Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “This is that place from the framed picture in the den, huh?”

  Angie noticed that Meghan colored slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. A lot of history.”

  It was too hard not to laugh so she did. It hadn’t taken long in Alex and Meghan’s company to understand that the happily engaged couple pretty much banged morning, noon, and night.

  Grinning stupidly, she pithily asked, “Is there any place you two haven’t done it?”

  Meghan didn’t bother pretending not to understand what she was implying.

  “Well, your room for one,” she answered smugly. “And, apparently, we’ve missed a couple of feet in the family room.”

  Their raucous laughter filled the desert air.

  “Mmmm hmmm,” Angie chuckled. “Draegyn specifically told me not to wander into any room with an unlocked door. Something about traumatic visions and going blind. Or limp. One of the two.”

  Meghan’s head whipped around and even through the dark shades she wore, Angie could see her shocked expression.

  “That asshole!” she gasped. “Why in the world would he tell you that?”

  “I suppose because the story is funny as shit, Red.”

  “Oh, dear lord,” Meghan groaned. “He told you? What the fucking fuck?” she shrieked with a choked laugh. “Is nothing private with these Justice men?”

  Angie snickered quietly as Meghan drove along muttering darkly about paybacks and men with big mouths.

  Taking pity on the other woman’s discomfiture, she changed the subject. “So what’s up with the Cameron’s? They’ve both been off the radar since Las Vegas. What gives?”

  “Hmph,” Meghan uttered huskily. “Dunno. Something’s up, though. The Major is saying nothing, but I’m not blind. He and Drae are sending smoke signals with their eyes.”

  “Have you tried to get it out of him?”

  Laughing as though what she’d asked was the funniest goddamn question ever, Meghan looked over at her with an eye roll.

  “Oh, darlin’,” she drawled comically. “That’s not how this shit works.”

  “Do tell,” Angie quipped with a short laugh.

  “Take notes, sis. This is how you handle a Justice alpha.”

  “Knowing about these so-called control issues you say my brother suffers from, I cannot wait to hear your next words of wisdom, oh wise one!”

  “Okay, well, first of all . . . alphas like to think they’re in charge.”

  Once again, they both cracked the fuck up hooting with laughter.

  “Yeah, I got that,” Angie agreed with a snorting grin. “Did I tell you that at the fondue restaurant, Parker didn’t even let me glance at the damn menu? Honestly! There’s in charge and then there’s overcharge.”

  Meghan roared. “Overcharge! That’s a good one.”

  “Whatever,” Angie groused. “Pissed me off, actually. I kept thinking . . . who died and made him king?”

  “Get used to it,” Meghan wisecracked. “I’m thinking since Parker basically showed Alex the ropes as they were growing up, all that bad-boy fuckery your brother does so well had to start somewhere, and I blame Parker Sullivan.”

  Wow. She really thought about that comment long and hard. Great observation on Red’s part. A small shiver of excitement skated along her nerves. She’d have to be a mindless idiot not to have noticed the relationship dance Meghan did with her brother. He was and always had been what she and Soph called the top dog. With just one look, he had the gravitas to cower both his younger sisters. And while Meghan most certainly did not cower, she did pay extra attention to his alpha tendencies—something that Angie viewed as brilliant.

  “Lesson one. Never but never assume that you can manipulate a dominant male. It can’t be done.”

  Angie made a face and groaned. “Great.”

  Laughing, Meghan kept on. “But that doesn’t mean he has the upper hand. Far from it. Just by admitting that you can’t manipulate him, you’ve already won.”

  “Missing the point, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s simple, really. If he knows you’ve already thrown in the towel on trying to get the upper hand, he’ll be easier to handle. Mostly, I just wait Alex out. Sometimes,” she giggled, “I know he’s dying for me to ask about something, and I say nothing. Eventually, he’ll spill the beans because he has to!”

  “I would have thought with how close you two are, that if something was going on with Lacey and Cam, he’d share it with you.”

  “Oh, he will,” Meghan assured her, “when he’s ready. The bond between Draegyn, Cam, and the Major is a force of nature. They’re hardwired into each other. Whatever it is, the Justice men are handling it and that’s enough for me, right now.”

  “Aren’t you worried, though? About Lacey?”

  Something appeared off in the distance, making Angie sit up and take notice. She could just barely make out Alex’s old truck parked in a spot surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery she’d ever seen.

  “Of course, I’m concerned, but Cameron worships Lacey. He’d never let anything happen to her. She’s in excellent hands and I trust him, and Alex and Drae, to keep her safe.”

  “Will she be okay with singing at Pete’s this weekend?”

  Meghan didn’t answer right away. Obviously, she was worried about the state of affairs down at the cabin.

  As the buggy bumped along, getting closer and closer to this special spot, she got a clearer view of the setup. Eventually, a wide distinctive pergola took shape with a curved top that gave it an oddly Asian flair.

  “Oh my,” she muttered.

  “Just wait,” Red sniggered with a half-laugh. “Sedona has its vortexes and Villa de Valleja-Marquez does, too.”

  Angie shivered from head to toe. An energy vortex. Damn, she loved that kind of shit. Was sort of why she felt so drawn to this locale. She grew up thinking people who were skeptical of such things were really missing out. She friggin’ lived for that feeling—out in nature and swept away by a beneficial source of energy.

  All of a sudden, she was that eleven-year-old girl again—adventuring on her own out into the desert and stumbling upon such a spot. The very idea that this place they were headed to was infused with the energy of her ancestors made Angie giddy.

  As the pergola came into better view the closer they got, her eager eyes took in a thousand little details since this was definitely something she wanted to remember later.

  Cataloging every little thing that hit her eyes, she was startled when Meghan informed her, “Parker seems to be here as well.”

  “What?”

  “Mmmm hmmm,” Meghan drawled. “He’s kind of hard to miss. The guitar is a nice touch though, don’t you think?” she simpered mockingly.

  Oh, for the love of all that’s holy, Angie groaned inwardly. Really?

  She hadn’t noticed him at first because he was standing against one of the massive wood posts supporting the wide arched top of the structure so he kind of blended in.

  “Fuck my horny life,” she muttered under her breath, earning a loud giggle-snort from her companion.

  Did he have to look so hot? Goddammit.

  Casually leaning, he had one foot up to mid-calf on the post behind him and a guitar in his hands looking every bit the rebel rocker sporting rumpled looking hair, a pair of dark Ray-Bans, and flashing a toothy grin at them as they approached.

  They pulled up next to Alex’s truck and switched off the ignition. Half a second later, Angie jumped when she heard Meghan squeal as Alex came out of nowhere and hauled her from the cart.

  “About time,” he barked in that funny He-Man way her brother excelled at. “We’re starving. What did Ria send?” Alex the barbarian inquired as he started pawing through the enormous cooler packed with all sorts of goodies for their afternoon delight.

  “Brought that asshole with me,” he grumbled jokingly. “Hey! Dumbass. Come lend a hand.” He hollered at Parker who sauntered toward them, stopping to drop his guitar onto a bench.


  “Thank god you’ve arrived, ladies,” he drawled. Making a clownish face, he whooped it up and pointed at Alex. “He’s worse than a three-year-old being told no in a candy store when he’s hungry. How do you put up with his shit, Irish?”

  Meghan stepped up and let Parker throw his arm around her shoulders while she wrapped one of hers around his waist. They both stood there with sad expressions as they considered poor Alex.

  “I’ve got him on a feeding schedule,” Meghan teased. “No! I shit you not,” she insisted when Parker broke out with a laugh. “Seriously. It’s the only way to manage him! He’s like Dylan. Or Daniel. Or hell, all of you boys,” Meghan jested as she turned and socked Parker on the arm. “Don’t try and pretend you don’t tie the feed bag on every couple of hours,” she taunted.

  Alex snickered, held up a roast beef slider, and said, “Word,” then went back to stuffing his face. Angie had to laugh. These people were a living, breathing comedy act. Their dynamic was something to see. She wondered where she fit in.

  Parker chuckled and turned all of his attention to Angie. She could feel his sexy x-ray vision through the dark glasses covering his eyes. His lip curled. She liked to think of it as his Elvis move.

  “Don’t suppose you brought an instrument with you?” he asked.

  Now . . . why the hell did it seem like everything he said made her sizzle? He was asking if she had a guitar. He knew she played. It was a normal question seeing as how he had his. But it was the way he asked and the suggestive emphasis on the word instrument that rendered her half-a-moron.

  Meghan heard the inquiry and jumped in.

  “Oh, that’s right. You told us you could play. Guitar, right?”

  “She plays beautifully,” Parker declared with a warmth that surprised her.

  Alex walked past them carrying the enormous cooler by himself and sneered at Parker as he went by. “I thought you were here to be helpful, dude. Not drool like a twelve-year-old over my sister.”

  As if on cue, Meghan dissolved into giggles as Parker opened and closed his mouth like he might say something but no sound ever came out.

  “C’mon,” Meghan said as she twined her arm around Angie’s. “Let me show you around. We call this place Amor Vórtice. Our very own power place.”

  The minute Meghan led her into the shade of the pergola, Angie was in heaven. Oh, my god. This was amazing!

  A big circular area, quite large in fact, had been laid with muted earth tone pavers that bore the shadow created by the lattice worked over the arched top of the pergola. Small wind chimes hung at opposite ends of the structure from the top of the vertical posts. Two heavy wood benches were at one end and a couple of Adirondack style chairs and a small table sat nearby.

  Next to a large storage chest was a pile of brick and stone that Meghan told her was there for the hearth they wanted to add. It was a unique, in-the-middle-of-nowhere oasis.

  “The chairs are new,” Red chimed happily as Alex plopped down in one.

  “Yep. Lugged ’em out here in the truck. And Tori sent along some chick thing. A couple of hand-blown hanging candleholders. Very cool. They’re boxed in bubble wrap and in the truck bed.”

  “This is amazing,” Angie murmured. And it was. Big enough to handle at least a dozen people comfortably, the space was blooming with potential.

  “Place needs a grill,” Parker declared rather decisively.

  Angie ducked her head and smiled. Meat and fire? Yep. Seemed about right.

  They dragged the benches and rearranged what furniture they had until everyone was comfortable. Settled, an hour flew by as the four of them lounged, ate, drank a little bit, laughed, teased, and told stories.

  It was, as far as Angie was concerned, a little slice of Southwest heaven.

  After a bit, while she and Meghan cleared away their trash and secured the leftovers, the guys sat across from each other on the big benches and started doing what was essentially a form of dueling banjos. So competitive, these two! she thought. Just as it had always been

  She sighed, looked with loving eyes on her brother, and sighed again. By putting so much distance between them, she’d deprived Alex of this. The three of them hanging out; only now, the numbers weren’t so lopsided with Meghan along. Now it really was boy-girl, boy-girl.

  Enjoying their bawdy repartee—something that would never get old—she sprawled in one of the chairs and quite simply, drank it all in. The beautiful setting, the clear blue sky overhead, the distinctive red-hued rock formations, all second to the two men who had settled into a strikingly beautiful acoustic version of an old Bon Jovi standard.

  Meghan slid a chair next to hers and gave Angie a knowing look before she settled in for a listen.

  As if the two guitars weren’t enough to fill the air with rich and vibrant sounds, when Alex and Parker started singing, they harmonized effortlessly, just like they’d been doing for decades and the result was staggering.

  She felt unusually honored to witness the two powerful men, completely relaxed and in sync with each other and the music they were making. The moment felt magical.

  They sang about cowboys and being wanted, and without glancing her way, Meghan’s hand shot out with the neck of her beer bottle tilted in Angie’s direction.

  Indeed.

  Responding by firmly clinking their two bottles, Angie and Meghan drank deeply and sat back as they enjoyed the desert alpha show.

  “THEY’RE SO FUCKING CUTE I can barely stand to be around them,” Angie joked when Alex and Meghan wandered away hand-in-hand for a short walk.

  Parker watched his friend and Irish cling to each other as they strolled beyond a cluster of shrubs next to the big wood structure that Drae had magically built. They really were cute, those two. He’d never seen his old friend happier. Shit. He didn’t even realize Alex could actually be that happy. If that dumb fuck could get his happily ever after, maybe there was still hope for him as well.

  Eyeing Angie as she watched the couple with a sweetly wistful expression, he tried to control his crazy hope that one day soon he and his beautiful Spanish Angel could be like that, too.

  She sighed and turned away, leaving them to their private moment. “Red’s one in a zillion, huh?”

  He snickered and nudged her playfully. “Puts up with his tired-ass shit so yeah, she’s something.”

  “I’m serious, Parker,” she mumbled. “You know what I’m talking about. I mean, you saw my brother a hell of a lot more than I have these past couple of years. He’s been so . . . empty. It was awful.”

  She was right, and he shouldn’t make light of what she was trying to get across. He’d been freaking out for years—even well after Justice had been firmly established and started churning and burning some serious bucks—because, despite the success and the stability afforded by the business he built, Alex remained but a shadow of his former self for much longer than just while he was convalescing from his injuries. That damn war had nearly sucked his soul dry.

  Meghan coming to the Villa had changed everything. Angie was so right. One in a zillion.

  “It’s this place,” she added solemnly with a half-shrug. “It changes people, or it brings out their best . . . best qualities, best hopes, best efforts.”

  She smirked shyly and dipped her head just as he spied a rosy blush creeping up her neck.

  “Sorry. Sometimes my hippy dippy side takes over! Blame my mother.”

  Aunt Ashleigh. Parker grinned broadly. The woman was a force of nature and he loved her to death. She was always the first one to crack everyone up with an inappropriate comment or observation while her husband rolled his eyes in long-suffering mock-horror. Angie was so much like her mother. A free spirit in every sense of the word—such a far cry from Sophia, who got more from the sober and serious side of the family DNA.

  Leaning in, he jostled her with his shoulder. “I blame your mother for a lot of things—that sorry piece of shit you call a brother, for one—but the charming way you put things is all
you, Angel. And your mom would be proud.”

  More shy blushes. So unexpected. He didn’t remember her being so . . . something. Not shy so much as shocked. Yeah. That was it. She was shocked.

  “It’s weird.”

  He looked at her with a questioning gaze. Weird? Shit. There wasn’t anything about this that wasn’t weird.

  “Not being afraid to be around you. That’s what’s weird. I almost don’t know how to act.”

  Her quietly spoken admission started a brawl inside him.

  The sensible guy, the one who drove a sports car and had a kickass career, tried to listen and think supportive thoughts.

  While the man with the cock ‘n’ balls swagger wanted to pin her to the spot and show her exactly how he wanted her to act.

  Talk about a dilemma.

  “I’ve missed you in my life, Angelina,” he told her gently.

  He was getting so many different signals that were all jumbled and messy. She searched his face. Dammit. He could see it in her eyes—she still didn’t trust him. Or herself.

  Careful not to cross a line because dragging her ass to third base at the club hadn’t worked out so well, they were dancing around one another trying overly hard to be friendly, polite, and leave the drama behind.

  Shit. Parker was actually a little afraid of what might happen the next time he touched her if he didn’t get control.

  Okay, he thought. Maybe this will help ease some of her fears. Remind Angie that they already have a place in each other’s life.

  “My folks are asking when you’re coming round for dinner. Mom’s dying to talk about the wedding. Something about choosing a dress color.” He chuckled with a mystified shake of his head.

  He hadn’t expected her to gasp or reach and grab his arm. Her reaction revealed so much. She knew damn well what would happen two seconds after they had dinner with his folks. The fucking phone lines between Arizona and Spain were going to be on fire.

  Wait a minute, wait a minute. That might be a good thing, Parker considered as he patted her hand reassuringly. If his mom got it into her head that he and Angie had a chance, she’d move heaven and Earth, with Ashleigh Marquez egging her on the entire time, to get them together. Hmmm.