Joker Joker (The Deuces Wild Series Book 2)

by Irish Winters

  A smile curved Tate’s lips then. He took a deep breath and let air flow into his lungs, surprised he’d been standing as stiff as he’d been. He didn’t want to be one of those grooms who passed out because they locked their knees during their wedding ceremony.

  “Yes, sir,” Tate said as he grinned past his father-in-law to Winslow’s pretty face.

  “Make each other happy every single day,” Booker said, “and you’ll do just fine.”

  The tough old guy tipped Winslow’s forehead to his mouth and kissed her, then released their necks and stuck his hand at Tate. Instead of a handshake, Tate got pulled against the guy for one last word. “You’re alright, son, you know that? You’re alright.”

  What a lie. Tate wasn’t alright, not by any definition of the word. Winslow was pretty that day in her pearl-studded gown, her shoulders bare and her green eyes glowing like emeralds as if someone had lit a fire inside of her. Since Tate left, she’d grown lovelier and more confident every day. He could hear it in her voice when they talked at night. She’d always been strong, but now she was coming into her own, and he wanted to be a part of the new Winslow. Every day. Damn it. A man shouldn’t have to visit his wife.

  Sitting there in his Jeep under the glow of the parking lights, Tate rubbed that hollow ache his chest, the one that never went away in between visits. “I love you,” he told Winslow, though she wasn’t there. “And I miss you, baby. I miss us.”

  He’d pledged allegiance to the flag when he’d signed onto the Deuces Wild team, but something had to change. He needed Winslow more than he needed his next breath.

  His phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. Didn’t it figure? The last person Tate wanted to talk to after a long flight and a hard week. Tucker Chase.

  “Higgins,” Tate answered, staring across the quiet parking lot to the stairs that led to his empty loft.

  “You tired?”

  Dumb question. “No more than usual. What’s up?”

  “The op in Florida’s been cancelled. Why don’t you take a couple weeks off? Lay low. Mohammed Ur’s trial started yesterday, and I’ll need you as an expert witness. You’ll have to stay in town. Might take a couple months. Maybe longer.”

  Mohammed Ur, the latest homegrown terrorist. Tate had singlehandedly disarmed the guy during a peaceful protest on the National Mall. Ur claimed FBI harassment. Must’ve been because of the brick of C4 in his backpack.

  But a couple months sounded like too damned much down time. “You couldn’t have mentioned that before I boarded in California?” I could be in Amarillo with Winslow now instead of here by myself.

  “I just got word, so why don’t you fly out first thing tomorrow to see Winslow? Want me to make the reservations?”

  Tate shook his head. A good night’s rest would do him some good, but he’d rather spend it with Winslow. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Goodnight, Tate.”

  “Night, Boss.” There was a time Tate hadn’t considered Tucker much of a man, much less a boss worthy of respect, but that had changed. The Deuces Wild team was a good fit for both of them. Tucker seemed to know how to build a team, then how to hone it until it was one of the best in the Bureau. Tate knew he’d take a bullet for any one of his team members. Even Tucker.

  Sure would’ve been nice if Tucker had called before Tate flew across country, though. A flight this late to Amarillo would be another five to six hour flight. Might as well book the first one in the morning.

  The trek up to his loft seemed extra long tonight. The shadows seemed darker. Unlocking his door, Tate stopped at the threshold and took a deep breath, for the first time in his life tired of being alone. He couldn’t bear to turn on the lights, just stood there in the dark. Why confirm what he already knew? That he was a very stupid man?

  “What the hell am I doing here?” he asked the empty apartment.

  “I was kind of hoping you’d want to take me to bed,” a sweet voice murmured from the other side of the room.

  “Winslow?”

  She was grinning when she turned on the lamp. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”

  Tate couldn’t get to her fast enough. The duffle hit the floor as he gathered her into his arms, his heart pounding. He took her mouth ferociously, and as usual, Winslow gave back with vigor. They growled together, their hands mapping each other’s bodies like they couldn’t get enough of each other.

  This was precisely what he needed. This woman. Her mouth. Her soul. Tears pricked his eyes. He captured her face between his palms. “I can’t do this anymore,” he told her. “I’m leaving the Bureau. I’ll find work in Texas.” It was a big enough state. There ought to be something he could do there.

  She mumbled something, but he swallowed her words in his hunger. Their teeth clashed and their tongues tangled, but a starving man lacked finesse, and he was that man, too hungry to go gentle. Threading his fingers into her short-cropped hair, he cupped her head to the side for better access to that delicious mouth. She came willingly, still mumbling. Still kissing. Still smiling.

  As last he came up for air, embarrassed he’d mugged her on sight.

  “You didn’t hear what I said,” she told him slyly, licking her lips.

  “What, baby?” he asked, his body thrumming to get her out of that button-up shirt and to unzip those jeans. To toss her cowboy boots to the corner. She had a head full of brown curls now, and her cheeks were plump. Her green eyes sparkled. He adored every last curve her body had blossomed into and every last ounce of her round, sassy hips. God, she was a sight for his sore eyes.

  She laced her fingers around his ears, but a frown creased her brow. “Why so sad?”

  Tate shook his head, but said, “Just missed you, girl. What did you say I was too in love to hear?”

  A sultry glimmer shifted in her eyes. “I said I’m home, Tate.”

  He nodded. He got that. Yeah she was home—for now—but she’d be leaving too soon, and he just plain didn’t want to live like this anymore. He needed her in his life, not waiting on the peripheral while he chased around the country for the FBI. This wasn’t living. His fingers strayed to her collarbone on their way to the soft, plump weight of her breast. The burden he’d brought with him fell away.

  She smoothed her palms over his chest, her fingers splayed and capturing him in their gentle warmth once more. “Home, Tate. I’m home. Here. To stay.”

  He cocked his head, not sure he’d heard right. “As in you’re not going back to Texas?”

  That brought her ear against his chest. “Yes. This is where I belong. I start school on Monday. That gives us the weekend to do whatever we want to each other.”

  All he heard was ‘that gives us the weekend’. He bent to curl an arm under her knees and carried her into his bedroom. In seconds she was naked. What a sight, his woman in his bed. He stripped while she watched, then climbed up and over her, intent on tasting every inch of her skin. Making her scream his name. Loving her while he had the chance.

  Nose to nose, he could see that the fire burned both ways. Winslow had changed into a woman of strength. She knew what she wanted and she had no problem letting him know. “More,” she ground out as her fingernails dug into the cheeks of his bare ass. “I’m not going to break. Give it to me.”

  A more obedient man had never lived. Tate gave her every last inch, lick, and kiss until she climaxed, calling his name as he tipped her over the edge and into pleasure. Thunder rolled up his spine, squeezing off a live round of utter male satisfaction as he came within seconds of Winslow.

  Breathing hard, he bowed his face into the crook of her neck, sweating and tired, but at peace. This was where he belonged, wrapped up tight inside her body. The problems he’d brought home with him faded in the delightful glow of her feminine fire. Taking a deep breath, Tate rolled off Winslow but took her with him.

  She nestled under his arm, her head on his shoulder and her fingers languid on his chest. “Do you feel better now?”

  He nodded, his eyes closed a
nd his heart content. Being with her blocked the rest of the world, exactly what he needed. More of Winslow. Less of everyone else. “You’re really moving away from home to be with me?”

  Her fingers fluttered over his left nipple. “It was Dad’s idea and Mom agrees. A wife should be with her husband and besides, this is my home now. With you.”

  “I thought I could make this arrangement work,” Tate told her, “but the job’s been demanding lately and... Wait a minute. You start school on Monday?”

  The tip of her tongue slid over her bottom lip, hardening him on sight. “Ah-huh. I’ll be a student at Washington Alternative High while I finish my GED. Then, I’m going to college. Journalism, Tate. I want to try my hand at investigative reporting. I’ve already got a job offer and an interview next week if I’m interested.”

  “Let me guess. Shawna Truborn.”

  Winslow climbed up his body then, straddling his hips, her hands splayed for balance on his pecs. The sparkle in her eyes morphed into fire. “Can you believe it? She wants me to join her staff. I won’t be doing much more than copy editing at first, but isn’t it great?”

  Winslow glowed when she was happy, and there it was, her light, filling his empty room and his heart along with it. But there was more to the story. “Who? How…?” He didn’t know what to ask, and this sexy naked lady riding him like a horse wasn’t helping the blood supply in his brain. Tate cupped her jiggling breasts, his cock aroused and ready to play again.

  “Who helped me get into Washington Alternative? Oh, that was your boss. Mr. Chase can be quite persuasive, can’t he?” Why that irked Tate at this precise moment, he didn’t know.

  Winslow rattled on. “I wrote my story, Tate. Shawna said it was good. She wants to interview me for a follow-up piece, and from there...” Winslow lifted her arms, her palms to the ceiling and her lovely body on display. “Look out world. Here I come.”

  “You asked for it, babe. You are most definitely coming.” Tate cupped her hips and slid inside of her. With a jostle and a jiggle, he was home again and speechless. His woman and his heart were in the same place at the same time. With him. Like they should’ve been all along.

  She giggled, but gave him a solid hip thrust that seated her just right. He reached one hand to the nape of her neck and tugged her flush with his body. When the tips of her nipples kissed his pecs, he knew. He, Tate Higgins, the lonely man who’d been fighting the world for too long, had finally found his place. It wasn’t in this apartment or at the Lockette’s sprawling ranch in dusty Amarillo. It wasn’t in the J. Edgar Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue and Ninth Street either. No, it was here inside this woman. In her body. In her heart.

  He’d think about Tucker’s assisting Winslow later. He might even thank his boss for reaching out to her—later. But for now... “I love you, baby,” Tate told her from the depths of his warrior’s soul. “I always will.”

  She cupped jaw in both hands, her thumbs on his chin. “I am going to make love to you, Tate,” she promised. “All. Night. Long.”

  Tate settled his palms to the flare of her waist and let her rock his world.

  Over and over again.

  THE END

  Excerpt From ALEX

  In The Company of Snipers, Book 1

  ©2013 by Irish Winters

  The weathered porch creaked under his cautious step. Alex froze.

  What the—?

  There stood Whisper on the porch with his lips pulled back, his canines bared, and standing protectively over the splayed legs of a—what? A department store mannequin? A dead body? He couldn’t believe what he saw. Those outstretched legs belonged to a young woman sprawled against his cabin door, her head bowed to her chest, her hands limp at her side, palms up. Covered with blackened patches of blood and bruises, she looked dead.

  Whisper growled, for an instant threatening both master and his canine companion, Smoke.

  “Knock it off.” Alex brushed the dog out of his way, annoyed that the mutt thought he could get away with that kind of behavior. There was no contest. This was no fresh kill, and Whisper wouldn’t have won if it were. The dog whined once and backed away, relinquishing the porch to Alex, his tail tucked between his back legs.

  Alex knelt beside the woman, feeling her neck for a pulse. It took a few seconds to locate, but a weak beat stuttered beneath his fingertips. Lifting the tangled mass of hair away from her face, he ducked closer to get a better look. Her eyes popped open.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she moaned, shielding her face with her arm. “Please—”

  “Who are you?” Instantly, he was angry she would say something like that, but she didn’t answer. Her head lolled to her shoulder. He knelt closer, peering into her bloodied face. Did she just die?

  “No,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You started this. You’d better not die on me now.”

  Whisper whined, crowding Alex while he eased the woman to her back. “Back off.” He elbowed the dog. “Get out of here.”

  Whisper only stepped back two feet, turned a full circle, and came right back.

  Alex pressed his ear to the woman’s chest, holding his breath while he listened for a heartbeat. It was there and fairly steady considering how bad she looked and smelled. Sweat and dirt was not the welcome he had expected at his cabin. Neither was she. A ragged groan sounded deep in her throat. Okay. That was a good sign. Maybe she heard him. Maybe she actually listened and decided not to die.

  He sat back on his legs and blew a deep breath, his heart pounding at this abrupt about-face to what had been a relaxing afternoon walk. Glancing at the immediate forest around his cabin, he searched for a reason this mess of a woman would be here on his porch. There was nothing. No one. Just her.

  He ruffled Whisper’s thick black mane. “Sorry, tough guy, but you’ve got to give me some room to work, okay?”

  Still trying to calm down, he checked her pulse again and smoothed his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, hips and thighs. It didn’t look like she had anything major wrong with her, no broken legs or arms, but there was plenty of what looked like road-rash across her extremities and dried blood in her hair. As bad as she looked, he was afraid of a gunshot, but he found nothing. A concussion was a possibility, but it’s not like he was a doctor. He’d had some medical training in the Corps. A man didn’t survive warfare without knowing how to tourniquet a bloody limb or plug a sucking chest wound, but this was different. This was a woman.

  Damn. What do I do now?

  Whisper nestled his big black snout over Alex’s shoulder like he was offering free advice with his whine.

  “I know.” Alex scratched the dog’s nose. “You found her. Now what do we do with her? You got any bright ideas?”

  Whisper slapped the porch once with his moose-sized paw.

  “No. You can’t keep her. She’s not a toy,” Alex muttered as he came to grips with this new development. Talking to his dog helped normalize the shock he had just received, but he also found Whisper’s reaction odd. Smoke had taken up residence at the bottom of the porch steps, but Whisper acted like he knew this woman. Dogs. Go figure. They’re as hard to figure out as women.

  “Well, let’s get you off the porch and out of the weather, shall we?” Alex said to the woman. There weren’t a lot of choices. The option to hike back to the road had expired with the fading afternoon sun. Besides, he wasn’t convinced she was stable. She might die while he went for help. His cell phone wasn’t any good either. No bars out this far in the sticks, not like it mattered until now. Like it or not, she was all his.

  It took a minute to unlock the cabin door, and another to scoop her up and off the porch. She didn’t resist, her head limp and her arms dangling while he angled her through the door and set her on the cot inside. She was barely an armful, light as a feather and cold to the touch. Grabbing a blanket from the back room where he stored his supplies, Alex covered her gently. She was a pitiful sight, her cheek bruised, one eye swollen and bloodied. Even now a
bloody tear trailed over her cheek. He patted her cheek in an attempt to rouse her.

  “Hey there. Can you hear me? Can you talk?”

  Groaning, she rolled away.

  “Guess not.”

  ALEX is free!

  To start reading, click HERE.

  Thank you for reading Joker Joker!

  If you enjoyed Tate and Winslow’s story, you might want to check out Tucker and Melissa’s story and find out how the Deuces Wild team got its start in:

  King of Hearts, Deuces Wild Series, Book 1

  Book 3 is Isaiah’s story, One-Eyed Jack. It’s already in the works, so stay tuned!

  Also, pay a visit to the sexy ex-military snipers in the 15 book series,

  In the Company of Snipers.

  Coming soon in 2017 - Jake, Book 16

  Other Irish Winters’ books

  Smoke, Hearts and Ashes Series, #1

  Ash, Hearts and Ashes Series, #2

  The best way to keep up with my new releases, giveaways, and actionable intel is to sign up for my spam-free newsletter at IrishWinters.com.

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  About the Author

  Irish Winters is an award winning, Amazon best-selling author who, when she isn’t writing, dabbles in poetry, grandchildren, and rarely (as in extremely rarely) the kitchen. More prone to be outdoors than in, she grew up the quintessential tomboy on a dairy farm in rural Wisconsin, spent her teenage years in the Pacific Northwest, but calls the Wasatch Mountains of Northern Utah, home. For now.