Queen of Hearts

by Jami Denise

  “I still am,” she hissed. “Damn it, I wish you’d allow me to guide you a bit. You’re so damn stubborn.”

  I giggled. “I love you, Ellie. Trust me. Please. I won’t let anything happen. Vince watches me like a hawk—you know this.”

  Her eyes blazed. “He’s no damn good either. If he had any sense, he never would have let you become what you are. He had the ability to talk to you in a way no one else ever could. He could have helped.”

  It was back to that. “Trust me, Ellie. No one tells me what to do.”

  ~~***~~

  After an awkward lunch and a lot of lecture and disapproval from Ellie, I went back to my hotel to nap. I still hadn’t opened the envelope, hoping to avoid whatever it was Flynn wanted from me for a little while. I had a feeling he wanted to meet, and I wanted to be well rested. So, I slid into some lounge pants and a tank top, flipped on the music, and slipped off to sleep.

  The sound of a knock at my door woke me some hours later. I woke up foggy, and oddly, just as tired as I’d been when I’d fallen asleep. So much chaos in such a little frame of time had me all screwed up. I’d gotten used to a routine, and Vegas was not a routine town.

  I answered the door and rolled my eyes when I met the tense glare of Collins standing outside.

  “What is it now?”

  His lips tightened, and I just knew he wanted to tell me to go fuck myself. He knew better, and that made me smile.

  Jerk-off.

  “Vince asked me to deliver this to you.” He nodded his head, handed me the package, and walked away without another word.

  “Good riddance,” I muttered as I slammed the door.

  I strolled across the room, staring at the small white box in my hands. I sat in the middle of the bed and pulled the top off, dumping the contents in my lap.

  It was a key card. A key card for the Maguire, to be exact. I turned it over in my hands, eyeballing it for further clues. It was so damn irritating that every single man in my life was so dysfunctional when it came to communication. They were a pain in the ass.

  I reached over the side of the bed and grabbed my purse, and as I did, the envelope Ellie gave me earlier fell and tumbled to the floor.

  I reached further to grab it, figuring I may as well get all the mysteries out and into the open all at once. I had to play fucking Nancy Drew with both of them.

  Jesus.

  I pulled my phone out, pressed Vince’s number, and held it to my ear. While I waited for him to pick up, I slid my finger underneath the fold of the envelope and ripped it open, shaking the letter out and straightening it so I could read.

  The script wasn’t familiar, and it sent an ice-cold flash of fear through my veins.

  “Hello?”

  I blinked and shook my head when I heard his voice. I was in a trance looking down at the letter in my hands and had yet to read a word of it.

  “Oh, hey, it’s Jayne.”

  He chuckled. “No shit. Your name comes up when you call, smart one. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  I gave my head another shake to clear the confusion and concentrate on the conversation. “Yeah, um... Collins just brought me a box with a card. Did you send this?”

  “Yeah. Pack up, girl. You’re moving in to the Maguire.”

  Now that got my attention. “The hell I am! Is this Flynn’s doing?”

  He sighed on the other line, and I could tell he was getting aggravated with me. “It’s my doing. You don’t want to stay in a swanky hotel? Come on, now. You know you do.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I kind of do.”

  “Good. Pack up, baby. Room number is on the card.”

  It was an odd turn of circumstances, but I really did want to stay there. Not only was it beautiful, but it would give me more access to Flynn and Vince, and hopefully, more time to get answers to the burning questions I still needed answered.

  I pushed the phone to the side and stared at the letter. My first instinct had been to panic. Doyle was still out there somewhere. Flynn was being so blasé about the whole thing, but after all I’d gone through, I had to be cautious.

  My mind conjured up all kinds of scenarios. It could be an ambush, some elaborate setup. Or, it could be another one of Flynn’s schemes to get me alone.

  I hoped for the latter.

  Against my better judgment, I punched the address into the GPS on my phone and found that it was only about twenty minutes away from the hotel. I didn’t know anyone in that area, but I was going to chance it anyway. I jumped in the shower to freshen up after my nap and hurriedly got dressed before leaving the hotel to get to the bottom of the mysterious letter.

  It didn’t take long to get there with traffic being light that time of day. It didn’t hurt that I drove with a heavy foot and my new little silver Lexus drove like a lightning bolt.

  I took in the neighborhood as I pulled up to the address. It was a nice area—definitely one of the nicest in Las Vegas. The houses were expensive and well manicured, and the driveways were filled with exotic sports cars and extravagant SUVs.

  My nerves were frayed as I got out of the car and looked around some more, paranoid. That nagging feeling of being followed still hadn’t gone away, and since I was about to walk into the unknown, my guard was definitely up.

  Shaking it off, I walked up the drive toward the door. It was the middle of the day, after all, and there were plenty of people milling around within a scream’s distance. I took note of an older man with his weed whacker across the street, a couple walking a small, cotton-white dog a few feet down the sidewalk, and a telephone company technician working out of a van a few houses away. It was an average day in an average neighborhood. What could possibly go wrong?

  As I approached the house, I noted that it was very quiet. There was only one car out front, a maroon Cadillac. After staring at the door for more than ten minutes, contemplating my next move, I decided to grow some balls and ring the doorbell.

  I stood back, straightening my skirt, and waited for someone to answer.

  A few minutes passed and there was still no answer, so I rang it again and rapped on the door a couple times with my knuckles. The longer I stood there, the more nervous I became.

  Finally, just as I was ready to bolt, I heard footsteps and then the sound of locks unlocking.

  The door swung open, and a woman in her late fifties appeared, a shaggy tan dog squirming in her arms.

  “Ahh, the soiled dove. It’s about time you showed up.”

  I cocked my head, staring at her in shock. Who the fuck was this lady?

  “I’m sorry... do I know you?”

  She chuckled, a low, raspy sound from deep in her throat, and held the door a little wider. “Come inside. We need to talk.”

  She smiled, but it was anything but friendly. The way her lips crinkled as she pressed them together with contempt gave me a chill.

  I shifted on my heels and put a hand on my hip as I pointed at her angrily with the other.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, lady, or why you’ve brought me here just to insult me, but you have the wrong girl if you think I’m going to go inside without knowing who the fuck you are.”

  Her dog yipped sharply, and I blinked in surprise. I hated those damn little dogs.

  She started to bounce it a little, shushing it with a kindness that contradicted the glare she was giving me.

  “We have a common interest, darling. I believe we have a lot to talk about—regarding my husband.”

  I barked out a laugh in disbelief and threw my hands up.

  Unbelievable.

  “This is about me and your husband? Look, lady,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry if I fucked your husband, but you obviously know who I am and what I do. I don’t ask for resumes or marriage certificates when I entertain clients. That’s not my problem. I don’t go shopping around for these men—they come to me. He came to me. It’s not my fault your husband can’t keep it holstered!”

  The dog went on
a full-on barking rampage at my outburst, and thankfully, she put the damn thing down and shooed it off into the house.

  My blood was boiling, and my hands shook. The nerve of this lady hunting me down. Never, and I mean never, had I been approached by a John’s significant other, and I was beyond pissed. More than that, I was slightly freaked that she’d been able to find me, and through Ellie, no less.

  “Sweetheart, if you slept with my husband, we have bigger problems. My name is Cherese Maguire. Doyle Maguire is my estranged husband. I believe it’s my son you’re sleeping with.”

  I felt like I’d been cold-cocked in the face. My entire body felt warm, and I swayed a little on my feet.

  “What did you say?” I whispered in disbelief.

  “Come inside, Jayne. Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

  She cocked an eyebrow and swiftly walked away, leaving me standing in the open doorway, gawking at her like a fish out of water.

  I followed after her a few seconds later, numb and barely able to move my feet. My arms hung at my sides, and my head felt like it was floating above my body. My fingers tingled and pricked with panicked nerves. There was no telling what was going to happen inside that house. What that woman had to say could easily break me.

  She led me through the house toward the back. The rooms were bright, well lit and sunny, and when we reached a sitting room with a colorful atrium, she waved me inside.

  The room was pleasant and beautifully decorated with dainty hues of butter yellow and beige. She pointed to a khaki-colored sofa, and I took a seat, still quietly observing her every move.

  I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.

  She took a seat across from me, and her mangy dog took a running leap, landing in her lap.

  I tried to avoid her piercing stare. I took in the room instead, admiring the paintings and delicate antique furniture. At the very least, the room was calming, such a vivid contrast to the tensions between the two of us.

  I was nervous as hell. My hands continued to shake, so I settled them in my lap and clasped them together to hide the tremors. I didn’t need to give her the satisfaction of watching me freak out. She knew she had the upper hand as it was.

  It suddenly occurred me to that it would’ve been a hell of a lot easier had she been a woman scorned. Facing the elusive mother of Flynn was about as awkward as it could get. He didn’t talk about her a whole lot when we were together, but from what he did tell me, she was quite a woman, and he absolutely adored her. I wasn’t sure what to make of her. I didn’t scare easily, but the woman sitting across the room had me ready to pee my pants.

  “Don’t be so nervous, Jayne. I haven’t brought you here to do you any harm. Quite the opposite, actually.”

  My eyes shot up, and her eyes told me she was giving me the truth.

  “Why am I here?” I asked.

  “My son is in love with you.”

  My eye twitched as she said the words, and I quickly looked away from her. I wasn’t expecting that. When I looked up, she was petting her dog’s head gently and watching me with a careful, calculating eye.

  I bit down on the inside of my mouth to contain the words I wanted to spew out and looked away again. I felt like a kid in the principal’s office. I suddenly wanted to admit to crimes I hadn’t even committed just to get away from her and those eyes.

  “I’ll admit,” she started. “When he confessed that he was in love with a prostitute, I was less than pleased. I want better for him than this life. I always have.”

  Well, that was a punch in the gut that I could’ve done without. Her words stung, admittedly, but I couldn’t blame her for feeling the way she did. She was being truthful, which was more than I could say about her husband—or her son.

  “I don’t say these things to be cruel, but honestly, you and I both know you aren’t fit to be what he needs.”

  Hearing that didn’t dissolve the initial sting, either. Of course, his mother had every right to judge me in regard to her son. She also probably had no idea what a dirty, dirty son of a bitch he was.

  That was my little secret.

  “Ah,” I mused, sitting back and smiling as the little tidbit of personal knowledge swam around in my head. “So you still live in double-standard land. I get it—trust me.”

  I crossed my legs, folded my arms over my chest, and smiled, feeling Jayne claw herself to the surface to rear her ugly head. It was more than a shield for me, more than a disguise. It was my only ammunition.

  “Your son pays women—paid me to do filthy, unmentionable things, but I’m the problem? Women like you keep women like me in the business, lady. I’m a businesswoman first and foremost. I hold power you couldn’t even imagine having. I control my destiny. Me. I choose to fuck men for money. I give them only what I am willing to give, and nothing more. If the price isn’t right, I send them walking, wanting what they will never have. You think I should feel inferior to you because of who I am and what I do? Well, I don’t. Women like you get owned, Mrs. Maguire. I’m on the other side of that coin. I am the controller—no one else. So, no. I don’t feel less than you at all.”

  “Don’t you?” she asked, sitting forward and setting her dog on the floor.

  “No.” I answered adamantly. I’d spent a lot of time figuring my shit out. She had no idea.

  Her lips spread and she sat back, crossing her legs at the ankle, drumming her long manicured fingernails on her knee. I was completely confused by the bright smile that graced her features at that moment.

  “You’re nothing like what I expected. I’m impressed. I didn’t give my son enough credit, it seems.”

  I huffed and rolled my eyes. “Is there a point to all of this, or did you just bring me here to scare me away from Flynn? If so, that’s completely unnecessary.”

  She laughed, throwing her head back a little, and her entire body shook. “I don’t think it would do me any good to scare you off, Jayne. My son will do as he pleases. He always has. I wanted to meet you, to see if you were trustworthy. I want to help.”

  I cracked my fingers, popping each joint as I took in her words. It was a nasty habit, one I thought I’d long since gotten rid of. When I was little, I did it a lot when I was worried or afraid, especially after my mother died. I was suspicious of the woman in front of me, but too curious to ignore her.

  “Being obtuse and vague must run in the family. I don’t speak in riddles, Mrs. Maguire. What is it you want to help me with?”

  “Revenge. Vengeance.” She enunciated each word thoroughly, as if she wanted to make sure I understood just how serious she was.

  It rang through loud and clear.

  My curiosity spiked. “So he is alive.”

  She nodded. “Doyle? Yes. He’s still alive, and he won’t stop doing to others what he did to you and your family. He’s hiding, but he’ll come out eventually, even amid the current legal situation he’s found himself tangled up in. He’ll come out from under his rock. He’s too much of a greedy bastard to let his fortune be toyed with, especially not by Flynn.”

  Every hair on my head stood on end, and my entire body tensed. In the back of my mind, I’d always known he was alive, but with Flynn being so aloof about the whole thing, I thought possibly he was just dangling the possibility in front of me to keep me in check. I’d hoped he was dead—I wanted him dead. But nothing that evil ever went down that easily.

  “Why would you want to help me? What’s in this for you?”

  “I hate the bastard,” she seethed. “It’s a very long, very boring story, Jayne, but I need you to know that I mean to help you. Now that I’ve met you, and I’ve confirmed the kind of woman you really are, I want to make things right. Your father didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

  Bringing up my father hit that dark, secret place inside of me. I rubbed at my chest bone, the pain settling there like a burning anvil.

  “You know the whole story?” I asked, inching forward.

  She sighed. “Would
you like some tea, Jayne?”

  I shook my head, and then immediately nodded, changing my mind. “Actually, if you have something a little stronger, I’d appreciate it.”

  She stood, giving her hands a clap. “My kind of girl.”

  She walked into the other room, leaving me alone with my thoughts while she fetched our cocktails.

  I studied her when she walked back in the room. She had a beautiful profile and moved with the elegance of a ballerina. Refined—that was how she’d be described. She was lovely, and you could tell that at one time, she had been more than beautiful. You could tell that time and misery had done a number on her, though. There was a darkness to her features. Sadness. She had dark, wavy hair, which her son had inherited, and a lithe figure that showed the proof of careful maintenance.

  Aside of the dark hair, there wasn’t any other resemblance to Flynn. Her eyes were bright and cold, a searing ocean blue that mirrored the spirit inside of her.

  She set down a short crystal glass in front of me and began to pace, clicking the cubes inside of hers as she strode through the room.

  “Do you know a woman named Kristine Franklin?”

  I startled, surprised by the sound of her voice after the long silence. When I looked up, she turned to face me, tears streaking down her face.

  It was unsettling.

  I nodded. Kristine Franklin was a few years older than I was, and one of Vince’s top-earning girls. She’d been with him for years and somehow moved into my father’s bed not long after she’d taken up with Vince. It hadn’t lasted long, and I’d never heard what happened to her after that. It was as if she’d disappeared.

  It hadn’t mattered to me at the time. My father had a revolving headboard when it came to women. They were disposable, pawns and trinkets. I forced myself not to get attached to them while I was still young. Ellie was the first, and the last one I had any kind of relationship with.

  “Kristine is my husband’s mistress. His whore. She has been for many, many years.”

  I gasped. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Maguire. I don’t know what to say. I haven’t seen or heard of her in a very long time.”