Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2)

by Suzanne Halliday

  Alex bawled with laughter. “Oh, my god, you poor dumb fuck! Uncle shmuncle shithead. That’s her father, man. Show some fucking respect and be prepared to sweat balls. My dad’s not stupid. He knows what giving his baby away to an old pervert like you means.”

  “Gag on my cock, Alex.”

  Meghan snickered. So did Angie.

  Glancing at his fiancée . . . holy fuck! He had a fiancée. Anyway, when he looked at her, she smiled and twinkled her fingers.

  Great. Twinkle fingers. Muttering darkly, Parker left the room, fishing his iPhone out of his pocket. When he shut the door of Alex’s study behind him and pressed the call button, he had to center himself as some uncharacteristic nerves assailed him.

  The call was answered almost immediately.

  “Hi, Uncle Cris. Parker here. Have you got a moment, sir? There’s something I need to discuss with you . . .”

  Meghan shot Alex a scathing look when she sat down at the breakfast table after going to the fridge for some milk. As her knees bent, she became achingly aware of her sore bottom and the reason why.

  Last night, he’d told her to be naked and bent over the bed, waiting for him when he came back from talking to Parker. She hadn’t complied, of course. Feeling flirtatious and wantonly frisky, the minute he left the room, she’d shot from the bed and run into the wardrobe, pulling open drawers in a hurried search for something specific.

  When she hurried back to the bed a minute later, she was completely covered, neck to toe by a baggy old Boston PD sweatshirt and pair of sloppy sweatpants. And underneath that? The ugliest, most unsexy sports bra she had and a pair of granny panties that had seen better days.

  The expression on his face when he came back, fully expecting her naked ass to be on display, was nothing short of priceless. Chasing her around their room while she shrieked with laughter, Meghan gave him a decent challenge, not surrendering until he’d finally cornered her in the wardrobe and she’d had nowhere else to run.

  She’d wanted to throttle him though when he grabbed the neckline of the frayed sweatshirt and dramatically ripped that shit in two with one mighty pull.

  “Hey!” she yelled. “You can’t do that.” Bah! His fierce leer told her that he could do any damn thing he wanted. Swoon.

  “Next time, do as you’re told.”

  She wanted to answer, Make me, but this was working out pretty well so far so Meghan just pouted. He was doing fine!

  “You’re fucking joking,” he snarled when the unsexy, gray sports bra came into view. “Take that off.” His horrified expression told her what he thought of her underwear.

  This time, she did simper, “Make me,” and got exactly the reaction she hoped for. Was her bottom still a warm pink? Probably. But fuck . . . had it ever been worth it!

  Pouring the milk onto her cereal, she jumped with surprise when he leaned close and chuckled wickedly. “Bet that smarts, huh?”

  Scathing look with the flash of a smile—take two.

  “Be a good girl and Daddy will rub your tushy with lotion later.”

  Oh no, he didn’t! Settling back heavily in her seat, she crossed her arms and sniggered. “Five points to the ledger of Major Marquez.”

  Alex roared with laughter, earning them an amused glance from Angie.

  She was surprised when he changed subjects, babbling about the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day get-together she was planning.

  “So, I checked with Cam and he’s all hooked up and set to go with streaming video of the Boston Parade. Ten o’clock our time so he’ll record and we’ll watch the playback before dinner. Okay?”

  Of course, it was okay. Meghan couldn’t believe all the effort Alex was making to celebrate her Irish heritage. It was sweet as a mountain of chocolate and just as decadently satisfying. He really would do anything for her.

  “Can’t wait,” she assured him. “Ria’s been face chatting nonstop with Ma. Cooking lessons from the old sod.”

  “So I’ll finally get some of that brisket you go on and on about?”

  “Indeed,” she drawled.

  “What’s the matter? Something’s not right. I can hear it in your voice.”

  Damn, he was good. Evasion was not an option. He’d drive her mental until she shared. Shrugging nonchalantly, Meghan swept her hair aside and spoke quietly. Carmen was still bustling in and out and she didn’t want her to hear and get her feelings hurt.

  “It’s nothing . . . I’m just not used to having other people take over. Ria had a shit attack when I said I wanted to cook. Made me feel like I’d just stabbed her with a fork.”

  He took one of her hands and squeezed it reassuringly. “It’s just her way. She sees taking care of all of us, and especially you, as some sacred vow to the memory of our ancestors.”

  Awww. Meghan liked that he included her in that sentiment—calling them our ancestors.

  “You’re a Valleja-Marquez bride, my wild, Irish goddess. It’s her privilege to take care of your every whim.”

  “I know. And she’s over the moon planning and organizing everything with Carmen. We’ll start here, of course. Maybe watch the parade playback on the big screen and hang out on the patio. Early dinner and then head down to the Camerons—take over the theater room for my favorite movie.”

  “And then, the next day . . .”

  Meghan lit up with happiness. Yeah. The next day. She couldn’t wait.

  “Well? Did he say it was okay?”

  “He wants to talk to you,” Parker told her gravely, handing over his phone.

  Eeek! Really? Hours ago during a pre-dawn bathroom run, Angie had seen when she glanced at her phone that her mom had left a message, Call me. So she had. Seemed her mother’s quirky extra sense had picked up an energy flutter as she called it and she wanted to know if her baby Angel was all right.

  She’d confessed it all. Aldo. The madcap airport run. Parker. Alex. Her mom had laughed with glee. When she hilariously shrieked, “Oh, my god! I’m going to be the mother of the bride!” they’d dissolved into happy tears and giggles. Her mom was the best.

  And then she’d smirked—Angie could hear it in her voice—and asked her not to tell Daddy that they’d talked. She’d jumped the gun and called when she should have let him have his Father of the Angel moment. It was a husband and wife thing, she explained. Telling his wife of forty years that he’d given their blessing for a daughter’s marriage was one of those moments she couldn’t deny him. It was so sweet and loving, she’d teared up.

  Taking the phone carefully, as though it was either dangerous or ridiculously expensive, Angie cleared her throat, then chirped happily, “Hi, Daddy!”

  Their part of the conversation was brief, direct, and to the point. No fucking around with Cristián Valleja-Marquez. Not when it came to his family.

  “So . . .” he stated rather drily. “Tell me little one, are you really in love with this man?”

  This man? Sheesh. Alex hadn’t been kidding. Her father’s gruff tone referring to his godson was chilly. Daddy first. Uncle and godfather a distant second. She got serious in a hurry.

  “Yes.” Her answer was definitive and forceful. “Yes, Daddy, I do.”

  “Do you want to marry him, Angelina? And do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah, I do. He’ll take good care of me, Dad. Please say it’s okay.”

  “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

  “It is.”

  He sighed. Angie wondered if this was hard for him. She’d never thought about how her dad would feel about being supplanted in her heart by another man and wondered if Meghan’s father had similar feelings.

  “Your mom and I love you and just want you to be happy.”

  She nodded, not that he knew that from a phone call, but words weren’t possible while her throat was thick with emotion.

  “Hand the phone back to Parker, sweetie.”

  “Okay,” she croaked as snot began seeping and tears burned in her eyes. Giving Parker the phone back, sh
e wiped the back of her hand back and forth across her top lip. “Here.”

  Everything after that was half a blur. She heard him mutter a few words, say, “Thank you, sir,” then a brief silence before Alex and Meghan along with Carmen and a just arrived Ben started screaming enthusiastically—rushing at them as shouts of ‘congratulations’ filled the air.

  She would have liked a hug from her official fiancé. Maybe a kiss, too—but they get swept up in every else’s enthusiasm.

  What a glorious day!

  STANDING IN THE SHOWER, ALEX reviewed a thousand small details that needed his attention. He was amazed at how much thought and planning had gone into the special day he had in store for his lady love. Hell. It seemed like there were as many factors to consider, if not more, than what he’d dealt with putting together mission plans during the war.

  It wouldn’t have been possible to pretend nothing was going on so, on the one hand, Meghan was well aware of and in on planning the St. Patty’s Day celebration with Carmen and Ria. What she didn’t realize though was that Family Justice also had some surprises in store.

  And as if that wasn’t enough, their secret plan for tomorrow was giving him nightmares. Again—she didn’t even know the half of it.

  The agency plane was going to be busy over the next few days and he had a few last-minute requests that only his personal pilot could help with, so making a mental note to have a talk with Captain Sawyer later, he startled when his lovely Meghan appeared out of thin air, alongside him in the shower. If her expression gave anything away, it was that she was in her Irish fuck goddess mood.

  Flattening his big body against the tile wall warmed from the steaming shower, she rather aggressively grabbed hold of him. Thank god she was a natural athlete because she left her patience at the door, demanding he take her with a desperation he had to answer. Their shower gymnastics were so frenzied, he supposed at the end of it all he should thank Christ they hadn’t ended up in the emergency room.

  She was wiped out afterward so he tucked her back into their bed, kissed her forehead, and left her to a short nap. Closing the door quietly, he then sprinted to his tech cave where he could bring up his checklist on the computer, see what still needed handling, and get the ball rolling.

  “You’re glowing,” Meghan teased Angie. She was, too. It was great seeing her looking so blissfully happy.

  “It’s the nonstop sex,” her soon-to-be sister-in-law stated with a completely serious face. “Good for the skin.”

  Tori burst out laughing. “Well, if that’s true, this whole place is a walking skincare ad!”

  Even Betty chuckled although she made sure to punctuate her merriment with a motherly tsk or two.

  “At first, I thought it was something in the water,” Angie continued in that completely serious tone. “But apparently, I was wrong. It’s not the water.”

  “What is it, then,” Lacey asked.

  Meghan couldn’t help but laugh. Lacey was so adorably clueless sometimes.

  “It’s all that testosterone and shit like that! Did you know sperm have a five-day shelf-life?”

  Meghan, in fact, did know that. Being a health and phys ed teacher had its advantages. Shrieks of laughter and shouts of, “Ewww, gross!” and, “Alrighty then,” filled the air.

  Lacey blushed several shades of red and murmured, “Good to know.”

  Oh, really? She and Tori exchanged a look.

  “Raise your hand if you’re trying to get pregnant,” Tori quipped.

  Angie shrugged.

  Carmen and Ria tsked.

  Betty snarked, “Gals, that ship has done passed.”

  Tori shoved her hands under her legs and sat on them with a chuckle.

  Meghan glanced at Lacey, who was worrying the crap out of bottom lip with her teeth.

  Feeling giddy, she pretended to raise her hand into the air with an invisible crank which was met with cheers and laughter from the women present. Finally, Lacey giggled shyly and ducked her head but her hand went up. Bravo, Mrs. Cameron!

  They were all gathered on the patio which looked like a mischievous leprechaun threw up everywhere. There was so much green happening, it resembled the damn tropics. Green balloons tied together in huge bouquets weighed down by miniature pots of gold were spread around. Green four-leaf clover decorations were all over the place. Everyone had gone all out to make her day Irish special.

  Cam brought a rolling big screen from the business center and put it in a corner of the patio, replaying the colorful St. Patty’s Day parade from her hometown. There was more in the way of snack foods and munchies laying around than was necessary.

  Meghan got a huge kick out of watching Parker and Angie tossing Irish Potatoes candies into each other’s mouth from ever increasing distances. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that until Betty produced the container of homemade confections, she’d never seen one before in her life. Definitely not a Boston thing or even an authentic Irish tradition.

  But the definitive high point of the day? All of the men, including both babies, were outfitted in kilts and Doc Martens. Some of the kilts were camouflage, others were plain. Not a tartan in sight. The women hooted and hollered when the guys burst onto the patio singing a horrendously off-key rendition of O’ Danny Boy, bare-chested wearing only the kilts. Seeing Drae and Cam carrying their sons was just the sweetest thing ever.

  And Alex, her Major—he of the manly chest and buns of steel? Oh, dear god. He looked so damn hot strutting around dressed like that. She intended to blow a bit of sunshine up his skirt later.

  Oh, and good lord! Draegyn had made her the most amazing wooden chest, this huge thing that Alex placed at the foot of their bed. Her ma had a hope chest that was a veritable treasure chest stuffed with family memories. Knowing she and Alex would fill the beautiful trunk with the memories they would create touched her deeply.

  Everyone had the best time and most of Family Justice was there except for Brody. And Calder. Meghan missed both men. And Stephanie, too. She couldn’t help but think of the wedding in Boston when they all be together again.

  After an early dinner, the entire group decided to stroll instead of drive down the lane to the Cameron’s for more fun and a showing of an Ireland themed movie that was a favorite in the O’Brien household.

  What a funny group they made. A bunch of serious alpha men, dressed in kilts, a couple of babies in strollers, two rambunctious dogs, and a gaggle of chatty women—laughing, joking, Frisbee throwing—holding hands and telling tall tales as they walked along.

  The best damn support team anywhere—Carmen, Gus, Ria, Ben, and Betty—saw them off with a round of hearty congratulations for Angie and Parker plus a flurry of hugs and kisses for everyone else.

  Meghan was so happy she couldn’t contain all the joy.

  “Yeah, okay,” Cameron quipped in that dry but terribly witty way he had. “That movie’s a keeper, Red. Thanks for sharing!”

  Tori yelled from across the theater room as she bundled Daniel into his stroller. “Who knew John Wayne was so damn hot? Was he like the first alpha or something?”

  Parker enjoyed the easy way this group of unique but very different people connected with each other. It was refreshing, the bone-deep loyalty and caring that came naturally to all of them. Maybe it was true what they said about people of like interests and temperaments being inextricably drawn together.

  Feeling close to Alex was one thing—they’d known each other since forever. But he had the same sense of absolute trust with Cameron and Draegyn. Sometimes, he wondered if he hadn’t met the other two men in another time when death and terror were part of every day if they’d have such an instant connection.

  He’d been with them when they were warriors . . . serious, sometimes scary, and always badass shitkickers who knew crap, saw stuff and did things that could haunt a man until his dying day. Parker respected each of them enormously.

  Draegyn came over to him and shook his hand for the tenth time. Several fucki
ng cases of Guinness, spread over an entire afternoon and evening, had a way of catching up with even the most adept beer drinker.

  “That girl’s a fucking handful,” Drae teased looking at Angie. “You sure you’re not too old for that shit?”

  Motherfucker. At some point everyone, even Betty, goddammit, had something to say about their age difference. Why they all found it so hilarious was beyond him. Was it because Angie had been handing him his ass from the moment she arrived? No doubt.

  “Yeah, well, she was mine first, a long time ago and maybe waiting around for her to no longer be actual motherfucking jailbait—that was the Guinness talking—was what the universe had in mind all along.”

  “Counselor,” Draegyn smirked. “You fucking dog. Did you just admit what I think you did?”

  Um . . . huh? What? Hmmm. Oh, shit. Yeah. Maybe he had.

  “Fuck you, St. John. You’ve had it the easiest so maybe shut your damn mouth.”

  “You’ve met my wife, right?” Drae chuckled. “If that’s what you call easiest . . . you’re insane, dude.”

  Parker fake punched him in the gut. “I’m referring to you guys eloping. No months-long planning. None of that hearts and flowers shit. If you don’t see how easy that was, you’re the one who’s insane.”

  Angie’s small hand slid up his arm and pulled lightly on his earlobe. “Don’t give Draegyn a hard time, sweetie. It’s not easy being Studly Do-Her-Right.”

  Next, Victoria joined in the teasing fun. “Did you just refer to my husband with a sexual term?”

  “That I did,” Angie assured her seriously. “We’ve all seen those gossip rag stories about him, you know.”

  Drae growled hilariously, winking on an aside to Parker. “The only her this stud is doing right is standing right here.”

  Angie smacked Parker in the center of his bare chest. “Why can’t you say romantic things like that?”

  Eh . . . er . . . what?

  “Oh, my god. Quick!” Drae chortled. “Someone get a shot of his face!”