Redeeming Justice

by Suzanne Halliday

  The minute he was free, Alex had hurried to his hotel with the simpleminded focus of getting Meghan on the damn phone. Enough. She belonged to him dammit, and he wanted what was his. Groveling would take place if he had to. Hell, even thinking about her sultry voice got him so emotional he’d gladly cry if it would make a difference. Whatever it took—he was going to get her back.

  Fifteen minutes later, he’d crashed and burned in spectacular fashion. Running on adrenaline and the upside of a wild emotional swing, it took thee taps on his phone to connect with Meghan. It wasn’t until he heard the call ringing through that he realized he didn’t have a clue what to say. With panic starting to zing through his nerves it took a good long moment to comprehend that she wasn’t picking up.

  What the fuck? He hadn’t considered that as a possibility. Uncertainty, swift and uncompromising, stole his breath. Had she seen his name on her caller ID and chosen not to answer? Assailed with doubt, he was in no way prepared when the call went to voicemail. Remembering that Tori had told him not to expect too much at first, an icy chill of fear ran the length of his spine.

  He hated voicemail, and being caught off-guard this way made it even worse. He wanted to talk to Meghan, goddammit, not leave some lame fucking message. He needed to hear her voice so he would know how she was. When the beep signaled to start the message, it sounded like a gunshot aimed directly at his head.

  “Uh, hi.” Shit. “It’s uh, me. Um, Alex.”

  Why did every silent, tongue-tied second feel like an eternity? Pinching the bridge of his nose as if the sharp twinge would magically make him smoothly eloquent, he searched for something to say. This was not how he thought a simple call would unfold.

  Clearing his throat he choked out some more inane words. “Yeah, so I’m here. I mean….well, actually by here I mean D.C.”

  Oh my God. This was going in the shitter pretty damn fast. Could he sound any more like a mindless lunatic?

  “Uh, anyway. Since we’re in the same time zone I thought…um.” Alex was mentally loading bullets into a gun to blow his stupid head off when this ridiculous call ended. When exactly did um, yeah, and uh become such a big part of his vocabulary? Rolling his eyes he thought, ‘and I’ve been a commanding officer?’ Jesus. Wonders never ceased.

  Since clearly there weren’t two available coherent thoughts to string together in his message he threw in the towel. “Meghan. It’s Alex.” And then he pressed the disconnect button to terminate the call.

  “Well, that went well,” he’d sneered as he poured himself several fingers of whiskey. Two hours later, when he didn’t immediately hear back from her, he’d been well on his way to a righteous hangover. No wonder he felt like shit today. His entire evening had become one monumental pity party. She hated him or at the very least didn’t feel like speaking to him.

  Having Meghan turn away from him was like being gutted. Feeling like a fraud and a wimp, he thought about his pathetic lifelong insistence on being the one in control. What a joke. Who the hell was he kidding? At this moment, he was powerless, impotent, barely able to crawl - so undone by how things were turning out. It was his naughty Irish fuck goddess who was the one with all the power. Didn’t help that he’d been a day late and a dollar short in figuring that out. By giving herself over to his powerful desires and letting him have his control fantasy, she’d turned his emotional life on its head. And now that she was gone, he had nothing. I am so fucked, he thought.

  The idea of calling Tori and crying like a little girl crossed his mind. So too did contacting Drae directly and asking for his help. He could use 007’s cool, analytical presence right about now.

  No wonder he felt a hundred years old. Too much stress. Definitely more alcohol and less real food than was wise. A raging guilty conscience. The sudden and unfamiliar loss of confidence. The absence of his normal support team. Oh yeah, and a tightening in his groin that refused to settle down. Fucked didn’t actually cover how he felt.

  Rubbing his hand absently across his chest, as he narrowed his gaze on the cast of characters sharing his space, Alex wondered whether he should even bother continuing with this farce. He wasn’t the man these folks imagined he was. Not in his current state, anyway.

  Toughing it out for another two days was less than appealing. So was waiting around like a lovesick fool for some glimmer of hope from Boston. But when all was said and done, he didn’t have much choice but to let things play out as they were meant to.

  That didn’t mean that he had to endure alone. It would be wrong to isolate from the people closest to him when ultimately, they too would be affected by whatever happened with him and Meghan. They’d be pissed to find out he needed them but hadn’t let them know. Remembering how each of his Justice Brothers had needed help at critical points in their relationships with their women, Alex gave in and admitted that this time around he was the one needing back-up. An odd predicament for a bad-tempered, know-it-all who built a life carefully structured to keep any and all emotions at bay.

  His need for Meghan had broken down those walls. He was overcome with the deluge of feelings her presence in his life invited. It was heart-pounding, kiss-me-till-I’m-dying passion wrapped in a perfect cloud of love. He couldn’t breathe without her in his life. It sounded so simple when he put it like that.

  Meghan knew the toll being sucked from her body from the anxiety, lack of sleep, and almost total absence of food had gone off the charts when by Monday morning she felt like she’d been dragged through a knothole backwards. Her throat was sore, it was hard to swallow, and she was on fire but freezing cold. In addition to the thumping in her head, every inch of her body ached.

  Shaking from the fever, she huddled under a mound of blankets and tried to sleep off her symptoms as if they’d magically disappear. It was now Wednesday night, and she was slowly making her way back to the land of the living.

  For days a fever cocoon had wrapped tight around her that seemed to be fueled by the memories of her time in Arizona. They were like montages. Sometimes gritty. Sometimes focused and clear. All with a pulsing thrum of want, like a heartbeat. She recalled the sound of Alex’s voice when he was in absent-minded professor mode and how quickly she could get it to change into something deeper, darker, tinged with reminders of the man’s potent masculinity, by doing nothing more than being close to him.

  As illness wracked her body, her mind replayed each intimate moment down to the smallest detail. How it felt to be pulled onto his lap. The wonder she always experienced each time it happened because being a big girl, she’d always thought lap-sitting was for the tiny and petite. Discovering that her brawny lover got off by having her lush ass sitting on his groin had freed her so much that wiggling about and squirming against his Herculean body had become her go-to move.

  It was all there in her fevered thoughts, playing out like an erotic movie on the backs of her closed eyelids. His scent. How she loved using his spicy shower gel because it made her feel like a part of him was clinging to her skin. In the confines of a steamy shower, even without him present, that scent had a way of grabbing onto her senses and not letting go. She couldn’t remember how many times she leaned against the smooth tile wall as a heavy mist of steam and condensation gathered in the enclosure infused with the essence of his scent – turning her inside out with need. There was something mystical and otherworldly about feeling as though Alex’s essence was always with her. In desperate want she would snake her hand through the showering water down across her stomach through the dripping red ringlets guarding the puffy folds of her sex.

  One time she’d even acted it out while he watched with eyes so hot they scorched her skin. She’d felt sexy and wanton standing naked with water sluicing off the curves of her voluptuous body, one hand holding a mounded breast and the other between her legs, head back, eyes glazed with arousal as deep shudders rocked her from head to toe. She could hear him breathing heavily in the confined space, reveled in each excited hiss as she fondled herself for his pl
easure and absorbed his earthy grunt of male satisfaction that filled her senses at the moment of her climax. He did that to her. Knowing his desires and wants, she found it beyond exciting to have him watching as she writhed against a wall while bringing herself to orgasm.

  There were hundreds of fever-driven flashes just like that playing out in her dreams, most ending in a morphed image – a specific moment from their first time in his truck, something that was seared on her soul. He’d seemed stunned by her desperate need when she’d rode him like a bull, legs pressed against his sides absorbing the movement of his heaving chest as she lowered her greedy body onto his, inch by agonizing inch. The look of absolute wonder on his face once she had taken all of him and the momentary flash of vulnerability she found in his eyes kept replaying over and over in her thoughts. It was the moment that changed everything.

  What was left after the fever finished burning through her system was a body tortured with an achy tension and a mind struggling to contain the aftermath of uncovering all those memories. It had all felt so real. Waking to realize it was just her dreams, Meghan curled into a tight ball and felt her heart break all over again. He pushed her away. He didn’t want her, at least not enough to fight for her. It was agony in her soul.

  God, she yearned for him so damn much. No wonder she’d gotten sick. The missing and the blunt, visceral depth of her need were killing her. So was the horror of the rejection she felt because he hadn’t come after her. Deep in her heart of hearts Meghan had to admit that was what she’d been hoping for. That he’d see that while life could certainly suck sometimes and be difficult and messy, without her it was going to be even suckier and a thousand times more difficult and messy. She needed him to believe that they were better together than apart; that two halves really do make a whole; that the end result was worth the fight to get there. When he didn’t – her heart quietly shattered into a million pieces, all sharp and deadly, pressing into her soul.

  Making it worse was remembering that the moments when they awoke together in the sanctuary of his enormous bed. Meghan loved the intimacy of it. Them sleeping together. Waking up next to his solid presence, the heat rolling off his body. Sometimes she would lay still and quiet, marking him with her eyes, taking in every exposed inch of flesh. In the quiet stillness of the early morning those visual tributes felt sacred and beautiful. He was magnificent, and he was hers.

  The best part of all though was that moment when his eyes fluttered open, and he’d turn his head to search for her. In that brief first glance when their eyes met she would catch glimpses into the vulnerability he tried so carefully to control. Reliving those flashes her soul cried out. How could he let her go? And not just let her go – send her away with brutal backhanded snark.

  Throwing off the covers she growled and struggled to sit up. Fuck. Feeling weak as a baby, hollow and empty, her head started to swim. She wanted to cry. Just then her eyes fell on her cell phone. Didn’t surprise her in the least to see she’d been sleeping with the damn thing clutched close. At this point it represented the only lifeline she had left that could connect her to Alex.

  Tapping on the screen with weak, trembling fingers she checked for emails, noted the day and time then tossed it away. Wednesday. No email. If the information Tori had texted was right, he’d been in D.C. since late Sunday.

  Ugh, she groaned, flinging back onto the pillow-topped mattress to stare wretchedly at the ceiling. She was overwhelmed with awareness that he was nearby even if a couple hundred miles away. It was like she could feel him. She had to hope it was her imagination because if it wasn’t and she really and truly could connect to him like that she was beyond fucked. There was just no way she’d survive.

  “I’m not surprised to hear you couldn’t get through to her,” Tori said over the phone when Alex broke down and called her Wednesday night. It was getting late on the East Coast, the perfect time to catch his sister-in-law so he’d dialed her up and immediately begun fretting to her about Meghan not taking his call.

  Not surprised? Fuck. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Barking like an angry dog he asked, “Why aren’t you surprised? Did she tell you she wouldn’t speak to me?” Alex was suddenly filled with insecurity and fear.

  “Oh, no Alex. No!” came her instant response. “You misunderstand. I just meant that it was no surprise you didn’t get through because I also ended up hearing her lovely outgoing voicemail message when I checked in earlier. It’s not just you she didn’t answer for. I’m absolutely sure she’d take your call, Boss. Please calm down.”

  That was just it. He couldn’t calm the fuck down to save his life. His inner turmoil was like a ping pong ball – flying all over the place – back and forth, being relentlessly pounded with unsettling thoughts. Motherfucker. He wanted Meghan. All this bullshit was driving him over the edge. He needed her to stop the freefall he was in. Needed her sweet, giving heart and soft, lush curves to break his fall. He’d had enough. He was going to go get what was his.

  “I’m going to Boston, Tori. This is insane. Sitting here in Washington, hating every minute of what I’m doing even if it is good for the agency and killing myself with doubt about Meghan isn’t helping the situation. She either wants me or she doesn’t.”

  The groan that came through the phone let him know he’d said that last part like an arrogant prick.

  “Alex,” she bit out in a tone clearly intended as a voice of adult authority that would serve her well once she became a mother. “Let me take this moment to remind you that ultimatums won’t work. She either wants you or she doesn’t? Are you high?” she all but screeched. “You didn’t give a hot damn that she wanted you when you sent her away like a nuisance fan girl you’d grown tired of. So fuck you Major. I suggest you stand down and catch your breath before you make this worse.”

  Alex started to crumble. Tori was right. He couldn’t just puff up his chest, snap his fingers and demand Meghan submit to his he-man authority. Without thinking he reached for his manhood, subliminally protecting his balls from her wrath should he try such a bone-headed approach.

  “Holy fuck, Mrs. St. John. Help me out here, lady. I just can’t…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. After a long silent hesitation he added, “Do this. I can’t do this. It’s killing me.” He said that last part in a pained whisper.

  Several long moments ticked by with Alex clutching the phone to his ear, eyes closed, a sad, tormented expression glued to his face.

  In a voice that sounded like it had been lifted from the grave he murmured, “I need her, Tori. Nothing matters without her. Until she came along, I thought my whole world would forever be defined by the past; believed I’d spend an entire lifetime doing penance for things I had no control over. She gave me back the dream of a future. Drae said he thought she was my salvation, that through Meghan I’d stumbled on the most unexpected and unearned redemption ever imagined. I think he was right.” Groaning as he grabbed at his chest to stop his heart from falling to pieces he said, “I won’t make it without her. Please. Please tell me what to do.” He’d never felt as exposed or helpless as he did in that moment.

  He heard Tori sniff then clear her throat. Was she crying? “Tori?” he croaked. There it was, that sniff again. Fuck.

  “You made it, Major,” she choked out after another heavier throat clearing. “You made it to the other side of a huge leap of faith that took more courage and balls than anything you did in that damn war. Admitting proves you’re the man we all know you are. If that’s the way you feel and you are certain to the depth of your soul that this woman belongs to you, then yes Alex. You go and get her. My only suggestion is you get used to using the one word I still haven’t heard you say.”

  “Love,” he croaked. “You want me to admit I love her.”

  “No Big Daddy,” she chuckled. “It’s not me who needs you to admit it. I’m just saying – bitches like romance.”

  He smiled at the irreverent teasing in her tone. “Okay. Understood. Bitches lik
e romance. Got it.”

  They laughed together for a few moments then Tori giggled and said, “My lord and master is home so this call is over. You’ve got this now, Boss?” she asked

  He chortled with a grin. “Probably not. I seem to keep fucking things up without even trying but I feel better having talked with you. Thanks sis.”

  “Get off the damn phone,” he heard Drae growl a second before a sharp sound and Tori’s startled gasp shot through the phone.

  “Uh, bye Al…” and then the phone went dead. He laughed and shook his head as a visual of Drae smacking his wife’s butt before grabbing the phone from her and disconnecting the call filled his head.

  For the millionth time he thanked the universe for his Justice family. Tori and Drae plus Cam and Lacey and the children each couple was bringing into the world would enrich that family immeasurably. He desperately hoped before too long he’d be bringing his Irish goddess into the fold.

  He didn’t know it but back home in Arizona, after Drae had terminated their phone call then subdued his feisty wife with an incendiary kiss, she had winked at him saucily and said, “Pack your bag, Double-Oh-Sexy. Dad needs his boys so you and Cam will have to go wheels up in short order. Time’s a-wasting and Alex on his own is a recipe for guy-fuckery that only a team approach can manage.”