Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Page 38

  When she came home after what was just another day and found him white-knuckled and hanging by a thread, she never so much as missed a beat.

  And Bella. Oh, my god. The girl was a champ in every sense of the word. He didn’t want to hide the truth, but he also didn’t want to scare the shit out of her. But his fears were unfounded. Bella had her own issues and an old-soul grasp on powering through. When he explained during the car ride from school to home that Daddy had an achey head and didn’t feel good, she went into Wonder Woman mode.

  Alex’s lil’ captain made him go straight from the garage after parking the car, into the house, and onto the Daddy recliner at the end of the sofa. She got him a bottle of water, took the dog out, and tiptoed around. There weren’t a lot of questions, and she made sure to be quiet and not pester him.

  Bella would be one of the people you went to in a crisis. She mirrored Heather’s calm sureness and thought things through. She held down the fort until Heather came home and then slipped back into six-year-old mode without blinking an eye.

  The three of them were quite a team.

  As the love of his life quietly read from Bella’s favorite Night Fairy story, he had enough smarts to realize he should be on his knees thanking someone for the amazing family of loved ones and friends that made him feel complete.

  Everything was happening as it was supposed to. He’d honored his friend’s legacy by becoming the best damn English teacher around, and in the process, he’d found a beautiful, damaged woman whose dirty thoughts rivaled his. Together, they were raising the lost daughter he feared he’d never find. And he wouldn’t have without the aid of his Justice partners.

  He let out a heavy sigh. Justice. Ugh. Out of the blue, their past came calling like a crazy fucking stalker psycho ex-girlfriend. Sometimes, even an ironclad protection order can’t contain that shit.

  Was he glad the situation didn’t involve him? Fuck, yeah. Especially after he got an eyeful of Alex, Cam, Parker, and Drae in full tactical gear getting a technical briefing from Calder and some bulldog from the CIA.

  Jesus. Just thinking about it made him shudder.

  Heather glanced at him after his second loud sigh. He smiled and winked then pulled the door partially shut and let her get back to it.

  Heading downstairs, he went to the bar cart parked in a corner of the dining room and set about making two perfect dirty martinis. A husky chuckle rolled from his chest. His fiancée, it turned out, was a seasoned mixologist. She could win a bartender’s challenge in her sleep.

  Speaking of bartenders, he thought with an amused snicker, I wonder how Finn was faring with Lady FiFi. Fucking with the Beantown turd by dropping a yappy bundle of fur in his lap had been the highlight of Brody’s practical joker pursuits.

  Finn had wanted to kill Brody, but once again, it was his kickass kid who ruled the schoolyard. She adored Finn and adored the pup, so of course, she was in charge. Thanks to her constant interference and little girl scolding, FiFi and Finn were now buddy buddy. He took the dog with him wherever he went and doted on the little female puppy. He even gave in and brought her by the kennel for doggie school.

  Brody thought it wise to avoid him on those days. No use in rubbing the guy’s nose in it especially since Finn had done right by the dog. But he’d watched, unseen, because the dog’s welfare was important to him, and he’d been put in his arrogant place when he saw firsthand the bond between pet and master.

  Turning the gas fireplace to a low flame, he adjusted the lighting in the great room and set their drinks on the coffee table. From the basket of remote controls that always made him snicker because of how many there were, he pulled the one he needed for the sound system and searched the satellite listings until he found something that would blend into the background.

  Heather joined him not long after. She ran her fingers under his long hair and rubbed his neck as she swung around the end of the sofa and joined him.

  “Fast asleep by the time Flory was thinking about pussy willows.”

  He chuckled. “Did you just use pussy in a sentence?”

  She smacked his knee and sat forward to get their drinks. “You don’t get to snicker when those words are in a children’s story. You were an English professor, for god’s sake. Show some dignity, man!”

  They clinked glasses and took a sip. She smacked her lips and let out an exaggerated, “Ahhh.”

  After destroying an olive with her teeth, she sat back and relaxed. Lofting the martini glass, she gave him an appreciative wink. “I’ve taught you well.”

  “I’m an excellent student. Thought you knew.”

  “Is that so?” She laughed with a dubious smirk on her face. “Well,” she teased, “in that case, what can I teach you, Professor Jensen?”

  He had about fifty snappy comebacks because he loved their clever repartee when a thought blazed to life. “Oh, hey”—he snickered—“you left a window open on the laptop. Checking out Kama Sutra Tantra Chair videos? Naughty Heather. Forget to clear your browser?”

  She took another sip of the martini and raised her eyebrows. “What makes you think I forgot, hmm? Brody! You surprise me. Didn’t it occur to you that I left the browser window open for a reason?”

  “Well, now I feel stupid.” He chuckled. “Here I was thinking I caught you taking a kinky ride on the internet.”

  “Did you know the loungers are made right here in Arizona?”

  “No, I didn’t.” He laughed. “Bonus points for made in the USA. Is there a showroom? That’d be a little weird, don’t you think? Testing a mattress is one thing but trying out a fucking chair in public? I don’t know,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “You know,” she told him in a sexy matter-of-fact way, “certain positions are better than others for trying to get pregnant.”

  He almost choked on his drink. “Um, what?”

  “Yep, I’ve been doing research.”

  “What kind of research?”

  She laughed. “Practical research, you ninny. Like how an angle that brings you closest to my cervix will help.”

  “Oh. What else?”

  “An orgasm helps. The contractions help your swimmers get where they need to be.”

  She. Was. Priceless.

  “I see,” he said. With a sober, serious, and very fake expression, he asked if the chair was now a baby-making aid.

  She laughed. “It’s all about pelvis tilt and maximum thrust.”

  “Well fuck, honey,” he drawled. “I can thrust and tilt the whole damn day. Whatever you need.”

  “You break out that Saturday Night Fever dance again, and we’ll see what happens.”

  He had a good laugh. His days of hiding the fact he was an accomplished and enthusiastic musical theater performer were behind him. Because somehow, Justice was all things to all people, and this quirky bunch of rednecks, assholes, and grown-up kids out in the desert turned out to have quite an appetite for anything in the realm of a performance. It was like Bendover was custom made just for him.

  “Tell you what we should do.”

  Heather looked at him and waited.

  “I’ll have Ben fill up a couple of water bottles.”

  “Whatever for?” she asked with a chuckle.

  “Hon, something is obviously in the water out there. There’s a goddamn baby explosion happening. Oh, and we should get our freak on out at Vorticé Amore too. Maybe hang some fertility mandalas.”

  “So guzzle water from the Villa and fuck your willy dry under a pergola?”

  Brody barked with laughter. “Fuck my willy dry?”

  She giggled. “Yeah, I knew when it appeared in my head it was a good one!”

  He couldn’t stop laughing and slapped his thigh.

  Heather stood and bowed. “Thank you very much.” She held out her hand. “Now suck back the rest of that drink and get upstairs. I want your ass on that chair, so we can see if willy is up to the task.”

  He knocked back the last gulp of alcohol and stoo
d with a grunt. “I don’t know, babe. I’m kind of beat. It’s been a helluva day.”

  She gaped at him for five seconds and then laughed in his face. “Yeah, right.”

  Palming the bulge pressing the zipper of his jeans, she gave him an audacious fondle that turned his joking tease to dust.

  “Assume the position, Mr. Jensen. Mommy needs cock.”

  Laughing while hurling dirty one-liners and zingers, they held hands and climbed the stairs, stopping halfway to kiss like total sex-starved maniacs.

  He wasn’t kidding about the water or the desert fucking. Come hell or high water, either they were making a baby or they would find some other way to add to their family.

  25

  Inevitably, the time came for Alex and the others to leave. Life for Family Justice changed dramatically in the course a week. Helicopters and caravans of SUVs with tinted windows invaded their once idyllic world.

  A man dressed like an Arab sheik caused quite a commotion. So did the last piece of the Team Justice puzzle. The arrival of Rafael D’Alessandro triggered some sort of confrontation and subsequent explosive argument down in the compound.

  In short, she had a certified carnival stuffed inside a shitshow and surrounded by bullshit on her hands.

  In the end, everyone who was leaving made it to the airport on his or her own. There wasn’t a group meet-up and sobbing farewell. Alex had put his foot down over that. None of them needed a public good-bye.

  A somber Parker with a subdued Angie arrived before the sunrise. There wasn’t a lot of talk, and Ben had already taken everyone’s bags and put them in a van for the airport run. He was driving Alex and Parker in the limo and pulled up at the end of the front walk while the men communicated with the rest of the team to ascertain everyone’s status. When they’d delayed long enough, Parker grabbed Angie’s hand and dragged her outside. A guitar hung down her back as they walked away.

  Alex took Meghan’s face in his hands. “You have a big job, my love. I’m counting on you, Mrs. Marquez.”

  She’d rehearsed this moment in her mind and heart. No matter what it took, she wasn’t going to crack. When he left, she needed him confident that she was okay and could handle the temporary situation. She wasn’t okay, but she wouldn’t show it.

  Laying her hands over his, she smiled into his eyes. In her head, she heard Ashleigh Marquez saying, “Remember who you are.”

  She was the wife of Major Alex Marquez. The oath he took was part of her life now, and this was her part to play.

  “We have the best support system in the whole world,” she said, referencing herself and the twins. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  He kissed her with tenderness and told her with his lips how much she meant to him. She held nothing back so that when he left, her love and unshakeable fidelity would go with him like a protective shield.

  He made no promises on his part, and she didn’t ask for any. When all was said and done, their fate lay in the hands of the almighty. At the end of this, they were either smiling or … not. Luck, skill, fate. Strange places to place one’s life but that was the hand they were dealt.

  After a prolonged caress of her tummy, he grabbed her hair and tilted her head. The bite mark on her neck was still visible. He licked her neck and kissed the sensitive skin.

  Then he released her and stepped back half a step. Their bodies lost contact. They stared into each other’s eyes. She’d said good-bye. He’d said good-bye. The beast had even weighed in. It was time.

  Taking her hand, they twined their fingers together. “Mine,” he said.

  “Always,” she answered.

  They walked slowly to the door. The soft strains of a guitar drifted on the cool dawn breeze. Before they left the house, he turned to her and growled, “Yours.”

  She stroked his face. “My beautiful, beautiful beast. Be safe, my love. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He kissed her fiercely, wiped his eyes, and opened the door. She clung as they made it to the end of the walkway. Parker was in the car with the back windows down. Angie sat cross-legged on the old stone wall, strumming the guitar and singing.

  Meghan had to focus to hear the song. Her heart clutched, and she nearly cried out and started bawling like a baby when she realized what she was singing. It was an old song from the sixties. “Angel of the Morning.” She knew the song well and had to fight for composure.

  With a last squeeze to her hand and a kiss on his sister’s forehead, Alex cleared his throat and climbed into the car. She got a brief glance of a stoic looking Parker. As the sleek, black limo slowly pulled away and the sun made its debut, Angie’s voice rang out loud and clear—the song’s poignant lyrics playing them off.

  They stayed until the car disappeared then clasped hands and walked back into the house. As Meghan quietly closed the aged door, she prayed with all her heart to bring everyone back safe.

  Calder paced back and forth until he was certain a path formed beneath his feet. For the fiftieth time, he went through the checklist in his head. More than a week had flown by since Alex and the team left, and it was up to him to closely monitor the situation from this end—as best he could.

  To assist him, Cam’s pal Colonel Frank Davis took the point and gave him daily briefs compiled from the streams of information coming from counterintelligence.

  So far, nothing was going as planned. Unable to communicate, he was forced to bite his tongue when they checked in from Pakistan. Some from the team, he didn’t know who, were in Afghanistan. Fifty times a day he regretted letting the military take over the data gathering. They hadn’t given him a choice, but still.

  He got an encouraging message from MI6 that felt hopeful, but mostly, he was learning nothing. By the time he got information, sometimes an entire day had gone by. One or all of them could be in jeopardy or killed, and he wouldn’t hear about it until the next day.

  His wife had called an hour ago to ask if he was okay with going to Cris and Ash’s for dinner. Wendy and Matt had tickets for a show, and everyone agreed that unless something special like that was on the agenda, none of them should isolate themselves or be alone. He readily agreed.

  Cristián was more father figure than brother-in-law, and he could use a dose of his clear-eyed, positive outlook.

  He’d touched base with everyone except Meghan. Calder always saved her for last. He knew that everyone else’s narrative would contain part of her story, so he spread the net wide and picked up all that he could before checking in.

  Because he ended every day in Alex’s tech zone, he was in a position to form a firsthand opinion on how she was doing. She put on a happy face for him, but he saw the strain and the darkening smudges beneath her eyes.

  Carmen kept track of every morsel of food Meghan put in her mouth—including anything she ate away from the house because people reported back. He hoped she didn’t feel like she was under house arrest from how closely people tracked and weighed her every word and movement.

  Zeus got up from her usual spot by the door. She yawned and stretched then sat down and watched him pace. The faithful, protective Labrador stayed glued to Meghan unless he invaded Alex’s private domain. Then she trotted along with him—he assumed the routine gave her comfort because she clearly missed Alex.

  The alarm on his phone went off. Time to call a full lid for the day. No more information would be forthcoming. He checked his watch, set a new reminder, and called it a day.

  “Come on, girl. Let’s go check on Lady Mama and see what’s what.”

  He tapped his thigh in command and flipped off the overhead lights as the dog followed him.

  Laughter and exasperation hit his ears when they were nearly at the end of the long corridor that led past Alex’s study and to the great room. Meghan was on a stool at the kitchen island, and Carmen was flapping her arms like a crazy person.

  When he got close enough to see what had Carmen in a dither, he coughed on a laugh. A stack of dirty pots, pans, dishe
s, and kitchen appliances covered one side of the counter while in the sink sat a pan filled with water. Pans filled with water usually meant something got scorched or burned.

  Carmen shot him a withering glare when he coughed.

  Meghan looked over her shoulder and slapped a way-too-happy grin on her face when she saw who approached.

  He gave her a side hug and asked the obvious. “What the heck did you make?”

  She held up a stoneware mug and smiled. “Soup. Chicken Noodle to be exact.”

  Carmen sputtered and pointed at the mug as if it contained the devils’ brew. “That is a can of Campbell’s soup,” she spat with outrage.

  He eyed the kitchen carnage and raised his brows. Carmen looked at him with her hands out. He understood. She couldn’t do much except deal with it.

  “What’ve you heard today?” Meghan asked with an air of casual innocence.

  Neither one of them bought the act she was putting on, but it was part of the charade, so he played along.

  “The weather is lovely in Quetta.” A nod was all he got or expected. Calder didn’t even try to keep the important stuff from her. She’d never trust him again if he did.

  “Hey,” he gently asked. “Did you play with your birthday toys?”

  Meghan’s birthday came and went without any fuss. She wouldn’t hear of it when plans started rumbling and didn’t care if it was a big deal or not. She didn’t want any celebrations without Alex, but that didn’t stop an avalanche of presents from showing up on the doorstep.

  “The LED shoelaces are fantastic! I turn out the lights and run around the room.”

  “That’ll be fun when you guys play hide and seek.” He inwardly groaned when she went wobbly from the innocent comment.

  “Yes, well—I saved all the bows and cards. To share with my husband when he comes home.”

  She shut the conversation down with her terse statement. Carmen side-eyed him. He sighed.

  “Meghan,” he gently murmured. Rubbing her back, he tried to cajole her from the funk his offhand comment caused. “You know damn well Alex will howl with laughter, poke some fun at the waste of good technology, and then demand a pair of his own.”