Ace of Spades (Aces & Eights Book 3)

by Sandra Owens

  Her stomach churned at seeing herself through the years, at recess on the playground, getting off the school bus, playing in her yard at home, and on and on. There was even one of her at her high school graduation in cap and gown. Rosie had taken her away to keep her safe, but it had been an illusion. He could have stolen her away at any time. Why hadn’t he?

  Seeing her girls on that wall brought the realization that she could commit cold-blooded murder and sleep like a baby afterward.

  Nate stepped up to the wall. “Why is there a gap? It looks like there was a four- or five-year span where he wasn’t watching you.”

  “You’re right. After the graduation picture, there aren’t any until I was assigned to the Miami field office. My scholarship was at the University of Maryland, so maybe that was too far away for him to keep tabs on me?”

  Nate glanced at her. “That would explain it.”

  “Guys,” Court said, standing in front of an open desk drawer.

  That was all he said, but it was the sharp tone of his voice that got their attention. She, Nate, and Alex crowded around him, watching as he picked up one plastic angel after another—the same as the one she’d found near her car—setting them on the desk.

  There were seven of them, six with names printed on them with a black marker. One in particular had her sucking in a breath. She picked it up with her gloved hand. “Raisa,” she whispered, hating that tears stung her eyes and her lips trembled.

  Nate stepped up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll get him, tiger.”

  Yes, she was a tiger. Strong and fearless. She stiffened her spine. “No. I’ll get him.” She looked over her shoulder at Nate. “He’s mine.” Gently placing the angel next to the others, she read off the names. “Raisa, Brenda, Alana, Stacy, Linda, Barb”—the last one found behind the grocery store and only identified this morning—“and we have to assume the one without the name is meant for me.”

  Nate’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Never.”

  There was such vengeance in his voice, and she closed her eyes at hearing it, hiding the love for him that must be shining in them. No matter what might happen between them after this was over, she would always know that she meant something to him.

  “Never,” Alex and Court echoed in unison.

  These men—the Gentry brothers—were her team, her family. They would die protecting her, and she would do the same for them. She was truly blessed to have them at her back.

  “Brenda Jernigan was the one he killed six years ago,” Court said. “Also a prostitute. That’s where you don’t fit, Taylor. All the others were.”

  Alex glanced from her to the plastic angels and then back to her. “I think he’s planning one of two things. Either he’s going for a murder-suicide, or he sees you as his true bride, the one woman deserving of him.”

  “He can go to hell.” Taylor swiped her gloved hand over the angels, dropping them back into the drawer, then slammed it shut.

  As if he regretted voicing what they all thought, Alex gave her an I’m-sorry shrug, then walked out of the room.

  “Where’s Court?” Nate asked, looking around.

  “He’s here with me.”

  The words boomed out over loudspeakers, and Taylor was glad to see she wasn’t the only one who startled. She recognized that gravelly voice, having heard it at the gym when Wayne Tompkins, a.k.a. Wade Tillman, had asked her out.

  “What do you want?” Nate said, his gaze going straight to a landscape on the wall.

  She followed his gaze, and damn them, how had they missed the hole in the middle of a sunflower? Their killer was watching them. She walked over to the portrait. “You want me. Isn’t that right, Wayne? Or do you prefer Wade?” At the pounding of her heart, she reminded herself that she was a tiger. “How do we know you have him?”

  “Your mother knew me as Wayne.”

  He was trying to mess with her head, and it was working. Had her mother sensed the evil in him? Had she feared for her life before he put his hands around her neck? Or had she not seen the danger facing her when he’d followed her home, offering her flowers? Such an innocent thing, a gift of pink tulips, her mother’s favorite flowers. How could she have known she’d die that night?

  She glanced at Nate and saw the fear for his brother in his eyes. “Prove that you have him. Otherwise, I have nothing to say to you.”

  The computer screen on the desk came to life, drawing her to the monitor. The screen was filled with Court tied to a chair, his eyes closed, and his chin slumped on his chest.

  Behind her, Nate growled.

  “Is he dead?” she said, her stomach roiling with fear. Through her headset, she heard Alex tell Rand to come inside, that their man was in the house somewhere.

  “Not yet, but he will be if you don’t follow my directions,” that gravelly voice she hated said.

  He had to be somewhere in the house, but they’d searched all the rooms. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Simple. A trade. Him for you.”

  Nate clenched his fists. If Tompkins put one nick on Court, Nate was going to kill him with his bare hands. And no way was he letting her exchange herself for Court. Even if he did, and Court lived, Court would never forgive him if that man got his hands on Taylor. Putting his back to the camera in the portrait, and hoping there were no others than that one and the one on the monitor, he mouthed, “Fuck no.”

  He knew she saw him, because she was looking right at him, but she only gave him a sad smile before she turned her attention back to the monitor when Tompkins started to speak.

  “There’s a closet at the end of the hall,” Tompkins said. “Go in there and close the door behind you. If anyone tries to come with you, I will kill him.” On the monitor, Tompkins pushed a knife under Court’s throat. “If you come down alone, I’ll let him go with nothing more than the concussion he got when he fell. But first . . .”

  “First what?” Taylor said, when Tompkins paused.

  “First you have to decide who you want to live the most.” He pushed the knife harder against Court’s neck. “Him or the one who tried to take you away from me.”

  “I don’t know who you mean,” Taylor said, even as she glanced at Nate, both of them knowing Tompkins meant him.

  Nate moved next to Taylor. “Am I to assume you mean me? Because I hope to hell you do. I’ll come to you unarmed.” And then he’d kill the bastard.

  Tompkins laughed. “Tempting, Special Agent Gentry, but I’d rather watch her shoot you. That will be more enjoyable than doing it myself.” He reached up, his hand covering the camera lens, then the camera moved. “I have a little more motivation for you, Taylor. Two lives for one. You kill your lover, and these two get to live.”

  He removed his hand, revealing a woman tied and gagged in a chair on the other side of him. He stroked her face. “Isn’t she a lovely thing? Such pretty blonde hair and blue eyes, don’t you think? Not as pretty as your mother, but she’ll do.”

  Beside him, Taylor gasped. “Easy, tiger,” Nate whispered.

  “So what will it be, Taylor? His life . . .” Tompkins’s gaze flicked to Nate. “Or theirs? Take that gun out that I know you have on under your jacket and shoot him. No tricks. I don’t quite trust you, so do it in front of the camera.”

  Alex appeared in the doorway but out of sight of the camera. He held up an empty bottle of ketchup in one hand and a baggie filled with what Nate assumed was ketchup. It could work. He just had to make Taylor understand.

  “I’m waiting, Taylor. You have one minute to decide before I make this pretty girl an angel.” He pointed the knife at a still-unconscious Court. “Then he’ll be next.”

  While Tompkins was talking, Nate whispered to Taylor. “Say you’ll do it.” When she gave a slight shake of her head, he said, “Smoke and mirrors.”

  She darted a glance at him and then toward the doorway. Alex held up the baggie again. Standing behind him, Rand mouthed the word blood.

 
“Thirty seconds,” Tompkins said when she hesitated.

  “Please don’t make me do this,” Taylor said. “I’ll come there. He won’t follow me.”

  “Twenty seconds, and don’t doubt me, Taylor.”

  Nate put his hands on the desk, leaning his face toward the monitor. “She’ll do it, and if she doesn’t, I’ll shoot myself.”

  “And I’ll still kill them both. She has to do it. She belongs to me, always has. Killing you is her punishment for spreading her legs for you.”

  Where the hell was the man? He’d said Court had fallen, so he had to be below them. Florida houses didn’t usually have basements, so it hadn’t occurred to them to look for one. Movement to the right of Tompkins caught Nate’s attention. Court’s arm was moving, and Nate realized he was attempting to loosen the rope tied around his wrist.

  “She’s out of time, Agent Gentry. If she doesn’t shoot you now, these two will die.”

  As much as he wanted to storm down there and rip the man’s head off, he had to stay calm if they were going to save Court and the woman. Nate slipped off his jacket as he backed toward the doorway. With one hand, he pulled on the Velcro securing his vest, while putting his other hand behind him, palm up. When the bag of ketchup landed in his hand, he dropped the vest to the floor.

  “He’s my brother, Taylor,” he said for the benefit of Tompkins. “You know I’d die for him. Do it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Taylor stared into the monitor, right into Tompkins’s eyes. “I’ll always hate you for making me do this.”

  Smoke and mirrors. It had to work. She removed her gun from its holster, lifted it, met Nate’s steady gaze for a moment—seeing nothing but trust in them—then focused on the sliver of space he’d created between his right arm and his side. She pulled the trigger.

  He jerked as he slapped his hand to his chest. Red spread across his chest, splatters of red dotted his neck, and her knees almost gave out when he grunted, crumbling to the floor.

  It’s only ketchup. Just ketchup. With her gun still in her hand, she walked out of the room as Rand rushed in. She glanced back to see him kneeling next to Nate.

  “Christ, he’s dead,” Rand said.

  Even though she knew he wasn’t, hearing him say that about Nate made her want to vomit. In the hallway, she stopped in front of Alex. “Cameras out here?” she whispered.

  “No.”

  “Give me your knife,” she said, knowing the Gentry brothers always had a knife on them. She removed the clip from her gun, emptied it of the bullets, and dropped them in his hand after he gave her his knife.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The first thing he’s going to do is make me give him my weapon. Damn if I’m giving him a loaded one.”

  “He’ll have Court’s.”

  “Yeah, I know, but why give him two loaded guns?”

  “Good point. Nate always said you were the smartest out of all of us.” He gave her a hard hug. “Put that knife right between his eyes, tiger.”

  She laughed at his calling her “tiger.” “That’s the plan.” She put her gun back into its holster, then slipped the knife into the waistband of her pants at her back.

  “There must be another way,” Alex said as she turned away.

  “There isn’t.” She paused at the door to the closet, looking back at Alex. “If it goes south, tell Nate I lov—”

  “No. You’ll tell him yourself when this is over.”

  That was what she loved about the Gentry brothers. Their faith in her. “You’re right. I’ll tell him myself.”

  That they weren’t standing in front of the closet door, blocking her from going in alone, spoke volumes. It meant that they didn’t see her as a woman needing protection, but as a fellow agent, capable of doing her job. Of course, they didn’t like it, but any one of them would be doing the same thing if Tompkins had demanded it.

  She took several deep breaths to calm her nerves, then stepped inside the closet. After finding a light switch and turning it on, she closed the door, but kept her back against it. The floor in front of her dropped down. If she’d been standing on it, she would have fallen in like Court had.

  “You’re smarter than your agent friend here,” Tompkins said when she reached the bottom of the ladder.

  “Not really.” He had Court’s gun pressed against the woman’s head and looked so smug that Taylor was dancing to his tune. It didn’t appear that he’d thought to check Court for other weapons, like the knife and second gun she knew he had hidden in his boots. She glanced at Court to see that he was still unconscious. But wait, had his pinky just twitched? She jerked her gaze back to Tompkins, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Court tap his finger twice against the arm of the chair. Thank God he was all right. She didn’t doubt he was royally pissed that Tompkins had managed to catch him, but who would have expected the floor to fall out from under them?

  “Who’s this?” she asked, looking at the woman.

  “Ah, Taylor, dear, meet sweet Nichole.”

  She moved to the woman in a white dress, kneeling in front of her and meeting eyes brimming with tears of fear. “It’s going to be okay, Nichole.” She prayed she was right. Her stomach churned at seeing the gold wedding band on Nichole’s finger. He planned to kill Nichole no matter what Taylor did.

  Nichole tried to respond, but with the gag, it was a mumble of unintelligible words. In an effort to keep Tompkins’s attention on her and off Court, Taylor stood, surveying her surroundings. She frowned at seeing a large corkboard covered with pictures, and was that . . . After a quick glance at Tompkins, who was avidly watching her, she walked over to the board, and yes, those were strands of human hair.

  “I see you like souvenirs,” she said, grateful her voice was steady. Because she sure didn’t feel calm on the inside. “You’re missing someone.” There were only five strands.

  “Your mother’s.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, thankful her back was to him and he couldn’t see her reaction.

  “I regret not having hers, but I hadn’t planned on making her an angel. Everything was confusing that night.”

  “Yet you thought to take pictures of her.” Sick bastard. There was a photo of her mother after she’d died tacked to the board that she’d caught a glimpse of, but until she reined in her emotions, she kept her eyes on the strands of hair. “Why not pictures of the others?”

  “Oh, they didn’t mean anything to me, not like your mother. I was simply their savior, sending them to a better life. The pieces of hair were all I wanted to remember them by.”

  They didn’t mean anything to him. If she had bullets in her gun, she’d shoot him right now.

  “Take the gun I know you have under your jacket, set it on the floor nice and easy like, and slide it to me,” he said as if reading her mind.

  “I’m trained to never give up my weapon, but I’ll do it if you’ll let her go.” She faced him. “You said you’d let them both go if I came down. Well, here I am.”

  He laughed. “You’re too trusting, Taylor, dearest. Say good-bye to sweet Nichole.”

  When he put his finger on the trigger of Court’s gun, Taylor held up her hands. “Okay, I’m doing it.”

  “Real slow. You try anything and she dies.”

  What could she say to get him to use her weapon instead of Court’s? She eased her gun out of its holster, set it on the floor, and pushed it toward him with her foot. Letting the fear inside her that she wouldn’t be able to save Court and Nichole show on her face, she said, “Please don’t use my gun to hurt anyone. I couldn’t bear it.”

  As she’d hoped, delight at seeing her afraid danced in his eyes, and his mouth curved into a sly smile. She glanced at the camera mounted on a stand to see it was still recording. Did he realize that her fellow agents would be watching? It appeared that he’d forgotten about the camera. She hoped so.

  He pointed Court’s gun at her. “Don’t move unless you’re ready to die.”
/>   While he stretched a leg, put his foot on her weapon, and pulled it to him, she risked looking at Court. He was rubbing his arm back and forth on the chair arm, his muscles straining to loosen the rope. Already, his wrist looked raw from rope burns. What alarmed her, though, was the steady trickle of blood dripping down the back of his neck. He must have hit his head when he fell.

  This had to end before someone was killed. As she’d prayed, her reverse psychology worked. Tompkins tucked Court’s gun under his leg, palming hers.

  “Will you cry if I kill them with your gun, Taylor?”

  “Yes.” But hell if she was going to let that happen. It was now or never. She whipped the knife from her back but had a damn moment of hesitation. She wanted to send the knife right through his black heart, but even though he didn’t know her gun was useless, she did.

  If she killed him, it would probably be deemed a justifiable kill, but in her heart, she would always know it was murder. Her hesitation gave him time to pull the trigger of her gun. When nothing happened, he went for Court’s weapon. Taylor threw the knife, hitting him in his arm where she’d intended. Tompkins screamed, Court’s gun clattering to the floor.

  At the same time, Court tilted his chair, sending Tompkins, along with himself, to the floor. Chaos ensued as three big men climbed down the ladder.

  Nate was the first down, torn between going to his brother or Taylor. Alex pushed past him, heading for Court, so Nate went to Taylor, while Rand moved to the woman trying to scream behind her gag.

  “Damn noisy in here,” Nate said, coming to a stop next to Taylor.

  She let out an adrenaline-filled laugh. “I love it when a plan comes together.”

  “You were amazing, tiger.” He’d watched the monitor with his heart in his throat as she’d had to face a serial killer alone. Alex had practically had to tackle him to keep him from rushing in to save her.

  “Dude, trust your woman to handle this,” Alex had said.

  He did, God knew he did, but seeing her down there by herself with a deranged man had nearly given him a heart attack.