King of Hearts (Deuces Wild Book 1)

by Irish Winters

  She straightened on Tucker’s lap. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you really psychic? Can you see them?”

  “No, I can’t actually see Mimi and Peewee in my mind, but I can get a sense of them. We’re close enough to the camp, but I’m not detecting the negative energy an injured child would project into the universe.” He smoothed the dirt in front of him with a wide sweep of his palm. “I’m what’s known in psychic circles as a precognitor, Melissa. I can read some people’s thoughts, but only if I’m in close proximity or if there’s a link already established. I find it curious that I can’t read your mind. All I get from you are impressions. It’s as if you’re blocking me somehow. Have you ever been tested for psychic talent?”

  “She’s not psychic,” Tucker declared firmly. “She’s normal, like me.”

  Isaiah rolled his eyes emphatically. “Tucker, in the entire world of normal people, you’re the furthest—”

  “Shut it, Zaroyin. I can make you disappear.”

  Again with the eye roll. “So now you’re a magician?”

  “I wasn’t planning on using a wand, smart guy.”

  “But you’re sure Mimi and Peewee are okay?” Melissa pressed, ignoring their jabs.

  “Yes. Children’s energy is different from adults. It’s more...” Isaiah paused for a heartbeat, “... pure. It’s clearer.”

  That seemed to do the trick, at least for Melissa. She relaxed into Tucker’s arms again. “As long as they’re okay.”

  Isaiah shot Tucker a darker thought. “But there are other children in that camp, Tucker. Girls. All under twelve, and they’re not releasing good energy. They’re scared to death, and they’ve been hurt. They want to go home to their mothers.”

  “What do you mean other girls? Sex trade, maybe?” Tucker asked, but out loud, “What about my boy?”

  “I can’t hear Devlin at this distance.”

  “Damn it, Zaroyin. For the last time, his name is Deuce!” Tucker snapped, shielding his angst for the children caught in Siegel-Rat-Bastard’s trap. If it were anyone else, he would’ve gone ahead with his plan to save Melissa and Deuce, but a guy just doesn’t leave defenseless kids behind. Maybe this part of the mission wasn’t over yet. Maybe there was a way to go back.

  “You’re right,” Isaiah conceded, “and I’m sorry I used the wrong name. I know better.”

  “You think? I’ve told you often enough.” Tucker growled for effect, not so mad at Isaiah as Siegel. But those little girls...

  “You’re all right, you know that, Tucker?” Isaiah murmured on their private channel.

  “What does Deuce have to do with anything?” Melissa asked, weariness in her tone and oblivious of the covert conversation going on in her midst.

  She already knew Tucker had lost custody, that it ate him alive. She’d even met his ex and said she understood his dilemma after that one hostile encounter with Nicole, but honestly? No one knew what a sucking hole in their heart felt like until they’d lost their only kid. She might have lost her husband, but losing a kid was different. It just was. Brady McCormack went down fighting, but Deuce never stood a chance, not against his shrew of a mother. “That’s why I came to Vietnam, babe. Deuce is here. I was after joint custody, but knowing what I know now, I’m taking him home.”

  Melissa tilted her chin up to Tucker’s face. “What aren’t you tell me, Tuck?”

  God, can she read my mind, too?

  “Deuce—” Isaiah directed that at Tucker, saving the day with his timely interruption, “—is being forced to work in Vinnie’s garment factory. Vinnie is Nicole’s new husband, and he’s using Tucker’s son to keep the other children in his factory in line. He’s been pretty rough on Deuce. We need to get him out of there and soon.”

  Anger hissed out of Tucker. “You never told me Vinnie’s hurting my kid.”

  That woke Melissa up. She moved out of his arms to face him. With a toss of her head, the rest of her braid unraveled, spilling coiled tangles of firelight over her shoulders. “How dare he? What are we doing here, Tuck? Let’s go get Deuce.”

  So that’s what a real mother looks like. Melissa was breathtaking. Tucker could’ve kissed her for her righteous indignation over a boy she’d never met. The sight stirred him to his soul. It was one thing to date a woman within the confines of refined society where gentlemen held doors for ladies, and ladies responded with flirtation and gentle conversation, but to see her in the wild jungle with fire in her eyes, her dander up, and her face smudged and flushed. To hear her proclaim her intentions for his boy...

  Something dark and feral and primitive within him lifted its head and took notice. His nostrils flared. Like an apex predator to its mate, his hunger for her dialed into the generous curves of her warm body. The glimmer of flames washing over her blonde hair like a fiery halo. The mother bear called Melissa.

  Red-hot embers sprang to life in his gut. And lower. Every nerve lit with need and hunger. The male in him was all at once hyper-aware and ready to capitalize on the insatiable chemistry between them. To claim her, mark her, and make her his.

  “Tomorrow,” he promised, his voice filled with pure intent.

  “The problem will be to get Deuce out of the country once we’ve got him,” Isaiah added. “We’re not sure how powerful Vinnie is yet or who he knows. He could have some influential connections. We might ignite an international incident if we’re not careful.”

  “Humph,” she declared staunchly, her jaw set in that stubborn mode Tucker knew so well. “I know a couple of influential people, too. Alex will help, just ask him.”

  “No, he won’t,” Tucker explained. “He already told me he wouldn’t handle a non-custodial parent kidnapping. We’re on our own.”

  “Bet me. I know Alex. He’s a hellcat when it comes to children. He’ll help,” she declared vehemently, tossing those tangled curls. “Does he know Deuce is being used for child labor? That he’s a slave? Have you told him?”

  “I haven’t had time.” Tucker flicked a red-striped beetle off his thigh. “I’ve been kind of busy rescuing a damsel in distress.”

  That should’ve carried more weight than it did. All it did was make Melissa angry. “Are you serious? Are you telling me…?” She pinned him with her meanest gaze. “Tell me you didn’t. Tucker. Did you trade saving your son for chasing after me?”

  “I made a choice.” Tucker felt that familiar angst creep up his spine, the one that told him everything was slipping through his fingers. “I chose to rescue you because—”

  “Because I couldn’t get a good read on you, ma’am,” Isaiah interrupted. “If anyone’s to blame for saving you before Deuce, it’s me. I sensed that you were in a box, Mrs. McCormack, and that you were covered with blood. You seemed dazed, and then you were focused on a bloody leg. How could we not come after you when we thought your situation was more critical? Deuce was just unhappy, but you were in more desperate straits.”

  She swallowed hard, her throat muscles working. “Oh. I see. Umm, yeah. I wasn’t bleeding, though. It wasn’t me. They put me in a wooden box at first, but then they let me out and started to build me a real clinic. I thought I was helping refugees, not drug runners. Not that I wouldn’t have helped just because they were drug runners. Those poor people—”

  “Were probably in a drug war with either the Vietnamese or the Cambodian Army, which is how they were injured in the first place. Hell, they might have been fighting amongst themselves, for all we know.” Tucker tugged her wrist gently, and she mellowed and let him hold her. “What’s with the bloody leg Isaiah saw, though? You’re not hurt.”

  She gulped like she was swallowing a frog. “It wasn’t my leg. Dang. His leg, it had to be amputated and I...” Big noisy gulp. “It was awful. I helped with the amputation.” She wiggled as a shiver shook her entire body. “I almost threw up in the middle of it.”

  Tucker smoothed his palms down her back, ending at her waist instead of gripping her ass like he would’ve if he’d thought he could get away
with it. “You didn’t say you had a doctor with you. Who did the surgery?”

  “Simon,” she said so softly Tucker had to strain to hear. “None of that matters. We have to save your son, Tucker. We have to save Deuce. Tomorrow. First thing. Before the sun comes up.”

  There was that crusader again, the Joan of Arc within Melissa, wanting to right the world when they weren’t even back in the city yet. She felt it too, the compulsion to save others. His fingers wandered lower. “Come with me,” he whispered.

  She knew what he wanted, but he didn’t dare say it out loud. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched high in her throat, reading his signals like he was reading hers. He needed to finally be inside of her, locked together once and for all. He needed a home for once in his sorry life, and damn it, it was that light in her eyes and the banked heat in her body.

  “Keep the fire going,” Tucker ordered as he pushed off the ground and dusted his rear pockets. “We’ll be right back.”

  Isaiah didn’t look up, just nodded, his gaze fastened to the flames. “Take your time.”

  “And stay the hell out of my head,” Tucker warned, his index finger in Isaiah’s face.

  The kid shrugged. “I’m not stupid.”

  Tucker snagged two of the plastic ponchos and all but dragged Melissa through the vines and brush, back toward the creek where he’d found dozens of those carp-like fish lounging in the shallows. That was the only reason he’d caught one so easily. He’d been lucky. He needed to be that lucky again and actually reel this woman in.

  He settled the ponchos to the ground, keeping to the shadows along the eastern creek bank, the moon in the west at his back. The jungle was alive tonight with croaking frogs and insects. With life.

  “Sit,” he ordered brusquely, his blood on fire and his heart climbing up his throat. He needed to know. Did she mean yes? Was any of this real?

  “No,” she replied evenly, and there it was, defiance and femininity all rolled into one. “Not unless you sit with me.”

  Damn it, do as you’re told. He shot her a nervous look, his fingers curled in his hair again and his heart on the line. “We need to talk.”

  She unbuttoned her top button, the one he’d been staring at half the night. “You’re right. We do need to talk, but first...” She unbuttoned the second and the third until moonlight glimmered over the creamy flesh of her upper breasts.

  What did I want to ask?

  The shirt slipped off her shoulders to the ground, her breathing as heavy as his. The sight of her full breasts and flat stomach curled his toes. The flair of her full hips, too. She unsnapped her jeans, each snap a sizzle on a hot plate, and, sensually and slowly, she revealed high-cut bikini panties. He couldn’t make his eyeballs move off of her when all his dreams came true—when she stepped out of her sneakers and jeans and toed the bunched clothing to the edge of the plastic poncho turned tablecloth. He’d intended it as a blanket, but now...

  He licked his lips at the long-legged feast bathed in moonlight, her hands sweetly clasped together as if in prayer, her dark eyes sparkling in the night. He needed a queen-sized bed.

  “Tucker,” she said, her lips offering an air kiss he meant to catch. “Come here. Now. Please.”

  She reeled him in. This woman had him by the balls, and he knew it. His breath hitched up his throat. He moved as fast as that moonbeam to her side, his hand instantly cupping second base, thumbing one peaked nipple through the silky fabric of her bra, his other hand curled possessively at the nape of her neck.

  “Melissa,” he breathed, his body one giant, throbbing hunger for her. All of her. “Why?” he asked, his brain searching for the other half of that important question he could no longer remember.

  “Because I love you, Tucker Chase, and I want you. Tonight and always.” Her voice quavered with need. “Especially now, Tuck. Right now.”

  “And I want you,” he admitted. “But why now? Why me? God, are you sure about any of this?” Because you’re scaring the hell out of me with this quick change in direction. What’s really going on? How can you possibly love me?

  “No,” she admitted huskily. “I’m not sure of anything. I thought I was. I thought if I controlled everything around me, I’d never have to lose anyone again, but...”

  That cooled his jets. Enlightenment struck him like a line drive to second base. That was why he’d gotten the continual push and shove from this woman, the come-hither come-on always followed by the quick reverse gears and the leave-me-the-hell-alone routine. Tucker stilled, his throat gone dry but his eyes most assuredly opened. He should’ve known.

  Life had dealt Melissa one helluva knockout punch when it took her husband the way it did. All this time, she’d been fighting to catch her balance. That was why she hadn’t let Tucker get too close. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him. It was her need to make sure he was safe and accounted for before she gave her heart away again. Poor Melissa had been trying to control everyone and everything in her life so what happened to Brady wouldn’t happen again.

  It’s called hypervigilance, you dumbass, he scolded himself. Most soldiers, Marines, airmen, and sailors came home with it in one form or another if they’d been in combat. Why couldn’t their wives catch it? They sure as hell suffered along with their men.

  Tucker didn’t want to hear a single word about What’s-His-Name, not now. He didn’t want another man in this sacred place, but the damned ghost had to go. The words had to be said.

  “Brady’s not coming back, baby,” he told her gently, like she didn’t already know.

  A sad whimper lifted up her throat. “I... I know but…”

  Smart move, Chase. You killed the mood.

  Those luscious breasts heaved. She swallowed hard, chewing her lip. “Brady’s dead. I really do know that. He’s... he’s really gone, but I tried, Tuck. I tried so-o-o hard to make him live, but he left me anyway, and you... and you...” She burrowed into him, her ear to his chest and his nose in her hair. “You deserve someone better than a crazy woman like me.”

  He fell for her all over again. There was no way in hell he deserved better than her because there was no one better—or kinder—or more gracious. He was the sinner, not this woman who’d come halfway around the world to help refugees. He wrapped her up in his arms and laid her down on their skimpy bed by the creek.

  She collapsed into him, quaking with grief. “He died, Tuck. And I’m glad he’s not suffering anymore, but...” A hiccup wrenched out of her. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear about Brady, but I miss him every single day.”

  He couldn’t speak, could only enfold Melissa against his heart while she shattered in his arms and wept for her dead husband—the first boy she’d fallen in love with. It wasn’t the wailing of so many other women worldwide, though. It was more the sobbing acceptance of a woman who’d been strong for too long, who was finally letting her guard down. Finally coming to grips and letting love seep back in to her valiant heart.

  Awareness trickled into his hard head. Maybe that was all she’d needed this past year, him to help shoulder the load, to act like a wingman and carry her when things got too hard for her, instead of always trying to impress her to get her attention. Instead of acting like an insecure ass. He’d wasted a lot of time feeling threatened by a dead man.

  Tucker gulped at his flaming arrogance. Yeah, he’d gotten sick and tired of Brady this and Brady that, but all this woman had wanted was someone in her corner who understood the fire she’d walked through. Someone just as strong and brave and...

  I am such a moron.

  So what if Brady’s ghost hung around? He was entitled to watch over the woman he’d loved when he was alive. Correction. Whom he still loved. Brady McCormack was one of the good guys. He had to have been, if Melissa loved him. Two hard-assed warriors watching over her for the rest of her life couldn’t be so bad.

  “Don’t be sorry,” Tucker murmured softly against her ear, striving to be that better man she needed and not just a
n arrogant tough guy who thought he knew it all. “Never be sorry for honoring your husband, Melissa. Of course you miss him. You should. Who wouldn’t miss their first love? Brady McCormack was a hero through and through. You tell the world about him. Tell me. I’ll listen. We’ll never forget him together.” He blinked away the moisture blurring the vision in his one good eye. Damn it, he was starting to like Brady McCormack. Who would’ve thought?

  “I’ve been so foolish. So scared to live.”

  “You’ve got a funny way of being scared to live, baby. Look at you. You came to a foreign country to help others. That doesn’t say scared to me.”

  She blinked hard, struggling for composure.

  He tried again. “It’s life, Melissa. Just life. You can’t control it. None of us can. Bad things are still going to happen. Life’s a risk and a rush and a downer, all in the same day—hell, sometimes in the same five minutes. It’s a ten-second ride on some bull named Daisy, and it’s a sweet baby boy named Deuce. It’s a flag flying half-mast at Arlington and the same one waving high and proud at Quantico. You’ve got to grab life by the horns and not miss a single second of it. Keep moving forward, even when it knocks you down and stomps on you. Get up again. Don’t be afraid to live because of what happened in the past. Trust me to love you for the rest of your life. Come live it with me.”

  She wept until her voice turned ragged and soft, and he kissed every tear off her cheeks and every whimper off her lips, so grateful for the tremendous heart of his woman.

  A glitter of fireflies had lifted up from the reeds and hovered over the shallow end of the creek, the reflections in the water creating a magical space and time where dreams might really come true.

  “You rode a bull named Daisy?” she asked, her voice small and tired.

  Aw, shit. Of everything he’d said, she had to catch that.

  He sighed, mostly at his big mouth for revealing yet another moment of supreme stupidity. “Yeah. Two-day leave. A couple of us guys took in the sights at the Dallas stockyards. One of us thought we were tougher than Daisy.”