A Game of Hearts and Heists: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Romance (Girl Games Book 1)
A Game of Hearts and Heists: Chapter 13

“Don’t do this. You’ll regret fucking her over, Scar.”

“Don’t preach at me. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” She swings me around. “So that intensity between you? That’s acting, is it?”

I shrug.

“For the love of my sanity, stop. It’s obvious you like her. I don’t have to be your twin to see that.”

“I hate her. She’s fucking ruined everything. She’s paralysed me, blinded me, made me shit my insides out. Stolen three quarters of my regular clients. I received a note that Mrs. Winters was no longer in need of my services the other day. Yet another client lost. She is a constant pain in my arse.”

“And yet you kiss her like she’s oxygen. Like she’s your everything.”

I grit my teeth, staying silent.

Stirling shakes her head. “I’m asking you to be reasonable. To listen to this.” She places her hand above my heart. “I love you, Scar, and I want the best for you. Yes, you two have a messy history, but maybe that’s how the best love starts. Think about it?”

My lips purse as I take in her words. Love? Is she right? Of course I don’t love Quinn. Do I? The more I think about it, the more I wonder how different love and hate really are. We reach the pit lane, and Stirling leaves to find Reece. I take my leathers off and hand them to a race technician, and then return the bike and helmet. Quinn hands her suit and helmet over too as Jacob, Reece and Stirling reappear inside the reception. Quinn and I enter the reception area as Stirling is shaking Reece’s hand.

Reece is sweating and pale. Which is exactly how Stirling usually leaves everyone in a negotiation. I still don’t understand how she does it. But then I suppose that is how she was trained. Charm, woo, and win. I glance at the scars peeking out from her sleeve and neckline. Her Collection tattoos used to be on her shoulders. Hers burnt off like mine when we were banished from the legacy community.

One day, Stir. One day, I swear to you, we will get them back, only bigger and better.

“Do I get to find out what the hell you’ve negotiated me into?” Jacob says to Stirling.

“In the carriage. You ready to rock?”

Quinn and I nod.

“Jacob, you’re with me. I’ll explain on the way to the carriage.” She turns to Reece and slaps him on the shoulder. “Pleasure doing business with you as usual, Reece.”

Reece sniffs. “Go fuck yourself, Stirling.” But he’s smiling, so whatever Stirling bartered for, he must have come out reasonably satisfied.

I get in the carriage, my mind still trying to reconcile everything Stirling said. The carriage rattles down the cobbled streets, rocking my body. Quinn sits opposite me, Stirling next to her, and Jacob to my right. Jacob and Stirling are deep in conversation about racing, but Quinn stares out the window, her expression distant and unfocused. Her dark curls flop in her face, a face that plagues me whether I’m awake or asleep. Too often I’ve thought of her, raged about her, fucked the hate away. But for the first time, I wonder what it would be like to stop.

Stop hating. Stop raging. Just be. To exist in a world with her where we work together. Quinn pulls her knees up under her chin. She glances at me, our eyes meeting, and it pushes a rush of heat up my neck.

No. I turn away, forcing the heat down. I don’t need anyone wheedling their way in or making me weak, distracted. I have to focus on finding this piece of map for the Queen, digging up evidence on the Border Lord to prove our parents’ innocence, and getting our legacy reinstated.

The carriage driver is one of those drivers that seems to think he exists outside of time. He takes a leisurely pace, waving at magicians on the street. I’m about ready to knock him out when he pulls onto a dusty track.

“Where in fuck’s name are we now, Stirling?” I say, frowning.

“We’re close,” she says and continues her conversation with Jacob.

I don’t recognise this place at all. The road is barely passable in the carriage. We’d be better off on dirt bikes, not that Quinn could drive one, but I’d take her pillion. It’s muddy and bumpy and dark as sin. The sun is setting, the dense trees on either side of us swallow the remaining orange hues. The rustle of branches and leaves rolls through the cabin in waves, rhythmic enough it lulls me into a daze.

The driver pulls to a sudden stop.

Quinn lurches forward in her seat. Head. Shoulders. Her entire body lifting out the seat. My instincts kick in. Body moving before my brain registers what’s happening. My arms swing out, my body braced for impact as she slams into me. I wrap my arms around her, catching her. We drop to the floor. She’s shaking. I stroke her hair away.

“You okay?”

She nods. She could have been flung into the wall. Broken her neck, cracked her head open. My throat dries, my vision tunnels. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snarl as I punch the driver, a little harder than necessary, on the shoulder. Blood pounds in my ears, my breathing elevated. My face contorted with lines and wrinkles. I want to scuff this twat by the neck and yank him out of the carriage. Beat the snot out of him.

No one hurts Quinn.

The thought hauls me to my senses. I was literally about to slaughter the carriage driver for almost injuring her.

No one hurts Quinn. I won’t let them. And that is the most surprising thought I’ve had… ever.

“Watch it, missy, or I’ll fling you out and leave you here.” He points out the front of the carriage at a giant deer standing in the middle of the road.

I slump in my seat and wipe my face, trying to clear the fog. I glance at Quinn. Annoyed that my body seems to perceive things my brain doesn’t. I can’t do this with her. I won’t. A rising hiss floods my veins. I glare at her. “Put your fucking carriage belt on.” It’s a vicious snap, and I don’t mean it. Her brow folds, a tight knot pinching at her forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my chest.

Her belt clicks, and she mumbles, “Thanks,” but she doesn’t look at me. The only person looking at me is Stirling.

Her eyebrows raised, her lips pressed thin.

“What?” I mouth at her.

She shakes her head and stares out the window.

A few minutes later, the driver slows to a stop and pulls up his sleeve, displaying a set of Collection tattoos. There’s a series of lines inked onto his skin. They’re kind of pearlescent, like a lined drawing of the city. In the middle is the blacked out shape of a mansion. He waves a hand over his arm, and up shoots a glistening map. It’s translucent and shimmers. But it’s a map nonetheless.

“What did you say the address was?” he asks.

“It’s the old steel mansion. They used to forge all the katana swords for the guild there, imbue them with magic before the building died.”

He prods the translucent map hovering out of his arm, spins it with his other hand, and pinches and opens his hand, which zooms the map in an out.

Then he drops his hand, and the map vanishes into his arm.

“We’re here. I have business to run while you’re here. I’ll return in an hour.”

“Umm…” Stirling says.

But the carriage driver pushes a button and the doors pop open. “Out, I’ll be back later.”

Stirling glares at the driver but dutifully gets out. The rest of us follow suit and we’re left alone.

Night has settled over the sky, stars gleam and wink at us. Acres of trees stand sentinel behind, and in front, an empty field. One road in and out and absolutely no sign of runes specialists or a building.

“You’re certain it’s here?” I say to Stirling.

“Hundred percent. She was on a job. We were meant to meet her as she was finishing up.” Stirling scratches her head and then turns to me. “Stay here for a second. I’m going to search the field. Maybe the mansion is on the other side or something. You know what drivers are like, one field or another, all the same to them. They get paid no matter where they dump us. Assholes.”

She sprints ahead, and Jacob turns to me. “This supposed get rich scheme… We going to spend a lot of our time in fields? Or do you guys actually have a plan?”

“One. Go fuck yourself. Two. Yes. Three. She’s handling it. Give us a second and we’ll have your princely arse in the warm, okay, baby cakes?”

Jacob snorts and ruffles my hair. “There she is. Gods, I’ve missed you on the track. You really need to stop working so much and come back to racing. I always thought you’d make a better racer than Assassin.”

“I’d be delighted to if someone stopped pilfering clients, taking my commissions after I’ve already accepted them, and appearing on jobs they’re not meant to be at. You need coin to race.” I fire a glare at Quinn, who is quietly shivering on the side of the road.

Oh, Gods.

I shuck off my jacket and hand it to her. “Stop shivering, it’s pathetic.”

A single wrinkle forms between her brows. She scans my face as if she’s trying to figure something out. “You taking it or not?”

She nods and slips it over her arms and instantly stops shivering.

I double take. She’s wearing my jacket. I mean, of course she is, I just gave it to her. But as I stare at her, something shifts inside me. I enjoy seeing it on her. And not because it’s tight and pushes her tits together. But because of how it makes me feel.

Seeing her wear a piece of me, as if she is mine. As if we belong, and I really don’t know how I feel about that.

Stirling is up the track now. She steps off the road and on to the field and…

Gone.

“What the…” I say and my feet move, automatically pounding the track. The crunch and slap of boots on a gravelly road ringing out.

I reach the edge of the field where she disappeared and shout her name. But nothing. Jacob and Quinn appear behind me.

Then, in a single flash, Stirling reappears, stepping on my feet and collapsing both of us on the ground.

“Where the hell did you go?” I mumble into a mouthful of her shoulder.

I shove her off me, and her face is stormy as she takes me in.

“Why were you standing there?”

I haul myself up. “Because you literally vanished.”

“No. I took a few steps onto the field and then started calling you over because Remy is right—” she glances at the empty field and then at me, then laughs and shakes her head.

“Clever bitch. It’s an illusion field. No wonder she isn’t getting caught,” Stirling says and stands herself up.

She gestures for Quinn, Jacob and I to follow her, and she steps onto the field again and vanishes.

I glance at the other two, shrug, and follow suit. The minute I step onto the field, there’s a brief rushing sound in my ear and then the field blares to life.

“Caught doing what, exactly?” Quinn asks.

“Only illegal stuff,” Jacob smirks.

Quinn is grey. The pallor drained from her cheeks. “Remy… Remy Reid?”

I narrow my gaze at her. “Yeah. How did you know?”

“She’s… I… I mean we.” She looks up at me, her throat bobs where she swallows. “It was a long time ago.”

Oh. My stomach hardens, my rib cage burns. I can’t bear the thought of her with someone else.

“I see. Well acquainted already then.” My words are bitter. I don’t care. Obviously. I have ex’s too. The lesbian world is close knit. There’s very few of us who don’t know each other—or have dated each other.

Doesn’t matter.

I don’t even care.

I turn to the decrepit mansion in front of us. The windows are all smashed, the turrets that clearly used to thrust into the sky are crumbling and broken. There’s ivy crawling up most of the brickwork and burrowing its way into the cracked windows. Gargoyles litter the floor, broken in two like cracked teeth, and one side of the house roof has fallen in.

But surrounding the house is a circle of magicians, all with their hands raised and facing the house. And from the mansion flow strings of pearlescent light. Streams of it pouring into the hands of magicians.

It’s a drug. The magic of a dying house. They’re not supposed to take it. The magic is supposed to be lost when the High Council demolishes a building. But when you have a runes specialist as good as Remy, it would be rude not to siphon the last of a house’s magic.

It’s potent. Like really potent. Some magicians liken it to a death rattle. The house’s last whisper, an expulsion of all its magic. And if you time it right, if you have the right magicians, then you can siphon that shit and sell it for serious coin.

That is why Remy is rolling in dough. It’s not her upstanding job in the day. It’s the drugs she peddles at night. I don’t blame her. If I could do it, I would.

The last strings of magic stream from the house in flowing silk like ribbons, and then the mansion visibly sags as if relieved it’s over. A few tiles peel off the roof and smash on the floor and the grey bricks darken.

It’s dead.

The magicians circling the house take a step forward. They crouch to their knees, with orbs of the mansion’s magic still hovering above their palms. They kiss the orbs and then pinch a tiny piece of magic off and bury it in the ground. A last rite. A final goodbye.

Several of the magicians pull chest-like boxes in front of them and pour the magic they took from the property into the box. When it’s done, they hold their hands above the lock and seal the boxes.

They stand, move their hands and fingers in a series of interconnecting loops and flicks, and then each of them inclines their head at the building.

Finally, Remy breaks the circle and turns to greet us.

“The Grey twins. To what could I possibly owe the pleasure?” she says and then stops as she notices Quinn.

“Quinn,” she says, her face brightening. And the wider she smiles, the tighter I grip my fists. Jacob slides an arm around my shoulder, as if he can sense what’s brewing inside me.

“Long time.” Remy leans in and kisses Quinn on her cheek, the other one, then on her lips.

My whole body lurches forward, but Jacob grabs my hand and holds me in place.

“It’s good to see you, Quinn,” Remy says, still smiling.

“You too, Rem.”

Rem? Fucking Rem.

Stirling glances at Remy and Quinn and then at me. She flusters and promptly shoves her way between them, separating them.

Remy is tall enough she dwarfs me. Her shock of ice white hair is shaved on the sides and spiked up into a quiff. Her eyes, though, are such a dark brown, they’re almost black. Thin limbs float at Remy’s side, making her more skeletal than human. She wears black boots, combat trousers that have seen better days and a vest top that shows her oddly large breasts. She holds herself upright, in that knowing fashion. It’s commanding, confident. Alluring. I get why Quinn dated her.

I hate her already.

Stirling pulls Remy into an embrace. “Hello, old friend.” They fist bump, and then Remy drags her in for another hug.

“Been a while,” Remy says into Stirling’s shoulder as she slaps and rubs her back with equal measure.

Remy holds Stirling by the shoulders. “Let me see you. Older, cockier, not sure about wiser though.”

Stirling laughs and shoves Remy off her. “I missed you.”

Remy and Stirling go way back. They shared a class or two at the guild, were constantly in trouble. Remy would crack the security runes of a ton of illegal meets, of clubs and places neither of them should have been. But of course, how else was Stirling going to build her network than attending these places? What I didn’t realise was that Remy and Quinn were connected. But like I said, what lesbians don’t know each other in this city?

“You missed my genius, more likely,” Remy says and grins.

At this, Stirling rolls her eyes. “We have a business deal to offer you.”

“Ahh, and the perfect timing, too. I just finished this job. They’re demolishing it this weekend. I’ll let this lot take the goods to the club and we can discuss. Do you have transport?”

Remy squints at Jacob. “Aren’t you that bike racer? Gods, you’re not driving us, are you?”

“I’m a world class driver, I’ll have you know,” Jacob says, his eyebrows pinching into a frown.

“I’ve no doubt. But I’d prefer to keep the contents of my gourmet dinner this evening inside my body rather than spewing it on the road or footwell.”

“Well, I guess you’re safe then. There’s a carriage on the way back,” Stirling says.

Finally, Remy turns to me. I force myself to smile, but it’s stiff. The way her eyes search my face tell me she realises too.

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“Remy.” I nod and stick my hand out to shake hers. I grip it. A little tighter than necessary. And she tilts her head, assessing.

I let go, stand straighter. My shoulders tense. Stirling glances at me and then steps in. She wraps her arm around Remy and tugs her toward the now derelict mansion. “Let me explain the deal. We’ve got another twenty minutes before the carriage returns, anyway.”

They saunter off into the distance. Jacob glances at me, his eyes dance to Quinn and back again and he says, “You know… I think I could do with hearing the details again. I’ll leave you guys here.” And then he’s gone too.

“So…” Quinn says, toeing the grass with her boot. “Are you cold? You can have your jacket back if you need it.”

Her lips are blue, her legs covered in gooseflesh, and she’s shivering harder than ever.

“You look ridiculous standing there like that. Come here.”

She hesitates but eventually strides over.

“I thought you hated me,” she says.

“I do,” I say and open my arms. She tucks herself around me. She’s like a little block of ice, and I can’t help but notice that she fits perfectly inside my grip. Her head tucks under my chin as she presses her cheek to my chest.

“You’re not bothered that Remy and I…” she says and inches her hands around my waist and under my jumper.

I stand a little straighter.

“Obviously not.”

I feel her smile against my chest.

“That’s what I thought. So, it doesn’t help to know that it was ages ago, and I don’t find her attractive or care one dot about her.”

I relax a little. “No.”

She nods against my chest. “But in case it did matter… we really are just friends now.”

I lock my hands around the back of her waist, pulling her closer to me. Her breasts push into my ribs. Her shivering slows the longer she’s pressed against me.

“You keep talking, and I’ll have to punish that mouth of yours.”

Her eyes glitter and darken. “I shouldn’t tell you how long we dated.”

My fingers slip to her ass, grip it and haul her up. She locks her legs around my waist. “Not unless you want to get spanked.”

She fake pouts at me. I know because lust glimmers in her eyes. “Then I definitely shouldn’t tell you about the time we fu—”

My chest flares hot. My fingers jerk, aching to pull a blade, hold it under her chin. But we’re a long way past that. I want something else, something better.

“Another word, Quinn Adams, and I will handcuff you to that tree, strip you naked and fuck you till you come all over my hand.”

She bites her bottom lip, her stare deepening. She wants it; she wants me to fuck her.

Remy, Jacob and Stirling reappear. Stirling is staring at me. She doesn’t need to speak for me to recognise that her head is bent at a ‘the fuck you doing?’ angle.

I drop Quinn to the ground and shrug at Stirling. “She was cold.”

Remy’s eyebrow is cocked, a knowing smile at the edge of her lips. Oh, whatever. She can go fuck herself, too.

Stirling points up the track. “Carriage awaits, ladies.”

I follow the group. Remy and Stirling deep in conversation with Jacob about some illegal race Remy did the security for. Quinn trails them. I bring up the rear, my mind distracted, unable to think about anything other than the way Quinn looked in my jacket, how it made my stomach knot and my chest ache. The way she locked her fingers behind my neck. How she smells of summer and fresh herbs, like her shop. The way her scent lingers in my nose, long after she’s gone. The fact she fits perfectly pressed against me like a puzzle piece.

My mind is distracted because Quinn is supposed to be my enemy.

She is ruining me.

And yet, I can’t quite remember what it felt like to hate her anymore.

And that is utterly terrifying.

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