Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 17

  “A mole?” Brody sounded incredulous.

  “No way,” Duke grunted.

  “Bisset,” Alex barked. “Secure the wreckage. No eyes, understand?”

  “Jace needs to be brought in,” she pointed out.

  “Duke. Take care of it.” Alex looked at her and stopped. “You and Finn are part of Cover-Net. Like his father will, he’ll figure it out. Let him in Remy but let me handle the details.”

  She nodded. Now didn’t seem like the time to say much of anything.

  “Whoever is behind this is having either a laugh or is setting us up for something much bigger.”

  “Maybe both,” Duke drawled.

  Alex’s anger was intimidating. She squeezed her crossed arms for comfort.

  “I have to go,” was all he said and then in an implied puff of forbidding black smoke, he was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Alex was so fucking mad that he could barely see straight. Some motherfucker or a bunch of motherfuckers were playing with him and he didn’t like it one bit. Stomping from the back of the garage, he put his head down, ignored everyone and everything, and helped himself to a beat up military jeep. Matching the jeep’s sounds to his inner turmoil, he was less than friendly with the gearshift and floored it from the motor pool.

  Bouncing over the terrain, he avoided the road and instead chewed up the earth with a daredevil dash toward the main house. His head was whirling with a million pieces of information.

  The one thought that kept coming round again and again was his suspicion that the things happening were items on a checklist. A checklist of things intended to distract and confuse.

  First there was that bullshit with Angie, which turned into nothing. He’d overreacted of course and gone to Defcon status. Even called in a favor from an Interpol contact. That was when he realized there was a better than good possibility he was being played.

  The Interpol contact bothered him. If Duke was right and he was being surveilled, then Alex had committed a huge blunder by playing such an obvious hand.

  Anger started eating away at his stomach.

  On the other hand, he thought, maybe the obvious hand was exactly what he needed for duck and cover. It made all sorts of sense to take a two-prong approach. Doing expected things kept the adversary distracted and gave him the chance to add a layer of covert without anyone noticing.

  Shit.

  He accelerated in his haste to get home.

  Fuck.

  Skidding to a stop in the back driveway, he climbed out of the jeep and stomped into the house.

  “Meghan?”

  Less than ten minutes after putting the twins down to nap, she heard him pull up. Meghan hurried toward the kitchen door and motioned to Carmen as she passed her in the living room.

  “I’ve got a monitor but will you keep an ear out for the babies?”

  Alex came crashing through the door, yelling for her before he was fully in the house. Carmen’s eyes went wide from his tone. She quickly nodded and made a shooing motion.

  Meghan hurried to her husband and noted his clenched jaw. He tore off his sunglasses, tossed them on the counter and turned his dark and dangerous gaze on her. She knew his expression and felt her mouth go bone dry with concern.

  Without hesitation, she took his hand and gave a little tug so he’d follow. She dragged him up the back stairs, aware the whole way that he was growling and probably planning ways to tame her ass.

  His thudding footsteps as she pulled him to their bedroom matched the heavy beat of her heart. For a brief second in the kitchen, she’d considered taking him to the studio and getting their kinky side on but changed her mind. She was working on plans for a naughty interlude in their private room and didn’t want to spoil it. That meant her next best option would be found in the privacy of their master suite—and wouldn’t necessarily involve sex.

  Her mind quickly planned what to do. First, she had to disconnect his anger switch. Reasoning that a lazier woman would simply suck some dick, Meghan took a different course. Her man was far too complex for such lack of effort.

  Marching through the dressing room into the bath, she had him stand outside the shower.

  “No talking,” she told him when he looked like he was about to speak.

  “But,” he grumbled unhappily.

  “Later,” she assured him. “Right now is about you.” Feathering her fingers across his forehead, she smiled and pushed his usual messy head of hair away from his beautiful eyes. “Take your shoes and socks off but I’ll do everything else.”

  Without waiting to check his reaction, she yanked on the shower door and set the controls to high. She wanted the huge stall to fill with steamy warmth.

  Because he was the Major and just couldn’t help himself, he found something to grumble about. “Where are the twins?”

  As she began to unbutton his shirt, she made a funny face and shrugged. “Oh, them? Pfft. Sold ‘em to some traveling gypsies.”

  His surprised bark of amused laughter told her she’d broken through whatever was upsetting him.

  A choir of giggling angels sang the hallelujah chorus when her husband’s deliciously manly chest was revealed. The first time she’d seen him without a shirt had been an awkward interlude in the hot tub shortly after she first showed up in Bendover. He’d been ogling her boobs while she struggled to keep her hands to herself. The man was big and solid with a wingspan that gave her a case of the lady swoons. Alex Marquez gave fresh meaning to the term, gun show. When he flexed his arms and made a muscle, it was all she could do not to giggle like a twit and instantly surrender her knickers.

  As usual, he was reading her thoughts. Either that, or the drool gave her away.

  “You’re easily distracted,” her manly beast growled.

  She grinned. “The struggle is real husband, now shh. I have to concentrate.”

  The she dropped the wadded up shirt and attacked his pants. Luckily his leather belt was old and didn’t put up much of a fight as she wrestled with it. Belts were her Kryptonite. She could flick the button on his jeans and do away with the zipper in far less time than it took her to fumble with a belt. Some recent wickedness helped illuminate Meghan’s belt issue. Turns out she had a thing for belts as restraints. Especially when wielded by an oversexed alpha.

  Gloriously naked, Alex smirked when she studied his erection. She laughed in his face and shoved him as best she could into the shower. “I want you in there for ten minutes. Understand?”

  He smirked some more, stroked his cock and waggled his brows. “Seriously? You’re going to walk away from this magnificent specimen?”

  In the snotty teacher voice she knew he got off on, she drawled, “Do as you're told, Major. Ten whole minutes. Then towel off and meet me in the bedroom.”

  “Should I bring anything?”

  He was incorrigible! Five minutes ago he was ready to do unspeakable things to assuage his anger. Now he was making jokes and trying to tempt her with his wickedness. Bring something? Gah! Why did her pussy have to tingle at the suggestion?

  “Settle down, big guy. No equipment needed. Get in the shower. Relax. Empty your thoughts. I’ll take care of the rest.

  Alex crossed his arms and stared at his dick as warm water poured down his back.

  “This isn’t helping,” he grumbled to his turgid flesh.

  Tempted to jerk off, the only thing stopping him was how mad Meghan got when he self-pleasured. He tried explaining it wasn’t so much pleasure as a biological need but she wasn’t having it. Apparently, draining the snake and deadly sperm back-up were not excuses she found amusing.

  Sticking his face into the water, he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. As usual, his wife knew what he needed before he did. It would take a calm head to figure out what was going on.

  Many Zen moments later—enough to hit the ten-minute mark—he stopped the shower and briskly toweled off. Strolling buck-naked into their bedroom he wasn’t surprised to find his wife dutifully
waiting for him—next to her massage table.

  “Face down.”

  Eagerness had him all but jumping onto the table. Meghan worked magic with her fingers. She was a natural empath—but only with him. When she touched him, an indescribable energy flowed between them. Even if he were capable of lying to her, she’d see through him with one touch.

  No question, the absolute last thing he ever expected once he had squirmed around and gotten into position was for his bad girl Irish wife to smack his ass. He did the spanking in their relationship!

  Chuckling at her audaciousness, he growled through the hole in the table for his face. “You get one. Try that again and see what happens.”

  The naughty wench bent and kissed the butt cheek she’d smacked. “There,” she purred. “Feel better? Now you can literally tell people I kiss your ass.”

  Once she started, it didn’t take long for him to melt into the table. She knew where tension gathered in his body and worked her sorcery until he experienced a shift. On a deep sigh, he relaxed and let his thoughts wander. Sometimes the best way to understand something was to give it space.

  He drifted until her soft voice called him back. “Turn over, nice and easy.”

  With a groan and a sigh, he flipped onto his back and got comfortable. Meghan gently grasped his ankles and pulled. The slight stretch felt incredible and he shuddered with physical enjoyment. Then, with her searching touch, she found a telltale knot in his thigh and smacked him.

  “Alex Marquez! Were you playing golf again? What have I told you about that?”

  He scoffed. “Only one round and it was Parker’s idea.”

  “Oh, great,” she teased. “Blame the expectant dad. Close your eyes and hold still.”

  She attacked the damn knot with a vengeance and made him regret hitting the links with his old friend. Dammit, but his wife was right. He loved playing but the game did not love him in return. His left side from the waist down was fucked up enough. The pretzel twist of a good tee off had the power to cripple him.

  “Can’t you ride horses instead?” Her wifely grumble was so cute.

  He gave serious thought to getting his cowboy groove on, but him and Parker wandering around the property on horses was a sure fire invitation for bad judgment. They’d been known to shoot up snakes for no good reason and on a few occasions had combined ice-cold beer, the scorching Arizona sun, and a lack of common sense.

  Nah. Horses and Parker were not a good idea.

  Option two queued up. “What do you think about racquetball? There’s a sports complex near his office where we can play. It’s just running and shit.”

  “You two take this competitive thing too far.”

  “Can’t help it,” he chuckled. “It’s in the DNA. Get used to it. D Squared are already at it—haven’t you noticed? Those two are going to raise some serious hell.”

  She leaned in for a swift kiss. “No more talking. Put your hands behind your head and hang on.”

  The familiar command signaled that she was about to tackle his hips. Before Meghan figured him out, his hips and back were angry all the time. He walked on a tilt and had a bad habit of being overly cautious of his injured side. The first time she worked on him he noticed an immediate change. He’d asked her what she did but she always said she didn’t know—just that when she touched him her hands moved on their own.

  Today, his body resisted at first and he grunted from discomfort. That’s when Meghan’s fingers moved to his face. She stroked and caressed until he was less tense.

  “Easy does it, baby,” she cooed. “Whatever it is, let it go.”

  Her words were his command. He pushed everything away except her and this moment. She moved down his torso and doubled down on his waist, hips and upper thighs. It felt like a valve opening when the tension gripping his muscles released.

  She finished by stroking his chest and arms while calmly bringing him back to full awareness with her loving words. When his eyes slowly opened her beautiful face was the first thing he saw.

  “Feel better?”

  He sat up and dangled his feet close to the floor. “Thank you.”

  “Get dressed and we’ll talk.”

  He smirked slightly and gestured at his cock. Her response was classic Irish bitch.

  “We agreed. No more happy endings.”

  Alex laughed. “I agreed to no such thing! No man in his right mind ever would.”

  “Alexander,” she snippily exclaimed. “Put some clothes on and behave.”

  He played along and did the grumpy, disappointed husband thing. “Oh, okay. Sheesh!”

  After quickly donning a pair of his favorite ratty sweats, he hurried back to the bedroom and flopped onto the bed like a rag doll. Smacking the mattress at his side he suggested she haul her sexy ass onto the bed and join him.

  She wisely sat cross-legged, out of his reach and met his smirk head on. They both knew if she’d cuddled close he’d be inside her in no time.

  “I have a lot to tell you,” she began, “but my stuff is all …whatever. Tell me why you came home so angry.”

  He never even hesitated. Most of his inner thoughts were no mystery so he knew telling her what happened today was just a matter of time.

  “We initiated Cover-Net.”

  She flinched. “My parents, too?”

  “Yes. I’ll take care of explaining things to your father.”

  “Maybe he can help,” she muttered.

  Alex nodded his agreement. “Yeah—I’ve been thinking the same thing. Remember me saying this felt personal?”

  Meghan nodded.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure now. And if it’s directed at me, chances are they’re staying one step ahead. Anticipating my moves.” He winced and shifted uncomfortably. “Already made a huge blunder. Interpol. Shouldn’t have involved them. It’s a red flag.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Nothing changes, honey. Act normal but keep your eyes open. I’m going to ask Paddy to check out a couple of things. He’s my hidden asset.”

  “So what happened?”

  He blew out a rough sigh and scraped a hand through his hair. “Brody took out a surveillance drone. In the fog of the situation , a bunch of clues were missed. First, it was out in the middle of nowhere. It drew him away from the compound.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Exactly,” he growled. “Remy stayed close. When they got to the wreckage site, he knew right away it wasn’t an ordinary drone. After he got a good look it blew up.”

  “It what?” Meghan gasped.

  “Blew up. Remote control self destruct.”

  “It was over the property?”

  “Yes.” He watched her face as he answered. Meghan was smart and put things together quickly. “There’s more.”

  She jeered and rolled her eyes. “Of course there is.”

  “The machine was Russian made and I’m pretty sure whoever is doing this imagines I’m going to fall for such a pitiful ruse. The Russians aren’t sloppy and they don’t make mistakes. Drawing Brody into the desert was deliberate. Just like making sure I knew the drone was Russian. Distractions.”

  “Alex,” she murmured.

  It was unlike Meghan to lip bite and seem uncertain so he gave her his full attention.

  “The twins. Are they safe?” He hated hearing fear in her voice. “And all the kids. My god. That’s almost a dozen people right there.”

  “You’ll have round the clock protection. Everyone will. It will be expected. If I didn’t add bodyguards it would look strange. Cover-Net is designed with extra layers. The easiest way to explain it is like this—your bodyguards will have bodyguards.”

  “I understand.”

  “Meghan,” he said. “I would never let anything happen to you or the kids.”

  Her answer sent a chill straight to his bones. “And whoever is doing this knows that.”

  What’s going on,” Heather quietly asked Brody when Bella wasn’t right on top of them. “And don
’t blow sunshine up my skirt, Jensen. I can tell when you’re preoccupied.”

  She’d be worried if not for the fact that as a couple they had been through so much but come out the other side in one piece. Their relationship was rock solid. Brody was a complex man and she was an adult who understood things would not always be easy. Her only concern at the moment was that he was putting off a weird vibe that wasn’t familiar. Something new was in the mix.

  “Hand me some plastic wrap,” he murmured. His hand shot out and he actually snapped his fingers.

  Ordinarily her comeback to his imperious tone would be slightly flip and oh, so snarky but she nipped the impulse in the bud and did what he asked. Her man wasn’t a dick on his worst day, which meant he was acting from stress. Or worry. Or both. Cutting him some slack was the shortest route to him divulging what was on his mind.

  Heather watched the ridiculously painstaking way he wrapped the platter of precisely constructed burgers. The plastic wrap was stretched tight to all the edges. So tight she was sure a dime would bounce off the surface. He was in hospital-corners mode—the expression she used to describe Brody’s military-infused, rigid behavior when everything had to be just so.

  Knock, knock!

  Who’s there?

  The past sliding by for a visit.

  Aargh.

  It took colossal effort to say and do nothing while he tore the refrigerator apart to accommodate the large platter. They were a family of three. Four if you count George. Eight gargantuan, perfectly molded grill ready hamburgers qualified for overkill.

  Jesus. She sighed and went to him. Time to find out what was going on. Gently touching his shoulder, she gave a reassuring squeeze and reached around him to shut the refrigerator.

  “We have at least an hour before it’ll be time to fire up the grill. Why don’t we have a cocktail, hmm?”

  Without waiting for a response, she steered with her hand on his shoulder and pushed him outside to the covered patio. August had sweltered but luckily the Jensen’s were the outdoorsy types. She flipped on the ceiling fans and turned the overhead mister to its softest setting.