Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,88
was making an observation. I like your eyes. But you already knew that.”
“You like my chin too. Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to touch it.”
“Shame,” he mutters. “I’ve been waiting so long, I almost asked to touched Will’s before we left yesterday.”
Laughter bubbles up inside my chest, but I tamp it down… extinguish that flame before I expose myself as a non-robot. “You should ask him next time. Let me know how that works out for you.”
“Ha.” He chuckles in the back of his throat as we step up onto the curb and stop by a bench seat. “I’ll ask him. There’s no way in hell both of you are gonna kick me in the face in the same week.”
“Don’t bet on it.” I turn so we stand toe to toe, and lift my hand between us. “Undo me, please.” I smile my most innocent smile, and try to be discreet while I study the area surrounding us.
We’re in a small-ass town that warrants a fire station, but seemingly no police station. A sandwich shop stands open, but without a crowd, meaning the bologna was probably opened a week ago. Not a single car has ambled past us since we’ve been stopped, which means when I run, it’ll be straight back to the freeway, because the chances of hitching a ride in town are slim to non-fucking-existent.
Without a single ounce of suspicion in his eyes, Jamie produces a key from his pocket, and begins working it into the lock on the cuffs. “You know, if you’d just cooperate, this wouldn’t be necessary.”
“I feel like we’ve had this discussion before. Thanks.”
He leaves the cuff on my wrist and frees his own, but beggars can’t be choosers, so I don’t complain and ask him to remove mine. That would probably sound suspicious.
“Can you see if they have grilled chicken?” I ask. “And then just go nuts with the salad. Ask for extra, because I need something to unclog the cheese and fried meat from my digestive system.”
“You’re sounding a little fancier these days, huh?” He backs away and digs his hands into his pockets. “The chick I knew ate baked beans on her hotel bed, and stole crackers from the local store.”
“I didn’t steal them,” I counter with a frown. “You paid for them.”
“Did I?” He tilts his head and grins. “Ballsy assumption for you to make. My family has beef with the family that owns that store, so what makes you think I paid for them? In fact, how do you know there isn’t a wanted poster in the window of Jonah’s store right now, searching for the cracker thief?”
“Doesn’t your family also have beef with the ice cream parlor lady? Have you stopped to think that maybe you’re the problem, and not them?”
He shrugs and stops moving backward. Instead, he tracks forward until he stops right in front of me.
Just go inside, already! Go away so I can run away.
“There’s a wanted poster inside that parlor, too. Can I see your…”
He lets his words trail off, but reaches down to take my hand. Bringing it up between us, he fingers the cuff like he might be considering taking it off.
He moves the silver aside, and frowns at the slight reddening of my skin where it keeps rubbing. “Does that hurt?”
“Yeah.” Turn it up. Pout, on. Puppy-dog eyes, engaged. “It hurts really bad. I think you might have chipped my wrist bone or something.” Go away!
“Really?” He brings my hand higher, bends his neck, and then crushes my heart just a little more when he presses his lips to the sensitive, reddened skin. “I’m sorry for hurting you. It’s never my intention.”
“Can you undo it?” I bring my bottom lip between my teeth, and draw his eyes down. “Please?”
“Do you promise not to run?” His eyes come back up to mine. “It’s really important you behave yourself, Q. I know you’re stubborn, and I know you don’t want this, but I’m doing the right thing. If you want me to trust you, then you have to promise that you’re not gonna run.”
“I promise.” I don’t promise! God, it hurts my soul to lie so blatantly to someone’s face. “I won’t run. You have my word.”
“Your word?”
I pause for a moment and swallow down the disgust I feel for my lying ass. “My word. I won’t run.”
“Damn.” Chuckling and shaking his head, Jamie pushes me down until my ass slams against the bench seat, and within a second, the spare cuff wraps around