King of Hearts (Deuces Wild Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Praise for Irish Winters’ Sniper series

  For My Readers

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The Dead Man's Hand

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  In the Company of Sniper series

  KING of HEARTS

  The Deuces Wild Series

  Book 1

  IRISH WINTERS

  King of Hearts; The Deuces Wild Series, Book 1

  Copyright © 2016 by Irish Winters

  All rights reserved

  First Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover design and author photo by Letitia Hasser, Romantic Book Designs, http://www.rbadesigns.com

  Interior book design by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Editor: Lauren McKellar, McStellar editing,

  http://mcstellarediting.blogspot.com

  ISBN Paperback: 978-1-942895-40-4

  ISBN eBook: 978-1-942895-39-8

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016956969

  Irish Winter’s author websites are:

  http://www.irishwinters.com and irishwinters.blogspot.com

  Praise for Irish Winters’ Sniper series

  ALEX, Book 1

  “These characters were so well written at times I felt like I was feeling the love, the loss, and the triumph right along with them.” Amazeballs Book Addicts

  ZACK, Book 3

  “This is my first book by Irish Winters and I have to say I'm sold!” ThePleasureofReadingToday.

  HARLEY, Book 4

  “… one of the sweetest male heroes that I have come across in a long time.” ReadsAllTheBooks

  CONNOR, Book 5

  “Thrilling, suspenseful, heartbreaking and tender - you will not want to put this book down once you start.” Jen M.

  RORY, Book 6

  “Irish Winters’ Sniper series is a pure, one hundred percent, five star read!” LJ Vickery

  MAVERICK, Book 9

  “Irish Winters, you have ruined me with Maverick, ruined me in the very best of ways.” ReadsAllTheBooks

  ADAM, Book 11

  “These books are like potato chips. You read one and you just can't stop. Keep them coming.” Lhill

  LEE, Book 12

  “Irish's BEST EVER!!! Best book I've read in a long time!! Little twist here, little twist there and BAM...She's got you!!” Kindle customer

  KY, Book 13

  “Home run!” Melissa Raywood

  For My Readers

  Be sure to go to IrishWinters.com and sign up for my newsletter to receive hot-off-the press, upcoming book release announcements. You’ll also receive a link in the newsletter to download Christmas Hearts when it’s released on November 24th. Christmas Hearts is a collection of Christmases spent with Alex Stewart and several of his team.

  Don’t miss this limited time offer. It’s my gift to you!

  DEDICATION

  God Bless America

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  So here we are, off on another adventure, this time running with the elite paranormal unit in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. After the bitter feud between Alex Stewart’s TEAM and the FBI in my Sniper series, this book has been a long time coming. I couldn’t ask for a more headstrong alpha male than Tucker Chase to lead what will, I think, be a three book series. But then, I never intended the Sniper series to grow to what it is today, thirteen books published and another three primed and ready to go in 2017.

  To my faithful fans and good friends the world over, I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. You’ve touched me with your patriotism and dedication to our country. I’ve heard from so many of you willing to share stories from your military experience, your love of country and spouse, and honestly, that’s the best reward of all. You’ve made me cry at what you’ve suffered, and how much you love America. I love America, too. Thank you for taking a chance on this new series.

  As always, I end with my husband, Bill. My real hero. Because of your patience and understanding, sweetheart, my guys and gals live. Don’t go anywhere. The best is yet to be!

  The Dead Man’s Hand

  Old West lawman, gambler, gunslinger and showman, James “Wild Bill” Hickok, was murdered on August 2, 1876, while playing five-card draw at Nuttal & Mann’s Saloon in Deadwood, Dakota Territory. Jack McCall, a disgruntled gambler, approached Hickok from behind and shot him at point-blank range in the back of the head, killing him instantly. McCall was later hanged for the murder, but by then, America had lost one of its premier Wild West heroes.

  Legend tells us “Wild Bill” held two pair at the moment of his death, black aces and eights—the dead man’s hand. The identity of the fifth card has been the subject of conjecture for years. For the purpose of this series, I’ve chosen a deuce of hearts for that card-in-the-hole, in honor of a little boy named Devlin who loved to play the violin. In honor of a father’s undying love for his son.

  Some players think wild cards are amateurish and juvenile. Others believe the more wild cards in the game, the greater their chance of winning. I only know that one Deuce and a pair makes three of a kind, and that sounds a lot like a family to me. You be the judge.

  Deuces Wild.

  Prologue

  I’m on my way.

  Again.

  Tucker Chase couldn’t get to her house fast enough, but damn, he was tired of the on-again, off-again rollercoaster romance with Melissa McCormack, and the siren call of the temptress he wasn’t man enough to resist. He was sick of her mixed signals, too. One minute she was pulling him in for another kiss, the next, pushing him back, not ready to move on. Why not? He was ready. Why’d she have to make everything so hard? Why couldn’t she find that God-blessed closure she needed?

  It was a stupid question, and he got it. Really, he did. A widow needed more time to move on than a divorced man, but how much more time? To hell with closure.

  He punched the steering wheel of his black Dodge Challenger. He�
�d been playing this game for over a year, and during that year, he’d been uncharacteristically faithful. He hadn’t once looked at another woman, which was not his style. He’d taken it slow with Melissa—also not his style. He’d romanced and dined the hell out of her, he’d bought her more roses than he’d ever bought his ex-wife in their short, explosive marriage, and he’d waited. Oh, how he’d waited.

  But every single time he took things a little too far, every time he read her sexy body language and thought she was past regret and ready to give in to him, bam. She drew back and pulled away. Son-of-a-bitch but he was tired of the regret glimmering in her blue eyes. The shadow she seemed to nurse like a long-lost friend. The ghost of her dead husband.

  Damn Brady McCormack for being such a stand-up guy. For being her hero. For getting shot to hell in Iraq and coming home a quadriplegic. For dying. And damn Melissa for still being eternally faithful to her first true love. How could a flesh-and-blood guy compete with a marble headstone in Arlington?

  Tucker couldn’t. He looked both ways before he crossed the busy intersection against the light. Damn it. Despite his intense heartache for Melissa, he wasn’t angry with her for loving her husband. Not really. That was actually part of what drew Tucker to Melissa. Her loyalty. Her undying devotion. She was that once-in-a-lifetime, too-good-to-be-true, impossible dream girl. From the get-go, she’d been a single ray of sunshine in his solitary world where warriors crossed paths with evil incarnate. She was that first breath of fresh spring air on a chilly March morning. If anything, he was jealous of Brady, and more than a little angry the guy went and got shot up so bad that he’d eventually died. Melissa deserved to be happy again. Tucker wanted to be that guy.

  The car to his left blared a warning. He flipped the driver off, hit the gas, peeled rubber, and kept moving. There he was, half-crazy with needing Melissa and running red lights to get to her side before she changed her mind. Dodging slow traffic. And cursing all the way.

  Melissa was not like other women. She was a one-man-and-one-man-only kind of gal, and he’d been caught in the same breathless grip ever since. One look into the liquid depths of her ocean blue eyes and he’d fallen like a punch-drunk sailor over his own big feet. Strength swelled in those shimmering windows to her soul, but other things lingered in the shadows. Sadness. Bravery. Her morals.

  He cussed the early morning traffic on the Northern Virginia freeway. Tapping his fingernails on the stick shift, he forced a deep breath to calm his need for speed. The last thing he wanted was another ticket, and this souped-up pony would get it for him if he didn’t rein it in and take it easy. Melissa wouldn’t like that, either.

  Sheesh. That woman!

  For now, she lived in a singles-only condo west of Arlington, close to her family and her husband’s family. That was another thing. Her parents were good Christians and nice people. Tucker had met them. He liked them, especially her mother. Camille had welcomed him with open arms, a hug and a big smile. But her father? All he’d done was scowl and grumble during Tucker’s visit. It took extra patience to get through that night.

  Then the McCormacks, Jed and Lois. Where to begin? Brady had been their only child, their pride and joy. When he’d died from complications due to his war injuries, Melissa became their world. If her own parents didn’t dote on her, Jed and Lois surely did.

  She was everyone’s rock star. Tucker was just another groupie hanging around for an autograph. She meant the world to them. He was the proverbial bad boy they hoped she’d grow out of, get over, and leave in the dust when she moved onto someone more socially acceptable. So what if he had a reputation for being a notorious hard-ass around D.C.? What decent FBI agent didn’t? They got the dirty jobs done, and they had a lot to be proud of, damn it.

  He pulled onto Melissa’s street and roared up to the security gate of her condo complex. “Hey,” he said smoothly to the up-tight security guard. “I’m back.”

  “I see that. Slow it down. Five miles per hour, please.” The stuffy guy raised the wrought-iron security gate, and Tucker made sure he didn’t exceed the pathetically slow speed limit to her door. Melissa waited for him on the sidewalk and double damn if she didn’t take his breath away like she always did.

  He shoved the stick shift into park and let the sight of her wash over him. His heart swelled. As frustrated as she could make him, Melissa also made him proud. This woman was as strong as she was beautiful, as intelligent as she was kind. She also had a soft streak the size of Texas, and it ran clear to her soul.

  He took time to drink in her voluptuous curves. There wasn’t a hard line or edge to the woman. “Melissa,” he called as he scrambled out of the Challenger, his heart in his throat like always.

  But look at her. What man could resist? Blond long hair hung in spirals down her back and over her shoulders. Full breasts bounced beneath her pale yellow top. As she walked toward him, curvy hips swayed with a provocative catch-me-if-you-can. Even her lush, sweet lips were turned up into a perfect bow of juicy temptation, the soft Virginia sun bright on her face. The woman had been created to drive him crazy, all lush curves from her plump hips to her full and very soft breasts. He would know. Second base was as far as he’d gotten. She just wouldn’t give it up, no matter what he’d tried, and believe him—he’d tried.

  “Tucker! Hi!” She smiled, full of vitality and happy to see him. Her fluffy Yorkie, Taz, bounced at her ankles. He looked happy to see Tucker, but what dog wasn’t? Dogs were smart enough to recognize a good guy when they saw one.

  Tucker closed the distance with long strides, wondering which of them was the bigger fool, her for leading him on or him for letting her. “You called?” he asked as she walked into his arms. He gathered her up, and closed his eyes, inhaling the feminine scent of green apples and vanilla musk. Maybe cinnamon. God, it was happening again. He wanted to rub her over his chest—and other places—just to keep her essence with him all the time. That was what he’d missed—this simple reminder that she really did belong to him. That they were made for each other. That he could be her hero, if she’d just let him in.

  The battle for her heart never went away. It hadn’t since he’d first seen her, and her scent only made it worse. There he was, as hard as a rock in all the wrong places and ready to try again.

  Tilting her chin upward with his thumb, he looked into the sweetest face. Her lips blossomed with a genuine smile, and he succumbed to her invitation. He took her mouth with all the tender love in his heart, running his tongue over her lips and allowing her time to let him in. She always did, and Melissa knew how to kiss. She seemed to pour all of her womanly charm into that sensual contact. She fully engaged, her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed to his chest, and her teeth and tongue actively involved. Nipping. Tugging. Tasting him the same way he tasted her.

  Like it or not, Tucker Chase was hooked like a great sea bass off the Atlantic coast. A man could get used to the sensual sweep of her tongue over his, the tango of mint and lipstick. The promise of that elusive more he’d been looking for. The way she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and nibbled. The soft murmurs of a satisfied woman he ached to satisfy even more. Yeah. She wanted him, and God knew he wanted her.

  He let his hand sink to the small of her back, his fingertips splayed over the round plump cheek of her ass. He longed for the day she’d let him get a good grip, but he didn’t dare tempt fate. Not today. She’d sounded anxious on the phone earlier. He needed to pay attention.

  She eased away from his mouth and leaned her cheek to his chest, her head tucked under his chin. See, that was what turned him inside out. She wanted to be close, really close—just not as close as he wanted her to be. And yet she did. He could read it in her eyes, just before she’d push him away. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, but that noble Marine she’d married and buried stood in the way. Every time.

  “It came,” she said, a tremor of excitement in her tone. “It finally came. I’ve been selected.”

  He would�
�ve answered, but the seductively warm heat radiating from this woman’s sexy body robbed him of all common sense. He cocked his head and waited for the rest of the story. What had come? She’d accused him of not listening enough, and he knew better than to open his big mouth, insert foot and admit it.

  “I’m leaving next week. Remember?”

  Tucker needed to see her face for sure then. He eased her back, his thumb under her chin to tip her gaze upward, just enough to read the answer in those lovely eyes. “You’re what? Leaving to go where?”

  “You didn’t hear me, did you?” she asked, that look in her eyes again. That look. The one that showed up right before every shove-off and goodbye. “You weren’t listening to me last week, were you?”

  “I thought I was, babe,” he admitted guiltily. “I really do try, but you’re so intoxicating. I might have missed something.”

  The smile faded. Here we go again.

  “You never listen, Tucker, and don’t give me that ‘babe’ or ‘I’m so intoxicating’ stuff.” She bobbed her head back and forth in a bad imitation of a swagger. “I need you to care about the things I care about. I need you to see me. Really see me.”

  There it was again, her palm square in the middle of his chest, enforcing her personal space. Like he didn’t know what ‘no’ meant. He didn’t mean to snort like he did, but holy shit. This woman drove him nuts ten ways to Sunday. “Where are you going, Melissa? Just spit it out and tell me.”

  “I’ve been accepted for a three-month mission with Doctors for Charity. I leave next Tuesday,” she said quietly. “I’ve talked about this with you. It’s important work. Tell me you remember.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his chin. Three months? She might as well have told him to drop dead because his heart sure felt like it had. What was he supposed to do while she gallivanted to the other side of the world on some humanitarian crusade with a bunch of horny doctors? Sit home and wait for her to decide to come back? Write letters? Shit. Just shit.