Reshuffle (Stacked Deck Book 2) by Emilia Finn

Author:Emilia Finn [Finn, Emilia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd
Published: 2020-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

Evie

Find a Puppy, Love a Puppy

“Evelyn Kincaid, get your ass inside now.”

“What?” I swing back around on our porch and try to hide the flashlight in my hands… and the ski mask I have resting just above my eyes. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Bean?” Ben stands at the front door so the light above haloes his head and illuminates twelve or so feet of the grass in front of the porch. “Come out, Bean. Right now.”

“What?” My cousin, dressed in black just like me, walks out of the shadows and pretends she’s not holding a shovel and a bag of dog treats. “We didn’t do anything.”

“It’s the middle of the damn night, and you’re about to do something stupid.” Ben stands in the cold in nothing more than boxer shorts and a hand shielding his eyes from the light’s glare. “It’s October, it’s cold, and I know you guys are all about that poor dog sleeping in the cold. The snow is still ages away, and the dog isn’t homeless, so get inside, Evelyn, get back into bed, and Bean, grab a blanket for the couch. I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

“We’re allowed to go for a midnight walk,” I declare on a kind of dare. “You can’t tell me no.”

“Yes,” he takes a menacing step forward. “I can, and I will. I promised your daddy I’d keep you safe and out of prison. That means you need to get inside.”

I turn to Bean, who stands ten or so feet away, just inside the patch of light from the porch, and meet her eyes. I widen mine, and pray she’s somehow gained the ability to read minds in the last hour. Get ready to run, I scream in my mind. Get ready to rebel. We’re a militia, and he’s only one man.

“I don’t know what you’re sayin’,” she says out loud. “I don’t know what the crazy eyes mean.”

“The crazy eyes?” Ben snaps. “Evelyn, no–”

“Run!” I dash off my front porch and grab Bean’s hand on the way past.

We sprint into the trees lining Popcorn Palace, and giggle when Ben’s only response is “Fuck.”

“You’re so crazy,” Bean giggles. But she doesn’t slow us down. We’ve spent a lifetime running and working out, so even with a heavy shovel and a bag of treats hanging off one arm – the plastic bag hitting her leg telegraphs our location to everyone within listening distance – she keeps up, and only cries out once when she smacks her own leg with the shovel.

“Why do you have a shovel?” I cackle. “Bean! Who are you planning to bury?”

“Not bury,” she giggles. We begin to slow within minutes, since running in the woods in the dark – with a shovel – almost guarantees a painful death, and turn our manic run to a lazy wander. “It’s in case we have to dig under fences or whatever. I’ve come prepared.”

“What fences? He doesn’t have a home, which means no yard, which means no shovel needed.”

She takes a moment

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