Parker predicted a lot of long sleeves in Roman’s immediate future.
They were halfway through a grease heavy meal when he picked up on a subtle undercurrent. It was a lawyer thing that made him sit back, tug on his ear and take a minute to carefully check everyone out. It was like assessing the mood of a jury. Something was in the air, and he was determined to figure out what it was.
Alex and Drae were in deep discussion. St. John was leaning on the table with his fingers steepled before him. He nodded as Alex spoke. Nothing in his old friend’s demeanor suggested anything was wrong.
Still eating, Jason and Roman sat across from each other, gesturing with forks and knives as they debated books turned into movies and which was better. Books and movies. Completely typical for those two. Nothing to report from that zone.
Sawyer had wisely chosen to avoid meeting them, which just left Rafe and Domineau to observe.
At first glance, nothing struck him as unusual. Two large people sitting across from each other, inhaling food. Then he noticed something odd and paused.
She was attacking her plate of food, and by attacking, he meant almost literally cutting the food to nothing and finishing up with brutal chewing.
That in and of itself seemed a bit odd plus the fact she kept her sunglasses on the whole time. They were in a fucking restaurant—not sitting on a park bench at noon.
He’d always found Domineau a bit strange. And weirdly menacing. He knew who her handlers were at the CIA, so he never doubted her bona fides. She was that rare operative who took a straight edge to the extreme and in doing so probably scared the fucking hell out of everyone she encountered.
He wouldn’t call her cold-blooded, but the way she was spoken of let Parker know if there was a legit reason and someone needed taking out? Smoke was up for the assignment. Righting wrongs and holding pieces of bad shit accountable for their actions was her thing as far as he could tell.
The only person he’d ever seen her be warm and friendly with was Rafael D’Alessandro. He came off as a part friend, protector, and brother. But there were also those times, like last night, when it seemed like something more was between those two.
His eyes swung to Rafe, and he knew right away where the disturbance in the force was coming from.
Good lord. The man’s expression looked chiseled from marble. And he was watching Domineau like a waiting vulture.
Parker studied Domineau again. Except for the sunglasses, she looked exactly as she always did. Hair flat against her head in a tightly gathered non-style. Long-sleeve black t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The black jeans and desert boots suggested she was taking no shit today.
Trained to look closer, he studied how she moved and noticed she chewed with difficulty. Parker bet she wanted to be anyplace other than here. The fierce restrained vibe she gave off indicated Domineau was putting on an act. A good one.
Just before his eyes swept away, he saw something. Sitting forward slightly, he nonchalantly reached for his coffee and took a better look at Domineau’s neck.
Yep. He was sure. Right behind her ear, where she probably couldn’t see in the mirror, was an unmistakable love bite. If her hair was down, it wouldn’t be noticeable, but she always wore it in a tightly controlled helmet that left her neck visible.
Bingo. Domineau was sporting a fresh hickey. His gaze returned to Rafe as he tried to gauge whether the guy’s obviously pissy mood was from jealousy or something else. Something like rejection.
Judging by the furious glower on the guy’s face, Parker felt certain that if another man had touched Domineau, they’d be bailing him out of jail, not pretending to have a civilized breakfast.
So that meant the glower was personal. Holy shitballs. Had something of the hanky-panky variety gone down between those two last night?
“Dude! Sullivan, yo!” Alex barked. He was snapping his fingers under Parker’s nose. “What do you think, man? We could use the Villa property as a home base. Do the Obi Wan thing and teach our badass ways to anyone willing to throw down serious cash.”
Jesus, what?
“Would fucking kick ass,” Drae said between mouthfuls. “Perfect setting. Desert warfare. Plenty of room to play basic training and shit like that.”
He gave the two of them a dry look. “Are you asking for my professional advice?”
“Well, yeah.” Alex scoffed. “Duh.”
“Okay then,” he quipped. “Let the billable hours begin.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Drae interrupted. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I think he might be,” Alex answered with a laugh. “Greedy ambulance chaser.”
“Gotta make a living somehow. Not everyone is as lucky as you two silver spoon shitheads.”
“Silver spoon?” Alex shook his head and sneered. “We went to the same schools, asshole, and I seem to recall lots of paper plates and plastic forks.”
He couldn’t resist poking a bit of fun at the heir to the Valleja-Marquez holdings. They were suburban kids who played Little League and joined Boy Scouts together. Both of their dads were hard-working businessmen. For Alex, inheriting half of the fucking state of Arizona in acres belonging to his Spanish family was something that existed more on paper than in reality.
“Isn’t there a monument in Spain for your family or some bullshit like that? And what about the annual Christmas card from the Spanish Royal Family? How’s that silver spoon taste now?”
Drae let out a good-natured snort. “Sorry, bud, but he’s right. All that shit totally eclipses my illustrious society background. No titles for the St. John clan. Just banks full of robber baron cash and some dubious name recognition associations. Legend has it that my great-great grandmother had a torrid liaison with some Russian Grand Duke. For what it’s worth, my mother has the rubies and diamonds that supposedly proves it.”
Parker nodded and gave the man a smirk. Draegyn St. John was a massive pain in the ass, but the guy had a droll, pithy way with words that made him somewhat bearable.
“What is this?” Alex growled. “Gang up time? Fuck you both, man. I was trying to offer up a real contribution to the Justice plan, not spend the morning having my family impugned.”
“Hey,” Cameron yelled across the two tables they’d pushed together. “What’re you talking about? Did I hear you say the Justice plan?”
With a last look at the pantomime Domineau and Rafe were putting on, Parker pulled in his chair and pushed a stack of plates and platters out of the way.
“Hang on,” he muttered. With both hands, he touched his chest and felt for the wad of folded papers. He found them in the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew the crumpled mess.
Cam got up and moved closer. Roman stood and looked over Parker’s shoulder as he opened the papers to reveal two placemats and a couple of napkins covered in scrawl and sketches.
“Okay, gentlemen. Here it is. The Justice plan.”
Roman snickered. “What? The sex club scared you Boy Scouts?”
Alex chuckled. “There’s merit in both plans. Sawyer is going to hook us up tonight at a club he says is relatively safe. We won’t totally reject the idea until we’ve completed a research field trip and careful review, but honestly, man, I think an exclusive security agency is a no-brainer. Nothing to learn.”
Parker had to laugh. What a bunch of dumbasses. He dropped a little nugget of reality and waited for the reaction.
“I don’t know about you dick-whackers, but I’m eyeing the White House for future residence, and I think my dossier will read better without dungeon operator listed. You all might want to think about that.”
“Buzzkill,” Roman muttered through a hearty laugh.
They did a deep dive after that, discussing the practical pros and cons of basing an agency in Arizona. At least to start.
He noticed that Rafe and Domineau remained separate and apart. Figuring out what was going on with them would have to wait till later.
“Stop ignoring
me,” Rafe growled.
“I’m eating,” she snarled. “Back off.”
“You do realize that the sunglasses scream coward, right?”
She raised her eyes and looked at him. Or he thought she did. The black sunglasses made it hard to tell.
The glasses came off, and she glared at him. “Watch it.” The warning in her voice was hard to miss.
He was having a hell of a time keeping his shit together. Her total reversal and emotional shutdown played with his head in a big way.
His stupid mouth got out ahead of his sense when he replied with an accusation. “Do you always run away after sex? Is that some sort of jab? Thanks for the orgasm but fuck off?”
She stood and slapped him so hard he reeled back. Everyone else at the table froze and stared at them. The daggers hurled by her eyes crushed Rafe’s soul.
Shoving the table into his stomach—hard—she whirled around and stomped off, leaving him to explain what the fuck just happened.
He led with what had to be the stupidest fucking thing any man should ever say. “Guess it’s that time of the month.”
Stone-cold silence and slack jaws met this comment.
Since it didn’t matter to Parker one way or the other what Rafe thought of him—after all, when their getaway was over, he’d fly back to Washington while everyone else headed into a war zone—he stepped up and went after Domineau. Alex would deal with the Justice blowback.
He caught up with her on the sidewalk. “Rivera,” he barked.
“Don’t start with me, Counselor. I’m not feeling it right now.”
“Oh, fuck you,” he snapped. Though she tried to throw him off, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down the street to an outdoor café and shoved her into a chair. “If you get up, we go ten rounds right here in the street.”
Boxing her between a planter and the wall, he moved his chair so she’d have to crawl over him to escape. He motioned to the waiter and asked for American coffee.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?”
“No.”
“You realize I’m a lawyer, right?”
She glared at him, sat back, and crossed her legs, wagging her foot and clenching her fists in her lap. “Fine. I plead the fifth. Now mind your own fucking business.”
The waiter returned with coffee neither of them would touch. He eyed the steaming mug in front of her for a moment and considered whether she was asshole enough to fling the hot liquid in his face.
“Domineau, shut the fuck up for a minute. My mother raised me to react when a lady slaps a man’s face.”
She started to say something, but he didn’t want to hear any of her bullshit.
“In this instance, you’re the lady, so suck it up and let me finish.”
What were those lyrics to “If Looks Could Kill”? He was fairly certain the song was the perfect soundtrack for this conversation.
“Bottom line. No explanation necessary but do you want me to go back in there and put D’Alessandro on the floor?”
“You and what army?” She snickered.
“Oh, believe me”—he snorted—“if I throw a punch, Alex will be there for the second hit. And where Alex goes, Drae usually follows. And then Cam. Roman might sit the spectacle out, but fight club and the ninja backing me up along with the major pretty much guarantees Rafe’s takedown.”
She laughed. Or maybe she breathed in a bug. It was hard to know for sure. “I underestimated the level of your commitment to mayhem and fuckery.” She nodded gracefully and offered a smirk. “I bow to your mother and the manners she gave you.”
“Pretty sure your mother has a similar code.”
He meant to include all moms in the respectful gesture to his parent, but from her expression and how fast she shut down, he knew he’d stepped in it.
“My mother is dead, so I wouldn’t know what she thinks of your honor code.”
The words hung in the air. Only his skill as a lawyer kept him from cringing at the bitter bluntness in her voice. He came back at her with some direct, blunt speak of his own.
“This may come as a surprise, Domineau, but I think you’re okay. I know who has you on their radar. Anyone who can do what you do and stay above the fray is all right in my book. Plus, you remind me of someone else I know who takes no one else’s stupid shit.”
“Uh-huh,” she growled.
“Respect,” he bluntly drawled. “If you ever need anything or, well, you know—I hope you’ll reach out. That’s all I’m saying. Reach out.”
She looked at him, hesitated, and then offered her hand. They shook and then she told him in rude and colorful terms to get the fuck out of her way. He scooted his chair back and let her pass.
Before walking away, though, she stopped and looked at him. “Hey, you wanna maybe, oh, I don’t know, have my back during this fucking field trip? We’ll all end up in jail if anyone touches me.” She shrugged. “Know what I mean?”
He smiled. “Sure, I’ll be your date.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, dude.”
She waved, and between blinks, she had vanished into the crowd.
“Smoke,” he muttered quietly. “A puff and she’s gone.”
Roman watched, learning from the best, as the major took control of the uncomfortable situation. After Parker had bolted in Domineau’s wake, Alex instantly launched into Rafe, demanding to know what the fuck was going on.
He, Cam, and Drae watched the exchange between the two big men like a tennis match—their heads moving back and forth as Alex volleyed and then Rafe answered.
Mostly, D’Alessandro opted for resigned belligerence. He kept telling Alex it was nothing even though it was abundantly clear that none of them believed a word he said.
Anyone else except Alex would let the matter drop. Roman waited impatiently to see what the major did.
Rafe resembled a brick wall. A bald, well-built, sturdy brick wall.
The smallest twitch in the crease of the man’s left eye triggered Roman’s behavioral analysis microscope. The micro-expression indicated an elevated emotional state despite the show of outward calm. He zoomed in for a better look.
Cam murmured so only he could hear. “He’s sweating a river.” The sarcastic snicker said what he thought of Rafe. The Brutus and Popeye show birthed a shit ton of animosity—all of it on Jason’s part.
Roman took a deep breath. Whatever. He was more interested in this unfolding drama than some drunken escapade.
Alex pressed, and his argument was a good one.
“Since Parker didn’t come back right away sporting a black eye, we can assume he’s with Domineau. You just gonna sit there and say nothing? He’ll have the full story, man.”
Rafe’s jaw clenched. His breathing became rapid, and he gave Alex a quick, dark scowl. “She won’t say anything,” he grunted.
Roman smiled. Would Alex recognize the gaffe?
“So you’re saying there is something. Good. Let’s move on to what the something entails, hmm?”
Rafe squirmed and muttered some swear words.
Drae laughed loud enough for everyone to hear.
Alex glanced at Roman and smirked.
Cam grunted.
“It’s private,” Rafe growled. “Personal.”
Jason threw his hands up and yelled, “Bingo!” Then he turned to Drae and smacked his arm. “Come on. Twenty bucks.”
Drae flipped Rafe off and reached for his wallet; his eyes narrowed as he muttered to himself.
“I’ll get Sully’s twenty bucks later,” Cameron quipped while waving the bill Drae handed over.
Rafe’s jaw hit the floor. It was pretty funny from Roman’s perspective. Did the bald goon really think no one had noticed the vibe between him and Domineau? Wow, maybe that old saying was true. Love makes you blind.
“I guess I should thank you,” Rafe said in Roman’s direction, “for not taking the bet.”
Alex snicker-grunted. “Who do you think started it in the first place?”
/> Roman laughed and grabbed his crotch when he snarled at Alex. “Fuck off, you aristocratic snot.”
“Bourgeois shithead,” Alex replied in a good-natured drawl. Then he turned his attention back to Rafe.
“I’m asking as a friend. All of us are. Don’t make me pull rank, D’Alessandro.”
A tense minute went by before Rafe reacted.
He cleared his throat and glanced around the restaurant. Then he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. It was a casual pose, but his outward behavior was anything but.
“She, uh, shut the door.” He nodded a few times. “And locked it.”
Roman’s initial reaction was ‘before or after’ but Rafe’s somber mood revealed what appeared to be hurt feelings—so definitely after.
Alex’s head gave a little jerk. “Oh. Shit, Rafe. Sorry, man.”
Jason groaned, waved his hand dismissively, and growled, “Whatever,” before walking away.
“Smoke is complicated,” Drae said. “Maybe give her a little time.”
His body flinched when Alex went into command mode. It happened so fast that Roman looked at him twice.
“Justice isn’t a lonely hearts club. There is no ‘give her a little time,’ and Rivera would remove your testicles if she heard you speak that way. What happens here, fucking stays here.”
Alex’s voice was growing louder, more stern, and had an edge of menace that made them all sit or stand straighter.
“Have I made myself clear?”
Yeah. Roman gulped. He couldn’t help it. The man was as right as he was loud. Rafe and Domineau, hell, all of them—had to buck the fuck up once this rowdy romp came to an end and pull on their Kevlar ass covers. Personal shit had no place in the middle or even along the edges of what they did.
7
It was hard not to drink his body weight in gallons of scotch once he and the rest of the Justice gang got a first-hand view of what constituted a Bangkok sex club. Parker wasn’t sure if the English language contained words adequate enough to describe the experience.
First of all, he kept his promise to have Domineau’s back despite the uncomfortable dagger sticking in his courtesy of Rafe.
Original Justice (Justice Brothers Book 4) Page 7