The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  No more hiding behind a screen. At this point, I’m either all in, or I’m out.

  Chapter 9

  Kennedy

  By my count we have thirty-eight guests so far. I expect sixty, but four more cars pulled in a few minutes ago. A quick glance at the refreshments tells me ice water could use a refill, and the lemonade isn’t moving. I hustle across the back patio, careful not to look alarmed. It’s hardly an emergency.

  I pour a small amount of lemonade into a cup and take a sip. My mouth waters like I’ve bit into a lemon. I try to hide my reaction, hoping no one noticed. Vic forgot sugar again. She’s been distracted, always slipping off to her secret life. Where I’m drowning in family loyalty, my sister can’t wait to cut free. Guilt is all that keeps her grounded to us at this point.

  I heft the clear dispenser, smiling when a few guests shoot me a questioning look for stealing the lemonade. Vic rushes to my side, throwing daggers with her eyes.

  “What are you doing?”

  I shove the dispenser at her, happy to unload the weight. “Taste it. You’ll see. Fix it and bring it back.”

  Her jaw clenches hard, storms igniting in her eyes, but she doesn’t say a word before she spins on a heel and starts for the house.

  “Should have hired a caterer,” I say under my breath. From the way her feet stall for a second, I wager she heard me. I shouldn’t have said it. Vic does good work. Maybe I’m just jealous. She has a life outside the Cartwright name. I live and breathe this place. I have since mom died. Is it awful to want a few dreams of my own? It’s not a path I need to travel, not when we are supposed to be simultaneously thanking our vendors and employees, as well as encouraging them to stick it out another year.

  The appreciation party was mom’s idea to begin with. Back then we had a handful of folks helping us out. Granted, we weren’t fully booked like we are now. She suggested dad throw a party for his employees. He agreed and set a date for October, after the season calmed down. Mom changed it to June, the peak of our season. When he pushed her about it, she explained she’d rather thank them early and keep them happy, than thank the ones we had left at the end. From then on, the tradition stuck. Because of that mentality, thanking them early, we had very little turnover and a steady stream of people wanting to help out Cartwright Ranch. Mom would be so proud.

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  Normally, I’d enter the party and find an excuse to slip away. No one misses me. I’ve got it down to an art. I talk to a couple people, make an excuse to leave, slip off, do my work, and keep to the fringe when I return. By the time I ease back into the swing of it, they assume I never left.

  I know it’s not possible with Kennedy. When I disappeared at the reception, she not only asked around, but she sought me out. If I show up and disappear, even if I make it fast, she’ll notice. Because of her, my reconnaissance strategy has to shift.

  Zipping my leather jacket to hide away my white dress shirt, I duck under the fence line at the back of the property. I can’t help feeling like this should be Maddox’s role. That’s not an option right now. After visiting the crime scene, I stopped by the hospital. Rick didn’t oversell it. Maddox’s face was swollen almost to the point that I couldn’t recognize him. Sedation kept him from telling us anything. Doctors are worried about brain damage. Moments like these remind me that the dangers are real in my line of work, and even hiding behind a computer won’t always help.

  Sounds from the party hum on the wind. I swear I hear Kennedy’s sweet voice on the microphone, speaking, not singing. I might have stopped to listen if she was singing. There’s a buzz of laughter, and I yank open the barn door in the lapse of silence. Slipping into darkness, I roll the door shut again. A deep rumbling sound catches my attention. Fumbling for my phone, I flip on the light, swing it around and blind a startled horse in his stall. Apologizing, I drop the light from the poor creature’s eyes. A gold nameplate displays his name, “Harley”.

  It must be Victoria’s horse. I can’t imagine Kennedy mucking stalls or tossing hay. No precision in it. Too many variables. As if it senses my ill feelings, it lets out a high-pitched whinny. The sound bounced off the walls, almost splitting my eardrums it seems.

  “I’m going. I’m going.”

  I’m trying to reason with a horse. What’s wrong with me. I shove open a door at the back, hoping for better luck. Thankfully, I’m rewarded with the warehouse full of barn equipment. I shut out the horse, bent on my discovery, and pull out the notepad with the ranch’s supposed inventory.

  “Okay, Ace. Let’s see how good you really are.”

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  A quick glance at the clock tells me I’m an hour in and every guest is accounted for but one.

  Roman.

  He said he would come, and yet, I’m alone.

  This hot and cold dance he does is enough to drive a girl batty. I swear back in the cottage he was into me. There was even a moment in the grocery aisle where, I swear, he was into me, but not showing up after making a promise to be here, not even a call after a night like that… I don’t know what to think. Maybe it’s all been in my head.

  “He’s not here yet, huh?”

  I turn to find dad, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

  “Who?” I might as well play dumb for as long as possible.

  “Roman, Dale’s replacement. Your brother told me you invited him. I was looking forward to meeting the guy who divided your attention for the first time in your life.”

  I pin a frown on my face. “I’m not divided.” A thought occurs to me. “Wait, you haven’t met him? I assumed from that message you sent me that you’d met.”

  “Not yet. I heard through the grapevine that someone young had taken over Dale’s work. Still not sure where Dale’s gone. You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

  I smile and shake my head. “It’s anyone’s guess, I think.”

  His eyes narrow a bit, as if he knows that I know something more. “Tell me about this Roman fellow.”

  The first thing that pops into my head is Roman’s age. Knowing my traditional and overprotective father, that can’t be my starting point.

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  The warehouse checks out. Right down to the three augers against the wall, complete with labels and maintenance records taped to the wall above it. I suspect Kennedy’s work.

  Close as I can tell, Ace Cartwright is clean. Great for Kennedy, not for me. And if he’s not involved with Dark Fox and Dale’s activities, then the family is unaware of the danger surrounding them. That’s somehow worse. Naivety gets people killed.

  I start for the party, trying to think of an excuse if Kennedy asks me why I’m entering from the wrong direction. I let my eyes sweep over the acreage that makes up the ranch. In the distance, I spot the event barn where the reception was held, the cottage not far behind it. I’ve seen aerial shots of the property, so I know the expansive building to the south is the new auditorium they put in two years ago. That’s where they hold the Summer Series Concert Kennedy’s been working on.

  I spin, looking off toward the east end of the property. Another gray building sits at the base of a valley. It looks abandoned, dilapidated, wrong in a place as new and well-kept as the Cartwright Ranch.

  The party calls me, but I can’t help my curiosity. I steal down a side path, keeping to the trees and out of sight. If they have secrets to keep, that building would be the best option. No foot traffic, off the beaten trail, no one would ever think to look.

  I push back the door. It groans, but not loud enough to give up my position. I slip inside. Between the heat and the musty smell, the air chokes me. Voices catch my ear, overpowering my growing desire to escape the place. Staying low, I move down the entry hallway, sticking to the shadows. A bulky lighting apparatus blocks my way, but it’s easy enough to get around it. If I had to put a name to the building, I would wager it’s an old auditorium. My hands grate the walls. Cinderbloc
ks, from what I can tell. The voices start up again. I cling to the wall, pushing to the edge to peer around the corner.

  The main hallway curls around the center room. Only one way in or out. It’s an agent’s worst nightmare. Seats rise up from the stage, a sound room sits off to the side, and a single spotlight glows center stage. If I was hoping for criminal activity, I’m out of luck.

  Kennedy’s brother stands center spotlight, a teenage girl tight in his arms. Music swells over the speakers as he leads her through steps, I have to assume they’ve practiced. No one dances that well without rehearsal. I couldn’t dance that well with rehearsal. For a second, I watch, transfixed by the way they move. A simple waltz, easy rise and fall, a few lifts that he executes with ease. The kid has more game in his right pinky than I’ve had in my entire life. Maybe I should ask for a few pointers when it comes to his sister. He can’t be much more than eighteen. No, my mind corrects me, he’s seventeen. That’ s what she told me.

  I instantly go back three years ago, Sebastian and Brinley. My brother, his younger girlfriend, and the disaster he created. There’s something to be said for equally matched partners. The two teenagers on the stage show it, not only in their dancing, but the way they look together. I can’t help but wonder if I’m crazy to even consider trying with Kennedy. Or maybe she’s right. Maybe our age isn’t a problem. Intellectually, we’re a great match. Conversation never stalls. She challenges me in ways I’ve never experienced. Maybe being equally matched is about more than age.

  But what about my career? Once I close this case, I’ll be moving on to the next one. In another city, with new threats. It’s not fair to her to start something I can’t finish. Worse, what if I hang on, but she doesn’t. She sees me now, but absence makes the heart grow forgetful, isn’t that the saying? Can I stand a world where I’m not even a memory in her life? I know that feeling too well. Add long distance to our relationship, and could we last? Is our bond strong enough to make it through all the trials we’re facing?

  I back away from the performance on the stage, away from their simple love and easy choices. I shouldn’t stay, shouldn’t make an appearance at the party, but I gave my word, and despite everything, I can’t go back on that. With her father in the clear, and her family not complicit, seeing her one last time can be a reward for a job well done. One last time.

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  “Kennedy, great party. I can’t wait for the season to really get in full swing.”

  I smile at Booker, happy he made it. I do wish Roman were here so he could talk shop with him, but that’s starting to feel like a pipe dream.

  “I know. The concert series is going to be amazing. It’s the perfect way to kick off the summer.”

  “With you running it, that’s true.” Booker grins and snags two glasses of punch off a passing tray. He extends one to me. “I bet you have no idea how much we all feel the impact with you taking over the management around here.”

  I shrug because it’s not me, it’s the team. “I keep things going behind the scenes.”

  “Yeah, I know, greasing the wheels, same story you sell us every time, but not a single one of us would be where we are without Kennedy Cartwright. You’re the hidden gem in this family, and I really think you should start taking center stage with us more often.”

  “I don’t know, Hudson is doing a great job learning to emcee. I think I’m ready to pull back a little.” The kid lives for attention, like I’d ever take it away. “You know I belong in the wings.”

  Booker motions to Carly and Marco, the lead singers from Mega Compass. “We were talking a bit ago, and you came up. Not a single one of us has missed you singing under your breath, or backstage when you think you’re alone. Carly said she went looking for you two weeks ago and found you in the old auditorium, sweeping the stage, belting out Broadway tunes.”

  My throat tightens like the spotlight is shining on me, excited at the news but nervous for the attention. “I didn’t think anyone ever heard me.”

  “Heard you?” Booker laughs. “Kennedy, we’re dying to hear more from you. You’ve put us all top billing and helped us in ways we can’t ever repay. You can’t expect us to let you hide forever with that voice, can you? Why don’t you ever save a set for yourself? Two songs, three if they ask for it. Heck, I’ll play for you if you want. I doubt anyone knows what they’re missing with you backstage instead of dead center.”

  Blood rushes to my cheeks at the sound of his flattery. “I couldn’t ever do it if people were listening. My stage fright is—”

  “It’ll go away with practice.” Booker sets his hand to my shoulder, trying to catch my eyeline. “Your voice needs to be shared.”

  I stuff my feelings down because what he’s suggesting isn’t practical. “And if I’m center stage? Who is backstage running it? Who would remember to have your key lime seltzer water waiting for you at the optimum temperature?” I give him a warm smile to let him know it’s okay, I accepted this a long time ago. “But as for stars, I’m hoping you’ll be getting some good news soon enough.”

  His hand slides from my shoulder to my forearm, evidence of our comfortable friendship. “Oh, really? About what?”

  I give the crowd a once over, wishing Roman would materialize. “Well, I shouldn’t say anything, but that guy you saw me with at the wedding you played? He’s a producer from Santos Sound, and he’s taken a real interest in you. I was hoping he’d be here today, and you’d get a chance to network, but I haven’t seen him.”

  “I kinda remember him. Dark hair, average build. Your everyday business type guy, right?”

  “You’d remember him if you saw him.”

  “Maybe.” Booker looks over my shoulder, squinting. “Wait. That guy? In the leather jacket?”

  I spin to search him out. Coming up the trail from the old barn where Victoria keeps her horse, Harley, Roman strides with quick steps, slowly unzipping his jacket. I’m elated to see him, but at the same time, confused. Why would he be coming up from the old barn?

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  Not only am I caught in the first ten seconds, but she’s also standing way too close to some Rockstar wannabe. It’s all but impossible to smother my jealousy.

  The questions about my absence and sudden appearance are written all over her face. My mind reels through every lie that might work in this sort of situation, but I’m having a hard time ignoring that guy’s hand on her arm, whispering something in her ear while she laughs softly at something. That something might be me. Whatever spell I had her in, it’s likely fading.

  “Roman,” her face still holds the traces of the laughter as I approach, “I’m so glad you made it.”

  I can’t help but wonder if that’s something she says to everyone.

  “Yes, sorry I was late.” I should explain why, but I’m hoping she’ll let it go. I should know better.

  “You’re coming up the wrong path,” her companion says to me. I recognize Booker from the times I’ve seen him play. I had no idea they were such great friends. Possibly more than friends by the looks of it. “Did you walk here from Santos Sound?”

  “Car trouble. I left it with a mechanic and walked the rest of the way.” The ease with which I lie used to alarm me, but my jealousy makes it easier. It’s not hard to see that Booker is about her age, and clearly interested. His fingers tangle into Kennedy’s, grabbing her attention. I look away while he whispers something in her ear, then bids me a quick goodbye.

  She watches him leave, a dazed look on her face like he’s given her a reason to keep on living in this dreary world. When she looks back at me, I can’t help searching her expression to see if any of her attention has waned. Last I saw her, we sparked.

  She takes a step toward me, eyes bright and glittering in the evening glow. “I really am glad you made it. You could have called; I would have picked you up.”

  “You can’t leave an event. The whole place would come to a crashing halt.” I
t feels good to tease her, to seek out that slight intimacy we had from before.

  But my words do the opposite of what I planned. Instead of helping her see how important she is, how great she is at her job, they seem to upset her.

  “Yes, I guess it would.” She smiles, but it has none of her usual shine. “Excuse me, I need to check on the food.”

  “Kennedy.” I don’t know what makes me call after her, let alone follow on her heel, but I can’t help myself. If I said something wrong, I can’t leave it alone. I catch her arm, halting her footsteps. “I’m sorry if that was wrong, or if I interrupted your date.”

  “My date?” Her eyes widen at the thought. “Booker? We’re not dating.”

  Air rushes from my lungs, dragging all rational thought alongside it. “I just thought, I don’t know what I thought.” I swallow hard, trying to remember that I’m a federal agent, and I shouldn’t get this flustered. “I know I didn’t like what I thought.”

  A smirk teases at her lips. “Are you saying you were jealous?”

  Words won’t form. I’ve still got both her arms in my grip, hoping she won’t leave. I’m sure my eyes are pleading with her to rescue me. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t talk to beautiful women. I hide behind a computer screen and let other guys go save the world. This isn’t like me to fight for someone, but I can’t stop myself. She’s different than the rest.

  “Kenny,” the booming voice isn’t familiar to me, “introduce us.”

  Like a cop on a back road, Ace Cartwright materialized out of nowhere. From the way he’s looking at me, I gather he’s not happy about how I’m holding his daughter.

  I release my grip on her, taking a half step back. Kennedy flashes me a smile, but it’s tight and hurried.