A Game of Hearts and Heists: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Romance (Girl Games Book 1)
A Game of Hearts and Heists: Chapter 17

Scarlett sits up and slams her blade into the table. “Then let the training begin. We knew we’d have to train. The Never Woods, the militia, all they do is increase the importance of everyone being able to fight competently. Right, everyone up. We’ll do a couple of hours now, and then you can all go for the night.”

I get up, my brain still swirling with thoughts of Remy. I grip her arm.

“Promise you’ll stay quiet?” I breathe.

Remy raises an eyebrow at me, her lips pursed. “It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

I dig my nails into her arm, pull her closer and hiss, “Promise me.”

“Fine,” she shucks me off. “I promise. But if they find out and they ask me, I’m not taking the fall for you.”

She stalks off to find a place on the mats. And I’m left wondering what happens when Scarlett discovers who I am? I didn’t use to care. Let her find out because all we wanted was to kill each other.

But now… Now things are changing. I don’t want the games to end. I don’t want… whatever we have—

“Quinn, move your arse,” Scarlett says, using the blade to spank my cheek.

I scuttle to the middle of the warehouse where Stirling is laying mats out that she must have sourced from somewhere.

Scarlett pairs everyone up. Remy and Jacob, as they are almost as tall as each other. Though part of me wonders if she’s paired Remy with a buff guy in the hope she gets her arse handed to her. Scarlett doesn’t have to say she’s jealous, I can tell from the stiffness in her jaw every time she sends a glance Remy’s way. If she feels like that, maybe she’ll forgive me for not telling her who I am.

Scarlett puts Stirling and Morrigan together, a terrible idea if you ask me. And by the vicious glare Morrigan gives Scarlett, I’m actually worried for her safety, given Morrigan’s power.

But that leaves me partnered with Scarlett.

The chance to throw her around would usually appeal, but my mind is filled with thoughts of what if, and what happens when?

Scarlett takes a deep breath and her voice booms around the warehouse. The tone changes. More serious, deeper, stricter, commanding.

I like it. I want to do exactly what she says, whatever she says. She enjoys being in front and teaching. I can tell because of the way a tiny crinkle appears in the corner of her eyes. It’s only ever there when she’s content. It’s rare Scarlett gives away anything facially. She’s usually stoic, part of her original Assassin training, no doubt. But I’ve spent enough time with her now to notice the differences, and this, she loves. I decide, for whatever reason, to try a little harder for her.

“First, we learn defence. The chances are the militia will attack when we’re least expecting it. We need to be prepared to defend ourselves,” Scarlett says, projecting and gesturing with big movements.

Everyone nods, and Scarlett continues.

“Number one. Do not defend with the squishy soft parts of your body. You defend with hard bones and absolutely no areas where you have arteries. For example,” she points to the outside of her forearm, “you use the outer edge as it’s all bone. If you expose your wrist to an attacker, and they have a knife, they could cut your wrist and you’ll bleed out.”

I move from foot to foot, the realisation of how serious the game I’m playing is dawning on me. This is life or death: mine, father’s, the militia’s, the teams. Scarlett demonstrates a variety of blocks, low ones to block kicks, high ones overhead to block arms dropping axes and weapons on us.

“Now, I want you to practice these blocks in turn. If you’re defending, finish your blocks with an attack. Whether that’s a punch or kick, whatever you can get out. Run each block ten times a piece. And then swap attacker and defender. I want the attackers to go for it. Really attack with all your body weight. Do not hold back. The militia won’t. I expect you all to be bruised by the end of this session,” she pauses, examining each of us. “Well? what are you all waiting for? GO.”

The room erupts. Scarlett rounds on me, her eyes glinting, her smile a thin snarl. “You ready for this, baby?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She launches herself at me without telling me which attack she was going to do. And by all rights, I should have been pissed at her. I could have been hurt. But I guess the militia won’t tell us how they’ll attack, so why should Scarlett? Not if I stand any chance of being able to defend myself.

Scarlett’s arm swings at my head. I don’t have time to think; I react. Bam. Forearm out. Block. And before I realise what I’m doing, I’ve launched a punch straight at her solar plexus.

It doesn’t make contact. Scarlett cups her hand around my fist, catching it as it was going to make contact.

She steps aside, an eyebrow raised, a lopsided smile. “Not bad.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just reacted. This is weird… usually we…”

“We’re trying to actually punch each other?”

“Yeah,” I say laughing.

“Really try to punch me. That was a good swing you got. But let’s go again. I promise you can’t hurt me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

She licks her lips. “I’ll sweeten the deal. You land a punch on me, and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Whatever I want? Oh, now that’s a deal I can take.”

“You and your deals.”

I launch myself at her. Legs, fists, body. I give her everything. Scarlett blocks, ducks and then comes for me. This time she reaches for my collar to scruff me and put me on my arse. But this is one I recognise.

Malachi used to do this to me as a kid. I land my hand over the top of her arm, yank her forward and off balance, and then throw a kick to her ribs. But Scarlett saw it coming. She disentangles and slaps my leg away. While I can defend myself in a scrap, I’m not trained, not like her. I lose balance and take us both down.

Scarlett lands on top of me, her arms pinning me to the floor, her chest pressed against mine.

She’s right above me, her breath flowing over my lips. It’s sweet and deep. The press and weight of her body on top of mine makes my cunt heat. I’d much rather strip her clothes off and roll around the mats than fight her.

“You seem to enjoy being on top of me, don’t you?” I say, a cheeky grin peeling across my lips.

Scarlett closes her mouth, her gaze exploring my face. This is how I get her.

“You’re right where you should be,” she says, grinning, and slides her knee between my thighs and against my crotch. I let out a moan.

I lean in; she leans down. I want the kiss, but I want to win more.

As her eyes close, I clench my fist and slam it into her ribs. The blow knocks her off balance, and I draw my knee up and use all my weight to flip her onto her back. I close my legs around hers, like I did with Malachi. I pin her arms to the ground, making sure she can’t move.

Her cheeks are bright red. Fury tremors through her expression.

“Two nil to me, baby.”

She wriggles out and rolls me off her. She clears her throat and addresses the team, the rage dissipating. “This is another great lesson. You want to stay on your feet. This isn’t a judo ring. We’re not here to wrestle, and you don’t want to wrestle the militia. You get on the ground and shit is going to get far more dangerous. We’ll deal with those techniques next time. Continue.”

Scarlett rounds on me, her eyes darkening. I tiptoe my fingers up her waist, between her cleavage and onto her chin, which I pull down.

“Anything… I… want…” I place a soft kiss on her lips. “Someone once told me all the best deals are sealed with a kiss.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Someone wise and beautiful and—”

“—And egotistical and irritating and—”

“—And enough of that. Let’s say we raise the stakes? Double or quits. If I can land a punch, I get to do whatever I want to you?”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

She laughs. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She flings forward, a jab, jab, hook. I block, block, block and attack. Turns out, while I might not be quick, I’m really, really fucking strong. And by the end of training, both Scarlett and I are blowing hard. She makes the group run through another set of attacks and another set of defences, And by the time we get to the end of the session, everyone is red faced and glistening. Sweat runs down my neck and temples, I have big splodgy wet patches on my clothes, and every single muscle is screaming.

Scarlett folds her arms, taking me in, her eyes running me top to bottom. “If I were a betting woman, I’d say you had some kind of training. Especially given some fights we’ve had on jobs.”

I laugh. “No, but I did have a physically bigger, younger brother, who pretended his sister was a brother. But no, no formal training.”

“Then I’m impressed.” She turns to the room. “Let’s leave it there for tonight. Tomorrow, I want you here in the afternoon once you’ve worked on your own mission research. Once you’ve cracked the basics of self-defence, we’ll run weapons training. If any of you have sense, you’ll go down to the open baths in the centre of town and jump in the ice bath and then get in the hot pools. It will help your muscles because I can assure you by the end of this week you’re all going to be in agony.”

“Phsst,” Jacob says. “I have to stay fit for racing. I’ll be fine.”

“Is that a bet you’d like to make, Mr. Jones?” Scarlett says, pouting at him and folding her arms.

Jacob opens his mouth but shuts it again. “I’m a betting man. What’s the stakes?”

“If you’re not in agony by the weekend, I’ll cook dinner on the last night before we leave for the mission.”

“And If I am in agony?”

“Then you cook.”

Jacob rubs his chin but then nods. “You’re on.”

Scarlett’s face darkens at the same time as smiling, and it’s mildly terrifying.

“Oh, Jacob, you’re completely and utterly, royally fucked now, sunshine,” Remy says, laughing as she picks up her jumper and heads out for the night. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Jacob follows her out, and then Stirling says, “Are you coming?”

“Coming where?” I say, confused.

“The bathhouse? Trust me, you’ll need it before tomorrow unless you want to feel like a carriage ran you over.”

“I… umm.”

“Much to my chagrin, I’m going,” Morrigan says and picks up a pile of books and deposits them into her bag.

I glance at Scarlett, who nods agreement.

“Fine. Let me lock up.”

Twenty minutes later, as my muscles are ceasing, we arrive at the bathhouse. It’s an old relic left behind by histories lost to our memory now. They’re open to the public, but it’s dead tonight. There’s only one other person in the far corner. That, at least, is a saving grace.

“The changing area is over there,” Stirling says, pointing to an open stone corridor.

“Where are you changing?” I ask.

“I’m stripping and diving right in. The quicker I get in, the less I’ll hurt tomorrow.”

And just like that, she whips off her top and trousers and jumps into the cold pool feet first in only a sports bra and knickers. When she bursts to the surface, she squeals.

“FUCCCK, it’s freezing.” Her teeth chatter, but she doesn’t get out.

Scarlett is looking at her watch. “Forty seconds to go.”

“Fuck you and your fucking watch, Scarlett.”

Morrigan cackles.

“You won’t be fucking laughing when it’s your turn,” Stirling spits. Which only makes Morrigan laugh harder. Perhaps there is still a chance for them both.

Stirling turns a delightful shade of red as she grips the sides of the drop pool. It’s only big enough for one of us to get in at a time.

“Ten. Nine…” Scarlett counts down, and the more numbers she says, the more ferociously Stirling glares at her. I swear she’s going to knock her sister out. But as the timer hits one, she scrambles out of the pool, cussing, and jumps into the hot tub. The relief instantly relaxes her expression.

“Morrigan, you’re next,” Scarlett says.

Morrigan strips. She’s curvy like me, but when she drops her clothes, the woman on the other side of the bathhouse stops what she’s doing and stares, her mouth parting.

I can see why. It’s not the perfect hourglass Morrigan has, though that is a sight to behold. It’s not even her waist-length jet black hair. It’s the fact that 75% of her skin is covered in Collection tattoos. She has to be the most powerful magician I’ve ever met. I thought only royals had the ability to wield that much magic. Even though I knew Morrigan was powerful, even I can’t stop my mouth from dropping either. Both of her legs are sleeved in tattoos. Her back too. Only her chest and abdomen are clear. It’s an incredible achievement for someone only in her early thirties. I can’t even fathom the power she will hold when she’s a few decades older.

She takes a few deep breaths, Stirling catcalling from the hot tub. Morrigan gives her the birdie and says, “Shut your trap, Grey.”

Then she jumps in. She bursts through the water screaming obscenities and I can’t help but laugh at her. Only this time, it’s a nervous laughter. Scarlett is smirking as she tracks the time on her watch.

“Three. Two. One… and time.”

“Fucking Stirling. This is your fault,” Morrigan snaps, glaring at her.

“You’ll thank me when you’re not dying of lactic burn in the morning,” she says and gestures for her to get in the hot tub.

She does, and although it’s clear she warms up immediately, she’s still scowling at Stirling. Is this how it’s going to be the entire mission?

Scarlett, still smirking, turns to me. “Your turn.”

I press my lips together, knowing this will be the coldest sixty seconds of my life.

“Don’t worry, you only have to do it three times tonight,” Scarlett says, practically hyperventilating. Tears of laughter leak out and run down her cheeks.

“You’re an epic arsehole. I’ll be timing for you after. Extra ten seconds, I think.”

Which only makes Scarlett laugh harder. She stops, though, the moment I strip to my underwear. She tries to keep her eyes on mine. Though the minute I reach the edge of the plunge pool, they rake down me. This, at least, makes me smile. I like knowing I have an effect on her.

That I can stop her in her arrogant tracks.

She’s not invincible.

I steady myself, take a deep breath and then leap into the pool feet first. When I break through the surface, a scream rips from my lips. It is ferociously cold. My entire body burns. My extremities are immediately numb. The cold steals my breath and I have to concentrate to avoid panicking. It takes about forty of the seconds for me to calm down, and then this strange sense of tranquility envelops over me. The cold loses its sharpness, and I settle into an almost delirious elation. Then, the timer is up, and Scarlett offers me a hand to pull me out.

I take it and as soon as the air hits my skin, I’m freezing all over again. Stirling and Morrigan clap me from the hot tub. I snatch the watch out of Scarlett’s hand and say, “Your turn, motherfucker.”

Scarlett laughs and strips while I climb into the hot tub with the other girls. And it is no word of a lie when I say it is the most blissful and glorious few seconds of joy I’ve ever experienced while my body adjusts.

“Ready with the timer?” Scarlett says.

I suck in a small gasp as I glance down Scarlett’s body. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen her so undressed. Whenever we’ve fucked, it’s hurried, frantic, a mess of limbs and fighting.

The tight lines of muscle, the abs carving up her stomach. Everything is toned, her thighs meaty and muscular despite being long. She doesn’t really have a waist, she’s straight up and down. She wears men’s pants and a sports bra, and her nipples are hard beneath the fabric. It takes all my strength to tear my eyes away and hit reset on the watch.

“Ready,” I say, unable to look up again.

“Go,” Scarlett says, and then splashes into the pool.

“My Gods, you two are sickeningly into each other. Anyone would mistake you for being head over heels in love,” Stirling says.

“Leave them alone,” Morrigan growls. “Love is always beautiful.”

“Love?” I say, confused, and glance at the pool, wondering why Scarlett hasn’t come up for air.

“Excuse me. I’m going to go home. I’m tired and need to rest up before meeting Remy tomorrow.” Morrigan gets out of the pool and leaves.

“She won’t surface. Hardcore show off,” Stirling says.

“She stays under the whole time?”

“Disgusting display of willpower, isn’t it?”

I glance at the clock. Fifteen seconds down. I can’t even imagine how cold it is with her head submerged too.

“You love her, don’t you?” Stirling says.

“What? No. I…”

Stirling smiles. “I thought so.”

My mind flits to the racetrack. Stirling’s words, you’ll regret.

“You don’t hate me, then?” I ask, my voice quiet.

“Why would you think that?” she says, frowning.

“I…”

“Of course I don’t. I want Scarlett to be happy. You seem to make her happy. I think you bring out the best in her. You soften those hard edges.”

She grips my shoulder as Scarlett breaks the surface bang on sixty seconds.

“Show off,” I spit, but I can’t stop thinking about what Stirling said. Of course, I don’t love Scarlett. That’s ridiculous.

I don’t.

Do I?

This is business. It’s all a game. A ploy to stop her hurting my father. A way to get my journal back.

Scarlett wades into the water, her face relaxing as much as each of ours did as we slid into the warmth.

“I’m off,” Stirling says. “Catch you soon.”

When she’s gone, I glance at the corner of the bathhouse. The other woman has left too. Scarlett and I are alone. In nothing but our underwear in a hot tub with a clear sky and stars twinkling.

“You did well this afternoon,” she says.

“Thanks,” I say, running my hands across the surface of the water. My skin already smells of chemicals.

Scarlett catches my hand and pulls me through the water until I’m right in front of her. My heart thuds against my ribs. I want to reach out, run my fingers over her wet skin. Follow the rivulets of water beading and falling down her neck, her chest, her breasts. But this feels different. I don’t know how to sleep with her like this. I’ve only ever fucked her angry. My mouth dries.

Scarlett folds my fingers into a fist. Kisses the knuckles.

“One thing. When you punch, make sure your fist is like this.” She turns my hand until my knuckles are straight, thumb at the side tucked underneath.

“Not like this.” She tilts my fist a little up.

“You have a habit of angling the punch up a little. But if you really hit hard like this, the pressure goes all the way down your wrist, through your arm bones. If you land a blow hard enough, you could break your own bone.”

She draws her fingers down my wet skin, pointing at the bones and tilting my hand. Everywhere she touches me, it leaves a wake of tingles. For the first time, I notice that her hands and knuckles are scarred. I trace the lines of the old wounds, wondering how she got each one of them. Some are fresher than others, but most are faded, echoes of jobs and missions.

“How old were you when you started training?” I ask.

She sighs and leans back against the edge of the tub. “I don’t remember ever not training. I think even as a toddler I had instructors.”

“You didn’t have a choice?”

“It wasn’t that. I showed an aptitude for it, I guess, so my parents encouraged it. And I willingly complied. Who doesn’t enjoy being the best at their skill of choice?”

I nod, knowing exactly what she means. I displayed a talent for herbs and alchemy from a very young age. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re all just self-fulfilling prophecies. Rather than giving us a chance to explore other options, we’re all herded into whatever field we show the most promise in, and that’s it.”

“What field of magic would you go into if you weren’t a medic?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I love poisons, but I don’t think I have the physique to be an Assassin.”

Scarlett’s expression turns serious. “What you lack in cardio speed you more than make up for in strength. There are ways to compensate.”

I smile. That’s sweet. Sometimes I look at Scarlett and I wonder who she really is. What’s beneath the hard shell exterior?

“I also don’t know if I’d have the kill switch gene in me. It’s one thing supplying poisons to people because I’m not doing the kill. But it’s different when you have to look the person in the eye as you take their life.”

“Well, you seem to want to kill me often enough.”

I chuckle. “Touché.”

She smiles then leans her head against the poolside and kicks back, floating. “It’s quite something, the first time. I think the guild trained the feeling out of me. The first kill was hard. But there’s no room for emotion in the field. You feel, you die. Over time, they drill it out of you.”

“I wonder if you’d find it easy to kill me now.”

She drops her legs and sloshes her way towards me. She picks me up by the thighs, and I lock my legs around her waist.

“Oh, I could kill you.” She leans into my neck and bites the flesh, eliciting a moan from me.

“Liar,” I say.

“Narcissist.”

I laugh. She runs a finger along the bottom of my sports bra, the pads gently pressing into my skin. She pauses when I continue talking.

“The other part of me thinks I would have taught. I love academia, and I’d be happy lecturing in the guild training new recruits. But then I’d have to work for someone. I’m too independent for that. Perhaps my self-fulfilling prophecy was right after all. What about you?”

Scarlett looks up at the stars. The sky is inky black now, the crisp night air an exquisite shock against the warmth of the tub. I shiver, so she holds me tighter. Tangled together, we submerge our shoulders into the water. Staring at the sky reminds me of father, the observatories in the old palaces. We used to spend time there at night. The skies were usually clouded, of course, after The Tearing the Borderlands were usually freezing or full of storms. But on the odd night when the skies cleared, father and I would go to the observatory and try to spot constellations.

“There’s only one place I’d go if I weren’t an Assassin…”

She doesn’t finish the thought. At first, I’m annoyed. I’m sharing. Why isn’t she? But then I realise I already know the answer. “The track?”

She looks down at me. “I’d race all day, every day.”

“Maybe you can. Maybe you should.”

She shrugs at me. “Perhaps. But I wonder if I raced full-time whether that would steal the joy from it. Right now, I love it because it’s a treat, a reward, but if I had to turn it into a job, I’m not sure.”

We’re silent for a while. And my mind wanders to my father. I need to understand why she hates him. Why is she determined to kill him? But I’m frightened if I ask it will change everything. I like these moments. The spaces in between when I catch glimpses of the real Scarlett, not the one she presents to the world.

“I need to ask you something,” I say, a quiver beneath my words.

“Okay,” she says, drawing out the syllables. She sits me down on the ridge beneath the water and gives me some space.

“Before we go on this mission. I have to ask. Is it really about the map? Or is it about m—” I clear my throat, covering up what I was going to say. “I mean. Is it about killing the Border Lord?”

Scarlett stiffens. She edges closer. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.” The backs of my eyes sting, and I’m not sure if I can keep the tears down. I love my father. I cannot let her do this.

“It’s about both,” she sighs.

“Why do you hate him? Every time his name is brought up, I can see it. It changes your face. There’s a darkness or a shadow or something, but it passes through you and your whole demeanour changes.”

She doesn’t look at me. “I’m not supposed to…” her eyes scan mine, searching. Though what she’s hunting for, I don’t know. “I’m trusting you, okay?”

I nod, solemn.

“There was a mission years ago. A job for him that was surrounded by secrecy. A solo commission. He’d sought me out personally because I’d finished top at the academy.”

“Okay,” I say, scrunching up my face. I didn’t know father had ever commissioned an Assassin. I mean, his soldiers have killed defending the trade routes, but commissioning an Assassin is different.

“I can’t tell you the details, obviously.”

I chew my lip because the devil is always in the detail, and I want the specifics of exactly what my father asked her to do.

“Anyway, when it came down to it, I couldn’t go through with the job. Not properly. One wrong decision and it changed the course of my life and Stirling’s. I’m pretty sure that he is the one who set up my parents as a punishment for failing his mission. He’s the reason my parents are dead. The reason I lost my legacy.”

I suck in a sharp breath. It cuts its way down my throat and burns its way around my body. No. It can’t be true. He’d never be that cruel.

“Are you sure it was him?”

“In my gut and with my whole soul.”

I shake my head. I don’t want it to be true. And if that’s really what happened, I need the truth. Something awful quivers in my gut, my ribs tighten as my mind races through all the things my father has done, wondering whether it’s possible. Whether I’d misunderstood him all this time.

Scarlett lifts my chin. Her expression strained, a small furrow between her brows. She wipes a tear away from my cheeks with her thumb.

“Never thought I’d see you cry for me, Quinn.”

“How do you know it’s not for the Border Lord?” Because it is. In part. Maybe it’s for her too. Maybe it’s for me. The loss. The betrayal. Recognising my father might not be who I thought.

She scoffs. “Please. We both know they’re for me.”

She leans down, closer and closer, tilting her head. She’s going to kiss me. I’m sure of it. All my oxygen leaves. I can’t breathe. I want it and I don’t. This is dangerous ground. I’m supposed to be here to stop her, not to kiss her.

But what if what she’s saying is true?

That my father really set her parents up.

Her lips brush against mine. “I believe you won a bet…” she says.

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