Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Page 22

She felt lighter. Less weighed down. And why the hell not? I mean, might as well face it. The decision to make a life change and move home permanently—see what happened—was all but written in stone. And as for the hot piece of barrister ass known as Parker Sullivan, Esquire . . . it was time for her to stop acting like a lovesick teenager.

  He fucked with her at Pete’s, which he really shouldn’t have—and totally pulled his man-god shit at the fondue restaurant. Both times he’d pushed her buttons. It was high time for some reciprocal button pushing. Remind him who the hell he was dealing with before this went any further.

  She wasn’t a wide-eyed twenty-year-old innocent girl anymore, and he wasn’t the ambitious young lawyer burning up the hallways at the Justice Department. They’d gotten older, matured, and needed to be real with each other. And besides, she was pretty sure that was exactly what had been on Esquire Parker’s agenda when he duck marched her to dinner and then proceeded to quite deliberately establish his, uh . . . domination. Yeah, right, she snorted.

  As they pulled up to the front of Lacey’s sprawling cabin, she waved Meghan on to go ahead inside—holding up her phone and mumbling, “I have to answer this. Be along in a minute.”

  Once she was alone, Angie leaned against the buggy and muttered, “’Kay then Mr. Sexy Badass Lawyer, let’s see what ya got now, big boy.”

  Let me show you how the big boys do it. As long as she lived, Angie would remember him saying that all those years ago and since he seemed hell bent on poking her with the evocative expression now, it was most definitely time to throw it back in his face.

  She stared at her phone a minute then swiped and tapped, bringing up a text message. The fact that he hadn’t given her his number almost stopped Angie, but then she figured, What the hell. This was part of being real. Yeah—she had his number. His address, too. Even had the location of his office saved in her map app.

  She also wrote Mrs. Angelina Sullivan on tiny scraps of paper and made elaborate sketches of gowns with a suspiciously bridal flair. “So, shoot me,” she grumbled aloud.

  Hola. Talk to your Mom and let me know when we can do dinner. My schedule is totally open. Any day. Anytime. Tell me and I’m there.

  Her laughter split the air. He was, after all, a guy, and she knew how his mind worked. He’d read those words and think capitulation.

  Well, now that she’d tossed one over the fence, there was nothing to do but go find Red and Lacey. See what they’d gotten up to. Ooooh, maybe they could take the baby for a walk.

  She’d moved less than ten feet when her phone buzzed. Ahhahahahaaaaa. That was quick!

  Great. Mom will be thrilled. Where are you?

  Multi-tasking was one thing, but walking while texting had face plant potential. Sitting on the bottom steps leading to the cabin, Angie concentrated on the back and forth with Parker. He might be older and wiser, but she had a few weapons to unleash that would even the score.

  The cabin. Where are you?

  Driving back to the house. How’s Meghan?

  Thinking back to Alex’s stunned expression when Red went off on him, Angie bit off a giggle. Might be the first time ever that she’d seen her almighty brother get handed his ass so neatly by anyone other than their mother.

  I think she’s moving in with the Cameron’s. Says she’s had enough of Alex’s shit.

  OMFG You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.

  She let a couple beats of silence creep by. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the view from the front of the house and smiled. Cam picked the perfect spot to build his home.

  After letting him squirm from the quiet, she answered. She bet by now his heart was beating out of his chest!

  You DO know that I want the full story. Right?

  Angelina Marquez. God-fucking-dammit, woman. Tell me what’s happening with Irish. He’ll kill me first and ask questions later if what you say is true and I’m not wearing a bulletproof vest.

  Oh, poo. He had a point. Alex could be so . . . volatile.

  Chill your pecker.

  Angie snorted laughter as she typed. He’d told her to chill her tits at Fon Do Me, and she’d almost smacked him for it.

  Just messing with you. She’s fine.

  For reals? Don’t fuck around. You don’t want to know what he’s like when there’s trouble with M.

  “Hmph.” No shit.

  Honest. The wedding is still a go. Alexander may want to crank open his wallet though and shell out for something that says My Bad.

  Stupid fucker. Can’t believe what he did.

  What can’t you believe? That you two shared some pussy or that he admitted to it?

  You said pussy.

  His Beavis & Butthead comeback made her laugh.

  Calm down, you old pervert. It’s just a word.

  Are you kidding? It’s the BEST word ever—especially coming out of lips as sweet as yours.

  The word came out of my fingers, not my mouth. So does that count?

  It counts if those fingers came out of your pussy and not your mouth.

  She roared. He was something.

  How the hell did you do that?

  Do what?

  Change worrying about Alex and Meghan to discussing my, uh . . .

  She frantically searched her Emojis for something to insert rather than the actual word. Jeez. Someone would clean up with an app for symbols to use when flipping the bird, sucking a dick, and discussing pussy.

  Pussy, baby girl. The word you’re searching for is PUSSY.

  Angie cracked up. Damn! He had fast fingers and though she meant to refer to how quickly he’d texted her, a naughty flash of other things those fingers could do crackled in her head.

  Red is right. You’re a pervert. An old pervert.

  And you, my desert Angel, are a very sexy, very hot temptation who thought she was going to work me up in a text message. Worked. And now you can enjoy the rest of your day knowing that if we went home together at the end of the night, you’d be face down over my knee . . .

  Oh, my god! Whaaaat? She laughed. Angie planned to tease him a little then dash away giggling—and in no way expected to be the one heavy breathing over a taunt. A suggestive one. Snickering, she typed a reply.

  Sorry. What? Message was cut due to maximum characters

  Finally back at the house. Will you be here later?

  Why? You going to wait around to spank me?

  Fucker. Play with her and good luck, buddy. She could be relentless if necessary, something he should remember from her childhood. If Parker was a rebel, she was a spinning top.

  Yes

  Unf. He was killing her. Angie didn’t remember ever seeing this side of him before. It was oddly thrilling. Parker liked to play. Was good at it. He brought out a side to her nature that felt so right. But he also made it very clear who would win in the end. Didn’t mean she had to make it easy.

  Thin ice, counselor

  You asked.

  That’s how we got in this mess today. Red asked.

  Good point. Change of tactic.

  Closing argument-no rebuttal. The ladies await.

  Will you have dinner with me? Please note that I made that a question and not a foregone conclusion. If you say no, I will, of course, force the issue but thought we’d pretend first that you have a choice.

  “Hey senõrita,” she heard Tori holler from the front door. “Get your Angel ass in here. Carmen brought over a plate of sweet empanadas that will melt your brain. If you want one, get moving!”

  She shot to her feet and waved then pointed at Tori and deadpanned, “I will murder you if they eat all the good ones.”

  “Then get the fuck in here!” Noticing the phone in her hand, Victoria tsked and shook her head. “Tell that man to shut up and sit down.”

  “There’s a ban on saying shut up at the Villa. Haven’t you heard?”

  The other woman hooted with laughter and went back inside, leaving Angie to tap out her last reply. Hmmmmm.

  K
eeping the arrogant know-it-all guessing by giving nothing away, she simply asked . . .

  Dress Code?

  Tits and Ass.

  Angie laughed as she climbed the stairs and let herself into the cabin. There was SO definitely something in the damn water!

  BEFORE PARKER HAD GOTTEN BUT a couple of yards from the driveway, Alex came thundering down the walk looking a little bit like a storm cloud with feet.

  “She’s not here. Goddammit!” the man bellowed. “Where the fuck did she go?”

  Jumping into the storm’s path, Parker slowed him down with a carefully voiced, “Whoa, whoa. Relax. She’s fine.”

  Glancing over Parker’s shoulder, Alex’s eyes scoured the driveway. “How do you know? Where is she?” Alex barked.

  “She went to the cabin, man, so chill. I talked to Angie,” he added by waving his phone for emphasis.

  Watching Alex stand down was like letting the air out of a balloon after the emotion of the last half hour. Parker felt for him, he really did. Being no stranger to having opened mouth and inserted foot at the worst moment possible, he knew exactly what was going on in his friend’s mind and it wasn’t pretty.

  Slapping Alex soundly on the back, he steered him back into the house. “You lucked out, dude. Those women, with the possible exception of your sister, are one hundred and fifty percent on Team Alex. They’ll calm the waters but I’d still prepare for a full frontal assault,” Parker quipped. “Come on. Cheer up. Let’s go talk to that motley crew of yours. Get some married man perspective. Those two shitheads are always good for a laugh.”

  “Are they around?” Alex mumbled as he jammed his hands into his pockets and shuffled like a prisoner walking the green mile.

  If this were an installment of Parker and Alex’s Excellent Adventure, they’d be going back in time to that summer trip to Colorado and telling their younger, hornier selves to enjoy it now ‘cause some day what they were doing was going to fuck shit up.

  “Man, you are a mess,” Parker muttered, pushing open the heavy wood door. “Yes, they’re here. And you do surveillance for a living? Wow. You just walked right past Cam’s SUV and practically tripped over the pretentious pussy magnet that St. John drives. Shit. Is Meghan’s middle name kryptonite?”

  Ushering him deep into the Villa, they made for Alex’s tech cave where Parker was pretty sure they’d find Butch and Sundance doing their ever-alternating straight man and jokester routine. It wasn’t just an act, either. That was how they were.

  “Knew you were here, St. John,” Parker drawled, “when I stumbled over your penis envy car in the drive.”

  Draegyn and Cameron were sitting alongside each other on a workstation, remote controls in their hands, as Grand Theft Auto boomed loudly from a huge monitor. Always working, those two, Parker snickered.

  Tossing his controller aside, Drae slid to the floor and gave Parker the fuck you salute. “My Lamborghini eats your Porsche for lunch.”

  “More like your Lambo sucks off my 911.”

  “And my Escalade crushes both your girly cars,” Cam smirked. “What’s with him?” he asked, nodding at Alex.

  Pushing the silent, plodding man into a swiveling desk chair, Parker stood over him like an animal handler and announced, “Men . . . I give you one Alexander Valleja-Marquez. Warrior, gentleman, and genius. And just about the dumbest motherfucker who ever walked.”

  “Oh shit,” Drae groaned. “What’s he done now?”

  “Raise your hand if you’ve ever done a threesome.”

  Parker, Drae, and Cam all raised their hands.

  “Ever tell your wives?”

  Cam and Drae exploded at the same time, talking over each other.

  “Fuck no!”

  “Are you nuts?”

  Parker stepped back and crossed his arms, spearing the two with a meaningful look.

  “Well, what you see here,” he gestured to Alex, “is the aftermath of having told a feisty, badass Irishwoman that . . . well, I guess there’s no use in pretending I wasn’t also involved so here it is. We did a MILF together when we were teenagers, and for some insane reason, he told her about it.”

  Parker didn’t miss the way Drae and Cam coughed and fidgeted. He was guessing those two assholes knew firsthand what he was talking about.

  “Duuuuude,” Cam drawled.

  “She asked,” Alex mumbled for the hundredth time, still managing to sound stunned that she reacted the way she did when, after all, she asked. My god. What they said was correct. Men really were dumb as dirt.

  Then, after a long, tense silence, Drae muttered darkly, “What the fuck are you all looking at me for? I’m not the one who went to confession.”

  “No,” Alex agreed with a sigh. “But you would know more than us three put together about how to keep your sexual history a non-issue. Tori’s not exactly known for keeping a cool head, and with your past, I mean. . . . it’s gotta be tough.”

  Hmmph. Good point, Parker thought. Looking at Drae, he wondered how exactly the legendary ladies’ man retained his balls while being married to a whirlwind like Victoria.

  Draegyn scowled. “My wife has nothing to worry about.”

  “Neither does Meghan,” Alex agreed. “That’s not the point. C’mon, Drae. Throw me a lifeline. Are we talking flowers or jewelry? Or a car. Whatever. Help a brother out here, man.”

  Because Parker basically observed, for a living, people, body language, and words on paper, this moment was pretty goddamn funny because Alex, he, and Cam were all focused on Draegyn St. John as if he was teaching a Relationships for Dummies course aimed at a bunch of alphas involved with women who when pushed could quite literally kick all their asses.

  Drae however did not seem amused. “Okay. You guys are a bunch of assholes. Cut it out.”

  Cam took the role of peacemaker and playfully started slapping at Drae until the other man slapped back with a laugh.

  “Come on, St. John,” he drawled. “Show us the way, O Wise One.”

  “Bunch of fucktards,” Drae muttered chuckling. “You make it sound like you’re all promise ring-wearing members of the boys’ choir while I’m playing the part of Long Dong John. I’m not the only one in this room to walk a little on the wild side.”

  “True,” Parker sneered. “But, then again, none of us ever made it to the National Enquirer.”

  High fives all around on that one!

  Defeated by their humor, Draegyn St. John snickered and shook his head at them. “All right, all right. First of all,” Drae jeered. “Get your heads out yo’ asses! These are our women we’re talking about. Gotta play from a fresh deck. Rule number one. For the big stuff? Don’t ever open your wallet. Will only make it worse. The only thing that works is words. Oh, and yeah. There will be groveling, but if you play it right, there’s not a lot of things better than apology sex.”

  “Hmmph,” Parker and Alex grunted in unison.

  “Flowers and ‘my bad’ gifts are best saved for the day-to-day shit we step in. But a major faux pas like a threesome? Major, I’d be breaking out the knee pads and sizing up Irish’s ass so you’ll hit the right spot when you’re kissing it. And come ready with a good story. If it were me?” he sneered. “I’d blame it all on him,” he said pointing in Parker’s direction.

  Alex snorted a laugh. “Yeah. That was going to happen anyway.” The look he shot his way made it clear he thought Parker was ultimately to blame anyway.

  Drae and Cam turned in his direction. “You taking this one for the team?” Cam asked.

  “Sure. Why the hell not?”

  “It’s not like you could do anything that would make Angie madder, right?”

  Butch and Sundance chuckled from the cheap seats at Alex’s snappy comeback.

  Drae got all serious looking and asked, “What’s that all about, Sullivan? Rumor had it that Angie preached the gospel according to Parker, but she seems more likely to have you in the crosshairs these days. You shit in her cornflakes or something?”

 
Alex fixed Parker with a look. He’d been damn careful not to go into much detail about his past involvement with the man’s baby sister. He liked keeping his head, after all. Admitting to having slept with her was bad enough. But explaining what a dick he’d been? That part of the saga was going to go over about as well as a church fart. How quickly could he change the subject?

  “Uh, we had a misunderstanding. Trying to make it right.”

  “How’s that working for you?” Cam asked.

  Parker kicked Alex’s chair. “It would be working a lot better if this butt fuck didn’t keep making all sorts of problems for me.”

  Drae groaned and told them, “The wife texted.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “And I quote. . . . Irish on fire. Alex a dead man. Ask Cam why Lacey is acting weird and get back to me.”

  The attention shifted in unison from Alex to Cam.

  Drae frowned. “Anything?”

  Cameron sighed. “Come on. I need a beer. Anyone else?”

  Parker was already on his way to the kitchen.

  “Check this out,” Alex drawled from a spot at the counter after they’d grabbed some cold ones from the fridge. “Brody sent us a digital picture frame with all these great shots of Zeus from the kennel.”

  They gathered in a semi-circle and watched the slideshow, making pithy comments as the pictures flashed by. The last shot was of Zeus and Raven posing protectively next to the babies in their car seats.

  “Cool,” Cam murmured. “Believe it or not, I think Ponytail is considering a pup.”

  “Well, thank god you brought Lacey up yourself, dude, ‘cause I think all of us were standing here trying to come up with a way that didn’t sound all jackassey to ask what’s up,” Alex said.

  “That’s one special lady,” Parker added. “Is everything okay?”

  Cam drained his long neck, belched like a pro, tossed the empty into the recycling bin, and looked at each of them.

  “The Hey, honey, your dad’s living in Oregon and has a second family part of our program did not go over well.”

  Drae whistled and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Ruined your anniversary, didn’t you. Ya stupid shit?” Alex shook his head with dismay.