Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,101

to shout above the noise. “We have to go!”

I drag him to the door, then through it, and duck under another pair of fighters as they swing into the parking lot and slam to the dusty ground.

Once we’re free of the oppressive bar, and in the fresh air outside, I break into a run and drag Jamie in my wake. He’s heavy, too heavy, despite the fact I know he can run fast. I drag him, grunt with exhaustion when he tries to drag me back, then I slam into the side of our SUV, and release his hand so I can fumble in my pockets and search for the keys.

“I’m gonna—” Jamie spins back around. “That guy who grabbed you, I’m not done with him yet.”

“No!” I find the keys and frantically hit the unlock button, then I spin and run at Jamie’s back.

He’s already cleared twenty feet by the time I catch up.

I launch myself at his back, grab on with both arms and legs, and I squeeze. My legs around his hips. My arms around his throat.

I know there’s a chokehold that would work in seconds, but I don’t know the move. I don’t know the pressure points. So all I manage to do is cut off his air and force him to grunt and grow larger with adrenaline.

I press the side of my face to the side of his. Sweat transfers from his skin to mine. Our breaths race, but sync. Our bodies touch from top to toe.

“Don’t go back inside.” I try to slow my breathing. My words. My heart. “The cops are coming, we have to go.”

“He grabbed you, Q. He wasn’t protecting you. He was gonna take you someplace and use you.”

“But I’m right here.” I reaffirm my grip, and rub my cheek against his. “I’m right here with you. Turn around. Go back to the car. Drive away with me.”

“He was going to hurt you.”

“I know,” I murmur. I try to calm myself, try to calm him, but my pulse beats faster when police sirens wail in the air. “You saved me. You made it all better.”

“You made me watch McGrady kiss you,” he groans. “You made me watch.”

“I’m sorry.” I reach up and run a hand over the hair that hangs over his eyes. I brush it back, and stroke his fevered skin. “I didn’t want him to kiss me. I never wanted that.”

“He was going to hurt you too.” Jamie’s voice cracks. “He was gonna use you up and kill you, Q.”

I nod and hate that he’s probably right. “I believe you.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you by taking you away from Will. I’m trying to save you.”

“I know.” I press a gentle kiss to his temple.

For every second we touch, every pass of my hands over his hair, his cheek, his chest, his steps slow, and his breathing comes back to reasonably normal.

“If we’re standing here when the cops arrive, it was all for nothing,” I tell him. “They’re gonna pick me up, take me to the station. And who knows, maybe they’re on McGrady’s payroll.” I press another kiss to his temple. “Let’s get back in the car. Drive away from this place before the cops arrive.”

“I can’t leave,” he groans. “I can’t let that guy live.”

“I hurt my hand.” It’s not a lie, but it’s definitely a manipulation. “Jamie, I hit someone, and I think I broke my hand. I need you to take care of me.”

“Your hand?” He reaches up and takes my hand in his.

I remain wrapped around his back while a couple of guys brawl in the dirt no more than twenty feet away, but Jamie takes my hand and studies it. It really does hurt. It throbs with pain. But it’s not broken, I’m certain of it.

He turns it over and studies my knuckles with wild eyes.

“Take me to the car,” I coach in a quiet voice. “Please hurry.”

Jamie

Reality

I move between rage and relief. Pain and elation. In a shitty hotel room somewhere in the middle of a shitty state, I walk laps into the worn-down carpet, and pass Quinn as she sits on the end of the lumpy, queen-sized bed.

She cups her hand, and lets her head droop, because she knows she fucked up. She knows she’s in trouble.

“Okay… I didn’t mean for that to go down the way it did,” she begins. “I swear I didn’t mean to incite a riot.”

“What if they’d beaten me unconscious, Q? What if you’d gotten