Unforgettable (Family Justice Book 5)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “We’ll see how funny you think it is when I’ve emptied that wallet.”

  They both laughed. Her emptying his wallet would take more useless effort than either of them cared to expend. Even though she was sitting on a serious amount of money, they went by the old-fashioned standard of the husband earns and the wife runs the home. If she needed or wanted anything, it came out of their joint account.

  Luckily for him, Meghan’s millions meant nothing to her personally. She used the money in smart ways and had a savvy grasp of where her bonus dollars could do the most good. When they married, Parker arranged for a financial team to manage the trust she set up.

  As far as being Mr. and Mrs. Marquez went however, she stayed within those old-fashioned boundaries.

  Out of the blue he quipped, “I think the baby makes you come more.”

  She chuckled and reached over the center console to stroke his thigh.

  “Do you think it’s more orgasms or just a case of endlessly horny?”

  “Hmph,” he snorted. “Good question. Suppose we try an experiment?”

  “Major!” she snapped. “If this experiment has anything to do with pulling up my dress or touching myself the answer is a fast no.”

  “What?” he asked with a bark of laughter. “Is that my slave saying no?”

  She twisted in her seat and looked at him, tsk’ing the whole time. “Listen up, master. I’ve got an overtime mess going on down there right now.” She swatted invisible flecks off her skirt and pursed her lips. “And it’s your fault, so there.”

  “How is it my fault that you gush like a hose?”

  He enjoyed taunting her. Especially when she blushed and struggled with an appropriate comeback.

  Using that snippy, snotty teacher voice that turned his dick to marble, she tossed some hair over her shoulder and bit out her reply. He had to chomp down on his lip to stop from laughing.

  “Excuse me,” she snapped, “but I was referring to the fact that you stole my panties and then came inside me. Several times if memory serves.”

  “So you’re saying I should clean up my mess?”

  He veered off the roadway and pulled the car to a stop.

  Jumping like a gunshot went off next to her head, his startled wife who knew exactly what he referred to shrieked with dismay. “Oh my god, Alex! Absolutely not.”

  Unbuckling his seatbelt, he leered at her and started undoing hers as well. “Put your seat back,” he instructed, but she was too busy swatting at his hands to do anything else.

  He was just messing with her which made her frantic attempts to stop him from a potential orgy between her legs all the funnier.

  “Alexander,” she hollered.

  Oh really? he thought. She didn’t usually whip his full name out like that. He was either Alex, the Major, husband, or baby. The few times she went with his formal name usually signaled her impending wrath. Continuing to needle her would be tons of fun but she really was freaking out. Had he missed something?

  “Sweetie, I was just fucking with you. Okay?”

  Seriously though, he was damn proud right then that he hadn’t said calm down or relax. Drae told him these expressions and words were on the No-Go List.

  She didn’t relax right away but after a few seconds started to smile shyly. “Have I told you recently what a bad man you are?”

  He grinned like an idiot. “Say it like a slave.”

  She moved incredibly fast, rolling sideways until she was on her knees and coming at him over the console. Diving onto his mouth she kissed him with increasing passion until an invisible line was crossed and she was forced to back off. Fornicating in cars was best accomplished in the limo. Not the confined interior of the Mercedes.

  “You are a bad man, master,” she whispered into his ear. For good measure she licked his earlobe and then bit it before sitting back down.

  “Now take me home and run me a bath. And if you clean me up like a good master is supposed to, this slave will fuck you senseless and then after you feed me, I plan to fuck you again.”

  “Well shit, baby. That sounds like a good plan to me.”

  “Beauty must feed her beast,” she murmured.

  Goddamn things were going great. They were home in Arizona and she was pregnant. Family Justice although dinged and bruised during their long honeymoon absence, was back on track. Sure, he was feeling the stress from the overwhelming changes, but he was managing and the only thing that really mattered was Meghan being safe. And happy. They were more in love than ever and inside her a tiny life was growing.

  He didn’t really know what the future held. None of them did. But he was certainly doing everything in his power to ensure their continuing happiness. Hell. He even dragged his sorry ass into church with her a couple of times. He and the big dude in charge upstairs still tiptoed around each other. Alex wasn’t ready to do much more than go through the motions but he could see how much it meant to his wife that he was willing to try.

  This reminded him. They were getting awfully close to the big reveal he managed to keep under wraps. The guy working on the homestead renovation was coming to town for the grand opening of the family center.

  Caleb Merrill turned out to be one hell of a talented guy. Not only did he bring Alex’s modest but very specific and detail-oriented vision for the old adobe structure to life, he’d been instrumental during his honeymoon absence in helping Parker with some design issues that came up with the center complex.

  And according to Tori, Cal’s girlfriend was some crazy hippie artist who was fully responsible for the kickass mural decorating a wall in the administration building.

  He was anxious to meet both people and thank them for their efforts. The adobe renovation was a contracted project so them volunteering to get involved in the outreach and family center was deeply meaningful to him on a personal level.

  21

  Announcing his presence with a booming, “Knock, knock,” Finn stomped up three steps to a narrow porch wrapped around the sides of a very cool prefab modular cleverly styled like all the rest of the Spanish influenced buildings in the Justice agency’s compound.

  In fact, he thought the compact building so impressive he was seriously considering checking out a similar set-up for a business suite at Pete’s. Using a fucking closet as an office wasn’t working for him and with each passing day his dreams and plans for the future of the once run down and cowboy tacky saloon got bigger and more challenging. Upgrading the professional end of the operation was already an on-going thing, and if they wanted to come off like they knew their stuff and throw down like real entrepreneurs, a business center was a great idea.

  Yanking open a big screen door, he stuck his head inside and found the man he was looking for half sitting on a desk with one leg on the floor and a weird looking object in his hands.

  “Come on in,” Brody called out. “Finn,” he said with evident surprise. “What the hell brings you all the way out here? Lost? Need a seeing eye dog?”

  They chuckled, and Brody put down whatever the fuck he was looking at and extended his hand for a friendly shake.

  Flopping into a big wooden chair, Finn nodded at the unusual object and asked the obvious, “Is that a drone?”

  Each of them looked at the low-tech, hi-tech device for a minute. “Yep. Less than three pounds with a half hour flight time.”

  “New toy?”

  Brody sniggered and shot Finn a smirk. “Dude, almost everything out here is a toy in some way or other. But this beauty we use for aerial photography. Wanna see?” he asked enthusiastically. Swinging away from the desk, he picked up a remote control and gestured toward the flat screen hanging across the room. “Check this out.”

  The huge screen went from dark to light as the logo for the Justice canine program appeared. Right away, Finn nodded his approval. Whatever this was, they had it professionally done. He was impressed.

  Brody fast forwarded through a bunch of blah, blah, blah, and picked up the video as an
aerial shot of the surrounding area filled the screen. Zeroing in, the next minutes showed a dog team and four operatives in full tactical gear doing a training maneuver around a mock attack simulation. There was running, gunfire and an accompanying video edited in taken from the dogs’ point-of-view by what Brody explained was a canine surveillance vest.

  “Holy fuckballs, Batman,” he muttered. “Dude! I had no idea you did that sort of shit.”

  Brody clicked off the video and flipped him off. “There’s more to security canines than drug sniffing and guard dogs. My teams are highly trained to the specific needs and requirements of our clients. Sure, there are photo op ready Shepherds available for the next celebrity superstar, but most of the major contracts we have involve higher level shit. World’s a damn fucked up place.”

  That salient observation brought the conversation to a rapid halt.

  “Calder modifies the canine gear for each user and Alex, Jesus. What he did with these drones is beyond explaining.”

  Finn nodded. He knew all about Alex’s talents. “You know, when I met the big guy, he was a certifiable mess and in full grovel mode too. Meggie ran the poor man ragged. Anyway, I thought he was just a snot bag with money. It took a while to see the bigger picture. The man is scary smart and even though Calder is a king sized asshole, I have to admit that the two of them together make MacGyver and the geek squad for the FBI look like a bunch of schoolyard amateurs.”

  “I think he was working out some technical thing with the International Space Station the other day. At least that’s what it sounded like when I barged in.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  Brody’s dry smirk was the perfect answer. “Asking that question means you finally figured out who the hell you’re dealing with and yes—dead serious.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Maybe I should talk to the Major about the security system at Pete’s. The one we have sucks dick.”

  “He doesn’t need my reference but I’d sure as shit recommend him! Look at this,” Brody murmured as he tapped on his phone. Shoving the screen at his face, he said, “Heather and I can monitor and control every part of the house and property from our phones. Talk about smart-house technology. Man, this shit is next level awesome. Give Alex a battery, two crayons, a coil of wire, some duct tape and a thermos of coffee, and he can create almost anything.”

  Goddamn that was funny. Finn laughed and made a face. “Glad he’s on our side.”

  “Word,” Brody muttered. “So, seriously O'Brien. Why the visit?”

  “Actually, security is exactly what brought me out here. Barry and me were talking about getting a dog.”

  “I didn’t know you two were a couple.” The dog guru’s snarky laugh was so typically Justice.

  “Bite me,” Finn chuckled.

  Brody’s snap retort, “Maybe later,” reminded Finn of the dry humor of the firehouses and EMS stations where he’d been hanging for most of his adult life.

  “I’m serious, Jensen. A guard dog would make a statement. A ‘don’t fuck with us’ statement.” He shrugged. “And I’m thinking having a dog around might keep me out of trouble. Know what I mean?”

  Brody burned a fucking hole through him with a laser-like stare that made Finn slightly uncomfortable. Another Justice trait. Sometimes it felt like the entire crew of hard ass ex-military mofos could see right through a guy.

  “So,” Brody mumbled. The thoughtful stare turned… oddly cheerful. “What you’re saying is, that you, Finn O’Brien, want a dog.”

  “Yeah. Something that’ll make a lot of noise.”

  “You want a dog for yourself, that makes a lot of noise.”

  “Yeah,” he said again. “You know. I’m thinking like Brutus. Or Cobra. Or Hulk as a name. He can hang around Pete’s and go home with me at night.”

  Brody crossed his arms and rested against his desk. “Have you ever had a dog?”

  “What the fuck difference does that make? Look, man, everyone around here talks about you like you’re some dog-whispering savant. I get it. Mad props, Brody. But I’m getting a dog and that’s the end of it. I just thought you were the guy to talk to.”

  “You aren’t wrong there.” Moving behind his desk, Jensen opened a drawer and started rifling through it, plucked out a couple of papers stapled together and handed it to him. “Fill this out.”

  Finn’s brows arched at the terse instruction.

  “My animals aren’t toys. This isn’t a showroom where you try on a dozen options. We match our dogs to the right owners. Everyone fills out the questionnaire. Got a problem with that?”

  “Nope,” he quickly replied.

  Brody handed him a pen and a clipboard. “No time like the present then. The sooner you fill that out, the quicker I can match you up with the right animal.”

  Fair enough. He grabbed the pen, stuck the paper on the clipboard and got started.

  Remy hurried along the walkway leading from a parking area to the guard shack that monitored the daily comings and goings at Camp Justice. This was her last stop of the day. She was delivering a flash drive with her portion of the tracking sensor install that Duke and Alex had quietly overseen.

  “Douglas,” she called out with a wave when one of Duke’s senior staff came around the side of the small security building.

  The short, slightly rotund bulldog that the Justice security chief counted on as a competent second, looked up at her greeting and waved back.

  “Remy. I was just thinking about you.”

  She hurried to his side and walked with him as he made a straight path to the door of the guard shack.

  “I’m finished at the barn. My god, that took almost the whole day. But good news. Tagged and activated every sensor. All we have to do now is wait for the Major’s final list.”

  “Stragglers,” he explained.

  Opening the door to the building he waved her in and slammed the door shut after them. The two-man security team all but jumped to attention and saluted when he entered the room.

  “Anything?” he barked. Both men answered efficiently and promptly.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. Have three visitors on-site and the FedEx truck just left.”

  Douglas pulled on a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and leaned into the control monitor. “Show me the visitors.”

  Remy stood quietly and watched. She knew there was an impressive security safety net over the entire property, and this rare opportunity to see part of it in action was fascinating.

  The two highly trained operatives went into action.

  “Visitor one is in the business center. A Cheryl Prescott signed in at sixteen-forty-three.”

  On the monitor a shot of a red, convertible mustang with a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview appeared.

  “Visitor two is unloading gear at the back of the equipment depot. Shipment of tactical rigs approved by Mr. St. John.”

  This time the monitor showed a large boxy Sprinter van backed up to the garage door of the depot building. Several guys were unloading stuff. Someone stood at the side of the van with what appeared to be a scanning device.

  Douglas spoke in short, distinct sentences. “Were the tags swiped?”

  “Yes, sir. Swiped and logged, sir.”

  The screen filled with a datasheet showing vehicles’ identification numbers next to a time-date stamp.

  Good lord. Knowing everything that moved was being monitored was impressive enough. Seeing a quick glimpse of the tracking systems in play was pretty eye-opening.

  “Visitor three is in the dog sector. Currently parked here.”

  The monitor zoomed in on a pick-up truck that seemed vaguely familiar to Remy. Focusing as she peered at the image, she spied the faint outline of a four leaf clover decal on the truck’s rear gate.

  “Aw, fuck,” she muttered.

  Three pairs of eyes looked at her in unison.

  “Don’t mind me,” she drawled, hoping to c
onvey an air of disinterest. “Just remembered something.”

  Real smooth, Remington. Sheesh.

  The security brief continued. “The truck belongs to Mrs. Marquez’s brother.”

  Douglas looked straight at her. “The Chief says this guy’s truck should be tagged.”

  Well goddammit. She hoped nobody expected her to tackle the task. Unfortunately, an air of expectant hesitation hung in the air. Shit.

  “He might not be okay with a tracking sensor.”

  Douglas snickered. “I doubt the Chief or Mrs. Marquez give a flying fuck what he’s okay with. Priority one was securing all family vehicles. This one isn’t an exception.”

  Aw, fuck my life. Really? She fought not to roll her eyes. Relying on some quick thinking she told the no-nonsense supervisor that she didn’t have time to traipse out to the canine camp.

  He didn’t care what she had time for. The two guards made a passably believable effort at pretending to not notice the tension between her and a senior officer. This was one of those times when it sucked being surrounded by military types who knee-jerk acknowledged the power of every command structure.

  She could have continued to drag her feet. Maybe even engage in a bit of arguing, but Remy knew the end result would be the same. It was her job to tag all the licensed vehicles. Finn’s stupid shamrock truck fell into that category.

  Handing off the flash drive, she spent a few minutes with Douglas as he snapped his stubby fingers and made a GPS sensor magically appear. The reality wasn’t quite that colorful. Or interesting. She was just trying to lighten her suddenly sour frame of mind.

  Tucking the small device in a pocket of her jeans, she left the guard shack, casually making her way to the Ranger UTV she arrived in. This wasn’t her first rodeo and she suspected at least one pair of eyes watched her as she left. No way was she going to provide gossip-fuel by stomping away angrily or putting on any sort of a show.

  Control, Remington.

  Taking her good, sweet time, she pulled away from the parking lot and continued along the main Camp Justice road to the turn off for the canine camp.