“Y’know, when we were spitting the dirt and grit of that fucking war out of our throats every damn day, so many threats and so much scary shit were coming at us twenty-four-seven that I figured once we were out of that hellhole, I’d never feel any of that crap again.”
A nod was all he managed. Drae didn’t like to talk about the war. He didn’t want to think about all the fucked-up shit they did and the horrors they faced.
“But let me tell you something, man. Nothing is scarier than a mother—make that two mothers—going up one side of you and down the other with a finger-wagging performance and a raft of threats that leave you shaking in your shoes.”
Ah. He got it now. The two moms. Drae snickered. Ashleigh Marquez was someone they’d had plenty of dealings with over the years, but Maggie O’Brien? Holy Irish shitballz. That lady was one hell of a ballbuster. Getting to know Alex’s new mother-in-law while the O’Brien’s lingered at the Villa after the wedding, he had no doubt where Meghan got her grit. Cojones should be Maggie’s middle name.
“Oh geez,” he muttered. “That’s not good.”
“Tell me about it,” Cam drawled. “They sandbagged me. The lot of them. Even Parker’s fucking parents got in on it. Seriously, Drae,” he muttered. “Maybe you should have locked up the wine cellar while the AARP squad was in residence.”
He bit off a laugh. Cam had a point. Since neither of them had any meaningful parental experiences, forcing them to deal with three powerful families had been a dumbass move. Cristián Marquez said jump, and he and Cam asked how high.
Throw the equally impressive Paddy O’Brien into the mix, as well as Matthew Sullivan, and whatever alpha swagger he and Cam had diminished a thousandfold in the face of some original badassery.
“So, what? We say nothing, and when they get back and realize Finn O’Brien got left here in a timeout, we act like it’s no big deal?”
Cam growled. “That kid’s a fucker. If he weren’t Meghan’s little brother, I’d have knocked his damn teeth down his throat on day one.”
Pfft. “Word.”
They looked at each other. What the fuck were they supposed to do?
Cam heaved forward off the worktable and came back to the project they’d been working on. Lacey wanted an old-fashioned wooden rocking horse for Dylan, so Drae searched the Internet for the perfect one, downloaded the plans, and got them set up.
“Those two can’t get back here quick enough.” Cam studied the pieces they’d cut earlier and moved them around on the table. “I’m not cut out for surrogate Big Daddy shit.”
The statement was so right on and hilarious that Drae barked out a laugh. “I know, right?”
“Did you see what Finn and that guy from Pete’s got into out in the desert? I mean, come the fuck on.” He shook his head dismissively. “What those boys need is an extended boot camp. Kick their fucking asses into shape.”
Snickering, Drae drawled, “They shot up half a dozen targets. Shitheads have piss-poor aim. They wouldn’t be able to hit a seven-forty-seven parked right in front of ‘em. Calder threatened his ass. Did you know that?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. And it wasn’t pretty. From what I gathered, he and Stephanie were riding with my son when an M-80 went off close to the barn.”
“Oh, Jesus. How ugly did that get?”
Growling furiously, Drae didn’t mince his words. “Uncle Big Daddy marched in and schooled the dumb pricks while my mother-in-law stood by clutching Daniel and glaring at them in a way only a livid grandmother could. If I’d been there, the kid would have eaten my fist.”
Cam’s face registered his disapproval. Shaking his head on a deep sigh, he said, “Don’t get it. Deval and Mike? Those guys kick ass. And Meghan, well sheesh, I’m a card-carrying member of her fan club. What the fuck happened to their youngest brother? Seriously, Drae. Guy’s a total fuck-up.”
Sad but true, he thought. The O’Brien clan was, in Drae’s estimation, proof positive that great parents made strong, vibrant families. Because his parents were the complete opposite, he felt his opinion had sticking power. How he and his sister, Desirée, turned out normal was just sheer luck because his glossy print eight-by-ten parental units were miserable fucking failures.
But he shared Cam’s critique of the youngest O’Brien. Somehow, despite having amazing parents and bitchin’ siblings, Finn was a huge pain in the ass.
All of a sudden, Drae started to laugh. The chuckle grew and grew until he was slapping a hand on the worktable. Roaring with unbridled amusement, he asked Cam, “Oh fuck, man. Did you see the timeout stool Lacey wants me to make?”
With a quirky half-smile—the one Cam always had whenever the subject of his wife came up—he drawled mockingly, “Say what?”
It had taken Drae a minute or two for his composure to return so he could answer without cracking up. “Aw shit, dude. I seriously love your wife. So anyway,” he chortled while rifling through a stack of plans scribbled on paper bags, scraps of paper, and even on a piece of cardboard. Finding what he was looking for, he slapped it on the worktable and indicated that Cam should have a look.
“Timeout stool. Wood and MDF for the top and bottom. A couple of turned spindles and a clever hourglass insert.”
“That’s fucking genius,” Cam muttered as he studied the diagram. Smiling broadly, he straightened, smacked his gut, and nodded like he was master of the damn universe. “My Ponytail. She’s a smart one, huh?”
Drae grinned at his old friend. Cam was a happy man with a beautiful, adoring wife and a kid who gave Daniel St. John a run for the money in the cuteness sweepstakes. Life at the Cameron household was happily-ever-after perfect.
Unlike the picture of the St. Johns.
Fuck.
Sobering from the reminder, he purposely put the jovial tone back in his voice when he spoke. “Thinking maybe I should make two. One small, for a kid. And one bigger, for an adult. After all, the O’Brien’s dumped Finn here for a timeout. Might as well have a reminder for the little shit.”
Quiet laughter shook Cam’s shoulders. “Maybe while you’re at it,” he drawled satirically, “you could make one pink. Kind of like a princess throne.”
Okay. No way what he described wasn’t funny as shit. Drae had a good imagination, and he knew right away where his friend’s thoughts were.
“The wife being naughty again?”
“Again?” Cam shrieked with amusement. “How about still? I created a monster.” He chuckled.
Drae’s thoughts moved to his own naughty monster. The one he took sole responsibility for creating. Victoria was his match in the bedroom. She was insatiable, unpredictable, and filled with a sexuality set on simmer at all times.
Lacey was Cam’s perfect partner. Though she might be a brat at times, she did it from a princess’s throne. “How’s she feeling?” Drae asked.
Just like that, with the asking of a simple question, all the air in the room stilled. Their eyes met for a few seconds before Cam groaned and walked away from him. Drae swallowed hard. He didn’t like seeing his friend in pain.
When he got to the other side of the room, Cam turned around and sat down on the counter atop a row of deep shelves stacked with wood, tools, and random supplies.
The scowl Drae knew so well spread across the other man’s face. “She says she’s fine.” He shrugged. Wearing a skeptical frown, Cam added, “Does it make me a pussy that I want the Major to get his ass back here?”
“Fuck no,” Drae instantly snorted in reply. “They were going to fly to Boston, but with Finn stashed here and them in the dark, that wasn’t a great idea. So Paddy and Meggie are in D.C. for a quickie. Alex has meetings lined up in D.C. Important shit too. Hopefully, after that, it’s back-to-business more or less. When I talk to him, it takes every ounce of strength in my body to keep from begging them to come home.”
They nodded in unison. It was always like this where the three of them were concerned. Brothers by design—a design stronger than a blood bond—it
upset the natural order of things when circumstance separated them for long periods.
Cam spoke next, and Drae didn’t miss the hesitation in his voice. “Tori seems, um,” he stammered. Quickly clearing his throat, he continued anxiously. “Well, she seems stressed. Lacey calls it crunchy around the edges. Everything okay with you guys?”
Drae mocked Cam with a smirk. “You know damn well we’re far from okay.”
His friend met Drae’s cool expression head-on. “Wish you’d tell me what the fuck is going on. Like seriously, St. John, don’t make me give that whole ‘I’m here for you’ speech.”
Goddammit. He wanted to confide in Cam, but how the hell was Drae supposed to explain the shitstorm he was managing.
Rolling a shoulder, body language that fooled neither one of them, he answered in a tight voice. “Got stuff circling in my head.” His words didn’t need further emphasis, but he made the gesture for a gun at his temple anyway.
Cam became a solid wall of inscrutable silence. Drae knew his answer was lame, but it was all he had. Mostly, he hoped to convey that whatever was going on, it was his problem. And not his wife. Victoria was blameless.
The quiet surrounding them was veering into uncomfortable territory when loud noises suddenly erupted outside the woodshop. They turned to the sliding barn doors as the noise became louder.
“Good lord, Raven,” he heard Victoria grumble. “Settle down!”
Cam snickered at the building commotion. “Sounds like your girlfriend’s here.”
Drae was walking toward the doors when they slid open, and Raven came bounding into the shop, hurtling at him in a blur of blond fur, wagging tail, and a series of happy woofs. Completely crazed, though well trained, she came to a screeching halt at his feet and dropped her butt. With tongue hanging out and her sturdy tail thumping on the wood floor, the Labrador gazed up at him.
“Once a pussy magnet, always a pussy magnet,” Cam quietly sneered.
“Here, Tori,” his friend said as he blocked Drae’s effort to aid his wife. “Let me help you.”
His face twisted in a helpless grimace when Cam plucked Daniel from Victoria’s arms and started swinging him around like he was a monkey. Big D giggled, wiggled, and screamed with delight.
It was his wife, however, who earned most of his attention. Victoria was a fashion chameleon. She rocked a little black dress and a pair of fuck-me-now shoes like nobody’s business. Same for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. His woman looked like a million bucks no matter what she was wearing. It was Arizona in July, which was nothing more than another way of saying it was balls-hot, so today, his wife was sporting a very short and very sexy summer dress covered with tiny pink flowers. Her gorgeous mane of dark hair was jammed atop her head in a sloppy jumble and kept in place by a colorful clip. He wanted to do dirty things to his hot little wife in her cute dress. Things that would make a lie of the endless stream of bullshit in his head.
She shot him a flirty wink and made a little moue with her lips. He knew the expression. It was her ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look.
Drae grimaced inwardly. She might correctly guess his lascivious thoughts, but she had no idea the struggle he waged to keep those impulses in check.
“What are you boys up to?” she asked.
Cam tossing their son around was an entertaining distraction. Victoria came to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Why does he have to giggle so much? Is that a boy thing? The daredevil inside coming out?”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. His lips lingered for a second as he breathed her in. “Sorry, honey. He’s a St. John. You’ve got a future of bungee jumping and rock climbing to look forward to.”
She smacked him playfully. “Oh, great. Just what I need. Like there isn’t enough rowdy guy stuff going on around here already.”
“Word,” he joked with a mocking chortle.
“What this place needs—what you men need—is more female energy to even things out.”
Cam stopped tossing Daniel in the air and held him close. “Hold up, sister. More female energy? I thought you gals had that shit covered.”
Victoria laughed and hugged Drae tighter. She and Cam excelled at playful banter. When the two got going, it was highly amusing.
Wagging a finger, she used her lady growl for further emphasis. “Was talking about little girls. Yeah, sure, we smoothed some of y’alls’ rough edges, but you still outnumber us. Frankly, all that alpha shit is exhausting.”
Drae stiffened at her words.
“No. We need some pink ribbons and girly dresses to balance out things. Pretty sure Lacey is praying for a daughter next.”
“What about you two?” The question was a deflection. A deflection Drae wanted to murder Cam over. “Doesn’t Big D need a baby sister to torment?”
In the blink of an eye, the mood changed. Victoria unwound her arm from Drae’s waist and turned to him with a brittle smile on her face. “Mom is coming for the baby. She’s taking him into town for story time at the children’s library.” And just like that, the joking chitchat ground to a fast halt. Mood swing in progress.
Cam was observing their interaction. Drae considered giving him the finger.
“Do you mind if I drop and run? I promised Lacey I’d help her with the PowerPoint for the new family life center.”
He felt like a dick but hadn’t even done anything. Not really. It was the tinge of hurt and uncertainty he heard in his wife’s voice that let him know she wasn’t happy. He didn’t want to hurt her—hadn’t meant for any of this to happen—but not even hearing her pain was enough to dissuade him.
He adored Victoria. So much so, that any suggestion of losing her or being without the love of his fucking life rendered Drae heartsick. Feeling stuck between a rock and a hard place, he simply banished all doubts. He’d consider almost anything to keep his family intact. Even if that meant doing something he knew would crush his wife if she ever found out.
PARKER’S DESK WAS a certifiable disaster zone. So much shit cluttered the work surface that he had to push a grab bag of mismatched Star Wars keepsakes out of the way just to locate a pen. Next to the pen was a miniature lightsaber. He reached for the electronic toy, pressing a switch to make the Jedi apparatus hum to life.
Amazing. No other thought existed in his head except that.
Because he couldn’t help it, the lightsaber swung into action. Engaged in a mighty battle with the forces of evil, he waved it with a flourish and added a few sound effects. It was the middle of the day, and he was in his very impressive office doing his very important job—and playing with a lightsaber. Amazing.
Dropping the toy to the side, he reached once more for the pen and shook his head to refocus. He was a lawyer, goddammit, and needed to pay fucking attention.
Swiftly tapping on a keyboard, his computer screen lit with open windows. Searching for something, he clicked open a program and sat back with a surprised grunt when the distinctive sound of Darth Vader’s heavy, mechanical breathing boomed from the system’s speakers.
Holy fuck!
Seriously?
His eyes rolled heavenward as a broad grin broke out on his face. Angie. His hot, sexy, and very much younger than him Desert Angel shook up his previously well-ordered and staid life in ways he never expected.
The grin got twice as wide when he started putting the pieces together. She’d need help to pull off fucking with his computer’s sounds. Especially if it was done remotely. And that could mean only one thing.
Victoria St. John.
Yep, he thought with a nod. Tori and the rest of those damn Justice ladies seemed to live just for the fun of screwing with him and every other warm-blooded male in a thousand-mile radius. Individually, they were lethal, but they were scary as fuck when they got together.
Of course, a St. John would stand at the epicenter of his girlfriend’s squad of mayhem-makers. Why the hell not? Parker didn’t doubt some karmic retribution was at work, and justifiably so
. He’d been a thorn in Draegyn St. John’s side and vice versa for decades.
Work forgotten for the moment, he relaxed in the enormous leather chair and spun around to gaze out the window at another brilliantly sunny Sedona day. His thoughts were already firing up a retrospective of memories—ones starring his nemesis and main competition.
That’s right. Competition. Parker chuckled at the comical notion. From the second they met for the first time, he and Drae had engaged in a duel-to-the-grave battle over which of them held the top spot in Alex’s affections.
A real laugh shot from him. Alex’s affections. Jesus Christ.
It was back in his Department of Justice days while his oldest friend was neck-deep in military shit. The sort of stuff Parker barely understood. Whenever Alex was in the States, he’d make a pit stop in D.C. It was their thing. They’d meet up as if nothing else was happening, as if they each weren’t fighting the war on terror, to have dinner, drink, smoke, and shoot the shit.
Lifelong compadres, Alex was in his DNA. That was how close they were, and he wasn’t really including the whole secret affair with the man’s little sister. So when his BFF turned up in the company of a pinup guy with a laughable name, Parker recalled being instantly bent.
What started then had never really ended. Though they openly ribbed each other and laughed about it now, a shitload of truth concealed itself in all the kidding around. They were like teenage girls fighting in perpetuity over the team captain.
They’d even come to blows on several occasions, including a particularly memorable boxing match made even classier by far too many tequila shots and way too much energy.
The truth was he and Drae shared equal parts of the Major—the man they mockingly called Big Daddy. Alex, for the most part, found their antics endlessly amusing.
Parker was the original. The Marquez and Sullivan families were closer than close, which made him and Alex brothers.
Draegyn, on the other hand, was Alex’s warrior second—a distinction Parker maintained enormous respect for. While he knew in his heart that he’d give up his life for his best friend, Drae had lived it.
Unchained Page 2