Page 23 of Diamonds (Aces Underground #2)

ALISSA

M addox jumps to his feet. “Mother, it’s been a charming visit as always. Let’s do it again in another ten years.”

Marty scowls and takes another drink from her bottle of wine. “Hopefully I’ll be dead by then.”

“Always looking on the bright side.” He turns to me. “Ready?”

I stand up slowly, turn to Maddox’s mother. “It was lovely to meet you, Marty.”

She rolls her eyes. “No need to lie on my account, honey. I know you can’t wait to leave.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I just turn toward the door.

Maddox rushes ahead and—of course—opens it for me. We step out into the cloudy day.

“Where to next?” I ask him. “You told me to take the whole day off from work.”

“We need to figure out where our friends from the symphony live.” He glances at my purse. “You said you found their Facebook profiles?”

“I did.” I grab my phone out of my bag and pull up the app. “I found his wife’s. I don’t know if Mr. Gimble has one.”

“Google them. If they’re registered voters, you should be able to figure out their home address.”

I pull up my search app and type in Wade Gimble , Illinois voter registration.

A people-finding website pulls up. I click on a few links. I have to close out a few popups, but then I get a home address.

I show it to Maddox. “Looks like he and his wife live in Winnetka.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of fucking course they do.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Winnetka is a ritzy suburb,” Maddox explains. “You’ve seen the movie Home Alone, right?”

I nod.

“The house the film takes place in? That’s in Winnetka. A lot of the homes in the area are like that.”

“I’d think he’d live in a mansion if he’s a member of Aces, not to mention a high-ranking donor to the symphony.”

He looks at my phone and enters the address into his GPS app. “Looks like we have about a twenty-minute drive ahead of us.” He holds the door to the Rolls-Royce open. “After you.”

We pull out of Maddox’s mom’s neighborhood and merge onto I-94. Maddox starts the radio. A soothing piece featuring strings and woodwinds is playing.

“You know this one?” Maddox asks.

“I think so.” I close my eyes. “It’s Debussy. His Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. Basically the beginning of Impressionist music.”

“Meaning?”

“Music took a turn toward the end of the nineteenth century. The composers of France especially started writing more ethereal music in that era.”

“Got it.” Maddox keeps his eyes on the road. “Debussy… Debussy… He wrote Clair de lune , right?”

“He did.” I smile at Maddox. “Where did you learn about that piece?”

“Give me a little credit.” He chuckles. “I’d heard a few classical pieces before you walked into my shop.”

“Of course. I was just worried…” I purse my lips.

“Worried about what?”

I look down. “It’s silly.”

“What?”

“Well, I was going to say I was worried that your only exposure to Clair de lune was from watching the Twilight movie, but I realized that sounded frightfully judgmental.”

He bursts out laughing. “It might shock you to hear this, but I’ve never seen the Twilight films.”

“Then my original sentiment stands.”

Maddox eyes my phone. “Do we have anything more on the Gimbles? Were you able to pull up any information from the wife’s Facebook profile?”

I pull up the Facebook app. “I requested her as a friend, but I figured she’d reject it anyway.” I open my notifications. “Actually, she did accept my friend request. That’s strange.”

“She’s probably one of those old people who just lets anyone add her,” Maddox says. “Lots of people of her generation don’t quite understand how social media works.”

I sigh. “I’d pay good money to be completely ignorant of social media.”

“Fair enough. Anything on her profile?”

I click on her profile and scroll. “Looks like she’s been married to Wade for thirty-five years… Oh! Here’s a photo of the two of them from the symphony gala last fall. Looks like they have at least two kids and…” I widen my eyes.

“What?”

“She sits on the hospital board. The board of my hospital. St. Charles.” I turn to Maddox “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“What?”

“I learned from Dr. O’Rourke—Harrison, your friend—that Rouge is also on the hospital board.”

He drops his jaw. “Wait, at your hospital?”

“Yeah. And I was going to tell you, but I was worried that you…” I swallow.

“That I would what?”

“That you’d insist I stop working at the hospital. That it wouldn’t be safe for me to stay there.”

He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Finally, “I suppose that’s fair. But now that I think it over, you working at the hospital is a perfect cover to look into Rouge. And maybe Mrs. Gimble, if we find any reason to.”

“But what if it’s a false lead? They could both just be sitting on the board because it’s something rich people do.”

He shakes his head. “If there’s one thing I know about Rouge, it’s that everything she does is meticulously calculated.

If she’s sitting on the hospital board, there’s a reason.

” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It might be something as simple as rubbing elbows with doctors who might make good members of the club. Or it could be something darker. Something related to May. Maybe they’re disposing of the bodies after Rouge has their heads and hands removed, for instance. ”

My blood freezes in my veins.

Not only because of the implication that Rouge might be doing something awful. We’re already ninety-nine percent sure that’s the case.

But that there are connections we’re not seeing. Invisible lines between the scant dots we’ve been given.

Maybe the Gimbles will help us draw one of those lines. Or maybe it’s another dead end.

The peaceful Debussy streaming through the radio speakers does nothing to ease my nerves as we make the rest of the drive to Winnetka. Finally, we pull up to the house.

Maddox wasn’t kidding. These houses are huge.

All of them would easily pull in several million dollars in today’s market.

The Gimbles’ house is the biggest on the block.

Red-brick exterior lined with arched windows with classic white trim.

A stone pathway leads to the front double door painted in a regal shade of purplish brown.

Maddox parks the car a half block away. As always, he gets out quickly enough to open my door.

You’d think I’d grow tired of it, but it’s nice being treated like a lady no matter what the circumstances.

I get out, and he grabs my hands and looks into my eyes, piercing me with his gaze.

“No matter what happens,” he says, “do as I say. I promise I’ll protect you. Just follow my lead.”

I swallow. “Of course. Whatever you say.”

He kisses my forehead. “Great.”

What possible harm could come to us? We’re visiting a couple in their later middle ages. It’s not as if we’re trying to confront Rouge and her Kings head on.

Or is it?

My heart pounds. Maddox must feel it, because he wraps his arm around me and whispers in my ear. “As long as you’re with me, everything will be okay.”

I take in a deep breath and sigh it out. “Thank you.”

This man is so warm. And so strong. Both in equal parts. It’s hard to find a man who strikes that balance so perfectly.

I’ll never find another man like Maddox Hathaway.

And I don’t intend to try.

We walk up to the door and Maddox rings the bell.

A moment later, a young woman with long dark hair answers the door. “Yes?”

Maddox flashes her a smile. “Is this the Gimble residence?”

The young woman frowns. “May I ask who’s asking?”

“Joe and Frida Manx,” Maddox says without hesitation. “We’re friends of theirs from the symphony. My wife and I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by to say hello.”

The housekeeper—I assume—softens her stance a touch. “Oh, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Gimble adore the symphony.” She peers inside the house. “I’m afraid Mrs. Gimble is out to a society tea, though I’m sure you’re already aware of that. But Mr. Gimble is in.”

“Would you mind getting him for us?” I ask. “We won’t be a moment.”

Uh-oh. Frida Manx probably doesn’t have a British accent. Oh, well. Mr. Gimble will realize we’re not the Manxes the moment he opens the door anyway.

I’m not sure what we’ll do then.

Maddox said to follow his lead, and that’s what I’ll do.

“I’ll see if he’s available.” The housekeeper disappears into the house.

“Where did you come up with those names?” I whisper.

“They were in the program. You said them out loud while you were looking through donor names.”

“My God. That’s quite a memory you have.”

Maddox shrugs. “You don’t forget a last name like Manx very easily.”

“What’s the plan?” I ask. “Are you assuming that he only knows the Manxes by name alone and won’t recognize that we aren’t them?”

He cracks a small smile. “That would be the convenience of the century, but no, that’s not the plan.”

“But what is the?—”

Maddox places a finger to his lips. I shut my mouth and return my gaze to the door.

The housekeeper has returned. She smiles at us. “Mr. Gimble will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Maddox says. “And what was your name?”

“I’m Kendra. The housekeeper. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Manx.”

Maddox nods. “Of course.”

Kendra leaves the doorway and within seconds a tall man in a gray suit walks into the frame. The scowl outlined by his graying goatee is the same as when he was looking at us last night at the symphony.

“Who the hell are you?”

Quick as a flash, Maddox reaches inside his jacket and draws out a gun.

My heart leaps into my mouth, and I gulp.

Maddox places the pistol against Mr. Gimble’s forehead.

“We’d like a few words with you.”