Tossing the phone back, she was disappointed when he caught it. The time had come to end this farce. Fixing her former fiancé with a caustic glare, she spat words at him that were mild compared to the bitchy tirade happening inside her head.
“You made a mistake messing with my family, Ronaldo, and will have to deal with the consequences of your foolish actions. Come anywhere near Valleja-Marquez again, or as much as look in my family’s direction, and you will be feeling wrath like nothing you can imagine. Do I make myself clear?”
“Angelina,” he bit out snidely with a cold look.
“Oh, fuck you, Aldo. Tell it to someone who cares. Go home and clean up the mess you made,” she yelled.
The second her voice raised, he took a couple of menacing steps toward her, but the guy in the SUV appeared in time to put a forbidding hold on his arm. The instant outrage that anyone dare to touch him flashed on Aldo’s face.
SUV man didn’t give him a chance to say anything. He just held on, looked at her, and said, “Don’t worry, Ms. Marquez. I’ll take care of this.”
Aldo’s eyes literally bugged out of his head. Her answering look was little more than a withering sneer.
That’s right shithead. Mess with any of Family Justice and this is just a tiny taste of the crapstorm coming your way. Hundreds of miles from the compound and yet the long reach of Justice could still be felt.
“Thank you,” she drawled as if she was used to a bodyguard shadowing her every move. “I think I’ll be going now.”
Aldo lurched at her. He wasn’t finished being a dick but her protector held him fast then told him in a plain-spoken voice that was tinged with the suggestion of threats that if he didn’t get on the first plane overseas and promptly forget he ever knew the Marquez family, he was prepared to make him regret that decision. Forever.
She’d remember forever that her last glimpse of Aldo Esperanza was of him gulping, pale and wide-eyed at a brick wall dressed in full tactical gearwho was detailing the many ways he could fuck with him. She believed one of those ways had something to do with a certain someone’s genitals returning to Spain in a paper bag.
And that, she thought derisively, was the end of her Spanish imbroglio. Good riddance—bad rubbish. And dammit if imbroglio wasn’t a five dollar word that didn’t get enough use!
Laughing, she drove away, made haste to the main highway, and turned north—back to her beloved red rocks and the only man she could ever love.
HAUNTING THE DRIVEWAY AND THE front door to the hacienda, Parker survived the long stretch of anxious waiting by pacing back and forth—without pause. If he was still for too long, his mind started cranking and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Knowing he really should have told her why he was so bent this morning instead of pulling a silent act brought him the most illuminating ‘ah-ha’ moment of all times. He saw it so clearly—the thread that wove through everything. He hadn’t said this, he should have told her that. She didn’t know, he hadn’t said.
It hit him like a lightning bolt. As someone who spoke for a living and had a more than adequate grasp on how to move people with words, none of that had ever been part of his behavior with Angie.
How stupid could one guy be? It was a good question he couldn’t answer.
Nice going, shithead.
All that stopped right fucking now. The girl was his, and while she knew it and even encouraged him, she still didn’t fully understand why she belonged to him. In that light, he was staggered that Angie yielded to him at all.
He was also going to have a serious talk with her when she got her ass back here about not taking matters into her own hands and going off on her own.
Pfft. Who the hell was he kidding? This was Angie he was talking about and she’d handle him laying down the law like that just exactly as he knew she would—with a kick in the shins and some haughty dismissal.
Goddammit. He’d take the shin kick and come back for more if she’d just come home. It was killing him that he couldn’t get to her and she’d switched her phone off so all calls dumped into voicemail which just amped him up more.
Oh, yeah . . . and then there was Alex and his terse reminders that as of now, Parker didn’t really have a say in anything that concerned Angie. He was a lawyer, for Christ’s sake, so he knew when he was being played. The message inside his friend’s actions was loud and clear.
What was that obnoxious expression people used in these situations? Something about putting a ring on it? If he wanted to be lord and master, which he did, all the proprieties must be observed. Until he did that, Parker was relegated to the cheap seats and could pretty much eat his boots before he’d get a say.
Angie was starting to feel the energy crash now that her adrenaline wasn’t spiking all over the place. Washing her hands of Aldo’s crap freed up a lot of space inside her—enough to carefully weigh and scrutinize what she had before her so she could get busy making the future she wanted.
From a corner of her mind, she heard the voice of her mother reminding Angie that everything happens for a reason. She’d heard the statement a hundred times, but it never resonated with her until now.
Everything happens for a reason.
Painful truth number one . . . no doubt about it, she’d been way too young before and no amount of loving Parker was going to change that fact. She was barely twenty at the time, and laugh all you want, but Britney still said it best about that holding pattern between being a girl and becoming a woman. Worst possible time to do what they did.
Could they have made it work with the age difference? Back then? Probably not. She wasn’t mature enough on her own to be the partner he needed or the woman she wanted to be. But now? Now was a different story.
Another painful truth was that though she knew Parker loved her, she wasn’t entirely sure he was in love with her, and for Angie, those two things could not be more different or more vitally important.
Everything happens for a reason.
Breaking up with Aldo, leaving Spain, and returning home? Each of those things seemed like the movement of pieces on a chess board or better yet, a puzzle that had her searching for connectors, jagged edges, and corners looking for the perfect fit.
And for her, Arizona was that fit. Something ridiculous to deny as she barreled along in a big SUV dressed like a boot scootin’ cowgirl as the striking southwestern panorama sped by. This was her heart’s home. Where she could fly free.
Everything happens for a reason.
Being at the hacienda and seeing firsthand the love her brother had for his bride-to-be was another milestone on her journey. Even the most jaded of skeptics couldn’t deny that those two gave new meaning and life to outdated concepts like chivalry and the union of souls. And not just Alex. All around her were these amazing examples of love and how it came in all shapes, sizes, forms, and fashions from Cameron and Lacey to Draegyn and Victoria, and though she hadn’t met her uncle’s lady yet, she didn’t doubt that when she did, Calder and Stephanie would take their place on the lover’s podium with everyone else. She wanted that, too. With Parker. So much so that it scared her.
And then there was uncomfortable truth number three hundred and seven. She’d pushed him out of his comfort zone last night and though that could sometimes be a good thing, it took her hours and hours of silence and worry to understand that where honor, integrity, and respect among men was concerned, she’d fucked up.
There was no damn way he could have stopped her and she took advantage of that fact instead of thinking it through. The man had a conscience, thank god, since seeing Aldo again rather bluntly brought home what her life would have been like had she given herself to a man who couldn’t find his fucking conscience with a detailed map and a homing device.
Angie shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat. Her own conscience was being a pain in the ass right now. What she’d done had been all about control and, in all honesty, a bit of payback. She stormed him and took what she wanted, rather li
ke what he’d done to her years ago.
Had she been horny as fuck and ready to jump his bones? Oh, god yes. Coming out of a sleep-induced erotic dream lit the match that set fire to her desires and that, as they say, was that.
Until she saw him hours later and was forced to deal with his obvious turmoil over building a steaming tower of poop on his best friend’s floor by having gotten down and dirty with her, she hadn’t understood how vital those concepts were to both men.
Well, dammit, enough was enough. They were just going to keep screwing up this second chance to get it right if they didn’t slow down and use their heads. Hard to do when the attraction was so overwhelming.
Alex and Meghan had been where she and Parker were and probably so had every other couple—maybe even her mom and dad. It was part of the journey and if they expected to make it, the first thing they had to do was be honest with each other.
That decided, Angie vowed to lay it all out when she saw him. She loved him and even if he didn’t feel the same, there was still something there. Was it enough to build on? It was time she found out, wasn’t it?
“Hey, babe. Look what I found,” Alex boomed as he bounded into their bedroom like an overly excited puppy looking for its master. Carrying a stack of old photos he’d discovered crammed into a brown envelope that fell out of a box shoved to the back of a cabinet in his study, he was eager to share his extraordinary find.
“Where are you?” He laughed loudly when he didn’t immediately see her.
“I’m in here,” she hollered from the huge walk-in wardrobe they shared.
Dashing into the closet, Alex stumbled to a halt when he found her, not rifling through her stuff, but decisively sorting through his.
“Uh . . . what’s this?” he asked bemused by her efforts.
She skipped over and plastered her body against his, kissing him sweetly. “Honey . . . you didn’t think I was going to let you dress yourself for our desert date, did you?”
Swatting her butt playfully, he pushed her back and tsked a couple of times as he shook his head and sighed.
“Woman,” he growled in his best alpha voice, “did you just insinuate that I am clueless in the fashion department?”
She laughed in his face. “You know damn well I did!”
This point was one of endless amusement to them. Before she came along, it wasn’t even slightly unusual for him to throw on an ugly shirt and some equally fugly golf pants covered in beer logos for a jaunt around the local course and then come home and change into whatever his hand touched with no regard for fit, color, or suitability. Had he been a mess? Yep. A certifiable one.
Lightheartedly shoving her away from his side of the wardrobe, he scolded her with a lopsided grin. “I got this, babe. Relax.”
“Mmmm hmmm,” she snickered. “I’ve heard that before.”
Eh, she had a point. No way was he ever living down showing up in a pair of sloppy jeans and a NASCAR t-shirt at a church event Carmen dragged them to that he assumed was weekend casual when everyone else was dressed for a garden party. Funny now, but not so hilarious then.
“Seriously, bride . . . Daddy’s got this.”
Meghan laughed so hard that he had to laugh, too. “I’m making a new rule about you and that Daddy bullshit. Maybe points for each time you say it?” Her mocking simper cracked him right the fuck up.
Openly leering at her, Alex chuckled. “Yeah, about the point thing. That’s getting a little out of hand don’t you think?”
She grinned. “Did you hear me complaining?”
“No,” he answered with a deep chuckle, “but don’t you think we should discuss what happened.”
Whoa. Instant serious. She lowered her eyes a moment and chewed on her lip but quickly recovered and even smiled.
“You mean the kidnapped and fucked thing or the tied up and flogged thing?”
“Both.”
She hadn’t shied away from talking about what they did that day, which was a relief, and she even managed to surprise him by actually saying out loud what he’d worried was a step too far for her.
Not a day went by when he didn’t find more reasons to worship this remarkable woman who meant more to him than air to breathe and what she said next pretty much wrote that sentiment in stone.
“Make sure you pack that thing for the honeymoon.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“Any other requests?” he asked softly.
“Yeah.” She giggled with a furious blush that shot into her face. “Bring the princess plug, too.”
The TSA screeners and customs agents were going to have a field day with their luggage when they hopped continents for their honeymoon. Fun times.
Growling lustfully to her blushing request, he told her quite bluntly, “You do know we’re going to fuck on the plane, right? We’re not shelling out that kind of money on a private charter to haul us over the Atlantic and not mile high ourselves into a sex coma.”
“God, that was sooo romantic,” she teased. Her smirk was pure ball-busting bitch, and he loved the sight.
“What am I to do with you?” he quipped.
“Ahahahaha. You seem to be doing okay, Major.”
He kissed her soundly then eagerly pulled her toward their enormous bed. “Come look at some pictures I found. Old photographs of the Villa before the restoration. Mostly post-war stuff when the place was crumbling. Wanna see?”
Crawling onto the mattress, they got comfortable and started going through a treasure trove of family history. Lost in their own little world, they happily looked at memories of the past while mapping out their unlimited future.
It was sunset. The perfect time to leave the highway and make those last winding turns that led Angie home. Sky blazing with a palette of colors that boggled the mind, she took it all in and let the power of nature fill her up. This was one of those times when she gave thanks that her hippie wild child mother had dropped everything to dance with her girls under a moonlit sky and who never failed to stop and quite literally smell the flowers.
Just before the final turn onto the long drive leading up to the hacienda, she stopped the car and sat quietly for a couple of minutes. This was it. Whatever happened once she got back to the house was only the most important moment in her whole life this far. No more rehearsals or script revisions. She got one shot, one performance, this night only.
No pressure, right?
About an hour ago, when she’d stopped to pee and grab something disgusting to eat from a convenience store, she’d considered turning her phone on but quickly nixed that idea. Her brother running interference at an airport hours away was quite the reminder of the reach Justice had in apparently every damn out-of-the-way corner. Also meant everyone at the Villa was well aware of what she’d been up to. Turning on her phone would no doubt result in finding her voicemail overflowing and a gazillion text messages pending. There weren’t a lot of secrets with Family Justice.
No . . . she was going to do this head-on and simply drive back to the compound and face whatever waited for her.
Habit made her flip the visor down and open the mirror so she could check her appearance—not that she could do anything if she needed to. When she’d stormed after Aldo, all she took was what fit in her pockets. Her little wallet containing ID, some dollars, and credit card. The basics. Oh, yeah, and that tube of lipstick.
One glance at her reflection confirmed that she’d chewed all of the colored gloss off her lips a long time ago. The face looking back at her was completely natural. This was who she was—boots, cutoff jeans, a flannel shirt, no make-up, and running free. Everything else was window dressing.
Angie wasn’t nervous as she drove the last stretch. Frankly, it was too damn late to be nervous. Then, an unexpected calm descended. As the Explorer swung into the constantly cluster-fucked driveway, she wasn’t going to bother driving down to the garage, a rushing sensation echoed in her head and sped like a wildfire through her the second she caught sight of Parker pr
owling the front gate.
He was waiting for her. If anyone else was around, she didn’t know, or care, because everything faded away at the sight of him.
They had locked eyes before she’d even gotten the car parked. Turning off the engine, Angie pushed the car door open as he moved in her direction. The closer he got, the more aware of him she became. It was this connection that never went away—a current arcing back and forth between them—even when they were apart.
Dropping onto the drive, she didn’t hesitate, her boots pounding out a rhythm as she went to claim her destiny.
Parker’s expression looked intense. Worried and relieved at the same time. His mouth in a grim, taut line, he reached out to her while he was still several feet away. “Angel,” he growled, and with that one emotional cry, her life changed forever.
She ran the last couple of steps and went straight into his embrace. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she choked up and barely got out, “Oh god, Parker,” before he crushed her body to his and went to her mouth.
Standing there, her feet no longer on the ground as she clung to him, Angie gave herself up entirely. There was passion in his kiss, but that was just a part of it. She prayed to all the angels up in heaven above that he loved her the same way she loved him.
It took forever for the kissing to slow down, not that she was complaining. When he eventually let her slide down his front until her feet hit the ground, he took hold of her face with both hands and looked into her eyes.
Would he scold her for being reckless like he had when she was a kid? Was he mad at her? Unhappy with her spur-of-the-moment behavior? His kiss hadn’t seemed that way.
Expecting some sort of alpha reaction to her antics, Angie was stunned when he finally spoke. When he didn’t bark commands—she knew immediately by the sound of his voice that he was really upset. Besides the time she saw him barely maintaining when Uncle Matt was in the hospital, she’d never known Parker to be bothered by much of anything.
Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Page 48