The Girl With Diamonds (Midtown Brotherhood Book 2) Read online

  Austin shook his head. “No.”

  “You assaulted your toilet. You’re in no shape to run right now. Trust me, we don’t want that disaster zone spreading to the practice facility.”

  Austin sat down on the edge of his bed, trying to rein in the panic and unease that hid behind the massive headache. “I need to go to the bar. I have to find that girl.”

  “Look—I know this is hard on your ego.”

  “It isn’t about my damn ego. She could have that same picture you took. I don’t want to go back to us spending our mornings double checking the tabloids before we leave the house.”

  Henrik winced. The memories of his wild child days were still too close to home.

  “And what if we find her? What if someone knows her name? What then, Austin?”

  “I don’t know.” He threw his hands out. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

  Henrik walked over and sat down on the bed beside him, his elbows on his knees. He stared at the wall, his teeth running over his bottom lip. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  Henrik sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. “How can I tell you no? You carried me home from the bar so many times I can’t count. If it’ll make you feel better to ask around, then we will.”

  Austin nodded. “Thanks.”

  Henrik stood and walked toward the door. “At least sleep off your hangover first. I’m not carrying your wobbly ass to the bar.”

  Austin held up his hand. “Hey—wait a second.”

  Henrik stopped and leaned against the doorframe.

  Austin shot him his best pleading look. “Let’s not tell my sister about this. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “Sure.” Henrik nodded and took a step out the door, but then he stopped. “Before you pass out again, you might want to consider a shower. You’re making your entire apartment smell like tequila and stupid.”

  Austin pulled himself to his feet. “It must smell familiar.”

  Henrik smiled. The tension started to slowly fade, but the heartache and memories of what could happen would never go away. Not now. This kind of mistake could change his whole world.

  Chapter Two

  MAGNOLIA’S BAD DAY

  Coffee stain on the boob of her dress shirt. A six inch run on the knee of her favorite tights. If that wasn’t enough, Magnolia dropped her last contact into the black hole of her bathroom floor. The roar of maddening annoyance that erupted out of her would have brought a grizzly bear to its knees.

  She really shouldn’t have laughed at Troy for dropping that plate of doughnuts during the intern luncheon, because karma was kicking her ass today.

  Alternating between cursing and screaming like a pissed off banshee, Magnolia removed her other contact and grabbed her glasses from the shelf. Of all the days for her luck to go south, it had to be the first day of her interview rotation. The one day she needed to look presentable, and at least appear as if she had her shit together, she would show up a total hot mess.

  She stuck a blueberry bagel in her mouth, then ripped off the ruined tights. She replaced them with a pair of polka dotted pantyhose. Not exactly professional. The design had a sex appeal that wasn’t appropriate for an on-air interview. She paired them with a plain black pencil skirt, and exchanged her coffee soaked shirt for a simple midnight sweater in hope of toning it down.

  Magnolia took a quick glance in the mirror. If she was going to a funeral at a night club, she totally nailed it.

  She snatched the antique diamond necklace her grandmother had given her from the tiny, pink velvet jewelry box on her night stand as the timer on her cell buzzed. It was her safety net to make sure she left on schedule. The subway to Madison Square Garden would be packed tonight. Any night the Rangers played sent the city into chaos. It was imperative she leave on time. She put her necklace on, stuffed her bagel back in her mouth, grabbed her backpack, and hit the door running.

  Her bare feet hit the cold concrete outside her door. Shoes. She actually forgot her shoes. That was a first. Her heels lay in wait inside her backpack, but she needed something more sensible for the commute. She locked her door while she slipped on her sneakers.

  Her phone started beeping before she made it half a block. Early bird Stella to the rescue.

  “I’m not late.” Magnolia held her phone with her shoulder, searching her pockets for her subway card. “Not yet.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I’m just calling to let you know I’m waiting at the exchange next—”

  “Next to the escalator. We meet there every day, Stells.”

  Magnolia imagined Stella waiting there, bouncing on the heels of her perfectly practical Dr. Scholl’s in her argyle sweater. “Sorry,” Stella said, taking a moment, “I’m just nervous.”

  Magnolia sighed into the phone. “Why? You’re working in the booth tonight.”

  A quiet buzz echoed behind Stella’s delicate sigh. “I’m not nervous for me.”

  Magnolia slid her card across the sensor at the gate and made a beeline for the train. “Wait. Are you worried about me?”

  “It’s your on-air debut. This is big time.”

  Magnolia snorted, slipping between two men and onto the train. She found a vacant seat next to the door and sat down. She had two stops until the exchange where Stella waited. “It’s an internship at a local network. It’s not primetime.”

  Magnolia couldn’t ignore the flux of butterflies in her stomach. She’d been waiting weeks for her turn to do an on-air post-game interview. There were five paid interns at the Madison Square Garden network. She would rotate between interviews, stats, and post-game write-ups with Marc and Troy. Stella rotated between running the blog and working the booth with Cressida. Post-game write-ups were great, and Magnolia loved finally putting her communications degree to work, but she wanted to be on-air. She wanted that red light pointed at her.

  “Is Cressida there yet?” Magnolia wanted to change the subject. She had enough nerves brewing in her stomach without Stella stirring them up with her giant worry-wart spoon.

  “No. She said she’d meet us at the game.”

  That sounded like Cressida. The daughter of a Wall Street executive, Cressida didn’t exactly take her responsibilities seriously. Cressida was always late, and not just walking the edge of on-time like Magnolia did most days. The lights flickered inside the train, and Magnolia knew the routine well enough to know she’d lose signal soon. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said quickly. “Don’t worry about me.”

  She didn’t have to hang up because the call failed, and the brakes on the train squealed. Another day in Manhattan. Magnolia pulled out her trusted field notebook, marking the accomplishment with the tip of her pen across the top like a survivor stranded on a deserted island. It felt the same. Home felt a world away and out of reach. The winter chill and nameless faces made her miss Atlanta.

  It made her miss her family.

  She could do without the constant knife in her back from so-called friends and the gossip mill that kept her poor mother’s phone ringing off the hook, though. Her fingers flexed around the pen in her hand. She knew she couldn’t go back home yet. She’d punch Felix Hayworth in his ladder-climbing nose. She needed the distance right now. Her hot temper and betrayed heart needed time to forgive, or at least enough time to stop contemplating Felix’s unfortunate demise.

  This internship was her ticket away from the rumors. It offered her a chance to change her own fortune. She wasn’t a party girl like those pictures suggested. She spent her Friday nights in college with Jane Austen and Dr. McDreamy. On the rare occasion she did go out, it was with her friends for a cocktail or a movie.

  As constant and reliable as the bells on Big Ben, Stella waited for her next to the escalators at the exchange. Magnolia loved Stella. She wasn’t a New York native, but her family visited the city from New Jersey so much that Stella knew it well enough to thrive as a new resident. She found Magnolia the first, second, and third time she got lost o
n her way home, and Stella taught her how to ride the subway. At least how to ride the subway without looking like a tourist and risk getting mugged every day.

  Stella’s smile at the sight of her was instant. Mocking.

  “Damn, girl. Look at those legs.”

  Magnolia groaned, bypassing her friend and hopping directly on the escalator.

  Stella ran after her. “What happened? That is not the outfit we discussed on the phone last night.”

  Magnolia didn’t turn around. “I had a change of heart.”

  Stella stepped up beside her and grinned. “You spilled your coffee again, didn’t you? What did I tell you about that silly football mug? The lid is broken. Throw that wretched thing away.”

  Magnolia shot Stella a menacing glare over her shoulder. It wasn’t the first time Stella made such a horrific suggestion about her beloved mug that survived eight finals weeks. The mug wasn’t her problem.

  Stella’s frown turned sympathetic at the edges. “Sorry. Again. I know I’m not helping.”

  Magnolia hopped off the edge of the escalator, searching the intersection for their next train. “If you want to be helpful, then tell me I don’t look like a streetwalker and Evan isn’t going to pull me from the interview tonight.”

  Stella threw her arm around Magnolia’s shoulder. A gentle Stella-like hug. “Evan would never pull you. You’re the best on-air person in our group.”

  Stella would make a terrific mother one day. She was a constant breath of fresh air in a city that rained doubt.

  “Thanks.” For the first time since she woke up, Magnolia took a moment to just breathe.

  The train to Madison Square Garden was crowded, just as she predicted, but at least they were on time. They followed the sea of blue and red to the arena, Magnolia switching her sneakers for her leopard print heels at the crosswalk. She pulled her lanyard with her press badge out of her bag.

  Stella grinned while Magnolia slipped it over her head, eyeing the jewels that trimmed the edges of the lanyard. “You’re such a rhinestone cowgirl.”

  Magnolia pushed her glasses up her nose. “That’s rude. I’m not a cowgirl.”

  “I apologize. Rhinestone princess.”

  Magnolia shot Stella a playful glare. “Owning a BeDazzler isn’t a crime.”

  “It is in Manhattan, and pretty much every place in the entire world except that crazy place in your head where it’s okay to sparklify everything you touch.”

  Magnolia smiled, skipping down the street, her bad mood slowly slipping away. “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, Stella. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

  “Isn’t there something to be said for quality over quantity and less is more?”

  Magnolia winked at her best friend as she backed into the door at the side entrance. “Not in the south.”

  Stella rushed in after her, whispering as they squeezed through the crowd. “Last time I checked, you’re above the Mason-Dixon line.”

  Their boss Evan waited for them at the gate with two of the other interns, Marc and Troy. His face fell at the sight of them, and Magnolia knew why. She held up her hands, refusing to take responsibility for their missing friend. “Cressida told Stella she’d meet us here.”

  Cressida’s reputation for being late was becoming legendary. Magnolia took the itinerary Evan offered.

  “I thought I asked you two to keep her in line.”

  “I’m not her mother,” Magnolia shot back, straightening her backpack and running her gaze down the list of the night’s events. Her interview was in bold letters. “We’re adults, in the general sense of the term. I don’t know where I am half the time, and I make it to work.”

  Evan shook his head, his features still tight. He was only a couple years older than they were. He completed the internship at MSG three years ago. Evan understood more than anyone that this internship was about proving you had what it took to be in this business, and more importantly, a responsible adult. He ushered the boys forward. “Everyone to your spots. Magnolia, you’re in the box with me so we can prep for your interview. I guess Cressida will grace us with her presence when she feels like it.”

  Magnolia nodded and stayed behind as the others hurried off to their stations. Stella gave her a very queasy-looking thumbs up. She started to follow behind Evan when he held his hand up.

  “What?”

  He looked at her again, his tight lips fading into a soft smile. “Have you looked in the mirror?”

  She cringed. Her choice of leggy attire really was that bad. She opened her mouth to explain, but Evan pointed at her mouth. “You have bagel on your face.”

  She reached up and touched her lips, only to find a glob of cream cheese.

  Evan laughed, reaching over to take her things. “You might want a minute to take care of that before your big debut. I’ll meet you in the box.”

  He continued to laugh as he walked off, and Magnolia could have dropped on the spot and cried.

  ‘Worst day ever’ started to have new meaning.

  Chapter Three

  AUSTIN’S INTRUSION

  Austin sat in his car, Kings of Leon singing a little too loudly, with his seat belt still latched across his shoulder. He should have been in the locker room by now. He couldn’t make himself move just yet. He wanted out of this funk he’d sunk into before interacting with humans again.

  His mood, a combination of skydiving without a parachute and digesting rotten eggs, continued to plague him through the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. That purple wig haunted his dreams. He went back to the bar Saturday night with Henrik to look for her. In fact, they checked every bar in Midtown.

  Nothing.

  The bartender didn’t remember her either.

  The ghost of hangovers past. That was what it felt like. Adrenaline pierced his nervous system, keeping his mind on hyper-awareness. It made him anxious. He checked all the local media outlets on his computer before he left home, but now he had the nagging urge to check them again. The thought of her caused him to dwell, and dwelling wouldn’t help him get the puck in the net tonight.

  “Hockey.”

  He repeated it over and over again. He needed to keep to his pre-game routine. He needed to go inside, change into his shorts, eat spaghetti, get loosened up, and then put his gear on. In that exact order.

  His stomach churned. Even the thought of spaghetti reminded him of her. Everything he did, saw, or said reminded him of that blurry vision in his head. The calm, calculating features that eased him into submission like a puppet on a string.

  He had to get his thoughts straight. He had to get this built-up nervous aggression out of his system or he’d go crazy.

  The wig. The deception. His stupid, yet loyal flip phone. He had to forget about it, at least for a little while. Hockey was the only thing he knew that would help. His skates on the ice could cure anything.

  Austin trudged through the door of the locker room, slinging it back on the hinges until it banged loudly against the wall. It was a sign of his mood. It simply meant beware of Blakely.

  Instead of somber silence, hooting laughter greeted him.

  He glanced up, pausing at the edge of the Rangers logo on the middle of the floor. His locker normally waited ready for him with gear and his jersey neatly hanging inside. Tonight it displayed a wide, admittedly colorful variety of chains and handcuffs. Wait. Was that feathers? The kinky assortment was highlighted by a distinctly provocative Ludacris song while Callen added a little strip tease at the locker beside it.

  Austin’s fists clenched as the catcalls continued around him. Taped over his name plate, on display for the world to see, was a glossy photo.

  His photo.

  “Henrik.”

  Austin sauntered across the logo, not giving a shit about tradition. He jerked the picture down, crumbling it between his white knuckles. He turned to the roars of his teammates’ laughter. Karma would find them later. Especially Callen.

  Right now
he wanted one man. His friend stood in the doorway. Henrik hadn’t bothered to put on his pads and gear yet. That was smart. You couldn’t run in gear, and the smartass would need to run.

  Henrik peeked around his shoulder at the locker and smirked. “If it helps, I didn’t tell your sister.”

  Austin pointed at him, his eyes narrowing. “Two seconds, Rylander.” His tone could have summoned demons. He threw his bag down and methodically took off his suit jacket. “Starting now.”

  Henrik vanished. He disappeared down the hall at a sprint. The head start wouldn’t matter. Austin would catch him. He’d catch his best friend and shove his stupid blond head in a toilet.

  He doubted it would make him feel better this time. It would take something more powerful than a prank to lighten the thundering clouds that followed him.

  Austin chased Henrik down the hall and into the tunnel beneath the rink. He scattered a couple guys who still loosened up with a game of gutter ball. Henrik escaped into a stairwell, and Austin caught the door before it closed. He was gaining on him. Three stories up, Henrik dashed into the staff hallway and through another door.

  Not just any door. The women’s restroom. As if that would save him.

  Austin shoved the bathroom door open and rounded the corner. Except it wasn’t Henrik he found. A girl stood at the sink. He dropped to the floor behind the wall. The bathroom made a semi-circle around to the exit on the other side. He would have to wait it out. He glanced beneath the few stalls he could see, wondering where Henrik had stowed away. The faucet cut off.

  Austin peeked around the corner again. Stilettos and legs. Long, immaculately decorated legs, no less. The girl pulled her dark, shiny hair back into a slick ponytail, revealing a string of sparkles around her neck, and huffed at the mirror.

  “You have bagel on your face.” She growled it out like she was angry. “Thanks a lot, Stella.” She leaned over the sink, the tight skirt spreading over her ass. She reapplied lipstick before straightening black rimmed glasses. “Today just isn’t my day.”