The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  “You realize no one talks like that, right?” I’m becoming sick of his learned-from-the-movies action talk.

  “Well, educate me,” Hudson says, “tell me how criminals like you actually speak.”

  “I’m not a criminal. I told you I was one of the good guys. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to believe anything. You tell me right now who you really are, or I’m going to tell Kennedy everything I know.”

  “You’re blackmailing me?”

  “I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

  Once again, the little twerp has me up against the proverbial wall. Tell him and I compromise my cover. Don’t tell him and Hudson will compromise my cover.

  His steeled glare relaxes with a sigh. “I don’t know what Kennedy told you about our family, but my mom died when I was a kid.”

  “Yeah, she mentioned it. That’s a tough break.”

  “It really was,” Hudson takes a few steps before he sinks onto my couch. “I don’t remember much of her. A couple things here and there. But you know what I do remember?”

  I take the chair diagonal from him, happy to be off my feet after a long night. Even happier that this kid is willing to talk, and I don’t have to leave him a walking bruise.

  “What’s that?”

  “I remember Kennedy reading me books at night when I couldn’t fall asleep. I remember Kennedy taking me to little league try outs, and then when that didn’t pan out, she took me to my first dance class and threatened to beat up any kid who made fun of me. I remember Kennedy folding my laundry and checking my homework. She helped me make my volcano in sixth grade. She skipped her junior prom to sit front row at my dance recital.” Hudson catches my eye. “Kennedy has given up way too much for me to stand by and let some fool take advantage of her. Tell me who you are. Tell me why I shouldn’t tell my sister to stay away from you.”

  I knew she was important, but I never would have guessed this level of attachment. I size him up, hopeful my instincts aren’t leading me down a dangerous path.

  “I work with the FBI. I’m a trained agent, but for the most part I stay with the computers.”

  If I was expecting a gasp or some sign of shock, it’s not there.

  “What was last night about? I know it wasn’t really a fundraiser.”

  “Big bosses wanted to take some guys in. It didn’t pan out.”

  “Why take Kennedy then? If you know there was going to be trouble, why involve her at all?”

  “My boss wanted to meet her.”

  “Why?”

  Kid has a future in interrogation.

  “Your sister is mixed up with some dangerous people. She’s clean. Close as we can tell, your dad is clean too.”

  “You’re investigating my family?”

  I’m too tired to deal with any of this. I sigh, rubbing my temples to keep the pending headache away.

  “I’m investigating and your family keeps crossing my path.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Hudson, you can’t say anything to anyone. I’m undercover. We’ve got a big cat by the tail, and it’s tenuous at best.”

  He nods, but I can tell he’s thinking his way around it. Finally, he asks the hardest question.

  “Do you like her? Are you actually interested, or is it just the investigation?”

  I know what I should say. I should tell him it’s all part of my cover. I had to get close to get the information I needed. But that would be a lie.

  “I can’t stop thinking about her. When I’m around her, everything else shuts off. She’s all I see, and that’s dangerous in my line of work. I don’t know what to do.” It’s a relief to say it all out loud. I feel like my deep attraction for her is a bigger secret than my cover or my career. Telling someone, even if he’s a teenage boy, makes it all real, solidifies my feelings in my mind. I can’t escape her.

  His shoulders lift as if he’s shrugging a bit. “You want to be with her? Have a relationship?”

  “That feels miles away right now. Our ages aren’t ideal. I have to close this case before I can—”

  “No, that’s not what I asked. I asked if you want a relationship with Kennedy. That’s a yes or no.”

  She’s there in him. Traces of her personality have etched on her brother, evidence of what she’s sacrificed to raise him.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know where to start.”

  Hudson draws in a breath and pushes to his feet. “She likes Mexican food. Eats the spicy stuff even though she has a terrible tolerance. I always order her milk when we go out because, without fail. she’s fanning her mouth after the first bite of salsa.” Hudson smiles at his next thought. “She hates chocolate, but thinks it’s shameful, so she eats it anyway. She prefers strawberry. And she likes ice cream better than cake. She thinks frozen yogurt is an abomination, but she’d never admit it.”

  I stop him short, unsure of what’s happening. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I’m giving you a hand up. These are her deepest secrets, stuff it takes people years to find out, and I’m handing it to you on a silver platter.”

  Without waiting for permission, he continues.

  “She doesn’t like roses because of all the weddings she does. She likes sunflowers. Brides never want those.” He counts the next pieces off on his fingers. “She likes dogs, but not little ones. She likes cats, but not furry ones. She picks tomatoes out of salads but eats them on burgers. She blasts the AC until it’s arctic temperatures, but if you turn it off, she won’t say a word. Her favorite color is black, but she thinks it makes her evil, so she tells people she loves light pink. She spends all her time worrying about what people think of her, and whether she’s doing enough. She’ll never feel like she’s enough, no matter how many times we assure her that she is.”

  I should have written it all down.

  “It’s all great information, Hudson, but—”

  He starts for the door, our business finished. “Ask her out. Do something normal. Don’t take your guns.”

  I rise to my feet, and the action stops him near the door.

  “Knowing what you know, you’re still okay with me taking her out?” I ask.

  “Not really,” Hudson says, turning the knob. “But she likes you, and that’s hard to ignore.”

  Chapter 14

  Roman

  Sunflowers are impossible to find. After three florists, I consider myself struck out by the opposing team. Empty-handed, I walk the path to the cottage next to the barn, the one marked office, the place Hudson said I could find her. I stop outside the door, wondering for the thirtieth time if I should have called, but dad always said it’s hard to turn a guy down face to face.

  I twist the knob and step into the cottage. Cool air wraps around me, reminding me of what Hudson said earlier about his sister blasting the AC. She’s sitting with a couple, leaning over a magazine, pointing to various arrangements of flowers. She’s wearing a skirt again. I love that she wears them. I’ve always loved a girl who acts like a girl. It clings to her figure, dark blue and professional, hitting below her knee.

  “Can I help you?”

  Her voice brings my head around, completely unaware that I wasn’t alone.

  “I was hoping to meet with Kennedy.”

  Kennedy’s sister, Victoria, dries her hands on a towel while sizing me up. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No,” I rub the back of neck with an open palm, “I was hoping she could squeeze me in.”

  Victoria’s eyebrows jut up in question. “Pretty presumptuous, don’t you think?”

  I let out a nervous laugh, unsure of how to deal with her. “I can come back if I need to.”

  She looks a lot like Kennedy, same auburn tone to her hair, same length to nearly her waist, but where Kennedy’s face is soft, feminine and gentle, Victoria’s is sharp, angular, and she resembles her father. Every second that passes, I feel her scrutiny sizing me up and forever finding me wanting. What is it with th
is family that they can reduce me to nothing, despite years of training?

  “You here to ask her out?”

  I grin, but it’s all nerves. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Oh, honey,” she hefts a pan full of sloshing liquid into the oven, “it’s written all over your face. Has been since day one.”

  “And you’re cool with it?”

  She laughs, but never turns around. “Talking to the wrong girl about that. Pretty sure Kenny’s opinion is the only one that matters.” She closes the oven with a hip. “But dad sure had an earful for me.”

  My stomach churns, and I might as well be fifteen waiting to pick up a date with her dad sitting on the couch cleaning a shotgun.

  “Breathe,” Victoria says, “he’s up at the house. No one has to know you’re here. In fact, I have to get over to the neighbor’s house for some fruit, this couple is wrapping up, and I won’t be back until that cake is done.” With purpose, she enters the time on the oven. Like a bomb, the screen displays: 40:00.

  “What about her next appointment?”

  “Nothing on the books the rest of the day.” As if the thought occurs to her, she pulls out her phone and taps the screen a few times. “There. Now you’re her four o’clock appointment. Good luck.” She winks once before she leaves.

  If I’m calling favorites on her siblings, Victoria is certainly in the lead. She didn’t even threaten to hit me. The knob jiggles and the doors swing open to Kennedy’s office.

  “I’ll check into the food for you, but I don’t see any problem with tarts for appetizers. We’ve done a dessert-based menu before.” Kennedy looks to the kitchen, surely expecting her sister, but in her sweep of the room, all she finds is me. “I’ll have to get back to you on them. Victoria has stepped out.”

  The bride-to-be says a few more words about her needs and dietary restrictions, but I’m not listening because I’m distracted by Kennedy Cartwright. The way she moves. The smile on her cheeks. The light in her eyes. Even the sound of her reassuring tone has me spellbound.

  “Take care,” catches my ears. Kennedy ushers them out the door and onto the path that leads back to the parking lot. She turns back to me, all smiles. “What did I do to deserve this surprise?”

  She relegates me to an oafish teenager, scared to say the wrong thing to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

  “I wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay.”

  There’s weight behind that smile of hers, not nearly as carefree as it has been in the past. Mentioning everything from last night anchors it further.

  “It was scary, and strange, and I can’t find mention of it on any news. Not radio, not the internet, nothing. It’s odd.” When I don’t respond to her unasked question, she pushes it further. “Isn’t that odd?”

  Knowing Rick, it’s not odd. He has a way of shutting down the media.

  “Maybe they don’t want people to worry.”

  “But you know, don’t you? Didn’t they tell you something?”

  I keep telling myself I’m lying to keep her safe. But is there a limit? Is there a point where I’m over the line? Unforgiveable?

  “Authorities said it was rival gang fight. The event got caught up in a turf war. They’re keeping it out of the news to discourage it from gaining attention and inciting more incidents.”

  I wait on her reaction. Whether she bought it or not, I can’t tell, but I’ve done nothing to bring back her smile.

  “I don’t understand this world sometimes.” Her mood falls to a flat line. “Why are you really here, Roman?”

  I have nothing left but the truth.

  “I wanted to ask you out, on a real date.”

  “Just the two of us?”

  Gathering up my courage, I take a step toward her. “Just the two of us. I thought we’d try this Mexican place near my apartment, Miguel’s.”

  “I love Miguel’s. They have the best sopapillas.” The tension between us starts to melt.

  “Maybe some ice cream after. There’s a shop near there with a homemade strawberry topping from a local farmer.”

  The brightness returns to her eyes, like watching a dying fire spark again. Hope surges in my heart that we have a chance despite everything working against us.

  “Yeah, Scoopers. It’s to die for. Have you had it?”

  “Not yet. I’ve seen the sign.”

  She closes the space between us by taking my hand in hers. “Oh, I have to be there when you try it the first time. It’s positively sinful.”

  Though forward, I switch my grip so I can run my thumb over her hand. “I can’t wait.”

  Her eyes dart back to my lips for a second, and I choke on my heartbeat. Through dark lashes, she glances up at me. “Are we going to talk about it at all?”

  Her words demand my focus, but her mouth is louder and distracting.

  “Talk about what?”

  “The kiss?”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them.”

  “Do you want to talk about them?”

  “Actually, I’d kinda like to try it again.”

  Without waiting for a response, Kennedy closes the gap completely. Her lips wrap around mine and my brain goes to jelly. I drop her hand to take her waist, pulling until she’s tight in my arms. She stretches on tip toe to deepen the kiss. Reason takes hold before I find myself lost in her affection. I break the kiss and draw in a breath to ease the burning in my lungs.

  “Even better than last time.” She’s close enough that she bumps against me while speaking. “When do you want to go out?”

  She expects coherent sentences after a moment like that? Laughable. I tuck the loose strands of her hair behind her ear, waiting for my breathing to normalize.

  “Friday?”

  Her teeth catch her lip. “I can’t. I have something going on.”

  “Wedding?”

  “No, that’s Saturday.”

  My heart hits the bricks. I step back, willing it not to be true.

  “Are you seeing someone else?”

  She laughs and grabs my arm to pull me close. “Nothing like that.”

  I’m trying to take solace in the fact that she’s dying to be close to me, but her secrecy grates on me.

  “Then, what’s going on?”

  Her mouth opens but hardly a sound comes out at first. “I’m singing at a private party.”

  “Really?” My heart soars for her good fortune. In all my enthusiasm, I kiss her square on the lips. Her body bends and gives way to my touch like a reed in the river, perfectly happy to be mine. I break the kiss, smiling like a mirror to her excitement. “Where? How’d this happen?”

  She wanders away from me, still lost in the thrill of it all. “I don’t know. I’m freaking out about it, but he asked so nicely, and the birthday boy has already heard me sing, I guess.” She whirls back. “He was there last night, Pedro. He was passing by the auditorium with his friend, Dante, and heard me singing to you. I guess he’s got a bug in his bonnet wanting me to sing for his party.”

  If a rattlesnake popped out from behind the kitchen cabinet and struck me, I couldn’t be any more stunned than I am right now.

  “Pedro Marquez, from The Nightingale?”

  “Yeah, you know him?”

  “I know of him, not personally though.” My worlds are colliding, and it’s worse than a big bang. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

  She draws her chin in. “You don’t think I can?”

  “I know you can, that’s not the point.”

  “Why don’t you want me to sing?”

  “I want you to sing, I just don’t know if that’s the best venue.”

  Anger flashes in her beautiful eyes. “I know the Nightingale. I’m comfortable there. I think it’s the best possible venue I can hope for in this instance.”

  I start to speak but swallow my words. There’s no way to explain that it’s not her, and it’s not the venue, but it’s the men hiring her causing my distress.

&nb
sp; “I thought you’d be happy for me.” Her smile sinks into a strained frown. “Out of everyone I figured you’d be happy—”

  “I am happy,” I say before she can jump off that cliff. “But, I guess, I’m jealous.”

  “Of Pedro?” Her voice tips up on the end to tell me how crazy I sound. “Trust me, there’s nothing there. I barely know the guy.”

  Quick thinking is part of my job, like tap dancing across a swamp of crocodiles. “I’m jealous because they get to hear you, and if it’s a private party, I’ll have to miss out on your first live performance.”

  The last crocodile snaps behind me as her smile spreads. “Really? You want to come?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say, but my stomach flips.

  “You could play for me. He wants the old feel like a twenties movie, gangsters and flappers and all that.” Mischief creeps behind her eyes. “It means we’d have to practice all week to get ready.” She walks her fingers up my chest, unaware of the torment wracking my psyche for what I’m planning. “That means a lot of time together.”

  “There’s a piano at Santos Sound. Meet me there tomorrow?”

  She leans up to my kiss, but my heart is burning with guilt for my duplicity. I make it quick, unable to lose myself like before.

  “Until tomorrow,” I whisper before I turn to leave.

  I pass Victoria on the path, avoid her knowing glare, and wait until I’m sure she’s inside the cottage before I call Rick.

  “I’ve got our way back in,” I tell him.

  There’s a special place full of fire and brimstone for people like me. I’ve told myself I’ve stayed close to her to keep her safe, but this proves otherwise. Not only am I unwilling to let her go, I’m dragging her into a lion’s den without apprising her of the dangers. Yes, she’s in trouble. Yes, she’s too close to everything. Yes, she can make a difference in this case, but at what cost? Doing something wrong for the right reasons is still wrong. My fate is sealed. She’ll never forgive me if she finds out what I’ve done. I only hope for another taste of heaven before I’m sent packing.

  Chapter 15