Unchained Read online

  Could shit get any better?

  THE SUN FELT good on her face, but that didn’t stop Stephanie from reaching up to reposition the hat she wore partly for protection and partly because Calder thought the cowgirl style made her look cute.

  Cute. A smile accompanied her silent laugh. Did she still qualify for ‘cute’ when her fiftieth birthday was just days away? Apparently, her sexy boyfriend thought so.

  Boyfriend. This time, the smile and laugh weren’t something she could hold in. She was cute, goddammit! And she had a boyfriend. Fifty was the new Oh, my god, and she intended to make the next year her best yet.

  The sound of hooves thundering from behind got louder as a horse approached. No need to turn around and see who it was. Her smile widened until it hurt.

  A gorgeous blond mustang trotted alongside and adjusted its pace to match hers. The horse was new—a recent acquisition courtesy of the big denim-clad man astride its back. And the sole reason he’d purchased the beast? Because of its color. She had it on good authority that Calder Dane was quite partial to blondes these days.

  A short quack of laughter had escaped her throat before Stephanie managed an awkward cough to cover up the amusement swirling inside. Was anything more appealing than an overprotective man? She doubted it. With the Justice compound and Marquez Villa being ground zero for badass alphas suffering from terminal vigilance where their women and families were concerned, it was a trait she encountered on a daily basis.

  Readjusting her grip on the reins, she quickly glanced to the side and then looked away. After a dramatic sigh, she pursed her lips and flipped the Southern Belle switch, opting for full twang with a saucy bite.

  “What took you so long, shugah? Po’ little me needed rescuing, at least, three times since I left the stable.”

  Calder’s wickedly hot chuckle snaked around every active nerve ending in her body. “Duchess,” he drawled, “you were told not to venture out into the desert by yourself. Rescuing you would not be necessary if you had just obeyed.”

  Obeyed! As if. Arching an eyebrow, she fixed him with her best ‘Eat shit’ expression. “Got a belt buckle that says you’re an ass.”

  Both horses whinnied in unison as his laugh rang out across the desert floor. “Zip it, rodeo gal. Don’t care how many barrel races you won as a kid. And just to be clear, that belt buckle won’t stop me from hauling your Georgia-peach ass over my lap for an old-fashioned spanking.”

  Trying to appear indignant—difficult to do when you’re struggling not to laugh—she flipped her hair and shot him a pointed glare.

  “What is it with you Justice boys and this fascination with spanking? Did y’all spit sideways into the wind and swear a drunken oath under the desert moon to earn bottom slapping privileges?”

  “Maybe.” An eyebrow waggle accompanied Calder’s teasing reply. Could he be more adorable? “And don’t play coy with me, woman. You like getting your ass smacked.”

  “Hush.” She snickered. “A lady never admits to enjoying such brutish behavior.”

  He laughed some more. “You don’t have to admit shit, Stephanie. Your beautiful ass and my smacking hand are so well acquainted that pretending to have an aversion to my brutish ways is pointless.”

  A quick yank on the reins and her horse instantly halted. “Stop changing the subject.”

  “The subject, as I recall, was your failure to abide by my directives, followed by an empty threat involving a buckle, and the assurance by me that even on horseback, I can spank your disobeying ass.”

  Muttering darkly, she looked at him with eyes obscured by a glowering frown. “That damn word was invented by men. Obey,” she spit out. “I mean, really?”

  When she stopped her horse, his continued a few steps before Calder pulled the Mustang alongside hers. Close enough that it was easy for him to reach out and wrap a big, warm hand around her neck.

  “Got a complaint, have you? Kiss your lord and master with that irascible mouth and I’ll present your grievance at the next Justice Boys’ club meeting.”

  “Lord and master?” She shrieked a scant second before his mouth descended and she forgot her name, forgot where they were, and forgot to care about anything except the thrill of his lips claiming hers.

  Tasting desire, his and hers, Stephanie surrendered. It was always like this with Calder. He said more with one kiss than her heart could contain. And it only got better the longer they were together. Believing love was nothing but a brief memory from her long-ago past, she’d replaced the dated opinion with a soulful revelation. She loved this man with unquestioned depth and sincerity.

  The kiss was getting interesting having flown right past seduce before detouring to devour when his mouth unexpectedly lifted away. Scrambling for oxygen and some understanding, she squirmed in the saddle and prayed against tumbling awkwardly onto her butt.

  Grabbing the pommel for support, Stephanie looked around, saw where Calder’s attention was directed, and turned to see what the heck was happening.

  Five large black SUVs were speeding along the access road to the Villa. Her brows shot up with alarm. Whatever this was, it involved the family and not the agency.

  She glanced at Calder. His hands were tense, and his posture screamed high alert. It was still early. Stephanie wasn’t stupid. She loved her morning ride but had enough sense to head out early before the killer Arizona summer sun made it too hot to think. A squad of ominous vehicles flying toward the Villa not long after the ass crack of dawn didn’t evoke feelings of joy.

  Something was obviously up. “That doesn’t look good,” she worriedly murmured.

  “Government cars.”

  “How can you tell?”

  He didn’t respond, just sat there staring with a serious scowl settling on his handsome face. “Come on.” He urged his horse on and jerked his head at her to follow.

  “Calder …” She stopped abruptly.

  The fear in her voice must have spread to her face because his frown lightened and he locked eyes with her. “Honey, it’ll be fine, but we won’t know anything until we get to wherever they’re headed, so let’s just get moving. Okay?”

  Taking off in a steady trot, they reined their mounts toward the main house, riding side-by-side in silence. She could sense the anxiety rolling off him in waves.

  Calder assumed responsibility for the entire compound in Alex’s absence. He and Parker shared legal control of the whole shebang while Cameron and Draegyn ran the agency and looked after the physical property.

  Draegyn. Oh, no. Apprehension thumped heavily in her belly. Please don’t let this involve him. Please. Things were already rocky at the St. John household. Her daughter was putting on a great act, but Stephanie saw right through the charade. Victoria and Drae needed to catch an extended break, and a parade of speeding SUVs didn’t qualify.

  At the Marquez stable, they handed off their mounts to one of the newer barn hands and made quick work of making sure the horses were cared for. Running in and out of the bathroom with all the haste Stephanie could muster, she dialed back her anxiety half a notch when she found Calder waiting nearby, busily texting. Not having to pee so badly made it easier for her to think straight.

  “Who?”

  He didn’t bother to question what she was asking.

  “Cameron.”

  They stared at each other. She nodded and shuffled her feet. “What do you need to do?”

  “I should get down there.”

  He hesitated so slightly she almost missed it. Highly tuned to each other, the brief pause let her know he was outside his comfort zone. With Cam on the hot seat, this situation was undoubtedly a Justice matter.

  Going to him, she stroked a hand up and down his arm. “Would you like me to come with you?”

  “Yes.” Strong. Firm. No uncertainty whatsoever.

  Stephanie reached and slid her hand into his grasp. “The boys know what they’re doin’, darlin’.” The twang was back. He noticed and smirked.

  “I
swear to god,” he growled while squeezing her fingers and pulling her to walk with him. “If this messes up your birthday, I’m gonna be pissed.”

  Seriously? Stephanie looked at him with unguarded astonishment. A Justice situation was in motion, and he was thinking about her birthday?

  She was still ruminating on Calder’s odd reaction after he bundled her into a waiting two-seat Polaris Ranger and took off down the lane toward the Cameron cabin.

  “Here you go, sweetie,” Lacey cooed as she dropped a small handful of Cheerios onto Dylan’s highchair tray. “One at a time!”

  She chuckled at her son’s mischievous expression when he scooped a bunch of the crunchy O’s into his chubby little hand and shoved them all into his mouth. Seeing two stuck to his cheek made her laugh harder and got the happy baby bouncing gleefully and smacking his hand on the chair’s tray.

  Because it was so early, both of them were still dressed in their jammies. Dylan was sporting a onesie that read I am a Jedi like my Father before me. Cameron picked it up at a kids’ boutique last time they shopped in Vegas. It was so apropos she wished he’d gotten one in every size up to a 3XL so their son would have a ready supply as he grew up.

  She was barefoot, hair in a messy pony, and wearing no makeup. The thin white camisole she threw on along with a plain pair of panties was beneath her favorite robe—a soft pink cashmere shortie with a double wrap sash.

  At that particular moment, she was damn glad for the efficient sash because she wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Finding herself barely half-dressed and under the stern, watchful eye of a complete stranger standing ominous guard in the kitchen doorway was not how she saw this morning unfolding.

  Thinking she should wipe her son’s face, Lacey started for the washroom just off the kitchen when the hulking sentry who watched her like a hawk moved in front of her.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” The hand he held up to prevent her from moving about freely showed a tribal tattoo wrapping around his wrist. It reminded her of the one decorating her husband’s muscled bicep.

  Annoyed, she crossed her arms and stared down her polite guard. This was her home, darn it. Who the heck did he think he was telling her she couldn’t go to the bathroom?

  “Either let me grab my son’s washcloth from the washroom or go get it for me.”

  She made this demand with barely concealed exasperation. Viewing the man with a less-than-friendly expression, she was hard pressed to keep a rude eye roll off her face.

  Someone ought to tell these government trolls that the whole men-in-black thing was a yawn fest. When an entire circus of black-suited operatives invaded her quiet morning routine and started barking directives, she almost laughed at the absurdity of the cliché come to life. There wasn’t anything funny, though, about the tense conversation she knew was going down in her living room.

  Standing her ground, Lacey all but tapped her bare foot as she stayed put and glared at her guard dog, arms crossed with a deep scowl on her face.

  She could see him weighing the options. Deciding to keep his job rather than cave to her mean-Mom face, he took three swift steps into the hallway, glanced at her, and said, “Stay there, ma’am,” and then hurried into the bathroom.

  “Oh, and grab the Vaseline off the counter too.”

  He was back less than ten seconds later, handing her the soft baby washcloth and tub of goo. Having won this particular battle, she graciously accepted the items and returned to her son’s side.

  By the time she cleared the highchair’s tray, washed Dylan’s face and hands, and handed him his sippy bottle, a good ten or fifteen minutes had flown by. That was when she heard raised voices. Her guard heard them too and glanced down the long hallway separating the kitchen and great room from the expansive living room.

  Lacey froze. She didn’t like the sound of her husband’s voice raised in anger. Didn’t like the dark, menacing air of the response she couldn’t quite make out. Something wasn’t right. Goose bumps spread across her skin.

  Her eyes darted to Dylan. Placing her body between Cameron’s son and what was happening was one hundred percent protective mom. Another series of noises invaded her senses from a different direction. Heart pounding, she shot her hand out as a reflex to shield her baby. Too much was happening too fast.

  Long, tense seconds passed. She looked briefly at the suit of black and noticed two things immediately.

  He had a finger on his ear—she’d already noted the earpiece—and his other hand was inside his suit jacket. Shit. She knew that pose. He was reaching for his gun.

  Every salacious and rude swear word in her unspoken stockpile sprang to mind followed by one thought … Dylan.

  Dammit, she mentally griped. Instead of pole dancing workshops, she should have been up at the Villa’s gym working on some self-defense moves.

  A loud, harsh clamor at the back door had her swinging around to see what was up.

  Voices. Belligerent voices. Stern. Powerful.

  Wait. Was that Calder? It was! She immediately breathed a deep sigh of relief. Running to the kitchen door, she peered onto the back patio. Yep. Calder and another black suit were having a heated exchange. Stephanie appeared at the foot of the steps where she paused to take in the scene before dashing to Calder’s side.

  Lacey immediately flung open the door.

  “Ma’am,” her guard dog barked. She saw him hurrying toward her and knew he intended to prevent her from letting anyone in.

  Pfft. She didn’t think so! These people were on her turf. This was Cameron property. Morphing into a blond ponytailed version of Wonder Woman, she held up her hand and yelled, “Stop!”

  The guy stumbled to an awkward halt less than five feet from where Dylan sat taking everything in with watchful intensity.

  “Back off, agent. Take another step toward my son and you won’t like how I react.”

  He stood absolutely still, looking back and forth between her, Dylan, and the back door.

  “That man out there has legal control of this property. He’s coming in whether you want him to or not.”

  Swiftly yelling from the back door, she called out, “Calder. Stephanie. I need you.”

  That was all she had to do. Returning to her baby, she resumed a protective posture and waited.

  “WITH ALL DUE respect, sir,” Cam bit out. “Ma’am,” he added with a terse nod at the woman currently worrying a path into the wood floor with her constant back and forth. “But I don’t think you’re hearing me. This isn’t a good time for me to be off-site. Now, if we’re talking a satellite connection from here …” He left off the rest, but they knew what he was getting at.

  If his unexpected guests were anyone except who they were, he’d have been a lot less respectful. Or receptive. But being a rude ass dick to one of the top supervisory agents in the Secret Service and the chairman of a hush-hush secret intelligence committee just wasn’t done. He still had enough military inside him to recognize when to snap to attention and when to flip the bird.

  “As you already know, Major Marquez is out of the country indefinitely.”

  Alex’s name held a hefty amount of gravitas, so he made sure to toss it out as a reminder of where they were and who the hell they were dealing with.

  “At the present time, my responsibilities remain here. In Arizona.”

  Chairman Johnson eyed him dispassionately. The man was a notorious hard-ass. He’d have to be in order to do what he does, Cam thought. His serious expression reminded him that here was a guy who knew the dirty. The real deal. Not the sanitized, heavily edited pabulum the press served up.

  Mix in the Secret Service with whatever Johnson had on his plate and some serious shit was underway.

  Fuck my life. Cam said nothing, but the sense of impending surrender to forces mightier and much more powerful than Justice made its way into his consciousness.

  “We aren’t asking, Mr. Cameron. This isn’t a request. No shitting around. Your country needs you. A serious situation affecting th
e delicate balance of bullshit versus the U.S. exists, and you have certain skills,” he said with a hypocritically patronizing sneer that made Cam want to throw a punch.

  Yep. Here we go, he thought with brittle irritation. These guys would just never let him be.

  Special Agent in big-time charge, Adrienne Giroux stopped pacing and shut down the entire conversation.

  “Gentlemen. Time to buck up. This back and forth is useless and wasting time. Cameron,” she snapped, “pack a bag and let’s get going. We’re talking about the Vice President’s grandson, so let me be blunt. Either you locate and get him out of there, or we face the real possibility of an all-out war of retribution.”

  Cam rolled his head and neck to release some of the excruciating tension gripping him. Search and rescue in what was essentially a terrorist’s stronghold. Objective—save a life and possibly democracy itself.

  Fuck.

  Knowing he was cornered and feeling peeved about it, Cam shoved his hand into a pocket and gave his high-level handlers a dour glare.

  “What’s in it for me?” He used the dick-ish question as a way to buy time while he thought.

  “Why, the gratitude of a grateful nation, of course,” Johnson snidely replied.

  “David,” Special Agent Giroux snapped, “give it a rest.” With a rueful smirk, she asked Cam, “What can we do for you, Jason? Is it okay if I call you Jason?”

  No. It wasn’t okay. Not okay at all.

  “For the purpose of this discussion and any further meetings, you can refer to me as Cameron Justice. Use my birth name again and, frankly, you can all go fuck yourselves.” He turned a withering expression of utter contempt on both of them. “Don’t treat me like an imbecile.” He was hollering and didn’t care. “You both have my entire dossier on your phones. What? Did you think I’d piss my pants because of a deliberate taunt? You know what?” he suddenly growled. “On second thought, fuck you sideways. You messed with the wrong guy this time. Just toddle on back to your superiors and tell them you acted like assholes and I wasn’t having it. If you guys need to ass fuck a decorated veteran to make yourselves feel important, well …”