Always (Family Justice Book 1) (54 page)

That didn’t mean he knew what in the hell to do about his complicated life on the other side of the country. Truth was—he was stuck. Couldn’t move forward in any direction and certainly couldn’t go back. Not until he knew for sure about the kid.

Calder put a beefy hand on his shoulder and pushed him down into a chair. The men gathered round him. It felt like a fucking intervention. Or an interrogation. In either case, he was screwed.

Drae was running his thumb and forefinger up and down the sides of his mouth, thinking. A pensive look on his face. Brody knew that when it came to picking apart the cold, hard facts of any situation, St. John was the go-to guy. Man had a mind like a steel trap.

Gus and Ben were hovering in the rear while Calder sat on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed, waiting.

It was Cam and Alex who held his attention while Drae gathered his thoughts. Alex had settled into a rigid pose, his face blank, and Cam just sat there, his mouth open, staring.

Drae approached him like a courtroom prosecutor. “So…bottom line. You have a daughter, and she’s not back East so when you leave here—it’s not because you’re off playing part-time dad somewhere.”

Uh, sure.
Fair enough. He nodded.

Then the questions rained down on him like a sudden gulley-washer.

“How old is she?”

Brody sighed and held up four, then five fingers.

“Where is she?”

“Dunno,” he grumbled.

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

Drae snorted and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh really? You’ve met us before, right?” he bit out, pointing furiously between the three of them. “
Complicated
is our agency motto. I think it’s even in the fucking logo, so don’t waste time blowing sunshine up my skirt.”

“Sorry, sir,” Brody muttered. When he saw Drae stiffen, he realized that when a voice of authority barked at him, he immediately defaulted to military mode.

Drae softened his manner and asked, “Explain why you don’t know where your five-year-old daughter is.”

Fuck. If only an explanation were possible. Four years after the fact and Brody himself didn’t know the real explanation. Oh, he knew what he’d been told, but figuring what was truth and what were the lies in this situation was a problem.

He groaned, “Ugh,” and put his head in his hands as he leaned forward. Sitting back, he shook himself mentally and just went for it.

”Okay. So here it is. My girlfriend got pregnant. I managed to be stateside when the kid came. Had four months and then the SEALs sent me on a deployment. While I was away, she wrote to me, said the kid wasn’t mine and that she was leaving San Diego to go live with her new boyfriend. Some fuck-nut named Simon. Said she was sorry for being a cunt but that she had to follow her heart.”

Every man in the room groaned or hissed. Solidarity was a good thing.

“By the time I completed my service commitment and got home, she was long gone.”

“Was the child yours or not, Brody?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. She was mine. Never had a test or anything—didn’t know it was necessary but for real, man. The kid was like a fucking doppelgänger when you put our baby photos side by side.”

“Why would your girlfriend leave?”

God. Draegyn St. John could be such a prick. Brody knew that part of the story was the weak link in the chain.
Fucker.

“Okay. First of all. No fucking judgment, alright? I was young, completely SEAL brainwashed—ready to eat it at any second. Wasn’t looking for happily ever after or the girl next door.”

Calder mumbled, “Oh, this is gonna be rich.”

“Tracey was an exotic dancer.” The admission filled in a hundred blanks and was deserving of the dead silence that descended.

Eventually, Drae coughed, smacked his hands together and rubbed them back and forth. “Alrighty then. Here’s what we have. Navy SEAL with an R&R hard-on and his exotic dancer, um,
girlfriend
, have a kid and play house for a couple of months. Your ass gets shipped out and next thing you know, Tracey, I fucking hate that name by the way,” Drae interjected, “sends you a poison pen fuck you, takes your kid, and hightails it to who knows the fuck where.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this a couple of years ago, man?” Alex criticized with a deep frown. “I mean, fuck, Jensen. You
do
know that this is what the agency does, right? Locate people. Get to the bottom of things.”

“I know,” he apologized solemnly. “At first, I was just too fucked up in the head to even think about it and now, well…now. I just want to know the truth.”

Cam, who had stretched back in his seat, his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed looking like he was ready for a siesta, spoke up. “Tracking is my superpower. I’ll find her, dude. Make no mistake about that.”

After that, the seven men sat and talked quietly for a bit until Drae finally had enough.

“Think the ladies are finished whatever they’re doing? It’s late and Victoria is probably beat.”

Brody looked at him and saw nothing but an eager husband, yearning for some alone time with his new wife. It was the reminder they all needed that this wasn’t about his shit-tacular personal life and that a celebration was going on.

SHE WISHED SHE KNEW What was up. When the men had invaded Tori’s baby shower they’d been lighthearted and funny, but Stephanie sensed an undercurrent of something else was going on.

And now here it was, the following morning, and though she had given in and consented to go riding with Calder, he’d been strangely silent and lost in thought most of the time.

They were plodding along letting the horses wander when curiosity got the better of her.

“I was thinking about getting a tattoo,” she informed her riding companion. “Something big and obnoxious on my chest. Like a couple of teddy bears dancing across my tits.”

Nothing.

“What do you think?”

He looked up, but she couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses he had on. His mouth, however, was set in a grim line that made her uneasy.

“What?” he asked.

“I said, what do you think?” she asked the question just as sweetly as she could, giving him no clues what she’d been talking about.

“Oh, uh…” he answered. “Sounds good to me.”

Stephanie pulled her horse to a dead stop then slid efficiently from the saddle, landing in between her mount and Calder’s. Gripping the reins in her fist, she yanked off her baseball cap and impatiently smacked it against a thigh.

She started walking away from him, mostly to clear her mind because anytime Calder was nearby, her senses essentially scattered. Distance was needed if she was going to survive this ride without screaming at him.

He trotted slightly ahead and stopped in her path, jumping from the saddle with a soft thud. “Okay,” he sighed. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

“What’s going on, Calder?” she snapped. “Ever since last night you guys have been putting off some pretty strange signals. And you? You’re a million light years away. If you didn’t want to ride with me, you should just say so.”

He didn’t waste a moment, just stomped right up to her, grabbed her around the waist with one arm, and hauled her against him. Colliding with a whomp, she gasped and he simply took advantage of her open mouth surprise to kiss the holy hell out of her.

Stephanie’s arm clung around his neck as he devoured her response while he bent her backward.

When he’d effectively silenced her, he stepped back and gave her a serious look. “Just so we’re clear, I want very much to ride you.” She did not in any way miss the way he’d manipulated what she’d said to convey a very different meaning.

“If I’m distracted, any of us, it’s just an agency thing. No big deal.”

Was that a good enough explanation? Actually, yes it was. She understood how what the agency did could sometimes lead to more than just distraction. Whatever it was, she had enough on her plate and didn’t need to add any more.

“Will you go into town with me tonight, Stephanie? I’d like to take you to dinner. Away from prying eyes.”

The man certainly had a clever way of changing the damn subject—but who was she to complain? He was asking her out on a date. A date, for Christ’s sake! She felt like a giggly teenager.

Smiling, she lowered her eyes, embarrassed by the flood of heat she felt snaking up her neck and onto her face. Damn. Why a blush, now?

“I’d like that.”

He put his fingers beneath her chin and lifted. “Wear something sexy and don’t forget the shoes. I like shoes.”

Stephanie burst out laughing. Had she hit the jackpot? Did Calder just say he liked shoes? Oh, Lord! They were a match made in heaven.

“GOOD MORNING, WIFE,” DRAEGYN MURMURED between the soft kisses he was covering her face and neck with. “Mom’s gone riding with her beau, and we’re all alone,” he teased.

Tori smiled. “Oh goody,” she chirped in a half-awake, half-asleep stupor. “So we can run around the house naked?”

“Whatever turns you on, Mrs. St. John.”

God. Would she ever tire of hearing him call her that? Probably not. Shifting her weight around under the covers, she tried to find a comfortable position but gave up the minute that familiar urge to pee made her shiver.

“Help me up, would you?” she asked with a groan as she tried to sit up.

“Relax, honey,” Draegyn assured her. “I’ve got this.” He rolled off the bed, came to her side, threw back the covers, and scooped her up. “Next stop—bathroom,” he kidded her.

She pouted from her position in his arms.
How perfectly unromantic
, she groused. Wake up the morning after your wedding only to be too pregnant to move and then need help maneuvering to the toilet.
Fucking great.

When he slid her gently onto her feet, she couldn’t help but wince. Peeing was just one of her problems. All through the night, she’d tried to sleep, but that dull tightening in her belly was worse than hiccups that wouldn’t let up. Standing only made it feel worse.

“You okay, Victoria?” her husband asked quietly. “You look exhausted, honey.”

“Bad night,” she murmured as she pushed him away. “Give me five minutes, Draegyn. Please.”

She saw the conflict on his face. He knew she wasn’t herself and didn’t want to leave her. Truth was, she didn’t want him to leave, either, but peeing in front of her sexy husband was a definite hard limit.

“I’ll be right here,” he motioned with his head indicating the other side of the door.

After he had left, she slumped like a blob of gooey putty onto the toilet. Emptying her bladder helped a little with the discomfort, but she was reluctantly ready to admit that she just didn’t feel right and that maybe they should speak to their doctor.

Shuffling miserably from the bathroom, she let her husband take over, submitting silently to him getting her dressed and presentable. On their way, hand-in-hand, to the kitchen for some breakfast, she suddenly and without any warning freaked the hell out and started crying hysterically.

Picking her up and carrying her hastily into the baby’s suite, Draegyn sat in the big overstuffed chair by the windows and cuddled her close.

“Oh God, Victoria. Something’s wrong. I can feel it. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

She became angry and swatted his arm with a murderous thwack. “Something’s wrong? You can feel it? Tell you what’s bothering me,” she cried. “Are you fucking kidding? This from a man who kept silent when his pregnant wife asked those same questions just a few days ago? I h-h-hate you,” she choked in an inconsolable sob.

He didn’t say anything, which was probably for the best. This wasn’t the first pregnant shit storm of emotions he’d endured. She quieted after a bit and sat sniffling, dejected, and cranky on his lap.

“Sorry,” she whimpered when some remnant of composure returned. Tori had to bite her lip, hard—to keep a fresh onslaught of tears at bay.

Draegyn hugged her close. “I know, little one. No sorry necessary and you have every reason to hate me.”

“No, I don’t,” she grumped. “Don’t say that.”

He pushed her hair away and tried on a smile for size. “Honey, you’ve been pregnant pretty much the entire time we’ve been together. And why? That was all me. This baby,” he told her as he circled her belly with his big hand, “didn’t get in there by itself.”