The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  The couple behind me draws back, as if they might go down for being within cuffing range. At this point, I’ll take anyone out if it means getting to Kennedy. I don’t feel like myself. It’s not like me to lose it, but my gut is screaming that something is horribly wrong. It’s strange that I haven’t seen her yet. My senses are drawn tight, nervous that there’s more here than I know.

  “Yeah,” the teen opens the gate and welcomes me through, “go ahead. Last I saw, Ace is up by the stage. I think Victoria is there too.”

  “And Kennedy?”

  He frowns. “I haven’t seen her for a while. But I’m sure one of them can help you.”

  I don’t bother to thank him. I brandish my badge, calling out, “FBI! Move!” as I push through the crowd shuffling to their seats. The crowd parts easily, scared of what I might do. It’s an empty threat. If Rick finds out I’m misusing my badge, he’ll hang me from the nearest tree.

  “Roman!”

  I spin, hoping it’s Kennedy, but Victoria catches my arm.

  “Do you have her?” There’s hope, even pleading in her wide eyes. “Please tell me she’s been with you.”

  “No, Kennedy’s not with me. I was coming to tell her goodbye. What’s going on?”

  Ace Cartwright shoves up next to me, cantankerous as ever. “Kenny’s missing. Can’t find her anywhere. Not like her to miss something like this. Sound team said she never checked in with them either and that was three hours ago.”

  “Has anyone seen her in three hours?” My training tells me this isn’t a typical missing person.

  “Carly and Marco said they were supposed to meet her at four and she never showed. Carly said they were a few minutes late, but it’s not like Kennedy to run off. She’d track them down if she had to. Where could she be?” Victoria rises up on her toes to search the crowd.

  I look at my watch. Three hours. She could be anywhere in three hours.

  “Where were they supposed to meet?” I lean close to Victoria to hear her answer over the throng.

  “Backstage,” she says. “I’ll show you.”

  I ignore Ace’s glare and follow Victoria through the crowd. She gains entry past the bouncer standing at the door, but the chaos extends to the backstage area as well.

  “Kennedy!” Victoria yells. “Kennedy, are you back here?”

  Something’s not right. I grab Victoria’s arm to pin her in place and dial Macroe’s number. She picks up on the first ring.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Palermo. Are you in the van?”

  “Waiting on you, Rom-e-o.”

  “Run a trace for me, would you?”

  Thankfully, she doesn’t question me. I recite Kennedy’s number from memory. In the background, the agent’s fingers clack against the keys. Opening strains from the first act fill the air. The crowd goes wild. No way would Kennedy miss this, not with all the work she’s invested.

  “You’re right on top of it,” Macroe says. “You want me to ping it?”

  “Do it.”

  I hang up the phone, listening for the alert Macroe has triggered. It’s nearly impossible in the din, but a faint ping resonates. Victoria catches sight of it first, crawling beneath a rack of chairs on the wall. Her face pales as she holds it out to me. The shattered screen confirms my fears.

  Kennedy was taken by force.

  “Get your family,” I tell Victoria. “Meet me out front. I want to walk the area.”

  She nods, but fear hobbles her feet. I shove her forward, trying to get her moving. In cases like this, every second counts. I press through the crowd, knowing if someone subdued her backstage, they would have used a back door to get her out, not the front where they’d be seen by everyone.

  The metal handle gives way and the setting sun lights the horizon in orange and pink. I search the ground for signs of a struggle, or dragging, but the ground is clear. I start around the front, headed to meet her family. My phone buzzes in my hand. Without looking at the screen I click it though, hopeful that Rick is there and willing to help.

  “Yeah, it’s Roman.”

  “Ah yes, the piano man.”

  I stop dead in my tracks.

  “Dante Alvero.”

  “Nice to talk with you, Agent Palermo. Wasn’t sure I’d get through. Probably real busy where you’re at right now.”

  “How would you know where I am?”

  Victoria spots me from the front and motions for Hudson and Ace to follow. I walk away, shoving distance between us so I can talk. Pushing the speaker button, I click through to text Macroe.

  “Trace the number calling me.”

  Alvero laughs at my words. “I’m like you, agent. I have eyes and ears everywhere. I trust by now you’ve found my songbird’s phone?”

  I hold up a finger to silence Kennedy’s family as they pull close.

  “Do you have her?”

  “Of course, after all, she belongs to me.”

  Anger courses through my veins. “She doesn’t belong to you, you psychopath. Let her go, and you won’t be charged.”

  My frustrations amuse him. “Big threats for you. I’m only playing by your rules.”

  “My rules? What are you talking about?”

  “You took something of mine and called it yours. I’ve taken something of yours and made it mine.”

  Realization dawns at once. “The files.”

  “Specifically, one. You stole my fox. I need it back.”

  Ace glares at me with hatred brimming in his eyes. If he could, he’d wring my neck for the danger I’ve brought on his family.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “I’m reasonable,” Alvero says, “a trade for what the other owns will be sufficient for now.”

  “When and where?”

  “Not so fast agent. I’ll be calling those shots. I’ll be in touch.”

  Ace snatches the phone from my hand. “Alvero, I’ll shoot you in both kneecaps and leave you to die. You tell me where my daughter is right now!”

  “Oh, Ace!” Alvero sounds close to giddy with excitement. “I’d hoped you caught wind by now. Careful of that heart. We’d hate to have something happen to you.”

  “You send her back or I swear no one will recognize your corpse, you hear me?”

  “Ace, no one ever said harm would come to her. Follow my instructions and I’ll be glad to send her back without harming a feather on my songbird’s head.”

  “How do we know you have her?” Victoria breaks in front of her father, grabbing my phone away. “How do we know she’s alive?”

  There’s pause, a few words in the background and then the worst sound I’ve ever heard.

  “Help me! Please, someone help me!” Kennedy’s screams of terror cut right through me. A clean slap cuts off her voice until it fades away into soft tears.

  Alvero comes back on the line with his last direction. “Be ready in one hour. Cross me and the bird will be in bits.”

  Three beeps indicate the end of the call. I stare at the phone, unsure of how to proceed. The file is key evidence against Alvero and Dark Fox. Giving it away would be like letting them go. But at the same time, we can’t use the files without the encryption key. What good is a lock without a key?

  My thoughts are jarred by Ace’s grip on my jacket. “What’s it gonna be, Mr. FBI? How are you getting my daughter back?”

  I shake him off, shoving him back into Hudson’s arms. “We’ll take care of it. That’s what we do.”

  “Like this?” Ace asks. “You had them, and now they have her. Is that how you’re going to take care of it?”

  “Daddy,” Victoria puts her hand on his shoulder, “this isn’t Roman’s fault.”

  “He got her wrapped up in this mess, didn’t he?”

  “She’s been going to The Nightingale long before Roman came to town,” Hudson says. “She didn’t tell you because she knew you wouldn’t approve.”

  Ace shakes his kids off and levels his finger at me. “I don’t care what they say
. I’m holding you responsible. You bring my daughter back, you hear me?”

  I agree, but in the back of my mind I worry that bringing her back might mean a body bag.

  Chapter 23

  Kennedy

  Thoughts churn like those old-time lollipops mom used to buy us at the state fair. The colors swirled together. Then the lollipop twisted the swirls. My mouth waters just thinking about one. It sounds amazing. Cherry and pineapple, maybe grape, or lemon. Anything to get this taste out of my mouth. What is it? Feels like the week I spent at camp and forgot my toothbrush. Or the time I fell from the swing set and knocked out my front teeth.

  Blood.

  Metallic tang and a swollen lip. I try to open my eyes, but the left won’t cooperate. Even through my right eye, the world is hazy. I move to rub the sleep away, but my hand jerks in place. Panic wells up in my heart.

  “I wouldn’t move too much,” a man says to my left. “You’re not in a position to hold your own weight just yet.”

  I follow the voice, but through the haze in my eyes, I see nothing more than an outline. Tall, broad shouldered, dark suit and tanned skin.

  I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. A snap from my left clicks. I hear footfalls across a hollow floor. Fingers grip my chin, but before I can pull away, water floods my mouth. I gulp the water, spilling half of it down my front. The trickles run over bare skin, into crevices.

  I recoil.

  I’m not wearing my own clothes.

  Squinting my bad eye, I focus on my legs. Sequins wink up at me. Far too elegant for what I’m enduring.

  A strapless dress.

  They changed my clothes.

  Did who knows what, while I slept unconscious.

  Revulsion churns my stomach.

  “Who are you?” My hoarse whisper grates on the air.

  The figure turns away from me, as if he won’t answer, but his voice trails through the air, a perfect juxtaposition of refinement against my haggard appearance.

  “That is of no concern to you, but if you must know, those in my circle call me Dark Fox.”

  “What do you want with me? Why am I here?” Speaking the words lights my throat on fire. I want to collapse to the ground, but my body remains upright.

  “I’m afraid you’ve become a nuisance we can’t afford any longer. Your risky relationship with federal agents outweighs even my employee’s morbid fascination with you. I ordered a bullet between your eyes, but Dante thought up this scheme, two birds, and one stone, so to speak.” His laughter is musical, more refined from what I would expect from a man of his caliber. “Birds, excuse the pun. You’re quite the little songbird, aren’t you? I was impressed at Dante’s party.”

  “I don’t understand.” My knees buckle, and I feel hands for the first time. Someone stands behind me, keeping me upright, forcing me to remain still, as if collapsing to the ground might disrespect the boss.

  “No, you wouldn’t. The honest answer is far too simple. You’re caught in the middle. This war goes back decades. Players in a game won by more than cards. We had a truce. But it looks as though those days are over. Too bad. That’s when the innocent die. Children paying for the sins of their fathers, that’s all this is. But,” his feet echo down a set of stairs, “rejoice because your death will mean sustained life for my empire. Quite the noble sacrifice, Miss Cartwright.”

  I follow the shadow of his figure, moving far away until a sliver of light betrays a door, and he’s gone. The hands at my back release me, and I collapse to the floor.

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  “I don’t understand,” I repeat myself back to Rick. “We know Dante has her. We know we could stick him with an abduction rap as well as who knows what else, but you’re not willing to consider it?”

  He stands outside the van, arms crossed over his chest, unwilling to budge an inch. “Are you new around here? The standard line won’t change, we don’t negotiate with terrorists. Not even when it’s the girl you’ve got a crush on.”

  “She’s a civilian, Rick. She’s only wrapped up in this because of choices we made, yours and mine. Her blood is on our hands. We have to get her.”

  Rick shakes his head, pressing his lips tight. “It’s not that simple. If you were talking about a raid, maybe. But you want to trade valuable intel. What kind of precedent would we be setting?”

  “Valuable intel? It’s half a file. It’s nothing to us without the encryption code. Who cares?”

  “They do, Palermo. That’s what’s got me.” Rick’s jaw tightens, shifting side to side. “If they’re this desperate to get it back, don’t you think we have something more than useless information? I can’t risk that on the life of one girl. We have agents scouting out their locations, as least the ones we know about. They just cleared The Nightingale. We’re in the waiting game right now. I know it’s frustrating, but there’s nothing else we can do.”

  He makes me want to scream. I slam my open palm against the van. Pain lights up my system. The swell of adrenaline subsides, leaving me with a sick calm in the face of destruction.

  “There has to be something we can do. I refuse to stand by and let her die.”

  “When that call comes in, we’ll make a counter plan. Follow protocol. That’s all we have left.”

  Rick turns on his heel and climbs back into the van. I lean back, smacking my head repeatedly against the window, hoping to knock free some loophole, some tidbit I’ve never thought of.

  I scoured the entire auditorium. Searched the perimeter. With all the foot traffic, it was impossible to see a trail of any kind. With two men they could have easily carried her to a waiting vehicle. But in broad daylight?

  Spotting him in the distance, I flag Hudson down. He jogs toward me, eyes wide with hope.

  “Did you hear from her?”

  I hate squashing his optimism, but I need his instincts instead. “Not yet. Tell me about this event. Do you do everything? Or do you bring in sub-contractors?”

  “We do almost everything, I guess we contract a few things out.”

  “Like what?” My impatience speeds my words. “What specifically would apply to the auditorium?”

  Hudson shakes his head like he’s never going to pass this test. “I’m not sure, that’s Kennedy’s world. I know we have a sound guy, but he’s been with us for years. I help him out in the booth. He’s taught me a lot, and he’s like seventy. No way could he take Kennedy. And the lighting guys bring in some stuff, but most everything is already here. That’s why they like working with us.”

  “What about food? Catering of any kind? I’m looking for anyone who would be carrying large chests, or a bag big enough for—” I stop before I can say body.

  Tears gather in his eyes. The sun has set. Trauma is always harder in the dark.

  “Victoria takes care of the food,” Hudson swallows his emotion the best he can. “I can’t think of anyone—”

  “I didn’t do the food this time.” Victoria comes up beside her brother. “Dad and I got in a battle a couple days ago. He went around me and hired caterers.”

  “Where are they?”

  Victoria shrugs. “I swear I saw the van pull up, but I’ve been looking for them for a couple hours, and I haven’t found them anywhere.” Horror dawns in her eyes. “Do you think they took her?”

  “What kind of caterers kidnap a person?” Hudson’s voice cracks under the stress.

  “The kind who aren’t dealing in food.” I take him by the shoulders. “There’s a chance your sister is still here, on the ranch. They might not have risked taking her very far. Is there somewhere quiet they could hold her?”

  Before he can answer, my phone rings. I slam my hand against the van window until Rick sticks his head out. I hold up my phone and motion for everyone around me to stay quiet. I click through the call and switch to speaker.

  “This is Roman. Who am I speaking to?”

  “Pedro Marquez,” he answers, but I’d know his squirrely little voi
ce anywhere.

  “What are your demands?”

  “We told you our demands. We want the file back in exchange for the girl. What you need to know is our directions. The directions you’re going to follow, or we’ll blow your little girlfriend into a hundred bits.”

  He’s baiting me, trying to get under my skin, but he’s a low rung nothing, which means Dante is making his break and leaving Pedro to clean up. Rick whirls his finger in the air, telling me to stretch it out, the trace must be working.

  Ace steps in next to his daughter. Victoria sets a hand over her father’s arm for comfort. I hate letting them hear this. If I’m going to stretch the phone call, I’ll have to dive into details no family member should ever hear.

  “How’d you get her out, Pedro? We know you posed as caterers, but I can’t find van tracks by the auditorium. You must have gotten sly. Expected something a little heavier handed from the likes of you.”

  “She’s small. Fits perfect in an ice chest, long as you break a few things to jam her in.”

  Her father’s lip trembles at the thought. My own rage kindles in my chest but betraying my calm would only aggravate the situation. I have to keep the power on my side.

  “Then what? Carried her across the field like a picnic?”

  “Just about. She’s pretty as a picnic, but I don’t have to tell you that, do I, Agent Palermo?” Wicked laughter crosses the line. “Got her looking real good in this little number right now. Strapless, slit up the leg. You seen her body yet? Real treat, I assure you.”

  I stare at the phone, contemplating every way I want to kill this guy. I can’t let him rattle me, but the helplessness of the situation is more than I can bear.

  “You wanna hear from her? I can make her sing good.” Pedro says something away from the phone. Screams light up the line, indistinguishable sounds except to know the voice who made them.

  “You like that, Palermo? You want some more?” Another command in Spanish brings on a torrent of Kennedy’s screams. They’re torturing her. The scream winds into my brain, twisting like a knife until I can’t think, breathe, or function.