Page 37 of Diamonds (Aces Underground #2)

MADDOX

A lissa finally agreed to come to the club. We got into the car, both soaking wet, of course, and made our way back to her apartment.

She took a shower first, and then I took mine.

We may or may not have overlapped showers briefly. I may or may not have been inside her for a portion of that time.

And then we dried off, put on some fluffy bathrobes, and lay together in bed.

We ended up taking a nap together. A long nap.

By the time I woke up, it was nearing five in the evening.

I gently roused her and told her I’d make us dinner.

Her kitchen was a little understocked, so I got creative.

I found a few bags of Earl Grey tea—the same tea we had in my shop when we met week before last—and put a pot on.

Then I put on a chef’s hat and took over.

I took a cup of the brewed tea and threw it in a saucepan, mixing it with Dijon mustard and a few tablespoons of honey, and let it reduce into a glaze.

I defrosted two chicken breasts in the microwave, seasoned them with salt, pepper, and thyme, and seared them on her stove. I poured the glaze—now thickened—over the chicken and let them simmer in the sauce. I added some minced garlic to the concoction to bring out a little extra flavor.

While the chicken finished cooking, I mixed up a salad of mixed greens, shredded carrots, cherry tomatoes, and a sherry vinaigrette. I also assembled a simple berry crumble which I’m now throwing into the oven as I call Alissa into the kitchen.

She walks in, taking a deep breath in through her nose. “It smells wonderful in here.” She raises an eyebrow. “Did you make tea as well?”

“I did.” I hand her a cup and saucer of Earl Grey. “I was going to make a pot since we enjoyed having tea together in my shop when we first met, but then I thought about using a cup’s worth to make a glaze for the chicken as well.”

She smiles. “How creative.”

“Hopefully it tastes good.” I dish each chicken breast onto its own plate and add a little salad to the side. I gesture to the oven. “The berry crumble should be ready by the time we finish up eating.”

We sit at the tiny table off her kitchen.

She takes a bite of the chicken. “It’s delicious. The bergamot in the tea brings in a citrusy element, which is evened out by the sweetness of the honey.”

“You have a good palate.” I take a bite myself. It’s pretty tasty. Almost like orange chicken from a Chinese restaurant, but with a much subtler flavor. “I guess I’ll be inviting Earl Grey to my kitchen more often in the future.”

“Do you cook a lot?” she asks.

I sigh. “I wish I did more of it. I really enjoy cooking. But usually I don’t have someone to cook for . So I end up eating a frozen dinner more nights than I care to admit.”

She reaches across the table, grabs my hand. “Well, you have someone to cook for now. And if it’s all as tasty as this chicken”—she wipes her mouth with a napkin—“I’ll always be happy to sit down to dinner with you.”

I can’t help grinning. I love this woman.

More than life itself.

I would gladly cook dinner for her—provide her comfort and sustenance—for the rest of my living days.

After dinner, Alissa goes into her bedroom to get dressed for the club while I wash the dishes. She emerges in the same little black dress she wore our second night to Aces, complete with the fedora she purchased.

It takes everything in me not to fuck her again right here and now.

Unfortunately, we don’t have time. The club will open soon, and I still need to get dressed myself.

We drive back over to my place—I’m starting to feel like a fucking ping-pong ball. The tuxedo from last night is a little wrinkled, but I own two more. I pair one with a crisp white button-down with black studs and cufflinks and complete it with a dark bow tie.

A classic look. There’s a reason it’s been the go-to style for decades.

I look great.

I’ll look even better next to Alissa in her sexy dress that clings to her gorgeous figure in all the right places.

She drops her jaw when I walk out of my bedroom.

“Maddox!”

I run my hand up the lapel of my jacket. “You’ve seen me in a tux before. Just last night.”

“I know, but…” She walks toward me. “You just look so… suave in this one. Like James Bond.”

“I’m afraid I do a terrible Sean Connery impression.”

She runs her fingers over my stubble. “I preferred Pierce Brosnan anyway.”

“Alissa…”

I crush my lips to hers.

Kissing this woman is almost better than fucking her.

Almost.

She breaks the kiss. “I’d really like to keep going, but we should probably head out.”

I nod, adjusting myself under my slacks. “You’re right.” I rake my gaze over her, narrowing my eyes. “After.”

“Of course.” She gives me one more kiss.

I cross over to the front door to open it for her.

She grabs a jacket—an ivory wool overcoat that contrasts with her dark dress—and buttons it. She beams at me as she walks past me out the door to my apartment. “Always the gentleman.”

“If I ever don’t hold a door open for you, the Maddox Hathaway you know and love is dead and gone.”

“Perish the thought.”

I close the door to my apartment and walk down the exterior stairs that lead to the parking lot behind my shop. We approach my car, and again I open the door for Alissa.

We make our way to Aces.

For what may be the final time.

* * *

Chet looks up from his pink desk as we walk into the Aces foyer. “Mr. Hathaway. Miss Wonder. We were wondering where you ended up last night.”

Alissa wrinkles her forehead. “What do you mean?”

Chet tents his fingers. “You left rather early in the evening. You said you’d be right back, that you were just getting a breath of fresh air.” He raises an eyebrow—already back to his normal shade of snow white. “You never returned.”

“Plans change.” I hand him my driver’s license. “Alissa will be my guest tonight.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t expect anything to the contrary.” He leers at Alissa. “It would appear you’ve truly captured Mr. Hathaway’s attention, Miss Wonder.”

She swallows. “I suppose I have.”

Chet, as always, is walking the narrow valley between weird and creepy.

I never understood why Rouge hired him to be the bouncer of her club.

Surely there was a better candidate for the job than Chester Tabbit.

Wait.

Chester. Tabbit.

C. T.

Could it be…?

“Chet, what’s your middle name?”

Chet twists his lips. “That’s a bit of a personal question, Mr. Hathaway. Whyever would you be asking?”

“I think you know why,” I say.

Alissa grabs my arm. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the damned question, Chet.”

His eyebrows bounce once, twice. “It’s Aristotle, Mr. Hathaway. My middle name is Aristotle.”

“Chester Aristotle Tabbit.” I reach into my wallet and pull out the folded-up riddle that led us to May’s head.

I gesture to the three letters at the bottom of the note, the ones that were erased but left enough of a mark to be deciphered.

“C.A.T. We thought this was an additional hint, that we were supposed to look for a statue of a cat or something, but it wasn’t. ”

“It wasn’t?” Chet asks.

“No. It was a signature. You signed this riddle with your initials but then thought better of it. You erased it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Hathaway.”

“Yes you fucking do. ” I push the piece of paper into his grinning mug. “You got this note to me. Probably when I pushed you up against the wall last weekend. You would have had pretty easy access to the inner pocket of my jacket.”

Chet cocks his head. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

Alissa gasps. “Oh my God.” She reaches into her purse, pulls out the small manila envelope with the playing cards in it. “Did you put these in my purse as well? When I left it open in the hospital?”

“You fucking creep. You followed my girlfriend to the place where she works?”

Chet lifts a bony finger. “You seem to be confused. I don’t leave this desk under any circumstances during my shifts here at Aces. How could I possibly place a few playing cards into a woman’s purse?” He focuses his gaze on Alissa. “You came straight here that very day, and I was here.”

She points at him. “You don’t know which day that was. I didn’t say.”

“It’s my job to know what day it was, Miss Wonder.”

“No.” I place my hands on Chet’s pink desk, lean over him—no easy feat since he’s at least six foot seven.

“You slipped up. First by writing your initials on this riddle, and then by revealing just now you knew which day the cards were left in Alissa’s purse.

You’re on our side. You want Rouge to go down for what she’s done just as much as we do.

” I dig into my pocket, fish out the ruby-encrusted key. “I bet you know where this goes, too.”

Chet widens his eyes. “Looks like you found your way down the river of tears, Mr. Hathaway.” He checks his watch. “Took you long enough, didn’t it? Your father has been dead for well over a decade.”

“Did he set this plan in motion with you?”

Chet darts his gaze around the room. “I have no interest in the schemes of a failed politician. With all due respect to the Hathaway legacy, of course.”

“Bullshit.” I slam my fists onto Chet’s tiny desk, making it shake. “He somehow got his hands on this key. You helped him do it. And then, when I was taking far too long to figure out his riddle, you slipped me a new one. You knew that if we knew what was going on with May?—”

“May?”

I roll my eyes. “The Seven of Spades. But stop playing dumb. You knew that once we found out what happened to May, it would light a fire under us. Finally get us to finish the work my father started right before he was poisoned.”

“It was my impression that your father died of a heart attack.”

“Once again, shut the fuck up. He was poisoned by Rouge, or one of her minions. He knew his days were numbered, so he set up a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow.”

Chet wrinkles his nose. “Those breadcrumbs must be pretty stale after a decade of being strewn about.”

“Save your quips, Chet.”

He stands with a start, his bald head nearly hitting the ceiling of the room. “Let us just assume that there is even a modicum of truth to your story, Mr. Hathaway. That key in your hand clearly opens something.”

“Yeah, and you know what it is, don’t you?”

“Am I meant to keep a record of every door and key in the world?”

“For God’s sake.” Alissa approaches Chet’s desk. “You knew what my bloody drink order was the other night.”

“Mr. Hathaway orders a gin and tonic every night he’s here. Has for several years now. And you clearly favor your dirty martinis, Miss Wonder. It was not illogical to assume?—”

I grab him by his blazer, once again revealing his purple nipples. “We’re done here, Chet. Tell me what this key opens, or I swear to God I’ll choke you to death.”

“I’ve never been to Rouge’s private quarters.” Chet’s grin widens. “But you have.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with?—”

But then I put Chet down.

That night, with Rouge.

The chalice of blood.

She pulled it out of a refrigerator.

And next to that refrigerator—I can still see it as clear as day—was a safe.

Inside that safe? Who knows? But if Rouge keeps blood in the refrigerator next to it, I can only imagine what kind of horrors she keeps locked away.

“The safe in Rouge’s private area behind her office.” I hold the key in my hand, catch the fluorescent lights of the foyer off it. “That’s what this unlocks.”

Chet sits back down, dusting off his pinstriped jacket.

“A key can unlock all sorts of things, Mr. Hathaway.” He leans forward, pierces me with his dark eyes.

“But some mysteries, once unlocked, can never be re locked. One should tread carefully.” He pulls out his big book of member names. “ID’s, please.”

This is all we’re going to get out of him. But I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I need to do tonight.

I guess it makes sense. He needs plausible deniability in case something goes south.

Alissa and I hand Chet our licenses. He, as always, asks Alissa if she is here as my guest, and then he unlocks the door leading to the mirrored staircase.

Like always, he locks the door behind us as we go down.

And my chest tightens as the deadbolt slides into place.

I know that if we need to get out, all we need to do is knock three times.

But I can’t shake the feeling that it might not be so easy to leave Aces Underground tonight.

I lean toward Alissa’s ear, my voice lowered. “We need to find a way to distract Rouge. Long enough for me to get into her office and see what the hell she has locked up inside that safe.”

She nods. “Could we spill something in the Spades section? Order a big flight of drinks and then throw them all on the floor? That would create a bit of a commotion.”

I scratch my chin. “The idea has merit, but Rouge would never busy herself with something as demeaning as cleaning. She’d have the servers attend to it and continue flitting about the club like she normally does.”

“Then what can we do?”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath in. “We have to hit her where it hurts. Her pocketbook.”

“How do you mean?”

I place my hand on the knob of the Green Door, turn it slightly. “We need to gamble. Back in the Diamonds section.” He offers me his arm. “A game, my Queen?”