Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (13 page)

Angie grinned as the women nodded and chuckled at her playful description.

“So, fine! Let them keep track if it makes them happy. But you can keep things interesting by taking advantage of a score stacked against you.”

She let that comment sink in until she saw Tori’s head snap up, her face lit with humor. Angie wasn’t in any way surprised that naughty Victoria got there first.

“Oh! You mean like demerit bargaining? You know!” She laughed, looking at all of them for agreement and understanding. “Demerit bargaining! Like . . . take five points off if I make nachos and let you watch the game without interruption! Get it?”

Meghan burst out laughing. Apparently, baby Dylan also thought it was hilarious, which only got Lacey giggling like crazy. Yeah, they got it.

“Hey, Ang,” Tori drawled. “Speaking of demerits, I hear you’ve got an epic shit ton of them stacked against a certain rebel lawyer who shall remain nameless.”

Angie gasped. “What?” she shrieked. “Who said that?”

“No good?” Tori squeaked. “Oh shit, Angie. I’m sorry. I mean,” she paused and looked at Meghan and Lacey for help, “everybody knows you’re pissed at him or something. Hell, Carmen mentioned that Parker has been avoiding the Villa and Draegyn, well . . . he’s dealing with Alex’s side of things.”

Meghan rushed over and put an arm around her shoulders for a quick hug. “It’s okay, Angie. You’re among friends here. And just so you know,” she said with a nod to the other women, “what we say during ladies’ time stays off the record. Fuck! If we didn’t have each other as a sounding board and for support, it would make dealing with our men impossible. Understand?”

“Parker Sullivan is a boob,” Lacey blurted in a sanctimonious sounding voice that got Meghan and Victoria falling over laughing.

“Direct and to the point!” Tori yelped gleefully.

Angie couldn’t help but laugh along. “I can’t imagine any way he could bargain his way out of the serious deficit he’s earned. Some points are permanent.”

“Angel, honey,” Tori drawled. “You have come to the right place to talk about permanent points.”

The skin on the back of Angie’s neck prickled, hearing Victoria refer to her as Angel, but instead of squirming at the reminder, she felt warmth circle in her belly.

“Each of us here,” she continued, gesturing with her head to the others, “can tell you plenty about that. It’s something we’ve all faced.”

“Sometimes,” Lacey chimed in, “you have to zero out and start fresh. Not all
uhhh
. . . demerits are equal.”

Angie was humbled by who she was in the presence of. The men these women were referring to weren’t your average run of the mill guys. She’d heard stories of their wartime exploits and she wasn’t stupid. They each bore scars and not just the external kind like her brother carried. Their women had to be strong enough to accept that. Suddenly, she felt like an idiot bemoaning some hurt feelings when they had real shit to contend with.

“Alex says you hardly ever come home. Is that because of Parker?” Meghan asked.

Angie nodded hesitantly. It was the first time she’d admitted Parker was the reason for anything.

Lacey plunked Dylan into an impressive baby apparatus that looked like a mini circus. The happy baby scooted around in his spinning seat and ended up staring at her with a slobbery grin. Damn, the kid was cute. He had dark hair like Daddy but his eyes? They were all Lacey. She and Cameron certainly made beautiful babies.

Kissing her son on his head, she looked at Angie. “Alex treats Parker like a brother. He’s part of Family Justice. I’m surprised they’re that close if you and he are . . .”

“Nobody knows,” she was quick to assure Lacey.

“In the interest of full disclosure, let me jump in here and say that the Major knows
something.
He just doesn’t know what.” Meghan’s knowing nod spoke volumes.

“Well, he’d certainly have more than a clue after the scene I caused the other night.”

Tori looked at her excitedly. “A scene? There was a scene? Irish!” she squealed at Meghan. “You’re holding out on us.”

“Shush, Tori,” Meghan waved at her dismissively. “Hush. I want to hear more about how nobody knows. Doesn’t know what exactly?” she asked pinning Angie to the spot with a penetrating stare.

“Can I tell you something without you freaking out or running to my brother?”

“Unwritten rule number four-oh-seven. Unless there’s danger or safety is an issue, we never tell.”

Angie said it quickly. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she wanted to make it painless and as instant as possible.

“I’m thinking about moving back to Arizona. Permanently.”

Meghan blinked heavily like she was trying to translate a foreign language. Lacey said, “Oh, wow!” while Tori clapped quietly with a huge grin spreading across her face.

Shrugging self-consciously, she went back to observing Dylan’s antics. “Like I said, I’m just thinking about it. Lots to take on board, you know?”

“Oh, my god!” Meghan yelped. “You could help with the expansion! We’re going to need a PR person. Hell, we need one now, don’t we, Tori?”

“Are you kidding? Shit, Angel! That would be epic! I know he’s not here now, but your Uncle Calder just signed on the do R and D for Justice. And with the compound under construction, now would be the time to build you a bungalow somewhere around the Villa. Come on, senõrita! Join the club.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, ladies,” Angie laughed. “I said
thinking!
Y’all are gonna have me moved in and buying bath towels before I’ve even thought it through.”

“Do you sing? Or play an instrument?” Lacey asked out of the blue.

Astonished at the unusual question, she barked, “What?”

Meghan giggled.

“We have this karaoke thing we do. It’s loads of fun, and I thought if you sang then you could join us,” Lacey clarified, studying her carefully.

“Whiskey Pete’s,” Tori drawled.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Angie asked. “You sing karaoke at that shithole?”

“Yeah,” Meghan cut in. “We were going to go check out the competition tomorrow night. Gotta keep one step ahead.” She laughed.

“We call ourselves, Ass, Boots, and Sass.” Tori pointed at Lacey who wiggled her butt. “She would be the ass.”

Meghan was chuckling. “Irish over there wears the boots.” Tori laughed with a jaunty salute. “And I, of course, bring the sass.”

“I fucking love you guys,” Angie crooned with delight. “Yes, I sing. And I can play the guitar. I’ve never done karaoke, but I’d love to try.”

“Hey!” Lacey cried to Meghan. “Have you taken Angie out to the spot?” She looked enthusiastically at her and smiled. “It’s where we go sometimes to practice,” she clarified with a serious expression. “Out in the desert.”

Meghan smiled. “No, but now that I know you have a musical background like your brother,” she told her with a wink, “I’ll be happy to introduce you to our special spot.”

Wow,
Angie thought.
Singing in the desert.
The universe was throwing all kinds of signs her way.

“Y
OU KNOW, IT ACTUALLY
IS
a whole hell of a lot easier to ignore an elephant in the room over the phone than in person.”

Parker knew it was just a matter of time before Alex said something, but he was content to wait him out. He preferred for his friend to ask all the questions ‘cause there was no fucking way he was volunteering dog shit. The truth was bound to come out eventually, but until it did, he was walking on eggshells.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” he answered. They were wrapping up a long call about the endless legalities of the Justice expansion and all he wanted to do was get off the phone and go back to sulking.

He and sulking were old friends now. Ever since Angie came back, all Parker ever seemed to do was work like a madman and sulk. No in between. Basically, it felt like he was circling the drain.

“For the record, shithead,” Alex snapped. “I resent being forced to ask, but since you seem to be on your period all the fucking time, I’ll be the one to man the fuck up. When were you planning to tell me that my sister was going to shit a literal brick when you turned up? I asked you to be my best man, you fucker! If something was going on with you two, didn’t you think I should know this before you two started a fist fight at the altar?”

Jesus.
Nothing like laying the whole case out there in the opening argument. Maybe it was Alex who should have been the lawyer because, at that moment, Parker didn’t know what the fuck to say.

“
Uh,
what has Angie said?”

“Really?” Alex griped. “Answer a question with a question? What the fuck, Parker? Can you take two seconds please to remember who the hell you’re dealing with?”

“Look, Alex, I know we need to talk.”

“Do you?” he asked none too nicely. “Because you’re putting off an awfully strange vibe for someone who is supposed to be my oldest friend.”

Damn. Now what did he say?

“I,
uh
. . . think this might be your sister’s story to tell. That’s all. Really.”

“Swear to Christ, dude, if your shit starts affecting Meghan, I’m going to kick your fucking ass.”

Well, fuck. This got messy fast. “Do you think it would help any if I tried talking to Angie?” Shit. He’d do almost anything at this point to try and fix this mess.

“How the fuck do I know?” Alex barked. “Depends on what you did to her, I suppose. And what the hell with all the Euro-drivel about that douche nozzle she was going to marry? All of that seemed directed at you, fuckface.”

Even over the phone, Parker didn’t miss the cold chill in his friend’s tone.

“I could use your help here, man,” he admitted.

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” Alex muttered angrily.

“I need to talk to Angie. Alone.”

There was a long pause and then Alex told him, “I’ll see what I can do. I’m trusting you, Parker, because of who you are, but if you do anything to hurt my sister . . .”

“I know,” he assured Alex. “And if it helps any, I’d take a bullet for her.”

“Strong statement.”

“Agreed.”

“
Hmmph.
You’re still a dick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Alex paused. “Oh, did I mention? We’re all piling on at Pete’s tomorrow night. Carmen and Ria are treating the girls to a babysitters’ night so they want to go see who’s on the microphone.”

“Will she be there?”

“You’ve met my sister before, right? Spotlight. Microphone. Music. Hell yeah, she’ll be there.”

Meghan felt wretched by the time she got home. Not even hanging out with the girls and spending time with her baby nephews had taken the sting out of her earlier reaction to Alex’s demand to know what was wrong.

She’d done a terrible thing by running from him and worry had been eating at her ever since.

The house was quiet, and the minute Meghan stepped through the front door, she smelled something wonderful coming from the kitchen. She was so spoiled these days. Carmen and Ria, Alex’s longtime housekeeper and cook, ran the Villa and oversaw the practicalities around the compound. Betty handled the business office and Ria’s husband, Ben, was the resident master-of-all-trades.

Her life had certainly changed since that day more than six months ago when she knocked on the front door of Villa de Valleja-Marquez for the first time. It was bizarre to have someone else handle the cooking and the grocery shopping. Just as crazy as dealing with a housekeeper who sometimes picked up after one of her and Alex’s naughty romps and who also did their laundry without comment. Meghan’s never-ending wardrobe of sexy lingerie had to raise an eyebrow or two.

Climbing the distinctive wide stairway to the second floor, she made her way quietly to the master suite. The entertainment system was on and she just barely made out the sounds of some hard rocking oldie coming from the speakers. She smiled. Only Alex would relax to AC/DC. Meghan flipped the system off figuring the second she appeared, he’d be finished with the relaxing portion of the day anyway.

Glancing into his side of the wardrobe, she spied his usual clump of clothing piled haphazardly on a bench. A half-empty tumbler sat nearby that she sniffed and smirked at.
Glenfiddich. Bah!