Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) (34 page)

T
HE OLD TRUCK
bounced along a winding path masquerading as a dirt road, taking him far from the Villa to a spot Alex knew quite well. An outcropping of rock so flat, it became a ledge above the valley floor where Meghan went to be alone. It was her personal meditation place.

She’d calmed down since their top-secret marriage ceremony. Far as Alex was concerned, his uncle came through for them big time. Enlisting Calder’s help turned out to be a stellar idea. The private, sacred moment his bride needed turned out spectacularly well.

Of course, it helped immeasurably that Calder showed up with Stephanie Bennett in tow. The unexpected arrival of Tori’s mother and the ensuing explosion of happiness because Calder and Stephanie got their shit together was just the duck and cover Alex needed to pull it all off. After sneaking into the Villa while everyone was occupied with Stephanie’s re-appearance, Meghan feigned an upset stomach so they could celebrate privately.

Everything was great since then, but still, he knew damn well something was up. Meghan going off on her own got his attention. And now here he was, riding out into the sun to find out what was going on.

Alex pulled up alongside her ATV and frowned. How many times did he have to beg her not to ride alone? Keeping Meghan’s impulsive butt safe was no easy task. He couldn’t even think about the time he found his Irish beauty limping back to the house after taking a tumble off her horse. Gus came perilously close to eating his fist that time. Gym teacher or not, she wasn’t indestructible, and the lack of concern for her personal safety made him crazy.

Stepping around a line of scrubby bushes, he walked toward her, assessing every little thing with each step he took. She was sitting cross-legged, her wrists resting on her knees. Back in a straight line, he admired the smoothness of her sun-kissed skin. The tank top she wore didn’t do a whole hell of a lot in the way of keeping her covered, but he saw a bottle of sunscreen lying beside her, and was instantly relieved. She didn’t usually venture into the brutal midday sun without her parasol or a hat.

Dropping down, he wrapped his legs around hers and scooted close. This was one of his favorite positions. He jokingly referred to it as Red’s Chair. Pulling her into the shelter of his embrace, she relaxed against him. His arms circled her waist, and she moved hers hands on top of his.

They sat in silence gazing out at the picture-perfect scenery. Spring was everywhere you looked. Across the valley floor, the desert was alive with green trees and shrubs. Framed against the magnificent red rock formations and a vibrant blue sky, it was some of God’s best handiwork.

He waited her out. Something he was getting amazingly good at considering how impatient and scattered he could be. In all honesty, it was an easy habit to acquire. The reward of not forcing things with his Irish goddess led to the sort of honesty that nurtured a relationship. She’d tell him whatever was on her mind when she was damn good and ready. Not one second before. The stubborn trait was one of his favorite things about her.

He angled his head to watch as three birds flew across the valley, swooping upward near the ledge where they sat before flying off. Whenever he saw groupings of three things, he almost always ended up thinking about him and his Justice Brothers.

It was the three of them … Cameron with his brooding loner life blown to smithereens by a woman, not more than a girl, who loved him despite his problems. And Draegyn. Jesus god. Who woulda’ thought he’d fall like a brick wall for a smart-tongued hellion who gave new meaning to ‘That one’s a handful.’

And then him, of course. What were they calling him these days? Big Daddy? Papa Bear? Major Mess? It was all good. Especially with his new title evening things out. Husband. Yep. That one he liked. Very much.

His hands rose and fell on Meghan’s belly as she took some deep breaths. Then she reached back with one hand and caressed the back of his head. He tightened his hold on her waist and waited.

“Don’t get mad, baby,” she murmured after a long silence.

Ah. He knew it. Something was up. But … mad? When was he ever actually mad at her?
This oughta be fascinating
, he thought. Especially since she called him ‘baby’ knowing that was usually step one to him giving her whatever she wanted.

“Mad?” he teased. “Oh, boy. Does somebody need a spanking?”

Thinking a little humor was probably in order, he’d just been yanking her chain. No way did he expect her to turn and look up at him. “Maybe,” was her soft reply.

That shut him right the hell up. This wasn’t ball-busting Meghan. His woman was in full submissive mode. What the fuck? No way was he gonna be happy about whatever she said.

“Tell me,” he urged.

“Okay.” Squirming like an awkward puppy looking for a comfortable spot, she wiggled around until she’d turned sideways and could see his face. Putting her long limbs in those damn sexy leggings over his thigh, she snuggled into his chest and toyed with the buttons on his shirt.

Did she know he was putty in her hands when she did this shit? Probably. It dawned on him that this was what his life would be like with daughters. Being Papa Bear or Big Daddy or Major Mess wouldn’t mean squat then. A new generation of baby Meghans would wrap him around little girl fingers and do it without remorse. That’s what daddies were for.

“Are you really okay with David’s parents coming to the wedding?”

They’d been over this before, and each time, he was forced to ball up. Was he thrilled that her former fiancé’s parents were a part of her family’s social circle? No. David Anderson was dead, and there wasn’t any nice or fancy way to put it. He’d been killed in the explosion that ended Alex’s military career. The bombing that almost cost him a leg and left him scarred for life.

Everyone who mattered—her parents and the guys—knew that despite being engaged, Meghan and the Kid, as the unit nicknamed David, had an unusual friendship. They’d never been intimate because he was gay. Something his death left forever unresolved. Not that anyone was revealing this little factoid to the guy’s grieving parents.

Alex worried the Andersons might view him in a negative light. After all, he was with Meghan, and their son was dead. Making matters worse, he’d been David’s commanding officer and the one who wrote the dead soldier letter they probably still had. But this wasn’t about him. Where all that was concerned, he was fucked six ways from Tuesday no matter how anyone looked at it.

No, this was about Meghan and the whole O’Brien clan. It was the bride’s family calling the shots. For once, Justice weren’t the main players. In this scenario, they’d be plucked from the desert, dropped into the heart of Irish Boston, and expected to be on their best behavior. What he did or didn’t think was unimportant.

“Sweetheart, it’s all good. I’m happy your folks will have their friends at the wedding. And besides, your dad has everything under control.”

“You’ve been talking to Dad?”

Wow. She really was distracted. He talked to Paddy O’Brien every fucking day, and though he didn’t discuss the conversations with Meghan, she was hardly unaware they took place.

He kissed her then. He really didn’t have any choice. The button twiddling, the uncommon pout, even the sound of her voice demanded he shut down the noise in her head.

She clung to him through some light nibbling that deepened into voracious kisses, which grew more and more urgent. Pulling back before he ended up nailing her right then and there, he smiled at the sigh of regret she gave. At least, there was that!

“Enough about your dad. What’s really going on?”

“Please don’t start yelling.”

“Meghan! Shit. Just tell me.”

“See. You’re already pissed off.”

“Are you trying to wind me up, woman? Because it’s working. So unless you want a midday spanking for real, I suggest you start talking.”

“All right, you big ol’ bear. Sheesh.” She ran her fingers through his unruly hair and used her hands to shake his head. “Try and remember not to upset the bride, okay?”

He pinned her in place with a baleful glare.

“The bride won’t be able to walk tomorrow if she doesn’t spill. Now.” Dammit. He could swear she just bit off a giggle. So much for controlling his woman.

“Um, you know how Angie and I are set to leave for Boston next week?”

“Yes,” he bit out. “And I still don’t understand why you have to leave so long before the rest of us.”

“Yeah, well … about that. Some things have come up and Angie and I … well, we decided it would be better if we left a little before that.”

She better be fucking kidding. “How many days constitutes a little before?”

“Oh, uh … the day after tomorrow. I already called Captain Sawyer and he’s good to go.”

“Day after tomorrow?” he started yelling without passing
Go
. “What the fuck do you mean the day after tomorrow?” Untangling from her, he jumped up and started pacing. “No. Absolutely not. I forbid it.” He looked her right in the eye as he laid down the law and found her trying not to laugh.

“Excuse me? You what?”

“You heard me. I forbid it. And I don’t give a flying fart what my sister wants. Fucking troublemaker, that one.”

His fiancée gave him the deadly stare she learned from her mother. He remembered it well. Being taken down in eyeball combat by the scariest green-eyed menace of them all was something he wasn’t likely to forget.

“Major,” she drawled with a mocking smile. “You are being unreasonable.” When she crossed her arms and cocked her hip just so, he knew she would win in the end.

Fuuuuuck.

“Come on,” he grunted. Stomping furiously to where they’d parked, he dropped the tailgate on the old Ford with a loud clang. “Put your stuff in the truck.”

She was scurrying to do just that, and since Meghan rarely rushed, he figured he must really have gotten her attention. Good. There was no fucking way he was okay with her leaving in … what? Thirty-six hours?

Nope. Not gonna happen. Nuh-uh.

Unfortunately, the upset and adrenaline coursing through his system gave him one of those false He-Man moments that he’d probably regret. Thinking he could pick up the ATV with his pinkie and toss it into the bed of the truck didn’t work out so well. Like a fucking idiot, he didn’t use caution and ended up yanking his back and hip so bad that pain started shooting all along his side.

Slamming the truck door when he got in was a distraction to disguise the anguished grunt he let out. Maybe it worked. Maybe it didn’t. It was hard to tell since she started talking before he turned the key in the ignition.

“Alex. You need to chill. Seriously, baby. What’s the big …”

“Deal?” he barked. “What’s the big fucking deal?” Honest to god. He was gonna kill Angie. “I’ll tell you what the deal is. What the fuck did we bring Angie here for? I thought the wedding planning was her job. And I don’t give a shit what’s come up. Let her deal with it. She can fly out today and do god knows what as far as I care.”

He was yelling but just couldn’t dial it back. Every time the subject of her leaving came up, he went into a funk. You’d think from his attitude that he was clueless about all the hoopla going on around the wedding, but honestly … he got it.

She wanted some time alone with her folks and then there was the shopping. There was always shopping. But her wardrobe in no way trumped the dread that overcame him at the mere mention of being apart. He couldn’t keep her safe if they weren’t together.

“I’m serious, Meghan. Unless you’re donating a kidney to your mom, there’s no reason for you to leave now.”
Mother of god.
Were those tears stinging his nose and clouding his vision?

“Alex,” she murmured in a soft, gentle voice. “I don’t understand why you’re so mad.”

Really?
Fuck.
Applying the brakes, he slowed their manic drive and threw the truck into park. Yanking off his sunglasses and tossing them on the dashboard, he turned toward her. Trying really, really hard to control the way he was coming off, he lowered his voice to something that passed for calm.

“I agreed to a week. One week. And then that one week became ten days. You got away with that because your mom intervened.” The effort to remain composed blew straight to hell. “And now, because my troublemaking sister can’t do her damn job … now, you want to add a couple more days.”

“Dammit Alex, stop bringing Angie into this. She hasn’t …”

“Oh, fuck no!” he bellowed. “I’m not an idiot. If she’d been getting shit done, there’d be no reason for you to head out so far in advance. You’re talking like, what? More than two fucking weeks? And what for?”

“There’s just a lot to do,” she answered flatly.

He scoffed and turned to glare out the windshield. “A lot to do. Correct me if I’m wrong but wasn’t that the whole rationale behind a wedding planner?”

“You’re just mad at her because you can’t get mad at me.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that, wife.” His accusing tone made her flinch. “And me being the last to know? Shows me how much you really care.”

Okay. That last was a shitty remark, but he was furious and taking names. Didn’t she understand how hard it was for him to be separated from her? Two goddamn weeks. His teeth were grinding just thinking about it. No fucking way.