Bluff : Book 2 of the Complicated Parts Series

by Ashley Jade

  He looks at the guy with the baton. “Take note, Matteo. She gets me. She also doesn’t waste my time with bullshit. You should have tracked him down after the poker match and killed him that night.”

  It’s safe to say we’re a little lost in translation and not on the same page.

  Nanna pokes Reggie and he clears his throat. “Madam will offer you two million.”

  Campanelli laughs. “Why would I do that when I can get three million from this girl?”

  “Well, I mean pawn shops never offer retail value—”

  “I just told you I liked you, Bella.” He skims my cheek. “Don’t ruin the start of a good thing between us.”

  “She’s married,” Preston says through clenched teeth.

  But more importantly—gay.

  “Not for long. I told you what would happen if you ever crossed me and stole my money.”

  “He didn’t steal your money. Your money was stolen from him by some Russian guys. Trust me, I was there. Besides, do you really think he could spend that kind of money in a single night. And even if he did, don’t you think he’d be hiding out somewhere more clever than an old woman’s house?”

  He starts to speak, but Reggie holds up a check. “Madame will offer you twelve million dollars if you leave both her granddaughter and her husband alone. For good.”

  “How do I know this is legit?”

  “She’ll contact the bank and verify the funds for you if you wish.”

  I look at my nanna, waiting for her to take it back and cackle as he kills us. But she sits stoic, watching Campanelli like a hawk.

  Campanelli drums his fingers along his jaw. “Preston brings me decent money. Then again, I’ll probably end up killing him sooner or later. He’s not exactly a pleasant employee, you know? One of these days that little attitude problem of his is going to land him at the bottom of a lake.”

  Preston starts to speak, but I hold up a hand. “Believe me, I get it. I married the guy. But for twelve million he’ll be out of your hair for good. Think about it, that’s one million a month for a year. Although there’s taxes so that—”

  “Men like Campanelli don’t pay taxes, Kit,” Preston bites out. “Now will you shut the fuck up already so he’ll take the offer and let you go.”

  It’s taking everything in me not to tell one of Campanelli’s men to whack him. “Are you seriously telling me to shut up when I just saved your ass? Unbelievable. I swear to God you are the rudest, most—”

  “Thirteen,” Reggie says. “Now please, sir, do us all a favor and take the offer. If you don’t, these two will keep arguing until they kill each other.”

  He scratches his chin, pondering the thought. You’d think the man was being offered a sale on a used car after a major flood instead of thirteen million dollars.

  “Fine. On one condition.”

  “Are we supposed to guess?” Preston mutters after another moment passes.

  The look Campanelli gives him makes me inwardly shudder. “If you ever step foot in Vegas again, I’ll kill you.”

  Preston’s face falls faster than a child finding out the truth about Santa. Before he can do something stupid and argue, I say, “He won’t. Swear on my life.”

  The look Campanelli gave him has nothing on the look Preston casts my way.

  I can’t focus on that though because Campanelli releases his hold on me and walks over to Preston who’s still being restrained.

  He twists the gaudy gold ring on his finger. “He better not.”

  Before anyone can blink, he launches his fist into Preston’s groin. Hard.

  I don’t even have balls and I’m recoiling.

  The men laugh as they release him and he drops to the ground. The tendons in his neck straining as his face turns red with both fury and agony.

  And because Campanelli is a special brand of ruthless, he issues him a sharp kick before he motions for his men to head out.

  I’m so upset I’m shaking. I want nothing more than to give the douchebag a taste of his own medicine. But if I do, this will no longer be over.

  Instead, I do the only thing I can. I situate myself on the ground beside a hunched-up Preston and rub his back, hoping it will alleviate some of the pain.

  Campanelli spares me one last glance before he gets into the SUV. “I like you.”

  That’s not creepy at all.

  Preston grunts as they drive off. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.” Slowly, he staggers to his feet. “I would have kicked his ass if it weren’t for two of his bitches holding me back while another took cheap shots at me.”

  “I know. You’re big and strong. A modern-day Tarzan.”

  I reach for his arm to help but he shucks me off. “What the fuck were you thinking involving yourself? Again?”

  Looking up to the sky, I stifle my annoyance. Only Preston could be internally hemorrhaging, or worse, and still find the time to yell about me butting into his life when he fucks it up.

  “You know, I don’t remember Cinderella or any of the other princesses giving their heroes this much crap.”

  The dirty stare he levels me with would be comical if it wasn’t so chilling. “What if he killed you? What if he decided to shoot you on the spot when you approached? Ever think of that?”

  No. Not once. The only thing I could think about was saving him in time. “I—”

  “I don’t want your coffin on my conscience. Do us both a favor and stop doing stupid shit.”

  “I was only trying—”

  “Well, don’t. Stop trying to play hero, Bishop. It won’t bring them back.”

  It would hurt less if he rammed my head into the asphalt.

  He starts hobbling back up the driveway, discarding me like litter on the side of the road.

  Reggie and Barry have the good grace to look down, but not her. She’s eyeballing me, waiting to see what I’ll do next.

  Her assistance always comes at a price. No matter how much my heart wants to believe that maybe she’s turned over a new leaf due to her illness, I can’t delude myself about what kind of woman she really is.

  The only thing I can do is play into her hand so I can get what’s rightfully mine.

  She’ll be dead soon.

  “Thank you for what you did.” The words are like sawdust in my throat.

  Preparing to follow my unappreciative asshole husband, I start to turn, but then Reggie says, “She wants the doctor to see him. After he calms down of course.”

  I nod. Considering I’m almost positive Preston would never agree to go to the hospital, it’s not a bad idea.

  “While he’s being checked out, your grandmother would like to discuss the estate with you and Barry.”

  I eye her skeptically. “You mean it?”

  She holds up her notebook and I nearly throw up in my mouth when I see what’s she’s written.

  Grandbabies.

  “You’re unbelievable.” I shake my head in disgust, preparing to walk away.

  “She’ll leave you your parents’ house if you agree to try. You can move in as early as this week. She’ll have everything prepared for you.”

  My heart thumps a painful rhythm and I close my eyes. I’ve wanted my home back since the day I was ripped out of it.

  She’ll be dead soon. Christ, it’s like my new mantra.

  Driving air into my lungs, I force myself to seriously consider her new term. It takes nine months to have a baby. Everyone knows it doesn’t usually happen on the first try. Not that me and Preston will be trying any of that.

  The woman only has a few weeks left. Months at most. This is an easy get around.

  Besides, it’s not like she’ll park herself at the foot of my bed and demand to watch. Although I wouldn’t put it past the evil witch.

  “Fine.”

  I jog up the driveway, so I don’t have to see the self-satisfied look on her face.

  I’m getting part of my parents back, and it’s all that matters.

  Even if I have to give u
p part of me in the process.

  Preston’s almost reached the house by the time I catch up. Which is bad for him, because it’s given me time to stew. “You had one job, Holden. All you had to do was sit there and look pretty.”

  I can practically see the tiny hairs on the back of his neck raise as he spins around. “You’re fucking with me, right?” He inches closer and my breathing turns staticky. “Are you really going to stand there and blame me for putting your cunt grandmother in her place and for you being reckless enough to almost get yourself killed?”

  Guilt, the traitorous bitch, snags me. He has a point.

  “I’m not saying—”

  “It’s like you don’t have a single drop of self-preservation in you.” Disgust coats his words and I inwardly flinch. “You’re low hanging fruit for all the assholes in the world.”

  “Like you?”

  “Yeah, like me.” There’s a genuine uneasiness in his eyes. A blemish in his stone-cold armor. “He could have killed you and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing I could do to stop it.” He punches his chest. “Do you have any fucking idea what that feels like?”

  Not that it excuses his behavior, but when I look at things through his perspective, I can see how me showing up threw him off kilter. Preston hates being put in a position where he can’t manipulate or control the outcome. Almost as much as he hates being vulnerable.

  I pretty much handed his enemy his Achilles’ heel on a silver platter.

  But I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

  Instinctively, I bridge the distance between us. “I do. Because he could have killed you.” My hand goes to his face, but he catches my wrist at the last moment, almost like the contact will scald him.

  “I’m gonna get cleaned up and head out. Since your grandmother came to your rescue and paid Campanelli off, it’s safe to say you have this in the bag.”

  Before I can protest, he stalks off, leaving me to choke on his dust.

  As usual, he has this uncanny ability to make me want to push him off a cliff…and then turn myself into a body of water at the last possible second just to make sure he lands safely.

  He’s a jerk. He’s mean. And he’s cruel.

  But he’s Preston.

  I see the parts of him no one else bothers to. The parts he doesn’t want anyone to see.

  He’s approaching the bathroom when I catch up with him again and I sashay past him, locking the door behind us.

  “What are you doing, Bishop?”

  I grab the first aid kit and a bottle of peroxide from the cabinet under the sink. “Sit.”

  When he gives me a look, I tell him, “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  Reluctantly he closes the lid to the toilet and sits. “You’re annoying.”

  Inhaling a breath, I place the supplies on the counter and stand in front of him. “And you’re merciless.” I pour peroxide on a cotton ball. “I don’t care if you think being a good person and choosing to look for the good in others makes me stupid. I won’t apologize for being who I am.” My voice trembles and he curses under his breath. “I won’t apologize for my emotions either because I’d rather feel everything there is to feel in this world…than nothing like you do. I’d rather—”

  He cups my face, rendering me speechless. “I don’t think you’re stupid.” I can almost hear his teeth grinding. “And I don’t want you to apologize for being who you are, I just want you to stop…” His voice trails off and he looks away.

  “Stop what?”

  The fingers on my skin spasm. “Your mother’s engagement ring, you never should have—”

  “It was my only option.”

  “It shouldn’t have been an option at all. Not for someone like me.”

  “This might sting.” I place the cotton ball on his lip so he stops talking. “You gave the Russian dude a million dollars to save me without batting an eye, I’d say we’re about even.”

  He snorts. “Not even close.”

  Ignoring him, I set to work on the cut on his cheek next. It’s deeper than the others. “You might need stitches for this one.”

  He gestures to the first aid kit. “If there are butterfly stitches in there I can take care of it myself.”

  I reach over and get them. “You seem to have a lot of experience with this. Do you get your ass kicked often?”

  His eyes turn to steel. “Not anymore.”

  Instantly my heart aches and I feel like a monster for my offhanded comment. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

  “Pretty powerful words for a girl who hates death.”

  “I know.”

  His hand curls around my hip, stilling me. “You never mentioned you didn’t graduate.”

  “Didn’t think I needed to.”

  His face screws up. “The thought of returning to classes after a school shooting must have—”

  “That wasn’t it.” I hold his stare. “It was more like what happened after the shooting.” A flicker of resentment pops through the surface. “In a hospital room.”

  His dark eyes go wide, like he can’t believe what I’m insinuating, but then his expression turns somber. “Shit.” His grip on my hip tightens, almost like he’s afraid I’ll run away. “I didn’t want that. Believe it or not, I do give a fuck about what happens to you.”

  “Right.” I dab the cotton ball on his wound, being way less gentle than before. “Because nothing says you care like smashing someone’s heart to smithereens.”

  His thumb strokes the flesh above my waistband. “I did it for you. I did it so you—”

  “Be still my heart, you stuck your dick in her mouth for me?” Placing a hand on my chest, I mock-gasp. “How noble of you.”

  A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I wanted you away from her.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. She hurt you and it was obvious you wanted to fix things. Either that or you just had this insatiable need to screw her again.”

  He grabs my face forcefully. “You’re so fucking wrong, Bishop. I didn’t do it because I wanted to get off and I didn’t do it because I wanted to fix shit with her. I did it to hurt you because it was the only way I knew you’d come to your senses. You couldn’t see the forest through the trees back then. Someone needed to show you the right path.”

  “Did the right path involve me getting arrested?”

  Shock crosses over his face. “What?”

  I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter, what’s done is done. And technically it wasn’t your fault, it was mine.”

  I try to turn away, but his hands slide to the small of my back, caging me. “What happened?”

  Since there’s no point in lying, I spill. “I was in a dark place after everything went down. I hung out with the wrong people and pushed the right people, like Breslin, away. Even my nanna’s threats didn’t work. Long story short—I met a girl at a club one night and after a few drinks…”

  I peer down at my shoes, embarrassment hitting me square in the chest.

  He tilts my chin up. “After a few drinks, what?”

  I look up to the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “You know me—I had tunnel vision and ended up falling head over heels.” I sniff. “She wanted to go to some party for her agent—she was a model, which shouldn’t come as a surprise because as you already know—pretty girls are my kryptonite. Anyway, I inadvertently gave her my keys and we took off. Next thing I knew, my car was sitting in the middle of someone’s house and I was being arrested for a DUI and a purse full of cocaine that wasn’t mine. She was nowhere to be found…shocker.”

  “Christ.”

  “I know. I royally fucked up. Thank God no one was home or hurt. If it wasn’t for Breslin, Landon, and Asher coming to my rescue, I would have been up shit creek without a paddle. Your brother bailed me out of jail and pretty much let me live in his home for a year while I was on house arrest. All three of them chipped in to help pay for my lawyer and they got me through one of the hardest times of my life. I don’t know where
I’d be if it wasn’t for them.”

  He holds my gaze. “I’m so fucking sorry, Kit.”

  The sincere look in his eyes tells me he means it.

  “Me too. But it’s over and done now. It took a while, but eventually, I found a decent job I liked with a boss who was willing to hire me despite my record, and I got my life back in order.” I laugh sardonically. “Or rather, I did. It’s a bit messed up at the moment.”

  And that’s when the Band-Aid on the dam comes off.

  Big, ugly sobs wretch out of me. The impact of everything that’s happened over the last few days hitting me like a nor’easter on steroids.

  I’m losing everything I worked so hard to put back together. My stability, my sanity. My sexuality.

  For the first time since my parents died, I was able to build a life that didn’t involve my nanna’s iron fist. But that’s long gone now. And even though I chose this path in order to keep what little of my parents I have left…there’s a small part of me that hates myself for giving in.

  However, I know I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.

  Without warning, he pulls me closer, his arms coiling around me snugly despite the momentous amount of pain I know he’s in.

  He doesn’t pacify me and tell me it’s going to be okay like Breslin would. He doesn’t tell me to toughen up like my nanna always has. And he doesn’t lie and say he’ll always be there for me like every other person before him…because we both know he won’t.

  Instead—he holds me as I continue to shatter. Holds me until I’ve cried every bit of my heart out and there are no more tears left for me to shed.

  He holds me until the hurt subsides and I can breathe again.

  And he does it without any judgments or scrutiny. He lets me be me—even when what I am is one big mess.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeats when the worst of my meltdown has diminished. His voice is so faint, I almost don’t hear him. “I knew it would hurt you, but I didn’t think it would…”

  “Not everyone is a stone like you, Preston. Some people are more like Origami…we fold, bend, and change shape. We find a way to adapt when life throws us curveballs.”

  But at the end of the day…we’re still paper. Still fragile.

  Still a lightweight.