Jack of Hearts (Aces & Eights Book 1)

by Sandra Owens

  ALSO BY SANDRA OWENS

  K2 Team Series

  Crazy for Her

  Someone Like Her

  Falling for Her

  Lost in Her

  Only Her

  Regencies

  The Duke’s Obsession

  The Training of a Marquess

  The Letter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2017 Sandra Owens

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503941380

  ISBN-10: 1503941388

  Cover design by Eileen Carey

  To the readers of the world who know there is nothing better than getting lost in a good book. Without you, authors wouldn’t exist.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  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

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  As an investigative reporter with a deep belief in the laws of our country, I’ve used my pen to fight injustice wherever I found it. Over the years, I’ve exposed politicians and those in power who’ve hurt and/or stolen from the very people they are supposed to protect. I’ve never hesitated to unmask these villains living among us . . . until now.

  As you sit at your kitchen table drinking coffee, or in your recliner, or wherever you are while reading this, I will be praying that my family understands why I had to write this article. If I’m aware of criminal activity, no matter how close to home it hits, and don’t expose those responsible, then my life’s work means nothing.

  Michael Parker again read the last two paragraphs of the front-page story that would run next week. Although he thought he might be sleeping on the couch afterward, he planned to give his wife and daughter the article to read tonight.

  “You gonna let me read that yet?” Jack, his editor, asked, poking his head around the doorframe.

  “Tomorrow.” His family would read it first, then Jack could have it. Michael had never been this secretive with his editor before, so the man was biting at the bit to know what his award-winning journalist was working on.

  “Coffee in my office in the morning then. I’ll buy.”

  Michael rolled his eyes. “No you won’t. I still refuse to drink that shit from the vending machine, you cheap mofo. I’ll pick up coffees on my way in tomorrow.” Which Jack had known Michael would do. It was a game they played, one Jack enjoyed more than he did since Michael was always the one buying.

  As soon as his editor left, Michael shut down his computer. He pulled out the thumb drive, putting it in his briefcase. Unlike any of his other stories, this one wasn’t saved on his computer. It existed on this thumb drive only, staying with him at all times.

  It was going on ten o’clock, time to go home and face the music. He’d called earlier to say he was finishing up a story and would be late. Most nights, he looked forward to going home to his wife and daughter. Not tonight, though. He swiveled his chair around, his gaze falling on the bookshelf behind him. The photo of him with his family at his daughter’s high school graduation caught his eye, and he sat for a good five minutes staring at the two most beautiful women in the world.

  He’d never been prouder than when he’d listened to his daughter give the valedictorian speech. That girl had stolen his heart the moment she was born and he’d laid eyes on her. When he’d held her in his arms for the first time, he’d made a promise to his baby girl that he would do his part in making the world a better place for her. Over the years, he’d done his best to keep that promise, to be a father she would be proud of.

  Briefcase in hand, he rode the elevator to the ground floor, waving to the night security man as he walked out of the building. This late, he was the only one on the sidewalk, which suited him. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to any of his coworkers. His car was parked in the garage across the street, and as he waited for the light to change, he stared ahead, seeing nothing.

  This story had Pulitzer Prize written all over it, but the thought didn’t excite him as it should. He just wanted to get it published, deal with the repercussions, and put it all behind him.

  The revving of an engine penetrated his brain, and he blinked, focusing on the car headed straight for him. The hell? He tried to get out of the way, but he’d waited too long. The impact sent his body flying through the air and crashing into the building behind him.

  Funny, shouldn’t he feel pain? His vision grayed, but before fading out altogether, he thought he saw a man grab his briefcase, then take off running. “My story . . .” he tried to say, but his mouth refused to work.

  As the world turned to black, tears leaked from his eyes. I’m sorry, my beautiful girls. So damn sorry.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The fight was as good as over before it started. Alex Gentry walked to the bar, grabbed a pitcher of beer meant for the dudes playing pool in the back room, then returned to the biker lying facedown on the floor. He stood over the heavily tattooed man and poured the contents over the guy’s head.

  “Get up, Spider,” he said when the man’s eyes blinked open and he sputtered. Spider laughed, turned onto his back, and opened his mouth, catching the beer. The dude was fucking crazy.

  “Good stuff,” Spider said when the pitcher ran dry.

  “I sure hope you’re not giving away free beer again, bro.”

  Alex managed not to show any surprise at hearing the voice of his oldest brother. He glanced over his shoulder and glared at Nate. “Stop sneaking up on me like that.”

  Nate smirked. “But it’s so much fun. Why’s Spider drinking his beer while lying on the floor?”

  “He bet me I couldn’t knock him out with one hit.” They both stared down at the man who seemed as comfortable on a floor sticky from spilled beer and crushed cigarette butts as he would be on a barstool. Spider grinned back at them.

  “How much did he lose this time?” Nate asked.

  “A hundred.” So far Spider had lost around five hundred bucks making ridiculous bets with Alex. Not that Alex was complaining. Most of the bills were counterfeit and were passed on to Denzil Rothmire, the head of Miami’s FBI office—their boss. The one or two real hundreds, Alex put in the tip jar for their two employees to split.

  Alex held out his hand. “Pay up.”

  Still sprawled on the floor and grinning like an idiot, Spider dug into the pocket of h
is dirty jeans and pulled out a wad of money, peeled off one bill, and handed it to Alex. “You’re fun losing money to, Heart Man.”

  Alex snorted. “And you’re crazy, dude.”

  “I know,” Spider answered, pushing up to a sitting position.

  “What was the bet this time?” the third Gentry brother asked, walking up to them.

  Alex eyed Court. “He didn’t believe I could put him on his ass with one punch.”

  “Dude, back in high school Heart Man was state champion in boxing.” Court slapped an arm around Alex’s shoulder. “Our baby brother forget to tell you that?”

  “Slipped my mind,” Alex said.

  For some reason Spider found that hilarious, and they left him wallowing on the floor.

  “Keep an eye on things for a few minutes,” Nate said to Riker, their bartender, as they walked by.

  “You bet, Boss Man.” Riker went back to wiping down the bar.

  Alex paused. “Pour another pitcher of beer and take it to the dudes in the pool room.”

  Riker gave him a two-finger salute. “You bet, Boss Man.”

  “That one real?” Nate asked after he’d closed the door to the office. The room had been soundproofed, and every morning Court swept it for bugs.

  Alex stuck the bill under the ultraviolet light. “Nope.”

  “Spider’s stupid for passing out counterfeit Benjies instead of tens and twenties. Nobody pays attention to the small bills,” Court said.

  Alex nodded. “I also think he’s too stupid to be making them, so we need to find out where he’s getting them. You gotta like the dude, though. He’s the happiest biker I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s ’cause he’s a pothead.” Nate threw himself down on the leather sofa, stretching out his long legs.

  “Well, I give him credit for not touching anything else. Other than his beer and his joints, he’s clean.”

  Court gave him a look of disbelief. “Christ, Alex, I can’t believe you just said that. Other than his beer and joints, he’s clean? That’s like saying other than Dad guzzling his Johnnie Walker, he didn’t drink. And you left out the part about Spider passing out counterfeit bills around town.”

  “Yeah, well, Spider amuses me, so sue me.” Alex pushed Nate’s feet off the couch, taking the space on the opposite end. A strand of hair fell across Alex’s forehead, and he brushed it back.

  Although two years apart in birth order, the three brothers looked so much alike that by unspoken agreement they each wore their hair differently. Nate kept his long black hair tied back into a low ponytail with a leather strip, while Court liked his cut military-style. Alex preferred his to curl around his collar, but not an inch longer than that. He’d often thought that, unconsciously, they had matched their hair to their personalities.

  “Anyone besides me getting worried about Ramon being MIA for a week now?” Court said.

  “The word on the street is that his father sent him to Mexico.” Alex leaned over and adjusted the gun in his boot where it was rubbing on his ankle. “I’m guessing he’s meeting with their suppliers.”

  Nate frowned. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Here and there. You outta get out more, bro.” Although here and there wasn’t exactly the truth. The information had come from a source close to the Alonzo drug cartel family, one he was keeping to himself.

  “What the hell is he doing back?” Nate narrowed his eyes as he stared at the large monitor mounted on the wall. “I kicked him out earlier. Told him he was banned for a week.”

  Alex glanced at the screen to see Dirty Dan walking up to the bar. “Guess he didn’t believe you. What’d he do this time?”

  “Caught him behind the bar stealing beer again.” Nate stood and headed for the door. “Idiot,” he muttered.

  “I’ll come with you.” As Alex pushed up from the sofa, his phone pinged with an incoming text, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

  Need to see you!

  The exclamation point was code for ASAP. “Sorry I’ll miss all the fun, but my snitch needs to see me.” Dirty Dan coming back so soon after he’d been evicted meant he was looking for a fight. Like his brothers, Alex loved a good brawl.

  “Spooky Man the one who told you where Ramon was?” Court asked.

  “Yep.” To keep the other two FBI agents in the room from trying to arrange a meeting with his snitch, Alex had told them his source spooked at the drop of a pin. That if either of them came anywhere near him, he would disappear, never to be heard from again. They’d dubbed the informant Spooky Man, which amused him.

  “Go ahead and take off. I’ll back up Nate.” Court followed Nate out.

  As soon as Alex was alone, he sent a text.

  On the way

  Before leaving, he grabbed a plain black T-shirt from the closet where he and his brothers kept spare clothes. He pulled off the personalized one he was wearing, not wanting to show up at Spooky Man’s stinking of cigarettes and biker groupies’ cheap perfume. Each brother’s work shirt had inspired their customers to give them nicknames. Alex’s had a jack of hearts playing card above the Aces & Eights logo of a deck of fanned cards, earning him the nickname Heart Man.

  Court’s had a king of clubs, so he was simply King. Top dog Nate had the ace of spades card on his shirt, making him Ace. The bar was the queen of diamonds, and a demanding queen she was as far as Alex was concerned. She ate up all their time, masquerading as a front for their undercover work.

  Grabbing his helmet and jacket, Alex went to the garage they’d added at the rear of Aces & Eights, pressed the door opener, then mounted his Harley. Fifteen minutes later, he parked his bike under a streetlight a block from his destination. Clicking on the alarm, he walked the rest of the way to High Tea and Black Cat Books. Going to the back of the building, he climbed the fire escape, careful not to make any noise.

  When he reached the window two stories up, he tested it to see if it was locked. It was. Good, she had listened to him. His first visit, it had been open, and he knew better than most that there were night monsters looking for easy access to a woman’s bedroom.

  He tapped a prearranged code on the glass, and the window immediately slid up. After stepping inside, he closed the window, locking it. It was undeniably odd to be sneaking into a woman’s room for reasons other than joining her in her bed.

  They’d tried to think of a neutral place to meet, but Ramon had spies all over South Miami. Madison Parker, cousin to Ramon Alonzo, was running scared, and ever since stepping between her and Ramon when the jackass had tried to kiss her, Alex had accidently fallen into the role of champion. Since that worked to his advantage, he’d encouraged her to contact him if Ramon ever messed with her again.

  Why he was keeping her a secret from his brothers was a question he refused to examine too closely. She was a prime source for information on the Alonzo family. There was no one in the world he trusted more than Nate and Court, but he was feeling weirdly possessive where Madison was concerned. A damn red flag there. He didn’t do possessive.

  The reason he’d lied to his brothers sat crossed-legged on the end of her bed, leaving the only chair in the room for him. The bedside lamp was dimmed, and in the low artificial light her fiery red hair reminded him of the flames of a campfire, changing colors whenever she moved. Her eyes almost appeared black, but in the daylight they were a captivating green. Cat eyes, he’d thought the first time they met.

  It had been on a Saturday morning three weeks earlier when he had first laid eyes on Madison Parker. He’d been at Ramon’s house, playing a game of pool with the man, doing his best to lose a hundred bucks. Not an easy thing when his opponent kept missing the pocket. Alex had already learned that Ramon didn’t like losing, no matter what the game was.

  He quietly sighed when Ramon missed again. Alex bent over the table and lined up his cue. He was going to have to put this one in the pocket, or it would become obvious he was missing on purpose. If Alex could manage to lose to Ramon, the man would be happy
and might even brag a little about his drug business.

  Just as Alex pulled his arm back to take the shot, a woman walked into the room, and he hit the ball so hard that it flew over the rim of the table and hit the wall. Jesus, she was gorgeous. Red hair curling halfway down her back, green eyes, and a splash of freckles across her nose, she took his breath away. A first for him.

  He liked women, maybe a little too much if you listened to his brothers, but never had he wanted to lay claim to one at first sight—until now. Who was she? She glanced from him to the dent in the wall then back at him, and full lips that wore nothing more than clear gloss lifted in a grin.

  “Nice shot, Ace.”

  He straightened, dropped the cue stick, and walked around the table, his hand out in front of him. “Hi, I’m Alex, and you are?” She put her hand in his, and he had the unsettling thought that he was never going to let it go.

  Her gaze fell to their joined hands. “I’m—”

  “My cousin,” Ramon said, stepping next to her and putting his arm possessively around her shoulders.

  “You don’t look anything alike.” It was a stupid thing to say, but he had the urge to call Ramon a liar. If she was a member of the Alonzo family, she was off-limits, and that was a heartbreaker.

  She tugged on her hand, and he reluctantly let go, then she slipped out from under Ramon’s arm. “I’m Madison Parker, and you’re very observant, Alex.”

  There was mischief in those cat eyes, but it faded when Ramon wrapped his hand around her hair and pulled her roughly back to him. She didn’t seem to like her cousin, if they were in fact cousins. Alex wasn’t sure he believed it, but he also hoped she wasn’t Ramon’s girlfriend.

  “Ramon’s father and my mom are twins.”

  So it was true; they were cousins. He wondered where the red hair and green eyes came from, but he reminded himself that as a family member of the man he was investigating, she was untouchable, no ifs, ands, or buts. Where that gorgeous hair and those beautiful green eyes came from was not his concern.