The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  Roman’s hand stretches down to me, pulling me to my unsteady feet. He grips my elbow to grant me balance. I can’t look at him, not while I’m feeling this way.

  “Rick needs me to stay and help clean up, deal with the authorities. He’s calling you a cab.”

  His voice fuzzes and fades as if he’s talking from underwater. I can’t trust my ears. That’s all this is. Adrenaline induced hysteria. I’m not hearing anything right. I nod because he won’t look away, and I need him to look away right now.

  Air.

  I need air. I stumble forward toward the door, but on the third step my leg goes out from beneath me. Roman’s arms catch me before I hit the floor. I look away, hoping to keep a grasp on my sanity, but in my search for a safe house for my sight, I spot it.

  A gun tucked into a holster beneath Roman’s jacket.

  Chapter 13

  Kennedy

  My dress cuts the bedspread in half. It hasn’t stopped whispering secrets since the cab dropped me off twenty minutes ago. The dress knows what happened tonight. The dress was there when I saw his gun, and it won’t shut up. The secrets are in my head, more like anxieties and questions with no answers.

  Why did he have a gun?

  Why isn’t anyone talking about a terrorist attack?

  Do I tell anyone, or keep it to myself?

  I don’t have any answers, just more questions. All I want to do is forget it ever happened. But the dress was there, it saw everything, and I stripped it from my body the second I walked through my bedroom door.

  Flannel. Flannel doesn’t get involved in gunfights, or people screaming. Flannel pajamas are soft and cozy and stay home where it’s safe.

  I can’t unsee it, the gun beneath his jacket. Every time I close my eyes, that’s all I see, as if my mind is demanding an answer for the inconsistency. I roll the memory like an old school VHS in my mind.

  It’s hard not to get swept away in the thrill, the excitement of our passionate moment. I ran my hands over his chest. I must have been inches from feeling the hilt of his weapons when he snatched my hands away.

  Three knocks at my door slam my heart into overdrive. My eyes snap open, searching out the threat, but Hudson has never been dangerous.

  “How was your date?” He leans against the doorframe, eyebrows elevated, but I swear there’s more there than a nosey younger brother.

  “Fine, I guess.”

  “Cab took you home?”

  Nosey is right, but his room faces the driveway, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Something happened.” I hesitate because if I say it, it might be real. “Roman had to stay and help with the cleanup.”

  “Someone get drunk and fall in the punchbowl?” Hudson enters, knowing he doesn’t need permission, and sits square on the center of my dress. Serves it right for whispering things to me.

  “Not exactly. I think it was a terrorist attack, or something.”

  Hudson mouth falls open. “Kenny, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  He should be more surprised, instead I swear he was expecting this, as if this were the reason he came to my room.

  “I’m fine. Roman and I weren’t there, we’d gone off to—” I stop when Hudson’s left eyebrow cocks in surprise. “What?”

  A grin quirks at his cheek, “You went off with Roman? Alone?”

  I roll my eyes at his immaturity. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like?”

  I’m losing control of the situation. “We got to the party, and I don’t know maybe ten minutes into it, Roman acted weird and said he needed air. We left and walked through the hallways,” Hudson is hanging off every word like I’m going to admit some horrible sin, “It wasn’t romantic. He wanted to show me something.”

  “That’s the oldest line in the book, Kenny.” Hudson mimes putting his arm around a girl. “Hey, come on, I want to show you something, in this dark closet, oh what was that? We need to make out? Okay.” Like a beast he rubs his hands all over his invisible date. I shove him off the bed and only smile after he lands with a thump on the floor.

  “It wasn’t like that. He took me to the auditorium.” I catch my lip between my teeth for a moment as I think about standing on the stage in the spotlight. “He wanted me to sing for him.”

  I expect something snarky from my younger brother, but out of everyone, he understands what music means to me.

  “About the time I finished the song,” I edit out the bits about Roman telling how beautiful I am, not to mention talented, “shots were fired in the ballroom. People started screaming and running. Roman took me back into this room and locked the door. I was so scared, Hudsie.”

  He waits a moment, considering his words with more caution than he normally employs. “But he kept you safe?”

  “Yeah, I was surprised by how calm he was.” I rub my hands over my face. “It was weird though. The way he was talking with his boss, and the way he sent me away. Have you heard anything about this on TV? It seems like it would make the news, don’t you think? And was it coincidence that he took me away from the ballroom? Or did he know something?”

  My brother won’t look at me. He shrugs and sighs. “I don’t know. That’s wild.”

  “Huds,” I wait until he looks up, “what if he’s a criminal? What if he knew about it because he was part of it? I mean, I hear about shady deals in the music world, what if he’s mafia or something? He’s Italian after all.”

  “Not every Italian guy has ties to the mob. Some guys carry guns. Our florist keeps one in the vase by the display case for heaven’s sake.” Maybe I don’t look convinced because he presses it farther. “Do you think he’s a criminal?”

  The memory of Roman’s touch lights up my senses. Soft, gentle, careful and cautious, it doesn’t feel like he’s a bad guy.

  “I don’t know. All I know is it doesn’t add up. Maybe I shouldn’t see him again.”

  Hudson gathers his legs underneath him and moves to stand. “Do you like him?”

  I hate to admit it, but the evidence is stacking against me.

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  He’s never been one to give me advice, and he’s not starting now.

  “You’ll figure it out.” He pauses in the doorway. “But be careful, Kenny.”

  He’s about to leave when I call his name. “Hey, how’d your date with Jill go?”

  There’s no willpower strong enough to keep the smile from his face. “Really well. We went to the movie, and then I drove her out to the pond by Fletcher’s place.”

  “Hudson! What would possess you to do something like that?”

  He smirks. “Well you know, I just wanted to show her something.”

  I grip the pillow in my hand, but he’s gone before I can launch it. It falls to the floor with a thump. I draw in a breath, happy for a moment of distraction. But the dress calls my attention again, and the only recourse is to turn out the light and try to put an end to a long, confusing day.

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  I’ve been staring at her name in my phone for over an hour.

  Kennedy Cartwright-Cartwright Ranch-Talent Scout

  That’s everything they gave me in her file. That and a small thumbnail of her driver’s license picture. She needs a new one. It’s too old. It doesn’t capture the woman I know now. And certainly not the woman that took my breath away the first day she knocked on Santos Sound’s door.

  “Palmero,” Rick shouts my name from the other side of the room, “Come look at this.”

  I rub my face with both palms, trying to shake off my exhaustion. Three am, still combing the building for any evidence and coming up empty. I stop by Rick’s side where he’s leaning over a laptop watching a surveillance.

  “There.” He taps the screen. “That’s Dante. He was in the building tonight. Took the back entrance I guess.”

  The scene shifts, and I note Pedro walking down a hallway. “Looks like Pedro was going to grab him. Maybe bring him i
n the back way.”

  “Did they meet up?”

  The tech with the computer shrugs at Rick. “This security system has rotating shots. I get ten seconds from each camera, but no continual feed. The best we can do is watch it in the entirety and extrapolate what they did by the end.”

  Rick’s jaw tightens with frustration. “Do it. Get a report within the hour. I need to know what went wrong.” He nods his head toward the back wall, a signal that I should follow him. “We were careful. We backtracked and cleared everything. I don’t understand what happened here.”

  “Sometimes things don’t pan out, sir. You plan for everything and still come up short.”

  “Not me. Not this op.” He’s exhausted as well, maybe more so. No one knows who fired first. Rick said they were moving to take Pedro in for questioning, and gun shots fired around the ballroom. Dark Fox operatives had infiltrated the event. They worked as a distraction and Pedro snuck out in the firefight. Two agents were shot. Both in critical condition the last I heard. Keeping everything under wraps feels impossible at this point, but Rick has a tight grip on the story. No media. No response. I don’t know what I’ll say to Kennedy. If I see her again, that is. More importantly, if she wants to see me again.

  “The bigger question is what do we do now? It’s obvious Dante knows we’re chasing him.” Rick’s mind is whirling, and it’s rare that I end up on the winning side of these rants. “We need someone on the inside.”

  I put up my hands. “I can’t. Number one, I’m not cleared for deep undercover work, number two, they know my face.”

  His annoyance glows in his eyes. “Number one, I’ve seen your file, Palmero. You’re more ready than half the men I’ve worked with. You’re more than cleared in my opinion. I’ve been talking to folks. Everyone agrees, it’s about time you stop hiding with the techs and become the agent you were meant to be.”

  “I’m not hiding, sir.” It’s too early in the morning to consider whether my tone is respectful. “I do my job fine, and I keep the people around me safe because I’m not out there putting my life on the line.”

  “You mean like tonight? Your life was on the line, and you performed admirably.”

  “I put a civilian at risk, and for what?”

  “You think she isn’t at risk, already? Your girl is running in dangerous circles and has no idea who she’s up against. She talked with Pedro like they’re in the same book club. I’ll give you that she’s innocent, but she’s naïve as well, and you know it could get her killed.”

  Why does he have to be right? Kennedy is at the center of the case, and yet like the eye of the hurricane, she’s unaware of the danger swirling around her.

  “She’s not my girl,” I say. “But even if you’re right about me, I can’t do anything this time. They know my face now. Even I can’t get by with a repeat this close together.”

  “Your file says otherwise. But no, I don’t want you on the inside this time, at least not yet.”

  Relief floods my veins. Diving deeper into this hornet’s nest is only going to endanger Kennedy more. “Then who? Are you bringing in new agents?”

  “Why do that when we’ve already got someone in place?”

  “Someone in place—” The horrible truth dawns on me at once. “No, not Kennedy. I’m not bringing her in on this.”

  “Why not? They won’t suspect her. They’ll bring her in and trust her implicitly.”

  “Because she’s a civilian. She’s not made for this work. You saw her tonight. You saw the way she—” I stop short. Was I really going to talk about the way she clung to me? “Find another way.”

  Rick watches me as if I’m keeping secrets from him. He’s the type to rip your soul from your body, hold it up to the light and show you every mistake and bad decision you’ve ever made.

  “For now, we’ll keep looking at other options. But I’m not writing her off.”

  He turns on his heel and moves back to the tech with the laptop.

  I look at my phone again. Her name is still there. I wish I could call and explain this mess to her. I wish I knew if she’ll want to see me again, or if she finally realizes why I’ve been careful. She might want to walk away after something like this. I hang on to a shred of hope because I can’t imagine walking away after a kiss like that.

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  “I think it’s going to be beautiful.”

  Tiffany smiles and gives her fiancé Greg a wink. After an hour and a half of drafting, her wedding is well on the way to being planned. I snap her binder shut and rise from my seat, relieved when they follow suit.

  “I hate to rush you out, but I have another meeting in ten minutes.”

  It’s mostly true. I have a phone call to make to the local florist because I have a bride with a specific rose she’s looking for, not red, not burgundy, but scarlet. I spent an hour last week pouring over pictures trying to understand the difference between a red rose and a scarlet one. I still don’t understand, but at least I have the rose’s name. It’s a start.

  I close the glass doors on my office, sighing out my frustrations with my life. At least I’ve been busy, no time to think about Roman, or guns, or terrorists. I sink back into my chair, air wheezing out from the cushion. With a few seconds of downtime, that’s precisely where my thoughts go. Back to his quick smile, careful hands and full lips. If only we could go reverse time, travel back to when our biggest stumbling block was our age gap.

  My cell phone rings, jarring my senses back to the issues at hand. I wait through the second ring and pick it up in the pause.

  “Cartwright Ranch, this is Kennedy.”

  “I was hoping I’d get you.” The voice is familiar, but I don’t place it at first. “This is Pedro Marquez from The Nightingale.”

  “Oh, hello Pedro. What can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping you could help me out. I have a friend with a birthday coming up, and he wants live music.”

  “Of course, I’d love to help.” I flip open my contact list binder. “What kind of music is he into? I know groups ranging everywhere from bluegrass to a funk band that plays in the city twice a week.”

  “That’s the thing,” Pedro’s volume drops as if he’s divulging a secret, “Dante isn’t interested in any of that. He has his eye on one singer.”

  “Okay,” my nerves pull tight. Pedro knows all the same players that I do, it’s not like he couldn’t call a singer up and ask them to perform. “Who is it?”

  “You.”

  Involuntary laughter burbles out of my throat. “Me? That’s a great joke, Pedro.”

  “Do I sound like I’m joking? He’s only got eyes for you.”

  “That’s silly. I don’t sing in public. You know that.”

  “I told him too. He doesn’t care. He heard you singing last night, and he’s got a one-track mind. He told me whatever the cost, I had to make it happen.”

  “Wait last night? So that was you in the doorway. I thought I saw you.”

  “Drawn to beautiful music, I guess.”

  I bite my lip, considering my next words. “Were you there when it all went down? The shooting and stuff? I didn’t see any of it, but I heard everything.”

  “We left before it got hot.” His tone turns stiff. I don’t blame him. I don’t want to talk about it either. “What do you say, Kennedy? It’s a pretty intimate affair, and we’re closing down Nightingale for the night. Will you come sing happy birthday and maybe a short set?”

  My instincts tell me to turn him down, but if I close my eyes, I can still feel the spotlight on my skin. It’s not a big deal. It sounds like an intimate affair. Booker told me I needed to practice to get over my nerves. I can’t get the memory of singing in the spotlight from my mind. Isn’t it time I chose my own path?

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  “I hear you.” I press the heels of my palms to my temples to stop the banging in my head, “I’m coming.
I’m coming.”

  The knocks, more like bangs, at my apartment door are relentless. Each one echoes in my exhausted brain. Five more pounds before I jerk open the door. Sleep clouds my vision, but I strain, and he solidifies.

  “Hudson?”

  “Hey, Roman.” Both his hands are curled into tight fists, safe to say he’s talked with his sister.

  “What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

  “Followed you last week, just in case. I had a couple questions to ask you, well, one really.” His hand strikes, taking my shirt into his grip and retracting his opposite fist like he’s planning to punch me. “Who are you?”

  I shove him back. Easy enough since I outweigh him by a buck twenty. He stumbles, but never loses the fire in his eyes. “She was shook last night, man. Straight shook. Tell me what’s going on!”

  Doors crack open down the hallway. I don’t have the luxury of keeping the kid out in the open. I grab him by the back of his neck and yank him inside my apartment.

  “Wanna keep your voice down? I don’t need half the building knowing my business.” I let my door fall shut before I lock it.

  His stance changes once we’re alone in a locked room. Much of the bravado is gone when he doesn’t have witnesses.

  “Who are you, really?” Hudson squares his shoulders like he’s tough, but I remember being seventeen and thinking I could take on a guy twice my size. “Because you said you’d keep her safe and the story I got from her last night is totally different.”

  “She was safe. She wasn’t hurt.”

  “That’s a relative term, isn’t it? Just to clarify, for any future adventures where you might feel like you should involve my sister, hiding in a closet from gunmen isn’t safe.”

  “I didn’t think it would go down like that.”

  “What did you think?” His eyes widen like I’m not hearing him. “Come on, man. I saw you packing heat.”