King of Hearts (Deuces Wild Book 1)

by Irish Winters

  “Twenty-one girls...” he hissed over the speakerphone.

  Tucker ignored the blatant hostility aimed at him. The odd trick was that as ornery as Stewart could be, he commanded agents so loyal to him they’d die for the guy. He was the kind of leader who could literally lead his men into hell and they’d follow. Of course, he brought them home alive, too.

  “You would’ve done the same, Boss,” Isaiah piped up.

  “Don’t tell me what I would’ve done, Junior Agent.” But Stewart took a breath, and Isaiah winked at Tucker. The conversation settled into a normal status report of precise details, who went where, and which guys were doing what.

  “You haven’t heard from Mark yet?” Tucker asked, his gut churning. “Not even after he left with Melissa?”

  “Time out,” Isaiah interrupted. “He and Melissa are already near Zach and Rory’s location on the delta. They’re both safe. I’ve been keeping track of everyone.”

  Tucker glared at his partner. “That would’ve been good to know before now.”

  “You can do that?” It was hard not to miss the incredulity in Stewart’s voice.

  “Sure, Alex. I’ve been tuned into Melissa since she was abducted. The link with her isn’t as clear as I’d like, but I’ve always had a link with Ky Winchester.”

  That admission surprised Tucker. Isaiah, the mind reader, winked at him. “Ky doesn’t believe he has psychic talent, Boss, but he does.” “Just like you, Tucker.” “He and the guys have already infiltrated Siegel’s camp while Siegel’s preoccupied fighting off the Vietnamese Army with what’s left of his men.”

  “Wait.” Tucker scowled. “Siegel’s still alive?”

  “Yes—at least that’s what Ky believes. There’s enough confusion in camp that Ky and the guys think they can sneak in and remove the girls before they’re noticed. I’ll continue to monitor the situation as it evolves.”

  An audible sigh of relief came over the line. “Keep me informed.”

  “Sure thing, Boss.” There it was again, sublime obedience to Stewart from a guy who was supposed to be working for the FBI. How the hell did Stewart do it?

  “Anything else?”

  “We’ve got a bead on Deuce,” Tucker offered, not sure Stewart cared about his kid any more.

  “About that...” Stewart paused long enough to make Tucker nervous. “There’s been a recent push by the authorities in Hồ Chí Minh City to locate and eliminate child slavery in the garment factories. The deplorable state of some of those places has gotten worldwide attention, and the UN is threatening sanctions if Vietnam doesn’t clean up its act. Be careful. You may run into a police presence.”

  That was good to know. “Thanks for the heads-up,” Tucker said sincerely.

  “I assume you’ll take Deuce out of the country with Mark’s team?”

  “That’s the plan,” Tucker replied, “unless you’ve got a better idea.”

  “I do if things go bad and you miss the connection.”

  “I don’t miss connections unless all hell breaks loose, but go ahead. Whatcha got?”

  The sound of fluttering drifted over the line. Possibly an old-fashioned Rolodex? Interesting. “Call this number. Ask for Smoke. He’ll shelter you until you can get clear.” Stewart rattled off a phone number.

  “You’re shittin’ me. Smoke Montoya?” Tucker had to ask. It had been years since the guy had been last seen, so how the hell did Stewart know his phone number when the rest of the world wondered whether he was alive or dead? And to top it off, Stewart was nothing but a dumb jarhead. Why was he cozied up to a Navy SEAL hero?

  “He owes me. Leave it at that,” Stewart groused.

  Could things get more bizarre? A Navy legend owed a Marine? Tucker scrubbed a rough hand over his face. The world was a pretty messed-up place when a Marine knew where a hero SEAL lived while no one else did.

  “Are we done here?” Stewart asked, his tone edgy and impatient as usual.

  “I asked her to marry me,” Tucker announced. He might as well get that out in the open.

  “Good. It took you long enough.”

  Oddly, that grumpy retort set Tucker’s mind at ease. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Copy that.” The line went dead.

  “You should’ve kept me better informed,” Tucker growled at his cocky partner.

  “You never asked.”

  “I’m agent-in-charge. I don’t have to ask.”

  “True, but until tonight there wasn’t much to tell. Ky and the guys just got to Siegel’s camp. Mark and Melissa just arrived at the hovercraft.”

  “And?” Tucker glowered, not buying this line of bullshit. The timing was off. Mark’s guys should’ve gotten into Siegel’s camp long ago and been gone by now.

  “You’re right, the timing is off,” Isaiah readily agreed, “but the Vietnamese Army has Siegel’s camp surrounded. Ky and the guys had to go through enemy lines. It took time.”

  “And now?”

  “And now...” Isaiah paused, one finger to his temple. “Melissa is safely aboard. Mark, too. Ky and the guys are advancing on the huts. The village is deserted except for a few of Siegel’s people. Ky’s afraid the girls are either dead or restrained, or they wouldn’t have been left behind.”

  “Out loud, Zaroyin. Is he sure the girls are there?”

  Isaiah nodded. “Yes. He and the guys have been watching the huts. They saw several women leave, but no girls. Why do you refuse to admit your talent? Don’t you realize that your psychic ability might explain why you’re good at everything you put your hand to?”

  Tucker gave Isaiah the evil eye. “Out. Loud.”

  The kid had the nerve to lift his chin in defiance. It was mild defiance, but a challenge nonetheless. “Where we’re going tomorrow morning, there will be no chance for verbal communication. Garment factories in these countries are noisy, dirty, and dangerous. Trust me. You’ll need to use your talent if you expect to save Deuce. Say it with me. I am psychic.”

  Tucker sneered. “Say it with me, Zaroyin. You’re a dead man if you don’t start following orders.”

  “You’re a dead man if you don’t start listening. Why are you so stubborn? This ability is a rare gift from the universe. Don’t throw it away. Use it. Make the world a better place.” His eyes glazed over. “Tucker! They’re under attack.”

  It took more time getting through the Vietnamese Army patrols than expected. By afternoon of the second day, Melissa was exhausted, but glad to see Zack Lennox and Rory Dennison, two of Alex’s best agents. She knew their wives and had been to their homes. They were a sight for her sad, tired eyes. The camouflaged hovercraft, too. Sitting low in the water and reeds along the riverbank, it sported two large upright fans at the rear of a long sleek cabin, and hopefully a hot water heater for a nice, warm shower.

  “Melissa,” Zack all but purred as he hoisted her out of the raft and aboard the hovercraft. Tall, muscular, and his head shaved close, his biceps barely rippled when he lifted her off her feet. “It’s good to see you again. You’re as pretty as ever.”

  She doubted that, but the man was a kind liar. “Thanks, Zack, but I know better.” She tucked her dirty hair behind her ears, anxious for information. “Any word yet?”

  “Nothing from Agent Chase, but our guys are entering the first hut now,” Rory called out from what looked like the communication center in the open cabin, a set of earphones strapped over his head, his dark blue eyes somber and attentive. He’d married Ember, one of Alex’s genius technical assistants, and they’d been happy ever since.

  Melissa hurried to his side, along with Zack and Mark.

  “Gunfire to the south of their location,” Rory reported. “They’ve found five girls in the first hut, all chained by their ankles to the center post. All scared to death.”

  She took a seat alongside Rory, her heart climbing up her throat. “Can they break the chains?”

  “They can pick those locks,” Mark said matter-of-factly. He’d settled one knee to the f
loor at her side, listening to Rory. “Don’t worry. They’re prepared for all scenarios. They’ll bring them out safely.”

  Or die trying, she thought. These men didn’t know the meaning of quit. They thrived on the adrenaline rush of saving others. They were just like Tucker.

  “Taylor’s taking the first group out. He’ll wait at a predetermined location. Second hut. Six girls. Same sorry condition as the last.” Rory blew out a low hiss. “Ky’s pissed. He’s pretty certain one of them’s been abused. She’s going to need you, Melissa. Gabe’s taking this group out.”

  “Are they resisting?” Mark asked.

  “It doesn’t sound like it. Ky’s getting through to them,” Rory breathed. “You know how he is with kids.”

  Ky had an uncanny knack with teenagers. On his off time, he worked with Kelsey Stewart at her home for wayward street kids in D.C. He was one of those rare guys who wasn’t afraid to mix it up with some of the most misunderstood people in America—teenagers.

  “Tell him there’s food in the only hut with a wooden door,” she told Rory. “It’s to the west if they can get to them. They’ll need to feed the girls if they can’t make it back tonight.”

  Rory passed the word, then nodded at Melissa. “Ky says good to know. Is there water, too?”

  “And bug spray.”

  Huts three and four revealed the same—frightened little girls, none older than twelve, Ky guessed.

  “Stop frowning so hard,” Zack teased. He’d taken the bench seat behind Rory, his big hands on his knees. “Agent Chase won’t recognize you the next time he sees you. You’re giving yourself wrinkles.”

  “This is so intense,” she murmured, her fingers knitted tightly on her lap.

  “But it’s going smooth. These guys are good at what they do. Take a deep breath, Melissa. They’ll be back here before you know it.”

  She tried to smile, but it was difficult with her heart stuck up high in her chest like it was. It felt as if she’d swallowed a rock.

  “Maverick just hooked up with Gabe and Taylor. They’ve got all the girls,” Rory said calmly. “One altercation. Some woman caught Ky in the act. He says to tell you he feels bad he had to smack her, but he doesn’t feel too bad.”

  Melissa clamped her hand to her mouth. That might have been Kimmie. Things had happened so quickly, she hadn’t thought to ask her about Tristan. He’d seemed a genuinely nice young man. Where was he now? With Simon? Or with that Jackman fellow?

  Mark’s warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Take it easy, Melissa. They’re almost clear of the camp. We’ll see them in a day or two if the girls cooperate with this exfil.”

  “Ky’s still at the edge of the huts,” Rory reported. “Rapid gunfire to the south. He’s spotted two more kids. He can’t leave them.” Rory stilled, listening, no expression on his face while Melissa’s heart pounded. Could it be Mimi and Peewee?

  Rory cocked his head. “Maverick’s taking the rest of the girls to safety, but Ky’s going back in, Mark. He’s got to.”

  “Understood,” Mark replied evenly.

  The cabin stilled. All of these men were fathers. They didn’t have it in them to leave a child behind, but the tension turned palpable. Melissa ran her tongue over her dry top lip. Four men. Twenty-one traumatized girls. Now two more tiny children. How could a rescue of this proportion go smoothly?

  “I should’ve stayed there,” she murmured.

  “Maverick just rejoined Ky,” Rory said. “It’s hard to hear Ky’s transmission. All hell’s breaking loose.”

  Melissa couldn’t hold still. “No, no, no,” she prayed, her hands to her temples. “Hurry, Ky. Save the kids. Get out of there.”

  “Rocket fire, Mark,” Rory reported. “They’ve got incoming.”

  “Do they have the kids yet?” Melissa barked, her angst uncontrollable.

  “Not yet,” he replied evenly, not a hint of panic in his tone. “The two little ones ran for cover. They’re scared. They’re hiding from our guys.”

  “They’ll be killed.”

  Mark’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “Ky will get them, you’ll see.”

  “Maverick just caught the little girl,” Rory reported. “She’s screaming but he’s got her.”

  “Mimi,” Melissa declared. “Tell him to call her Mimi. If it’s her, using her name might settle her down.”

  Rory passed on the scant intel, his hand cupping his headset. Melissa clutched her forehead, willing Peewee to come to Ky. Oh please, go to Ky, little guy. He’ll keep you safe.

  “Maverick’s retreating with the girl. She’s quieted down, but Ky’s going in after the boy.”

  Melissa leaned over Rory’s shoulder. “Peewee. His name is Peewee. Where is he? In the main camp?”

  Rory nodded, but he didn’t speak.

  “The farther he goes into camp, the more adults he’ll run into. There are injured men there and they’re all armed.” Rory nodded again, still silent until Melissa couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s he doing? Does he have Peewee yet? Say something.”

  Rory turned to Melissa, a sheen of tears in his eyes, his gaze transfixed. Melissa’s heart stopped at the tender compassion she read on his face. As calm and collected as this man had appeared, he was worried now. Panic rained down around her. No. Not Peewee. Not Ky.

  At last Rory hissed and shook his head. “No, but that was damned close. Sorry. The little guy’s crying. He’s got a bloody bump on his head, but Ky’s got him. Don’t worry. He’s bringing him in.”

  “Oh, thank God!” She collapsed on the bench opposite Zack, her heart wrung out and her forehead in her hands. Rory looked a little worse for wear, too. He had a son he adored, Tyler. He had to have related personally with that frightened little Peewee. She could only imagine what those children were going through. “How do you guys do this? They all could’ve been killed.”

  “But they weren’t,” Mark said calmly. “Take it easy, Melissa. We’ve done this before.”

  “But... but...” She had no words. This was the kind of thing Tucker did every day. Save someone’s life. Put himself in danger. Protect the innocent. Take ungodly chances that could get him killed, and she’d barely touched the tip of the iceberg. “Are you all crazy?” she had to ask, embarrassed with at the way she’d taken over and ordered Rory around. She’d turned into a maniac while these guys had handled themselves like pros during the extraction. “Why do you do this?”

  Zack lifted his shoulders and grunted. “Someone has to.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Tucker couldn’t sit still. “Who’s attacking them?”

  Isaiah held a palm up for silence, his gaze vacant. “Shhhhh. I’m reading Ky Winchester. There’s… turmoil in the camp.”

  “For God’s sake—!”

  Isaiah blinked, shook his head, and fixed a stern stare at Tucker. “You need to be quiet. I’m working here. I can do a lot of things, but I can’t be in two places at once.”

  Tucker stifled a comeback. He’d thought Isaiah meant Mark and Melissa were under attack, but this was about those little girls. He swallowed hard and kept his mouth shut, every nerve stretched to the breaking point. His fists clenched ready to fight. God help Siegel if he’d hurt those kids.

  Isaiah closed his eyes, his face etched with worry. “I’m having trouble reading Ky. He’s under serious stress, but…”

  But what? Every nerve in Tucker’s body reached out to Melissa, needing her to be strong no matter which way this rescue attempt went. He couldn’t be with her, but she needed to understand. Sometimes, even the best men failed. They came back with empty arms or worse—body bags.

  The longer Isaiah didn’t speak, the harder it was for Tucker to think positive. He should’ve stayed to assist Stewart’s men. He never should have listened to Mark Houston and left Melissa. Damn it, Zaroyin. Talk to me.

  At last, Isaiah swayed, then dropped to the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, and his chest heaving. “Ky and the guys have the girls, them and a few others
. They’re on their way to the delta.”

  The air whooshed out of Tucker’s lungs. He dropped to a knee at Isaiah’s side. “You’re right. I need to read minds like you do. Teach me. Now.”

  Isaiah shook his head before he flopped back onto the mattress, his arms spread wide. “Later,” he whispered. “I’m beat. It takes energy to maintain a psychic link, and this one was tough.”

  It must’ve been tough. The kid’s shirt was drenched with sweat and he looked pale. Tucker leaned over him, peering closer. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  Isaiah had his eyes closed. “Sleep. I just need sleep.”

  The day was well gone by the time Ky and the Fearsome Threesome returned to the hovercraft. They’d not only rescued Mimi, Peewee, and the girls, but they’d also brought Dang and Tam with them. Melissa wept for joy at the sight of all those sweet, sad faces, as well as the sacrifice of those brave professionals. By then, the army patrols seemed to have moved on. Zack was able to run into the nearest village to purchase additional food and what clothing he could find for the girls.

  Once his men and their charges were safely aboard, Mark and his men turned into medics and cooks, taking care of the needs of the many. Zack had crazy skills in the kitchen. He dug in and whipped up a meal of sticky rice, spring rolls, and a platter of Thit Bo Xao Dau, a beef and green bean dish.

  The sweet girl who’d been assaulted clung to the others, avoiding eye contact and attempts to comfort her. Melissa wanted to mother them all, but they needed each other more than a strange American woman, so she backed off and accepted them on their terms.

  In America, this would’ve been a crucial time to collect evidence. There’d be specific emergency room protocol, a rape kit, and a detailed medical examination, but in third-world countries rife with child sex trafficking, the chance of prosecuting the child’s attacker was next to nil. Children weren’t protected from such crimes.

  The TEAM’s beleaguered passengers had so many needs, but that was exactly why Melissa had come to Vietnam. To help and to serve. In all the commotion, Tucker had contacted Mark to let him know they’d made it into the city. Missing his phone call hurt, but she had plenty of work to keep her busy.