tucker, she grins like the Cheshire cat, and drags Ben across the room to stop beside our table. She might be three months pregnant, but she doesn’t look it yet.

  “You look cozy.” She snatches a strawberry from my plate, and slides into the booth across from us so Ben has no choice but to slide in second. “What’s shakin’?”

  “Eating.” I drag my plate closer when she reaches out for more.

  It’s almost lunchtime, and we’re only just getting to breakfast. I’m starving, and just because I love Evie, doesn’t mean I’m willing to share my food today.

  Ben slides in much slower than Evie, silent, predatory as he studies us side by side. “So…”

  Grinning, Tucker throws his arm over my shoulders and makes a statement. Pulling me in closer, he stares right back. “So?”

  “This…” Ben points a finger between us. “We’re doing this? We’re just…” He does the jazz hands, but much less enthusiastic than a regular person. “Nora’s got a man, and we’re all cool with it?”