Snorting, Cam bit out, “Which is exactly why I told you to stay put. It’s your own damn fault for trying to do too much.”
The next hour drifted by in much the same way. Cam bitching, Drae fidgeting, and not much of anything else. He checked the weather app on his phone so many times his battery was dying.
And then his phone rang. Fishing in his slacks for the phone turned to agony when Drae had to shift a hip to allow access to the pocket. He groaned aloud from the painful effort.
“Victoria.”
“Give me that,” Cam hissed as he grabbed the phone from Drae’s hand with a menacing scowl. “She’ll know in two seconds something’s wrong the minute she hears your voice.”
Drae tried to reach for the phone, but Cam outmaneuvered him, something which wasn’t all that difficult. Damn him. He really needed to hear his wife’s throaty voice. Would help take his mind off the torture of his ribcage in trauma.
“Hey babe,” he heard Cam chuckle. “He’s in the shower and you know I can’t resist a chance to tell you what a pussy you’ve turned him into.”
Drae glared at his brother and shrugged—and fuck it all if that slight movement didn’t also hurt like ballz.
“Oh, you know. The regular drama only with a royal edge. Pissed off father. Sulking teenager. There was some yelling but for the most part it was a father-son reunion with the usual emotional garbage and promises that will quickly be broken on both sides.”
Cam seemed to be listening to Victoria, but he kept an eye on Drae the whole time. Dammit. He just wanted to talk to his wife. Was that too fucking much to ask for?
Cam was laughing. “Fucking weather. I think we’re taking a cab to the planetarium later this afternoon to check out some space exhibit.” There was a long pause then the man burst out laughing. “Of course I’m kidding. Draegyn St. John in a museum? Not gonna happen, right?”
Drae’s mood darkened. Did they have to be sharing jokes at his expense? “Give me the fucking phone,” he grumbled.
There were some hand gestures. A couple of fingers waved in the air and a blow me crotch grab but that phone never passed within an arm’s length of Drae. When the call ended, Cam made sure the disconnect went through before he tossed the phone back.
“You can talk to her later. Tonight. That way you can chalk up your surly attitude to crappy dinner martinis. Drae! You listening?”
Yeah. He was listening. But he felt like shit, and there was no need to pretend with Cameron that everything was fine.
“I need to lay down for a bit. Maybe pack my side with ice. And don’t say I told you so, man. I must be getting old or something ‘cause I can’t remember ever being this put down after a fight.”
Cam snickered and nodded. “Ice is a good idea. And for the record—you’re not all that old. The problem is the three hundred pound wall of steroid-crazed bulk that tried to snap you in two like a twig.”
LACEY WAS TIPTOEING THROUGH HER wardrobe closet, damp hair wrapped in a towel and a plain cotton robe tied loosely at the waist when she heard her phone chirp. Jumping quickly to silence it before the sound woke Dylan in the next room, she was surprised to find herself looking into the face of the one she loved.
Gasping, she blurted out, “Oh honey! Your head. Those stitches look ghastly.”
Cameron shrugged as if a major wound on his face was no big deal and quirked a quarter of a grin. “Cell phone versus my hard head.”
Lacey frowned. Though ordinarily she was fairly even-tempered and controlled, the idea of either of her two boys being hurt had her seeing red. Seeing the heartbreakingly handsome face of her hunky husband on her screen and then seeing the jagged gash above his eyebrow had unleashed a double dose of seething anger. Why, if she ever got her hands on the jerks who dared harm her Cameron, why—she’d …
She heard him chuckle and focused at the screen. “Babe, your expression just got pretty damn fierce. Don’t worry, love. I kicked his ass good. You can stand down.”
“Cameron Justice—I want you home. Now,” she cried.
“Easy love,” Cameron murmured. “I’ll be back by lunchtime tomorrow. Can you hang in there a little while longer for me?”
Lacey dialed back her fury and took a deep calming breath. Hang in there till tomorrow? Like she had a choice. Studying her husband’s beautiful face on the small screen, she realized that while he sounded and maybe even looked halfway reasonable, she could hear the underlying tension in his voice. There was no reason to pick it apart—she didn’t need to know every thought he had. It was enough that she heard it. This was her husband. The love of her life and he needed something from her or he wouldn’t have gone the extra mile of going for a face chat.
“Where’s our little man,” he asked her with a sigh. Poor Daddy, she thought. The distance was as hard on him as it was on her. More so since he was the one getting beat up while she was at home surrounded by every imaginable back-up.
Lacey knew what he needed. Cameron wanted a distraction. There wasn’t a damn thing they could do about the weather, but he was at the end of his rope, too. Putting her cell phone on a shelf in the closet, she propped it up against a shoebox and just started nattering away as if he was right there with her.
“He’s sleeping right now, so shhhh!” she quipped with a wink and her finger pressed against her lips. Giggling, she told her husband, “The minute his eyes closed for more than thirty seconds, I ran off to grab a shower before he got going again.”
To make her point, Lacey whipped the towel off her hair and shook out her long, damp mane. “As soon as you get back, Daddy, you’ll be owing me one extra-long soak in the tub while you handle Dylan Duty.”
Cameron chuckled and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am,” he barked. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Cameron.”
Lacey was well aware that when she dragged the big towel off her hair, it had dislodged the front of the robe, allowing her breasts to gape in the loosened opening.
She sat down on a bench stool facing the phone and brought one leg up, bent at the knee. “I can’t wait for Thanksgiving! Can you?” she purred enthusiastically while squirting a glob of moisturizer into her hands that she began rubbing into her leg. It all looked so innocent. Just like any husband and wife having a distracted conversation while they dressed. But everything Lacey did, everything she said, was calculated to give Cameron maximum distractibility. Tits, especially peeking tits, always did the trick.
“Remember last year, Cameron,” she laughed. “Now that was a memorable first Thanksgiving.”
His throaty chuckle wrapped around her senses and squeezed. “I certainly do remember! What man in his right mind would forget finding his woman dressed in a demure apron, black lace panties, thigh-high stockings, heels and absolutely nothing else but a wicked smile.”
“I was dressed to impress,” she giggled. Her other leg was up on the bench now and being thoroughly covered in the fragrant lotion. Rolling her shoulder in a jerky shrug, she teased, “Just figured if the meal sucked, maybe you’d overlook it if I had something else to offer up.”
“God, Ponytail,” Cameron snickered. “You are something and a half, you know that, right?”
Damn. She was trying to be all sexy and vixen-like, take his mind off whatever was grinding on him but was failing miserably. She didn’t want pretend sex. She wanted the real thing.
Slumping forward, she pulled her legs onto the ottoman and sat cross-legged with her elbows resting on her thighs. Looking straight into the phone, she grumbled, “I suck at this.”
“Awww, sweetie. No, you don’t,” Cameron quickly assured her. “It’s just not where you do your best work.”
Feeling like a fool, she readjusted the robe and tightened the belt with a hearty tug—which only earned her a deep rumbling laugh and a groan from her husband.
“Now dammit, see I was enjoying the boob flashing, honey.”
She stuck her tongue out at the camera and laughed. “Come home, Cameron. You’ll be back tomorrow,
right?”
“Funny you brought that up because according to Sawyer, as soon as he dumps us off he’s got a priority pickup that has something to do with what you and the ladies are planning for Tori.”
“What?” Lacey barked. “Sawyer has a pickup? Wait! Don’t say another word. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Cameron looked genuinely confused. “I don’t get it. You don’t know? But I thought from what he told me that all you gals were up to no good.”
“Okay,” Lacey whispered as if she was sharing a state secret. “Since the cat’s out of the bag, yes—we’re planning something special for Tori but what you’re referring to, well, that’s something Meghan and I don’t know about. There are some things being kept secret even from us so the element of surprise doesn’t get ruined. So don’t tell me anything else!”
Cameron nodded and grinned. “Well, I’ll be damned. You mean Betty and the ladies actually have you two in the dark? I’m pretty impressed since what I know is a big one. And I do mean b-i-g!”
“Don’t tell me!” she shrieked with laughter. “Trying to keep Tori and her mom in the dark has been a challenge, but we’re managing.”
“Baby, I think you deserve a special reward for being such a great friend. And such a terrific mother. Even though you do suck at sexting.”
“We were not sexting, husband. We were, uh…I don’t know. What do you call it when there’s just FaceTime going on?”
“I believe that may qualify as a sex tape,” he drawled.
Lacey almost fell over laughing. “Oh, my Gawd! A sex tape? And I screwed it up?”
“We’ll have to work on that,” Cameron assured her with a sexy wink.
“Get that tight butt of yours home Mr. Justice. And soon, okay?”
“You bet, darlin’. I’ll call you later—at bedtime, so I can hear your sexy voice before I try to sleep.”
AFTER PASSING OUT FROM A heavy-duty pain pill, Draegyn had slept the afternoon away and awakened feeling marginally better. Cam knew this because Drae hadn’t tried to bite his face off when he’d helped him move off the bed. They’d decided to eat at the steak house in the hotel, a sure sign that things were getting back to normal.
At Cameron’s insistence, they took a taxi after dinner to a nearby Cigar Lounge where they relaxed in leather armchairs by an open fireplace, enjoying expensive Montecristo cigars and cognac. They’d been smack talking the sports teams, but not much more than that when it came to conversation. Cam didn’t have a problem with that. Most times, he didn’t feel like sharing every burp and fart. He should have known Drae wouldn’t stay silent for long.
“She knows. Victoria. Knows something is wrong.”
Shit, Cam sighed. He knew that keeping Drae from communicating with his wife had been a delaying tactic and nothing else. Eventually, Tori would have to be told what happened. It was not like either of them could hide visible stitches, bruises and in Drae’s case—cracked ribs.
“How do you know that?” he asked. “I mean, how could she know unless you told her.”
Drae took a long pull off his cigar, rotating the end, while wisps of smoke swirled around his head and the glowing outer rim of the stogie cast a shadow on his face. “She knows because I haven’t talked to her.”
Yeah, Cam knew that’d end up being the loudest warning bell. That first night was one thing when a quick text was explainable, but there’d been radio silence between them ever since. Tori wasn’t stupid.
“What are you going to tell her? I mean, I assume that you’ll call her tonight and what? Tell her we got our butts kicked in a street fight?”
“She gets the truth with as much or as little detail as she wants. Victoria is my wife. She’s going to be pissed that she was kept in the dark for even five minutes.”
Relaxing into the comfortable leather chair, Cam smirked, took a deep mouthful of the fragrant cognac and fixed his brother with a serious look. “You met your match with that one, bro.”
Drae snorted his agreement. “She may be little but she is one scary monster when she puts her mind to it.”
A moment passed. Then another. Drae twisted the cigar a dozen times, squinting through the smoke.
“Can I ask you a question, Cam?”
Sounded serious. Hmmmm. Questions required answers and usually led to more questions. Drae wasn’t usually so pensive. Which was the only reason Cam had to explain why he opened himself up to a chat that was probably going to involve feelings and shit like that.
“Well, you can try, man. Don’t know how good I am with advice these days but give it a shot.”
Drae nodded, but it took another long pause for him to gather his thoughts before he blurted out, “Did you and Lacey have any uh…what I mean to say is—did you guys. Ugh! I hate this,” he muttered.
Well, shit. That was a lot like piecing together a single color jigsaw puzzle. Must be one hell of a difficult subject for the unflappable Draegyn St. John to be mumbling on and fumbling about like a tool.
“Fuck,” Drae muttered. “Restrictions. Did you have any restrictions during Lacey’s pregnancy?”
Even in the muted lighting in the smoke filled lounge, Cameron could clearly make out the slashes of embarrassed color highlighting Drae’s face. Wow. Talk about hilariously funny. The great and powerful pussy magnet was trying to navigate the thorny world of marital intimacy. Priceless.
“Nope,” he shrugged with a wry grin. “Not a one.”
“Oh. Well, maybe that wasn’t the right question. I mean that’s great and all. No restrictions. Um, maybe…I don’t know—did you feel like the uh, intimacy changed any?”
“Please tell me you’re not turned off by her condition.”
“What? Oh, fuck no! I didn’t mean it like that Cam. I love it. All of it. The big belly. The swollen feet. The ridiculous nighttime craving for chocolate ice cream and crushed saltine crackers. Victoria is fucking fantastic. I just mean, the doctor sorta gave me shit about my husbandly expectations, so now I’m like freaked out that she or the kid could get hurt. I don’t know. It’s all so fucked up.”
Cam considered what he’d just learned. Drae was reaching out to him as his brother. This was the good shit, man. Having a family. He almost laughed. Somewhere along the line, he’d moved into first place on the married with children scale. Unfucking-amazing.
“First of all, your doctor is a dick. Ours explained that there is actually a hormone in semen that can help labor get started. If you must know, we made love just a few days before Dylan was born with no problem. And you know that’s way more information than I’m comfortable sharing but if what you’re really asking about is if the intimacy changes after the baby is born, well that’s simple. Yes, yes, and hell yes.”
Before Drae could grimace and maybe read his answer wrong, Cam sat forward in his big chair, rested his forearms on his thighs and motioned for his brother to come in close. For this really personal shit, he wanted to keep it real.
His tone was hushed, direct. “It gets better, man. Like so much better, you’ll be amazed. Can’t tell you how many times we’d huddle in our bed with Dylan lying between us. We wouldn’t talk. Just lie there and watch our son then look in each other’s eyes. Nothing can rival that, man. Not even all the sex in the world. You’ll see.”
“Were you scared shitless at the end of the pregnancy?” Drae mumbled.
“Dead straight I was. Man—you don’t even know. Every crazy thought imaginable went through my head. My background,” he shuddered. “Worried about karma catching up with me or something.”
“You were so calm when Lacey went into labor.”
“Yeah. Had to be. She’s everything. I’d be fucked without her. Only reason I kept my wits was ‘cause she needed me. Otherwise, I might have been curled in a ball over in the corner.”
“Now see,” Drae grumbled. “Right there. That’s why I have to tell Victoria, tonight—what happened. She needs me to be honest with her. It’s her thing and I get it. She g
ives it all and I can’t offer anything less.”
The mood, already sober and serious shifted. Cam felt it. It actually made him pause and think. The air got thick and heavy. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Drae looked at him. They’d been together for so long and in so many different situations that they knew each other better than most. There’d been actual times when both their lives had been in the hands of the other. That was heady shit. The expression on his face gave Cam pause.
“Don’t think I want to do this anymore.”
Cam stared at Drae. All the moment needed to be complete was for Drae to have been holding a microphone that he could have dramatically dropped while making a hand gesture and shouting, “Boom.”
“Um, okay.” What was he supposed to say to such a bold statement? “Can you define what this is. When you say you don’t want to do this anymore, to what are you referring—specifically.”
Drae sat back, winced slightly and ran his hand from side to side across his abdomen. Sighing, he murmured. “I don’t want to get on a plane, fly halfway around the world to play security bad-ass for a bunch of businessmen, celebrities, and politicians. I don’t want to get cold-cocked outside a seedy motel by some dickwad who thinks he’s tough. Don’t want to strap on a gun. Don’t want to sit through a round of hookers and booze with off-duty agents south of the border. Don’t want to give a flying fuck about any of this shit.”
Holy fuckballz. The great and powerful Draegyn St. John was throwing in the towel.
Slumping into the back of the big chair, Cam groused and snorted dramatically. “Oh, that’s just fucking great, St. John! Does that mean we have to find another 007 for the brochures?”
Draegyn looked shocked by Cam’s snarky attempt at humor, then a smile broke out across his face followed by a hearty laugh. “You don’t seem all that surprised,” he said.
“I’m not,” Cam drawled with a firm nod of his head. “Been shuffling back and forth at the same crossroads for months, dude. I think I’ve had enough, too. Getting my ass kicked has only made the ambivalence stronger.”
Always (Family Justice Book 1) Page 23
