Page 7 of Queen of Diamonds
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“If it isn’tthree of the ugliest brothers to walk the land,” Rand said upon entering the field office’s conference room and seeing Nate, Court, and Alex Gentry sitting at the table.
Alex snorted. “You just wish you had half our good looks, dude.”
“And that’s another thing.” He slid into the seat next to Court. “All three of you are on my shit list for teaching Josh that word. If he calls me ‘dude’ one more time, I’m going to duct tape his mouth shut.”
That got a full-bellied laugh from Alex, a laugh from Court, and a chuckle from Nate, which about summed up the personalities of the brothers. Alex saw the fun in everything, Court sometimes did, and Nate rarely. Rand did have to concede that since Nate had finally gotten out of his own way and admitted that he loved Taylor Collins—one of their fellow agents—the man actually smiled these days.
“Dudes! Sorry I’m late,” Josh said, almost tripping over his own feet as he rushed in.
Rand coughed down a laugh, but Alex didn’t even try. Both Nate and Court chuckled, amusement in their eyes as they watched Josh scramble for a seat.
He scrunched his eyebrows together. “What’d I miss, a good joke?”
“Dude,” Alex said, his lips still twitching, “we were just talking about all the ways to use duct tape.”
Rand groaned. “Let’s get this meeting started.” Before Alex decided it would be fun to tell Josh one of those uses.
They spent an hour discussing what they knew so far on the Hot Shots, which wasn’t much. Mostly just rumors that they were dealing in stolen weapons. They were a new club at Aces & Eights, one the Gentrys hadn’t dealt with during their time at the bar. After giving Josh the approval to dig deeper, Nate ended the meeting but told Rand to stay behind.
“You aren’t comfortable at Aces and Eights, are you?”
With any other boss Rand would have assured him otherwise, but with Nate he knew he could be honest without repercussions. “It’s not so much that I’m uncomfortable as that I don’t fit in. The bikers are never going to warm up to me.”
Nate leaned back in his chair and tapped his finger on his lips. “The problem is that you’re not meant to work undercover.”
“Or this is just the wrong undercover job for me.”
“The thing is, a good undercover cop or agent can fit into whatever the operation is, and most of those involve the seedy side of life. You don’t know what to do with the dark side.”
So he was a disappointment. “I… I’m—”
Nate waved a hand at him. “There’s no reason to apologize. You’re a damn good agent. We just need to get you back to doing what you do best. I’m working on getting someone transferred to this office to take your place at the bar, but until that happens, you’re going to have to stick it out. Someone needs to keep an eye on Josh.”
“You know I will.” The relief that coursed through Rand surprised him. Until now he hadn’t admitted, even to himself, how unhappy he was with his assignment. “Josh is doing a great job. He just needs to settle down a little.”
“I know. While I appreciate his enthusiasm, his eagerness to prove himself could get him in trouble.”
That was true, and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to the kid. “He’ll settle down soon enough. Anything else?”
“No. I think we’ve covered everything.”
He almost told Nate about Kinsey Landon but decided to hold off. The more he learned about her, the harder it was to see her as a threat. It was true what he’d told Josh. Having any of the Gentrys’ attention on you was the last thing you’d want.
Until and unless she proved otherwise, he’d consider her innocent of any harmful intentions. He swallowed his discomfort for misleading her, although he’d mostly told her the truth. The scarf had been a birthday present for his mother. He just hadn’t mentioned said birthday was three months away. And he had been thinking of her since the night he’d first seen her, even though he hadn’t wanted to.
As Rand drove home to change into jeans and a T-shirt before heading to Aces & Eights, he thought about what Nate had said. It was true. He didn’t know how to act around the people who frequented Aces & Eights. Until he’d become an FBI agent, the dark side of life hadn’t touched him. And he didn’t include losing his daughter in that. That hadn’t been the kind of dark that Nate was talking about.
From the day he’d been born, Rand had the best. The best clothes, the best schools, meals cooked by a world-class chef. His first car had been a BMW—given to him as soon as he was licensed to drive—and his friends had all been like him. Privileged.
Was he grateful that he hadn’t known hunger or had to worry if he would have a place to sleep at night? Hell, yes. Did he feel guilt that he was privileged by birth? Yeah, he did. His first glimpse of how it would be to wonder if he’d have enough money to even buy a cheap hamburger had been in his first year at Yale. His roommate had attended on a full scholarship, a boy with a brilliant mind.
Unlike Rand, everything had been against Tyrone from his first breath. A drug-addicted mother, a nonexistent father, in and out of foster care, and that was just for a start. Yet Tyrone had somehow believed in himself, had managed to avoid the drug scene, and through hard work and study had landed a full scholarship at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. Against all odds, they’d become best friends, the rich boy and the boy who’d moved into Rand’s dorm room with only two pairs of cheap pants and three white dress shirts with the Walmart tags still on them.
Tyrone had both impressed him and fascinated him. Despite not having much in common, they’d eased into being friends. Tyrone was funny, and his impersonations of classmates and celebrities would have Rand laughing so hard his stomach hurt. Over time they’d opened up to each other, learning they had one important thing in common that brought them even closer. Neither one of their mothers put her son first in her life. Rand’s cared more about her social life and impressing her peers, and drugs came first for Tyrone’s.
Rand’s major was business and economics, and he would go to work for his father as soon as he graduated. Tyrone’s major was criminal justice. He wanted to join the FBI, often talked about doing his part to make the world a better, safer place.
