Ace of Spades (Aces & Eights Book 3)

by Sandra Owens

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  “Take us with you, Mama,” Nate Gentry said. She couldn’t just walk away and leave them with the old man. He would blame them when he found her gone, and that meant a beating.

  She put her hand—rough from hard work—on his cheek. “This is the hardest day of my life. If I take you, he will find us and kill us all. This he has sworn to do if I dared such a thing. There is a reason I must go, but you are strong boys, and you will grow up to be men I can be proud of.”

  She kissed each of them as tears streamed down her face. “Nathan, you will see that you and your brothers study hard and get good grades. Court, you will help your older brother protect Alex.” She knelt. “My baby. This will be the hardest for you, but be brave and strong for your brothers. Can you do that, Alex?”

  Seven-year-old Alex burst into tears. Nate fisted his hands, hating that their mother was making his baby brother cry. Even Court’s lips were trembling, but for some reason he refused to look at her. There was something in his middle brother’s eyes, almost like hate, that Nate didn’t understand.

  “Please, Mama. Don’t leave us with him.” Nate hated begging, but he had to make her take them, too. She stood, the tears still coursing down her face, and he was sure that meant she would agree.

  “I’m sorry, son. If I did, he wouldn’t stop until he found us.” Suddenly, she pulled him to her, hugging him hard. “Always know that I love you, Nathan.” She let go of him and glanced down the dirt road. “I must go before he returns.”

  She picked up the garbage bag holding her meager belongings, gave the boys one last sad smile, and then walked away, her shoulders slumped. A few steps down the road, she stopped and turned, and openly sobbing now, blew them a kiss before continuing on. Nate squeezed his eyes shut. He was eleven years old. He was too old to cry.

  “Go do your chores before he comes home,” Nate told his brothers. They shuffled away, Alex’s sobs fading as the boys rounded the corner of the two-bedroom house, badly in need of a coat of paint and a new roof. As soon as they were out of sight, Nate slipped into the trees lining the dirt road and followed his mother. In his young mind, he thought if he knew where she was moving to, he could gather up his brothers and just show up one day. She was their mother. She wouldn’t turn them away.

  His parents had had a fight earlier, and the old man had knocked her around. Nate didn’t know what it was about this time. Most days, his father didn’t need a reason, especially when he was drunk. They’d all been on the receiving end of those fists far too often, especially their mother. He didn’t blame her for leaving, but she should have taken them with her.

  At the end of the dirt road, he stopped behind a tree, and watched in disbelief as Harmon Baker opened the passenger door of his old pickup truck. After Nate’s mother got in, Harmon glanced up and down the two-lane country road, then ran around the front of the truck, jumped in, and took off. Harmon occasionally did odd jobs for their old man. Sometimes Nate had wished that he were their father because he was nice to them, but now he hated the man for taking their mother away. He hated his mother even more for choosing Harmon over her sons, and for that he would never forgive her.

  Nate heard his father’s truck—which had needed a new muffler for as long as he could remember—coming down the road. He ran as fast as he could back to the house. By the time the old man walked out to the pigsty, Nate was busy mucking it out.

  “Where’s your ma, boy?”

  “In the house, I reckon.” He kept his back to his father, afraid he’d see the lie on his face.

  “No she ain’t.”

  “Then I don’t know.” He narrowed his eyes at his brothers, signaling them to keep their mouths shut. When the old man stomped off, Nate said, “We don’t know nothing, okay?” Alex nodded, his eyes filling with tears again, but Court’s gaze shifted away.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Nate asked Court. He knew his brothers, and there was something going on with Court beyond their mother leaving.

  “Leave me alone.” Court threw his shovel across the pen, almost hitting the pig, then took off, running for the woods.

  Nate watched him for a minute, then picked up Alex. “Hey, little man, what say we go for a swim in the pond?”

  “Okay,” Alex said around the thumb he sucked on. Until now, it had been five years since his baby brother had last sucked his thumb.

  They were going to get a beating when the old man finally realized their mother was gone, and whether or not they finished their chores wouldn’t matter. They might as well do something to deserve the coming punishment.

  The next day when his teacher asked about his black eye, he said that he’d fallen when he’d gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. She never asked why he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt on a hot Florida day.

  The beating from the old man had been the worst yet—and there had been many over the years—since he was the only one in the house during his father’s drunken rage. Nate had hidden his brothers in the woods that night so their father couldn’t get his hands on them. Nate never told them their mother had run away with another man.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nate Gentry sat in his car, studying the small house on the other side of the street. Harmon Baker had left Ocala, disappearing the same time Nate’s mother had. Back then, it had only reinforced Nate’s belief they’d run away together. Now he questioned his young self’s conclusion, and the time had come to find out the truth.

  He’d tracked Harmon to this run-down house in Dunnellon, a mere thirty-minute drive from Ocala, where Nate had grown up. When he’d run a search for Harmon Baker, he’d been surprised to learn the man had never married. Was his mother in there? Ever since his middle brother had shared the secret he’d kept since the day their mother had walked away from them, Nate didn’t know what to think anymore.

  According to Court, their mother had been pregnant and had run away because their bastard of a father had tried to beat the baby out of her. The revelation had shaken Nate to his core. He opened the car door, getting out. Had he been wrong about her all these years? If he had been, shame on him. Guess he was about to find out.

  He probably should have at least stayed for Court’s wedding reception, but after hearing his brother’s confession, as soon as the ceremony was over, he’d left. Not cool, but too many bad memories had broken out of the mind boxes he’d locked them into when he’d been a boy. It was either leave as soon as he could or ruin the rest of Court’s wedding reception because of his rotten mood. He loved his brother too much to do that.

  So he’d pulled his boss aside as soon as the ceremony was over, asked for and had been granted two days off. Now he was digging into the past, something he’d tried hard to never think about. Did he want to do this? Open old wounds?

  Nate paused a few feet from the door. Alex and Court were determined to find their mother, Nate’s opinion on the matter be damned. Before he’d allow them to be hurt all over again, he’d get answers. He’d been their protector from the day each was born, and he didn’t know how to stop now. If their mother had left them for something other than another man, he wanted to know.

  As he took a step toward the house, his phone rang with the tone Nate had set for his boss, special agent in charge of the Miami office of the FBI. As usual, Rothmire’s timing sucked. Bringing the phone to his ear, Nate headed back to his car. If the boss was calling at eight in the morning—after giving Nate two days off—it wasn’t to chat about what they eac
h planned for breakfast.

  “What’s up?” Nate asked.

  “Another woman at the same dumping ground as the first two. The local police got an anonymous tip on where to find the body.”

  Damn. Three meant they had a serial killer on their hands. When the second body had been found, the evidence pointing to the same killer, the bureau had been put on alert. With this third one, the FBI would be taking over the investigation.

  Nate headed back to his car. “The first two were found in the Everglades, right?”

  “Yep. Since they were prostitutes, it’s likely we’ll find out this one was, too, once she’s identified. I want you on the scene.”

  Nate glanced at his watch. “I’m in Dunnellon.” Which Rothmire already knew, since his agents went nowhere without the boss being aware of their locations at all times. “It’ll take me four or five hours to get there.”

  “No it won’t. There’s a helicopter on the way to the Dunnellon airport to pick you up. Rand’s riding along with the copter. He’ll drive your car back. One of the local cops will be waiting for you to take you to the scene.”

  “Why am I going there?” He worked undercover.

  “You’re the lead on this one. Taylor should get there about the time you do.” Rothmire hung up without waiting for an answer, which was typical.

  Nate stared at his phone in confusion. This wasn’t an undercover operation. Taking the lead would make him visible. What was Rothmire up to? Until the boss was ready to clue him in, he would remain in the dark.

  Shrugging, he slid behind the wheel of his car. Harmon Baker and his secrets would have to wait. As he pulled away, he glanced at the house that looked like a heavy wind could knock it over. A dingy curtain in the front window fluttered closed. Someone had been watching him. As tempted as he was to stop the car and knock on the door now that he was here, he didn’t have the time to spare. Whatever answers that house held would have to wait.

  When Nate arrived at the scene, Taylor Collins, his fellow agent, was already there. At the sight of her, Nate’s heart did a little bounce. “Stop that,” he muttered, warning his stupid heart to quit wanting what it couldn’t have. She was special, not for the likes of him. Besides, she was his best friend, and he wasn’t about to screw that up by having an affair when he had nothing to offer her or any other woman.

  As he walked toward her, his gaze roamed over her—as it always did, whether he wanted it to or not. Sleek blonde hair an inch longer than her ears, blue eyes that reminded him of his beloved ocean, and legs that went on forever. In the darkest hours of the night, when he was alone in his bed, he would imagine them wrapped around him.

  She glanced over and, at seeing him, a smile curved her lips that seemed like they were made for kissing. He didn’t smile back, nor did she expect him to. But he craved hers, and when she did gift him with that smile—unlike any she gave others—it seemed as if the sun had suddenly appeared on a cloudy day. So far, he’d managed to hide his reaction to her, but that was getting harder to do.

  “Morning, boss,” she said, saluting him. “I was surprised when Rothmire said you’re heading up this investigation. Are you putting your undercover days behind you?”

  “Beats me,” he said, coming to a stop next to her. “You know Rothmire. I’ll learn the answer to that when he’s ready for me to.” He subtly inhaled her citrusy fragrance. Her tart, fresh smell had been a surprise the first time he’d been close enough to catch her scent. He’d expected something flowery. On meeting her for the first time, men—him included—often made the mistake of thinking she was a fragile female in need of their protection.

  He inwardly snorted. She was so far from fragile that it was a rare man who could best her. She was an expert markswoman, held a Krav Maga black belt, could hit a bull’s-eye with a knife without trying, and had twice his brainpower. In other words, she was the hottest woman he’d ever met. And one he could never have. So even though she’d given off signals that she was interested, he’d pretended not to notice. That was getting harder to do, too.

  She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Did you complete your mission?”

  “No. Rothmire called right as I was walking up to the door.” Although their boss knew where Nate had gone, Taylor was the only one who knew why. As for his brothers, he hadn’t shared his plans and wouldn’t until he got answers. He wouldn’t get their hopes up that their mother was still alive or would want to see them.

  “Bummer,” she said. “Well, let’s catch this bastard so you can finish what you started.”

  She was right. Now that their perp had moved into serial-killer status, their time would be devoted to the case 24/7 until they caught him or her.

  “Let’s go piss off some cops, then.” Nate had great respect for all members of law enforcement, but the ones he could hear trampling around inside the tree line were from a small town and didn’t have a fraction of the training he and Taylor had on how to look for and preserve evidence. They weren’t going to appreciate the FBI taking over, but whatever. It wasn’t his job to soothe their hurt feelings.

  “That went well,” Taylor said, after they’d sent four grumbling cops and their captain to handle traffic control. Drivers were slowing their cars at seeing the police cruisers, their blue lights flashing, parked along the side of Tamiami Trail, better known to the locals as Alligator Alley.

  Nate snorted. “You have a talent for understatement, my friend.”

  “My talents are many, Nate.” She winked at him as she snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

  Stop saying things like that, Taylor. He watched her walk away, taking a moment to restart his brain before he followed her into the swamp. Why’d their killer have to use this place as his dumping ground? He slapped his arm, smashing a mosquito. What was wrong with a dumpster in the city or an alley in town where there weren’t things that wanted to bite you?

  “Christ, something ate her leg off,” Nate said as he came in full view of the body.

  “An alligator, I imagine.”

  Nate scanned around him. If there was a gator nearby, he wanted to know. “I guess we’re lucky he didn’t drag her to his lair.” He frowned. “Do they have lairs?”

  “Beats me. I’m a city girl. Look at this.” She bent over the body, eyeing the victim’s left hand. “Rothmire thinks that she’ll be a prostitute like the other two, but she’s wearing a wedding ring. Most prostitutes aren’t married. And her dress . . . White isn’t a color a street hooker tends to buy. Too hard to keep clean.”

  Taylor would know. Her Russian-born mother had turned to prostitution after her American boyfriend had abandoned her and their young daughter, leaving them homeless and hungry.

  “Do we know what the first two were wearing?” When Taylor shook her head, he took out his phone. “I’ll call Rothmire. See what we have on them.” He studied the dead woman while he waited for the boss to answer. She appeared to be in her early thirties and had all the signs of a drug user—hollow cheeks from malnutrition, and, because her mouth was open, he could see she was missing two bottom teeth.

  “It’s me,” he said when Rothmire answered. “We’re at the scene. It’s not pretty, let me tell you. When will the crime scene people be here?”

  “Ten minutes, give or take. Can you tell how she was killed?”

  Nate eyed the body. “From the bruises on her neck, she appears to have been strangled.” Of course, they wouldn’t know for sure until they got the results of the autopsy, but Taylor was right. Something didn’t add up.

  “I have the reports from the first two victims,” Rothmire said. “They both were strangled.”

  “Were either wearing a wedding ring?” He heard the rustling of pages as Rothmire searched for an answer to his question. “Also, what kinds of clothes were they wearing?”

  “Now, that’s interesting you asked. Yes, both had a gold band on their left ring finger. Both have been identified, and neither were married. As to what they were wearing, also interesting. Eac
h had on a white dress.”

  Nate watched Taylor as she took pictures with her phone. “Well, we’ve just confirmed all three were killed by the same person, then.”

  “You can ride back with Taylor. Head here as soon as the crime scene techs get there. We need to get on this. Three in two months means we’ll have another one soon if we don’t stop him.”

  “Will do.” After hanging up, Nate filled Taylor in on the dresses and rings.

  As was her habit when upset or thinking, she chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m going to catch this bastard, Nate. No woman deserves to end up in a swamp with body parts missing.” She pushed his hand away when Nate, understanding she was thinking of her mother, touched her arm. “He married them, or made them think he did.”

  He let her pretend that she wasn’t hurting, even though he knew she was. “Maybe offered them a way to get off the streets?” Movement to her left drew his eyes. “Shit. Snake!” The slithery thing was headed straight for them, its tongue flickering as it tasted the air.

  Before Nate could get to his gun, Taylor had hers out, her shot exploding the snake’s head. He eyed her in admiration. Damn, she was hot. “Nice shooting, tiger.”

  She grinned. “I’ll let you take out the next one.”

  “No way. You’re my hero. You see a snake anywhere near me, you go for it.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Hate the things.”

  Taylor patted Nate’s arm, amused that he was afraid of a snake twenty feet away from them. “I’ll save you from all the slithery creatures.” She reluctantly stopped touching him. She’d been in love with Nate Gentry for almost a year, and sometimes she was sure she saw heat in his eyes when he looked at her. Sadly, he’d put himself off-limits. She wasn’t sure why, but she was working on figuring it out, and when she did, all bets were off.

  The local police captain came running toward them, his gun drawn. “What’s happening? I heard gunfire.”

  Nate stepped in front of Taylor as if to protect her from the excitable cop. Standing behind his back, she rolled her eyes. But she’d just killed a snake for him, so she let him play protector for her.