Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Read online

  “C’mon, Angel,” he chided. “Tell me you weren’t thinking about hiding from them because of . . . well, because of me. My dad loves you. Calls you his Desert Angel.”

  He’d certainly seen some shit and some stuff in his day but seeing Angelina Marquez melt right in front of his eyes was huge.

  “Really?” she squeaked, her voice brimming with emotion. “He calls me that?”

  Parker slung an arm around her neck and pulled her in for a friendly hug. “Yeah. He does. Stealing my best shit, too.”

  She looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “I wanted to be the only one calling you Angel,” he admitted with a self-conscious snicker. “But lately, I’ve noticed the name falling out of everyone’s mouth. Even my dad.”

  She laughed and pushed against him, stepping out of his half embrace. “I know, right? Here I thought that was some super cool private thing between you and me . . . and now? That’s what the girls call me in their little karaoke dojo. Shit!” she hooted. “I’m thinking about having a t-shirt printed with Desert Angel across my boobs.”

  Do not look at her boobs. No matter what you do, man—do NOT look at her boobs. Oh, shit. Can’t be helped. Angie’s boobs were fucking magnificent with or without a t-shirt.

  Like right now, they were perfection. A nice, big round handful. And the nipples on those perfect tits? Damn. Also perfect. His teeth ached for a chance to nibble on the naked globes.

  He cleared his throat and moved around a little, trying to bring some relief to the hard-on threatening to destroy his vascular system. Was it possible to think clearly when all the blood in your brain detours to your cock?

  “Um, so back to dinner at the Sullivan’s. What do you want me to tell Mom?”

  She paused and let go of a little sigh. “Will we be going together?”

  For once, Parker fervently hoped that was a loaded question. He wanted there to be a lot of togethers from here on out.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  He held back a smirk. She wanted so badly to say something. He didn’t know what, but frustration was written all over her face.

  A few strands of her hair moved as a slight breeze blew by and the chimes on the pergola tinkled sweetly. Brushing the wayward strands away from the face staring so intently at him, Parker twirled the dark curl in his fingers and marveled at how soft her hair was.

  Brain farts, when they occurred, tended to either send everyone to the floor with laughter, die a slow, painful, silent death, or shake things up.

  Half-consciously, he lifted the smooth, glossy curl to his face and inhaled. She made a soft, sweet sounding gasp that he ignored—he was too busy taking in the delicate scent that was so Angie.

  “How do you do that?” he asked, giving her back her body space. “Get your hair to smell like that all the time?”

  She gently laughed. “It’s called shampoo.”

  “Don’t shake your head at me like I’m a dolt,” he sniggered. “The shampoo smell lasts about twenty minutes tops after a shower and you know it!”

  Parker arched an eyebrow and smirked into her smiling face.

  “It’s you. Your smell. Nobody smells like you, baby girl.”

  Yeah—the smell brain fart shook things up.

  Her eyes flared. Next to her sexy-as-fuck lips, or her badass tits, or that please-spank-me ass . . . or, well . . . what was he driveling on about? The throb in his groin scattered his thought process. Oh yeah, right. Her eyes. Or was it her smell? Shit.

  Anyway, her eyes were a treasure map that he could stare at and try to decipher until the end of fucking time. They changed color. Sapphire with the emphasis on fire, or sometimes a dusky blue–warm and peaceful. He’d seen them flash violet too, and when they did, holy shit, cover your balls and run for cover.

  But what he saw was more like the shifting blues of the ocean on a moonlit night. They were both trying so hard to stabilize their friendship. As if that wasn’t enough, there were these little telltale heartbeats of intense attraction that kept happening. She looked hungry and cautious at the same time.

  “I, um . . .” She gulped and shook her head slightly like she was bringing some sense into the discussion because he was pretty damn sure they had just been about two seconds from jumping on each other. “Can I get back to you about dinner? Ask Aunt Wendy what works for them and we’ll go from there, okay?”

  Parker was about to answer when he heard Meghan shriek, and not in a happy way, “Are you fucking kidding me?” Uh-oh. Not good.

  He and Angie turned toward the sound at the same time. Irish was on fire; that much was pretty clear. Her body language suggested his old friend had stepped in it, and judging by the way Meghan’s head was wagging as she laid into him, he’d stepped into it pretty good.

  Angie mumbled, “Uhhhh,” and leaned into him seeking protection from the nuclear meltdown happening seventy feet away.

  Meghan began stomping angrily toward where the truck and cart were parked with Alex right behind her.

  “What is wrong with you? Why the hell would you tell me that? Are you insane?” she screamed, whirling on Alex without warning.

  Parker shuddered. Holy shit. The trifecta of hollered challenges that were every man’s worst nightmare. What the fuck had Alex done?

  Alex’s hands were hanging in the air in that whoa, slow down, remain calm gesture that Parker imagined was going over like kerosene on a bonfire. Jesus, dude! He groaned silently to his friend. Do not ever infer a woman should calm down.

  “Baby,” Alex chuckled. “Meghan, come on. Seriously. I thought you’d laugh. This is nothing, hon. We’re talking like what? More than twenty years ago.”

  “Oh! And what?” Meghan screeched. “There’s a time limit on being an asshole?”

  Her arms were waving all over the place, and Parker was pretty sure if there was anything laying around that she could throw, she would have.

  And then she did that Wonder Woman thing that shriveled a man’s balls. Jamming her hands on her hips, she adopted a fuck-with-me-at-your-own-peril stance, sucked in her gut, and thrust her boobs out front. Bombs away.

  “So, just the once then?” she barked sternly.

  No, no, no, he groaned silently. Wanting to jump in and holler “Objection! Leading the witness . . .” Parker tried to psychically prevent Alex from making things worse by answering the obvious gotcha in the question.

  “Baby, it’s not like it sounds . . .”

  “I’m a teacher, Major. And I can count. A threesome sounds like what it is. Do not try and change the subject.”

  Parker groaned and hung his head. Oh, dude. You dumb fuck. Please do not have told her . . .

  Angie stiffened when he reacted and looked up at him. “Parker Sullivan,” she growled softly. “Oh. My. GOD! What the fuck did you two do?”

  Shit. She knew him, and them, too well.

  “Fuck my life,” he gritted with a heavy sigh of resignation. Jumping into the verbal fray was what he did. Didn’t stop him from wanting to throttle Alex for opening his damn mouth.

  Parker had been worried this might come back to bite them in the ass—admittedly his fault for bringing it up in the first place—but he thought his friend would have at least half a brain cell operating and not spill his guts. Shit. Some stuff wasn’t meant for public consumption and generally the more embarrassing or salacious the secret, the more drama down the line; and this one deserved a Tony nomination for best performance by two horny teenage fucknuts.

  Whatever Alex was saying to talk his way out of the mess he’d made wasn’t working as evidenced by an angry huff coming from Irish a second before she turned her head. Immediately zeroing in on the woman at his side, she barked, “Angelina. We’re going. Leave these two perverts to reminisce about old times.”

  Ohhhh, fuuuuck.

  “Oooop, that’s my cue to ramble on,” she teased, turning toward him with a wicked smile on her face.

  That she was openly laughing told Parker
that she found her older brother’s dust-up with Meghan to be funny as hell. Laughing merrily, she whispered so only he would hear, “A threesome? Really? Is that how the big boys do it?”

  He scowled at her. Witch.

  Watching her hot ass sway with that sexy jiggle that might one day make him go blind, Parker growled quietly as she sashayed away from him. The afternoon had been going so well. They’d made actual headway and hadn’t ended up screaming at each other. He was going to throttle Alex for fucking things up.

  As Meghan and Angie zipped away in the electric buggy, Parker boomed with laughter at the comical expression of astonishment on his friend’s face.

  Seriously? Was the man daft? He’d obviously just foolishly admitted to his stressed out bride-to-be that he’d been a dirty dog and crossed ‘threesome’ off the bucket list.

  “Oh, man . . .” He coughed as laughter wracked him. “You’re going to pay for that, you dumb fuck.”

  Looking thunderstruck, Alex grumbled, “But she asked. I thought it was no big deal . . . was so long ago, y’know?”

  “And let me guess,” Parker drawled mockingly, “you figured you could tell her anything. Right?”

  The “Pffft” that answered his question said it all.

  Slapping Alex on the back, he chided him, “For a smart man, you are one dumb motherfucker. Telling her anything? Yeah. That works for the big stuff—the important stuff. Not past sexual exploits. Irish was right. Are you insane?”

  “Parker, come on! That shit’s funny no matter how you tell the story. We were high as fuck. That has to count for something.”

  He chuckled some more. Having been the Grade-A fool who spoke before thinking, he had a bit of an idea how Alex felt right now.

  “Major Marquez. Rocky Mountain High is not an explanation for what happened and you know it! Have some dignity, man! I was fifteen years old screwing some hot MILF while she sucked you off. Teenage benchmark! Don’t sully the memory with your apologies and crybaby bullshit,” he hooted.

  Now that got a laugh.

  Alex was almost doubled over when he said, “Shit! How did a dinner conversation about campfire cooking lead to me getting my balls ripped off?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied, “but, seriously, man. You’re fucking with my chi here. Every time I think I’m making progress with your sister, you come along and fuck things up.”

  “As if,” Alex answered snarkily.

  Fixing him with his cockiest courtroom sneer, he spelled it out. “Throwing me and Angie together without warning.”

  Alex smirked.

  “Requesting that fucking song at Pete’s knowing we’d react.”

  The smirk became a shrug.

  “Bringing the word threesome into the conversation. Smooth move, butthead.”

  “Okay, come on,” Alex replied with a heavy dose of grumpy. “Let’s load up the truck and get back. Looks like I’ve got some damage control to do.”

  BY THE TIME THEY WERE halfway back to the hacienda, Red seemed a little less steamed but not by much. Angie kind of understood why a conversation about a kinky escapade might ruffle the bride-to-be’s feathers. But for her? As used to Parker and Alex’s fuckery as she was, her first instinct had been to laugh.

  Peeking sideways at the stern-faced redhead navigating their cart along the sometimes bumpy trail, Angie bit back a giggle. Meghan was having an emotional Bridezilla moment that she was happy to witness. From day one of planning for the wedding, this particular bride had been oddly detached from the details. But seeing her rip into an astonished Alex was nothing short of pre-wedding hilarious.

  Angie might not understand Meghan’s nonchalant wedding approach, but she had no doubt about the underlying passion that drove her brother and his fiancée. If she had to freak out about something, the suggestion of a decades-old threesome was a good place to start.

  Instead of going back to the Villa, when they hit the main road, Meghan turned the cart and continued down the private lane toward the Cameron cabin. Looked like Red needed a distraction.

  “Wanna tell me about it?” she asked.

  There was a moment of silence before Meghan sighed. “Men are just so fucking. . . . aarrgghh!”

  She stopped the cart and turned to Angie with an exasperated growl.

  “I mean . . . shit! I’m not stupid! But seriously!”

  “He loves you,” Angie murmured—not knowing what else to say.

  “Oh, fuck. I know that,” Meghan snapped. “And it’s fine. Really. It’s not like I believed he was celibate until we met. Everyone has a past. But what the hell was he thinking by telling me that he and Parker doubled up on some slutty campfire mother? I can’t have that shit in my head! We’re getting married, for fuck’s sake.”

  Angie bit her lip to stop from laughing. Slutty campfire mother. Too funny for words.

  “You know, I have like zero experience with this stuff.”

  Really, Angie thought, completely amazed. Wow. She and Red had a lot in common.

  “Oh, my god.” Meghan yelped in obvious distress. Lowering her face into her heads, she groaned out loud. “You don’t think that’s something he’s into. Do you?”

  “Meghan,” she drawled. “Think about what you’re asking. I’m pretty sure my brother would kill anyone who touches you and I’m not being facetious.”

  Two worried green eyes stared back at her.

  “I’m sure there’s plenty of hair-raising debauchery that stretches back ages for those two. Actually, I guarantee it.” She shrugged with a half-smirk. “But those experiences are what formed who they became. Alex most definitely does not share. I mean, shit. Weren’t we just plotting to put his brand on you?” She laughed. “Property of an arrogant, possessive Marquez.”

  “I’m sorry,” Meghan mumbled. “You must think I’m crazy. Alex is your brother and all.”

  “Actually, Red,” she answered cautiously, “I don’t think you’re crazy at all. And, um . . . well,” she muttered, “I think I know what got your knickers in a twist.”

  It was funny how Meghan looked at her like she was completely crazy. Hell. She understood way more than poor Red had any notion of.

  Turning sideways in her seat, Angie whipped off her sunglasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You sometimes worry that your man has, uh . . . needs. Because his . . . um,” she fidgeted. “His appetite, I mean, his focus is so . . .”

  “Demanding?” Meghan whispered.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Good word.”

  They sat there surrounded by beautiful stillness.

  “We’re pretty much the same age, right?”

  Angie nodded.

  “Do you ever think that men like your brother . . . and Parker, well—they’re grown-ups, y’know? Those two are not boys.” She snickered.

  “I know where you’re going with this,” she was quick to assure Red. “Aldo was only three years my senior, but in many ways, I was the one who was oldest. In the end, he was easy to chew up and spit out.”

  Meghan snorted with laughter.

  “But Parker? Oh, my god. I’ve known him my whole life, and by the time I was old enough to really consider who he was, he already seemed like an adult. I’ve always felt like a kid around him. Always. And that’s probably why everything that happened was so overwhelming. There he was so big and powerful. All grown up as he headed for thirty and the sexiest man in D.C. And I was the dewy-eyed kid with a brain full of romantic rubbish. There wasn’t a single moment when I didn’t agonize over being out of my league with him. He knew everything . . . and I do mean everything,” she added sarcastically. “And I was so easily molded to his desires.” She shuddered remembering.

  “I get it,” Meghan drawled. “The Major took me by storm. Well, actually . . .” she blushed—causing Angie to do a double take, “I took him first.” She smirked as she dipped her head and looked away.

  Really? Well, high five, Red! Angie thought.

  “But I know what you mean about big an
d powerful and sorry because I know he’s your brother and all, but sexy as fuck. He just . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know . . . he like owns me in some way.”

  “And you worry that you won’t be enough?”

  She chuckled. “Shit, Angie. I went from thinking sex was all about pulling back the covers and turning out the lights to being tied up and spanked. This is a learning curve for me.”

  Hmmm. Red was voicing Angie’s hidden fears. She’d always wondered if when Parker had dissed her that day it had been because, with his voracious sexuality, he found her inexperience dull and boring. She and Red had a lot in common. Two simple girls and the domineering men who changed everything.

  “Thanks, Red.”

  “For what? Acting like a lunatic? Telling you that your brother has a kinky side?”

  She cracked up laughing.

  “Both those things, actually. Your moment of lunacy and confirming that Alex thinks he’s god in the bedroom, too.” She snickered playfully. “I needed to hear that. Helps me put my predicament with Parker and where my life is heading into perspective.”

  “What do you mean? How do you figure?”

  “Well, just now when I heard myself say that I’ve always felt like a kid around Parker, I realized that might be what’s confusing me. I’m not even going to try and pretend to be uninterested. I mean, the man makes me twitchy all over. But feeling awkward and like, ridiculously young because he’s so. . . . unf. Maybe it’s time to turn the tables a bit. Up the ante, as Tori would say.”

  “So, what you’re saying is . . . you’re actually serious about coming home. Permanently. But before you make that decision, you need to get the good counselor sorted out.”

  She chuckled and sat back in her seat. “I would say that about sums it up.”

  Meghan started up the cart and continued toward the cabin.

  “Tits and ass, senõrita. Works every time. Take it from one who knows.”

  Angie howled with laughter as Meghan started enthusiastically belting out the song of the same name from A Chorus Line.