Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 21

  Lacey tapped her fingernails on the table where she had some papers spread out. Without being asked, she kept notes, typed up minutes, and acted as the squad’s secretary. “Whoa. Let’s slow down and bring everyone onto the same page. Make sure we all have the same information. She’s living where?”

  Tori sighed. “Above Busty’s. In a dusty, mostly empty storeroom on the second floor. I took them some supplies. Female stuff. Becca almost cried. Her daughter is something else.”

  “And this daughter? She’s what? Twelve?” Lacey looked like she was doing mental calculations. “Seventh grade in the fall term. Middle school. Junior High. I’ll do some checking around about registration and districting.”

  “A warrant officer with military experience,” Stephanie muttered. “So far, so good, Heather.”

  “Lacey tapped right into what I think Becca needs. I’ve talked to her at length. She’s a hard worker, and if her husband hadn’t pussied out, she’d be in a different situation. Handouts are tough for her, but when push and shove meet, all she needs is some stability. A decent job and a place to live. She can take it from there.”

  “You know the Major will be on board. All you have to say is vet or needs a break, and he’s all over it.” Meghan’s comment was the icing. Nobody would object if Alex gave a thumbs-up.

  “Why discuss it?” Stephanie stated. “She sounds perfect. Bring her to the stable and let’s see what happens.”

  Heather did a mental happy dance. Yes! She knew Stephanie would get with the program. Becca was a proud woman who’d had to eat a ton of shit. She needed a chance, not a pity party. Now to attack the second part of the issue. A place to live.

  “Thoughts on someplace for Becca and her daughter to drop anchor? Close to town, I would think because of school and all,” she added by way of an explanation.

  Murmured conversations broke out as the ladies had a hushed discussion—hopefully about options. Heather’s gaze landed on a perturbed looking Domineau. All her walls went up after the mention of Molly D’Alessandro.

  One problem at a time, her rationale mind reminded. First, she had to get Becca Tate squared away. Then she’d circle around to Sophie’s situation. Thank god Angie wouldn’t need much supervision. After those two priorities were heading in the right direction, then she’d take a second look at Domineau’s unusual circumstances. Maybe she could help.

  It was Lacey’s sweet voice that rose above the growing din. Heather let her surprise show. She hadn’t expected Ponytail to weigh in so strongly.

  In the time it took for Lacey to utter less than a dozen words, Heather was sure Mrs. Cameron was either playing devil’s advocate, stirring a before now unseen pot, or just flat out being mischievous.

  “The solution is obvious,” Lacey began. “Anything the Villa has to offer is too far from town so scratch that. The only person living in a school district who doesn’t already have a house of people to deal with is Domineau.” Lacey smiled at the taciturn female. “You have an extra room, isn’t that right?”

  Tori snicker-coughed into her hand when Domineau shot out of her chair, stood, glared at Lacey and bellowed. “Excuse me, what?”

  From the farthest corner of her eye, Heather caught Sophie and Angie fist bumping.

  Kelly, damn her, was flat out giggling. She knew Domineau the best—if that was possible. “Pywakett would love the company!” she teased with a snark-infused chuckle.

  “Bite me,” Domineau growled.

  The tour-de-force, award-winning pantomime that the delightfully innocent Mrs. Lacey Cameron turned loose deserved a standing ovation for how quickly she shut Domineau down. It was impossible to argue with sweetness and light when it steamrolled right over you.

  “I don’t understand,” the blond ponytailed woman said with amusing confusion that Heather knew was 100% bullshit. “What’s the problem?” Lacey smiled innocently at Domineau and added some disingenuous batted eyelashes. “You’re never there. My husband says all you do is work. And hang out at Rafe’s. And I believe Heather has been hosting kid sleepovers on the regular. Isn’t that right, Kelly? So it isn’t like you’re home much.”

  The gotcha vibe in her open taunt reverberated around the room.

  “It could be fun, Domineau. Think about it. Like a girl’s dormitory only with purpose. You’d be helping a down on her luck vet and your cat would gain some roommates. To keep her company when you are occupied elsewhere.”

  Her delivery was so saccharin smooth and irrefutable that Heather didn’t hesitate to initiate a round of applause punctuated with the sound of muttered praises. A performance like that deserved all the oxygen it could get!

  Domineau knew she was cornered. With an ominous snarl, she crossed her arms, and one by one, she gave everyone some stink eye. “I didn’t think it was possible to hate anyone more than I hate those Justice shitheads, but this squad comes close. You know how uncool this is, right?”

  Remy snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth. It wasn’t enough to stop the bark of amusement that came next. Then she pointed at Domineau with one hand and pounded the table with the other as gales of laughter filled the air. “Josie and the Pussycats!”

  Domineau gasped and squinted with malevolence at her tormentor. “You bitch.”

  Remy jumped to her feet and tried to stop laughing. “I’m sorry but come on. This is funny as shit. And it’s what you get for the ginger jokes.”

  Meghan snickered. Heather realized a private moment was playing out and took quick steps to throw cold water on the snarling friends before a catfight broke out.

  “All right, all right. Simmer down. This is about helping Becca, not starting a flame-throwing war. Your issues have to wait for another time.”

  She gave Domineau a genuine smile and hoped it came off as encouraging. The lady was taking a public beating although Heather might be the only one who realized it. Offering a mini-solution, she refocused the group on the matter at hand and tried to throw Domineau an emotional flotation device.

  “We’ll all pitch in, Domineau. Truly, we will. You won’t be left holding the bag. Time is an issue—school starts soon. We don’t have the luxury of kicking this thing around.”

  Kelly spoke next. Heather detected subtle hints of worry and encouragement—in other words, total opposites. Nothing described Domineau Rivera better. The fact that she threw Matty into the mix, though, was completely unfair. It was like being offered a choice and then having the one person who mattered sit in judgment. Kelly James was a smart lady with a devious mind.

  “Matty will be relieved that Pywakett won’t be left alone so much. And don’t forget this—after we head east, he’ll be expecting regular video chats so you two can bitch about things. You can complain about your roommates, and he can whine about missing Bendover.”

  “Aw, fuck. Was that your only play? Huh? Using the damn kid against me?”

  Sophie, of all people, was watching this exchange with obvious interest. If there was shit to stir, Sophia Marquez got involved. She had a way with bubbling cauldrons and recipes for disaster, mayhem, and general foolishness. She was also Alex’s sister and wasn’t one to waste time with nonsense. What surprised Heather the most was that instead of dropping a grenade into the mix, she came with an actual idea. A good one.

  “Meghan, aren’t we doing a babysitter’s course at the Double M in September. That Red Cross thing.”

  Meghan looked up and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Loads of sign-ups. One of the scouting troops wants in as a way to earn a badge.”

  “Well shit, ladies. Maybe this woman’s kid can be helpful with some of our babysitting needs. She can help Mom by earning money.”

  Yep. That was the moment Heather felt she should speak up. “Uh, about the kid.”

  All eyes turned to stare at her.

  “In a nutshell, the daughter hates everyone. Her mom, dad, you, me, the weather.”

  Tori grumbled loud enough to get everyone’s heads nodding. “Yeah, well the kid got a raw deal. D
ad’s a dick, from what you’ve told us, and I’m pretty sure what every kid on the cusp of becoming a teenager wants is to be homeless.”

  All true. Sadly true. Heather continued her explanation. “The girl’s name is Kourtney. Goes by Kori. She blames Mom for everything, and Becca is so overwhelmed that she essentially takes it. The kid’s bad attitude will need an adjustment. You might want to hold off on grooming her to be the designated babysitter.”

  “I disagree,” Sophie interjected. “Catering to her behaviors won’t help anyone.” She lowered her voice fractionally. “And I would know.”

  Angie reached for her sister’s hand. “Soph is right. Sometimes it’s better to take a no shits given stance. Life is tough. Wah-wah. Best thing we can do is show her how to pull her knickers up and get on with it. Starting with some firm expectations. Good grades. Manners. And getting involved. None of that hiding under the covers crap.”

  When all was said and done, Heather had to give it up for the Justice Ladies Squad. They were as different from each other as could be and at times had lively debates about what was going on in the world, but one universal truth stood out. Maybe separately they were each damaged, dinged, and a little lost at times, but when they joined hands, anything was possible. And one thing they had in common was making sure they gave and got the best from each other and the people they influenced. It was one of the reasons she wanted so desperately to add to her and Brody’s family. Raising children around this crew of outstanding humans would be a gift from the heavens.

  Stephanie’s quiet twang joined in. “I’ve always felt that expectations, boundaries, and giving kids actual real-world activities make all the difference.”

  Meghan was studying Domineau as this sidebar unfolded. She sat forward and clasped her hands on the table. “Being twelve can be a difficult time.”

  The comment was directed at just one person. Their gazes connected. Heather watched with fascination as the two extraordinarily powerful women faced off.

  An unspoken conversation passed between them. When Domineau gave in, she did so with deference and a bit of wit.

  “You know what would be funny?” she drawled. “If after all this effort to sandbag me, it turns out that one of them is allergic to cats. Hope you have a plan B.”

  It wasn’t her imagination at all when Lacey all but wiped a paw across her whiskers. Whatever she was up to was making her grin from ear to ear and appear very satisfied.

  Kelly sidled up to Heather when things wound down and the ladies started chatting. She patted her on the back and said, “Good job.”

  “It’s what I do. What I did,” she pointed out. “Being a counselor is nothing more than acting as a facilitator. People want to help. They just need direction.”

  A slight frown marred her friend’s face. “Are you okay? Your coloring is off. Maybe you should sit.”

  Heather shook her off with a rueful smirk. “It’s Arizona in the summer. The heat is not my friend. I’m fine, really. Brody is giving me grief because he thinks I’m dehydrated.” She held up her water bottle. “He’s crazy because I drink enough to make me a regular bathroom visitor.”

  “If you say so,” Kelly muttered. “I have to get going. Roman took Matty into Sedona. They’re checking out the dog rescue lady who Brody thinks is the bomb. If I leave them alone too long, we’ll be dragging a Leonberger back to New York.”

  “Oh dear,” she replied with a laugh. “Isn’t a Leonberger basically a giant dog?”

  “Yeah,” Kelly sneered. “It is. And both my guys find it fall down hilarious that the beast would dwarf me. Swear to god, they’ll look for the biggest canine imaginable just to mess with me. Assholes.”

  Heather hugged her friend and snickered at the funny picture her words painted. Kelly dealing with a massive dog while Matty and Roman laughed would be par for the course for their unusual family.

  Stephanie waylaid Heather on the way to her car.

  “Hey, hold up, Heather.”

  She quickly stashed her workbag in the back seat and smiled warmly. Even without a single man around, Stephanie had a way of swinging her hips that set her apart from all the rest. There were beauty queen wannabes and then there was Stephanie Dane.

  “Calder has asked if Bella would like to come over soon. Maybe one day after she takes Snowflake for a ride. I think he wants her opinion on some crazy idea he’s working on. You know him.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Heather quipped. “My daughter has a busy schedule. And once school starts, it’s only going to get crazier. She wants dance lessons and piano class. Plus, she, Molly, and Amy plan on taking everything the Double M offers for their age group. I’ll see if she can pencil Uncle Thor in for a consult.”

  They laughed and snickered at the absurdity that sometimes colored Family Justice. Things were never boring.

  Chapter 13

  His shoulder was asleep. Pins and needles swarmed on his arm as he levered away from the doorjamb where he’d been leaning for lord only knows how long. Cam rubbed away the prickly sensation. He didn’t care if barbed wire was involved—as long as he could quietly observe the beauty of his sleeping kids, he was good.

  He stared at Lily in her crib. She was adorable when she slept. Sometimes, he wondered what dreams his babies had. Did Dylan dream about snow angels and horseback rides in the desert? Would Lily Rose’s imagination be filled with wonder?

  God, he hoped so.

  With a reluctant sigh, he pulled the door partially shut after one final look. Across the hallway, he peeked in on Dylan. They’d had a busy day, and the lad was out cold, sprawled across his new toddler bed—a second birthday gift from Uncle Sinjin.

  He smirked at the “big boy bed.” Drae’s idea of what every kid needed. Cam wanted to kill him when he first saw it. Not because it wasn’t unique and awesome—but because there were ladders involved and an “upstairs” loft area that poked at Cam’s protective instincts. Wasn’t the modified bunk bed design simply an invitation for a broken arm?

  To his annoyance, after Roman pointed out that Matty had a similar bed, all of his objections were ignored, and the massive wood structure was installed.

  Some part of him didn’t enjoy this growing up thing Dylan had going on. If he could keep things as they were, he would. Indefinitely.

  Being a good dad and partially housebroken husband, he gathered the laundry from the kid’s bathroom hamper, wiped down the sink where Dylan squirted toothpaste, and double-checked the toilet. His son mastered a kid potty and graduated to the real deal not that long ago. It wasn’t unusual for a full party to break out when he proudly displayed the results of a bowel movement. This also meant Dylan Henry Cameron started early with the bathroom humor.

  He was shoving stuff into the washing machine when his senses picked up Ponytail’s scent. Lacey was home!

  Instantly losing patience with his domestic chores, he crammed as much as he could into the washer, filled the detergent cup, set the wash controls, and bolted from the laundry room in search of his wife.

  He found her in the kitchen in front of the refrigerator, bent over and showing the slightest hint of her underwear as she rummaged around. The bottle of fruit juice she pulled out was half gone in a heartbeat after she uncapped it and went for an unladylike slug. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she let out an exaggerated, “Ahh,” and slammed the door.

  When she turned around, he was right there grinning at her. “Thirsty?” he teased.

  She kissed him hello, mumbled “Mmhmm,” and looked at everything in the kitchen except him.

  Cam chuckled. “What did you do?”

  Her gasp and the way her eyes shot to his struck him as pretty funny. Didn’t she realize he knew her better than she probably knew herself?

  “I did a bad,” she murmured.

  The naughty girl caught in the act vibe his wife was putting off made Cam’s heart soar with amusement. He took her by the wrist—she said she’d been bad after all—and pulled her into
the living room.

  He took the juice bottle from her hand, put it on the coffee table, and then sat on the sofa. Patting his thigh, he arched a brow and waited.

  She crossed her arms, pulled some cocked hip bullshit out of her quiver, and pouted up a storm.

  “What does that mean?” she grumbled with a dip of her head to indicate his hand gesture. “Sit on your lap or prepare to be spanked?”

  She surprised him with her reaction. His snickering chuckle was genuine. “Which would you prefer?”

  With about as much grace as a clumsy puppet with a bad case of the sorrys, his Ponytail dropped onto his lap in a way that sent an unfortunate slam to his nuts. He grimaced when she wiggled around—totally ignoring the fact that she was killing him.

  “When I tell you what I did, you’ll want to spank me.”

  Her lip biting and pouty tone resulted in the usual hard-on. She was just so damn adorable the way she hesitated. He knew she’d been with the girls. That was why he was home alone with the kids. It was inconceivable that she’d get into an argument, so what else could it be?

  He asked, “Is my phone about to light up with messages?”

  Lacey sniffed and played with the end of her ponytail. “Well, maybe.” She shrugged and smoothed her dress. “Uh, possibly Rafe.”

  His hackles went up. “Excuse me?”

  Her grimace did nothing to calm him down. If Dallas had done anything to disrespect his wife, he would be cleaning the floor with that shithead slab of muscle, once and for all.

  “You’re going to get mad,” she whined.

  “Fuck, yeah, I am. If that asshole did anything, I’ll …”

  “No! No, oh poop, Cameron. No. He didn’t do anything. It was me. I’m the one.”

  “What?” He was confused. “You did something to Rafe?” A slow smile crept onto his face. “Was it good? Please tell me it was.”

  The way her bottom bounced on his groin when she gave an exasperated huff made his dick eagerly engage.