Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Read online

  She actually heard several people murmur, “Aww.”

  Parker made his vows to her so earnestly that she nearly wept. She could barely speak during her turn.

  The moment when they exchanged rings, and she felt him slide the marriage band onto her finger, she could swear the angels in heaven stood and applauded.

  When he kissed her to seal the deal, the expression on his face melted her heart.

  “Friends and loved ones, it is with much honor that I introduce to you for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Parker Sullivan.”

  Her husband held fast to the hand on his arm and squeezed. A tremendous cheer and shouts of joyful congratulations filled the church.

  “In case this wasn’t implied, Angel. You are my sunshine. Happy?” he asked.

  The blush that rushed onto her cheeks took Angie by surprise. She was Parker Sullivan’s wife. Oh. My. God.

  “Deliriously,” she answered. “Thank you.”

  He smiled into her eyes, and they took their first steps as husband and wife.

  “How much cake have you had?” Alex asked with a warm laugh. He brushed some crumbs off her belly.

  “I don’t know,” Meghan answered. Her mouth was still full as she shrugged. Her tongue caught a glob of icing from the corner of her lips. “Just one. Or three.”

  Looking around him to the dance floor, she gestured with her head. “Your mother is drunk.”

  “I know! It’s hysterical, isn’t it? Wanna dance?”

  She groaned and shook her head. “I’d love to but these guys,” she said with a tummy pat, “have initiated an energy drain. And my damn feet hurt.”

  She pulled up her dress and glared balefully at the offending body parts. “Do they look swollen to you? That wouldn’t be good, you know.”

  Alex pulled a foot onto his lap and inspected it carefully. He didn’t bother to minimize his scowl. “Did you HAVE to wear heels? That’s the problem. Your ankles aren’t swollen—your feet are just pissed off.”

  Punching him in the arm, she put her foot on the floor. “Don’t yell at me.”

  “I’m not yelling,” he scolded.

  “Yes, you are. Nothing’s wrong with my shoes. They’re cute.”

  “Would it kill you to put something sensible on your damn feet when you know it’s going to be a long day?”

  Two arms came around her neck from behind. She recognized her mother-in-law’s perfume right away.

  “Is my son being a butthead?”

  “Yes,” she whined. “He doesn’t like my shoes.”

  Ashleigh gasped and straightened. She pinned Alex with a dirty look. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t say anything about not liking the shoes. I simply suggested it might have been smarter to wear something more sensible.”

  “Oh”—Meghan snickered—“I see how it is. So the shoes are okay, but I’m stupid?”

  “Alexander!” Ashleigh growled.

  His father smacked him on the shoulder and laughed. “They’re messing with you, son. Didn’t you get the shoe memo?”

  “What shoe memo?” her clueless, exasperated beast asked.

  “The one that says all shoes are fantastic, and that painful feet have nothing to do with footwear. If you misplaced it, that’s okay. Just page to the supplemental charts at the back of the husband’s manual.”

  Meghan and Ashleigh clung to each other and giggled at the perplexed look on Alex’s face.

  “I’d mumble disagreeable things about lack of respect, but I suspect you’d just make fun of that too.”

  “I’d better dash off,” Ashleigh told them. “It’s almost time for Angie to change into her traveling outfit.”

  “Does she know yet?” Meghan asked.

  “That Parker’s booked a private island for a Tahitian honeymoon?” Cristián shook his head. “Not yet. She’ll have a couple of hours to figure it out.”

  Cristián glanced around and so did she. Ashleigh wandered to the next table and was fussing over Lacey while, on the dance floor, Calder had Bella whirling around in a waltz.

  Dammit if her mother-in-law didn’t choose that exact moment to wave her over. She looked concerned and had a hand on Lacey’s arm, so it wasn’t like she could ignore the summons.

  “Would you gentlemen excuse me,” she muttered. Alex studied her face. She offered a wan smile and rubbed his back.

  As much as she hated to draw attention her way, Lacey was in a bind. Feeling like she was about to faint in the middle of a crowded wedding reception, she didn’t have much choice. Cameron was outside with Draegyn doing terrible things to the limo Parker and Angie would take to the airport, and without her husband’s watchful hovering, she was struggling.

  Thank god for Ashleigh Marquez. When she stopped at the table to say hi, the shrewd although slightly tipsy woman knew right away something was up. Within a minute or two, she’d gotten Meghan involved.

  “Sweetie,” Meghan murmured as she held Lacey’s hands and vigorously rubbed them. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” she burst out bewilderedly. “I felt fine, and then I didn’t.” She was too weak to shrug. “Please don’t make a scene,” she begged in a dwindling whisper.

  Ashleigh grabbed one of her arms, Meghan the other, and they lifted her bodily off the chair and walked straight to the ladies’ room. They laid her on the sofa and elevated her feet with a pillow.

  Meghan stroked her hair and murmured calm words. Ashleigh dashed off.

  “Where’s she going?” Lacey asked through lips that felt numb.

  “To get you a soda.”

  “Oh,” she whimpered. “Good idea.” She lay back and put a hand over her eyes. “I don’t feel good, Meghan.”

  “I can see that. Just relax, okay? You can sip a bit of cold soda and see what happens. If this doesn’t pass in a hurry, I’ll go get Cam.”

  Ashleigh came back a second later with a small glass of ice and a can of soda. Lacey heard the sound of the tab pulled and the liquid being poured into the glass. Meghan put an arm behind her shoulders and lifted. She was too weak to help.

  “Call Drae,” Meghan murmured to Ashleigh. “Have him bring Cam.”

  Lacey lay back and moaned.

  “What’s wrong?” The urgency in Meghan’s voice scared the crap out of her.

  She clutched Meghan’s hand. “My back hurts. And my head is spinning.”

  She had no way to judge the passing of time when all she was capable of was breathing. Trying to remain calm took all her energy.

  Everything got hazy, and she might have started crying. Cameron’s voice reached into the panic, and she sobbed his name.

  “It’s okay, Ponytail. I’m right here. Squeeze my hand, baby. That’s my good girl.” She felt his lips on her forehead.

  A long, harsh groan jangled her nerves when Lacey realized the sound was coming from her.

  And then everything went fuzzy.

  Tori saw Draegyn marching toward her. She was having a high old time with Heather while Brody commandeered the dance floor and treated everyone to a perfect Saturday Night Fever—You Should be Dancing tour de force. Brody Jensen could give Tony Manero dance lessons. They shrieked and cheered as he went through his paces. By the time he was doing splits and laying down some hair-raising pelvic thrusts, they were well and truly out of control.

  It was her husband’s placid expression that shut down her hijinks. He never looked like that unless he was putting on an act. Or hiding something.

  Coming straight to her side, he reached for her hand and held tight. “We have a situation. Stay calm. Don’t react.”

  “Okay. What do you need?”

  At her side, Heather let out a fan girl shriek while Brody gyrated around the dance floor. Draegyn looked at her for a moment then quietly murmured, “Act normal, babe, but bring them both to the vestibule. And be quick about it.”

  He walked off.

  Her heart felt like it would thud right out of her chest. She rais
ed her hand and placed it at the bottom of her neck. “Relax,” she whispered.

  The song ended and applause rang out—Brody bowed and waved. Tori reached for Heather’s hand as Brody approached. She saw the second he realized something was up.

  “What is it?” he asked. His voice was sharp, and she felt the tension in his question.

  “Draegyn says there’s a situation. Act normal, but we have to move into the vestibule.”

  Heather pushed Brody toward her. “You two go. Let me make sure Bella is in good hands, and I’ll be right along.”

  There was no discussion—they each reacted immediately. Brody slung an arm around her shoulders after Heather walked off. “Come on. Let’s happy stagger to the door and nobody will notice a thing.”

  They got through the huge ballroom without managing to attract more than a nod or two. When they made it to the vestibule, Cristián was waiting with an anxious shadow covering his expression. He waved them over.

  “Cameron and Lacey are in an ambulance on the way to the hospital.”

  Tori jolted—her hand shot out, and she grabbed Brody’s arm as an anchor.

  “Alex and Meghan are leaving now.”

  “Where’s Draegyn?” she asked.

  “He’s talking to the Sullivans. We all agree that Parker and Angie don’t need to know. My wife and I will manage things with Wendy and Matt. Ash is with Angie now. She’s changing out of her dress. I think Sophie is with them.”

  She said something so obvious that she couldn’t believe nobody else thought of it.

  “They’ll notice if Alex isn’t here. Especially Parker.”

  “Shit,” Cristián muttered. He pulled his phone out and sent a hasty text. There was an immediate answer, and he seemed to relax. “I caught them,” he said out loud.

  Heather appeared, and Brody filled her in. She took charge. “We’ll go to the hospital. Nobody will miss us. Calder and Stephanie have already snagged Bella for the evening. They’re gonna have a sleepover.” She smacked Brody on the arm to get his attention. “Go say good night and give Calder a heads-up.”

  She pushed Cris and her toward the ballroom. “Get back in there and act normal. I’ll tell Alex and Meghan the plan. As soon as Parker and Angie leave, maybe we’ll know something.”

  It was all happening too fast. Lacey was in trouble—she should be with her friend. But what could she do? All around them, a party raged. She had a choice to make. Cameron was with Lacey, and that was what mattered. This was a Family Justice emergency. Parker and Angie’s beautiful day was in danger of being blown to hell.

  She saw Draegyn talking to Matt Sullivan and went to his side. They were discussing a plan.

  “Wendy went to join Ash and Sophie—to help Angie change. They’ll keep the process moving along without raising eyebrows.”

  Alex came dashing into the room. Tori watched him pick his way through the crowd.

  “Perfect timing,” Matt muttered to Draegyn and the Major once he reached them. “Come on. Let’s go annoy the groom. I sent him and Uncle Ed into the courtyard for some quiet time.”

  They ran off, leaving her and Cris standing in a sea of people.

  “I’m not sure what to do,” he admitted.

  “Did you see Lacey? What happened? Draegyn didn’t say.”

  “It happened so quick,” he told her. “Meghan and Ash found her in distress and moved her into the ladies’ lounge. She was resting when Cameron arrived. Next thing anyone knew, she went white, said she felt lightheaded.”

  “So her water didn’t break, and she wasn’t in labor?”

  “No—it was nothing like that. Ash said she went from saying she felt odd to a sudden fade.”

  Hmph. She thought about what little she knew but one thing was certain. “She’ll be furious if this ruins the reception.”

  “Meghan said the same thing. Alex said Lacey is always thinking of everyone else.”

  She grabbed Cristián’s arm. “We have to do this for her. Happily ever after is Lacey’s coat of arms. I think as the father of the bride, you should start gathering the family for the send-off. Matt and Alex will handle Parker. I’ll grab the wait staff and have them bring a shit-ton of champagne. Let’s burn this mother down and give those two a bon voyage they’ll remember.”

  He grabbed her and gave Tori a big hug. “I’ve known that scoundrel Draegyn St. John for a long time. He’s one lucky son of a bitch to have you watching his back.”

  “I’m the lucky one,” she assured him. “Alex and Justice saved my life.”

  They fist bumped and separated—each of them with a job to do and a show to put on.

  “Hang in there, Lacey,” she murmured aloud. “I’ll be there as soon as I get Han and Leia aboard the Falcon.”

  19

  “LA? We’re going to California?”

  The snotty, unimpressed way his wife expressed her displeasure made Parker grin.

  His wife. After a lot of years and many buckets of tears, they’d finally had their moment. From this day forward, Angelina Valleja-Marquez was his. Legally. He recalled her hand shaking when they’d signed the family Bible. She had the most beautiful handwriting. He’d been filled with pride and an overabundance of love as he watched the words flow from the pen. Angelina Noëlle Inés Valleja-Marquez Sullivan.

  And now his beautiful wife in her very pretty white dress sat next to him in the first-class cabin for the first leg of a journey that would end with them totally and blissfully alone on a small island boasting five-star accommodations for anyone with enough cash to afford the outrageous cost.

  He didn’t care if the whole affair cost him a million dollars. Starting his marriage off with ten days of naked solitude with the very sexy woman next to him pursing her lips made him—no joke—hard as a rock.

  “It’s just a stopover. Stop yer bitchin’.”

  Angie Sullivan gave him a dose of stink eye that rivaled the fulminous glares of the attorneys he opposed in court.

  She picked up her wrist and inspected the outrageously expensive diamond Rolex watch strapped to her wrist—an impulse buy he’d acquired during a recent trip to a jewelers.

  “It hasn’t even been a dozen hours and you’re already calling me a bitch.”

  “Come here,” he said. He curled his finger and leaned down as she moved closer to hear what he had to say. Wrapping a hand around her neck, he got even closer. The veil of her hair hid her from view, so he gave a bit of a grab and held her in place while he bit her neck, damn hard.

  She flinched and then moaned. He sat back and regarded her through hooded eyes. Didn’t take much to subdue his little angel.

  Her cheeks flushed. Parker enjoyed the display of lip biting and the adorably self-conscious fiddling with her hair. Leaning on the armrest between them, he ignored the passengers filing by as the boarding continued.

  “You are a bitch, and I like that bitch very much. In fact, I plan to thoroughly fuck that bitch when the opportunity arises.”

  Her eyes darted around frantically, making sure nobody overheard his lewd taunt. She screwed up her face and crossed her legs. Her body language said, “Eat shit,” but her ragged breathing and rosy blush told a different story.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the anklet and suppressed a smile. Diamonds and his wife were excellent mates. He liked the way the sparkling stones looked against her skin.

  “Did you like the anklet, baby girl?”

  She reacted with instant lust in her expression. Her sapphire eyes blazed and flecks of gold sparkled near the centers. Her attitude softened, and she shifted closer to him. It was ridiculous how easily he read her.

  Touching his hand where it rested on his thigh, she fingered the circlet of gold that declared him to be hers. “I’m touched by the symbolism. Thank you.” He enjoyed her soft, feminine voice.

  A slow smile made its way to his face. He’d never been happier or experienced more profound excitement when he thought about the future. Nothing could stand in their w
ay now that they were official.

  “I brought our journals,” he quietly informed her. She gave him a broad smile. His proposal intrigued his feisty lover. “I’d like you to expound on the significance of symbolism.”

  Angie smiled. “Symbolism is a language. Largely unspoken. It holds a quiet power,” she murmured.

  “That’s what I want you to write about. How you see it. What it makes you feel.”

  She nodded and bit her lip. “May I ask you to write something as well?”

  He almost laughed. Almost. She’d had to think about how to make the request. His novice sub was quickly learning where the line was. She could show all the attitude her little troublemaking heart desired and he’d applaud every second. But in these matters, the intimate and private part of their marital dynamic, she chose the role most natural for her. Now that he was past the initial worry, Parker embraced his part with genuine enthusiasm.

  “Yes, you may, kitten,” he murmured in an agreeable tone. She enjoyed the pet name. The naughty pet name—so he used it wisely when it would have the most impact. “What would you like me to write about?”

  His wife turned a very sexy shade of red. “Um, that picture you have of me?”

  Oh, Jesus Christ. He did not need a guidebook to know where she was headed. He grinned and said nothing. She’d have to ask. She’d have to spell it out.

  When he didn’t step into the silence with words, she was forced to improvise. He thought she’d never been cuter.

  “Yeah, well, what you said?” She arched a brow and waited hopefully for him to wade in. He still said nothing.

  Angie blew out her cheeks in an exasperated huff. “Well, anyway.” She squirmed in her seat and pushed hair behind her ear. “I was wondering if there was a particular fantasy, that you, well …”

  Being a lawyer was a damn good thing because it helped him to remain impassive while she floundered.

  “A fantasy that maybe you revisited?”

  Aw, now see? He was impressed. She got out what she wanted to say without ever using the words jerk off or masturbate. That was the sign of a real lady, wasn’t it?