Jack of Hearts (Aces & Eights Book 1)

by Sandra Owens

  Shit. They were in there. He rang the bell again, and finally the door cracked open. Angelina peered out. “I’m sorry, Alex, Madison’s sick and can’t see you today.”

  He held up the flowers. “Then it’s a good thing I brought these to cheer her up.” While he talked, he edged his foot in the opening so she couldn’t close the door on him. “I’ll just give her these and then be on my way.” He pushed passed her, made an eye scan of the foyer, and, not seeing anyone else, turned to Angelina. “Where’s my girl?”

  “In bed, asleep. You need to leave, Alex.”

  There was desperation in her eyes, and he wondered if it was for herself and Madison, or for her brother. Hopefully, the former. “I’ll just put these in water for you. Your kitchen this way?” He headed for the first door he saw.

  It led into a family room, which opened up to the kitchen, where Madison sat at a breakfast table, her hands clasped together so tightly as they rested on the table that her knuckles were white.

  “Hey, babe. Your mom said you’re sick.” He walked straight to her. “I brought you flowers.” He put his mouth to the side of her head as if to kiss her. “Where is he?” he whispered before stepping back. Her eyes shifted to what he guessed was the pantry. “How about I put these flowers in water for you?”

  “I’ll do that,” Angelina said, coming toward him. He wished she had sense enough to run out of the house when given the opportunity, leaving him with only Madison to save.

  The door to the pantry was at Madison’s left side, and Alex made an educated guess that her uncle had a gun pointed right at her head. Delaying until his brothers and SWAT showed up wasn’t going to be possible with Angelina trying to get him out of the house. Alonzo would get suspicious if Alex stuck around, so he needed to act.

  “You should go, Alex,” Madison said. “I don’t want you catching what I have.”

  “I don’t want to get sick either, so as soon as we get these flowers in water, I’ll take off.”

  With her eyes, Madison pleaded with Alex to leave. If he got shot again, she would never forgive herself. How her uncle had escaped, she didn’t know, but he was dressed in a police uniform and had a gun, which he’d said would be pointed at her until they got rid of whoever was at the door.

  Of course, it had been Alex, and of course, he’d barreled his way in, apparently already knowing that Jose was here. Her uncle was watching everything through the slats of the pantry door. She didn’t doubt he would shoot her or Alex if he felt threatened.

  She’d had such a wonderful morning with her mother. They had gone to their favorite restaurant for crepes and coffee, and from there they’d gone to morning mass. Madison knew she didn’t attend church as much as she should, but when she did go, the ritual of the service always comforted her. After church, they’d gone to the cemetery, spending time at her father’s gravesite.

  She loved listening to her mother talk to him, especially today when Angelina had told him that although she loved him and missed him, she was starting to live again. Madison knew her dad would approve.

  Before they’d left the gravesite, she’d told her dad about Alex. Her mother still had doubts about him, considering what little she knew—mainly that he was a co-owner of a biker bar. What would her mother think when she learned the truth about him? The afternoon ahead, and how Alex and her mother would get on, had been on her mind when she and Angelina had come home, walking arm in arm, happier than they’d been in a long time as they talked about the lunch menu they had planned.

  “Hello, ladies,” Jose had said, waving a freaking gun at them when they’d walked into the house. He’d gone to Angelina, pulling her into his arms and kissing her cheek as the gun stayed trained on Madison. Why hadn’t she stayed in bed with Alex this morning?

  Her first thought had been to fish her phone out of her purse so she could text Alex, but her uncle had taken their purses away before she could sneak her phone out. What he’d hoped to happen, she didn’t know. Alex had arrived right after them. Her FBI-trained lover was ignoring the message she was sending with her eyes, begging him to leave. He glanced at her and winked. Winked! As if this were all a game.

  He walked behind her, kicking her chair out from under her, sending her to the floor, and before she could suck in another breath as she watched from under the table, he twisted his body in some martial arts kind of way she’d only seen in the movies, his feet splintering the pantry door. If she’d blinked, she would have missed the speed with which he’d produced a knife from God knew where, sticking the point into the back of her uncle’s neck.

  “You move one inch, you’ll end up a paraplegic,” Alex said to her uncle, and she didn’t doubt he meant it.

  She only hoped Jose got how serious Alex was. And holy sweet Mother Mary, her man was jaw-dropping badass. The sound of booted footsteps filled the air, and she peered at the pairs of legs running into the kitchen.

  “Dammit, Alex, I told you to wait for us.”

  Madison recognized that voice. His brothers were here. Court pulled her up, and the first person she looked for was her mother. Nate had his arms around Angelina, holding her safely against him. The next person she looked for was Alex. He had Jose facedown on the floor, his knee pressing into her uncle’s neck. She stumbled to her mother, and they hugged each other as Nate pushed them out of the room.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, pulling Angelina into the downstairs bathroom and locking the door.

  “My brother was dead to me the minute he pointed a gun to your head.” Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Madison, I was so afraid for you.”

  They hugged again, and Madison inhaled her mother’s familiar gardenia scent, grateful the situation hadn’t turned tragic.

  “If you won’t live with me, then marry me,” Alex said, glaring down at her, his hands fisted on his hips.

  “Now isn’t that the most romantic proposal ever?” They were both on edge after the events of the afternoon. She turned her own glare on his brothers at hearing their dual snorts from where they were propping up the wall. An FBI SWAT team had arrived and carried her uncle away. After the house was cleared out, the Gentry brothers had sworn her mother to secrecy and then had confessed all. Angelina had taken the news of who they were in stride and even seemed charmed by the three men.

  Sitting next to her, Angelina squeezed her hand. “Your father was just as insistent I marry him. It worked out wonderfully.”

  Had she walked onto the set of a romantic comedy? “Get out. All of you.”

  “Not you,” she yelled, standing and grabbing Alex by the back of his shirt.

  He gave her a wicked grin that turned her knees to jelly. “That fiery temper of yours is a real turn-on, Mad.”

  “Don’t be an ass. If you want a yes to your question, do it right.”

  The man she loved with every fiber of her being backed her up, put his hands on the wall behind her, and kissed her hard. About the time she was ready to climb up his body, he leaned away, locking eyes with her.

  “You have to marry me.”

  “Do I?” He’d pretty much kissed her senseless, and it was hard to think.

  “Yes. I’ve decided I won’t shame your mother by living in sin with you. Make an honest man of me, Madison.”

  “So you only want to marry me to make my mother happy?” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “And here I thought when I married it would be for love.”

  “Silly girl.” He pressed against her, letting her feel his arousal. “Even in your sainted mother’s house, where I should be behaving, just being near you does this to me. Marry me for love, baby.”

  “For love then.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And to make an honest man out of you. Don’t forget that part.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  She nodded. “It’s a yes.”

  “I love you, Madison Parker, soon to be Gentry.” And with that, he kissed her long and hard, until she really did forget her name.

  EPILOGUE
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  Kinsey Landon stood at the edge of her mother’s open gravesite as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “I love you, Mom,” she whispered, dropping a bouquet of lilies—Wanda Landon’s favorite flower—into the gaping hole. They landed on the middle of the casket with a soft thud. Two cemetery workers stood off to the side, waiting for her to leave so they could pour dirt on top of her mom, the only family Kinsey had ever known.

  The few people who had attended the ceremony had long since left. Kinsey touched her fingers to her lips and then blew a kiss for the last time. Blowing kisses to each other when one of them was leaving the house had been their ritual for as long as she could remember.

  Unable to bear watching a pile of dirt being dumped on top of her mother, Kinsey walked away. The day was sunny, not a single cloud marring the brilliant blue of the sky. She wished it were raining, that the heavens were weeping for the loss of a beautiful woman. Taking a pair of sunglasses from her purse, she put them on, and then looked up at the sky. Maybe it was a beautiful day because God was happy to have a new angel. The thought pleased her, and she smiled as the tears still flowed.

  Not wanting to go home to an empty house, she tried to think of someplace she could hang out for a while, but she hadn’t been in Jacksonville much the past three years. All her local friends were still at college, so she had no one to call. With a heavy sigh, Kinsey turned her car for home.

  Her friend, Cheryl Ryding, had promised to email Kinsey class notes, which would give her something to do. She’d taken the week off after getting excused absences from her professors, but she wished she could return right then and immerse herself in school. Before she could leave, though, she had to go through her mother’s things, decide what to keep and what to donate, meet with a realtor, and put the house up for sale. She’d thought about keeping it, but it was too empty without her mom there, and it always would be.

  After returning home, she kicked off her shoes, then went to her room and changed into comfortable sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt that she had never returned to her last boyfriend. There wasn’t an email from Cheryl yet, so she made a cup of green mint tea, and as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, she debated curling up on the couch and trying to take a nap versus facing the chore she’d been putting off. It had been easy to ignore the need to go through her mother’s belongings when she had first arrived, what with having to make arrangements for the funeral.

  The call from their next-door neighbor that her mother had suffered a heart attack had come as a shock. Wanda Landon ate healthy; walked several miles a day; gardened; spent an hour a day, every day but Saturday and Sunday, at yoga class; and didn’t smoke or drink more than her one glass of wine a day.

  Kinsey choked down a sob. She’d cried enough for one day. Steeling herself, she headed for her mother’s small office. Setting her teacup on a coaster, she sat at the desk and wondered where to start.

  “I so don’t want to do this.” Speaking out loud made her realize how quiet it was, and she turned on the small TV, tuning it to a music channel. An hour later, she had shredded old bills and other unimportant papers. In front of her was a small stack of documents—including her mom’s will—that she needed to keep. The will wasn’t a surprise. Her mother had made sure that Kinsey was given a copy before she’d left for her freshman year at the University of Miami. A brief scan confirmed it was the same one she had, leaving everything to her except for the garden trolls, which her mom’s neighbor coveted. As far as Kinsey was concerned they were creepy. Lucy was welcome to them.

  In the last drawer, she found a Bible. By the wear and tear, it was old and one Kinsey had never seen. Curious, she flipped through the pages. She was about to put it in the keep pile when she caught a glimpse of writing. Opening it to the middle, she saw that it was a page for marriages. Kinsey frowned as she read the names.

  Wanda Little had married Gordon Gentry thirty-three years ago? Who the hell was Gordon Gentry? And neither Little nor Gentry was her mother’s last name. Kinsey turned the page to see it was a record of births. She stared at the names, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. “Nate Gentry, Court Gentry, Alex Gentry, Kinsey Gentry,” she read aloud.

  “What’s going on here, Mom?” Considering that her world seemed about to be turned on end, she decided it wasn’t too early to pour a drink. The only alcohol her mother kept in the house was wine, and although Kinsey wished there were something stronger, wine would have to do. As she stood and went to close the Bible, an envelope fell onto the desk. She picked it up and saw her name in her mother’s handwriting.

  Instead of pouring a glass, she brought the whole damn bottle back into the office with her. The first glass, she poured to the rim, drank half of it, then opened the envelope and began to read.

  My darling Kinsey,

  If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. Please don’t cry too much, sweetheart. I’ve been blessed to have you in my life, and having you has kept me sane.

  You see, I had three sons who were taken from me, and my heart has cried each day from missing them. Without you in my life, I don’t know how I would have gone on.

  Kinsey dropped the letter, unable to read any further.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Here I am again, writing acknowledgements for a book. Where has the time gone? My ninth published book kicks off a new series, Aces & Eights. I hope you love the Gentry brothers as much as you loved my K2 team.

  Since I started on this journey, I’ve made some amazing friends, many I’ve never met in person, but that doesn’t lessen my love for each and every one of you. I hope you know just how special you are to me. So, my heartfelt thank-you for reading my books, for telling your friends about them, and for being impatient for the next book to come out. I love that you are, and I’m writing as fast as I can.

  To everyone who has taken the time to write a review for one of my books, thank you, thank you, thank you! That means the world to me.

  My family rocks! They love me and I love them. It’s the way families should be, and I’m truly blessed to have them in my life. Of course, they’re blessed to have me, so it all evens out.

  To my critique partners Jenny Holiday and Miranda Liasson, thank you for helping me make my stories better. I’d be lost without you. It is such an honor to be critique partners with two such amazingly talented authors. I love you both!

  In 2013, the first K2 Team book, Crazy for Her, was a finalist in a Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® contest. One of the judges was an editor from Montlake Romance, and she requested the full manuscript. Not long after, I received an offer from Montlake Romance. I signed a contract with them, and it was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. So, thank you Montlake Romance for taking a chance on a relatively unknown author. I’ve loved every minute of being a Montlake Romance author. Maria, Jessica, Melody, and everyone else, love you all.

  If you’ve read the acknowledgements in my previous books, then you know that I always save my agent for last. Courtney Miller-Callihan of Handspun Literary is my agent extraordinaire, and I’m so lucky to have her on my side. Love you, Courtney. xoxoxo

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2015 Cat Ford-Coates

  A bestselling, award-winning author, Sandra Owens lives in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Her family and friends often question her sanity, but have ceased being surprised by what she might be up to next. She’s jumped out of a plane, flown in an aerobatic plane while the pilot performed death-defying stunts, flown Air Combat (two fighter planes dogfighting, pretending to shoot at each other with laser guns), and ridden a Harley motorcycle for years. She regrets nothing.

  Sandra is a 2013 Golden Heart® finalist for the contemporary romance Crazy for Her. In addition to her contemporary romantic suspense novels, she writes Regency stories.

  You can connect with Sandra on Facebook at Sandra Owens Author and Twitter @SandyOwens1. Her website is www.sandra-owens.com. For the latest news from Sandra, sign
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