Page 6 of Jack of Hearts
“I’ll call Rothmire first thing in the morning and set it up.” Nate slid out of the booth. “I’m heading for home.”
“Me, too,” Court said.
Alex collected their bottles. He hoped their bureau chief agreed to loan them Taylor. Once she showed up on his arm, the man was going to want her. That was Ramon, wanting whatever anyone else had, especially a beautiful woman.
At least Taylor was trained to protect herself. He had taken aKrav Magaclass with her and had been duly impressed with both her determination and skills. He’d never been at the gun range with her but heard that she put it through the bull’s-eye every single time. So, yeah, he was good with introducing her to Ramon.
After dropping the beer bottles in the recycling bin, Alex followed his brothers to the garage. As their three Harleys roared onto the street, he fell into his usual position, with Nate in the lead, Court in the middle, and him in the tail gunner position.
Alex liked riding behind his brothers where he could keep an eye on them. It felt like he was protecting Nate and Court, something he owed them both for taking care of a confused, angry boy.
Even though Nate had mostly raised him, growing up, Court had also kept an eye on him. Court was the one Alex had gone to when he needed to confess a sin before Nate heard about it. Together, the two of them would devise a story that would put Alex in a better light than he deserved. Because he’d often found himself in trouble, he had a special place in his heart for Court. That didn’t mean Court hadn’t given him hell, but Court’s hell was easier to take than Nate’s. Disappointing Nate had always made him feel like a brainless slug.
As he followed his brothers home, for some damn reason he thought of his mother and wondered if she’d be proud of how they’d turned out. It had been twenty-two years since he’d last seen her, and because she’d made no attempt to contact them, he guessed he’d never know. They didn’t even know if she was still alive.
At the security arm blocking their way to the lower-level parking garage, he pulled up next to Court while waiting for Nate to punch in the code.
“You going to head back out?” he asked Court. Alex was feeling restless and wasn’t sure he was ready to pack it in.
“Nah. I’m worn out.” Court grinned like a mischievous boy. “Might ruin my reputation if I tried to make a lady happy tonight.”
“And here I thought nothing could keep you from getting it up.” He leaned his bike toward Court’s, reached over, and punched his brother’s arm. “You’re no longer my hero.”
“Liar. I’ll always be your hero.”
The security arm lifted, and Court followed Nate into the garage before Alex could retort. If he’d had the chance, he would have said, “Both you and Nate are my heroes.” And he would have meant it. Without them, Alex Gentry would have been crushed under his father’s heavy hand.
There were ten floors in their condo complex, and Alex lived on the eighth. Court had his place on the ninth, and Nate’s condo was on the tenth.
When the elevator came to a stop at the eighth floor, he waved a hand at his brothers. “Let me know if Taylor’s a go.”
“I’ll call you after I talk to the boss,” Nate said as the door closed.
Alex walked down the hallway, passing two condo units before he came to his own. After letting himself in, he took out his phone to check for messages. Nothing from Madison, so that should mean she was tucked snugly in her bed, safe and sound.
And there he went again, thinking of her in bed.
Madison had dreamed of Alex. In a way, that was surprising because she had never dreamed about a man she actually knew. Sure, in high school she’d had some about various teen heartthrobs, but never about one of her boyfriends. In her dream, Alex had given her a toe-curling kiss.
“Why are you sighing?”
Startled, Madison spilled coffee over the side of her cup. “What?” She’d totally spaced out, forgetting her roommate was in the kitchen with her.
Lauren grabbed a paper towel and handed it to her. “You’ve been sitting there, staring into space and sighing. You’re crushing again, aren’t you?”
Madison groaned, wishing Lauren didn’t know her so well. “Can we talk about something else? Like how much we still have to do today if we’re going to open tomorrow?”
Madison and Lauren had met in college when they’d joined the same book club and had hit it off immediately. When they’d discovered each dreamed of opening a bookstore, they had teamed up, pooling their resources. High Tea and Black Cat Books was scheduled to open tomorrow. They’d agreed on a soft opening, planning a grand splash for a month later. Madison loved that when she’d suggested adding tea, coffee, and baked goods, along with selling books, her friend had jumped on board with the idea.
Lauren had come up with the name, and they’d scouted the no-kill shelters for the perfect black cat. Hemingway, the one they’d come home with, was—unlike every other cat in the world—not a morning person. At the moment, he was sound asleep flat on his back, legs splayed, in the middle of the kitchen floor. They didn’t try to be quiet around him because nothing woke him until he was ready to be woken.
On a rainy afternoon they had found the shop, the last place on their list for that day. Discouraged by what they had seen so far, they had almost blown it off. Every place they’d looked at either had needed so much work that it would take a fortune to make it a bookstore, or was so expensive that it was out of their league.
Then they had walked through the door of a former coffee-slash-souvenir shop, and had said at the same time, “This is it.” The place had been perfect. The previous owners had set it up to sell coffee, with tables spread around for those wanting to hang while they had their morning fix. In the other half of the space, they had sold souvenirs. Cheap Miami Beach ones, based on the left-behinds Madison discovered when she’d found a box of rubber dolphins and mermaid lamps tucked away in the crawl space under the stairs.
The best part, though, was a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment above the shop where they could live. Next best, it was a little under their max budget. They had spent the previous five weeks painting, retrieving boxes of books from storage, and setting up their upstairs living space.
Lauren went to the sink and rinsed her coffee cup. “Yeah, I guess we better get to it. I peeked downstairs when I got up, and the book fairies didn’t get a thing done while we were sleeping.” She leaned back against the counter. “You do know, one way or another, I’m going to find out who you’re sighing over.”
