He was dead serious when he forced her to look at him and held tight to her neck. “I know you that well, Angelina.”
Brody and Heather slammed matching tankards onto the bar and grinned at Barry as he shook his head and laughed.
“I appreciate a pirate couple who travel with their own drinking vessels. Very clever. What’s your pleasure, maties?” he asked in a laughably awkward pirate accent.
“Yuengling,” Brody answered. “And for my lovely wench, a rum and coke. Easy on the spirits and heavy on the soda.”
Heather was fussing with her costume as the barkeep walked away. “Are my boobs hanging out?”
“Well yeah,” he assured her with a lascivious lip lick. “Boobage is mandatory for a pirate wench, isn’t it?”
He took a moment to admire Heather’s spectacular rack and marveled at what some elastic, a corset and a quarter bra could do.
“Are you planning to fall face first into my boobs?”
Not embarrassed that she caught him salivating over her assets, he smirked and shrugged. “Just thinking about watching your lovely tits sway in my face when you get on top.”
She began to respond but then stopped, looked down, reached into a deep pocket of her wench’s costume and pulled out her phone.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s my mom,” she answered. “Oh my god! Check this out.”
Shoving the phone in his face he backed up to focus. “How fucking cute is that?” he mumbled through a happy grin. “She sent that to your mom?”
“Mm hm. They have a running conversation going on about half a dozen devices. Looks like this was sent from Alex’s phone. She forwards all of Bella’s messages to me. Almost all of them are pictures.”
His daughter’s instant attachment to Jennifer Clarke and the way Heather’s mother wholeheartedly accepted Bella’s surprise appearance both amused and baffled him. It some weird alternate universe, when they met in this life, it was as if they’d known each other for a long time. Jennifer gladly stepped into the grandmother role and doted on Bella non-stop.
Ah,” he murmured, his hand caressing the bare skin Heather’s off shoulder wench girl top exposed. “Makes sense now.”
She relaxed against him and shifted her shoulder to allow more touching. “What makes sense?”
Her voice had a delicate smokiness that set his pulse racing. Sometimes when she felt vulnerable or fragile he’d hear that muted sound and know he needed to pay attention. Knowing she encouraged and supported the relationship, he wasn’t sure what was going on.
He answered her question, speaking calmly. His hand continued stroking, hidden from view beneath the veil of her hair. She shuddered slightly and softened some more.
“When we hung out at Camp Justice a few weeks ago, she had me send Jennifer the canine program brochure. Seemed like an odd request but with Bella, that shit is becoming the norm. Then we took a selfie together outside in the dog park. You’re not kidding about a running conversation.”
Barry came back and pushed their topped off tankards across the bar, bringing the illuminating conversation to an end.
“Running a tab, guys,” Barry said when Brody tried to pay for the drinks. “Finn’s orders. Got one for Justice and another for the family.”
Brody growled and laughed at the same time. “Bet the asshole tacks on ten percent when he hands over the bill.”
“Justice can afford it,” Barry smirked.
“Hey,” he said when he suddenly remembered something. “Speaking of Finn, is he serious about getting a dog? I heard through a couple of my guys who hang out here that he’s making chest-thumping noises about a guard dog. Apparently he wants some growling bruiser to scare the fuck out of people?”
Barry stroked his beard and chuckled. “Dude,” he drawled. “Ever since we took over, every bad ass wannabe in the whole damn county is sizing the place up. After a couple of free for alls, we figured some knuckle dragging bouncer and a guard dog would be advantageous.”
“Want me to look around and see what’s available? I mean, it is what I do.”
“That’d be great Brody and listen, man. We heard about what you’re doing for the veteran’s outreach program. That shit’s incredible. Service animals for military families and vets. Fucking brilliant.”
“Not every pup we get fits the security animal profile. Some are better suited as trained service animals. After investigating the service angle for vets I started thinking well, what about going a step further? Why not match up military families—especially those going through long deployments and separations, with a dog? I’ve seen first-hand with my daughter what a difference a pet can make to an anxious child.”
Heather patted his chest. “Who is this bike riding dog guru and what have you done with the preppy buttoned down teacher I knew?”
Barry’s good-natured boom of laughter made Brody roll his eyes because he knew what was coming.
“Dude! Did not have you pegged as the college professor type. Man, I bet the government wished they had you working for them. They could use a few more men of many disguises.”
Ugh. His stomach pitched. He expected the professor jab but the ‘working for the government’ remark hit far too close to home. Having the reality of a daughter now, he’d started to obsess over his military resume. Writing sniper on the experience line feels like a guaranteed red flag.
“Oh fuck. Gotta run folks. The crowds are arriving. Way more people than we expected,” he laughed. “Better alert the kitchen. More appetizers, stat!”
Didn’t take long for them to get swept up by the rapid influx of costumed people—all in high spirits—and the spooktacular Halloween mayhem Finn and Barry promised.
The food was incredible. He was happy to see Meghan and Finn laughing and smiling together. This was the newly improved Whiskey Pete’s inaugural special event, and damn but the boys did good! Word was starting to spread that the run down cowboy bar had transformed into a family friendly restaurant saloon by day while keeping its reputation for being a legendary highway rock ‘n’ roll cowboy honkytonk by night. He didn’t doubt that with a lot of hard work and more of what he’d already seen in changes, the boys would be sitting on a goldmine a year from now.
Brody liked when folks around him succeeded. Anyone. It strengthened his faith in people.
He’d never seen Pete’s cleaned up and decorated. The place was packed, rowdy and ready to party. Barry and his bar crew were making outrageously expensive themed concoctions and fire drinks. Scattered here and there were creepy looking feel boxes. He stuck his hand in one and almost puked when he encountered what felt like gooey brains and crunchy eyeballs. That was enough for him!
A gigantic super-sized Mason jar filled with candy corn sat at the end of the bar. People were invited to guess the number of corns with the person closest winning a flat screen TV. An inebriated game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey that lasted several rounds ended with some shit-faced drunk guy from town winning.
Barry’s girlfriend Shelly held court in a corner of the saloon dressed to the teeth as a gypsy fortuneteller. For a small donation that went to the family center, she put on quite a show with her crystal ball and crazy antics.
And on the other side of the room, tucked in a garishly decorated corner, sat two skeletons having dinner. The family center donation idea was put to good use once more. One of the daytime bartenders, a fella named Grey, was set up to take pictures of the costumed guests eating a prop-filled dinner with the ghoulish couple.
It was all very clever and an ass load of fun. Just what everyone needed. The chance to party around a holiday, let loose and have a good time was the best of times. Everyone and their brother were here. Hell, he even spied Remy skulking in a corner looking like she’d rather be anyplace else.
The guys outdid themselves and thought of everything. There was even a basket of plain masks at the door for anyone who didn’t have one.
Heather’s hand slid down his side and reached f
or his hand. She was having a great time. He wanted the sparkle in her eyes that he saw tonight to be there tomorrow and all the days ahead of them.
Intensely aware of all they’d been through and in such a short time, he’d been navigating an improvised slow down plan in an effort not to spook her. They hadn’t even been together for an entire year and though he hoped the last time he’d gone east that she’d take a leap of faith with him and start a new life in Arizona, the deal hadn’t included being an instant step-parent to a slightly damaged kid.
The way he saw it he was advancing the ball down the field by taking a slow and steady approach. First things first. Bella’s birthday was coming up and then Thanksgiving as a family in their new home. Before too long it’d be Christmas. He didn’t see a chance to squeeze an engagement in but when he did, make no doubt about it, he was ready to go.
“I love you,” his pirate wench whispered. The sweet words were wrapping around his nerves when she suddenly squawked, “Hey! Holy shit, Brody. Is that my diamond stud in your ear? Did you raid my jewelry box?”
He chuckled and silenced her outburst with a quick, deep kiss. “It took you until now to see the earring?” he shook his head and grinned. “Where have your eyes been, woman?”
They were standing close enough that she simply raised her leg and rubbed along his thigh, up to his crotch. “I like the leather pants very much. And the knee-high boots? Unfair advantage mister pirate, sir.”
Brody ran a finger on the outrageous display of boob-mounds she had going on and smirked with a disapproving headshake. “Unfair advantage? Please. At least I’m covered up.”
His heart did a happy dance when she threw her head back and roared with laughter. The thick mane of sexy curls that she’d carefully created with an array of styling tools and products that left him speechless tumbled down her back, exposing the pale column of her neck and a mouth-watering expanse of skin from shoulder to shoulder. He wanted to bite her. Lean in, latch his mouth onto her neck, and chomp down. Hard. Heather liked it when he did that. So did he.
“Gonna make you swash my buckle later, m’lady,” he growled against her throat. His comical threat made her laugh but she’d wrapped her arms around him and hugged tight, which was good enough for him.
“Brody Jensen,” she murmured huskily. Leaning back to look him in the eyes, he knew that bottomless happiness he felt whenever she was in his arms. Heather had been his sanctuary during a rough time. He’d give her the universe on a golden chain to wear around her neck if he could.
“I always hoped your Pirates of Penzance training would come in handy someday.”
“All hail Gilbert and Sullivan. Glad to know my nerd-tastic musical theater past makes you hot.”
The light-hearted moment buckled when his lady let out a long, groaning sigh. “Oh shit.”
Someone squeezed by and jostled them. He wrapped an arm around her and moved them a few feet away from the crush of people.
“What?”
“You might have to go rescue Remy. She looks super uncomfortable.”
He didn’t care about Remington Bissett at the moment, but Heather’s stern frown and arched brow was the only attitude adjustment he needed. Following the direction of her blistering stare he saw Remy with her back against the wall looking all kinds of panicked as a dark-robed figure loomed over her.
Doesn’t look good, he thought and instantly sprang into action—leaving Heather to either follow or stay put.
15
“Whadaya say grey lady? You. Me. A brandy at the bar?”
Remy wanted to scream. No, wait. Scratch that. Not scream. Screaming was for pussies. No. She needed to break something. Like hulk the fuck out and snap a chair in two. Or maybe toss a table and hurl a pitcher of beer against a wall.
And not because a perfectly nice guy—despite being dressed as Lord Voldemort—was politely asking for a minor social courtesy.
No. Her pissed-off-ness stemmed from that feeling she hated. Of being cornered. Pushed, literally, to the wall. Did it help that he was considerably bigger than her? No. Decked out as he was in head-to-toe black with the less than flattering Voldemort prosthetics and make-up, she struggled to control the panic as his size made her shrink inwardly until in her mind’s eye she was small and fragile enough to crush.
Someday you motherfucker, she vowed in silence, I will break you. That’s what the phoenix did, right? Be consumed and destroyed only to break free and rise again…when the moment presented itself. That was her. Waiting for her chance to fly.
“Um, I don’t know Randy.” She tried shrugging, hoping to give off an air of complete indifference. Indifference and disdain were her best moves. “I’m just doing a quick cameo. You know how it is. The whole work crew is here so I sort of had to come and make nice. But really. I’m out of here A-S-A-P.”
“Damn grey lady. Does that mean you won’t see our set? We go on in the next half hour.”
He needed to back off. She could feel his breath on her face. This was practically her worst nightmare—having an episode in public. Where people who knew her story would react with pity, or worse, scorn. And those who didn’t would just think she was a basket case.
Was it hot in here? Why the hell had she worn a turtleneck? She glanced up at the ceiling looking for an air conditioning vent.
Just when she felt the blood begin to rush out of her head, a familiar voice broke through the panic and threw her an anchor.
“Remy! Time to sweep Justice together so we can grab some tables before the show starts.”
Brody. Oh thank god. She swung her gaze to his and blinked. The panic started to recede because she saw in his face that he got it.
“Hey Randy,” he said with practiced ease. “Or should I say Lord Voldemort. Excellent costume, man.”
The two men shook hands and exchanged mindless pleasantries, giving her the space and time she needed to pull it together. Pushing away from the wall at her back, she held her breath while sliding around them and stuck her hand out in blind hope that she found something to grab onto. Her wish was answered when a high stool appeared at the exact right moment.
Brody was keeping Randy occupied so she blocked them both out and steeled herself against the emotional forces threatening to drag her under. Leaving was becoming a distinct possibility. There was a reason why she avoided rowdy gatherings like this.
Refusing to get all worked up about a stupid costume, Remy pulled an ensemble out of her ass that was the enemy to fun and wore grey corduroy pants with a grey shirt. That was it. With her long dark hair tautly woven into a severe braid, she looked cloudy at best and mousey at worst. She thought of the look as ‘smoke’. She was smoke. Until something sparked a flame and she became a raging inferno. She slid a finger into the turtleneck collar of her shirt and pulled it away from her neck to allow air a chance to cool her skin.
A loud laugh drew her attention. She looked across the room and found Jace in a tuxedo accepting the fawning flirtation of a girl wearing a one-piece sparkly cat suit a la Beyoncé. He’d wanted to wear an old racing suit and had someone send him one from home but he’d bulked up so much from his time in Arizona that it didn’t fit. That’s when the tuxedo became her cousin’s best option. Nobody wore a tuxedo quite like he did.
Feeling marginally better, she bit down on the inside of her mouth. An old habit from her flying days. The stinging bite zapped her brain into the present. Straightening, she was about to turn toward Brody when Finn caught her eye and she stopped in mid-motion.
He was hard to miss and she’d seen him the second she and Jace came through the door. The silken boxing trunks, championship belt and short robe emblazoned with the name ‘Brisket’ fit the snarky asshole to a T. So did the black eye and stitches everyone was talking about.
He was staring a hole through her while a chick in a sexy nurse outfit that left nothing to the imagination climbed all over him like a lizard on a tree.
Reflex. Habit. Call it whatever you want. Findi
ng the steel in her spine she went rigid, flashed him a withering smirk and flipped him off.
He never flinched. Just kept staring until heat started gathering inside her clothes again until she was sure her skin was boiling.
Because she had to be the single unluckiest bitch on the planet, Heather appeared from the shadows and touched her lightly on the shoulder. Not a squeeze or a hug. A light tap. Considering she was a therapist who knew her way around a PTSD episode, Remy had to admit the lady was good.
“We’re grabbing a table along the back wall. Up front but with a clear path to the ladies’ room. You good?”
Sometimes it’s just easier to go with the flow and let things happen. She acquiesced to Heather’s handling of the situation, knowing full well she was extending a helping hand, and nodded. Waving mindlessly to Randy she ignored his expression when without returning to their conversation, she followed Heather. Taking the wimpy way out was a relief.
“Wanna talk about it?” Heather asked quietly.
They shoved two tables together in front of a bench wall and shuffled half a dozen chairs around. Heather sat at one end of the table so Remy slid onto the bench next to her.
By grabbing the life vest the aware therapist tossed, and accepting her deft handling of Remy’s panic, the question was inevitable. Everyone always wanted to talk about it. No use in dodging the issue but having a chitchat was so not ever going to happen.
“Thanks for the rescue. I’ve got some issues,” she delivered drolly. Gesturing with a wave of her head she finished the best way she knew how. “Stuff like this is one huge trigger so mostly I avoid big gatherings. But this is Justice and some shit is mandatory.”
There. End of story. No further explanation necessary.
The smart lady giving her an ocular exam was either a shit ton cleverer than anyone she’d ever met or Remy was dumb as a box of marbles because Heather’s reaction to her short, sweet obfuscating confession was laughter. At her—not with her.
Unforgettable (Family Justice Book 5) Page 17