Diamonds & Deception

Diamonds & Deception A Four Aces novel By Emery Quinn © 2023 Emery Quinn Cover Artist: Sarah Kil Creative Studio Editor: My Brother’s Editor ––––––––All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact Emery Quinn at [email protected] Also by Emery Quinn A Dark Italian Romance Stone's Revenge Sweet Retribution Four Aces Diamonds & Deception (Coming Soon) Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Also By Emery Quinn CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN EPILOGUE Also By Emery Quinn CHAPTER ONE Seducing him shouldn’t be a problem. He’s a ladies’ man, accustomed to being hit on by every red-blooded female. And male as well, I’m sure. Probably any living, breathing human. At least, that’s what I’ve learned from my extensive research into all things Drake Reynolds. A math genius in school who grew up on the rough side of Boston, earning a free ride to MIT, and worked and managed a string of casinos from Foxwoods in Connecticut to riverboats in New Orleans. It’s not his mathematical brain I’m after, though. “Thank you for signing up to run the dogs today, Nora. We’ve been short on volunteers lately. Kids and the elderly love to come in and cuddle, but some of our furry friends are itching for a run.” Jennifer hands me Daisy’s leash. “Daisy will be an excellent motivator to keep running when my brain tells me to quit.” I give the adorable boxer a scratch between her ears before heading out. Daisy gets her much-needed exercise, I’ll get my steps in, and if all goes well, I’ll conveniently crash into Drake Reynolds. Part of me feels guilty for using the shelter as a cover for my mission, but it’s a win-win. We take it at a brisk walk to get used to each other. From what Jennifer has told me, the sweet boxer has been in the shelter for over a month. She came from a couple who just had twins and couldn’t bring her on the runs she craves. It’s hard finding homes for dogs like Daisy in Boston. Most people want cats or small dogs better suited for apartments and brownstones. Not that Daisy is big, but she’s needy and full of energy. If she isn’t adopted by the time I get the information I need, I’ll think about bringing her back to Pennsylvania with me. In the meantime, I plan on visiting the shelter daily and running with the dogs who need it, while keeping tabs on Drake and his seedy business affairs. I may not have my own prime-time television show or even a column dedicated to me in the New York Times or Washington Post, but I do well as an independent writer for websites and blogs. Research and solving mysteries are my bread and butter, even if I’m nickel and diming it lately. This is my first time solving a murder. And I will solve it. My sister deserves to have her murderer caught and locked away. We may not be related by blood, but when my mom married her father fifteen years ago, Carly became my little doll. That’s what Mom used to say. They married two weeks before my sweet sixteen, and my gift, as my mom jokes, was a cute little doll trapped in a six-year-old’s body. I loved playing mother hen to my new sister, and Randy was the most perfect stepfather to me, never trying to replace my father, even though I had no memories of him. He’d cheated on my mom and left her for a college girl before I even started kindergarten. I loved the years when it was just Mom and me but having a man in the house to take care of my mom was nice. Randy has always treated me with respect, and we’re still pretty close. Carly’s murder devastated him, all of us, but especially him. Carly was... I hiccup back my tears, steering Daisy to the right where I expect Drake to be in the next hour. Yeah, I don’t have time to mourn my sister right now. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past four months. That and researching the hell out of Four Aces, the casino where Carly worked. They found her body behind a dumpster a block away thirty minutes after her shift. The casino’s rep sent a card and a ridiculously expensive spray of flowers, as well as enough money to cover the funeral costs and then some. But they claim there is no connection between the casino and her murder. If they hadn’t discovered a body a block away the week before, I could have believed that. He was an employee of the casino as well. Both Carly and Ryan were blackjack dealers. Both were dating regulars who had a rumored connection to crime families in Boston. I don’t believe for one minute that the owner of Four Aces doesn’t have any connection. The Donahues, the notorious Irish crime family in Boston, and the Petrovics, the Russian Mafia, were regulars in the high roller room. In the last conversation I had with Carly, two days before she died, she’d been bubbly and in love with her new, much older boyfriend, Owen Donahue. Nephew of Micky Donahue. According to my research, Micky doesn’t teeter on the line between right and wrong. He crosses over it and rarely comes over to the good side. He’s also quite