Ace of Spades (Aces & Eights Book 3)

by Sandra Owens

  Nate hadn’t said a word since she’d started recapping her conversation with Delaney. Her eyes kept straying to him even though she didn’t want them to. He was perched on the edge of Court’s desk, his expression still unreadable. She’d give anything to know what he was thinking.

  Nate didn’t know what to do with the ache in his chest that had taken up residence when Taylor had told him she wanted to go back to just being friends. He’d never felt anything like this before because of a woman. Friends only was for the best, so why did he want to throw her over his shoulder, take her to his bedroom, and make love to her until she admitted they were more than friends?

  What was wrong with him? He didn’t make love. He fucked. Admit it, dude. It’s not like that with her. She means more to you than wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. So what if she did? It didn’t change anything. He’d still never marry, so he had nothing to offer.

  “This afternoon, he showed up with a shopping bag in his hand.”

  Nate tuned back in to what Taylor was saying.

  “He made the same offer, along with telling her that he’d brought her a present. When they got to the room, he took a white dress out of the bag, saying, ‘Marry me, Delaney, and I’ll take you away from this life. You’re going to be a beautiful angel.’ Delaney didn’t like the way his eyes glowed. ‘His eyes were wild, like some of those crazy preachers I watch on TV,’ she said. So she told him that she wasn’t putting on the dress, and then she tried to leave. He grabbed her, and they fought. She was smart enough to knee him where it would hurt the most. When he doubled over in pain, she was able to get away. She ran to the office, and the night clerk called the police.”

  “Maybe that answers why she has bruises and the others didn’t,” Nate said. “If they agreed to put on the dress before he killed them without fighting him.”

  Taylor turned to him, but instead of meeting his eyes, her gaze was on his left shoulder. “Or he could have put the dresses on the others after he killed them.”

  What? She couldn’t even look at him now? He wanted to turn the clock back to when they were best friends without this awkwardness between them, while at the same time, he wanted to drag her onto his lap and not stop kissing her until those blue eyes saw nothing but him.

  Damn her. He was off his game because of her. And if Alex didn’t stop smirking, as if he knew a woman had brought his big brother to his knees, Nate was going to assign Alex dishwashing duties at Aces & Eights for the next month. Because that was how he felt—cut off at the knees by a woman half his weight with twice his brains who was his equal on the mat. A woman he wanted to handcuff to his bed and never let go.

  Suddenly angry with her for making his chest hurt, he said, “You should have told me all this at the hospital so I could call Rothmire, have the scene preserved.”

  Icy blue eyes finally met his. “I called him as soon as Delaney told me about the hotel. He already knew where she’d been found, the cops preserved the room, and our crime scene techs are there now.”

  And he felt like an idiot. Of course she was on top of things. She always was. “Good. Anything else?”

  “Yes. He said, ‘My angels are making me angry today,’ and then he tried to choke her.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, Nate. When I find him, I’ll be sure and ask.”

  Alex tapped Court on the shoulder. “You feeling the chill in here, too?”

  Nate scowled. His baby brother had a habit of poking his nose into things that weren’t any of his business.

  “Stop glaring at me,” Alex said. “That was just a general observation.”

  “Shut up, Alex.” He wondered if Court had any duct tape in his doomsday supplies that he could use to slap over his baby brother’s mouth.

  Court laughed. “You’re asking the impossible from him.” He glanced at Taylor. “Did he tell her his name?”

  “Oh, right. Forgot to mention that. He told her she could call him Gabriel. She doesn’t believe that was his real name, though.”

  “You think his reference is to the angel Gabriel?” Court said.

  She shrugged. “Could be. Any of you know what his role as an angel was?”

  “Let’s look him up.” Court swiveled his chair around and in seconds had a page on the archangel Gabriel up on the monitor.

  Nate leaned over Court’s shoulder, reading the screen. “‘Archangel of resurrection, mercy, revelation, and death.’” He blew out a breath. “I hate these nut jobs.”

  When he straightened, he accidently brushed against Taylor’s arm, his skin rippling where they touched. She jerked away as if he’d burned her. He put his back to the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and scowled. She was making him crazy.

  Which was why it took longer than it should have to remember the angel she’d found near her car. “Hell.” At his outburst, all eyes turned to him, but his focused on Taylor. “What’d you do with that plastic angel?”

  “You don’t think . . .” She trailed off, her face losing its color.

  “After hearing what Delaney said, I think it’s entirely possible he left that for you.”

  “I put it in the lost-and-found box.”

  “Is it still there?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He pulled his phone out and called Rand. “Are you headed this way?” At getting an affirmative, Nate instructed him to stop by the office at Taylor’s apartment building and check the lost-and-found box for a small plastic angel.

  Court eyed him for a moment, and then said, “While we’re waiting to hear back from him, I might have something. Not sure. A few years ago, someone from the police department of Glade, a town near the Everglades, entered an unsolved murder in a Florida cold-case database, although the case isn’t so much unsolved as the suspect was never arrested.”

  He lifted a few sheets of paper. “You can read the report, but I’ll give you a quick summary. Thirty-one years ago, Gretchen Tompkins and her eleven-year-old son, Wayne, lived in Glade. Back then, the town had two cops, Bert Archer and Doug Emmitt. Gretchen was a prostitute who caught the eye of Doug Emmitt. He asked her to marry him. The wedding never happened because she was strangled on her wedding day.”

  “What makes you think this might be related?” Nate asked.

  “Ah, good question. Because she was wearing a white dress and had a gold band on her finger even though the wedding hadn’t taken place yet.”

  Nate glanced at Taylor. “Are you feeling the buzz?” It was a question they asked each other when instinct said they were on to something.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Well, at least she was still talking to him, even if she didn’t want him touching her. And that thought put the scowl right back on his face.

  She grabbed the pages Court was holding. “Who was their suspect? Doug Emmitt?”

  Court nodded. “The one and only. He disappeared the same day, never to be seen again. Her son witnessed the murder. Said it was Emmitt.”

  “So this ex-cop is going around all these years later killing prostitutes?” Alex said.

  Taylor grabbed on to Alex’s arm. “Or the son. How old would he be now?” She scanned the report. “Forty-two. That fits with what Pauline’s told us.”

  Nate narrowed his eyes at the hand she had on Alex, wanting to yank it away. “We need to find out the whole story. Why did he kill her? What happened to the boy?”

  “Bert Archer’s retired now, living in the same house that he did when he was a cop,” Court said.

  “That makes it easy.” Nate nodded at Alex. “Tomorrow, take a ride over to Glade and interview him. Take Josh with you.”

  Alex nodded. “I’ll call him when we finish and let him know.”

  When Nate’s phone buzzed, he answered, saying, “Was it there?”

  “No,” Rand said. “I tracked down the apartment’s manager, and he didn’t see a plastic angel in the box or who might have taken it.”

  “Okay, head this way. We’re lea
ving for the bar soon, but the girls are having a pizza party.” It was Rand’s night to keep watch over Taylor.

  “Be there in ten.”

  “The angel’s not there,” Nate said when he hung up.

  “Maybe someone did drop it and reclaimed it,” Taylor said.

  “Possible.” He didn’t believe in coincidences, though.

  Alex stretched, then stood. “If we’re done here, I’ll head on over to Aces and Eights. Taylor’s going to hang with the girls tonight. They’re going to eat pizza, drink wine, and talk about us.” He winked at Taylor.

  “I’ll head over with you,” Court said.

  “I’ll be there soon.” After his brothers left, Nate tried to think of something to say that would fix things between him and Taylor. He had nothing.

  Taylor held up the report Court had given her. “I meant to ask Court if I could keep this.”

  “Sure. He’ll have extra copies. Since you don’t have your car here, Rand will be waiting downstairs when you’re ready to go home. He’s got the watch tonight.”

  “Okay.” She edged toward the door. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Nate put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “We need to talk. If not tonight, then have lunch with me tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Text me when I’m supposed to meet with the sketch artist.”

  “Dammit, Taylor, I said I was sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Good night.”

  He wanted to tackle her, keep her from leaving before he had his say, but he let her go. She’d turned into an ice queen, and he hated the frost coming off her. Why couldn’t she understand that he hadn’t meant what he’d said the way it had sounded? He kicked Court’s chair back under the desk.

  He clenched his jaw. This isn’t over, tiger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The minute Taylor settled into a lounge chair, joining Lauren and Madison on the balcony, a black cat jumped onto her lap. “Well, hello. Who are you?”

  “That’s Hemingway,” Madison said. “He spends his day mostly sleeping in our bookstore window, then comes home with us at the end of the day.”

  “He alternates nights with us.” Lauren reached over to rub the cat behind his ears. “Tonight’s my night to have him.”

  Madison filled a glass with wine and handed it to Taylor. “It’s so weird. He actually knows his routine. If it’s his night with me, he follows me off the elevator when we reach the eighth floor. When it’s Lauren’s turn to have him, he waits for the door to open on the ninth floor.”

  “You’re a very smart kitty,” Taylor said, rubbing him behind the ears the way Lauren had, getting a loud purr from the cat. She’d love to have a cat, but couldn’t bear to leave an animal alone as much as she’d have to. Hemingway made three circles, then curled up on her lap.

  After the pizza arrived, they chatted about mundane things while they ate and drank wine. Getting approval from his owners, Taylor shared a little of her cheese with Hemingway. When their glasses were empty, Madison filled them all up again.

  Taylor was the most relaxed she’d been in days, and she hoped she’d occasionally be invited over for more nights with Madison and Lauren. A nice breeze blew off the ocean, and as she listened to the sound of the waves hitting shore on the beach, her thoughts returned to Nate.

  “At what point in a relationship does a woman have the right to ask for an exclusive?” Taylor said. Two pairs of wide eyes focused on her, causing her to giggle. She never giggled, but obviously three glasses of wine put a lie to that. “Just asking for a friend.”

  “Uh-huh,” Madison said, then seemed to find that funny, laughing so hard that wine sloshed onto her hand.

  Lauren took her glass away from her. “This friend, is she in love with him?”

  “No!” Okay, more like she wished she wasn’t. She made a mental note to limit herself to two glasses of wine in the future, since it appeared that she was willing to spill state secrets when she was buzzy.

  “But I want her to be in love with him,” Madison whined.

  Taylor crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, she’s not.”

  “I think she protests too much.” Madison tugged on Lauren’s sleeve. “Right?”

  “And I think you’re cut off.” Lauren grinned at Taylor over Madison’s slumping head. “Wine puts her to sleep. She’ll be snoring in about two minutes.”

  “Don’t snore,” Madison mumbled, then her body slid down, her head landing in Lauren’s lap.

  “And she’s out for the count.” Lauren brushed the hair out of Madison’s face. “To answer your question, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your friend broaching the subject with the man she’s seeing. If a certain Gentry brother happened to be the man in question, I’m pretty sure he’s not dating anyone but your friend.”

  “Um, my friend did broach the subject of being exclusive with him while they were together . . . and I’m not saying it was one of the Gentry brothers. Anyway, he said, ‘I’ll give it a go.’” She really needed to shut her mouth, and she really shouldn’t be telling this to the wife of one of Nate’s brothers. But she’d never had girlfriends, women she could talk to who would understand. The wine had definitely loosened her tongue.

  “He didn’t!”

  “Oh, yeah, he did. Well, that’s what my friend said.” It was silly to cling to the friend scenario when they both knew she was the friend, but it was easier to talk about as long as she was pretending it wasn’t her.

  “And how did you . . . I mean, your friend respond?”

  “She got pissy.”

  Lauren snorted a laugh. “Good for her.”

  “Maybe. But I think she overreacted, and now she doesn’t know how to . . .” It was time to shut up. She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late, and I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  “This was fun,” Lauren said. “We should have a girls’ night once a week.”

  “I’d like that.” She handed Hemingway, who’d stayed in her lap, over to Lauren. “I won’t ask you not to repeat our conversation to Court, but—”

  “Girls’ night conversations aren’t for sharing. That’s the rule.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let myself out. Good night.”

  Lauren waved. “Night.”

  Early the next morning, Taylor headed straight to the gym, with Rand following behind her. After a restless night, she needed a hard workout to clear her mind. In the locker room, she took the leather bag containing her gun and phone from her purse, then put her purse and the clothes she’d put on after a shower in a locker.

  “What are you attacking today?” Rand asked.

  “The treadmill.”

  “I’ll be in the weight room. Let me know when you’re ready to go,” Rand said.

  “I’m going to do an hour run.” For some reason, she could do her best thinking when running, and she had a lot to think about. “You’ve been up all night. I’m safe here, and the building’s right across the street. Why don’t you head home and get some sleep?”

  He gave her an eye roll, then headed for the weight room. Gah, she hated having to be babysat. Sighing in frustration, she wrapped a towel around her neck, then stepped onto the treadmill. She set the leather bag in the tray and then switched on the machine, setting it for a warm-up. Five minutes later, she turned the speed up.

  The biggest thing on her mind was Nate, and that wasn’t good. She needed to be concentrating on their case, not her love life or lack thereof. Someone stepped onto the treadmill next to her, but she didn’t look over. Didn’t want to encourage a conversation.

  What was she going to do about Nate? Yes, she’d overreacted to his stupid comment. Between the case and being stalked, missing her girls, and her head filled with all things Nate, she was operating on a short fuse.

  Thirty minutes into her run, she made a decision. She couldn’t stand the way things were between them, and she was as much to blame for that as Nate. The best thing to
do was to turn the clock back to before she’d slept with him, to when they were best friends. It would be hard to forget how amazing it was to be with him, but she could do it.

  “You seem in deep thought, Ms. Collins.”

  She glanced over at the man on the treadmill next to hers. “Oh, hello, Mr. Tillman. Just trying to convince my legs that they can make it another twenty minutes.” Not wanting to encourage him, she faced forward.

  “How about just Wade? Mr. Tillman sounds like you’re talking to my father.”

  “Sure,” she said, not looking at him.

  He was silent for about two minutes, and then said, “May I call you Taylor?”

  Had she told him her first name? She thought back to when he’d introduced himself last week, remembering that she had. “If you wish,” she said, letting her voice go cold. Take the hint, Mr. Tillman. It seemed he got the message, as he stayed silent after that.

  At the end of another ten minutes, she slowed the treadmill for a cool down. Her legs were on fire. Muscles screaming in protest after a good workout always gave her satisfaction. She stepped off the treadmill, scrubbed her face with the towel, and then grabbed her leather bag.

  “May I buy you a cup of coffee, Taylor?”

  Crap. The man was quickly moving into pest status. He wasn’t bad-looking, and fifteen or so years on her wasn’t a deal breaker, but she had zero interest in encouraging him. She was still licking her Nate wounds.

  “Um—” Her cell phone vibrated, signaling she had a text. “Excuse me a minute,” she said, grateful for the interruption. She angled the leather bag so he couldn’t see her gun and slipped her phone out. Nate’s name came up on the screen.

  Is he bothering u

  She glanced up to see Nate leaning against the wall, a scowl on his face as he stared at Wade Tillman.

  A little

  Never taking his eyes off her, he strode toward her like a man on a mission. “Hey, babe,” he said on reaching her.

  Babe?

  He put his arms around her shoulders, tucking her against his side. “Ready to go?”

  Something like displeasure flashed in Mr. Tillman’s eyes, then it was gone. What was that all about? She should probably introduce him to Nate, but she didn’t want to start up a conversation with the man. He was beginning to rub her wrong. Besides, he wasn’t a friend, and she didn’t want to encourage him to think he was.