The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  “She’s in there, and he’s too chicken crap to go after her,” Hudson says, pointing to me. “She’s wired.”

  Ace’s eyes widen. “There’s a bomb?”

  “Yeah,” I run my fingers through my hair, trying to catch hold of my mind and the situation. “I don’t know bombs, and I’m fairly sure my entire team got blown sky high. Including our bomb tech.”

  Ace clears his throat. “I can do it.”

  “What?” I look up to see if he’s bluffing, but the old rancher’s eyes are steady. “You can disarm it? How? How on earth do you know about—”

  “US Army. Served four years. Someone was always trying to blow us up. Served me well to learn how to kill one of those things. Not to mention, you work on a ranch long enough, and you pick up some knowledge about wiring.”

  “You willing to risk her life on that knowledge?”

  He narrows his eyes as he stares me down. “You think I’d be offering if I weren’t. Let’s get this done.”

  “Dad,” Victoria set her hand to his shoulder, “your heart, I don’t think you can take this.”

  “You worry about getting your sister out. That’s all that matters, you hear me?” It’s Ace’s word that carries the family. Victoria backs down and the patriarch looks to me. “What’s the plan?”

  I’m not a leader. I’m a pawn in the battle. I receive commands and execute them, but these three Cartwrights need me to step up and take over.

  “Like Vic said,” I steal the family name for her, “he’s obsessed with her. If it’s Dante in there, he’s got her on the stage performing for him while he’s in the center. He’ll have a remote detonator. We’ll have to time it perfectly.”

  “I’ll take Vic with me,” Ace says, “I’ll strip the alarm on the emergency exit door and enter from the wings on the stage.”

  “No,” Victoria says, “Roman needs me to shoot. I’m climbing up top, going in through one of the vents on the roof. I have an idea.”

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  Music has never tortured me. It’s always been my liberator. But my voice strains and cracks. Dante threatens the detonator every time I drop a note. My heart can’t take this abuse.

  “Just do it!” I scream mid-song. “Just hit it. You’ll take us both out. No way will you survive.”

  A grin curls over his slippery cheeks. “I planned for that, darling. I have thirty seconds to make my way out. That’s hardly even a quick jog. These walls will contain the blast—and the mess you’ll make.”

  I have no tears left. The saltwater stings the wounds anyway. My shoulders shake with silent sobs no one will ever hear.

  “Sing for me,” Dante leans forward in his seat, “sing me one last song.”

  “Concert’s over.”

  His voice jerks my head up. Roman fills the entryway to the main room in the auditorium. A gun tight in his grasp, he levels at Dante, still sitting in the center seats. Like a stalking predator, Roman slips closer by the second. As if expecting it, Dante laughs.

  “Did you feel that thunder a minute ago? Who knew FBI agents would make such a ripple in the pond? I have to say I’d hoped you’d gone up with them.”

  “You’re under arrest, Dante. Disarm the bomb. Let the girl go. I’m taking you in.” He crosses at the base of the seats, headed for the stairs, pulling closer to Dante at the center of the room.

  Dante’s laughter increases. “Such bold words from you. Didn’t know you had it in you.” He lifts that detonator over his head. “I’ll be glad to drop it, but you should know, this model came with a bonus dead man’s switch. If I drop it,” he mimics the explosion with his hands.

  “Roman, get out of here!” I shout from the stage. “It’s not worth it.”

  Dante smirks in my direction. “Smart girl. There’s no way to win this one.”

  The FBI agent slinks closer, climbing the stairs, first level, second level, never taking his eyes off of his target. “You’re gonna disarm that bomb, Dante.”

  “Not likely.”

  PSSSTTT

  I pry my eyes away from the showdown and search the darkness of the wings. Hudson motions for me to join him. Dad’s crouched on the ground, waiting. I shake my head, motioning to the rope securing me to the floor.

  “I’m gonna give you until three,” Roman says, holding my captor’s focus.

  “You won’t risk it,” Dante says. “You shoot me, and we all die.”

  “You think you hold all the cards with that switch,” Roman shakes his head, “All I have to do is keep you in here with me. You’re not looking to die today. Disarm the bomb, Dante.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll count for you, because it’s an empty threat.” Dante holds up his hand and counts down. “Three, two, one.”

  A shot shatters the silence. Dante pulls his hand back in, clutching it to his chest. Blood pools where the bullet has torn through the flesh. Roman’s gun hasn’t moved. He never fired. He has a second shooter. Fear flashes in Dante’s eyes before his arrogance takes over.

  “I’d rather die in here then rot in prison.”

  “It’s an option,” Roman says, voice level as his gun. He moves into position, third level, even with Dante. “Three, two…”

  “You wouldn’t think to—”

  A shot breaks through his words, not waiting for the final count this time. Dante grabs his leg, screaming, sinking to his knees. Metal grates metal as the shooter jams the bolt back and ejects the shell.

  “Vic!” Roman shouts to rafters. “At least wait for the count.”

  Dante spews threats, curses, and death upon us all. “You asked for this.”

  The detonator falls from his hand and clatters to the ground. Roman’s gun fires in rapid succession. Dante’s body falls beneath the seats and out of sight. Hudson hurries my dad across the stage to my side.

  “Ace! Can you do it?” Roman yells from the center seats.

  My father grabs my wrists, twisting until he can see the housing. The clock ticks down.

  00:29

  00:28

  00:27

  “I don’t know,” Dad yells back at him. “Get Vic and Hudson out of here.”

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  00:25

  Victoria scrambles down from where she was perched, rifle in hand.

  00:24

  00:23

  The clock ticks down without any regard for our lives.

  “Can you do it or not, Dad?” Hudson holds Kennedy’s hands steady, knife ready.

  00:21

  00:20

  00:19

  “I don’t know. It’s been a long time.”

  The confidence her father displayed earlier is vanishing in the face of blowing his daughter to bits.

  “You guys gotta get out!” I scream at them. “Go! Now!”

  00:17

  00:16

  “I’m doing it, Dad” Hudson flicks his knife open and slices the zip tie securing the bomb to Kennedy’s wrists. He saws through the rope that secures her to the stage. Once free, he shoves her into her father’s arms, but there’s no time for celebrating. Jerking the handle on the trap door, Hudson drops the bomb into the storage unit below.

  00:11

  00:10

  The tiny door slams shut.

  “Run!” Hudson screams.

  I jump the cloth seats, counting the last seconds in my mind. I rush through the auditorium exit into the hallway. Gripping the door, I slam it shut. Ace and Hudson wheel an ancient lighting unit in front of the door.

  “Go!” I push them forward, trailing behind them.

  3

  2

  1

  The blast wave slams me against the wall. A high-pitched wail rings in my ears, unrelenting and blinding with pain. Walls shake and cripple. I collapse to the ground, air knocked from my lungs, leaving me gasping. Shockwaves rip through my body. I crawl forward, glass and cement chunks cutting into my arms. Debris falls from the ceiling. I drag myself over the floor.
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  “Watch out!”

  I don’t know who screamed it, but it’s half a second too late. A beam collapses on top of me, pinning my legs. I struggle hard, panic caving in around me with the rest of the building. I can’t get free. Every movement is more painful than the last.

  Hands link with mine, dragging and pulling. Muffled shouts and commands hedge up around me. I scream in agony as I’m jostled free. The ground caked with cement and wreckage shifts to cold earth and dewy grass as I am dragged free of the old auditorium. I collapse into the soil, moaning but strangely happy for the pain that tells me I’m alive.

  Insistent hands roll me on my back. I recoil my arm, positive it’s broken. Hudson pats down my frame. I bat him away with my good arm, hoping for one moment’s peace.

  Ace’s face floods my vision. “Your shoulder is dislocated!” He’s yelling, but I can barely hear him. “I’m gonna set it.”

  “No, don’t!” I try to say the words, but my lungs are coated in debris and dust. Without listening, Ace pulls me against him. Fire rips through my body as he jams my shoulder back into place. I collapse again, searching in my delirium for the one thing that matters.

  “Where’s Kennedy?” I cough until I gasp for air. “Where’s Kennedy?”

  Ace leans over me again, sizing me up. “Why should I tell you?”

  I’m too tired to think of a lie. Too tired to give an excuse. I only have one answer left in my delirium.

  “Because I love her.”

  I cling to consciousness, but it slips away and takes me with it.

  Chapter 26

  Roman

  Five days in the hospital.

  Four days back east facing my consequences from superiors.

  Two days staying with mom and lying my butt off about why I can’t hear her very well. Dad seemed to know. For the first time in a long time, he recognized me. Maybe because I’m finally acting like myself.

  Two more days to argue with myself about seeing her, because technically she told me to keep my distance. But that was before I rescued her from a psychopath.

  Ten minutes parked at the front of her driveway, trying to get the courage to drive in.

  Twenty-three seconds before Hudson accosts me outside the house.

  “Whatcha doing here, Roman?”

  “Good to see you too, kid,” I say. “You doing okay?”

  He shrugs. “The ringing stopped by day two. How about you?”

  “Comes and goes. It was quick thinking to throw the bomb in the storage locker. Probably saved my life since it contained some of the blast.”

  “You know, just trying to be a hero like you. You got us all outside the building before the blast hit.”

  Small talk has never been my forte.

  “Is she home?”

  “She’s around.” Hudson’s non-committal answer only tightens my nerves.

  “You think she’ll see me?”

  “Never know until you try, I guess.” He points to the path that leads to the cottage.

  Of course, she’s working. I start that way, slower than normal, but I ditched the cane six days ago. Hudson’s voice catches me before I get too far.

  “I’m pulling for you, man.”

  It’s something, though I don’t know if he’d still say it if he knew the news I’m bringing. Ten steps down the path I regret ditching the cane. My leg aches where the beam caught me. Looking to the south it’s not hard to spot the construction crew working on the old auditorium. Knocking it down, or building it up, I can’t tell, but if I had to guess, I’d wager Ace would flatten it and salt the earth.

  A sharp whistle splits the air. My nerves go raw, reaching for a gun that isn’t there. But Ace’s laughter slows my racing heart.

  “Still a little on edge?” Resting on a bench under a tree, the Cartwright patriarch cocks an eyebrow. Pieces of his rifle cover the table in front of him.

  “Can you blame me? Last time I was here I was nearly blown to bits.”

  “Not bits, maybe halves or quarters. How’s the leg?”

  “Sore. But I’ll recover.” I motion at his gun and cleaning supplies. “Were you expecting me?”

  “Happy coincidence.” Ace tries to keep his features tight, but a smile tugs at his eyes. “Vic never cleans these after she shoots. Always expects her dad to clean up her mess. You’d think they’d grow up.”

  Looking down the sights, he adjusts one side before he checks it again. I chew on my words, knowing I have one chance to make things right with him.

  “My dad taught me to shoot when I was a kid. Did you teach your kids?”

  Ace draws in a breath and lets it out with a rumble from his chest. “Sure tried. Vic, she picked it up real fast. She was out hunting with me by the time she was seven. And Hudson, he’s got bravery, and a little talent. Whole lot more luck.”

  “And Kennedy?”

  Ace laughs to himself. “Kenny, she’s not one for violence. She’s like her mama. Tender, careful, cautious.” He eyes me over the gun. “She’s not made for danger.”

  “I know.” That truth has been eating away at me for days. “I never meant—”

  “That girl was in over her head long before you ever showed up,” Ace raises a hand to stop me, “I told her to stay away from that club and what does she do? She makes it her typical Thursday night. In reality, Roman, having you around was the best thing that ever could have happened to her.”

  For once he used my name. I do my best to hold his stare, even when it feels like it’s burning right through me.

  “You mean what you said? You fell in love with her?”

  “Yes, sir.” Where that puts us, I don’t know, but it feels good to admit it.

  “You swear you’ll always put her first? You’ll keep her safe?”

  “I swear.” I shake my head. “I don’t know if any of it matters. Last we talked, she wasn’t real keen on seeing me again.”

  Ace locks the barrel back into the housing, a sly grin plastered on his face. “You know how women are, one second they want one thing, and the next minute it’s a new darn thing. Never know unless you talk to her, I wager.”

  “And you, sir? You didn’t seem happy about someone my age dating your youngest daughter. You’re not gonna shoot me in the back if I start out for that cottage? Hudson has informed me you have pigs, and no one will ever find a body.”

  A full belly laugh seeps from Ace’s chest. “That boy, he’s too much like his father. Whole lotta talk. We sold the pigs two years ago. No, I’ve never shot a man in the back, and I’m not planning to start today.”

  “What if she wants to—”

  “If she wants you, if she decides she can handle this life you’re choosing,” Ace’s thick shoulders bounce once, “I won’t stand in the way of love and her happiness. Kennedy has always been mature beyond her years. I guess this shouldn’t surprise me.”

  The bench groans as he pushes back. Without another word, he heads for the house. I draw in a breath and blow it out between tight lips. Approval from her father is one thing, approval from Kennedy is another.

  I start off on the path again, my limp more pronounced than before. I’ve gone over what I want to say a hundred times and in a hundred different ways, but the variables are too vast. Every step closer to the cottage is a tick down to her final answer on the subject, and my heart won’t relax knowing what might be coming.

  I count to ten outside the cottage before I turn the knob and step inside. The kitchen smells like a bakery at peak hours. Victoria must be stress cooking to take the edge off. Every counter boasts a sweet of some kind. Cupcakes, macaroons, cookies, candies, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s single-handedly given her family diabetes.

  “Roman?”

  Kennedy’s clipboard clatters to the ground. I hurry to grab it for her, but she stoops first and pins it in her hands.

  “I wasn’t expecting you. I figured you were—” she looks away before she finishes, “gone.”

  “I was back in the
area. I wanted to check in on you.”

  Not a total lie.

  The bruises haven’t faded, but she’s managed to lessen them with makeup. Her left eye is open again, albeit still puffy. Red tinges her wrists, but at least they aren’t bleeding. Despite all that, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  “I’m managing. Trying to get back into things.” She motions to her open office door. “We had a wedding last weekend. I had to let Vic run things. She chased a bridesmaid around the pond for insulting her food. I figured it was time to get back to it. Ready or not.”

  I crack a smile imagining her sister bearing down on some sorority brat. “I’d run if Vic got mad at me too.” I step closer. She doesn’t move away. I take it as a positive sign. “You look good, Kennedy.”

  She turns her cheek away from me as if to hide. “You lie well, Roman. I almost believed you.” She crosses my path to move to the kitchen. “You want a cookie or something? Victoria has been stressed about something. She won’t tell me anything, other than to say she’s making some big decisions. I took a load down to the homeless shelter yesterday, just to return and find she’d at least doubled what I’d donated.”

  A cookie doesn’t interest me, only her, but I don’t know where I stand. I rest my hands against the island for support, frustrated that once more she’s put it between us.

  “I’m sorry for everything that happened, Kennedy. If I could go back and do it all again, I’d do it differently.”

  Her hand floats over the cookies, passing up the chocolate dipped one for a vanilla crème. Her shoulder shifts, a mini shrug, as if she isn’t sure she wants to commit to it.

  “I wouldn’t.”

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  “What?” Roman starts to come around the island but thinks better of it. “What’d you say?”

  “You said you’d do it all differently.” I catch my healed lip between my teeth before I let it slip out. “I wouldn’t.”

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “No.” I stack a few chocolate chip cookies before I knock them over. “I mean, that’s how we got to this point, isn’t it? If I changed something, we might not end up here.”