Ace of Spades (Aces & Eights Book 3)

by Sandra Owens

  Not wanting to intimidate the girls, Nate stood back with Josh. Between them, Alex and Taylor finally convinced the girls to willingly come with them. Alex left a note on the mattress that Linda Harding would never read.

  “You’re letting this case get to you. You can’t save all the lost children, Taylor.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” But she could damn well try. Taylor handed Nate a beer. He’d insisted on bringing her home after they’d seen the girls safely into the hands of the social worker. It had shredded her heart to watch them holding each other after learning their mother would never return, their sobs still echoing in her ears long after the car carrying them away had disappeared.

  The few times Nate had been in Taylor’s small apartment, the place had seemed to shrink in size. It wasn’t only because he was a big man, but his persona was sometimes bigger than life. Not one to care much about fancy belongings, her furniture was secondhand. Her extra money was better spent on more important things, like Rosie. And her girls. Nothing was more important than her girls.

  Although she did have a weakness for pretty clothes and shoes, things she’d never had growing up. Since she didn’t go out much, she didn’t need many outfits, so she kept a firm rein on her clothing budget. For work, her chosen wardrobe was black pants; a tailored jacket; red, blue, or white blouses; and shoes she could run in when necessary.

  After Nate’s first visit, when she’d been afraid the chair he sat in might break, Taylor had gone out and bought her first brand-new piece, a sturdy blue leather recliner. He hadn’t hesitated to claim it as his own whenever he was here, and at the moment, he was sprawled on it, looking perfectly at home.

  She liked him here most times, but she didn’t need a lecture tonight. All she really wanted to do was kick him out and then crawl into bed, where she’d probably cry the night away. He knew that, which was why he seemed prepared to greet the morning from his chair. Sometimes she wished he didn’t know her so well.

  “We’ll need to talk to them again soon,” she said, sitting on her plaid couch and tucking her legs under her. “But let’s give them a day or two.” Once the girls had been told their mother wasn’t coming back, they hadn’t been in any condition to be questioned. At least the social worker who’d come to collect them had seemed like a compassionate, nice woman. Some were so burned out that they had no empathy for the children in their care.

  “They probably don’t know much, but yeah, we’ll have to talk to them . . . Or you will. I think I scare them.”

  “You’re a scary man.” To someone who didn’t know him, he was definitely intimidating, but as much as he tried to hide it, he was a softie inside. The man was prepared to spend the night in a chair because he didn’t think she should be alone right now. Probably the only people who understood his heart was one giant marshmallow were her, his brothers, and their wives.

  Taylor smiled. “Stop scowling. It’s true. And besides, you like everyone thinking you’re the big, bad wolf.”

  There was the slightest twitch of his lips. “Keeps them from messing with me.”

  Someday, she was going to make him actually laugh. It was her number-one goal in life. She shifted her gaze to the fish tank. Her hours didn’t accommodate having a cat or dog, but she needed something to take care of, hence Henry Cavill, her red-and-black betta fish.

  Nate’s chair was next to the tank, and Henry was at the edge of the glass, watching him. For some reason, Nate seemed to fascinate Henry. Taylor got that. The man fascinated her, too.

  “Sprinkle some food in Henry’s tank, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He trailed his finger across the glass, and Henry chased after it. It was a game they played, which Taylor found strange because she couldn’t get Henry to follow her finger. “You hungry, Henry?” Nate said, picking up the food and sprinkling a few flakes into the water. The fish torpedoed to the top, snapping up the food.

  She watched Nate watch Henry, taking advantage of Nate’s attention on the fish to admire him. Because that was one of her favorite things to do. He’d told her that he was one-quarter Seminole on his mother’s side, and his Native blood was there in his black hair—which he wore long and in a ponytail—and in his high cheekbones and olive skin. And lord, his black eyes, when he turned them on her, always made her feel gooey, like her insides were made of warm syrup.

  She’d had an immediate reaction to him the first time she’d seen him. It had been at the beginning of her second week when he’d walked into the office for a meeting with their boss. Want him, her brain and girly parts had clamored. He’d both intimidated and fascinated her, but as a newbie agent and the first woman in their field office, she couldn’t afford to make a misstep. She’d managed to keep her attraction to him hidden for an entire year.

  Then she’d been assigned to him and his brothers, her job to assist however needed in their undercover investigations. Life had suddenly become considerably more interesting. Not only had she given up on trying to hide her attraction to him, but she’d gone and fallen in love with the man. She’d bet her one pair of Jimmy Choos that he was just as interested in her. Only problem: he was still doing his best to hide it.

  “Stop staring at me,” he said, still eyeing the fish.

  “Make me.” Sometimes she just couldn’t resist poking the bear.

  Those smoldering black eyes landed on her. “Careful, Taylor. You haven’t a clue what you’re asking for.”

  No, she probably didn’t, but where he was concerned, she was willing to take the risk. She’d never asked him why he wore an “Off-Limits” sign, but she was feeling bold tonight. Maybe it was this case reminding her that there were no guarantees in life. One day she could be alive and breathing, and the next not. Rosie had taught her to go after what she wanted, and she wanted Nate.

  “Then clue me in. Don’t deny that you want me. I see it in your eyes. Well, I want you, too. So what’s the problem?” With a heart trying to pound itself out of her chest, she went to him, leaned down, and put her hands on his knees. “Give me a reason good enough to make me stop wanting you in my bed.”

  His eyes darkened, his pupils swirling with the turbulence of a storm-tossed sea. His gaze fell to her lips, and then without warning, she was pulled onto his lap. When his mouth crashed down on hers, she had the passing thought that he’d been right. She hadn’t had a clue what she was asking for.

  It wasn’t a gentle kiss. He possessed her, owned her, devoured her. His mouth was hot and hungry, and his tongue was relentless, tasting and licking as if she were his favorite candy. In her wildest imagination—and God knew she’d spent hours and hours imagining this moment—she’d been sorely lacking in envisioning how thrilling it would be to kiss Nate Gentry.

  His mouth tasted minty, like the Tic Tacs he was always sucking on, and his masculine scent surrounded her, something spicy that was uniquely him. Just kissing him wasn’t enough. She wanted all of him. “Nate,” she whispered against his lips, following her plea with a moan.

  He stilled, then pulled away.

  “Don’t stop.” She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip, damp from their kiss. “Please don’t stop.”

  “We can’t do this,” he said, picking her up with the ease he would a ten-pound sack of potatoes, and setting her on her feet. “I won’t do this.”

  “At least tell me why.” God, now she was begging. She never begged anyone for anything.

  He stood, collecting his keys from the coffee table. “You want a reason? Here it is. You’re my best friend, Taylor. If I give in to this thing between us, I’ll end up hurting you, and then I’ll lose you completely.”

  Well, as reasons went, it was a good one. She’d worried about the same thing, but they were both professionals. If they had a relationship and it ended, why couldn’t they still be friends? But if she tried to argue with him now, he’d just dig in.

  “Rosie’s been asking why you haven’t been to see her. Why don’t you pick me up at seven, and we’ll st
op by on our way to the office? That way I can see the girls before they leave for school.”

  She could tell he was about to refuse, so she shook her head. “I’ve been ordered not to show up again without you. I think Rosie loves you better than me. See you in the morning.” She gave him a smirk, then headed for her bedroom, leaving him standing at the door.

  As soon as she heard the door close behind him, she returned to the living room. She bent down, brought herself eye level with Henry, and trailed her finger across the glass. The fish ignored her.

  “What is it about him that fascinates both of us, Henry, my little man?” Henry had no answer. “Fine, ignore me like you always do.” She slid the deadbolt closed, then turned off the lights. After a shower, she grabbed her cell phone, taking it to bed with her. If she didn’t warn Rosie her favorite man was coming over in the morning so she could be pretty for him, Taylor would get a tongue-lashing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nate loved Taylor’s foster mother. He didn’t want to think about how Taylor’s life would have turned out without Rosie. He opened his arms for the hug Rosie would give him, whether he liked it or not. He did.

  “You naughty boy. Avoiding your Rosie,” she said, lifting her hands to their maximum reach to pinch his cheeks.

  “Never,” he said, meaning it. The woman was a tiny spitfire. The thing he liked the most about her was that she never saw him as a threat. Sometimes—most times—the people he came in contact with shied away. He cultivated a menacing persona, needed to be a mean-assed sonofabitch to keep the biker gangs frequenting Aces & Eights in line. But Rosie? She’d seen through him from day one. He just hoped she never told Taylor he was a softie.

  Against his will, his gaze slid to Taylor, who was currently on her back on the floor, buried by six giggling girls, ranging in ages from two to nine years old. Girls who would be lost in the system without Taylor and Rosie. His damn heart skipped a beat, and then another one.

  He’d kissed her, which had been the biggest mistake of his life. He’d not thought about anything else since their lips had touched. He’d not gotten a solid hour of sleep after returning home. Why not have an affair? You know you want her, the tiny, fork-wielding devil on his left shoulder had whispered in his ear. Because you’ll hurt her, the angel sitting on his other shoulder had quietly said.

  “When are you going to stop fighting whatever demon it is that’s holding you back?” Rosie said, following his gaze. “You think I don’t see how you look at her?”

  He could thank his father for his demons, and he had no choice but to fight them. Especially where Taylor was concerned. He knew the statistics. Had looked them up years ago.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, extracting himself from Rosie’s hold.

  She snorted—actually snorted. “Sure you don’t, but something’s changed between you two. I knew it as soon as you both walked in. Just so you know, I’m betting on my girl.”

  And that was why he hadn’t wanted to come today. Rosie had to be a witch, able to see things she shouldn’t. And yes, something sure as hell had changed between him and Taylor. Namely, that kiss. Sweet Jesus. He’d been poleaxed. Sucker punched by a woman he’d promised himself he’d never touch. And that knowledge had him thinking of asking for a transfer. That and the fact that Taylor didn’t have any intention of listening to him. He could tell her nine ways to Sunday that he’d only end up hurting her, but she’d stuffed her ears with balls of cotton.

  Rosie slapped his arm. “Man up, Nathan. She’ll either make you or break you.”

  “You’re imagining things, Rosie. There’s nothing going on between Taylor and me. You gonna offer me some of your delicious coffee or not?” She made the best café con leche, a Latin latte made with steamed milk and a shot of potent Cuban coffee.

  “Sí, sí. I have it brewing. Come sit.” She flitted off on size-four feet encased in pink-heeled slippers with pom-poms on them.

  Instead of following her into the kitchen where she could start on him again, Nate moved to the sofa where he could watch Taylor and the girls. All but the two-year-old were dressed in their school uniforms. Most mornings, Taylor tried to be here to walk them to the Catholic school two blocks away.

  Years earlier, Taylor and Rosie had managed to qualify as foster parents. Fortunately, Rosie had put her foot down, saying six was her limit, after the oldest girl, nine-year-old Brianna, had arrived. Otherwise, Nate figured if Taylor had her way, there’d be at the very least a baker’s dozen living here. He also knew this was where a good chunk of Taylor’s paycheck went, since what they received from the state wasn’t nearly enough to cover expenses.

  What Taylor didn’t know, because she would have refused his help, was that he slipped Rosie a couple hundred dollars whenever he visited. Rosie, bless her little self, had no qualms about taking his money, telling him the first time he’d offered, “I have no pride where my babies are concerned.” She also liked that they shared a secret from Taylor and had devised a scheme where he would slip the bills between the sofa cushions when Taylor wasn’t looking. Rosie was a sneaky devil and had charmed the hell out of him from day one.

  “Here you are,” Rosie said, handing him the latte. She set the second cup down on the coffee table. “Girls, go make your lunches while Taylor has her coffee.”

  He listened as Rosie filled Taylor in on how the girls were doing in school and any problems that had cropped up. In her early sixties, Taylor’s guardian angel had more energy packed in her small frame than most twenty-year-olds.

  When Taylor and Rosie went into the kitchen to hurry the girls up, Nate pushed two one-hundred-dollar bills between the cushions before following them. He enjoyed watching Rosie and Taylor interact with the girls. This house was so different than the one he’d grown up in. There was love and laughter instead of yelling and beatings.

  The only reason Taylor didn’t live here anymore was because Rosie had kicked her out, believing Taylor needed a life away from the responsibilities of raising six children.

  For the first few times he’d come here with Taylor, the girls had been afraid of him, and he hadn’t wanted to come back. But Rosie wasn’t having it, so he came with Taylor whenever he was invited. The girls had gotten used to him, but except for Annie, they were still shy around him. Each had a sad story that could break a heart, mostly from being abused in one way or the other by men.

  The only one who seemed to like him was the baby, who was now trying to crawl up his leg. He leaned down. “What does Annie want?”

  “Up, Nae,” she said, tugging on his pants.

  He picked her up. Her learning disabilities and poor language skills were a result of being born to a meth-addicted mother.

  “Walk now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” It had become a tradition for him to walk with Taylor and the girls to school whenever he was here, him carrying Annie. She was a cute little thing with her big black eyes, curly black hair, and dark-brown skin.

  She gave him a toothy grin as she patted his face. “Nae walk, Nae walk, Nae walk now,” she sang, bouncing in his arms.

  The trip to the school took about five minutes, and Nate trailed behind Taylor and the other girls, listening to Annie chatter away. He only understood half of her conversation, but she didn’t seem to care as long as he said “Oh, yeah?” the few times she paused and looked inquiringly at him.

  These mornings he spent with Rosie and Taylor’s little family were weird. The other mothers and a few fathers would greet them, believing he and Taylor were a couple, and she never disabused them of that assumption. Too often, he let himself pretend they were, the little boy who’d never felt the kind hand of his father, longing to be a part of the loving family Taylor had created. He needed to cut that shit out. They didn’t need him in their lives.

  “Good morning,” a woman with a little boy at her side said when they arrived at the crosswalk at the same time. At seeing Annie in his arms, she glanced from him to Taylor as if tryin
g to puzzle out why they had a black baby. That happened sometimes, those odd looks, and he always found himself tightening his hold on Annie, while clamping down on his urge to say something snarky.

  “Morning, Rhonda,” Taylor said. She bent down. “How did you do on your spelling test, Jared?”

  “C-A-T,” Jared responded with a big grin on his face.

  “Wow, that’s very good.”

  “I can spell dog,” Sarrie, Taylor’s six-year-old, said. “And cow, and house, and Rosie, and . . .”

  The group crossed the street, the kids tossing out all the words they could spell. Nate stayed at the corner with Annie, waiting for Taylor to return. He never went any farther than this. From here, he could keep an eye on her and the girls as they walked up to the school’s entrance. There were too many mothers and their children on that side for his comfort.

  “Bye-bye,” Annie said, waving her little hand.

  Brianna turned, walking backward, a grin on her face. “Bye-bye, Annie.” She waved back.

  “Nae walk.” Annie leaned away from him, wanting to go with her sisters.

  “You’ll see them this afternoon, little girl.” He turned her away from being able to see them disappear past those double doors, having learned that she would cry at losing sight of them. He glanced over his shoulder. “Here comes Taylor. Time to go home. Rosie’s already missing you, you know.”

  “Rosie!” she yelled into his ear, forgetting she’d been ready to cry.

  Taylor walked up to them, holding out her arms to take Annie from him. Usually, Annie went right to her, but for the first time, she shook her head. “No.” She patted his cheek. “Walk, Nae.”

  “What do you know? The big, bad wolf isn’t so unlovable after all,” Taylor said, amusement in her voice.

  He gave Taylor a smirk, but the heart that had turned into a solid chunk of rock the day his mother had climbed into Harmon Baker’s truck suffered a hairline crack. He hid his face behind Annie, not wanting Taylor to see that something was going on in his head that even he didn’t understand. Didn’t want to understand, truthfully. He was perfectly fine with his life just the way it was.