Blood Diamond

by R. J. Blain

  Evelyn spat curses at the Alpha Fenerec.

  “Puppies.” Richard chuckled. “I thought I’d come along to keep an eye on things.”

  Derek’s face turned gray-green, and he slid his pistol back into his shoulder holster. “Would you please stop doing that?” he begged.

  “When you catch me before I startle you, I’ll stop,” the Fenerec promised. “I’m not the only one on board who can do that. Alex, you should know better.”

  Shaking out my wrist, I fought to catch my breath before muttering, “You’re not funny, Richard.”

  There was a feral edge to his grin. “If you don’t feel safe with three Fenerec protecting you, you have more issues than I can solve.”

  “I’m more worried about the three Fenerec,” I countered, stabbing his collarbone with my finger. “Two severe cases of testosterone poisoning is a serious reason for concern.”

  Evelyn fixed her glare on me. “What about me?”

  Turning to her, I captured her hand in mine, nipping her fingertips. “You are by far the most lovely and dangerous creature on board this ship.”

  “Two wolves, one chauvinistic male pig, and a lovely lady walk into a bar,” my brother said, joining us. “It’s the start of a very bad joke.”

  I squeezed Evelyn’s hand before letting her go. “Two wolves, a pig, an impossibly gorgeous lady, and a talking raccoon,” I corrected. “Do you need a split lip to go with your black eyes?”

  My twin grimaced. “No, thank you.”

  “I like the pig,” Evelyn stated, linking her arm with mine. “I also like bacon.”

  “First, I was a rabbit. Now I’m a pig. Can’t I be something a little more impressive? How about a lion or a tiger?”

  “Don’t want to be the big, bad wolf?” she teased.

  I pointed at Richard and Alex. “Those two are the wolves. A little variety, please,” I teased. “And anyway, I’ve been told many times I already suffer from excessive levels of testosterone poisoning. I don’t think we need to make it worse.” Most of the accusations leveled at me had been by Suzanne, usually before I went to take my car out for a spin. She hadn’t liked my car one bit, which had resulted in my selling it to keep the peace.

  I missed it; like my trashed watch, the 1971 Jaguar E-Type V12 had been a gift from my father, left in my driveway as a teen with a note and the keys.

  Evelyn scowled at me, pulling on my arm. “You hardly have testosterone poisoning.”

  “You may change your mind once you meet his mistress,” my brother warned.

  I winced. Mistress had been Suzanne’s name for the Jag, which she only had pulled out when particularly upset over one of my longer drives.

  “Mistress?” Evelyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “Him? Have a mistress? I don’t believe it.”

  My brother’s smile was predatory. “She’s a 1971 Jaguar—a horrific shade of green, if you must know.”

  I sighed. “I sold the Jag years ago, Elliot.”

  “I know. Richard snitched on you. Your wife couldn’t handle your love for it, or so I hear.”

  “Could we not discuss this?” I begged in a strained voice, glaring at Richard, who shrugged.

  “I will not discuss this with you, then,” my brother snapped, turning to the Fenerec. “Evelyn, it’s in my garage gathering dust. Please do something about it—and him, while you’re at it. He loved that car.”

  I tensed, staring at my brother. For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. “That’s not even possible. I sold it to someone in Chattahoochee. Some businessman wanted to give it to his son as a gift.”

  “You sold your car because of Suzanne?”

  I recoiled at the anger in Evelyn’s voice. Before I could escape, she tightened her grip on my arm. I felt the blood drain from my face as I tried to think of some way to explain myself. Floundering, I gawked at her.

  Tugging on my arm again, she waited in expectant silence.

  “He’s not used to someone yelling at him for the right reasons,” my brother added with a smug grin.

  I drew a deep breath, sighed, and said, “Yes, I sold the Jag because Suzanne hated it.”

  “He also quit drinking, smoking, as well as anything that might have even resembled a vice,” my brother reported.

  In that moment, I understood what a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car felt like. Impact was imminent, and I had no idea how to escape or if a strategic retreat was even possible.

  “I have it on good authority that he’s a gentleman when drunk, if you must know,” Evelyn said, loosening her grip on me. When I tried to pull free, she dug her fingers into my forearm. “So, you were saying something about this mistress being in your garage, Elliot?”

  “Indeed. That businessman happens to be one of my employees. I asked him and his kid for a favor. They were happy to play along, especially since the kid got to drive the Jag for a week before delivering it. Thus, the mistress is safe and sound, taking up valuable space in my garage, as she has been for the past six or so years.” My twin crossed his arms, arching a brow at me. “I’ll consider selling it for a reasonable price.”

  Evelyn abandoned me for my brother, bracing her hands on her hips. “How much?”

  “You have a perfectly good sports bike,” I muttered.

  “I didn’t ask you, Jackson,” Evelyn hissed.

  My brother cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have to think about the price, Miss Evelyn. What are you willing to pay?”

  I went to say something, only to have Richard clap his hand over my mouth, pulling me back against him. “Wise wolves remain quiet when their mates are upset.”

  Stomping her foot, Evelyn replied, “What do you want for it?”

  “It depends on if you’re willing to agree to a few conditions,” my brother replied.

  I tried to say something, but Richard’s hold on me tightened and he shifted his hand to pinch my nose closed. “Quiet,” he ordered.

  He didn’t let me breathe until I nodded my agreement.

  My brother’s expression was as serious as I’d ever seen him, and he stared down Evelyn without any sign of backing down. “He got that car when he was thirteen—before he could even drive. It didn’t run. It took him two years before he could get the engine started. He spent his free time rebuilding that beauty of a mistress, right up until Suzanne had enough of it and gave him an ultimatum. If you tell him he can’t have his mistress, he’ll sell her. If you tell him he can’t smoke, he’ll quit. That’s the kind of man he is. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

  To my shock and dismay, Evelyn lowered her eyes before turning to face me. “You let her do that to you?”

  When my brother reached out, placed his fingers under Evelyn’s chin, and pulled her around to face him, I was so tense I was ready to jump out of my skin. I fought Richard’s hold on me, but he kept me pinned.

  “You’re talking to me, ma’am,” my twin said in a tone so cold that it chilled my blood. “Yes, he did all of those things. Richard was the one who informed me that he was selling his car. I won’t sit idle and watch someone ruin him again. Am I understood?”

  “I understand.” Evelyn stared at the floor. I didn’t realize I was making a distressed noise in my throat until Richard pinched my nose again. “How much for the car?”

  “I’m not charging either one of you for it. Just make sure he keeps his mistress in his garage where she belongs.” My twin relaxed, exhaling long and slow. “Please be careful with him.”

  “Is all of that true, Richard?” she asked.

  Richard eased his hold on me and let me catch my breath. “It’s true,” he admitted. “The Jag was a gift from his father—a classic junker, perfect for a kid with a little too much time on his hands. I helped pick it out, and I may have made some arrangements for its delivery, seeing that the engine was dead at the time.” Letting go of me, Richard gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Since we’re discussing this anyway, I only have one thing left to say: Jackson, I’m going to make yo
ur eyes a match of your brother’s for even thinking of selling it.”

  Evelyn straightened and snarled, “You will do no such thing.”

  Holding his hands up in surrender, Richard took a single step back. “He’s off the hook for the moment.”

  I shook my head. “No, Evelyn. I deserve it.”

  Evelyn closed the distance between us, standing on her toes to look me in the eye. “You do not.” She stabbed my chest with a finger, hard enough I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “You absolutely do not.”

  With a faint smile, I kissed her on the tip of her nose. “He’s a man, so I get to hit him,” I declared.

  “That’s cheating!” she wailed.

  “You snoozed, sweetheart,” I replied. “That means you lose. Unfortunately for me, that also means I’ll end up with a pair of black eyes.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  Richard chuckled. “He’s safe for the moment, Evelyn. Don’t worry. I prefer my opponents in good health before I beat the snot out of them. Let’s get down below before the other guests report us as troublemakers.”

  “Good idea,” I muttered. Facing the cargo bay was a far kinder fate than giving Elliot, Richard, and Evelyn a chance to join forces, even if their scheming meant I got to have my Jaguar back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I regarded the doubled doors leading into the cargo bay with apprehension and disdain.

  “Maybe we should blindfold you,” my brother suggested.

  Glaring at him, I considered whether or not it was worth adding to his raccoon mask of bruises. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Liar,” the three Fenerec chorused.

  Evelyn slipped her hand into mine and squeezed.

  “I won’t like it, but I’ll be fine,” I snapped.

  “Don’t mind him,” my twin said, punching in the code to open the doors. “Earth witch sensors and dead bodies don’t get along very well. We already removed the corpses and cleaned everything up.”

  “Your lead, Anderson,” Richard said, shoving open one of the doors. “You know more about his issues than I do. That said, let’s leave him alone. We’ve had enough entertainment at his expense today. We can resume picking on him tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Richard,” I muttered, shaking my head. “It’s not my fault I’m a sensor.”

  I led the way to Brandon’s office, wincing when I reached the bottom of the stairs. Blood caked on the grated metal was the only evidence remaining of a man’s death. A flash of pain in his neck was all he had felt to my relief and dismay. I caught a glimpse of the Fenerec responsible, who wasn’t much smaller than Evelyn, reminding me of an oversized German shepherd. It had taken the wolf a single bite to break Michael’s neck. I stepped over the spot, shivering.

  Brandon’s office contained two more death imprints, also victims of snapped necks. Neither had seen their killer.

  “Looking better, Boss,” Brandon said, rising from his chair to circle his desk. He clasped my hand in a firm grip. “Nice army you have there.”

  “Want a few of them?” I asked, avoiding the chairs in favor of leaning against the wall. “So, you have succeeded in luring me down here. What can I do for you?”

  “I got to thinking about what happened, so I decided to have a look at the inventory from the cargo we picked up on Monday. I found a few interesting things I thought you’d want to have a look at,” he replied, returning to his desk and pulling out a jewelry box from one of his drawers. It was the kind typically reserved for rings. He opened it and set it on his desk.

  A red gemstone sat on white velvet, and it was burdened with the names of the dead. I backed up, bumping into Richard, unable to force myself to look away. The ghosts within it whispered to me, but when their chilly presence washed over me, my daughter’s warmth held them at bay.

  “That’s an ugly stone,” I choked out.

  Richard pulled me back, coming between the desk and me, breaking off my line of sight with the stone.

  “That is not the reaction I was expecting,” Brandon said, his tone baffled.

  “Shut the box,” Richard demanded.

  “Keep your pants on,” Brandon muttered. I didn’t relax until I the box snapped shut. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve had a bad experience with red stones on board so far,” my twin said, scooping up the box. “I’ll take this for the time being.”

  While I wanted to keep the Fenerec between the stone and me, I drew a deep breath, worked up every bit of courage I had, and stepped forward to snatch the box out of my brother’s hand. I shoved it in my pocket. “I’ll hold onto it for now.”

  “Are you insane? You’re insane. That’s the only reason I can think of that you would want to be anywhere near that thing.” Elliot made a grab for my pocket, and I stepped back out of his reach.

  “Probably. My cargo bay, my rock. Hands off, Elliot. I’ll explain later.” Until I could get my brother alone, I didn’t want to tell him about the deaths imprinted on the stone. With the box closed, I couldn’t feel anything from the stone at all. “What else did they have?”

  “Nothing as interesting as that,” Brandon replied, picking up a sheet of paper and holding it out to me. Taking it, I read over it, listening as he said, “Most of it is medical research supplies—things to build a really nice, state-of-the-art lab. What do you want me to do with it?”

  Making a thoughtful noise, I gave my brother the paper. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’ve lost your mind.” Sighing, he looked over the sheet. “I also think that someone spent a great deal of cash on this equipment. How much were you paid to haul this?”

  Brandon snorted. “None of your business, Your Eminence.”

  “Humor him,” I ordered, taking the page back. “I’d ballpark this at least several million in equipment, and that’s probably an underestimate. There’s equipment on this list I can’t even pronounce,” I grumbled, stabbing at the sheet with my finger. “That automatically makes them more expensive.”

  “A slick five hundred thousand,” Brandon replied, pulling out a slender binder and offering it to me. Tucking the inventory sheet under my arm, I took the bind and opened it. It contained a itemized list of more medical equipment. “Their insurance claim on it sits in at ten point three million for the entire load.”

  “How handy are you with a screwdriver, Brandon?” I asked, flipping through the sheets as I looked over the list.

  “What do you have in mind, Boss?”

  “Deliver it to the hire as planned, but let’s add some extras, on the house. Load it up with bugs and get some tracers mixed in. Bury the stuff in deep, but please don’t break any of it. If I bleed out ten million, I’m taking it out of your hide,” I replied, snapping the binder closed and tossing it back to him.

  “They’re not insured with us, Boss—there was no way in hell I was signing off on a ten million job without clearing it through you first.”

  I feigned shocked, widening my eyes and clapping a hand to my chest. “I’m amazed, Brandon. Absolutely amazed. Have you finally learned?”

  “Who taught him sarcasm?” Brandon complained. “He wasn’t like this last week. When I find out who did it, I’m kicking their ass. He was bad enough before.”

  “I think it’s cute,” Evelyn said, worming her way under my arm.

  Pleased at her approval, I leaned against her. “Listen to her.”

  “Get a room,” Brandon muttered. “So, bug and trace the cargo. Anything else you want, Boss?”

  “If you can dig out more on who hired us for the load without drawing attention to yourself doing it, do so,” I ordered.

  The red stone in my pocket was all the proof I needed that there was a solid connection between the equipment and my daughter’s death. If they were also connected to the killers of the Inquisitors in Oconee National Park, I wouldn’t be surprised. There was a very thin line between coincidence and connection.

  All I cared about was the identity of those re
sponsible for the pair of gems. The rest of their crimes were a secondary concern.

  “Consider it done, Boss.”

  “Anything else you need from me?”

  “What do you want me to do with the stuff if they don’t pick it up?”

  I grumbled at the thought of my quarry escaping me before I could get solid information on who they were and what they wanted with me. “Want it, Elliot?”

  “What am I going to do with ten million worth of medical research equipment?” my twin asked.

  “I don’t know. Sell it? Set up a new lab? I’m sure you can think of something.”

  “You’re the black market crook. You sell it.”

  Huffing at him, I shook my head. “I am not a crook, thank you very much.”

  “The boss is right. Crooks are low-life peddlers. He’s first class,” Brandon said, pointing at my brother. “Have some respect. He’s a very wealthy crook.”

  “Not helping, Brandon,” I grumbled.

  “Aw, don’t be a spoilsport, Boss.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s it. I just wanted to see how you were doing and force you to walk on that gimp leg of yours.”

  Running my hand through my hair, I gestured at his office. “I think you need a real office. Send me your wish list. You’re one of my best, and you could use something a little classier than a shipping box.” I nudged one of the folding metal chairs with my toe. “You’re going to end up a cripple if you keep using these things.”

  “Next week,” he replied in a tone that I translated to mean never.

  “Do you like this box?” I demanded.

  “There are many boxes, but this box is mine.”

  My twin laughed. “You’re as bad as Vicky.”

  “Oh?” I asked, turning my attention to my brother. He grinned at me.

  “She has this ratty little apartment in Atlanta she goes to whenever she needs some space. It’s worse than this, but she refuses to get something better. I swear on my honor that I speak the truth. It’s complete with a cardboard box serving as a table. She said the same exact thing to me when I offered to acquire her a proper table.”