Chapter 27
JUDAH
“Ithought you were practicing,” I said as I slipped into the cabin and toed off my mud-caked boots.
We had gotten a gully washer of a storm last night, so I went out early this morning to check the perimeter and make sure the tire tracks from the last time I went out in the truck were still hidden or had washed away.
Rain continued to ping on the tin roof from the scattered showers that raked over the forest.
Amelia was still in the oversized T-shirt she wore for pajamas and was curled up in bed, staring aimlessly at the wall. The playing cards she had been using were discarded on the couch.
I shucked off my jacket and ran a hand through my hair, pushing the rain-soaked strands out of my face.
“I did,” Amelia said listlessly as she closed her eyes, pretending to be tired.
She wasn’t tired.
“Talk to me.” I headed to the kitchen, turned on the tap, and scrubbed the dirt out from under my nails.
“About what?”
I hummed under my breath, as if I was thinking it over. I wasn’t. I knew exactly what was going on. It’s exactly what had destroyed me when I first started working for Valentine.
Depression.
The loss of normalcy.
Regret.
Mourning.
I peeled off the damp T-shirt that was plastered to my chest as I sauntered over to the bed. My jeans were next.
That made her lift an eyebrow.
“Come on,” I eased down into the bed. “Talk to me.”
Amelia rolled over, facing away from me.
She wasn’t getting away with that. I wedged an arm beneath her and dragged her up and onto my lap.
Amelia flopped backward against my chest and groaned. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. No one’s fine when you’re in our situation. I’m not fine, so I don’t want you pretending like you are.”
“Jude—”
“When Cole and I got out of the Navy, Cole had a job lined up with this fancy private security firm. They had a spot for me too. They hire a lot of former military and intelligence types.” I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I regret not taking that job every single day.”
The personal tidbit worked, piquing her curiosity. “Why didn’t you?”
I sighed. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“What’s your plan after this?”
The odds of her winning her way out of this were high. But the odds of both of us getting out of it unscathed were slim to none. The moment the smoke settled, I was going to find her.
But I couldn’t scare her with reality. I needed her to focus.
“We have to get out of this first. Then we’ll think about what’s next.”
Silence lingered as we sat together. After sixty seconds, her tense muscles began to relax. After ninety seconds, she slumped against me and let me hold her. And at ninety-seven seconds, she tucked her head under my chin. “I was angry at Joel yesterday.”
“And today?”
“I miss him.” A tear streaked down her cheek. “I miss him so much it hurts, but I’m still so angry at him . . . I hate him. And I hate myself for it.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “And I kind of hate you too.”
“Good.”
Amelia let out a caustic laugh. “Why is that good?”
“Because you’re holding multitudes. When your emotions become singular, you lose your edge.
That’s when people give up. We’re not out of the woods yet.
I want you to be angry. Hate me. Like me.
Tolerate me. Be hurt. Be sad. Have good days.
Have bad days. Recognize them all because that kind of self-awareness will keep you going. ”
“I hate it.”
Her ire made me laugh.
“Stop it!” Amelia shouted as she swatted at my leg. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are, little fox. You’re analytical. And that’s not a bad thing.”
“Why do you say it like that? Why not just say that’s a good thing?”
“Because it’s okay to acknowledge that not everything is predictable the way cards are. I think that all the things you can’t account for are what make life worth living.”
“Like what?”
I smiled against her temple. “Like you.”
“What’s the reverse of Stockholm syndrome?” she teased. “When the abductor falls for the abductee?”
“Smartass.”
She wasn’t wrong, though. And it had only been eleven days.
After the multitude of lives I’d lived, I wasn’t scared of much. Anything was survivable.
But, for once, I wasn’t sure I could survive her.
Every other scenario had been about getting myself to the next day. But this? I’d sacrifice myself to get her to tomorrow without a second thought.
I reached over, opened the drawer in the bedside table, and pulled out my burner phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Not making promises,” I said as I dialed the number for Cole’s secure line.
I held the phone to my ear and waited until I heard the connecting click.
Cole’s answer was nearly immediate. “You good?”
He probably thought we were on the run again. I shouldn’t have been calling, save for a life-or-death emergency.
“Yeah. How are we doing on that exit package?” I asked.
“Working on it.”
Curiosity danced in Amelia’s eyes as she listened.
“You got the mark nearby?” I asked.
Amelia’s expression changed entirely when she realized who I was talking about.
Cole grunted something unintelligible that roughly translated to, “Yeah, and if he doesn’t stop driving me up the wall, I’m going to use him as target practice.”
Muffled noises floated through the line—doors opening and closing. Something electronic like an elevator. I had only been to the Keller & Associates headquarters once. Much like the safe house I shared here with Cole, the outside told a different story than the inside.
From the outside, it looked like a completely forgettable office complex. But inside? It was a high-tech, state-of-the-art fortress.
Whereas Amelia and I had distance and discretion on our side, Cole and Joel were heavily fortified.
“Make it quick,” Cole clipped before handing over the phone.
“Hello?”
I had heard Joel Hawthorne scream more than talk, but the voice was familiar enough. Amelia snatched the phone out of my hand and pressed it to her ear as a torrent of tears rolled down her face. “Hi,” she whispered.
“Mia?”
“Uh-huh.” Amelia’s shoulders shook as she cried, grief consuming what anger couldn’t.
Joel’s sigh of relief was palpable. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
I tightened my arms around Amelia and kissed her shoulder.
“Bored as fuck,” Joel said as his tone turned far too casual for how upset Amelia was. “I’ve started doing administrative shit around here just so I have something to do since I can’t go outside.”
“I’ll kill him,” I muttered.
Amelia swatted my leg. “But you’re okay? How’s your knee?”
“I’m fine,” Joel said. “One of the people that works with Cole snuck a physical therapist in here so I can keep up with my progress.”
The slump in her shoulders as relief flooded her expression made me feel ten feet tall. “Good,” she said. “That’s good.”
“How long are we gonna be stuck like this?” Joel asked, his blasé tone turning petulant. “I’m ready for things to get back to normal. We’re missing the best part of baseball season. That’s our thing.”
The corners of her mouth lifted in a wistful smile. “We’re working on it.”
I tapped my wrist, reminding her to keep it quick.
“I miss you,” she croaked. “And I love you.”
“Love you too,” Joel said. “And I’m sorry.”
I tapped my wrist again.
“I’ve gotta go. But I’ll try to talk to you again soon,” Amelia said.
Cole snatched the phone and hung up on his end before Amelia or Joel could get another word out.
“He’s a prick,” I muttered. “Kid deserves to be a little fucking bored.”
“Maybe this will be like rehab for him,” Amelia said quietly. “An extended time-out.”
I tipped her chin up and kissed her. “Feel better?”
She nodded. “Thank you for that. I’m sure calling is a risk to operational security . .. or whatever. So—just—thank you.”
I turned the phone off and slid it back into its hiding spot. “Stay sharp. Stay clever.”
Amelia eyed the playing cards. “I need to practice, don’t I?”
“You need to learn to count cards with distractions. Sometimes you don’t hide that you’re following the count, and I can see it on your face.
It needs to be second nature or you’ll get made.
Vegas isn’t like Atlantic City. You can’t set up and start slow.
We have to get in and out before they realize how much they’re losing. ”
She tilted her head up. “You gonna help me?”
I stole another kiss and nudged her forward just enough for me to slip out from behind her. “It’d be my pleasure, Dr. Hawthorne.” I grabbed the playing cards from the couch and grabbed another deck from the bedside table. “Deal out for three.”
Amelia shuffled, then leaned forward and dealt out two cards each for her and the two invisible players along the edge of the bed, as if the dealer were standing at the end of the bed.
When she leaned forward on her knees and set the rest of the deck at the foot of the bed, I climbed behind her, lay on my back, and slid between her legs until her pussy was right over my mouth.
Amelia shrieked and pulled away with a nervous laugh, but I reached up and held on to her hips, keeping her right where she was.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked as she reached down and brushed my hair out of my face.
“Exactly what I said I was going to do. I’m helping you practice.” I stroked the back of my knuckle down the gusset of her panties. “And I’m going to have a hell of a time doing it.”
She tried to sit back on her haunches, but I grabbed the back of her thighs and kept her up and over my mouth. I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh and dipped my fingers inside the tight cotton panties, relishing the wetness that slicked her entrance.
“I—I can’t do speed drills like this,” she said with a gasp as I pressed my thumb to her clit. “As appealing as it is, my knees will not allow me to kneel like this for the whole drill. Not with two decks.”
“Then fucking sit, sweetheart.”
“Jude—”
I tugged her underwear to the side, leaned up, and lapped at her waiting pussy.
“Oh fuck,” she whispered as her knees buckled.
“Focus,” I growled into her cunt. “Hit on all three. What’s the count?”
I listened to the flick of the cards as she dealt out another card to each pile, matching each new card with a swipe of my tongue across her pussy. “What street did you grow up on?” I asked when all went silent and I knew she was calculating.
“W-what?”
“What street, Dr. Hawthorne?”
“Why?” she gasped, her thighs tightening around my ears.
“You need to be able to keep the count and carry a conversation or have a drink.”
She sucked in a deep breath. Just when she was about to answer, I slid two fingers inside of her.
“Fuck!” Amelia groaned.
“Answer me.”
“Dearfield Lane,” she croaked as she braced both hands on the mattress.
“What’s the count?”
“Plus one.”
“Player on the right gets up and a new guy comes in. Player on the left goes another round.”
While I devoured her clit, she shuffled the cards, cleared the right, and dealt a new hand.
I circled my fingers inside of her pussy until I felt the rough patch of nerves. The tremors in her thighs began to grow. “Take a seat, little fox,” I teased, sneaking a peek up at her.
She tipped her head back and swore at the ceiling.
“Running count?”
“Unchanged.”
“Play it out.”
Cards shuffled around as she added to the stack. Just when she was about to tell me the new count, I pressed the pad of my finger against her asshole and sucked on her clit. Her knees gave out and she dropped down onto my mouth.
Atta girl.
I tipped my head to the side and said, “Keep going.”
She dealt out hand after hand, immediately calculated the running count, and practiced playing her own hand, all while I had a fucking feast.
Every piece of her was sweet and soft. I filled her with my fingers. With my tongue. I sucked and licked and bit. Her reaction to each new sensation was loud and unashamed.
But she never lost the count.
When I first started working for Valentine, my job was to stand against the wall. It was hazing in the worst way because it was boring as hell. I used to watch the tables and try to count cards as each hand was dealt. I always lost it when something distracted me.
But Amelia . . .
Her hips rocked as she ground against my mouth. Each time she rattled off the new count, her answer was more and more breathless.
“How many windows are in here?” I asked as I broke away from her dripping pussy to breathe.
She didn’t skip a beat. “Four.”
“How many shelves are down in the cellar?”
“Thirty. Six sets of five shelves.”
“What’s the count?”
“Minus three.”
I curled my fingers inside of her and slowly pumped them in and out of her. “Good girl.”
Amelia groaned. “Please let me come.”
“Get through the rest of the deck.”
She growled under her breath, but it was enough motivation to make her speed up.
I fucking loved the way she rocked her hips and slid her cunt up and down my mouth, riding my beard as she shamelessly stole her pleasure.
Each new count was said in an increasingly shaking voice.
She may have been inexperienced, but she wasn’t shy about it. Amelia took what she wanted without feeling the least bit guilty—something I had never managed to do.
Her sexual curiosity wasn’t na?ve. It was simply like she had fasted, and now she was ravenous.
I was more than happy to give her everything she wanted to consume.
She stammered through the next two counts as I latched on to her clit and sucked. Still, she managed to keep going.
Part of me wanted to best her. To break her concentration and make her lose the count. I wanted her to be driven absolutely mad with pleasure. I wanted to give her every bit of goodness that I could. I wanted to offer it to her on a silver platter.
The other part of me wanted her to walk onto the casino floor in Las Vegas knowing what an absolute powerhouse she really was.
“Last round,” she rasped as she flipped the remaining cards.
“Don’t stop now, little fox. Soak my beard.”
I felt the tremors racing through her entire body as she neared the end of the deck. She and I both knew the answer when all the cards had been played, but I gave her the satisfaction of whispering “zero” right as she came.