Unchained (42 page)

“Maybe you could read some of it to me. Help me understand.”

“Tell you what, big guy. I’ll choose the story, and we’ll meet in the studio. You can practice and then well, you know …” She laughed suggestively. “A bit of tying up and then you do the reading. Out loud. To me.”

“Sounds hot.”

“Thunder Cock like?”

“You have a wicked mouth, wife. And yes, Thunder Cock like very much.”

“Good,” she exclaimed with a cheerful hoot. “It’s a date, Major Marquez.”

“M
EESUS
M
ARQUEZ,”
C
ARMEN
squealed with unabashed delight. “Meghan! You look fantastic, amiga! Abrazo! Abrazo!” she cried as Meghan flew into the older woman’s warm embrace.

Alex heard his wife’s choked greeting. “I’ve missed you.”

They continued to embrace as Ben walked past him and rolled his eyes heavenward.

With his longtime housekeeper barely sparing him a glance as she and his wife headed for the house, he chuckled at how far down in the pecking order he was now that a full-on ladies’ squad was in Family Justice.

Loosening his tie as the natural heat of a scorching summer day grabbed him by the balls, he joined Ben at the trunk of the limo. Uncharacteristically miffed because no greeting party was on hand to welcome him home, he looked around at the empty driveway and wondered aloud, “Where the fuck is everybody?”

Usually, the circular drive was a cluster fuck of vehicles with cars, trucks, and motorcycles parked along the edges or pulled over on the patch of landscaped green. Everyone always parked wherever the hell they pleased with the firm caveat that the area closest to the Villa’s walkway was left clear for his and Meghan’s use.

Ben hauled a couple of suitcases from the trunk and stacked them beside the car. A van would be along later with the insane amount of cargo they’d hauled from Boston to Spain to Washington D.C. and now to Arizona.

He stopped stacking long enough to put his hands on his waist and follow Alex’s visual once-over. “Sure is hard to get used to, huh?”

“What am I getting used to?” Alex bit out. “Everyone find someplace else to hang out?”

Ben snorted. “If only. Nah. This place is still ground zero, but Miss Remy, she won’t have it. The unorganized parking lot from hell does not work for her.”

Alex nodded and said, “
Hmph
. And they listen? Interesting.”

“One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen happened right here.” Ben gestured with his head as he looked around. “Told Ria about it because I almost wet my pants.”

He pointed at the low rock wall on one side of the walkway. “So Calder parked over there one day. A bit too close to the shrubs. He was driving the Sprinter van. Remington threw a fit. The little lady went up one side and down the other. Your uncle was quite literally speechless as she freaked out about some hundred-year-old vines and what a lazy ignoramus he was for parking in the driveway.”

“You’re serious,” Alex replied.

“As a heart attack,” was Ben’s dry answer. “After that, your new transportation director laid down the law. No parking in the Villa driveway. Everyone has to park at the garage. We added a couple more carts, those bigger Polaris things because she doesn’t want everyone damaging the environment or some such bullshit. Here at the Villa, cart parking is outside the kitchen door.”

What? Talk about changes. “So people come and go through the kitchen now? Not the front door?”

“Pretty much. Well, family at least. Visitors and guests still use the front door, I suppose. Not much in the way of company, though, while you’ve been gone.”

“Okay. So no parking. Understood. But where the hell is everybody?”

“Well, let’s see,” Ben said with a thoughtful look at the empty driveway.

“Obviously, Cameron’s not around. Ms. Lacey came by earlier, but Dylan was grumpy. Teething, I think. So she went home for him to nap.”

Got it. And? Alex was starting to feel impatient and out of sorts. What happened to the choruses of ‘come home quick?’

“Draegyn is in Flagstaff for the day. He’ll be back before dinner.”

Flagstaff? What the fuck was he doing in Flagstaff?

“Justice business?”

“Not that I’m aware of. He’s been there a couple of times.”

All of Alex’s antennae went up. His mind stilled, and he focused like a laser on Ben’s every word and movement. The man was leaving breadcrumb trails a yard wide.

What should he ask? Something deceptively simple would tell him a lot. “Does he drive himself?”

Of course, he drove himself, and he knew it. I mean, shit. Ben was standing right there. But in answering he was pretty sure, he’d have another tidbit in the trail.

“Yep. Takes the Lamborghini, too.”

He started counting back from ten and made a real effort to control his breathing. It wasn’t so easy, though, to tamp down his thoughts and immediate reaction.

Motherfucker.
The Lamborghini? He thought Drae’s go-to pussy magnet accessory had retired a while ago. Tori crying on the phone begging Alex to come home, and now this. What the fucking fuck was going on around here?

“And Tori? Where is she while her husband takes in the scenery?”

There was no way to overlook the meaning and emotion Ben gave to his response. “Mrs. St. John,” Ben began slowly.

Aw, jeez. When old Ben got formal, something was up.

“She is in her office. At work. Got the D-Man with her. It’s a scheduled data dump day.”

“So she’s here?” Alex asked. “In the bat cave?”

“Yes, sir. Waiting for you, I imagine,” he added with a side-glance.

“Thanks,” he said shaking Ben’s hand and patting his shoulder. “It’s good to know you have our back.”

Alex’s declaration startled the older man, and he shuffled uneasily. Guys never felt at ease when emotions were on display.

“Ria would do unmentionable things if I didn’t. My old lady seems to think your wife is some sort of magic spirit sent to sprinkle goodness and light over all of us. All hail Double M!”

“Can’t say that she’s wrong about that,” Alex admitted. “My wife has changed everything around here in ways she barely understands.”

“Word.”

Alex laughed at the man’s use of the trendy idiom.

“So Tori’s hiding at work, Drae is cruising in the Lambo, Cam is M.I.A., and Lacey has a teething baby on her hands. Keep going. How about my houseguests? Calder and Stephanie? Are they also hiding or sightseeing?”

He silently watched as Ben decided what to say.

“Something is going on there too, I’m afraid.”

Mincing words was a waste of time. “Anything to do with the St. John situation?”

“Yes and no.” Ben looked around uncomfortably and lowered his voice. Who the hell did he think was listening? “Um, don’t rag on the ladies for this, Major, because here’s one time when gossip is probably helpful.”

“Go on.”

“Well, the way I hear it, Ms. Stephanie was over in Betty’s office for a meeting with Cheryl Prescott. Long story. Something about a party business or midwives or some women’s crap like that. I dunno. Didn’t care about that part of the story. Anyway,” he continued in a rushed murmur, “in stomped Ms. Tori barking about someone named Carol. Wanted Betty to check and see if the name pinged in the system. It didn’t, and she left right after. I guess her mama chased after, and they got into a row. Ever since, Ms. Stephanie has been in an awful funk. The wife says she’s got the meno-blues.”

“Oh, great.”

“Right? So Calder stepped up big time. She keeps having these episodes. Not fainting but damn close. He got an appointment and took Ms. Stephanie into Sedona for a checkup. He’d have been here otherwise, but you know how he is. She walks on water far as he’s concerned.”

“Family first,” Alex murmured in agreement. He still didn’t know why they were talking in hushed tones, but it added emphasis to what he was learning.

Digesting the wealth of information Ben eagerly imparted, he took a minute or so, and then a red haze of suspicion and anger hovered in his thoughts.

“Who the fuck is Carol?”

“Nobody knows,” Ben answered with a shrug. “The ladies are all in a dither, of course. Doesn’t look very good for Drae.”

Yeah, no shit.

“So that leaves my brother-in-law since I already know Brody and his gang settled nearby. What’s young Finn O’Brien up to? He too busy being a butthole to be here and welcome his sister home?”

“To be honest, Major,” Ben drawled. “He’s not around here enough to know squat about what’s going on. Bet a dollar he doesn’t even know you’re homecoming was imminent.”

Not around? What the hell did that mean? “Do I want to know where he’s hiding?”

“Definitely not.”

Plainly said. This was not going to go down easy. He was sure of it.

“All right, ya grizzled old shit,” Alex playfully grumbled, “just say it. I can take it. Well, maybe ‘cause I can think of a couple of things I couldn’t take.”

“Well, Major,” the other man said. “It’s like this. Seems he prefers the greasy spoon kitchen at Pete’s. Either that or he’s a serious drinking man. Not sure which.”

“Pete’s?” Alex barked. Incredulous, he shook his head to clear it and bellowed, “As in Whiskey Pete’s?”

Ben bobbed his head and made a grim face. “Yep. You heard it here.”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Alex growled and eyed the door of his house. Shit. He was going to have to explain this to Meghan.

“On that note,” he groused, “unless there’s more I need to hear, I have some damage control to do.”

“It’s good you’re back, Alex.”

He smiled. Ben rarely called him by his given name.

Throwing some humor into the less-than-funny situation, Alex grumbled petulantly. “Swear to god. There had better be a brisket in the oven or your wife is fired.”

“Now, what do you think, Major?”

Ben’s happy laughter followed Alex as he made his way along the familiar walkway past plants and the structures his ancestors had placed. Didn’t matter at that moment how much of a shitshow things were. It was good to be home. With his bride. Good to be back where they belonged, where their future waited.

Leaning with her butt against a counter, Meghan had one arm around her waist as she held a glass of lemonade in the other. Listening to Carmen enthusiastically prattle on made her heart so happy.

She glanced around while nodding at everything the excited housekeeper said. This was her home. She was Señora Valleja-Marquez. Doña Meghan as the lovely townspeople near their finca in Spain had respectfully called her. And just like generations of Valleja-Marquez brides before her, she would leave a mark on the beautiful old hacienda. She suddenly wanted to run upstairs, greet Abuelita’s portrait, and tell her all about the wonders Meghan had found in the proud old grandmother’s home country.

Her tummy fluttered again, and she slid a hand out to grip the counter.
Eating something may have been a smart idea
, she thought, while doing the time zone calculation to figure out her body’s clock.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her man approach. God almighty, he was handsome. Nobody, absolutely nobody, walked like her Major did. He didn’t swagger or strut. And he didn’t amble without a destination in mind. He walked like he approached life. Straightforward. No wobbling. Strong. Powerful. Passionate.