Diamond Soldiers

by Pinki Parks

Keisha instantly isolated Hunter’s deep husky voice from the other two and forced herself to not react to it as she set the percolator back on, “Suit yourselves.”

  “Ma’am, do yo-”

  “Keisha, please,” the young woman sighed as the beginning of a headache started behind her eyes, “Ma’am makes me feel old.”

  “Keisha then,” Agent Thomas said, “Please, we need you to think. Our tech people are combing through your records of your company. Do you have any suspicions that any of your employers would do something like this?”

  A slight shot of indignation crossed Keisha’s mind at the assumption that any of her people would do such a thing. “No, my employees, they’re good people; none of them would try to harm me.”

  “Oh please,” Hunter scoffed, “They’re the first people who would throw you to the dogs.”

  Once again Keisha had to stop the rampant leap of arousal surging in her throat at the sound of his voice and bravely met his eyes, “Cynical much?”

  Hunter’s eyes were steady, “Not cynicism; experience.”

  "So, there's no one you can think off?" Agent Thomas said, "No one at all?"

  Hearing the soft bubbles of the coffee behind her Keisha said, “Sir, every person in my firm has gone through a series of background checks. Not one of them has any crime in their history, not even a juvenile shoplifting one.”

  “So, since that’s out,” Jack said, “What about other people, old friends, neighbors anyone you associate with- family members perhaps?”

  “I am an only child; my mother has no siblings and the younger brother on my father’s side had died a few years ago. I have no cousins or relatives I know off.”

  Agent Thomas grimaced slightly, “That must be hard.”

  Stepping back to her kitchen Keisha released the pot and poured some of the aromatic brew into her empty cup, “You have a family, Agent?”

  “A wife and two eight-year-old girls, twins, and a son on the way,” Dirk admitted with an undertone of pride.

  “That’s admirable,” Keisha said while spooning in creamer and sugar, “What about you Mr. Nichols?”

  “I’m a widower actually and my daughter just had her first child," Jack said evenly.

  “My condolences and congratulations,” Keisha said with compassion, “And what about you Mr. Blake, wife or children?”

  Hunter laughed quietly, “Neither, and I stick to solely practicing, thank you.”

  Keisha almost snorted in her coffee at the sour eye Agent Thomas gave the younger cop.

  "Like I said," Keisha sighed and shot a look at her wall clock, "I have no idea how this happened. I run a tight ship and all my records are documented. Is there a possibility that I might have gotten hacked?"

  “It’s a possibility,” Thomas admitted, “One we are looking into. But besides all this, can we get your assurance that you will stay in contact while the investigation is going on?”

  “Of course,” Keisha added then walked to her purse and grabbed a pen and her business card and scribbled out her private number. “Here, you can always contact me.”

  Thomas took the card with a nod, “Thank you for your cooperation, we’ll be in touch.”

  “Sure," She nodded as the men walked away. Just outside the door, Hunter turned to her and Keisha felt that quickening of her pulse once more. Hunter's green eyes looked directly into hers with that searching look and Keisha pulled up the strength lying in the bottom of her gut and met his look boldly.

  After a moment Hunter’s eyes met Kiesha’s, “Just want to warn you, don’t trust anyone. If you get any threatening phone calls or notes call us. If you spot anyone tailing you, take the plate or drive straight to the station. Criminals like these when they found out they’ve been made get nervous and act impulsively. Don’t trust anyone.”

  Keisha nodded slowly, “Just so you know, I have a Glock 19 and I know how to use it.”

  Hunter laughed quietly with glimmering eyes, “I’m sure you do.”

  She rested her hip on the side of the door frame and crossed her arms under her bust, a move that accented her assets, and then allow some of her hair fall over her left eye, giving a mysterious air, “But if anything, else, can I call you?

  The man’s eyes didn’t miss the motions and the edges of his lips tugged to a smirk, “I’m not some kind of knight-in-shining-armor, but I’ll do my best.”

  Unconsciously, Keisha’s eyelids slipped down and she gave him a coy smile, “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  Chapter 2

  One of the best privileges of being the boss of your own firm was that you didn’t have to answer to anybody, and that was what Keisha used to walk into her office after eleven thirty.

  As she firmly strode into the wide, minimalist and air-conditioned lobby of Shafie, - Arabic for ‘intercessor'- Incorporated, dressed sharply in dark but classy power suit, the young woman's mind was split into thirds.

  The first portion was filled with trying to fathom who in hell had gotten her information. Facts about her permissive enough to open an account, and then have the gall to use it and launder money! She kept her cool, as always. The second was that she was really taking account of what Hunter had said; that the people in her firm could be the ones to betray her, even though that was a low possibility, and the last part of her mind was secured on Hunter himself.

  As her mind ran over the man she had to stop, place a hand on the nearest wall and breathe. The very thought of his sculpted face made a deep shiver run through her body so severe that her body was very near to trembling.

  Her mental eyes recalled his chiseled face; his slender nose, firm lips and a firmer jaw, but goddamn it all, his eyes. His emerald eyes, especially hooded, were unfathomable, mistrustful, all-enveloping but overall, insanely alluring at the same time.

  Keisha pressed two fingers to the left temple as her logical mind castigated her. Why was she feeling this way? It felt too much like a virgin fourteen-year-old girl tripping head-over-heels on her first crush.

  Damn it, she was no fourteen-year-old girl and she was definitely no virgin. So, what if the man had the most potent animal magnetism she had felt from the day she knew what pheromones were; that didn’t mean a damn thing.

  Straightening her spine Keisha crossed the deep green carpeted hallway and after nodding to the receptionist took the elevator. On the floor above she entered the common workspace of her firm and almost bumped into Lila.

  Lila was her executive P.A; a young Indonesian woman fresh out of college but with a mind that was quick like a whip. The twenty-two-year-old had applied for an internship but upon seeing her capabilities, Keisha herself had promoted her.

  “Ms. Al-Habar?” Lila asked pushing her rimless glassed up a bit with her hand that wasn’t occupied by a cup of coffee, “Are you just coming in?”

  “Yes, Lila,” Keisha nodded as she scanned the room, “And what did I tell you about the Ms. Al-Habar thing?”

  The brunette flushed a bit and tugged down her new maroon blazer, "I'm sorry Keisha, hello, good morning."

  "Same to you," Keisha replied, "Lila, advance notice, I'll be in my office working on a private problem so please don't disturb me unless it's absolutely necessary."

  Lila nodded, "The don't disturb ‘Z.A.P' code. Sure, I understand, but you might be aware of Hank, he's in one of his…um, moods."

  Keisha's eyes rolled, "When is he not in a mood? He was the one to make the code in the first place, how the hell he came up with the don't disturb the boss lady unless it's a ‘Zombie Apocalypse or a call from the President', I will never know."

  “I’ll spread the word,” Lila said then went over to her desk, just outside of Keisha’s office.

  Following her steps, Keisha nodded her greetings to anyone who met her eyes and then entered her office.

  The rectangular room, just like the lobby and the trading floor, was done in an elegant and minimal style; clean lines and flat surfaces all around. De
cked out in a décor of onyx, muted silver, and warm mahogany wood, Keisha took this room as the center of her universe.

  It was where all her formidable mental processes happened and where she felt most at home. Inside, she immediately locked the door behind her. Then, settling her Dior handbag and matching briefcase on the wide dark brown wooden desk Keisha tapped her Yoga awake.

  The first thing she was going to do was raise hell with her accountant in Personal Accounting Consolidate. She sat at her desk and buzzed for her assistant, to dial Carmen Kelly.

  “Good morning, Carmen Kelly of PAC speaking.”

  “Carmen,” Keisha said in a voice as warm as a Greenland iceberg’s, “Keisha Al-Habar here, I’d really like to know how you haven’t alerted me to a new account at the BOA in my name. Don’t you monitor my credit?”

  A pronounced pause was between them until the accountant said in an admirably even tone, “I’m sorry, I have no idea what account you’re referring to. Please, elaborate.”

  “This morning, three men showed up at my doorstep, one from the FBI White Collar crimes to inform me that an account in my name is being used for money laundering.”

  “And when was that account opened?” Carmen replied professionally.

  “Five years ago, on June 13, 2012,” Keisha replied tightly, “And before you state the obvious that I acquired you as my accountant after the fact, wasn’t there any way you could have found out about this?”

  “I’m sorry Keisha,” Carmen said soothingly, “A credit check doesn’t catch really everything. Even with a current credit monitor active for you, an account can be opened without our system catching it. We’ll do everything in our power to sort this out.”

  Even though a little mollified Keisha still felt irritated, “Thank you, and please hurry, it is imperative that you find out who did this to me. You should know all the ramifications that I might have to face.”

  “We do,” Carmen replied, “I’ll get on it right away and thank you for putting this to our attention.”

  “Alright then, goodbye,” Keisha hung up feeling the soft thuds of a headache at her temples.

  Keisha slumped in her seat and a wry thought ran through her head; this lady knew how to diffuse a situation better than a trained bomb squad agent and as the moments passed she felt all the fire slowly leave her.

  “Well,” she sighed, “That’s one down.”

  The next was to inform her lawyers of what happened and hopefully they’d find some kind of solution to her nightmare.

  “Anderson and Associates, Paxton speaking, how may I help you?”

  In short and succinct words Lila requested, on behalf of Keisha, to speak with Leighton Anderson himself and was granted and she was connected in a few moments.

  “Hello, Leighton speaking.” The smooth baritone of the seasoned law practitioner said through the line.

  “Leighton,” Keisha sighed, “Thank god. I need your help.”

  The next five minutes passed with her outlining what had happened and she ended with a strenuous declaration stress level.

  “I just don’t know what the hell is going on.” She sighed at the end of her spiel.

  “Keisha,” Leighton said curtly, “I’m glad you informed me. From now on, do not speak to anyone on this matter except me, or anyone from my office. If this has been slipping under their noses for so long I’ll bet my left arm that some eager prosecutor is going to jump on this case. We’ll be ready for them.”

  “Thank you.” She added softly.

  “And don’t worry about it,” Leighton replied, “We’ll work this out. I’ll represent you myself.”

  At that she frowned slightly, “But you aren’t a criminal defense lawyer.”

  She was gifted with a low laugh, "You don't know all the hats I wear. What I need you to do is make a list of anyone you can think of that might have or had access to do this and send it to me. I'm sure they will be requesting some names very soon."

  A few more words and they parted company; Keisha then turned to a filing cabinet and couldn't hold back a grimace.

  It went against her nature and though she felt like a traitor, she had to be sure, so she was going to go over the records of all her employees. Even though she felt that she knew all her people well enough to give them the power of the doubt her reputation and life was on the line. She couldn’t allow anything to slip by her now so she walked down to HR, to the row of silver file-cabinets at the other end of the room.

  Taking the files of her entire team out she sorted them out by occupation; there were nine brokers; three advisory ones, Norman, Jane and Ethan, four execution brokers, George, Kayla, the previously mentioned Hank and Janet and two discretionary brokers, Dane and Carroll and the last employee was, Lila, her P.A.

  Settling into her desk with a notepad and a pen she decided that one way or another, she was getting to the bottom of this.

  *****

  Four hours later Keisha, after going over the information thrice, the words of every file clogged her head felt and her tender cranium felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She had gone through the files of every single employee, even to ancillary staff, and there were no red flags anywhere.

  As the hours passed she had tentatively had made a list of her government auditors, her courier service and the owner of her condo to send to Leighton. There were more she could put down but she needed a break.

  Feeling both stifled and stymied Keisha felt like the walls of the room were closing in on her and knew that she had to get some fresh air or she’d go crazy. Grabbing her purse, she notified Lila about her departure and Keisha left her office only to hear Hank call out to her.

  Stopping in her tracks, Keisha waited patiently until the blond-haired paraplegic wheeled to her. Every day Keisha was stunned with awe how Hank, lame at sixteen after a devastating car accident, overcame every obstacle thrown his way.

  To prove his worth Hank had trained for and then participated in the Paralympics Olympics at nineteen and after getting crowned with a silver medal he had gone on to college to peruse a degree in Economics.

  The twenty-eight-year-old was usually even-tempered but when he was annoyed his scathing remarks cut to the bone and he was brutally straightforward; a fact proved by the flash of his ice blue eyes when he spoke.

  “Keisha,” Hank said evenly, “Would you please inform the media, the state watchdogs and our diverse clientele that we are just as human as they are and mistakes are made even after careful analysis and recommendation of the purchase of various IPO’s.”

  An understanding and commiserating look settled on Keisha's face, "The MaXex complainants' again?"

  "Yes," Hank said stiffly, his jaw working with visible effort to control his words, "I cannot indulge these…. children that refuse to do their own homework before investing. We can suggest to them where to put their money, but I'm pretty damn sure we don't hold a gun to their heads."

  Laughing softly, Keisha nodded, “Give me a list of the inventors and I’ll send an e-mail to them explaining the situation that though we monitor their financial activity, we don’t have control over what the Arabs do with their oil.”

  “Thank you,” Hank nodded before he executed a controlled turn and went back to his station.

  Shaking her head Keisha left the building and got into her SUV. For someone of her financial status she could have easily gotten a sleek Mercedes or streamlined Porsche, but instead, she had opted for a comfortable Lexus GX 460. It was both comfortable and useful in every situation. It was classy enough to go to the Opera with and durable enough to run over a rough-cut mountain track.

  Luckily, the smooth streets of Mecklenburg had medium traffic as it was hours before rush hour and she easily navigated her way to the nearest Caribou Coffee.

  Stepping inside the establishment she liberally inhaled the scent of premium roasted coffee beans and the mingled smell of toasted bagels and sweet flaky pastries; overall, the whole s
oothing ambiance just settled her.

  She did a cursory glance around the room and noted that settled in the couches and chair of the lounge were the usual writers with their laptops open and a couple of book readers, settled in their chairs and sipping hot chocolate or smooth coffee. Then there were the student groups of three and four around larger tables armed with their books and having quiet conversations among themselves.

  Thankfully, the ordering counter was empty and she had no trouble ordering a tall double shot Original Baileys Irish Coffee with extra whiskey and chocolate shavings on the top and a blueberry muffin.

  After paying and moving to the serving counter Keisha placed her forearms on the counter and leaned on them while her spine making a smooth curve. Her hair fell over her left shoulder as she watched the barista make her drink only to hear a deep voice behind her.

  “Irish Coffee… you really are a ball-buster, aren’t you?”

  Keisha went still as her mind realized who was it was, and after she had gotten her bearings she allowed her lips to form a small smile. Gently levering herself up to take her drink and wrapped treat she casually turned around to meet Hunter's enigmatic eyes.

  "What gave you the idea I was anything but?" Keisha asked the cop sibilantly as her eyes traced over him. This time he was dressed in knife seamed black pants, a dark blue collared shirt and a thin black tie with a slightly loosened knot.

  “And what are you doing here anyway?” Keisha added tilting her head to the right, “Shouldn’t you and the assiduous Agent Thomas be hunting down the son of a bitch that had the nerve to steal my name?”

  “I assure you, we’re going through everything about you that we have with a fine-toothed comb, and if I’m any judge of character, you’re doing the same on your end, but to answer your question, I’m on my break,” Hunter replied easily holding his cup marked ‘E3’, code for triple espresso, “Cop shop coffee is nothing better than pig sludge so I decided to get something that could actually keep me awake.”

  “Had a long night officer?” Keisha asked as she moved to a bar stool.