Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2)

by Suzanne Halliday

  Gritting his teeth, Parker dropped the rest of the tale and waited for Alex’s reaction.

  “It was early days and we were figuring it out when some prick in my department started giving me shit about hanging out with a hot piece of coed ass. There was no fucking way I was going to let that dickhead think shit like that about Angie. Seriously, man,” he sneered, “didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone said about me but going after her? Uh-uh. A step too far.”

  “Fucking gossips,” Alex muttered.

  “Exactly. So I jumped in without thinking about what I was saying and pointed out to the bastard that the girl in question was family with a Special Forces brother off killing bad guys. To drive home my point that he was a dick who should be ashamed of himself, I made light of her age, said watching out for her was a pain in the ass. You know. Dumb shit.”

  “Unless it was a videotaped deposition, I don’t see where this is going.”

  “No video necessary. Unfortunately, Angie overheard my part of the conversation. Just my part. Before I could explain, she cut me off without a word and until she showed up here, I hadn’t spoken directly to her since. I figured she was mad as hell and rightfully so. Turns out I was wrong on that, too. She wasn’t mad. She was hurt. It took me a long time, too long, to see that.”

  He let Alex digest what he’d said then brought the story forward into the present day.

  “I’ve apologized. Explained. She’s calmer and you see we’re trying, right?”

  “I thought you two seemed pretty chill earlier and said so to Meghan. That’s how our conversation turned to you. She remembered you saying our Colorado trip was a summer of firsts. She asked. The rest you know.”

  “Angie texted when they went to the cabin. She’s agreed to go to dinner with my folks.”

  Alex looked surprised. “For real? Aunt Wendy’s on the ball, huh? Wonder if my mom has anything to do with that.”

  “And, um, I sort of got her to agree to have dinner with me. Tonight. Just the two of us. So when they get here, we’ll get out of your way as soon as we can. Give you and Meghan some privacy.”

  Alex looked halfway impressed. “She agreed to go out with you? Like on a date?”

  Parker knew he hadn’t given her any choice whatsoever and couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Actually, the girl makes me so crazy that I asked her in a way that made it impossible for her to say no.”

  Alex clapped his hands together and bawled, “Snap out of it, you fucking idiot. There’s your goddamn problem right there. You still think of her as a kid. Wake up and drink the sherry, my friend. That’s no little girl and if you think playing her like she’s a toothy, braces-wearing twelve-year-old is going to get you anywhere, you need your head examined.”

  MEGHAN STAYED SILENT ON THE ride up to the big house. What a bizarre day it had been. The musical morning picnic she thought would be so much fun turned into a shit show. Lacey was in the middle of an emotional meltdown, and Tori suddenly had in-law problems where five minutes ago there had been none.

  “When we get home, I have to go get changed. Parker is taking me to dinner. That way you and Alex can be alone without an audience.”

  “Oh,” she murmured. “Dinner? That’s nice. Whose idea was that?”

  “His,” Angie answered. “He thinks he didn’t give me a choice.” She had to laugh.

  “Ah,” Meghan chuckled. “The alpha way of inviting a woman to dinner.” She grunted comically and said in caveman style, “Woman. Eat. Now.”

  They each laughed and shook their heads.

  “Sadly, it was something exactly like that. Joke’s on him, though. You’re right, Red. Time to give that man a taste of the real me. Not the little girl he remembers.”

  “I like that plan. It has great merit.”

  They drove on a bit and she asked, “Have you got something to wear that will melt his eyeballs?”

  “I’ll figure that part out when I shower.”

  “Want me to work him over for you while you get ready? Maybe scare the shit out of him a little? “

  Angie laughed sarcastically and teased, “Oh, you mean like accusing him of being a pervert because he asked for your panties?”

  “Sure,” she answered enthusiastically. “It always pays to keep a man thinking. I can tell him you’re designing the launch campaign for the latest must-have sex toy that’s all the rage in Europe. Custom-made floggers maybe?”

  Floggers?” Angie shrieked hysterically laughing. “Red. You’re killing me!”

  “Just trying to bring the giggles. Lighten things up.”

  “Hey,” Angie said gently. “Don’t worry about Alex. I know my brother. He’s probably curled up in the fetal position and sucking his thumb because you’re upset.”

  “I know and I feel bad. He caught me off guard. I’ll talk to him, don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”

  Boy, she really hoped it was that easy. Lately, she’d begun to put some stock into all that eyeball rolling about wedding jitters and crazy bride antics. Meghan was inwardly cringing because she felt all she did was careen from one emotional freak-out to another. There was too damn much noise in her head.

  She was barely sleeping—the same for eating. A bottle of Zantac had taken up residence in her purse and not even the calm serenity of her normal yoga practice brought her much peace. And poor Alex. She was really doing a number on him. The man was dancing as fast as he could trying to stay out ahead of her craziness. Dammit, Meghan sighed. She really needed to find her center again because this shit wasn’t working for her at all.

  “Parker’s here,” she muttered absently after leaving the buggy for Ben to take to the garage and weaving through the usual clusterfuck in the driveway. “Oh, right. I guess he’s waiting for you, huh?”

  “Listen,” Angie said in a jumbled rush. “As soon as we’re inside, I’m running upstairs, okay? Don’t wanna see him just yet. Have a plan. Knock him sideways. Show him what’s what.”

  Meghan grinned. Ah, the dance of love. Wasn’t all that long ago that it was her and Alex driving everyone batshit with their push-me, pull-me routine. She hadn’t seen Angie in action yet, but she was so much like the Major that all she could do was bite back the hysterical laugh that threatened to erupt each time she imagined the ass-handing Parker was about to experience.

  “No worries,” she assured her. “I’ll entertain the men while you put your battle plan into action.”

  She could hear the smile in Angie’s voice when she mumbled, “Stupid fucker,” as they approached the front door to the Villa.

  “Indeed,” Meghan snickered gleefully as she pushed the wooden masterpiece open.

  They playfully fist bumped and did this hilarious boob shimmy that Tori had them all mimicking where you bend forward, give the girls a good shaky-shake—she insisted this sets the boobs comfortably inside your bra—and then stand up straight and arch your back. “Ta-dah!” they cried then giggled and said, “Shh, shh, shh,” to each other a dozen times.

  Meghan pushed Angie up the stairs with a shooing motion and then took a deep breath. Smoothing her usual riot of curls, an action that usually did nothing because her hair rather insisted on itself, she pressed a hand against her tummy to stop the nervous flutters and metaphorically put her big girl panties on.

  Go find your man, her inner voice demanded. Do not pass Go and do not collect two hundred dollars. Get moving!

  She found them finally. Coming from behind, they didn’t realize her presence right away, giving her a rare opportunity to catch the two alphas in repose. Had Alex’s admission about the threesome with Parker been a shock? Of course. But over the course of the day, she’d been connecting the dots and thinking about the close, long-standing friendship between the two men.

  Understanding the Major’s relationship and bond with Cam and Drae was easy. All that soldiering stuff had a way of forging intense bonds. But Parker had been a harder read from the start. All the men were dynamic in their own way,
but there was something different about the camaraderie between the old friends. Because Parker was the older and most probably when they were kids every inch the big dog, she had to wonder. Had he been the influence to shape Alex’s unique, um . . . needs? All signs were starting to point to yes.

  While Meghan hated labels, she couldn’t ignore the simple fact that Parker Sullivan personified the capital D in dominant and gave it a kick in the ass. She sure hoped Angie knew what she was doing ‘cause right now? Right this second? Before they realized she was right there? Meghan could feel the intensity rolling off both men, and yeah, most of it was sexual. Neither of these men was for the faint-hearted.

  She saw Alex’s head raise and knew he felt her presence. Meghan shivered slightly. He was in beast mode—waiting for her to come to him, as he knew she would.

  Not pausing even a heartbeat, she immediately crossed the room. Leaning over the back of his chair, she said, “Hi,,” then put her hand on his shoulder and swung sideways to his front for a quick kiss.

  The minute she connected with Alex, Meghan felt his tension. Just as quickly, she felt it fade away when their lips briefly touched. With that one gesture, she let him know that they were all right. He reached up and patted the hand on his shoulder then slipped his fingers into hers. She left her hand where it was. Through that simple touch, they were communicating, and for now, it was enough.

  As soon as Parker realized she was present, he jumped to his feet and came to her with his hands held open like a conscience-stricken penitent about to beg for forgiveness.

  “Miss O’Brien,” he said soberly. “I swear that whatever he told you was nine-tenths bullshit.”

  She thought it wise not to say anything, preferring to defuse the anxiety her earlier outburst had caused by not adding any more fuel to the fire. And besides, she was curious where the good lawyer was going with his mea culpa.

  “First of all, this threesome? If it lasted ten minutes, I’d be amazed. I was fifteen. Fugly here,” he said, pointing at Alex, “was barely fourteen. And we were admittedly high-times baked and then some. The whole thing was nothing more than two teenage boys with hard-ons, swaggering around the woods like god’s gift to the world and a one-time encounter with Stifler’s mom. It was dark. We were, as I said, completely out of our minds. And in case he didn’t make this clear, I’m the one plowing the Mom, although at fifteen, plowing was a stretch. Poking maybe,” he shrugged, “while Robin to my Batman kept it together for less than five minutes once she started blowing him. Hardly a wild sexual escapade.”

  Well, I’ll be damned, Meghan thought. She had to give it to Parker. That was one hell of an example of what falling on the sword looked like. And the explanation? Award-winning because yes, she had immediately envisioned some raunchy bacchanal with naked women and all sorts of fuckery that upon reflection would not have been something two horny teenage boys could possibly pull off. She coughed back a snort of laughter knowing that the Two-Minute Man was a better description of what happened.

  Didn’t stop her from wanting to rattle both their alpha cages just for the hell of it, but right then, she needed Parker to wander away quietly so she could talk to Alex.

  Deliberately arching a single brow, she pithily drawled, “Stifler’s mom? That’s your story? Five minutes with Stifler’s mom?”

  The hand on Alex’s shoulder picked up the slight movement he made coughing back a chuckle. She guessed that until that moment, the expression Stifler’s mom had probably never been part of the story. Typical lawyer. Fast thinking on his feet.

  Sensing the storm had passed, Parker grinned that damn toothy smile of his and winked at her. “Debated between Mrs. Robinson, Stifler’s mom, and Dean Wormer’s wife, but some of those references were too obscure so, yeah, Stifler won by a knob.”

  Meghan rolled her eyes at the jesting innuendo.

  “We’re even now, counselor.” She chuckled. “I know you thought you were going to get me back for the panties joke, but . . .”

  Alex cut in tersely. “Excuse me?”

  Meghan squeezed her fiancé’s shoulder. “Oh, didn’t I tell you, darling? Parker wants a pair of my panties to play with.”

  Parker exploded, “Meghan! Shit!” He jumped into Alex’s line of vision and bellowed, “She’s fucking kidding, dude. I swear.”

  She was gently kneading Alex’s shoulder letting him know without having to read her expression that she was fucking with Parker.

  “Who’s your mama now?” she asked with a giggle.

  Seeing the lawyer’s stricken expression as his eyes swung from her to Alex and back again, she smirked sweetly and stuck her tongue out.

  “Oh, by the way . . . Angelina’s getting ready for your date.” Meghan made sure to put just the right amount of taunt into the last word.

  Alex pulled on her hand until she swung around and fell onto his lap. Cocooned in the big leather chair, feeling her man’s thick, muscular thighs under her ass, Meghan melted. Yep. Parker needed to run along now. She had other things on her mind.

  Drawling mockingly at his friend, Alex said, “I believe that was your cue to run along, counselor. Meghan and I need to talk and your presence is a sad reminder of what a dick you are.”

  Parker glared at Alex, which only made her smile.

  “Remember what I said earlier?” Alex asked. “About snapping out of it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go wash up, man, and get ready ‘cause I’m pretty fucking sure after an afternoon with the ladies of Family Justice filling her head with all sorts of ball-busting ways to make your life hell, my sister is about to clean your clock. Help yourself to our shower and it’s pretty obvious which sink is mine. Use whatever you need.”

  “Wow. Did Mom and Dad just send me to bed without dinner and tell me to take a bath first?”

  Meghan smiled sweetly. “No. Mom and Dad just told you to get your shit together because there’s an angel about to come crashing from the heavens right at your dumbass, and if you don’t catch her, I will personally rip your face off.”

  “I like that,” Alex told her with a grin.

  She looked at him and laughed. “I know, right? It works somehow.” She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “When we karaoke Saturday night, we go on as Boots, Ass, and Sass featuring Desert Angel. Shhhh. Don’t tell!”

  Alex laughed and shook his head. “Pinky swear.”

  Parker looked a bit bemused at their playful teasing. Maybe he was expecting them to read him the riot act? Threaten to dust Angie for fingerprints later?

  My god, she thought. He really doesn’t know! How fucking funny was this? Parker Sullivan was just like the rest of the clueless males of his species. Somehow the stupid fuck had missed the memo about Angie adoring his ass. Pfft. Some big bad dominant he was!

  “All right, all right,” he grumbled. “Once the whispering, secrets, and pinky swears start, it’s time to give you two some privacy. Thanks for the shower and a chance to change. Can I grab a shirt, too? I have a feeling flannel and sun sweat aren’t going to quite fit the bill tonight.”

  “In his side of the wardrobe, top drawer, left side you’ll find clean stuff. And take your pick on shirts,” Meghan added. “May I suggest something . . . dark.”

  Parker looked confused. “Dark? What does that mean?”

  She snickered. Men. Who taught them to dress?

  “See those black jeans and boots you have on? Well, a dark gray button-down or even matching black shirt will do nicely. And don’t shave.” She chuckled. “Bitches like that badass rebel look.”

  Alex’s bark of laughter at her mention of bitches forced a laugh from her throat, too. She knew it was one of his favorite mocking expressions.

  “Come on!” she yelped. “I’m trying to be serious here!”

  “I’m sorry, my bad,” he drawled. Turning back to Parker, he all but forced him from the room. “You. Upstairs. Shower. Now. And close the fucking door on your way out.”

  Meghan laughed as
Parker saluted them with a leer and moonwalked his way from the room, calling out as he closed the door, “Okay. The door is shut and the clock is ticking.”

  “Suck my dick,” Alex yelled.

  “Maybe later,” Parker laughed in response and then they were alone.

  HAD SHE EVER SHOWERED THAT quickly before, Angie wondered. Probably not. She had a long-standing love affair with her modest tile shower in the gatehouse she shared with Sophie back in Spain. Some of her best thinking and planning took place as water streamed down on her.

  But this wasn’t the time to dally. She had a mission to complete. Operation Esquire was underway and she had every intention of staking a claim, starting tonight.

  Rifling through the closet, she studied every outfit, every possible combination of clothing, and made some snap decisions. Quickly grabbing stuff off hangers, she tossed the outfit she decided on toward the bed and headed back to the bathroom to fix her hair.

  Some twenty minutes later, as she stood in front of a full-length mirror, she knew her choice was spot on. The sophisticated looking woman staring back from the mirror was a far cry from the teenager in blue jeans he had stuck in his memory.

  As only a woman could—and she knew that was a horrendously sexist remark, but there you have it—Angie scrutinized absolutely everything, deciding if this was what she wanted to do because there was no doubt about it. She was making a bold statement with her appearance. Once she issued this in-your-face challenge, she just knew that she was taking a huge chance by unleashing a force she’d been unprepared to deal with before. She had to be certain she could this time around before she let the door peek open.

  “Couple of deep cleansing breaths,” she muttered quietly as she rolled the tension from her shoulders, wiggled her fingers, and blew lungsful of air in and out.

  “Okay.” Focusing on her reflection, she sighed and started at the top.

  While Alex and Soph had gotten their mother’s coloring, which stretched from the middle of the road to California blonde, she had taken after her father’s side of the family tree.