Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,76

keep Quinn safe. Quinn puts herself in dangerous situations in hopes of keeping Will safe.

And all along, McGrady plays them both, because he’s always a step ahead. Always a little sneakier than everyone else around him.

Well, until Sophia Solomon entered the picture.

Now the game has changed, and McGrady stands no chance.

It’s ironic really, that he has such a hard-on for dancers, and his ultimate demise will come because of one.

Quinn

Wake-Up Call

Darkness surrounds me, but it’s not the scary kind. Warmth hugs me like a cocoon, like I’m cuddled up in bed on a lazy Saturday morning. A gentle humming fills my ears, white noise that encourages me to slumber and enjoy my rest.

I lay in my half-asleep, half-awake daze and catch up on the sleep I never normally have time for. To work at the club into the early hours of the morning, then to be up again and at the studio in time to teach toddlers; it’s exhausting, but rewarding.

I make less in my hour with twenty toddlers than I do in an hour onstage at Zeus’. But one is to pay the rent, while the other is to fill my soul, bring me comfort, and help excuse the dancing I do at night.

My neck hurts a little from sleeping while sitting up. My shoulder aches, but that’s been constant for a while now, so it’s not really something new or alarming. My bladder stings from needing to use the bathroom.

I think the third is the reason for waking when I’d rather stay asleep.

I try to turn to my side, to ignore my demanding bladder, and go back to sleep for just a little longer, but a deeper ache in my shoulder makes me whimper.

I tug at whatever is holding me, murmur “Ouch” when it hurts, then tug again, because my sleepy brain hasn’t yet figured out not to do that.

“Ow,” I moan under my breath.

I try one last time to turn over, to yank my arm around and pull my blankets up, but with the hiss of pain that escapes my lips comes a grunt from somewhere close by.

From dozing to alert, I snap my eyes open to catch a glimpse of darkness outside, of the reflective lights from a freeway, and then the blur of trees whizzing by. Then I flip over in my seat – not my bed, but a chair! – and scream.

A shadow sits in the seat beside mine, his shoulders large and imposing, his chest thick and commanding.

“Stop screaming!” the man’s voice attempts to carry over mine. “Jesus, Q. Quit it!”

“What the fuck is—”

I stop, and using the dashboard lights that illuminate the space in front of me, stare at my wrist. A silver handcuff flickers in the lights from the stereo, and beside my hand, Jamie’s is attached to the second cuff, and moves every time I move.

“What the fuck!”

Screw my pain, screw my sleepiness, screw it all.

I swing my arm out to try to get him off. “What the fuck, Secretary?” I yank again, and cry out when my shoulder burns. “What are you doing?”

But then it hits me. Like a sledgehammer on a watermelon. Like a freight train slamming against a wall. Realization hits me, and my gaze snaps back to the darkness outside and the trees whipping by.

“Where’s Will?”

“Quinn. You need to calm down.”

“Where the hell is Will?” I turn back to Jamie and shout, “Where is he?”

“Calm down!”

“Where is he?” I unsnap my seatbelt and fling it away so hard that the metal clip hits the window with a loud crack. “Where is he, Jamie? Where’s my brother?”

I turn in my seat, climb to my knees, and look into the dark backseat. “Will?” My heart races, aches, throbs. “Will!”

“Sit down!” Jamie yanks our joined hands and tries to force me to spin. “We are going seventy fucking miles an hour, Q. Sit down before we end up on the news.”

“Where is he?”

I spin back and drop down into my seat, but I lean against my door, lift my legs, and slam my feet against Jamie’s shoulder. His ribs. His thighs. I kick the shit out of his arms, his chest. I clip his jaw with a wild kick, and scream when my foot connects with the wheel, and the car jerks to the left.

We skid in the dark – burning tires, screeching brakes, roaring engine. Jamie wrestles to keep the car on the road, but he does it one-handed while using the other to pin my legs in