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  His crossed arms and aggressive tone finished the thought. Giroux’s pursed lips and drawn-on brows bumping together let Cam know he’d struck a nerve.

  They weren’t going to let go that easily. He knew that. But by calling them on their shit and issuing a threat, he now had more than just a couple of chips in the game.

  No surprise when Johnson issued a threat of his own. “Don’t mess with the big boys, son, or you could find yourself selling whistles on a street corner for a living.”

  “Enough!” the venerable lady snapped irritably. “I don’t need a fucking pissing contest!”

  Cam fought not to laugh.

  “Mr. Cameron,” she said with pointed precision. “We have to leave this house now. Don’t force my hand. Either come willingly or I’ll be compelled to act on the authority of the President and take you out of here by force if necessary.”

  Just as he suspected. The polite dog and pony show had run out of time.

  Dismissing the politician with the bad attitude, he fixed on the clear power in the room.

  “Ma’am,” he began respectfully. “I want a half hour to get my responsibilities in order.” He arched an eyebrow to let her know he meant business.

  “Fifteen minutes,” she countered.

  “Half an hour, Agent Giroux, or call in the big guns and drag me out by force.”

  After a few moments of eyeball combat, she finally relented without actually saying so. “May I use the restroom? Could use a quick refresh.”

  The clock was ticking. “Other side of the front door,” he answered with a jerk of his head. “Move your people away from the house immediately. I’ll meet you in the driveway in thirty.”

  And then he was racing down the hallway to Lacey. He found her in the kitchen with Calder and Stephanie. The second their eyes met, he felt her fear. Aware of the minutes flashing by, he spoke quickly and succinctly to Calder.

  “You and Stephanie take Dylan and go to Drae’s.”

  Calder asked, “What do these fuckers want?”

  He sighed deeply. “What people?”

  Calder nodded. He didn’t have to say another word.

  Going to his wife, Cam took her hand, squeezed, and held on tight. Stephanie was already pulling Dylan out of his high chair.

  “I need to talk to my wife,” he told them solemnly. “She’ll meet you at Drae’s.”

  Stephanie hurriedly brought his son to him and cheerfully urged Dylan to, “Give Daddy a kiss.”

  Two baby kisses later, he ruffled his boy’s mop of hair and chuckled as he saw what his onesie said.

  “The force is strong with my son,” he announced with beaming pride. Lacey started to tremble. They didn’t have much time. Without another word, he pulled her deeper into the house and headed for his study where he quickly closed them in and locked the door.

  Looking at his sweet, sweet Ponytail, he memorized everything about her. The length of tanned legs sticking out beneath the hem of her robe. Her bare feet and how she’d painted her toenails a light shade of pink. The half-assed ponytail and how adorable she looked with a freshly scrubbed face. She looked exactly like the young girl he’d rescued from a mugging just a year and a half ago.

  His wife might be young, but she’d survived cruel abandonment by a heartless parent and endured a life on the streets. Lacey Cameron had more grit and backbone than the whole team of badass motherfuckers prowling outside his house. She might be scared shitless, but she’d never show it. No way.

  “Tell me.”

  He glanced at the clock before answering. “They’re calling me in,” he answered somberly. She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “Search and rescue.” At that, she stiffened, but he continued. Time was moving too fast. “High-level target.”

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  He reacted to her uncharacteristic swearing with little more than a cursory nod. They both knew this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill situation.

  Flying at him from where she stood, Lacey threw her arms around him and started pressing kisses all over his face. “I love you,” she ground out as desperation vibrated off her skin.

  Responding in kind, he tried to speak between the frantic kissing. “You and Dylan will be all right. Tell Calder I’ll try to keep in touch. I think you should stay with Draegyn and Victoria. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  He was tearing the robe off her quaking body. A flash fire of frenzied desire raged around them. The flimsy camisole underneath went next. Then he simply tore her panties to shreds.

  “I need you,” she cried with soul-crushing anguish.

  Fearing he’d lose his mind if he didn’t get inside her in a hurry, Cam barely managed to sweep the desk clear before picking her up and slamming her on her back.

  Tearing open his jeans, it took mere seconds to shove the denim and his briefs down his thighs and the same length of time to push his inflamed cock into her slick heat.

  She gripped his arms and held on tight as Cam completely lost control and ferociously fucked her with an astonishing rhythm and intensity. Leaning over her, he grabbed his wife by the head, and tongue fucked her at the same time.

  Grunting wildly with each possessive thrust, he stopped long enough to grind against her. She whimpered and tightened the hold her thighs had around his waist.

  Staring into Lacey’s deep blue eyes, he jerkily growled. “I need you to come, sweet girl. When I leave here, it’s with you all over my cock.”

  “Oh my god, Cameron,” she cried huskily.

  The pulsing of her orgasm started and grew with tremendous force until her pussy squeezed him to a mind-blowing climax, and he filled her as his cock jerked and throbbed.

  Kissing her back to earth, he made all the promises a man forced away from his wife made. Telling her over and over of his love, he promised to make their separation a short one.

  He was pulling up his jeans as she sat on the desk and slid her arms and head into the camisole. She watched him shove his come-covered cock into his briefs. Her eyes met his, and a sly smile played at the corners of her mouth.

  Scooting down, she stood with an uneasy expression and reached for her robe, quickly pulling it around her. He knew the second she realized her panties were in useless tatters.

  “I don’t want you anywhere near those assholes, baby.” She bit her lip and nodded. “Stay here, Ponytail. I’m going to run upstairs and grab my go-bag. I’ll come back before I leave.” Pointing at the computer, he added, “Bring up our email and the message center for the business office. When I come down, I’ll leave something for Drae.”

  Lacey lasted at the St. John’s for three days. Long enough for a brief first contact with her husband and for all her bravado to wither and fall away.

  He was someplace he couldn’t say. Drae said that meant he was with the dark ops people. Probably in the Middle East or possibly Africa. For a conversation lasting less than four minutes, a lot of nothing was said. He couldn’t talk, and she was so busy putting on a happy face that the whole thing was uncomfortable.

  Would he be home soon? Probably not for a few weeks. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to start crying. A few weeks? A few weeks? Holy mother. Stephanie’s birthday was this weekend, and just weeks later, Dylan turned one.

  When the secure satellite call ended, she asked Victoria to give her a moment alone with Draegyn.

  Alex and Meghan were still away although at least now they were back on U.S. soil. Her husband, the father of her son, was dancing to the government’s heavy-handed tune. Drae and Tori were acting big-time strange, and unless she got some sleep soon, Lacey was afraid she’d fall apart for good.

  “I’m going home,” she told him straightaway. He tried to interrupt, but she held her hand up and plowed ahead.

  “Draegyn St. John, I am not a wimp. You do not have to hold my hand. I knew what I was getting into when I married Cameron. Please don’t try to change my mind, Drae. I’m tired. Cranky. Worried. Just let me do what’s best for m
y son and me. I want to be at home when my husband comes back. And besides, having two little ones to guard is making Raven crazy.”

  She loved Draegyn like a brother. He knew Cameron better than anybody did, and it was easy to put her trust in him. He’d let her go. Kind of had to. But she also knew he’d keep a close eye on her and Dylan anyway. That unspoken bond of Justice brothers’ mojo was powerful stuff. Cameron was counting on him, but she had to bring some sort of normalcy back to her day-to-day.

  Slinging an arm around her neck, he tugged her in, but instead of a hug, he went full noogie—lightly grinding his knuckles on her forehead.

  “Ponytail, you’re gonna get my ass kicked, lady!”

  She shoved him away with a sharp grunt and a genuine laugh. “Watch it, buster, or I’ll have to challenge you to a pole dance duel.”

  He mimed a perfect imitation of his bad arrogant self—pretending to tug on his cuffs and adjust an invisible tie.

  “The Justice men do not wiggle on poles, my dear.”

  She giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “If we want to see guys making fools of themselves, we’ll hire people to do it or find a way to trick someone.”

  Lacey rushed into his arms and hugged him tight. “Draegyn. Tell me everything’s okay.”

  He didn’t balk at all as he quickly answered. After a quick squeeze, he kissed her forehead and gave her a meaningful look. “Cam is the best at what he does. Whatever that is,” he joked with a sardonic smirk. “If ya ask me, they implanted a tracking chip in him or something because, honest to Christ, Lace, he finds the needle in a haystack and then uses it to pick his teeth clean without ever breaking a sweat.”

  “I know,” she quickly assured. What he did didn’t bother her. It was all the secrecy and ominous men dressed in tight-ass black that worried her. This was no ordinary seek and find.

  “It’s just that it scares me when he leaves the country. It’s dangerous on the other side of the world. Anything can happen.”

  Drae leaned against a counter and scrubbed a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “The world’s a fucked-up place, honey. Anything can happen right here too.”

  She said what she thought when her husband told her he’d be gone for a few weeks. “It’ll kill him if he misses his son’s birthday.”

  Substitute Big Daddy puffed up like he was entrusted with a sacred burden and told her gravely, “Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Cameron. I know what Cam wants for Dylan’s big day. He’ll be here, honey. But just in case he parachutes in at the last moment, I’m on top of things.”

  Remembering what Tori told her about the comical Dad-inspired rivalry springing up between the two close friends, she grinned and pretended to fan herself.

  “Oh, thank sweet baby Jesus. Po’ lil ol’ me couldn’t possibly plan a one-year-old’s party without professional help.”

  Drae roared at her dead-on impersonation of his Southern Belle mother-in-law.

  “Oh, and by the way, shugah? I think the ladies need to challenge you boys to a pole dance-off. Time to find out how deep that alpha nonsense goes.”

  SOMETHING ABOUT AN East Coast sunset hypnotized Alex. Maybe it was because of the city they were in and the centuries of history all around or maybe it was as simple as just knowing they were back on U.S. soil and heading home soon.

  Leaning against the balcony doors, he levered off and shut them to prevent the air conditioning from escaping. Where the summer weather was concerned, D.C. was one brutal city. Hot, muggy, and still—the place always reminded him of a sauna. He never understood how Parker put up with it for so many years. For Alex, give him the dry and sometimes brutally hot heat of the desert and he was good.

  Pouring two shorties, one Glenfiddich and one Jameson, he took them to the piano and set them aside. Meghan was still on the phone with her folks, and he didn’t want to rush their good-byes, so he whiled away his wait by giving his fingers a keyboard workout.

  Obsessed with a piano composition called “When We Met,” he worked out the fingering to the Ryan Stewart song whenever he had a moment. Knowing his wife’s predilection for a good piano tune, he fixated on this one after finding her one afternoon, lazing in a hammock at their Spanish finca, staring dreamily at nothing while this song came up on a playlist.

  There was something about the look on her face. Meghan didn’t just listen to music. She absorbed it. Seeing her far-off expression, he knew in his gut she remembered how they met and all the twists and turns they took along the way to get them where they were. Losing himself in the melody, Alex’s spirit filled as his fingers moved across the keys.

  He became the man he always wanted to be during their extended honeymoon. She’d changed him. No doubt about it.

  Didn’t matter how much pain and suffering he’d overcome after the bomb blast that nearly ended his life. Or how successful he was. None of it made a difference because he was little more than an empty husk of a man. Not even halfway living, mind-numbing data streams and a level of technology that would make anyone else’s face melt filled his days.

  That was his life. He was everyone’s favorite nerd king, yeah. But he rattled around the Villa with no particular enthusiasm or with any sort of a future in mind. He was among the living, but he hadn’t been … living. Not for a very long time.

  And then a vivacious redhead with a dreamy ass and a set of bodacious knockers that rendered him stupid came to his door and showed him just what he was missing.

  As the last remnant of that thought faded from his mind, he felt a soft, warm hand caress his neck and slide back and forth across his shoulder. Tranquility spread through his body. This was what he meant by her changing him. Alex never knew what serenity was. He was a trained warrior. As a wartime commanding officer, he’d sent good men into desperate situations. Not all of them came back, and some came back in pieces. He’d live the rest of his life seeking personal redemption for the actions his oath of honor led to.

  But if Meghan was near? When she touched him? Alex was sure the contented peace of mind she brought to his world saved his life. In many ways, he’d found a good portion of the recompense he sought with his Irish wife and her open, giving heart.

  She kept her hand on him as he played. They were really, really good at silent communication. Being connected as they were, each of them only needed to come close, and an unspoken conversation began.

  When the final notes played, his hands lifted off the keys as the melody hung in the air before eventually fading away.

  “What the hell did I do to earn a hot husband with rock-hard biceps who’s nice enough to pour his wife a drink and then serenade her fat ass with a beautiful song?”

  Fat ass. Oh, my god. When she taunted him this way, it was all he could do not to haul her fantastically curvy derrière over his knee for a sexy whacking. He snickered. Probably why she said it, you stupid fuck.

  Alex swung around on the bench and wrapped his arms around her waist as she stepped between his open thighs. Staring up into her beautiful face, he thanked his lucky stars for the millionth time for bringing this magnificent, gorgeous big-hearted woman into his life.

  “The folks get off all right? Wish they would’ve let me fly them home.”

  “Oh, don’t grumble,” she teased. “Ma loves the train, and you know my dad. He loves anything she does.”

  “I know, but come on,” he continued to gripe. “What good is it to be a big-time CEO with an agency jet if I can’t use it to impress the in-laws?”

  She snickered and ruffled her hands through his hair. “Settle down, Zorro. My parents are impressed enough without you unleashing Captain Sawyer and the Gulfstream on their blue collar butts.”

  Zorro. Good lord. Meghan’s older brother, Deval, finally stopped referring to him as a desert rat. About time too, since he’d done the right thing and married the guy’s only sister in front of half of Boston. And with Alex’s uncle, the priest, doing the deed! Backing off with the snarky nicknames s
eemed the least Dev could do.

  In a moment of brother-in-law solidarity, desert rat was retired, but in its place, a new snark-name was inaugurated. Zorro—because Dev considered the moniker to be a tip of the old Irish Paddy Cap to Alex’s Spanish ancestry.

  “Your parents pulled out every trick in their entertainment arsenal when mine went to Arizona. I think if I have to hear about the five-star treatment they received at the Villa one more time, I’m gonna hurl.”

  He chuckled. Without knowing any details, he didn’t doubt Carmen stood on her damn head for the O’Briens. Not that it was necessary. A fast friendship formed between the new O’Brien and Marquez branch of the family tree and included Parker’s folks and even Calder and Stephanie. Far as grown-ups went, those eight people were an interesting and diverse tribe.

  Hearing Meghan mention the Villa reminded Alex of the things he needed to say—stuff she needed to know before they went home.

  Pressing his face into her chest, he held her tightly and listened to the steady rhythm of her heart. She wasn’t going to be happy with him about any of it. And not just because shit in the desert was clearly off the fucking hook and speeding toward a ditch.

  His wife gave him full control when it came to all contact with Arizona during their honeymoon. How could she not? In the context of their relationship, she deferred to him when it was just the two of them.

  But had she been happy with his heavy-handed decree that she only touch base with the girls occasionally? No. And she still didn’t know the half of it. Not only had he carefully monitored the information flow, but he’d also made sure through Cam and Drae that neither Lacey or Tori let any of the dozen or so cats out of the bag that were currently causing a ruckus at home. Meghan would have plenty of time to play Lady of the Manor. She didn’t need to involve herself while they were honeymooning because all the bullshit would still be there when they got back. Plus, he wasn’t so blissed out that he didn’t realize his brotherly posse in Arizona was keeping things from him, too.