Jack of Diamonds Read online

  Jack shook his head. “No, I should shut it down, especially now. If you could find Alice, anyone could.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Jack. The wedding site is only accessible to invited guests.” Marisa’s lovely eyes clouded with concern. “Wait. Is something wrong? Why are you concerned about someone finding Alice?”

  Jack told her everything, from responding to Donald’s call, to finding him unconscious on the floor, to seeing the wedding invitation pinned next to a sketch of Alice. It was a relief to share this heavy burden with someone he trusted. “It was a pencil sketch, high-quality. Almost as good as yours.”

  Marisa pressed her lips into a thin line. When it came to her artistic ability, she was as proud as she was insecure.

  “I said almost,” Jack stressed.

  She nodded. “Well, you know what they say about artists.” She drew the pause out for effect. “The best ones are insane.”

  Jack frowned. “This isn’t a time for joking.” Though he had to agree to some extent.

  Marisa grabbed his hand. “I’m not. I’ll never forget that Alice helped to save my life. I’m indebted to her, too, and I consider her a friend, Jack.”

  Jack squeezed her hand; it felt familiar in his own. “We’d better go find her so I can break the news to her.”

  He turned to go, but Marisa kept hold of his hand. “I do need you to understand something about us,” she said. Her face had turned serious. “And I explained all of this to Alice.”

  “You talked to Alice about us? Me and you? You and me?” Jack pointed back and forth between them in utter disbelief.

  She closed her eyes and her finger stroked the back of his hand. The simple gesture made Jack start to sweat.

  “What we had . . . I can’t just forget.”

  She opened her eyes, and Jack’s breath hitched in his throat. Marisa’s eyes drew him in and it was like snuggling down in a warm bed under a velvet blanket.

  “I was very honest with Alice,” she continued. “I told her that my feelings for you are unchanged, but I won’t act on them. I promise that I will do nothing to interrupt your wedding. However, if Alice changes her mind . . . or if you do . . . I want you both to know that I’m still in love with you, Jack Stratton.”

  Unable to look away, Jack fought the urge to bolt for the door. He gave Marisa’s hand another squeeze and let go. “You know there was a time when you and I had something very special. You kept me alive then. If it wasn’t for you, all the pain I was going through would have killed me. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But . . . I must be completely honest, Marisa. Your telling me this doesn’t change anything. I love Alice, and I’m going to make her my wife. I still love you, but I haven’t been in love with you for a long time.”

  Her expression gave away nothing. He waited for Marisa’s reaction, unsure if she was going to kiss him or slap him.

  “Tu sei il bello mio,” she whispered at last.

  Jack didn’t speak Italian but he knew what the phrase meant. Marisa used to say it to him often. You are my beautiful one.

  “I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Jack. You’re the most loyal man I know.” She smiled. “Part of me wants you to be happy. I want you and Alice to have a long life together in wedded bliss. But . . .” she stretched the word out, “you can’t blame me for letting Alice know that if she gets cold feet . . . well, mine are hot.”

  She angled her leg as she talked, and Jack found his eyes traveling from her open-toed high heels, up her toned calf, over her thigh, before locking eyes with her once more.

  “Do you want to catch a ride with me?” Marisa grinned as she picked the gloves off the coffee table. “Or would you prefer to follow?”

  Jack watched as she sauntered toward the front door. Marisa was the kind of woman who could wear an old sack with holes cut in it and still be the sexiest woman in the room. When she reached the door, she picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. The strap moved her hair to the side, and Jack noticed that she left one tattoo uncovered: a heart, closed with a golden combination lock.

  The combination was 2614.

  My old badge number.

  5

  Jack elected to follow Marisa, and he parked behind her car outside the photography studio. Several cars filled the parking lot, including the silver BMW that Jack had learned to hate the sight of—Erica’s car.

  “I thought it was weird that Alice had a dress fitting so late in the evening,” Jack grumbled as he joined Marisa on the sidewalk. “And why is it taking place at the photographer’s studio?”

  “Erica thought the space in the dress designer’s studio was too drab, so they created a small set for the photoshoot. According to Erica, it’s a ‘gorgeous Italian villa, absolutely to die for’!” Marisa did a spot-on impression of the wedding planner, waving her hands excitedly and mimicking her high-pitched voice.

  Jack chuckled—until he saw that Marisa wasn’t smiling. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No.” Her chocolate eyes fluttered. “Whoever this Pierce is, Erica certainly enjoys spending his money. She must be racking up quite a commission.”

  “Wait a second.” Jack stopped. “What do you mean, ‘whoever Pierce is’? I thought you were going to show him around Hope Falls. He said he was going up there.”

  Marisa shrugged. “He never showed. I got a polite email from his assistant saying that he had a ‘scheduling conflict.’”

  Jack stared in disbelief. He’d gone out of his way to set Pierce up with a woman most men would kill to have a chance with, and he stood her up?

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

  “Don’t be. I had no expectations. And from the way he’s throwing money around, I doubt we’d be a fit for one another.”

  That much was true. Marisa was a rare breed; her father, Severino Mancini, was the head of the Mancini crime family and worth millions, but money didn’t move her at all. Still, not many people would shrug off a date with a billionaire. Even Jack had to admit, Pierce was handsome as well—but he wasn’t going to tell Marisa that.

  “You’re one of a kind.” Jack gave her a wink, and she lit up. “His loss.”

  “Is he coming to the wedding?”

  “I assume so, since he’s paying for it all. He’s overseas right now.”

  Jack held the door open and followed Marisa inside. He immediately felt like he’d walked onto a movie set. Lights blazed down on the opulent scene. Large flash stands with shades behind them flanked both sides of the realistic photo backdrop of sun-kissed Tuscan hills and ancient olive trees through a mullioned window. The set was adorned with snow-white veils, roses and a small altar. He caught only a glimpse of the top of Alice’s head as she walked behind a huge spray of flowers.

  Jack spotted Shawna Hammond bustling about with a clipboard and a pen. Today her hair was in a thousand glistening black braids gathered in a topknot, which added five inches to her petite five-foot frame already raised higher by her iridescent four-inch platforms. She’d managed to pack her ample form into a sunflower-yellow spandex jumpsuit, but in several places it looked ready to break at the seams. Jack was glad to see that Alice had included Shawna in the bridal party. Not only had she proved to be extremely efficient—bossy as a mother hen—in Titus’s office, where Jack worked now, but she was also a good friend to both Jack and Alice.

  He heard a grating voice coming from one corner and saw Erica ordering around the photographer’s assistant and rearranging the drapery on the altar at the same time. Catching sight of the new arrivals, she beckoned them over, waving both arms. “Marisa, do you have the gloves?”

  Jack groaned as Erica bore down on them.

  “Is that Jack?” Alice’s voice rose high. “He can’t see me!” She ducked down and disappeared between some potted palms and Roman columns.

  “Oh no you don’t! Out! Out!” Shawna marched over, grabbed Jack, spun him around, and started shoving him toward the exit.<
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  “I don’t buy all that superstition—” Jack started, but she cut him off.

  “Superstition’s got nothing to do with it.” Shawna’s topknot waggled back and forth as she signaled her strong disapproval. “My granddaddy said that his first glance of his beautiful bride in her wedding gown coming down the aisle toward him was a moment he treasured for the rest of his life. I’m not gonna be the one to let you screw that up for yourself, Jack.” She yanked open the door and pushed him out with the skill of an experienced bouncer. “Besides, it builds anticipation.” She wiggled her eyebrows before slamming the door in his face.

  Jack stood on the sidewalk for a moment, dumbfounded, before he grabbed the doorknob. Shawna had locked it.

  A deep laugh behind him made Jack straighten up. Bobbie G. strode over from his old Hummer. At six-four and over three hundred pounds, Bobbie Gibson didn’t necessarily have to show off his massive biceps, but he always rolled up the sleeves on his army-green T-shirt for maximum effect.

  He looked Jack up and down, broke into a broad grin, and nodded. That was sort of a tradition with Jack and Bobbie. They didn’t shake hands, no knuckle bumps. They just nodded. They’d known each other from when Jack was growing up with Aunt Haddie, his foster mother, and later Alice’s. Still, Jack would always have Bobbie’s back—and had done so on a few occasions, especially since they both now worked for Titus Bail Bonds.

  “You always had a way with women, Jackie. I take it you did something to set Shawna off?”

  Jack jerked his thumb at the door. “I forgot about the whole don’t-see-the-bride-in-the-dress-before-the-wedding thing.”

  “It’s bad luck, don’t you know that?”

  Jack scoffed. He didn’t believe in luck—and if he did, his was getting worse. Now, on top of trying to break the news to Alice that he’d found a picture of her taped to the wall at a crime scene, he’d have to assure her that he hadn’t seen her wedding dress . . . and that he was not still in love with Marisa. Jack rubbed his temples and heaved a sigh.

  “I thought you were chasing down a skip in the backwoods,” Bobbie G. said. “Don’t tell me you caught him already. You’re making me look bad.”

  “I ran into a problem. That’s why I have to talk to Alice.”

  “What problem?” Bobbie G. crossed his thick arms.

  Jack’s attention was on the dark Cadillac slowly circling the building; the same car had been driving around the building when he first pulled in.

  “Do you know Buck Mountain?” Jack asked without taking his eyes off the car.

  “From a distance.” Bobbie G. must have noticed Jack’s concern. He turned to look as the Cadillac pulled into the lot and stopped with its headlights shining in Jack’s face.

  “You know this guy?” Bobbie G. asked cautiously.

  “Nope.”

  The car door swung open and a white male who looked just old enough to buy beer stepped out.

  Bobbie G. scowled. “Are you kiddin’ me?”

  The kid held his shaking hands out toward Bobbie. “I’m sorry, Bobbie. I totally forgot my appointment.”

  “It wasn’t an appointment, you idiot. It was a court appearance.” Bobbie stomped toward the driver. “He’s Ricky Wilson,” he called back to Jack.

  Jack nodded, relieved. He realized he’d instinctively moved his hand to his back holster and the involuntary gesture bothered him. There was a difference between being prepared and being paranoid, and Jack worried that reaching for his gun on the sidewalk outside Alice’s photoshoot was crossing that line.

  “My mom told me you were looking for me,” Ricky said. “I got hung up, man. Can you explain to Titus?”

  “You can explain to Titus. But you’ll have to talk to the judge first.”

  “Oh, come on, man.” Ricky swore.

  “Don’t go mouthing off to me.” Bobbie G. towered over the younger man. “You’re the one who screwed up. The judge will probably bounce you right back out, but now I gotta take you in. You got anything on you?”

  Ricky shook his head, but Bobbie G. patted him down anyway. When he was done, he cuffed Ricky and looked over at Jack. “Hey, man, can you do me a solid and explain this to Shawna?”

  “Explain that you caught a skip?” Jack asked, puzzled. Shawna was Titus’s office manager. Why would Bobbie G. need to explain . . .? Jack’s eyes widened. Oh. “Are you and Shawna . . .?”

  “Don’t go looking at me like that, Jack.” Bobbie shook a finger back and forth. “And get that smirk off your face. This is your fault.”

  “My fault? How is you hooking up with Shawna my fault?”

  “I’m not hooking up hooking up.” Bobbie G’s face flushed. “We’re both in your wedding party, and she said it would be cheaper if we didn’t bring a date and went together. The next thing you know . . .” He cast a nervous glance at the door. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a fine woman. But I was thinking we were just going together, not ‘going together,’ you know? And now I’m driving her around everywhere and—”

  Jack started laughing. “And you thought I had bad luck.”

  “Shut up, Jackie. This is all your fault.”

  “Then I’ll let you explain to Shawna why you’re leaving.”

  “No, no, man.” Bobbie G. marched Ricky over to his Hummer. “We’re supposed to go over to her aunt’s after this. Just tell her it’s gonna take a while to get Ricky processed. Offer her a ride.”

  “What? No way. I have my own problems.”

  “You can’t just leave her here.” Bobbie G. put Ricky in the back of the Hummer and got in.

  “I’m not leaving her here, you are,” Jack responded. “Besides, she knows how long it takes to process a skip. She’s gonna know if you lie to her.”

  Bobbie G. tilted his chin up to the ceiling of the car like a little kid having a temper tantrum. “But her aunt has all these cats. There’s like fifty of them, and they smell and they climb all over you . . .” The whole Hummer rocked as he shook his head in disgust.

  “Fine. Go. I’ll explain.”

  “Thanks, man!” Bobbie G. gunned the Hummer out of the parking lot before Jack could change his mind.

  Jack ran a hand over his stubble and sighed as he walked over to the entrance. Before he could knock, the door to the photography studio whipped open.

  Shawna lowered an accusatory finger at Jack. “I heard the Hummer roaring out of here. What did you say to Bobbie to make him take off like that?”

  “Me? Nothing. Ricky Wilson—”

  “You got a lead on Ricky and you told Bobbie? Is that where he went?”

  “Calm down,” Jack said and immediately regretted it when Shawna placed a hand on her hip and lowered her chin. “I didn’t say anything. Ricky showed up—”

  “Ricky just happened to show up? You didn’t bring him?”

  “No. Ricky drove by looking for Bobbie and turned himself in.”

  Shawna’s nostrils flared. “How’d that no-count Wilson know to find Bobbie here?”

  “His mom, I think. I told Bobbie I’d give you a ride when this is over,” Jack said. “How much longer is it going to be?”

  “At least two hours.” Shawna pulled out her phone. “And there’s no need for you to give me a ride, because Bobbie will be done processing Ricky by then.” Her fingernails clicked on the screen as she pecked out a number. “I’ll make certain of it.”

  “Look, I hate to interrupt, but I have to talk to Alice.”

  Shawna moved to block the door. “Oh, really? Do you have any idea how long it took her to get into that wedding dress?”

  Marisa appeared behind Shawna and gave Jack a sympathetic smile. “Actually, Alice wants to talk to Jack. She can keep her dress hidden.”

  “Fine.” Shawna stepped out of the way and Jack was assaulted by the smell of roses from the set. As Jack shuffled by her and slipped inside, he heard Shawna tell Milton at the office to process Ricky right away and then send Bobbie back to pick her up. He felt bad for Bobbie, but his frien
d was on his own from here. Jack had enough issues of his own to handle.

  “Jack!” Erica’s overdramatic squeal welcomed him into the room. She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention, her neon nails reflecting the bright lights, and he couldn’t decide if she reminded him more of an elementary school teacher or a trained seal. “One moment, everyone! I’d like to introduce the groom-to-be, Jack Stratton.”

  Jack saw only two people he didn’t know among the half dozen or so friends of his and Alice’s milling about the studio, so the introduction must have been for the tall man with a large camera hanging from his neck and the woman in her thirties wearing a plain but elegant blue dress. Both smiled politely as Erica pulled Jack by the hand to the middle of the room.

  “Jack, this is Philip Poole.” Erica’s grin widened. “He’s a photographic genius. All the big magazines—Vogue, Cosmo—”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jack reached out his hand, but Philip held on to his camera with both hands and simply nodded.

  “Pleasure,” he said.

  Erica sailed on with her introductions, clutching the woman in a side embrace. “And this is Lenora Soriano, the daughter of Lorenzo Soriano.” Erica paused expectantly, but Jack didn’t have a clue who she was talking about.

  Lenora jumped in to help him. “My father designed your fiancée’s wedding gown.” She shook Jack’s outstretched hand and gave him a friendly smile.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m sure it’s great, but I’d marry Alice if she showed up barefoot wearing my old T-shirt.” Jack couldn’t help picturing Alice just that way, and he was stabbed with a pang, a hunger for her presence.

  Erica straightened up like she was about to give a presentation. “Lenora’s father is one of the premier wedding dress designers in the world. When we found out he was available, we scooped him up.”

  Lenora blushed. “You’re very kind.”

  The photographer cleared his throat and pointed to his elaborate safari-style smart watch, which looked like it could take pictures all by itself. As Erica was apologizing to Philip for the delay, Jack saw his chance and took a couple of long strides, but the wedding planner quickly caught up with him and grabbed his elbow.