King of Hearts (Deuces Wild Book 1)

by Irish Winters

  Deuce wrapped his arms around Tucker’s waist and laid his head on his back. “I love you, Dad,” were the only words he had to utter to break Tucker. Grief shuddered from his kid’s true blue heart through Tucker’s body, resonating to his tough guy core. He clutched Deuce’s clasped hands fiercely over his gut in a grip he swore he’d never take for granted again.

  When Melissa sobbed behind him—

  Oh, what the hell. If Deuce was man enough...

  Tucker turned into his son, his eyes squeezed tight as he pressed his kid to his chest and cried with him. “I love you, son. You’re a good boy,” he muttered, swallowing hard before he fell completely apart. He was that close.

  Melissa snaked a hand under Tucker’s suit jacket and around his waist, her fingers sliding below his belt. “And I love the two of you.”

  He pulled her into the Chase family circle where she belonged. Deuce sealed the deal when he snuggled in tight against his old man’s bigger, wider body and whispered, “I’m gonna be just like you, Dad.”

  Tucker squeezed his eyes tight to squelch more tears, but it was Melissa who surprised him when she said, “You already are, son.”

  God, he loved this woman.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Damned if some guy in pitch-black sunglasses, a dirty ball cap, and a worn leather jacket didn’t show up at Tân Sơn Nhất International Airport to see Tucker and his new family off. Black-haired and deeply tanned with a thick, dark scruff on his chin and cheeks, he stopped where Tucker sat with Melissa, Deuce, and Isaiah. He stood there with his feet spread like he meant to start a fight. “You,” he said gruffly.

  Tucker couldn’t believe his eyes. He scrambled out of the seat, one arm outstretched to shake this legend’s hand. “Smoke Montoya? Melissa, come meet this guy. Isaiah. Deuce. This here’s a real no-kidding hero. It’s Smoke Montoya.”

  Smoke grasped Tucker’s forearm in a warrior’s grip. “I had to see it with my own eyes, you son-of-a-bitch. You’re still around.”

  Tucker hadn’t a clue what that meant. He slapped his brother SEAL’s back. Hard. “Course I’m still around. Why wouldn’t I be? Man, I never thought I’d see the day we were in the same place at the same time. Where you going?”

  Smoke jerked his head to the side. “Nowhere. Just came here to meet the guy who faced off with those thirty-plus piece-of-shit insurgents in that battle with the Kurds in Iraq. That was some mean work and a brave thing you did saving those eleven missionaries. I heard you took a round, but you held off that horde all by yourself ’til help showed up. I’m damned proud to know you.”

  “You’re kidding? You came to see me?” That made no sense. Smoke was the hero. Not Tucker. Everyone who was anyone knew that. “It was no big deal—honest. I was just doing my job. How do you know Stewart?”

  “He’s been around.”

  Man, this guy was hard as a rock and about as forthcoming as Alex.

  Smoke planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest after that one handshake, but didn’t crack another hint of expression, much less a smile. He didn’t lower his dark glasses when he nodded at Isaiah and Deuce, nor when he acknowledged Melissa with a gruff, “ma’am.”

  “Hello, Mr. Montoya. Any friend of Tucker’s is a friend of mine.” She lit the world with her dazzling smile, but Smoke seemed impervious to a woman’s charms. He didn’t budge an inch. Didn’t offer to shake her hand. Isaiah’s or Deuce’s either. Just stood there like a brick wall.

  “Do you have time for a drink?” Tucker asked, star struck with his superhero standing this close. “I’m buying. Beer? Whiskey? You name it.”

  The guy wasn’t very old, but to finally meet the Navy SEAL sniper who held the current record for confirmed kills against an enemy that had no problem beheading women and children? Priceless. Tucker was pretty certain that was how Smoke got his handle—his uncanny ability to get in close enough to take out five or six bastards at a time without being seen by anyone but his spotter. The man was exactly like smoke—there one minute, gone the next. Tucker couldn’t recall Montoya’s real first name any more.

  Smoke stuck his hands in his pockets and looked away. “No, thanks. I’ve got places to be.”

  What did you say to a guy who acted as if he’d rather be anywhere else than there with you?

  Smoke solved the awkward moment with an abrupt, “See ya around.”

  “Hey, wait up a second. You got a number?” Tucker pressed, not wanting this once-in-a-lifetime moment to end. He pulled out his brand new cell phone to take Smoke’s contact information. “I’ll hook up with you when you get back to the States. We’ll grab a beer. Tell a few lies. Tell me where and when, and I’ll be there.”

  Smoke shook his head. “No,” he said without hesitation. “I’m not going back to the States any time soon.”

  Well, alrighty then. Tucker backed his enthusiasm off. As far as he knew, the guy had never married and he hadn’t gone home once he’d left the Navy, just disappeared and migrated from one foreign country after another. Tucker didn’t know why, but he understood. Some scars ran deeper than others, that was all. Some ghosts never let go.

  “I’ll never forget this day,” he admitted honestly. “I mean it. It’s been a privilege just to shake your hand. I hope you’ll come home someday. I hope I’ll get to buy that drink for you. God knows you deserve it.”

  Smoke grunted and Tucker couldn’t miss the hostile vibes rolling off the guy. It might’ve been disgust. Maybe anger. He wasn’t going to double it by adding, ‘Thank you for your service.’ Sincere or not, most veterans hated the attention they got for doing their job when so many others had died.

  Isaiah and Deuce stood there quietly, when, with a curt nod, Smoke took a step back and pivoted, his hands still in his pockets.

  “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Montoya,” Melissa said sincerely to his broad back. “Maybe next time we can talk longer.”

  Tucker saw it then, the coiled rattlesnake embroidered under the shoulder blades of Smoke’s leather jacket, and the gold Don’t Tread On Me stenciled beneath it. Enough said. This man wanted his space and he wanted it now.

  Tucker had said all he could anyway. He snaked an arm around Melissa’s waist and watched the hero walk away, an odd lump in his throat. A man shouldn’t be so lonely. He shouldn’t have to live out his days in foreign countries. He should’ve gone home. Why hadn’t he?

  “He’s not very talkative, is he?” Melissa asked, her palm on Tucker’s chest, but her gaze on the solitary man intent on getting lost in the crowds of people coming and going.

  “I guess not,” Tucker answered, wondering what the hell had just happened, and what Smoke’s story was. It must’ve taken a helluva lot for the reclusive guy to come all the way into this busy airport just to shake hands with the wrong hero.

  Tucker didn’t have time to worry about it. His flight to America was just called.

  He and his family were going—home.

  Epilogue

  “You’re bullshittin’ me. You want me to do what?”

  Tucker should’ve known they were up to something when he received a personal request to meet with FBI Director Zachary Strong and his nemesis, Alex Stewart. There they sat opposite Tucker at the conference table in Strong’s office, in their matching gray business suits and both wearing blazing red power ties. What’d they do? Call coordinate their apparel for the day? Who were they, the Bobbsey Twins from Hell? Request nothing. This was an ambush.

  “You heard me,” Director Strong said evenly. “I’m assigning you to head the newest department in the agency. You’ll work directly with HRT when necessary, but you’ll answer directly to me. Alex will serve as advisor.”

  HRT, as in the Hostage Rescue Team, aka SWAT. Alex Stewart as in—what the hell?

  By then, Tucker had sold his place. He’d moved Melissa out of her singles-only condo and into a comfortable home east of National Harbor with him and Deuce. It was a new start for the three of them, but from day one, she’d amaze
him at the instant rapport she had with his son. Deuce hadn’t called Melissa mom yet, but that’s precisely what she was. His friend. His protector. His confidant. Everything he should’ve had all along.

  Tucker was finally sleeping nights. He’d cut out the booze and slowed his response time to the demands from his office. He didn’t need to be on-call twenty-four-seven. Not anymore. Let some younger agent take on that unrealistic challenge. Tucker was content to be caught up in the adventure of a lifetime—building his family. He was a winner again to the only two people who mattered, Melissa and Deuce. Everything and everyone else came in second place.

  “Say I accept, what will my prime directive be? My mission?” Tucker asked his director.

  Strong shrugged. “Counter-terrorism, both domestic and foreign. Protecting Americans. Basically, you and your team will do anything and everything you can to protect and serve. Just like you’re doing today.”

  Alex never batted an eye.

  Tucker swallowed hard, wishing he could see inside these two apex predators’ hard heads. They weren’t kidding anyone. There was a catch in the offer, a razor in the bait, a hook in this too-good-to-be-true proposition that blatantly promised an over-the-top federal salary no other agent that Tucker knew earned. It would be hard to turn down a raise like this one, and he was a family man now. He owed Melissa and Deuce a semi-normal, comfortable life.

  Besides, he was tired. He’d just returned from an undisclosed trip to Vietnam to see if Vinnie had meant what he’d said when he’d promised he’d change. The man would’ve been smart if he had, but had he? Not on your life. And because he was still threatening children at his sweatshop, and because that mean old hag of his still used her rod on children, Tucker made sure the Vietnamese authorities received every single piece of the incriminating evidence Isaiah had gathered. By the time Tucker hit Tân Sơn Nhất International Airport to exfil out of there, Vinnie’s place had been raided, and his sons were in the care of their Grandmama. Vinnie was on his way to join Nicole in jail. God, they deserved each other.

  Alex cleared his throat, no doubt sensing Tucker’s mind was a couple thousand miles from the decision point in front of him. Tucker shifted his gaze from one snake to the other. Stewart and Strong had also promised him his own budget and autonomy in selecting the agents he’d need. That part of the deal actually made sense. Tucker knew plenty of good men and women in need of employment, some from the Navy, some Marines or soldiers. But these two gentlemen, and he used the term loosely, were up to something. They had something up their crisply ironed cotton sleeves besides their hairy arms.

  There had to be a catch.

  Tucker kicked back in his seat, his elbow on his armrest, his index finger on his cheekbone while he studied Alex. “You haven’t had much use for me before. Why now?”

  As expected, Alex leaned into the question, his elbows to the table, his tough guy façade never wavering, his jaw tight. The guy didn’t know the meaning of retreat. “I’m not here to play games, Chase. It’s simple. You’re the best man for the job. Take it or leave it, but hurry the hell up and decide. I’ve got work to do.”

  Tucker stared the hard man down. What he wouldn’t have given for another chance to work with this straight arrow someday. Deep down, Alex was another legend, breath of King Leonidas from the Battle of Thermopylae. Shit. Just shit.

  The last rule of negotiation tugged at Tucker’s brain cells: Always ask for one more concession. “Fine,” he breathed suspicion with his answer, “on one condition.”

  Zachary sent him the dare of a chin-lift.

  Alex stared back, his eyes hooded. Calculating. “What now?”

  “I want Ky Winchester and his wife, Eden.” Tucker stuck out his chin, too. If a man was going to fight, he might as well throw in all the way. They were both psychics, Eden for sure, Ky a definite maybe. They’d be his ace-in-the-hole. Make that aces. “With them I can get this department up and running in no time. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Fast action? Results? Answers?”

  Taking an asset from each Stewart and Strong sounded smart when Tucker said it. It sounded brash and pushy and professional—until a sneaky look passed between the two high-stakes power brokers. Why did Tucker have a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of his gut?

  “I have no problem with that.” Alex damned near smiled.

  Like that helped.

  Zachary extended a hand across the table. “Deal.”

  Still not helping.

  Tucker’s gut clenched tighter, but he shook his boss’s hand to seal the negotiation. The first rule of a good SEAL: Never let an opportunity for one-upmanship slide. “Tate Higgins, too. I want... Tate.” Now he just hoped Tate and Ky wanted to work with him. He might just have to develop some real, no-kidding people skills.

  Alex never hesitated. “Done.”

  Damn, did he have ice water in his veins, willingly surrendering two of his best agents to the federal entity he’d battled for years? Tucker swallowed hard. What the hell was really going on? That win should have sent him into a happy dance instead of a tailspin. Shit. What am I not seeing?

  The thought of Melissa’s pretty face spurred him to take his chances and double down. She owned him, heart and soul. She might as well have his ears and eyes, too. He went for broke. “And I’m done with this cochlear implant. I want it gone. The optical implant, too. I’m no guinea pig.” There was only way this was going down—if he got every last perk he asked for. Melissa deserved that much, and by hell, for once, Tucker would come out ahead of his boss, even if it meant he’d let the rest of the world down. This was all about Melissa and he’d be sure to tell her about the surgery—beforehand. She deserved nothing but his best and he meant to give it to her. He only needed one person in his head anyway, and that person was Melissa. Maybe Isaiah.

  Thankfully, this new position promised more pay, regular hours, and administrative work instead of fieldwork, all benefits. He wasn’t that cocky ball-buster anymore. He wanted a job he could walk away from at the end of the day. He needed more time with his woman, with Deuce too. He wanted his life.

  Zachary nodded indifferently. “It was always a voluntary choice. Consider it done.”

  Tucker fidgeted, the collar of his dress shirt all at once extra tight. Why couldn’t he relax with these two guys? They didn’t intimidate him. Who turned the thermostat up?

  “So what’s the new department? What’s the new workload that’s so important it gets its own budget?” he asked, ignoring the hairs lifting up on the back of his neck. Ignoring the warning pinging from his inner sniper that told him to run, duck, and cover his ass. Still meeting Alex eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe, though. Still an equal. He thought.

  Alex finally smiled, if that was what you wanted to call that snide thing that crawled over his lips and coiled in those icy blue eyes. It looked more like a pet rattlesnake. “Congratulations, Agent Chase. You’re now the first director of the Bureau’s one and only paranormal unit. Good call negotiating for Ky, Eden, and Tate. They’ll fit in perfectly.”

  Tucker jumped out of his seat. “The what? The paranormal unit? What’s that?”

  Zachary grinned. “We’re expanding our one-person psychic unit, Director Chase. Glad to have you aboard.”

  Isaiah’s steady voice crept through the backdoor in Tucker’s mind. “Hey, Boss.”

  THE END

  About the Author

  Irish Winters is an award-winning author who dabbles in poetry, grandchildren, and rarely (as in extremely rarely) the kitchen. More prone to be outdoors than in, she grew up the quintessential tomboy on a farm in rural Wisconsin, spent her teenage years in the Pacific Northwest, but calls the Wasatch Mountains of Northern Utah home. For now.

  The wife of one handsome husband and mother of three perfect sons, Irish divides her time between writing at home, and traveling the country with her man while – writing. (Seriously, what else?)

  She believes in making every day count for something, and follows the wise
admonition of her mother to, “Look out the window and see something!”

  To learn more about Irish and her books, please visit www.IrishWinters.com.

  In the Company of Sniper series

  ALEX

  MARK

  ZACK

  HARLEY

  CONNOR

  RORY

  TAYLOR

  GABE

  MAVERICK

  CASSIDY

  ADAM

  LEE

  KY

  Christmas Hearts

  Coming soon

  Smoke, Hearts and Ashes Trilogy, Book 1 (January 2017)

  Hunter, In the Company of Snipers, #14 (2017)

  Eric, In the Company of Snipers, #15 (2017)

  Jake, In the Company of Snipers, #16 (2017)