Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (10 page)

The past year had been a hell of a ride for all of them, starting with Cam, who’d been the first to fall. Lacey’s arrival at the Villa had been just one of many changes that would come their way. Along the way, Cam became the go-to guy for all matters in the husband and father department.

Was kind of ironically fitting in a way, considering the backstory of the man known as Cameron Justice. Orphan, foster kid, teenage hooligan with a badass reputation and an attitude to match got his ass handed to him but good during a couple of tours in a war zone. Damaged and cynical Cam seemed like the least likely of the three of them to embrace love, settle down, and be a family man.

On the other end of the spectrum were he and Draegyn—both privileged trust fund snots from affluent families who never had to worry about anything. Drae had been expected to submit to a politically and socially correct business merger carefully disguised as a marriage. As a result, it seemed highly unlikely that he was all that interested in happily ever after.

So, Draegyn had pretty much fucked his way around the globe, relying on an aura of danger and sophistication that made the ladies line up for a chance to sample the man’s famous seduction first hand.

Shit,
Alex thought. He’d been shaking his head over Drae’s exploits for years. But just as with Cam, legendary ladies’ man Draegyn St. John crashed and burned in spectacular fashion once a little witch with a very smart mouth gave him the
what what.

And now here he was, right on Cam and Drae’s heels, completely and utterly obsessed, infatuated, crazy about, gaga over, and down on his knees in lust and love with an amazing Irish goddess.

Meghan.

A shot of excess energy propelled Alex up and absently prowling the room in an effort to block the tiny flame of worry that thinking about his fiancée sparked.

Something had changed over the last ten days, but he couldn’t really explain what that meant. Nothing specific or glaringly obvious had happened that sent up any red flags. Mostly, he was operating on a feeling. And not even a clear-cut feeling. This felt more like a nagging in his gut that he couldn’t pin down. Something was going on with her, but try as he could to find clues, he kept coming up empty. In fact, watching her tap dance around doing an
Everything is Awesome
routine was part of what was bothering him.

That was probably why he’d been feeling melancholy about Cam’s absence from the Villa. Fearing something was off with Meghan was making him edgy. He really wanted to talk to Cam and get his input.

Aw, fuck it.
Not even Cameron’s quiet intensity and great advice was going to make any difference. He needed to hear from Meghan what was going on. She’d already confessed to impulsively stopping birth control. Excited by the little bombshell, he used the making babies ploy to get inside her twenty-four seven, so
Nah, that wasn’t it.

The only way to get a handle on what was happening was to go to the source because he took seriously the well being and happiness of the woman he intended to marry.

W
HAT WAS IT ABOUT THE
Arizona sunshine that always made Angie feel like no matter what was going on, everything would work out? Maybe it affected her so because it was something she closely identified with her childhood. In her world, a sunny day was a blank canvas of endless possibility.

She’d ridden out on horseback into the desert early, plodding along, sometimes breaking into a short trot—and for a time, the clamor in her mind and the heaviness around her heart eased off.

When she was a kid, she couldn’t wait for the weekend. Not because she didn’t like school. On the contrary, she’d always been an excellent student, but from her earliest memories, Angie recalled being at the Villa with her grandparents at every opportunity.

She, Alex, and Sophie had grown up in a sprawling ranch-style home near Sedona. Her grandparents had a house nearby but once the Villa had been completely renovated and updated, the enormous grand hacienda and the thousands of acres of beautiful southwestern heaven had immediately become Marquez home base.

A smile tugged at the corners of Angie’s mouth remembering the summer she’d been allowed to work as a stable helper. She’d been eleven and thought going to a job a couple of days a week was the gateway to instant adulthood. Boy! Had she learned a lesson!

This was Arizona, after all, and that particular summer had been hotter and drier than the waiting room to hell. Spending long days sweating her ass off in a barn full of animal smells and running around outside in the brutal sun kicking up dust from the hard, dry-packed ground was far from the glamorous imaginary world she thought would greet her as a budding grown-up. But it gave her a chance to wander out into the desert on her own every day to exercise the horses. It was during that oddly transformative summer when she’d developed a real affinity for this little corner of Arizona.

If the last week had shown her anything, it was that this instinct to connect with her roots was as strong as ever. It was harder and harder to deny that she belonged here.

Pulling her mount to a halt, Angie slid from the saddle, dropped onto the canyon floor, and took a long deep breath. Flinging her arms wide, she burst out with an earthy coyote howl that ended on a laugh when she got nudged from behind. Turning, she stroked the horse’s neck and let the mare put her face close to hers. They were sharing a moment.

“Next time, I’ll sing,” she mumbled out loud. The horse whinnied and shook her head—which Angie took as agreement. Along with being in the desert, Angie’s second guilty secret pleasure was music. All music. Any music.

A definite advantage to having baby boomer parents was their eclectic musical tastes. Throughout her childhood, she’d been exposed to it all. Rock ‘n’ roll, musicals, theater, jazz, classical, church hymns, cowboy tunes, motown. You name it. Each of her siblings played at least one instrument. They were a musical bunch. Not quite the
Sound of Music
family but close!

Angie’s specialty was anything with a string. She played the guitar, violin, banjo, and had attempted to master the harp with little success, but that hadn’t stopped her from trying. She could make music on a zither, a ukulele, and a mandolin. She could also belt out a tune as capable as any of those kids on
Glee.

Singing in the middle of the desert without anyone around for miles was just the coolest thing ever. Any kind of music, especially live music, out in nature was something that actually moved her, even as a youngster. She remembered singing
Afternoon Delight
a cappella with her mom and Soph during family car trips.

The heartwarming memory suddenly blasted into a zillion pieces when
boom,
another memory filled her up. Parker played the guitar. He sang, too. Played the piano, as well. And the harmonica.
Goddammit.

Rubbing her face affectionately against her horse’s muzzle, Angie sighed repeatedly.

Yeah, she played the guitar all right. And had taken lessons because that was what Parker did. If he had played the bassoon and thought marching bands were cool, she would have, too.

Angie realized a long time ago that her infatuation with the older man shaped the person she became. Would she like different music, maybe prefer being a vegan to an unabashed carnivore if it weren’t for him? It was hard to say since their lives had been so intertwined from such an early time.

I mean, shit!
She ended up studying international affairs and going to college in D.C. because that was where he was. From the moment Parker landed at the Department of Justice, she’d begun researching colleges in the East. There had been a lot going on with her family during that time and being the youngest meant that nobody was really paying attention to what she was up to. Not with Alex in Afghanistan, Sophie starting grad school, and her parents’ sudden decision to move to Spain taking center stage. Hell, she could have sat at the dinner table and announced she was going to clown school and nobody would’ve blinked.

So, she went for it. Balls out. Her folks thought she applied to a handful of Ivy League schools, but the truth was she’d only ever submitted a single application and that was to Georgetown University. In her teenage mind, once she hit eighteen and was an official ADULT, all she had to do was be around Parker and he’d magically fall under her spell and they’d live happily ever . . . oh,
whatever.

She snorted louder than the horse and kicked up some dirt with the toe of her booted foot.
What a stupid kid she’d been.

Sure, she’d been accepted to the college of her dreams. She’d even moved into a small studio apartment in an old building that catered to students because she’d convinced her parents that being in a dorm would lead to too much distraction. The truth was that argument had nothing to do with grades or studies. Angie’s fertile imagination had worked up some cozy, private love nest scenario where she could show the charming lawyer how awesome life would be if they were together.

“What a fucking joke.” She groaned aloud.

From the moment she was on her own in the nation’s capital, Parker became her de facto protector. He showed her the ropes, taught her how to get around in the city, where to buy groceries, places and areas to avoid. Day one, he rather arrogantly planted his flag in Mount Angelina and declared himself king of the hill.
Shithead.

And so it went for two whole years. She threw herself into the Georgetown experience, determined to get the most from her time at the prestigious old school and who was with her the whole way? Right by her damn side? Parker.

Over time though, their friendship started to change. They were in a unique situation, bonded by family ties, more than comfortable with one another, and most importantly, out from under the restraints of having family around. Completely off in a world of their own, Angie and Parker pushed the boundaries at every turn.

Flirty looks. Tongue-in-cheek text messages. Casual touches on an arm, a hand low on the back, playful nudges. Hello hugs and good-bye kisses that were right on the line. Naughty chats late at night.

He always managed to be around whenever she went out. Watching her. He said he was just keeping her safe while she had fun, but to Angie, the interest felt more possessive than protective. That was where she made her mistake.

It was probably inevitable that they’d end up having sex. Hell. Angie all but served herself up to him on a silver platter.

But she’d been overwhelmed by his enormous sexual appetite and unprepared for what that kind of intense physical involvement would do to her spirit.

On a soulful high, her head swimming with romantic fantasies fueled by the gritty sexuality her dominant lover unleashed, it had come as a severe shock to her system to hear him describe their involvement as an uncomfortable nuisance. She hadn’t been the same since. In that one horrible moment, her whole world had been wiped out.

He thought she was mad at him. Who the hell was that man kidding? Mad. That was what he came up with? She whimpered softly and grimaced. Looking at the rocky formations in the landscape glowing vividly red, Angie blew out a harsh sounding sigh.

His calling her position one of anger only magnified the fact that for him, their intimacies had been a blip on the radar and nothing more. And that, she realized with blazing clarity, was what the real problem was.

She’d come home to find out if it was time to return and decide once and for goddamn all what her true feelings were for her brother’s best friend. It hadn’t taken long at all to find definitive answers to both those questions. The joke was on her. It had taken all of a nanosecond to realize that she was still in love with him. Had in fact been in love with him from what seemed like her very first breath. The soul-deep connection was disconcerting.

“Oh, my dear sweet baby Jesus,” she moaned into the vast silence. Bending over, she grabbed her knees while her head exploded as a firestorm of confusion crippled her.

Believing Parker to be her one true love, it came as a blow that he apparently wasn’t on the same page and had blown off their involvement as something to be mad about.

Truth was, she’d been crushed. And not just because her lover had declared their liaison to be unsatisfactory, but because . . .
well, hell
—because it was Parker and their relationship had been so much more than just a few weeks of naked Olympics. Or so she’d thought. It had destroyed her foolish romantic heart to overhear his harsh opinion spoken so rudely.

She’d cut him off rather ruthlessly after that awful day when everything changed. Denied all contact until he gave up trying. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined him being such a dick, but even so, her mind refused to accept the notion that he’d used her for the sex. Confused, hurt, tormented, and in an emotional freefall from losing her anchor and best friend, she’d simply turned all that emotion into action and focused on getting her degree. Fuck him. She’d show that bastard someday what a mistake he’d made. Thing was, that day was here, but all she wanted to do was curl up on his big lap.