Justice (Bad Boys of X-Ops #2)

by Rie Warren

  Didn’t I know it? My feet pinched in the new tightly laced shoes.

  Holding her hands between mine, bouquet and all, I bent forward until my lips brushed her cheek. “You are also absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Breathtaking.”

  Her cheeks stained a pretty pink. “And you look fierce and stunningly handsome.”

  Heat rose higher in her cheeks as she licked her lips, and I could read her dirty thoughts from one single glance.

  With a deep booming voice, the minister managed to snag our attention. We dutifully turned away from one another to face him and the ocean that lit off sparks in pink and gold and blue and white.

  The formalities began, but I hardly heard a word. My heart took up such a steady hammering it echoed the waves rolling to shore, and my focus was elsewhere.

  On Tilly.

  I stared at her profile. The eyelashes curled today and tinted by mascara. Her lips, slightly parted, slightly smiling, a soft coral color I couldn’t wait to kiss clean off. Her upturned nose and the freckles.

  Ahhhh, those freckles.

  Discreetly as possible, I leaned back a little and tilted my head just so. Hmmm, a nice deep V in the back of her gown, too, surrounded by a ruffle. I could probably tuck my hand inside and caress a good bit of sun-warmed flesh.

  Tilly’s eyes flashed to mine, and I straightened just in time to turn her toward me.

  With the bouquet handed off, I held her hands in mine, stroking my thumbs across her skin.

  “Do you, Matthew Justice Chase . . .”

  “Matthew,” she mouthed with shining eyes.

  “I, Matthew Justice Chase take Matilda Lawless . . .” My voice came out even more bass-deep than usual.

  I held Tilly’s gaze, working to keep the words steady when a tear slipped down toward her chin.

  I promised her my love and my life. My honor and my heart. I captured the tear on my fingertip, and swore to cherish her with body and soul until death do us part.

  “And do you, Matilda”—her wrinkled nose, my shaky grin—“Dinah Lawless . . .”

  That time her fingers swept over mine, because mine quaked as I listened to her sweet voice and her soft drawl.

  Something turned over in my heart, made my stomach lift, brought my shoulders up and sent a swift reaction through me. Tears stung my eyes.

  She promised to be wife and lover and my match in all ways. She gave me her true love and her pure heart. Her voice nearly sang through my veins when she vowed richer, poorer, sickness, health, and always.

  Tilly touched my cheek and my jaw, smiling up at me when she murmured, “I do.”

  She did the honors first with my ring because my woman didn’t play by the old regulation rules.

  Kissing the back of my hand as no woman had ever done before, she settled the wide band on my ring finger until what had always been lonely and heavy in me lifted and soared.

  This was the first time I’d seen the ring—wide, titanium-black, thick—but I knew what the inscription said on the inside: In love, and biscuits, and forever.

  Mine for her said simply: For my Tilly girl, with everything I am.

  Mine and mine alone.

  The rings were exchanged while hot tears pricked my eyes and several slipped from Tilly’s . . . then the kiss.

  Thank God, the kiss.

  A deep, swift, heated meeting of our parted lips. Seeking and finding until we broke apart, both breathless and grinning like crazy.

  The joy was unmasked, contagious, better than any adrenaline rush. I pulled Tilly up into my arms as the minister said some last words. But I drowned him out with a whoop-holler, swinging Tilly around off her feet—barefeet—and nearly knocking the flower out of her hair.

  Music began, pouring out from where I did not have a clue. I’d discovered Tilly was much more adept at wedding planning while I’d found out arranging all the endless details for a marriage was nothing like organizing a mission with ammo and terrorists and tangos to worry about.

  This was better. Way goddamn better.

  The music pumped up, and we were descended upon by a swarm of freakin’ locusts, i.e., wedding guests. Through hugs and congrats and backslaps and wolf whistles, I was dragged in one direction—losing Tilly’s hand—while she was hauled in another.

  Where’s the joy, fuckers?

  ****

  The reception began immediately afterward. I didn’t even get another chance to lay my lips on Tilly’s before the hours’ long party started.

  See now? If I’d been in charge of the planning there’d be none of this schmoozing and boozing bullshit because I was way too impatient to get into the mingling thing.

  I wanted to be alone with Tilly.

  Private. Intimate.

  Very, very alone.

  She and I met up in the middle of the party on the beach only to be towed away from each other again. We were monopolized by people who meant well, but who had no idea I hadn’t had sex with her for forty-eight hours and I was more than ready to exercise my marital rights. Right there on the beach if I had to.

  I gritted my teeth into some semblance of a smile whenever my attention was forced away from Tilly. I nodded politely, digging my hands into my pockets. I tried to tune into the questions I was asked, standing taller to search the crowd for my woman. I only relaxed when I saw her, and she’d glance at me with the same longing described on her delicate face that glowed brighter than the sunset bathing the oceanside resort. The only real smile I had was reserved for her.

  My wife.

  Couldn’t believe it.

  Then there were my parents to visit with, Ambassador Lawless to parlay with at least for a few minutes, and my team who seemed to have no problem partying it up. I thanked Blaize for coming, hoping for bonus points, and left her to chat with the ’rents.

  They only knew I worked in a highly classified military role for the government. Blaize definitely wouldn’t mention anything she wasn’t supposed to—she was a fucking vault where T-Zone was concerned. And the dudes understood what it was like to keep this big a secret, so I didn’t have to worry about them. I had to assume Baby Spy wasn’t stupid enough to mention crap to anyone, but she wasn’t much for socializing anyway. She just looked pissed off and sullen.

  I couldn’t figure out why Bane was constantly hovering around her, though. Questions better left unasked, I reckoned. I had a honeymoon to fantasize about—one that should’ve started goddamn hours ago—and I didn’t want to get embroiled in any T-Zone bureaucratic bullshit . . .

  I shrugged. Not my problem. This was my wedding day.

  Meanwhile, Storm held up one corner of the seafront pavilion. His dark blue gaze arrested on Blaize no matter where she moved through the crowd. He held a glass of amber alcohol, but he drank absently from it.

  Which reminded me I’d never found out why Blaize had wanted to talk to him alone that day in DC. Bearing that in mind, I generated enough interest to engage Walker in a little T-Z gossip.

  “You drunk yet, Mr. Been-Ball-and-Chained?” he asked when I strode up.

  “Sober as a fucking monk.”

  “Fucking monk.” He laughed. “Oxymoron.”

  “I ain’t a moron.”

  “You went to prep school, don’t tell me ya don’t know what that means.”

  “I’m just messing with you.” I knuckled him on the forehead, hoping he wouldn’t retaliate with a blade. It was my wedding day after all. “But you’re an idiot, you know that?”

  “Sure, sure. Whatever.” He grabbed two glasses of champagne, handed me one, pinged them together, and said, “Congrats, Jus.”

  “Thanks.” I downed the bubbly liquid in one swallow.

  “Happy?”

  “Will be. As soon as everyone clears the fuck out.”

  “Impatient?”

  “Understatement.” Just then I heard Tilly’s laugh, and my head swung around as if locked on a target.

  Her head was thrown back, and the laugh warbled again.
Of all the damn things, she was talking to Bane and giggling at something he’d said.

  I frowned. “What do you think he said to her?”

  “Probably something about the pitiful size of your dick.”

  “She already knows about that.”

  “How small it is?” Walker chuckled.

  I punched his arm. “Don’t be a douche. She knows how big it is.” I refrained—barely—from cupping my crotch to demonstrate.

  Marriage day and manners and all that.

  “Listen,” Walker lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I got some boom-boom flash-bang. Want I should blow something up? Create a diversion? Scatter the wedding guests?”

  I stroked my chin. “Tempting.” I scanned the people who were just gearing up for dancing and more food and drinks and who knew what else. “But maybe let’s not break out the weaponry tonight.”

  “Just trying to be a good best man.”

  “You’re a screw fucking loose in the head. But you’re the best.”

  He hugged me with a one-armed reach while chugging the rest of his champagne. “Thanks.”

  Twisted motherfucker.

  I set my empty glass beside his. “Hey, what was it Blaize wanted with Storm that day?”

  “New mission.”

  “Just him?” I asked.

  “Him and her.”

  “She’s going out in the field?”

  “Yup.” He laughed long and loud. “And you can bet your Heckler he’s gonna have the biggest case of blue balls in known history by the time it’s all over.”

  We were interrupted by calls for the bouquet toss.

  Tilly turned up with a sweep of that naughty-innocent gown. She hurried over, tucked a hand behind my neck, and tugged me down for a kiss.

  Wild sensation ricocheted through me.

  Before I could drag her closer, she danced away.

  “She’s gonna be the death of me tonight if we don’t get this reception over with soon.” I groaned.

  Jade slid up beside Walker and drew him into a kiss that left him cross-eyed. When she had him panting and all grabby-hands, she slipped from his embrace.

  “Get back here,” he demanded.

  “When have you ever known me to follow orders?” Her swanky British accent at odds with her sleek Asian looks and her wildly streaked hair.

  “The other night, at the ranch,” Walker shot back with a challenging grin.

  Jade’s face glowed, but she didn’t hustle back to Walker’s side. “Can’t stay. That bouquet is mine.”

  She only stopped long enough to remove her fancy hat and sail it toward Walker before she joined the eager-to-marry fray.

  “I suddenly know what you mean about Tilly being the death of you,” Walker grumbled, shifting his weight in a very obvious manner.

  “Women,” I muttered.

  “Women.” He agreed.

  We watched the foreign sight shaping up in front of us—both of us wearing frowns on our faces. A multitude of brightly colored chicks gathered in loose lines behind Tilly who stood facing away. She held the bouquet up in the air. Bright stars had begun to burst forth in the dark sky above, shining and shimmering just like my woman who was my sole center of attention.

  “Me! Me! Me!” Jade shouted, bouncing up and down.

  “Damn. Looks like she’s going for it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, lounging back.

  Walker stood up straighter.

  I hoped to hell no one got in Jade’s way. There’d been no bloodshed so far, but this was Jade from the Special War Ministry we were talking about. The woman could kick ass and slip into any deadly situation undetected . . . the one who made Walker smile at her like she was a goddamn goddess without the dark side we all possessed . . .

  Looked like Walker’s question about popping the question was answered.

  He watched avidly—amusement tugging his lips—as the countdown began and Jade crouched into fighting stance.

  “She’s not gonna hurt anyone, is she?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “You never know. But we got Bane on hand to patch them up if she does.”

  Great.

  With a shout, Tilly swung her arm up and back.

  I winced, expecting Jade to break out some jujitsu moves to pull a grab and dash.

  Walker leaned forward like a stallion about to break down a stall to get to its mare.

  Jade jumped up, caught the flowers, and spun with a victorious smile aimed at Walker.

  No one was harmed during the bouquet toss, and Jade was the indisputable winner.

  She strolled up with a loose-hipped gait, clutching the flowers to her chest, and Walker took her in his arms.

  “Feel better, mahasani?” he asked.

  “Uh huh.” She linked her hands behind his neck.

  “So does this mean you’ll marry me now, stubborn wench?”

  “Yes, you pillock!” Jade rained kisses on his face along with the laughing verbal abuse.

  “Pillock?” He pulled back. “That’s a new one.”

  “Dolt, knob-head, daft idiot.” She held him by two hands clasped to his shoulders, beaming. “I love you.”

  “So I call you the other half of my soul, and you basically tell me I’m a wanker? How does that work?” He scowled.

  She laughed, coiling around him with a lingering kiss. “Because I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

  “Works for me.” He dipped her over his arm, taking charge of the kiss.

  So that was that.

  Tilly came over to congratulate Walker and Jade, and claim me. “I believe it’s time for our dance.

  And I was so happy to be claimed by her.

  Music began. Talking from our gathered friends stalled and stopped when I escorted Tilly with an arm around her waist to the center of the ringed group.

  “Hello, Mrs. Chase.” I circled her in my arms.

  “Hello, husband.” She glided against me.

  The joy was back, both a pounding pleasure and peaceful essence. We danced with the rhythm of the music, intent only on one another. Heat gathered between us, building, escalating, but now we had time.

  I had Tilly.

  My embrace tightened.

  The world outside disappeared.

  She was elegant and graceful, and her face curved against my neck and shoulder.

  “You once said smooth talking wouldn’t get me anywhere, what about smooth moves?” I swirled her into a lingering dip, placing a longing kiss on her arched throat.

  Her gurgling laughter tinkled like fresh rainwater when I guided her back to me.

  Her hands stretched up beneath my jacket, learning muscle and warm flesh, and the heat of two bodies too full of love.

  “Ah already know you’ve got smooth moves.”

  “Want me to demonstrate some more?”

  “Please do.”

  When the song ended, we stood before those gathered, melded from thighs to hips to chests, creasing a gown and a suit we were both waiting to remove so we could touch skin to skin, flesh to flesh, hard to soft.

  Our kiss was hungry, promising, palpitating between us.

  Applause drew us apart.

  Tilly blushed.

  I bowed to her.

  We shared more dances, each one more enticing than the last. Night had fully curtained the shoreline. Bright torches lit the edge of the water, and candles shimmered inside hurricane lanterns.

  Half an hour later, when one of Tilly’s friends announced it was time for the garter toss I’d been waiting for all night long, I almost went down on one knee in thanks.

  Someone produced a chair.

  I guided Tilly to it.

  Her hands lit on my shoulders.

  Mine cruised under the skirt of her gown.

  Tilly’s breath came deeper. She licked her lips softly.

  My cock hardened in a desperate curve as I felt her silky skin all the way to her thighs. I leaned forward, kissing her.

  Folds of creamy material covered m
e from wrists to elbows, and no one could see my wandering hands when I went higher than strictly necessary.

  Warmth beckoned. And wetness. Just one finger, against the outside of her panties, straight up the center.

  I blew a hot breath out against her lips, and my eyes drifted down. I wanted to see what I touched.

  “Justice, darlin’, you know my dad’s watching.”

  She wasn’t unaffected. Moisture gathered on my finger.

  “Don’t care. He gave me his approval. And I’ve been waiting for two days to touch you. He’s lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already and carried you out of here.”

  She caressed the side of my face and brushed a knuckle over my lips.

  I stroked her one more time, watching her eyes droop, before sliding the frilly garter from her thigh.

  Brandishing it in one hand, I drew it across my nose—her scent invading my mind—then slingshot it behind me.

  Storm surfaced from the crowd just in time to catch it before it splatted him in the face.

  He held the lace thing between his fingers . . . and smiled wolfishly . . . and tucked it into his pocket.

  Opening Tilly’s knees wider, I moved closer between them. “Please, babe. Let’s get out of here. I need you. Needed you all day. Want to be alone.”

  Our escape was clean, and I only half heard the raucous comments from my T-Zone contingent about newlywed sex.

  Tilly and I walked along the beach, holding hands. Impatience driven back, like the tideline. Moments too important to waste.

  Tilly waiting with a small smile while I took off my shoes and socks.

  We waded into the surf, a white foamy froth tickling our ankles.

  Tilly tipped up a sand dollar with her toe and bent to pick it up.

  “A lucky omen.” She held the perfect circle to me.

  “Is it?” I inspected her face instead of the seashell.

  Her laugh floated out to sea. “’Course it is!”

  She twirled, arms open wide, splashing her gown and my pants, and laughing, laughing.

  Tilly reclaiming my hand.

  The moonlight shivering over her . . .

  “Swim with me in the morning,” I asked.

  Her head dipped. “Of course I will.”

  I picked her up in my arms when we came adjacent to the whitewashed house we’d rented. She shimmied closer, kissing my neck. Trudging across the deep sand still warm from the day, I carried my wife toward our new beginning.