The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  “Not yet.” He pulls the door back and motions inside. “But lucky for you, Dad’s off with Vic, so no one’s gonna chase you off with a rifle.”

  She’s got interesting siblings, that’s for sure.

  “Great. I guess that’s good news. You’re not planning a third degree or anything?”

  “Nah,” Hudson crosses his arms over his chest, “she doesn’t get out much. It’s nice when someone can take her off my hands.” He takes a step closer and sniffs my shirt. “No cologne?”

  I can’t say another guy has ever sniffed me before. Caught off guard doesn’t begin to cover my shock.

  “No, I was in a hurry.”

  Hudson frowns, but puts up a finger. “Come on, I can’t let you screw this up. You’ve got enough working against you.”

  I glance up the stairway because that’s where Kennedy ran down before, but there’s no sign of her. Wanting to make a good impression on at least one member of her family, I follow Hudson through a door.

  His bedroom is bigger than half my apartment. I doubt he has any idea how spoiled he is. On the back wall he’s mounted, what I’d guess is, a sixty-inch flat screen. I know his bed is bigger than my single. Jealous feelings creep into my chest, but I’m quick to stomp them out. Chances are he’d trade it all to grow up with a mom like I have.

  “Okay, I’ve got musky, woodsy, oriental, clean, and spicy. Pretty much anything you could want. What’s your poison?”

  He’s not kidding. His dresser is lined with more cologne bottles than I’ve owned in my life.

  “I have no idea.” I throw myself at his mercy. “Do you know what she likes?”

  “You’ve really got a thing for her, don’t you?”

  I hate admitting it to him before I say anything to her, but it’s the truth. “She’s amazing.”

  Hudson grins and reaches in the back. “She always wants me to wear this one, and I never do.”

  Like a crop duster over a field, he attacks me with a cloud of cologne until my lungs seize, and I feel like I might puke.

  “Okay, okay,” I throw up my hands, “I surrender.”

  “Where are you taking her?” Hudson asks as I cough and struggle for air. “Little overdressed for dinner and a movie, aren’t you?”

  I clear my throat one last time. “It’s a fundraiser being thrown by my company.” I unbutton my jacket and flap the sides forward and back to air out the fabric. Last thing I want is to drown her in this scent.

  “It’ll fade fast,” Hudson says, “I mean, this one time I—”

  He stops mid-sentence. I pause to look at him. His eyes are round and wide, staring at me as if I’m his worst nightmare. It’s only then that I realize my mistake.

  “You’re packing heat?” His voice tips up on the end like he’s about to become hysterical.

  “You can never be too careful,” I say, buttoning my jacket once more. “I have a conceal and carry license.”

  “But why are you taking a gun on a date with my sister?”

  “I’m not some psychopathic murderer.”

  “You know who says that?” Hudson asks. “Psychopathic murderers.”

  He’s got me on the ropes. How did a seventeen-year-old take me down with a bottle of cologne? Normally, I have a plan, an excuse, something, but I’m coming up empty.

  “I’m deep in this music business, right?” I wait for him to nod. I spin the lies as they come. “That means, I know who the players are. Tonight, there are some unsavory characters coming to this event. The last thing I want is for your sister to get hurt. I’m packing, as you put it, to be ready for the worst.”

  His jaw shifts side to side as he thinks about it. I don’t blame him. That was terrible.

  “Sure you aren’t a spy or an undercover cop or something? That’s a lot more believable at this point.”

  “I’m a good guy,” I say, hoping it’s enough.

  “Hudsie!” Kennedy calls from the top of the stairs. “Have you seen any sign of Roman yet?”

  Hudson presses his lips together until they turn white. He could destroy my chances with her if he wanted, blow my whole cover in an instant. I hold my breath waiting on his verdict. Finally, he yells, “I think he just pulled up.”

  I exhale my relief, but Hudson takes a step closer and narrows his eyes. “I may be a kid, but if anything happens to her, I swear no one will find your body.”

  Kid or not, he could have a future in the FBI with stones like that.

  “Got it.”

  I follow him out. He pulls open the door and shuts it again. “Kennedy, your date’s here!”

  “Coming!” Her voice nears, and I turn to watch her descent.

  Black heels come into view first, spiked, tall, to the point that I wonder if she’s self-conscious about her height. Her sister is at least five inches taller than her, Hudson, even more so, but the heels give her an even playing field. She kicks the skirt to her dress out as she walks down. The slinky material clings to her frame in a way that makes my mouth water. The black glittering fabric sets off her eyes, deepens the tan of her skin, and enhances the red tint to her dark hair that trails over her shoulders.

  “Wow, wow, wow, wow,” I can’t stop myself from repeating it under my breath, “wow, wow, wow.”

  “I think you already said that,” Hudson tells me.

  “Not enough,” I say, because if I repeated it the rest of my life, it’d never be enough. I reach for her hand, and she gives it easily. “You’re, I don’t even have words, Kennedy.”

  “Don’t wait up,” she says to Hudson. “And make dad eat something healthy and go to sleep early.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He salutes but gives me one last hard glare before I escort Kennedy from the house. I get the feeling he knows something is up. I’m on thin ice with that one.

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  The hour drive should have tested our conversational skills, but we talked easily like old friends. I’m almost disappointed when he pulls into the parking garage and hurries to my side to open my door. I’d be happy to spend the rest of the evening in his car shooting the breeze, but I suppose I agreed to be his arm candy for the night instead.

  He takes my hand to help me out of the car, for which I’m grateful because moving in a mermaid style dress is no easy feat. But the way he won’t look away has me happy with my choice. I don’t suppose I look young in this dress. For once, the looming age gap doesn’t appear to bother him. Once I’m on my feet, Roman offers his arm, and mine loops through as if a perfect fit.

  Other happy couples enter the building with us. Cheerful conversation filters from the open ballroom doors. To my surprise, I know quite a few people. Not well, not the type where I’d wave and make small talk, but the kind I’ve crossed paths with in my work. Roman pauses at the door to hand in our invitations before we step inside.

  The ballroom is barely lit, basically relying on the lighting on the stage where musicians are setting up. Neon green and white glow from a bar set up on the far side. Cocktail tables dot the room, perfect for Roman’s dreaded mingling. We move through the groups of people. I smile at the ones I know, acts I had at the ranch, singers from The Nightingale. It’s good to see Santos Sound might actually make good on a few deals and at least promote a few talented people.

  “Stay close to me, okay?” Roman asks in a tone low enough that it’s meant for me.

  “You have something to prove? No one thought you could get a date?” I tease, but he’s not willing to play along. If I had to label the expression on his face, I’d say it’s fear, or at least tension.

  “Shall we get a drink?” Without waiting, Roman starts to lead me toward the bar on the far side of the room. Before we can arrive, a hand catches my arm.

  “Kennedy?”

  I spin, breaking my grip with Roman. I recognize him in an instant. Pedro Marquez, the manager at Nightingale.

  “Pedro! Fancy meeting you here.” I turn back to Roman, but he’s moved on to the bar, his
rule of staying together quickly forgotten. Annoyance flashes inside me. I’d hoped we would avoid his hot and cold game tonight, but it feels like that might be unavoidable.

  “Are you here alone?” Pedro asks. He leans and peers into the space around me. “I thought I saw someone—”

  “My date is around here somewhere,” I say, frustrated that I have to cover for his rude behavior.

  “Are you singing tonight?”

  My eyes widen. “No, not at all. Why would you think that?”

  “Figured it was about time. We know you have it in you. Everyone talks about you at the club. You’re the hidden gem of our area. What’s that old saying? Always the bridesmaid, never the bride?” Pedro nudges me with his elbow. “One of these days I’ll have to drag you up on stage at Nightingale.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh really? What will you do when I don’t cut it?”

  “Tell the haters how foolish they are.” Pedro leans forward and kisses my cheek, breath faintly stained by alcohol. “I’ll let you get back to it, enjoy your night, gorgeous.”

  “You too.” I watch him walk away, curious if he brought a date as well, but he vanishes into the crowd too quickly.

  I search for Roman as well, but he’s nowhere in sight. A bit defeated, I take a seat at the bar and wait like a good lap dog.

  “Sorry, I slipped off,” Roman whispers from behind me. “Work matters called me away.”

  I spin on my stool, determined to let him have it, but between the apology in his eyes, and the careful cut of his tux, I forget to be angry.

  “Roman!” I search in the dim light and spot a man headed toward us, calling to my date. He stands just an inch shorter than Roman, hair cut short to disguise his balding head, wrinkles around his eyes. His wife looks to be similar in age, but her dress is cut for someone far younger. I have to look away to avoid feeling embarrassed on her behalf.

  Roman squeezes my hand as if to tell me to brace myself. “Rick,” he says, “I’d like you to meet Kennedy Cartwright. Kennedy, this is my boss, Rick Henderson.”

  His boss reaches out for my hands and gives them a squeeze. “Pleasure to meet you, Kennedy. Your family is a bit of a legend in this area, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t know about a legend, but yes, we’ve been afforded some success from our hard work.” I don’t like the way he said that, as if we were handed the ranch on a silver platter. We’ve worked hard to get where we are, and certainly there have been hard times.

  “This is my wife, Inga.” Rick motions to the woman beside him. “Am I mistaken, or were you talking to Pedro Marquez a moment ago?”

  “Yes, I was. He’s an acquaintance of mine.” I wouldn’t call Pedro a friend. We’ve only spoken for the most part at the club, then last year at the Summer Concert Series. While he’s a perfectly decent soul to deal with, we’ve never crossed paths socially, let alone romantically. My instincts tell me that’s what Rick is getting after. Is he worried I’m stepping out on Roman?

  “How do you know him?” Rick asks. I can’t help but feel like he’s interrogating me, waiting for me to wither and confess a torrid love affair Roman doesn’t know about.

  Patience waning, I answer, “He manages The Nightingale. It’s a local club with open mic nights. I scout talent there for our events at the ranch.”

  “What a fun job,” Rick says, but it doesn’t feel entirely genuine.

  “It is a fun job.” I feel the need to defend myself and glance at Roman to ask why he’s not stopping this brute from rolling over the top of me. But Rick takes Roman’s arm before I can catch his attention.

  “Roman, do you mind if I borrow you a moment, leave the ladies to chat perhaps?”

  My date shoots me a worried look, but I relent. His boss is a bit of a beast, and I’m not looking forward to speaking with his wife, but if it’ll get him out of our hair for the night, I’m all for it.

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  I wait until we’re out of earshot before I lay into my superior.

  “Has no one ever taught you covert tactics? Or even general manners? That was an interrogation,” I tack on “sir” at the end like an afterthought.

  “Pedro Marquez is high in the ranks of the Dark Fox organization.” Rick looks away. “Did you see her talking with him like old friends?”

  “Of course, I did. I had to duck out like a jerk so he wouldn’t recognize me. Forrest the Health Inspector has no reason to be here dating a friend of his.”

  “And this friendship she has with a ranking member of Dark Fox, that didn’t have you the least bit curious about this girl you’re dating?”

  “She’s clean,” I say without removing the razors from my voice.

  He waits, staring me down, measuring my worth, before he finally says, “I agree. We have intel that Dante isn’t coming. The new plan is to pull in Pedro, try to flip him instead.”

  “You don’t have anything on him, do you?”

  “Petty crimes for now. I’m hopeful that something will turn up in the twenty-four hours we have to hold him.”

  Rick glances over his shoulder to where the women are standing. I can’t bear to look. My behavior thus far has been less than chivalrous. Hudson would have my head if he knew.

  “Get your date away from here. It might get ugly, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  I could take what he’s saying at face value, but I see through the lines. “You don’t want me to blow my cover.” If I stay, she’ll see me for who I am, and Rick isn’t done using her yet.

  Rick’s head tilts to the affirmative. “That’s a concern. You’re in a good position. I still need you.”

  “I told her this was a work function. What’s she going to think when I cut out early?”

  Rick’s smile turns wry. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you about covert tactics? Or romance for that matter? It’s a huge building. Get a little lost for an hour while we make the arrest.”

  With a clap to my shoulder, and a gesture to his wife to follow, Rick melts back into the mingling crowd. I sigh and scramble for a plan, some sort of brilliance to cover yet another lie.

  “He’s interesting,” Kennedy says as she slips in beside me. “I’m not sure I’d enjoy working for him though. Feels like it would have its share of ups and downs.”

  “You have no idea. It’s a real rollercoaster.”

  Chapter 12

  Kennedy

  The longer I know him, the more I realize I know nothing. Roman changes from moment to moment. Conversation flowed easily on our way here, but now he’s a bundle of nerves, eyes darting as he searches the dim ballroom for who knows what. A threat? What kind of threat is there at an event like this? Close as I can tell, it’s wall to wall musicians and talent. Hardly the type to make trouble.

  “When do the performances start?” I’m hoping to jar him loose from whatever funk he’s fallen into, but he shakes his head as if he’s barely registered my words.

  “Not for a little while.” His hand takes mine, tighter than I expect from him. “Do you want to get some air?”

  Is he claustrophobic? Is that what’s happening? He doesn’t wait for my answer before he pulls me for the door that leads to the bathrooms. Maybe he’s got social anxiety issues. I can be patient, but a heads up would be nice. He’s acting like we’re on the run.

  He exhales once we’re in the hallway, as if he’s been holding his breath. He closes his eyes, counting under his breath, watching the exit door to the ballroom.

  “Roman,” I squeeze his hand to gain his attention, “do you have problems with crowds?” His brow folds in, obviously confused by the question. I scramble to explain myself. “It’s okay if you do, I’m not judging you. I’d rather hang out on our own anyway. Maybe we can find somewhere quiet to talk, and we’ll hear the bands like background music.”

  It takes him a minute to process my words, slowly nodding as he agrees. “Yeah, crowds. Social anxiety.” Roman steals a quick glance back at the ballroom, but the door re
mains shut. “I know just the place.”

  He leads me through empty corridors, a veritable maze I’ll never find my way out of. Each hallway is dimmer than the last. I doubt we’ll hear any music this far from the ballroom, but the tension is leaving his hand, so I stay on his heel.

  “Have you been here before?” I ask as we turn another corner.

  “Earlier today.” He points with his other hand. “I want to show you something.”

  It sounds sweet, but if I’m wrong, then this is how more than one true crime story has started. About the time I consider asking if we can go back. Roman shoves a metal handle and metal grates as it swings open It’s nothing but pitch-black darkness. I raise my eyebrows, waiting for his special surprise, but he only smiles.

  “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  Maybe he senses my reluctance to follow him any further in the dark. Maybe he can tell my faith is waning. For all I know, he’s got a gun under that jacket, and I’m about to be murdered.

  “You’re safe,” his whisper catches my ear, closer than I thought he was. His hand slips over my bare arm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  His warmth pulls back. His footsteps grow softer and farther away from me.

  Maybe I should be scared, but even though I don’t know him as well as I could, I trust him. If he says I’ll be safe, then I will. A hinge groans in the darkness. A couple clicks. Two deep thumps bounce from the walls in surround sound. A blinking red-light signals from the black ether stretching out before me. I take a half-step back. Then, like a deer on the highway, light explodes in front of me.

  A strangled cry erupts from my throat until I realize what it is, a spotlight. I step into the auditorium, taking in the stage, the red velvet curtain, the rows upon rows of stadium seats, and Roman, dead center working the control board.

  “What is this, Roman?”

  “I want to hear you sing,” he says, all the tension from before absent from his voice.

  “Are you kidding? We can’t use this place. We’ll get in trouble.” My heart starts to hammer in my chest. Excitement? Nerves? Fear of being scolded? I’m not sure, but I can’t stop it. Dead center on the stage, a microphone rests in a stand, waiting for a voice.