Chapter 21
Hayden
“What do you mean they gave us a fucking deadline?” I snap and slam my hands down on the table. A few men from the table beside us look over their shoulders, but I ignore their glares. Instead, I throw my own at Declan.
He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We have three days to get this shit sorted, or they're going to be sorting us,” he says in a low voice. “They aren’t happy that we aren’t delivering.”
“Fuck them and their stout ale,” I hiss and drag my fingers through my hair. “They’ve always been snakes in the grass. I’ve never trusted them. I told you from the beginning.”
Declan holds up his hands in defeat. “We’re the ones to blame. We’ve been distracted and doing our own things with this case.” He looks pointedly at me, and I shrug.
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but my surveillance has been mostly necessary,” I retort and fold my arms across my chest.
“Mostly,” Silas mutters under his breath.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Whose side are you on, huh?” Silas holds up his hands but says nothing so I continue, “Things have changed. I want out.”
“Things have not changed,” Declan snaps and looks over at the bar where Emelia is wiping out glasses with a rag. “You can’t just say ‘I’m out’ and walk away. You know this.”
“The hell I can’t,” I nearly shout and stand, pushing my chair back and dropping my cards to the table. “The situation has changed. I can’t go through with this knowing that she could get hurt,” I hiss under my breath and stalk out of The Black Crown.
“Hayden?” Emelia calls my name as the door closes behind me.
I can’t do this with her in the picture, and I can’t not have her in my picture. Things are different, no matter how hard Declan tries to fight it. I’ve lost too many pieces of my soul already, and I can’t bear the thought of losing another piece that just came into the light.
My bike rumbles beneath me, and I flip my visor down over my eyes. I’m not going to execute a job that could turn into a bloodbath. I can handle a lot of blood on my hands, but I can’t bear the thought of a single drop of Emelia’s blood spilling because of me. The bike shoots off into the street, and I let out a deep sigh as the wind whips around me.
I make it six miles before my phone starts ringing. I answer on the Bluetooth in my helmet. “No,” I bite out before they have a chance to speak.
“Well fuck you too,” Emelia bites back, annoyance coloring her tone.
I mentally smack myself in the forehead with my palm. Of course it would be her. “Sorry, Angel, I thought it was going to be Declan.”
“Yeah. I figured. It looked like you left in a hurry. They left shortly after, but I didn’t have time to confirm tonight. Am I still coming over, or is this a bad time?” I can practically see her chewing on her bottom lip as she asks the question.
“Give me three hours,” I say and lean my body to the right to take a sharp curve on the backroad that I had been traveling.
“See you then,” she confirms and hangs up. My stomach lurches with excitement. I just saw her not even ten minutes ago, but dammit if I don’t get giddy whenever she’s around. Her darkness calls to mine, and I know that I don’t have to hide when I’m with her. She’s quickly climbing the ranks to be as important to me as Declan and Silas.
That thought gives me pause. Do I know her enough to allow her to be that important to me? Do I trust her enough? My brain says fuck no, she’s too slippery, but my heart says fuck yes, she’s your soulmate. At this point, I’m not sure who to listen to.
My phone rings again and this time I’m confident that it’s Declan. “What?” I snap and make another leaning turn, this time I’m so low that my knee scrapes across the pavement. Thank fuck for padding in this riding suit.
“We’ve come to an agreement,” Declan says in a clipped tone. “We’re waiting for you at the house. Hurry the fuck up so we can get this over with.”
A grin stretches across my face as I double back on my bike and head home. “Are we playing for it?”
Declan groans and I know the answer. “Loser deals with the Irish.”
I hang up and let out a “Whoop!” and pump my fist into the air. At least we are getting somewhere.
I park my bike in the garage two hours later and stalk into the house. “Alright, boys, who’s dealing?” I ask and rub my palms together.
Silas looks up from his spot on the couch and grins. He wants out just as much as I do.
Declan waltzes into view shuffling a deck of cards between his hands. “You know I always deal, asshat, now sit down and listen.”
“Fine,” I level him with a wicked grin as I drop to the floor at the coffee table. “But I’m not calling you daddy.” I watch with sick satisfaction as a blush creeps up his neck and colors his cheeks under his trimmed beard.
Silas coughs into his fist to hide his chuckle and slides to the edge of the table. We both heard him and Emelia last night, and we both agreed this morning that he was just as bad off as we were even if he wouldn't admit it.
“You’ll be calling me a lot of names when I wipe the floor with you two sorry bastards,” he snaps and regains his composure. Declan deals out the cards and we square up, ready to settle this like men.
The side door opens suddenly and Emelia pushes inside with an armful of pizza boxes and a case of beer. God bless her, she is truly the darkest saint. I fight the urge to sit up on one knee and propose to her, again. I want this woman tied to me in the worst kind of way.
“Hello, boys,” she calls in a sultry voice as she drops the food on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing?” she asks and comes to stand behind the sofa where Silas is sitting. She slides her hands down his chest and leans forward to kiss his cheek. Silas just grins like an idiot with a faint pink tint on his cheeks.
“Just playing a card game,” Declan says gruffly and draws a card from the deck before discarding another from his hand.
“Oh?” Emelia walks around and takes a seat on the floor beside me. “What are the stakes?”
I look from Silas to Declan and tilt my chin slightly. They both return the knowing look. We can’t tell her the truth. She’s too volatile to trust with this information, especially about someone she knows. “You,” Declan lies smoothly without breaking eye contact with me. “Whoever wins gets to fuck you first.”
“I’m in,” she says suddenly and drums her fingers on the table. “Deal me in.”
I watch as she narrows her eyes at Silas, who bites his lip to hide a smirk. “That’s not how this works, Princess,” Declan says, now staring intently at her.
“Oh, I think it is,” she says in a low voice, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table. She gathers all the cards from our hands and tucks them into a neat stack. “When I win,” she states confidently and shuffles the cards in a flourish from one hand to the other in a move that I’ve seen Declan do many times. “I fuck myself.” She looks into each of our eyes for several seconds before she grins. “And you all get to do nothing but watch me.”
Fucking hell I love it when she smiles like that. It’s terrifyingly beautiful and makes my cock stand at attention every damn time. I watch the way she handles the cards, dealing them out with grace, and I know that we’re in trouble. In more ways than one.
Declan narrows his eyes at her and clenches his jaw. “You swindler,” he says with a dark chuckle. “You played me.”
“Like a fiddle,” she answers and picks up her cards to inspect her hand.
I make another mental note to find a local jeweler post haste. I need this woman to be mine, and I needed it yesterday.
We play a round and Silas folds. No shock there. He’s terrible at poker because he can’t keep a straight face. Another round and no one folds, but once the cards are down I realize that I’m out. I grin and lean forward to watch the showdown.
“Alright, Princess,” Declan says in a voice dripping with danger. “Let’s see them.” He lays his cards out on the table, and I wince. A four-of-a-kind hand is hard to beat, even with skill on your side. “I’ll see you in my bed later,” he whispers with a smirk. Cocky bastard always wins.
By the look on her face, she knows it too. Emelia sighs and brings her cards down and lays them out slowly, one at a time. I watch with rapt attention as each card is revealed.
Ace. King. Queen. Jack. Ten. All black. All clubs.
A royal flush.
Declan stares at the cards in shock. Silas jumps to his feet with a shout, and I clap my hands slowly with a shit-eating grin on my face. Emelia grins at Declan and folds her arms across her chest. “I’ll be sure to send you a video,” she says with a laugh.
I reach over and wrap my arms around her slight frame, giving her a squeeze. “Royal flush! Who knew you had it in you,” I tease softly and kiss her cheek. She leans into my embrace and her warmth seeps into the cold darkness of my soul. “Your majesty,” I say fervently and bow my head low.
Silas and Declan both also make a show of bowing with varying degrees of amusement on their faces. Well, Silas is amused. Declan still looks pissed. He never loses. “Pizza?” Silas chirps and rolls over the back of the couch to get to the kitchen before the rest of us.
We joke around and talk about inconsequential things as we down the beers and pizza that Emelia ordered. I keep my hand firmly on her thigh as we sit around the table and share stories about ourselves. Nothing too revealing obviously, we all still have secrets to keep. I meet Declan’s knowing eyes over the rim of my glass, and I tip my head ever so slightly.
There is no doubt in my mind that the four of us are now entwined together and we will be for the foreseeable future. I’m not letting go, and by the looks Declan and Silas are stealing of Emelia, they aren’t either. And that is a big fucking problem.
We still have the Irish to deal with, but that can wait just a few more hours. I grin over at Emelia and squeeze her leg, hard. We were promised a show tonight, and I do not intend to miss a single second of it. The guys and I tend to disagree on a lot of things, but this is one thing that we all agree on wholeheartedly.
Fuck the Irish.