Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) (72 page)

“Is there something you want to tell your husband, wife?”

Huh? Tell him? Tell him what? In a confused voice, she said, “I love you?”

Alex grabbed her hand and forcibly yanked her off the bed. “Hey!” she protested as he dragged Meghan across the room. Taking her to the blue velvet couch in the living room, he sat down and got her face down and ass up over his knee in record time.

“Alex!”

His hand came down on one side of her bottom. She flinched. “I don’t remember giving permission,” he drawled.

His spankings followed a pattern. First a swat and then he’d rub the spot. Then the other side. Back and forth. Swat and rub. Swat and rub. But this time when he moved to the other side and smacked her with a tear-inducing whack, and she whimpered, as he started to rub the cheek, he stopped and said, “My, my. What have we here?”

Oh, my god. The tattoo! She’d actually forgotten.

“Is that a griffin I see on my wife’s ass?”

She turned her head and met his eyes. “Surprise,” she weakly muttered with a sniff.

“Is this why you left my bed early? To put ink on you bottom?” His hand came down again, just as hard, and she jumped only this time when he rubbed her ass, she squirmed and pressed her legs together to ease the building ache.

“It’s from your family crest. I wanted you to know. To see it when you …”

“When I what?” he growled as he spanked her again.

She was squirming for real now. “From behind,” she moaned as a wave of fresh arousal coursed through her. “When you take me …”

He cut her off with another heavy swat. As he rubbed the pain away, he murmured, “When I fuck you ass up and face down?”

Unf
. “Yes.”

Another fierce swat sent shards of heat racing into every corner of her being. She shuddered as he rubbed then slid his fingers between her legs. Finding her wet, he grunted.

“On your knees, wife. Chest on the floor. Present yourself to me.”

Meghan was shaking all over as she crawled onto the luxuriously carpeted floor. Collapsing forward, she felt the cool air hit her exposed pussy and whimpered.

“Wider,” he demanded. “Knees wider.”

She did as he asked and then gasped when he leaned over and kissed the tattoo that symbolized his ownership. In a deep sexy voice, he told her, “I love your surprise, wife.”

She wiggled her bottom in invitation.

He laughed and swatted her bottom again. “Naughty wife. You get that I’m going to fuck my Irish goddess like a slut, right?”

She giggled then replied in a husky voice, “Yes, sir. Please, may I have another?”

And so began the marital journey of Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Valleja-Marquez.

H
EATHER WAS EXHAUSTED
after running through the park twice. Once wasn’t enough to dampen the nervous energy pumping through her system.

Two weeks flew by since she came back from Boston. Two weeks of solitude to deal with her thoughts.

She’d been to see her therapist and told her about Brody and his missing daughter. Thinking she was going to get some solid support and maybe some advice on how to deal with her careening emotions, she wasn’t in any way prepared when the doctor looked at her and asked, “Did you ever grieve for the child you lost?”

What? Grieve for the child? What was she talking about?

“It wasn’t like that,” she’d rushed to explain adding a shrug and a blank look to hopefully put an end to that line of questioning.

“Like what?”

Well, shit. She was a therapist and couldn’t believe she’d walked right into that one.

“Heather,” the doctor said a bit too kindly. Kindness had a way of making her defensive when these things were discussed. “You suffered a miscarriage. You know the drill. Holding your feelings in because you think they might be messy isn’t how you heal from something.”

A miscarriage. Jesus. Something else she hated. The damn word made her see red.

“I didn’t have a miscarriage. I had a sick, violent husband, who I never should have married, beat the holy snot out of me. He broke a rib. Fractured my cheek. And killed the child inside me. I don’t know what fucking word covers all that, but believe me,” her derisive sneer said it all. “Miscarriage is not it.”

“So did you grieve,” she’d asked again.

“There was nothing to grieve. The child was spared living with a violent, abusive father. In some ways, he or she got the better end of the deal.”

The doctor nodded. The kind smile on her face remained. “Jason took a lot of things from you, Heather. Your confidence. A sense of security. Your child. Are you going to let him take your future too?”

That question hit a bit too close to home and Heather thought she might cry.

“What if someone you loved came to you tomorrow and said I have a chance to be happy with a good man who loves me. A chance to have the family I deserve. But I’m afraid. What would you say? What would your advice be?”

Heather sat there and thought long and hard. Glancing out the window, she noticed a bird perched on the branch of a tree full of spring promise. Wondering what the seasons were like in Arizona she considered finding a good book with field pictures of native birds.

Arizona seasons? Native birds? Oh, my god. THAT’s what her heart revealed when nothing left remained to tangle up her thoughts and emotions?

Raising her eyes to the doctor’s, she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

They shook hands and shared a brief hug. Heather never felt so peaceful and centered.

“Good luck in Arizona. Let me know if the weather is good and the cowboys as hot as I hear!”

When she got home from her run, the first thing she did was check her email and phone to see if there were any messages. The Justice ladies had been so sweet and kind, keeping her as up-to-date as possible with whatever they knew and asking about her well-being. Carmen even sent a care package of goodies including a Justice coffee mug that she used every morning for her tea.

George was following her around in a funk. As if he knew something was up with Brody, all he did was plod along after her. She knew how he felt.

Dashing into the bathroom for a quick shower, she put on a soft pink sleep cami and a pair of pajama shorts. Spritzing her favorite perfume into a cloud over her head, she walked through the mist and inhaled. Being with Brody released the force of her femininity. She’d even indulged in a full mani-pedi, massage, and leg wax a few days ago.

“Stephanie says pampering is a good thing,” she muttered out loud.

Pulling on a short cashmere robe, her favorite, she belted the deliciously soft fabric and headed into the kitchen. Fluffing her hair after pulling out an elastic band, she inspected the contents of her fridge and prayed for inspiration.

She could always whip up some eggs. Maybe a nice fluffy cheese omelet. Oh, goody. There
was
bacon. Yay!

Pulling what she needed out of the fridge, she was getting things set up when the doorbell sounded. George’s head snapped up, his ears flopping adorably as his head turned and looked at the door.

“I’m with you, boy.” She chuckled. “Who’d just drop by?”

When she opened the door, she was pretty sure the floor dropped out from under her at the same time. There in the hallway looking rather rough around the edges and like he hadn’t slept in days was her cowboy.

“Heather,” he groaned. “Help me.”

She froze. “Oh, my god. What’s the matter? Is everything all right? Are you hurt?” Her eyes flew up and down his body twice looking for clues. She saw none.

“Do you still love me?” he asked hopefully.

Heather gave him a happy smile. “Sorry, cowboy,” she drawled. “Y’all are stuck with me now.”

He broke out into a wide grin. She went to hug him, but he stopped her and said, “Um, there’s somebody you better meet.”

He stepped aside, and at first, she didn’t understand what was happening. She saw nothing and then the slightest of movements behind his leg caught her attention. She scooted to the left and looked around him.

Huddled in the corner next to her door was a bedraggled looking waif clutching a filthy stuffed animal. Heather sank down into a crouch and smiled. “Hi sweetie. Who are you?”

The child said nothing. She just huddled closer to the wall and stared at Heather with wild, frightened eyes.

“Honey,” Brody said quietly. She heard the tenderness in his voice. “This is Mia. She wants to be called Bella. I gave her the choice of any name she liked and that’s what she chose.” The child looked up at him and the tiniest of smiles appeared on her dirty face.

“So,” he said brightly. “I’d like you to meet my daughter. Bella Mia Jensen.”

Bella Mia. Heather’s heart filled with emotion. This homeless looking little girl with a head of hair that hadn’t seen a brush in maybe forever and an outfit that screamed Salvation Army was a real beauty.

“Bella, sweetheart. This is Daddy’s girlfriend. Her name is Heather. Can you say hi?”

Heather tried smiling, but she could see the child was overwhelmed and probably a lot scared.

Brody murmured by way of explanation, “She doesn’t say much.”

God. No shit. Looking at her, she couldn’t imagine what the young child had been through. And then the most awesome thing happened. George, who’d been obediently waiting to be acknowledged, came trotting into the hall. He looked at Brody, made a soft woof, and then went over to Bella. She shrank back, at first, but George persisted, sniffing her head and nosing the decrepit stuffed toy.

With a look at Brody and another at her, George plopped down next to the little girl, licked the side of her face and hung his tongue like all this was normal.

Bella said, “Doggie.”

Brody beamed.

Heather scratched Georgie’s head lovingly then held out her hand to Bella. “Hey. Guess what. I made cookies earlier. And I bought some new bubble bath that’s pink! Wanna come in and check it out?”

A minute ticked by with no response, but she never wavered. Just crouched at Bella’s level with a smile on her face and her hand hanging in the air.

Brody was motionless. The future felt like it was knocking on the door.

Finally, Bella said, “Okay,” and hesitantly put her hand in Heather’s. She honestly thought she heard the universe pulse with approval.

Brody coughed back what she knew without looking was some pretty heavy emotions.

As she led Bella Mia into her apartment, she laughed and told her, “Oh and you know what else I have? A stuffed doggie on my bed that your daddy gave me. I think he needs a friend. You wanna give him a name and take care of him?”

She felt her cowboy’s hand on her shoulder. He squeezed and stayed close by her side.

“Um … Dave?”

Heather almost tripped over her own feet. Dave? Really? What an odd choice. Brody leaned close and whispered. “Dave is a minion. We watched
Despicable Me
on the plane.”

Ah, that Dave. Understood. “Sure, honey.” She laughed. “Dave it is. Now, give Daddy a little wave and let’s go take a pink bubble bath.”

“Cookies?” Bella asked.

Like any wise parent, she smiled into the little girl’s face. “Bath first. Treats after.”

Bella hesitated. “Okay,” and just like that, the future opened up before them.