Queen of Diamonds (Aces & Eights Book 4)

by Sandra Owens

  Queen of Diamonds

  Aces & Eights Series, Book 4

  Sandra Owens

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Also by Sandra Owens

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  What’s Next…

  Acknowledgments

  About Sandra . . .

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2018 Sandra Owens All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Sandra Owens

  Print: ISBN-13: 978-0-9997864-2-0

  e-Book: 978-0-9997864-3-7

  * * *

  Cover design & Interior Formatting by:

  The Killion Group, Inc.

  Edits by: Melody Guy and Ella Sheridan

  Printed in the United States of America

  To all the Aces & Eights fans who patiently (and not so patiently) waited for Kinsey’s story.

  To sign up for Sandra’s Newsletter go to:

  * * *

  https://bit.ly/2FVUPKS

  Also by Sandra Owens

  ~ Aces & Eights Series ~

  Jack of Hearts

  King of Clubs

  Ace of Spades

  ~ K2 Team Series ~

  Crazy for Her

  Someone Like Her

  Falling for Her

  Lost in Her

  Only Her

  ~ Regency Books ~

  The Dukes Obsession

  The Training of a Marquess

  The Letter

  1

  Kinsey Landon fingered the much read letter from her mother, and although she knew it by heart, she read it again.

  * * *

  My darling Kinsey,

  * * *

  If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. Please don’t cry too much, sweetheart. I’ve been blessed to have you in my life, and having you has kept me sane.

  You see, I had three sons who were taken from me, and my heart has cried each day from missing them. Without you in my life, I don’t know how I would have gone on.

  I know I should have told you about your brothers, and I planned to, but I kept putting it off, unsure of how to explain walking away from my sons. You see, I left them for you.

  The first time you asked about your father, I told you his name was John Landon and that he was dead. That was a lie, sweetheart. Maybe he’s dead by now, I don’t know, but your father’s name was Gordon Gentry. He was not a nice man, Kinsey, but I would have stayed with him for my sons.

  When he learned I was pregnant with you, he refused to believe he was your father. Of course he was! I don’t know when he thought I’d had the time or opportunity to have an affair, as he controlled every minute of my life. He demanded I get rid of you, and when I refused, he tried to beat you out of my stomach. I knew then that to protect you, I had to leave.

  It was the hardest decision of my life, leaving my boys with that man, but if I’d tried to take them, he would have hunted us down. My heart is still broken because I didn’t have the courage or means to defy him.

  But there was a life inside me. You. I had no choice but to protect you, my sweet girl. Fortunately, a man your father sometimes hired to do odd jobs took pity on me and helped me escape by driving me to the bus station. I will always owe him for that act of kindness because he helped me save you.

  I had to believe that I had instilled in my sons honor and a love of learning so they would grow to be men I would be proud of. If you are asking where they are today, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that their names are Alex, Court, and Nate Gentry, and that the last time I saw them, they were living in Ocala, Florida.

  From the moment I knew you were in my belly, I have loved you, Kinsey. Please forgive me for not being honest with you before now.

  You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, and I’m so very proud of you, daughter. If you should decide to find your brothers, please tell them why I left. Tell them that I never stopped loving them.

  I only ask one thing of you, Kinsey. Be happy. I love you through eternity.

  Mom.

  * * *

  Kinsey had found her mother’s letter a year ago, only hours after Wanda Landon’s funeral. Until that day Kinsey had thought she knew who she was. She’d believed she was the only beloved child of Wanda Landon, and that her father, John Landon, had died before she was a year old.

  Now she knew the truth and the real reason she’d never been able to picture her father in her mind. It was impossible to have memories of a man who’d never existed. Yet she had imagined him, not so much his appearance but how he would have held her when she was a baby, how he would have looked down at his daughter with love in his eyes when she was cuddled in his arms. Sometimes she could almost remember him singing lullabies to her as she fell asleep.

  Turned out that she only had those faint pictures in her mind because those were the things her mother had told her when she’d asked questions about him. She supposed that her mother had meant well when she created a fictional father for Kinsey, wanting her daughter to believe she had been loved and wanted by him. And wasn’t that as far from the truth as possible?

  All these years she’d mourned a father who never was, had always been sad that he hadn’t lived to see his daughter grow up. She loved her mother dearly, missed her terribly, but she was having trouble forgiving her for the lies.

  She folded the letter that had snatched the ground out from under her feet and put it back into the worn envelope. All her life, she’d thought she was Kinsey Landon, and that had been another lie. Should she change her last name?

  “Kinsey Gentry,” she said, testing the sound of it. Nope, it didn’t feel like her. Although she didn’t know who she was anymore. When her mother died, Kinsey had been left alone in the world, or so she’d thought until finding her mother’s letter. After thinking long and hard, she’d made the decision to finish her last year of school before doing anything. Maybe it was her way of sticking her head in the sand, but she was still grieving her mother’s death and was carrying a full class load while working part-time. There was no room on her schedule for looking for a family she hadn’t known she had and wasn’t sure she wanted.

  But as soon as she’d graduated, her moratorium on doing nothing had ended. She was out of excuses, and it was either burn the letter and forget she’d ever read it, or find the Gentry brothers. It was still impossible to think of herself as their sister. All she wanted to do was see them, and then she could get on with her life.

  After spending months searching for her brothers, she’d finally found their names on a business license for a biker bar in Miami called Aces & Eights, and that had ended her hope that they were men she’d want to know.

  Still, she couldn’t resist checking them out. They’d never know she was there. But she needed someone big and strong to go with her, and she knew just who to ask.

  “I need you to go with me t
o Aces and Eights. It’s a biker bar.”

  “Huh?”

  Kinsey lowered her menu, peering over the top at her friend. “I said, I need you to go—”

  “I heard what you said.” Aiden Calloway’s eyebrows scrunched together. “I’m just trying to figure out why you said it.”

  “It’s a long story.” Aiden was one of her best friends. He’d been one of the University of Miami’s star football players whose failing grades were going to get him kicked off the team in their freshman year if he didn’t improve them. He’d hired her to tutor him, and they’d hit it off.

  He was a good-looking guy, a ginger with gorgeous green eyes that women sighed over. Although not a top draft pick, he’d been signed by the Miami Dolphins, and she couldn’t have been happier for him. He was also a big man, all muscle, and exactly what she needed for protection when she went to her brothers’ bar. She couldn’t imagine anyone daring to mess with him.

  The waitress came to their table, and Kinsey ordered coffee, scrambled eggs, and wheat toast. Aiden went for the hungry man’s breakfast with extra bacon.

  “Jeez, Aiden, clogged arteries much?” she said after the waitress left.

  “Growing boy here.” He leaned back against the booth, spreading his arms along the top. “Okay, let’s hear your long story.”

  “Read this,” she said, handing Aiden her mother’s letter. As she watched his eyes scan the pages, she wondered why there had never been a sexual attraction between them. Oh, he had flirted outrageously when she’d first started tutoring him, but she’d quickly figured out that flirting was a part of his DNA. It hadn’t taken long, though, for them to settle into a friendship, and he now saw her as an adopted sister that he had to watch over. Which was ridiculous, as she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  “Wow,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers. “Are you going to try to find them?”

  “I already have. They’re owners of a biker bar here in Miami.” At his raised eyebrows, she sighed. “Yeah, I know. Probably not the kind of men I want in my life, but I need to satisfy my curiosity.”

  “How long have you had this?” He waved the letter in front of her.

  “A year.” She reached over and snatched it away.

  “And you’re just now getting around to telling me?”

  She’d known that was coming. It was the first time she’d shared the contents of the letter with anyone. The waitress delivered their breakfast, and she waited for the woman to leave before answering.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to eat all that,” she said, eyeing the pile of food in front of him.

  He pointed his fork at her. “Stop evading my question. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I needed time to let it sink in and decide what I was going to do. But that’s not the important thing. What are you doing Friday night?”

  “Going to a biker bar?”

  2

  Rand Stevens stood at the bar, contemplating his life and how he’d come to be the pretend owner of a biker bar. For a man who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, who didn’t drink, and who thought motorcycles were as dangerous as swimming in shark-infested waters, Aces & Eights was so far out of his element that it was laughable.

  It was quiet, but it was still early. He glanced at his watch. Soon the bikers would start arriving, and a few hours after that the place would be packed, the music would be too loud, and the beer would be flowing.

  The Gentry brothers actually owned Aces & Eights and had worked undercover from the bar for several years, but Nate Gentry was now special agent in charge of the Miami field office, Court Gentry was their new special agent in charge of intelligence, and their baby brother, Alex, was supervising undercover operations. Unlike Rand, the brothers had fit right in at Aces & Eights.

  The low rumbles of motorcycles sounded. “And the games begin,” he muttered.

  “You say something, dude?”

  Rand glanced at his partner, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Just thinking out loud. And I’m not your dude, dude.” Josh Sheridan, his fellow FBI special agent, loved every minute of their undercover assignment. The kid was like a happy puppy nipping at his heels. Annoying but amusing.

  Josh laughed. “Stop being so grumpy, old man.”

  Rand often felt grumpy and eons older than his twenty-nine years. The job did that, jaded you and aged you. Josh would learn that soon enough, and because Rand remembered how eager and enthusiastic he’d once been, he felt a pang that he’d lost his joy. And the truth of it was, he couldn’t blame that loss on this undercover assignment or even the FBI. But, as he always did when he thought of his daughter, he slammed the lid down on that particular box.

  “I’m not grumpy,” he grumped.

  Josh snorted. “Dude, you so are.”

  Dude was Josh’s new favorite word, one he’d picked up from the Gentrys, and Rand wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive the brothers for that. He eyed his fellow agent. Josh had also taken to dressing like the bikers with unholy glee. Decked out in a skintight black Harley-Davidson logoed T-shirt, torn-at-the-knees jeans, heavy motorcycle boots, and chains hanging out of his pockets, he was indiscernible from every other man in the bar, except he smelled better than most.

  Proper dress had been ingrained in Rand from childhood. His pressed jeans and ironed T-shirt—that was not skintight—were what the weekend bikers wore. The Harley-riding doctors, lawyers, and CEOs. But whatever. The bikers had taken to Josh as one of the new owners of Aces & Eights from day one, but they didn’t know what to make of Rand.

  Strangely, that was working to their advantage. The bikers tended to behave when he was around, even watching their language. He wasn’t sure what that said about him. Did they think he was a badass like the Gentrys? Rand snorted. Doubtful. However, they were starting to trust Josh enough that they weren’t guarding their conversation around him. That left Rand to manage the bar and the customers, while Josh busied himself with ferreting out their secrets.

  Rumors were surfacing that the Hot Shots, one of the regular clubs that frequented Aces & Eights, were dealing in guns. “You pick up on any more talk about those weapons?” he asked Josh.

  “Nothing more than what I’ve heard so far, but the Hot Shots are here tonight. They’re loosening up around me, letting things slip.”

  “We can bring Nate up to speed in our meeting tomorrow, see how he wants us to handle this. Just be careful around them.”

  “Dude, I’m Superspy. They don’t suspect a thing.”

  Rand shook his head, grinning at the kid.

  The door opened and a couple walked in, catching Rand’s attention. After stepping inside, they came to a stop, taking in their surroundings. They weren’t bikers; that was obvious. Nor were they the kind of people who frequented Aces & Eights. In fact, Rand recognized the man, having seen his picture on the sports segment of his local news. Aiden Calloway, a University of Miami linebacker recently drafted by the Miami Dolphins. What the devil was he doing here?

  Rand’s gaze shifted to the woman, and his heart tripped over itself. She was beautiful with her long black hair and smoky brown eyes. Bedroom eyes, he thought. She was a few inches taller than the average woman, curved in all the right places, and when her gaze landed on him and held, his breath hitched.

  Josh whistled. “Nice.”

  Rand glanced at his fellow agent to see appreciation in his eyes as he looked at the woman. For the first time the kid didn’t amuse him. “She’s obviously taken.” That had come out harsher than he’d intended, considering the puzzled look Josh gave him.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire a beautiful woman,” Josh said, then wandered away.

  No, it didn’t, and whoever she was, she was the first woman to catch Rand’s interest since Olivia. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out Zoe’s necklace, the one he’d never had a chance to give her. He stared at the dainty heart with a sapphire gem—her birthday stone—for a moment, then droppe
d it back into his pocket and turned his back on the woman with the beautiful brown eyes.

  His grief was too deep, his heart too dead to do more than manage a day-to-day existence. There was nothing left of him to give any woman. That he’d even noticed the one who’d walked through the door might be an anomaly, but it didn’t change anything.

  He caught sight of a biker with a badass reputation looming over Spider and sighed as he headed that way. “Snake, if you don’t stop picking on Spider, you’re gonna be out the door.” Christ, these bikers and their stupid names.

  Spider grinned like an idiot. “Aw, he’s just playing, boss man. Ain’t ya, Snake?”

  “Sure, dude.”

  Snake drifted away, and Rand put his hand on Spider’s shoulder. The little man loved all the bikers and just couldn’t comprehend that his affection wasn’t returned. Mostly it was, but not from the president of the Hot Shots. And Snake was as mean as they came.

  “That one’s not someone you want to mess with, Spider. So do me a favor and stay out of his way. Okay?”

  “’Kay. But he don’t really mean it, boss man. He just likes people to think he’s badass.”

  It was impossible not to like Spider. With a few exceptions like Snake, the bikers had adopted Spider as their mascot. Somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties, Spider was the most naive and had the kindest heart of anyone Rand had ever met. Barely topping out at five-six, as bald as a billiard ball, and as scrawny as a toothpick, the man was a permanent fixture at Aces & Eights.

  One of the things Rand liked best about him was that he didn’t belong to any of the clubs. Spider was just a funny, likable little man who the Gentry brothers had instructed Rand to look out for. Since stepping through the doors of Aces & Eights, Rand had kept Spider in his line of sight but had only had to rescue him for the first time tonight. Damn Snake to hell.