Unchained

by Suzanne Halliday

  Upon learning that Pete had asked for Finn’s help, Parker swiftly engaged. “Why would he ask you?”

  Angie tried not to sigh but couldn’t help it. For a lawyer with years of courtroom experience, he certainly wasn’t showing much civil diplomacy at the moment.

  Finn’s angry glare made her uncomfortable. She understood what it meant to be the youngest sibling. People tended to be dismissive for no reason—as though the older kids had used up all the interest and support. Maybe everyone was viewing Meghan’s troublemaking brother through jaundiced eyes.

  Parker was such an exhausting alpha at times, but young Finn gave as good as he got. The two men stared each other down, and she had to admit, it was impressive to witness. Her opinion of the younger guy increased because not many men had the balls to challenge her boyfriend.

  “When you write your report,” Finn sarcastically spat out, “you can add that, lo and behold, the little brother has actual skills. Pete asked me, you obnoxious prick, because I have a couple of years of firehouse cooking under my belt. Only Ria has more direct experience in an industrial kitchen than I do. Satisfied?”

  “You snarky son-of-a-bitch,” Parker snapped as he tried to dump her off his lap and stand up.

  Holding up both hands—one at Parker and one at Finn—she barked, “Stop it! Now!”

  Stupid Finn didn’t heed the warning. “Whatareyougonnado?” he yelled as tempers flared. “Plan on punching me, Sullivan? Need a lawsuit, do you?”

  What the hell was wrong with these two? Before she found an answer, Parker really did send her flying off his lap as he hastily stood up, shoved her behind him, and grabbed Finn by the shirt.

  “You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since you got here. What the fuck is your problem, dude?”

  Within seconds, the entire male component of Family Justice converged on them in a tight semi-circle. Drae with an angry expression. Calder looking like he just wanted to slug somebody. Anybody. Brody’s fierce expression promised a heavyweight match-up. Even Ben, normally calm Ben. He too wore an expression that didn’t bode well for Mr. Finn O’Brien.

  There was an explosion of testosterone as people started shouting. Lacey and Tori had expressions of pure shock on their faces, and Heather resembled a fish out of water as she stood there with her mouth opening and closing.

  What the hell was it about this guy that got the men so fired up? She didn’t get it.

  Well, fuck. Now what should she do?

  Angie joined the group of astonished faces when Remy calmly stepped right into the middle of the alpha fracas, put two fingers in her mouth, and made a shrill whistle that stopped everyone in their tracks.

  “Okay, gentlemen. Timeout. Children are present, so how about you not re-enact North versus South?”

  Angie knew she and the quirky woman were going to be great friends when Remy crossed her arms, glared at the men who were now hanging their heads and shuffling their feet, and tsk’d like a den mother.

  A bunch of exasperated mumbling followed. Words like punk, asshole, and prick floated around, but nobody engaged beyond some verbal shit talking.

  “Ladies,” Remy called out. “Come claim your men.”

  One by one, each of them stepped forward and led their growling alpha away. It was truly funny the way the men stomped back to their seats.

  With everyone settling down, only Finn remained odd man out. Until Remy walked up to him, whispered something that made his eyes flare, and then walked away.

  ‘Go after her,’ the romantic inside Angie urged. She watched him as he glared at Remy’s back, and then like a switch was thrown, he nodded twice and followed in her wake.

  “What the fuck is your problem, Beantown? That chip on your shoulder so big you have to provoke everyone into wanting to knock it off and you down?”

  Never had she ever been happier to be a girl because, honest to god, men in a group demonstrated the skillset of chimpanzees arguing over a single banana.

  And it was exhausting.

  The explosion building around Finn and the way the Justice principals reacted to his presence had been all sorts of fun to watch right up until it got aggressive. One look at the worried frown Brody’s kid wore, and she knew it was time to step in.

  “Me?” Finn barked. “Why the hell do you think I have the attitude? These guys are the biggest group of motherfuckers I’ve ever met. They’ve been lined up against me from the moment I got here. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Roll over and take it?”

  He had a good point, but she wasn’t about to let him know it. Even being a newb, it hadn’t taken her long to figure out that all the Justice head honchos regarded the Major’s new brother-in-law as a huge pain in the ass. And that was before he even arrived, so yeah. The deck had been stacked against him from day one. But the dude needed to learn some damn people skills if he wanted to get past the bad attitudes.

  “Nobody is asking you to roll over and take it, Finn O’Brien. But how ‘bout you start with showing some damn respect? These are not the guys to tangle with, and I don’t mean to imply you’re a pussy. All I’m saying is maybe it’d be a real good idea for you to find out who these people are before you hang them without a jury trial.”

  “There you go again. They’re good people. They’re being judged. They’re just misunderstood. Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she bit off a sharp retort. “Fuck you, ya big baby. I’d say the exact same thing to all of them about you, so stop being such a wuss and grow up.”

  His tall, jeans-clad figure stiffened. She didn’t as much as flinch. He was in for a serious surprise if he thought she was going to cower. She drew back in self-defense once before and paid a heavy price for it.

  “Where’s your little boyfriend? You leave him at home doing the dishes in his French maid’s uniform?”

  As far as digs went, that one was pretty lame. She was sorely tempted to throw it back in his face but held her tongue. Let him dig the hole even deeper. Would serve him right once he realized what a butt-fuck he was being.

  “Why do you always lead with an insult? Lack of confidence? Irish stick shoved up your ass? Or …”

  His eyes flared. That was the only warning she got. Next thing she knew, he had her pinned against a wall with a sturdy thigh shoved between her legs in a way that felt like she was balancing on a ridge of muscle.

  Crushing her against the unyielding stucco at her back, he claimed her lips in a boldly arrogant kiss that stole her breath. His mouth dominating hers, she sensed a strength and hardness in his lips that Remy found more persuasive and exhilarating than she was happy to admit.

  When he raised his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes, she whimpered with dismay. Finn O’Brien was obnoxious and conceited. The last thing she expected was to feel regret when he stopped kissing her.

  This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

  They stared at each other in stunned silence. Neither of them moved a muscle. She didn’t know what to do, and he wasn’t making any effort to speak, so eventually, the shock of their actions melted into the awkward quiet.

  Separating, he stepped back, and she threaded some of her hair behind an ear while her eyes darted around taking note of where they were. A dimly lit hallway. The noisy dining room was behind them, and it looked to her like they were standing next to an office door. Private but public. Anyone could have seen them.

  A thousand defensive insults crowded her thoughts—all of them wanting the first crack at Finn. Cocky bastard. Who the hell did he think he was kissing her like that? Why she oughta …

  And then Remy noticed the expression on his face. Horrified was the first word that sprang to mind. Repulsed, the second.

  That sound? It was every ounce of self-confidence she had being sucked right out of her.

  A cacophony of painful memories turned up the volume inside her.

  You fly better than you kiss.

  Kissing you is like tonguing a st
atue.

  A warm, sweaty hand covering her mouth. Her screams as she choked on them.

  Never again. Never, ever again. Sidestepping her present-day tormentor, Remy mentally lowered an iron door inside her that slammed shut with an ominous clang and took off for the safety of the crowded dining room.

  “ARE YOU SURE you want to do this?” Drae wasn’t sure he was okay with the idea of his wife strapped into a harness leaping out of a building eight hundred feet above the Vegas Strip. He didn’t care that the jump was a controlled descent or that someone was waiting on the bull’s-eye below to help her through the deceleration and landing.

  “I can’t believe you don’t.” She chuckled.

  He wasn’t insane. Having spent a good deal of his adult life in imminent danger of mayhem and destruction, he held a dim view of adrenaline pursuits.

  The jump coordinator was running her through what to expect as he adjusted the wrist cam she had on and joked around with a laughing Victoria until Drae was just about to his breaking point. When he suggested they get away and clear the air, Drae envisioned a weekend in Sedona—just the two of them. He’d even decided to take a leap of faith and try to discuss a long-range vision for their family.

  What a fucking idiot he was for letting Victoria handle the arrangements. Effectively hustled and outmaneuvered by her and Lacey, they were on a plane headed for Vegas before he had time to catch his breath. It had been downhill since then.

  Instead of the logical, serious left brain side of his wife, Drae found the other side of her personality putting him to the test. The one that was wild, spontaneous, and too fucking curious for her own damn good.

  Avoiding the weekend private jet clusterfuck, they flew in on Thursday afternoon. She’d been hyper and excited during the flight, something he attributed at least partially to being away from their son for a couple days. Stephanie was good for babysitting the occasional overnight, but this was the first time they’d left Daniel for so long. On the ride to their hotel, her excitability changed to balls-out horny wife. Appearing the perfect lady, she’d worn a modest sleeveless dress and some killer shoes, but quietly announced as the limo pulled from the curb that she forgot to wear panties and would, therefore, be screwing his brains out the second they got to the M.

  Somehow, she made it sound perfectly reasonable that having no underwear required sex as the answer. Answer to what, he didn’t know, but that was how their getaway weekend started.

  Had she kept her promise? Totally. And just like he had days before, wild man St. John kicked his sensible side to the curb and went for it. There was a long cushioned bench in the vestibule of their suite. One minute after he’d tipped the holy fuck out of their room attendant to get him on his way, she was pushing the bench away from the wall and undoing the decorative belt on her dress. When her cute ass shook as she wiggled the tight sheath up over her hips until it was bunched around her waist, he swore the heavens opened, and the angels were singing. Not only wasn’t she wearing panties, but she’d also gone for a full wax. She looked so goddamn sexy and delectable in those wicked high heels with her pussy bare.

  “You. St. John,” she purred with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Pants off and on the bench, pronto.”

  He barely hesitated. The truth was she had no idea how turned on he was by her dominant side. It was cute as shit—his feisty little wife trying to be all big and bad around him. One surefire way to break his control was by giving in to her desires. Victoria St. John didn’t take no for an answer.

  So she fucked him into heart-pounding oblivion—there on the velvet bench right inside their hotel room. They were still dressed, only naked from the waist down, which added a certain crudeness to the coupling, and their behaving like sex-starved maniacs.

  It was all good, he figured, until a couple of hours later when she announced they had VIP passes to the Britney Spears show at the Hard Rock.

  The Britney Spears show.

  Jesus Christ.

  At one point during the extravaganza, while Victoria bumped, shimmied, and twirled along with the pop star, he’d glanced at the guy next to him. Just like Drae, the dude was holding a purse and standing guard over a woman who looked older than Victoria but was just as animated and clearly into the whole stupid thing. They rolled their eyes, sighed deeply, and in his case, barely managed not to grit his teeth as the stage show wore on.

  It was more of the same after they returned to their luxury suite at a hotel off the Strip. Their room had a breathtaking view of the Las Vegas valley and the twinkling lights of the Strip. The perfect backdrop for making stark naked wild man love to his mate with her tits pressed against the window as he took her hard and slow from behind.

  Were they talking? Trying to work on their issues? No. They were screwing. That and eating, being pampered, and running around town doing every crazy activity his wife could find.

  This was how he found himself at the top of the Stratosphere as his woman prepared to jump off the side of the tower. He’d let himself get talked into her manic need for excitement when she pouted and promised to go zombie hunting with him afterward.

  Laser tag zombie hunting. They were working on their issues. Yeah, sure.

  Tori couldn’t remember ever being this scared. When she stepped onto the small platform with her jump coordinator right at her back and looked out over the Strip below her, twinkling in the setting sun, a moment of crushing doubt grabbed hold.

  What the hell was she doing? Oh, my god. She had a son at home. Jumping off buildings wasn’t something any sane, responsible mother would do, right?

  These days, she didn’t always feel like she was rowing with both oars in the water. Maybe that explained why she was hundreds and hundreds of feet above a busy highway dressed in a jumpsuit and trussed into a harness with a Go-Pro on her wrist.

  Knowing her husband was growling and chewing on iron nails as he watched her get ready to fall gave her a completely false sense of bravado. Was she trying to prove something or make a point? Tori wasn’t sure anymore.

  “You ready?” the jump coordinator shouted close to her ear.

  She looked down. Oh, my god. Then she looked up at the darkening sky, saw the moon in all its shimmery silvery glory, nodded, yelled, “Let’s do it,” and stepped off the edge of the platform.

  Instead of screaming like a lunatic, after the first shocking rush when her brain realized she was falling, Tori started to laugh.

  “Hell yeah!” she hollered into the sky as the bull’s-eye platform became bigger and bigger the closer she got.

  The moment when the zip line began to decelerate her jump, she screamed, “Woot! Woot!” and gloried in the sensation of being slowly lowered onto her feet.

  “That was fantastic,” she gushed enthusiastically to the attendant who caught her. Emotions rushing out of control from the adrenaline rush, she was babbling like an idiot as he unhooked the apparatus.

  High as a kite, she rushed into the building to get the video of her jump and the picture they took right before she went over the edge. Another couple was laughing and checking out the cell phone pics of their jumps, and she heard the guy, a tatted up hipster with a very impressive beard say, “Hehe, wouldn’t have had a single regret if I went splat at the bottom.”

  Whoosh! The pendulum of her emotions swung from sky-high excitement and laughter to a precipitous plunge into guilt, regret, and a disbelieving conscience lambasting her with a brutal scolding.

  Probably the exact wrong time for Draegyn to appear with that unhappy frown he seemed to wear twenty-four-seven.

  She wished he’d get mad at her for being so stupid. Wanted him to go alpha on her ass and put her in her place. But he wouldn’t. She already knew that. Aside from the times when he took her like a madman, he came off like a robot programmed to be polite, civil, and freakishly in control.

  Tori snapped.

  “Why the hell didn’t you stop me?” she angrily accused as he came to her side. He pulled up short at her fiery
outburst.

  Shoving the flash drive with the jump video into her purse, she snatched the bag from his hand, fixed him with an accusatory glare, and marched off as he stood there shaking his head in disbelief.

  With every step she took, Tori felt an explosion building inside. Behind her, she heard Draegyn plead, “Victoria, come on. Slow down.”

  Slow down? Ugh, lord. She was so sick of him and his slow down, chill out, be cool façade. Nothing rattled him. Ever. The more unglued she got, the more self-controlled he became. She was starting to feel … managed. Played.

  The only time she had so much as a glimpse of the powerful, arrogant man she fell in love with and married was when she put her bitch cap on and played bedroom slut.

  Draegyn caught up with her and took hold of Tori’s arm. Jerking away, she stomped ahead, oblivious to the activity around her. He had stopped her right before she crashed headlong into a trio of mimes entertaining the tourists. Despite him saving her from an embarrassing situation, she stiffened and haughtily tossed her head so her hair tumbled down her back.

  “You’re killing me, woman. I’m serious,” he ground out in an exasperated voice. “What the hell, Victoria. Nothing I do makes you happy. I suffered through Britney fucking Spears for you! But then you get mad at me for not dancing. Do I look like someone who secretly prances about with pigtails in a schoolgirl’s uniform?”

  “You look like someone with a cactus up his butt who doesn’t know how to let loose and have fun.”

  Oh, why did she say that? Why? His eyes flashed with anger, and she suddenly felt vulnerable and unsteady in the face of his reaction to her hasty words.

  Pausing to catch her breath, Tori’s composure was little more than a fragile shell, offering scant protection from the onslaught of messy emotions crowding in on them.

  He muttered something that she didn’t catch. Surrounded by a crowd of people, the noise and constant movement made having a conversation difficult.