Queen of Hearts

by Jami Denise

  As I kneeled down, my knee dug into a rock, and I groaned. It hurt like a bitch, and I bit down on my fist to stifle the wail I wanted to let out.

  “You hear something?” one of them questioned.

  I stilled, forcing every muscle in my body to seize while I waited for them to catch me. It didn’t happen. Moments later, I heard chattering again and their footsteps as they went back inside.

  “I’m going to have a heart attack,” I said to myself.

  Climbing back onto my feet, I slithered toward the door where Vince had gone inside. If he could get in, so could I.

  The steps creaked with each step I made, and I cringed. The boldness I’d felt earlier was fading. Without Vince to guide me, I wasn’t sure what to do once inside.

  I turned the knob, and luckily it opened quietly and quickly. I slipped inside and stood back against the opposite wall and took in the room. I didn’t see Vince, so he’d obviously gotten through the room and into another without being discovered. I walked west through the house and found a door standing halfway open. It was dark inside, so I slipped through the crack and quietly shut the door behind me.

  Pressing my ear against the wood, I listened for anything that would give me a clue as to what was going on. My hand went to the back of my pants and I gripped the gun I’d shoved there.

  I heard a rustling behind me and spun around, pointing my gun out in front of me.

  “I know you have a listening problem, but I’m starting to think you are hard of hearing.”

  I gasped.

  Flynn.

  I lowered the gun and tried to catch my breath. I felt around in front of me until I found his chest. “How did you know?”

  He chuckled and pressed his finger against my lips. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours. I knew when I couldn’t get a hold of you and Vince that you two were up to something.”

  “Where’s Kelsey?” I felt all over his chest, his arms, down his back. I couldn’t stop touching him, or thanking God that he was alive. “Vince already got inside.”

  He nodded. “He sent me a message about ten minutes ago.”

  I pinched his nipple. “You were waiting for me!”

  “Shhh,” he whispered harshly. “You’ve got to stay quiet. My dad is in the other room.”

  “Kelsey?” I mouthed the words, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I didn’t trust my voice to stay as low as a whisper. I was too pumped up.

  He pointed behind me. “She’s safe. She’s in the other room, and Vince has an eye on her. No one will touch her. I have the door locked.”

  “So what are they doing?”

  They’d been there awhile, and I couldn’t believe Doyle was just chilling out, going with the flow. No, that guy had an agenda.

  “They’re waiting for a call from Kristine. The FBI will have her contact Kelsey via cell phone, and then we’ll go from there.”

  My stomach dropped. “I’m afraid.”

  He held my face, kissing my forehead. “Just stay put, and it’ll be okay. I don’t want you to leave this room. I’m already going to be distracted knowing you’re in here. Don’t need you in the line of fire.”

  He dropped another kiss on the top of my head and walked to the door. “I mean it,” he said, turning to face me again. “Stay put, and stay quiet.”

  I agreed and felt my heart sputter as he left the room. I hated that he was going to be in the same room as his father. I hated that Doyle was his father, period.

  The room I’d snuck into was some kind of pantry. There were shelves filled with cans and boxes and crates piled up on the floor. Everything seemed out of place and haphazard. I piled a couple crates up as quietly as possible and sat, not sure how long I would have to endure being closed up in there by myself.

  For a long time, I heard nothing. No movement, no voices... nothing. It started to freak me out. To take my mind off things, I picked at the chipped nail polish on my fingers. I needed a manicure, and thinking about that was better than the alternative. After a while, loud voices erupted, and I jumped off the crates and went to the door, ear to wood once again, and listened.

  I could clearly hear Doyle, and my heart sank.

  “Where are you hiding her? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out they were here?”

  I gulped and pressed my hand against my chest, trying to stop the panic. He knew we were there, and it was not going to go over well. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how he would take it. I was no threat to him, not compared to everything else he was facing.

  “Why are you being so paranoid? I brought the girl, didn’t I? Just wait for Kristine to call. You can get what you want, and I can get on with my life!”

  I heard Doyle order one of his men to grab Flynn, and I lost it. My hand was on the doorknob, and the force of my grip jostled it. I froze.

  “Just as I expected. That’s why you’re so worried about anyone going in there.”

  I lost my footing when the door crashed open. Light spilled into the dark room, and the tall figure of Doyle Maguire stood in the doorway. He glared, pure hatred spilling as he fixed his eyes on me.

  “You don’t know how to stay out of trouble, do you, whore?”

  I panicked and reached for my gun, only to remember I’d set it down near the crates. Backing up slowly, I kept my eyes glued on him while I tried to get to my piece.

  “Grab her and take her into the other room.”

  Two men walked in from behind him and came at me. I backed myself against the wall and screamed out for Flynn.

  Doyle cackled.

  “My own son,” he snapped. “Betrayed by my only son!”

  The men dragged me out of the small space and into the kitchen. I fought against them, kicking and hitting and trying to get my fingernails into them to make them let go. It was useless, obviously, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. We’d gotten about halfway through the hall when Flynn appeared with gun aimed.

  “Let her go.” His voice was calm—lethal. That darkness was back in his eyes. The cold, empty darkness of a man with everything to lose.

  “You didn’t have to hide your little woman in the closet, son. I assumed you were going to drag her along.”

  My eyes didn’t leave Flynn’s. All my faith, every ounce of trust was thrust into his hands. With our eyes locked, he told me silently that he had this. I had nothing to worry about.

  “Put the gun down, son. You’re not going to shoot me.”

  Flynn didn’t flinch. He crept forward until his father stepped forward and aimed his gun at my temple. “Put the gun down, or she’s done.”

  Flynn’s throat bobbed as he slowly lowered his arm, pointing the gun at the floor. “Let her come to me. She has nothing to do with this. I didn’t want to leave her behind.”

  Doyle chuckled. “For thirty years I’ve built a legacy for you, and what do you do? You shit on it and hand it over to a greedy bitch.”

  He shoved me forward, gun still at my head, and I stumbled into the door of another room. “Put her in there with the other girl and make sure she doesn’t make a sound.”

  He turned to Flynn. “If that bitch doesn’t call in the next half hour, both of them are dead. You hear me?”

  The door slammed behind me, and I staggered inside.

  “Jayne?”

  I looked over at the corner of the room where Kelsey was cowering on the bed. I flew toward her, grabbing her face in my hands and giving her a good once-over.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “They haven’t hurt me or anything. They’re just assholes.”

  I laughed through the onslaught of tears and hugged her against me. “Fuck, yes, they are.”

  “What are they going to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Kelsey. We just have to let Flynn handle this. I shouldn’t have come. I think I fucked it all up.”

  “Please tell me Vince is with you!”

  “Yes, he’s here. I don’t know where, but he’s here.”

 
; “Thank God.” She breathed out a sigh of relief and sat back on her heels.

  I took a moment to look around the room to see if there was any way to escape. The window looked easy enough, but knowing Doyle, it was rigged or something. I let go of Kelsey, pushed off the bed, and walked over to see if it’d budge. The frame was wood with a simple sliding locking mechanism.

  Piece of fucking cake.

  “Kelsey, come over here.”

  She jumped up, confusion in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  Shaking my head, I flipped the latch over and pressed my palms against the panes of glass to push it up and open. “I’m not doing anything. You are. I need you to climb out and run as fast as you fucking can.”

  I got the window to rise about six inches and had her put her arms through to see if she’d fit. “I’m not going to fit, Jayne!”

  “Get back!”

  She stood aside, and I braced myself to push harder to get the thing to open all the way. It was weather-beaten and the wood had swelled so it was tight and rough to move, but finally, I got a little leverage and pushed it up a few more inches.

  The friction was too much, and I lost my footing and slid across the floor, falling on my face and knocking over the contents of the dresser sitting next to it.

  “Go, Kelsey!” I hissed the words urgently. We only had moments before one of the thugs came in to see what the noise was, and she was standing there staring at me like she was in a trance. I didn’t have time for it, and neither did she.

  “Go!”

  She threw her legs over the sill and slid out just as the door flew open and men started rushing the room. I got up as fast as I could and stood in front of the open window, grabbing the lamp from the floor as I did so.

  It wasn’t very intimidating, but it was all I had.

  “Get back!”

  They weren’t armed, so I figured it was now or never. I tossed the lamp in their direction and started for the window. I’d just gotten one leg outside when a burning pain shot through my shoulder and I dropped to the ground, slamming my head against the hardwood floor.

  I remember screaming, and Flynn’s voice behind me, and then another shot.

  And then nothing.

  TWENTY-NINE

  I woke up several days later in a hospital bed with a bullet wound, a severe concussion, and Flynn at my side.

  He was hesitant to tell me all the details about what had happened, but eventually, he broke down and told me.

  I deserved to know.

  While I tried to escape through the window, Doyle fired a shot. Flynn took him out seconds later. As he recounted the events that led up to him killing his father, he never faltered. There was no regret. I’d worried for nothing.

  “The bastard never gave me anything. I wasn’t letting him take everything away from me.”

  I was the everything. His everything.

  Kelsey ran far enough away, and the authorities found her running down the driveway as they approached. Once they heard the gunshots, they rushed the cabin. I was grateful she’d gotten out of there when she did. If she would’ve been hurt, I never would have forgiven myself. None of us would have. Of everything Doyle had ever done, pulling an innocent girl into his corruption and sickness was about as low as it got.

  The rest of his cohorts were apprehended and dealt with by the authorities—at least the ones that got out alive. Between Flynn, Vince, and Collins, the clean-out involved more than five body bags.

  In other words—it was over.

  Vince took on the task of getting Kelsey home. I mulled that over, and honestly, I was sad I hadn’t been able to say goodbye to her. We’d gotten close, and I was going to miss her. I just hoped she’d keep in touch, but only time would tell. I only had bits and pieces of her life with her family, but from what I gathered, it didn’t seem like she wanted to leave Vegas. I wasn’t even sure she had a home to go back to.

  I worried how Vince would handle that whole situation. She was head over heels for him, and no matter how it came about, she had no control over her emotions. None of us did. I was proof of that. I only hoped he didn’t break her. Broken girls were hard to fix.

  “You ready, baby?”

  I turned from where I was staring out the window to face Flynn. He was in the doorway, my bag over his shoulder and his eyes tired. “Yeah.”

  I slid off the bed, careful not to jostle my arm in the sling and walked out to him.

  We were quiet as we walked out of the hospital. So much had happened, and we’d narrowly escaped in one piece. I knew how damn lucky I was that it hadn’t turned out worse.

  We were finally able to move on, to start a life. I’d tried that before, and I was wary of our outcome.

  Outside, he led me toward a large white SUV, opened the door, and lifted me into his arms. He sat me down, took a deep breath, and laid his forehead against mine.

  “Thank God you’re okay. I don’t know what the fuck I would’ve done if...”

  I pressed my fingers against his lips and smiled. “We don’t have to find out. Ever again.”

  “You got that right.”

  He kissed the top of my nose, took another deep breath, and pulled away. “Ready to go home?”

  I nodded. That was an understatement.

  I watched the scenery flash past as we drove, noticing that it was actually really beautiful up there. I had been too aggravated to pay attention before, but it was stunning.

  We continued down a highway for about a half hour before I turned to ask where we were going.

  “You’ll see. We’re almost there.”

  I had no idea where we were, or which direction we were supposed to be going, but by the tone in his voice, I knew we weren’t heading back to Vegas.

  “You’re not taking me back to that place! Are you crazy?”

  He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Let’s play a new game. I tell you what to do, and you listen. Whatta ya say?”

  I scowled. “I’m the injured one here. I’m pretty sure that means I get my way.”

  He shook his head and reached over, grabbing my hand. “I should’ve known you couldn’t do it—not even this one time.”

  I huffed, pissed off. “Whatever. I’ll just sit here like a good girl.”

  I could see the side of his mouth pull up in a smile from my periphery. Smug ass.

  We pulled off onto another road and drove through a huge iron gate. Ahead of us, there was a humungous ranch house. It was a gorgeous, honey-stained log cabin nestled beneath mountain ridges and surrounded by a running creek and land for as far as the eyes could see.

  “Where are we?”

  He didn’t answer, but I could see his smile grow the closer we got to the house. Close up, it was much more impressive. Detailed with river rock and neatly trimmed foliage, it looked more like a palace than a house.

  There were three stories, stacked and separated into distinguishable sections. I was in awe.

  He turned off the truck and sighed. “What do you think?”

  I shook my head slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Wait there,” he ordered.

  He hopped out of the truck, and I stared at the house as he jogged around the front to help me out.

  He lifted me out of my seat and carried me toward the house. “Who lives here? This is where we’re staying?”

  “I hope so,” he said softly.

  He took the steps two at a time, holding me steady, and stood in front of the door. He set me on my feet and followed suit, dropping down onto his knees and looking up at me.

  “I’d get down on one knee, but you deserve better. More. I’m begging. I’m a fucking beggar, and I will plead with God almighty if I have to. Marry me. I won’t stop asking, and I won’t stop wanting you to be mine. Forever.”

  I clutched my hand over my chest and felt a tear roll down my cheek. It was a moment I would never forget, a moment every little girl dreamed about—one I never in a million years thought I’d get. There
he was, on his knees, bowed to me, but there was no reason to beg. I would give him anything.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  His smile was a mile wide, the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Happier than I’d ever seen him, more relieved than living through his father’s evil. This was a new forever. This was real.

  “There’s more,” he said. His eye quirked, and I shook my head.

  “What?”

  “Marry me and leave everything. Leave it all behind. I want to start over. Here.”

  I cocked my head toward the house; my stomach fluttered like a flurry of hummingbirds had taken flight.

  “Here? This house? Here?”

  He nodded. “This house. Here.”

  I looked around me, breathed in the fresh air, admired the spacious property, and there was no question. My answer was yes.

  “But how?”

  I was a realist. How could he leave everything behind? I had nothing. No family, no career, no life, no money... nothing, but him. He was the Prince of Las Vegas. He was a man in demand, a celebrity gambler, notorious and sought out. He had the Casino, his mother, his life.

  “We’re going to try that game again. You let me handle it, and you don’t ask any questions. Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of you?”

  “Yeah, but...”

  I wasn’t convinced. What the hell would we do on a ranch? He wasn’t a damn rancher, and I knew Jack shit. I could fuck, and I could lie. Anything else was a crapshoot.

  “No buts. I’m sure if you think real hard, you’ll realize neither of us has to do anything. We could live the rest of our lives on what’s in my bank account at this very minute without a worry. If I could hand a pretty girl a million bills to have dinner with me, I could throw down a few more to take her to dinner for the rest of our lives.”

  I took that in. Money. Yeah, he had plenty of it. No doubt. Plus, he would inherit whatever was left from his father’s estate. Between him and Cherese, there was a billion or more dollars floating around under the name Maguire.

  Hell, he could’ve had a bag of peanuts for all I cared. He was mine for good, for real, and we were leaving Vegas.