Enduring (Family Justice Book 8)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “Park it,” she growled. Pointing at the loveseat she gave him an arched brow stare until he complied. “See,” she teased. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?” Heather leaned in, stroked his handsome face. Brody’s constant scruff was a real turn-on. Softly kissing his sexy mouth was no hardship.

  “The bar is open,” Heather joked. “I will be your mixologist for tonight. What would you like?”

  He finally let go and got less rigid. She could see it when his shoulders relaxed and he twisted his head to loosen the kinks.

  “I’m feeling a bad dad night,” he heavily growled.

  An admission or a concern? Probably both. He rarely tied one on unless it was the two of them and some insane fuckery was on the menu. Or an alcohol get-together with the guys but those occasions were few and far between.

  “That’s what I’m here for, Mr. Jensen,” she chirped. “The deal, remember?”

  Thank god that he chuckled. “Only one of us can be crazy at a time.”

  That summed it up so she clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Bourbon, I think.”

  He looked up at her and offered a feel-sorry-for-me smirk. Her answering grin was pure reflex.

  “The Knob Creek would be nice.”

  She erupted with laughter. “Oh, great! Going straight for the one-hundred proof stuff? Maybe I should order the pizza now.”

  “Bitch,” he growled.

  His wicked smirk did things to her lady parts. “Asshole,” she replied. “One perfect Bourbon Old Fashioned, coming up.”

  She winked and started to go back inside but he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her onto his lap. His fingers were under her dress and inside her panties so fast she yelped with surprise.

  “Brody!”

  That was all she got out before he claimed her mouth and ruthlessly fingered her with thrilling accuracy. Maybe his hospital corner habits were a good thing because what he managed in ninety seconds was nothing short of explosive.

  When he got what he wanted—her total surrender—he chuckled and pushed her off his lap. She rose on unsteady feet and smoothed her sundress into place. When he made a show of licking her off his fingers, she nearly came again from the affects of the aching need he so wickedly unleashed.

  “You are so bad,” she mumbled.

  He grinned. “And soon you’ll be Mrs. Bad.” He swatted her ass and told her to get her ass in gear. “Waiting on my drink,” he drawled with a tap-tap on his watch.

  How the hell did he do that? Go from brooding to lusty overdrive so fast?

  Scurrying into the house, she called for Bella and headed to the drinks cart. “Sweetie. We’re having drinks on the patio. Do you want a Shirley Temple?”

  Georgie zoomed past as Bella’s feet came thudding down the staircase. “Can I have three cherries? Uncle Calder lets me have four,” she crowed.

  Heather sniffed at this reveal. Calder Dane would happily sign over his liver to Bella. So would Finn. And Alex. And Ben. And Cam, and, oh shit—everybody. The girl had some sort of awesome alpha management power at her fingertips that the older ladies could hardly believe!

  “Three will do, I think,” she drawled in her parenting voice. “Fill the ice bucket for me, please.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Bella burbled while scooting around Heather’s legs to grab the silver tub.

  Mom. She sighed and her heart gave a happy shimmy. Adoring Bella was so easy. Their bond was automatic and had grown stronger every day since they met.

  Chatting about nothing as she prepared the drinks, Heather gently prodded until Bella shared her every thought. The outrageous maneuver her daughter along with Molly and Bella’s ride-or-die co-pilot, Matty had pulled on Domineau and Rafe was a wake-up call for all the involved parents.

  Like her and Brody, Roman and Kelly were beside themselves when the story came out. The kid trio’s savvy understanding of Rafe and Domineau’s unusual situation astonished them. Ever since, it seemed like a smart move to pay more attention. These kids were scary smart and not shy about plotting to get what they wanted.

  “Take Georgie out back and tell Daddy I’m bringing a tray.”

  With premeditated simplicity, Heather made sure that Brody relaxed and enjoyed some daddy-daughter time. They sipped their drinks and talked as a family. She cherished these moments and knew that he did too. It was true what people said—the best things in life were simple.

  Shirley Temple and three cherries demolished, Bella signaled she was done with them and went back inside to continue organizing her insane collection of Barbie crap. The girl had a thing for order. The fastest way to make her nuts was to be messy and chaotic.

  Heather wasted no time redirecting Brody the minute Bella left them alone. “Tell me what happened.”

  “How do you know something happened? Maybe it’s just a shitty day.”

  Yeah, um—no. She wasn’t having it.

  “Nice try.” She pointed at her face and smiled. “Counselor, remember?

  “I’m just being a dick,” he admitted before downing the dregs of his drink, which at this point was mostly melting ice. He scooted to make room. “Sit beside me.”

  “Do you want another drink?”

  His answer was quick and sure. “No. Knee jerk behavior, sorry. Look,” he murmured. Taking her hand he entwined their fingers and held it close. “There’s no lead up and I wish we had time to take everything in but that’s not the cards we’re playing.”

  “I’m a big girl, honey. It will be all right. Go on.”

  “Cutting to the chase and working back,” he explained and then took a deep breath. “Somebody is fucking with Alex. Tradecraft with a cartoon overlay of Boris and Natasha. Been quietly developing on the side but shit went to an eleven today.”

  “Were you involved?”

  “Starring role,” he said with a slight grimace. “Got a call about a drone flying in my sector. There was no daylight between the alert and me going off into the desert. With a sniper’s rifle.”

  “Oh, what?”

  He nodded and stared at their joined hands. “Instinct or habit—don’t know which. Tracked it to the edge of my zone and disabled it with one shot. Remy had my back and we located the wreckage. The damn thing had a self destruct and blew up right in front of us.”

  Well, damn. That didn’t sound good. “Who would do that?”

  Brody looked at her—his expression full of unspoken meaning. “Long story, short. We have a situation.”

  It was hard to swallow and she regretted her empty drink.

  “Don’t overreact to this because I have to tell you.”

  She blinked in slow motion and murmured, “Go on.”

  “All the families are getting round the clock protection. Alex insists and you know how that goes. Refusing isn’t an option. Bella will have a bodyguard too. Nothing obvious—Justice isn’t a do-it-yourself business. I’m telling you because from now on, you keep your head on a swivel. At all times.”

  “Brody, dear lord,” she muttered. “What’s going on?”

  “We don’t know and that’s the thing. The Major feels it’s directed at him. Until he figures it out, we do what we’re told.”

  “When you say everybody …”

  “It means everybody,” he explained. “All the kids, every family. Extended family for the originals. When Roman, Kelly and Matty bug out after Labor Day, they’ll have the same protection on the East Coast.”

  Her relief at this pronouncement was immediate. She had a close relationship with Kelly. Someday they’d be mothers-in-law together—she was sure of it.

  At this moment though, she needed some clarification before the minutiae clouded her thoughts. “What got to you? Taking the shot or the aftermath?”

  “There was a moment when I was racing across the desert floor on my work bike and I felt the gun stock bouncing against me with every bump, that I could honestly taste the dust of war. It was … unsettling.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  “I’
m sorry you had to go through that,” she whispered close to his face. Her kiss felt necessary and was eagerly accepted.

  “Here’s the thing,” he heavily sighed. Putting his forehead to hers he said, “I’d do anything for Alex. For Justice. Take a bullet—fire a bullet. In the moment, both things were equal. I never felt that when the military was sending the orders. This was different. Know what I mean?”

  Alex Marquez was one in a trillion. Men like him inspired the best in others. She viewed his natural leadership differently than Brody. Alex wasn’t so much about directing and commanding as he was about elevating everything around him. He brought out people’s highest angels and most diabolical demons. That kind of power produced intense loyalty.

  She moved to assure her man with words of support. “You did the right thing. You always do the right thing, Brody Jensen. It’s why I love you.”

  He snickered. Of course he did. When all was said and done, she was a woman and he was a man with a one-track mind and a powerful libido.

  “I thought my battering ram dick was why you agreed to be mine.”

  Oh, hell no! Her mind giggled. That kind of arrogance demanded a pithy response. “We have very different interpretations of battering ram,” she quipped through pursed lips. “You have yet to produce the legendary unable to walk the next day phenomenon. Seems to me like a true battering ram wouldn’t have a problem delivering on the threat.”

  “Give me your panties.”

  “What?”

  “Shimmy your sexy ass out of that scrap of nothing and give ‘em to me.”

  She sniffed. “Will I be hearing a please?”

  “Hell, no,” he scoffed. His sexy snarl and the way her pussy reacted guaranteed things were about to get interesting.

  She squirmed and scooted around until the panties were in a crumpled ball in her hand. “I’m trusting you not to embarrass me,” she said with droll emphasis as she handed them off.

  He stuffed them in his pocket and grinned like a well-pleased man. She was staring into his gorgeous eyes when the sound of a zipper got her undivided attention. When she looked down, he pulled his rigid cock from his pants and stroked.

  “Turn and get on.”

  Heather gasped at the audacious command. Her eyes moved to the sliding doors. Bella was occupied and wasn’t likely to reappear until they hollered that dinner was ready. Was fucking Brody in broad daylight, outside, while clothed a wicked thing to do? Yep. But isn’t this what all parents did? Find those spontaneous moments of total debauched hedonism wrapped inside everyday life?

  She barely hesitated. Her body was still ready from her earlier orgasm. She stood, pushed his legs together, straddled facing out, flipped up the back of her dress and moved around until her body caught his dick. When she found it and lowered enough to guarantee a full plunge, Heather grunted with the effort and dropped like a stone onto his hardness. The fullness took her breath away. Her hand came out searching for an anchor. He grabbed her wrist and surged upward.

  “Brody,” she groaned.

  He put his hand on her neck and pushed until she was bent at the waist while impaled on his cock with her thighs spread wide. Each time he thrust upward, she whimpered and flooded with arousal.

  “Hands behind your back,” he grunted. She grasped her wrists and swayed. The pleasure was too much.

  He kept his hand on her neck and wrapped the other arm tightly around her waist. After that it was a ferocious barrage of grunting thrusts that made her pussy quiver. She spiraled out of control in record time. Brody’s cock subdued her with the fury of his fucking. Pushing her down he thrust up with a harsh grunt and stopped.

  Her body went wild. Every muscle tensed and quivered. A powerful rush of filthy, unbridled lust tore through her. She squeezed with all her might and felt the cold shadows creep close. Her pussy demanded release. He answered her need. His cock swelled and thudded against her inner walls and exploded deep inside. The fierce rhythmic pulses of her climax took everything from her and she shuddered into near collapse. Her brain emptied and she floated on a wave of bliss.

  “Heather. Honey. Come back, baby.”

  She felt Brody’s lips pressing soft kisses on her face and reached up to stroke his cheek. Speech felt too complicated so she went with touch instead.

  “This isn’t over,” he growled before nipping her earlobe. “You disrespected my cock and need to learn your place.”

  That got her eyes open in a hurry. She tried to sit but he had her across his lap. When she found his eyes he was clearly amused.

  “You will serve your family dinner and put our daughter to bed. Then, I want your ass beautifully naked and waiting for me on the Tantra Chair.”

  Did he know she melted when he did this? Heather responded with embarrassing eagerness whenever her alpha bad boy laid down some lord and master shtick.

  “Obviously you need to be reminded,” he silkily drawled.

  His words sounded ominous and she responded with throbbing awareness. Reminding her, the way he put it, sounded like something she would enjoy.

  Chapter 11

  Smacking the holy crap out of the coffeemaker probably didn’t help, but how the hell was she supposed to react when the damn thing hissed at her and then died?

  “Stupid piece of made in China crap,” she darkly grumbled.

  Yanking the plug from the wall with excess force, Remy picked the machine up, dumped out the water, and stomped off. If she could get away with it and not have to answer questions, she’d march outside her front door onto the second-floor balcony and toss the fucking thing over the railing.

  Halfway wishing she could just overreact and have the freak-out simmering below her surface, Remy wasn’t sure what she intended to do when she flung the apartment door open.

  The last thing she expected—the actual last thing—was Domineau Rivera about to knock.

  Her throat immediately closed, and she forced a swallow. The serene expression looking back at her was, in a word, unnerving. Domineau was a lot of things, but serene was a stretch.

  The sharp-eyed woman noticed the offending coffeemaker Remy clutched and snicker-smirked as she leaned a hand on the doorjamb in a casual pose.

  Casual was also not in Domineau’s repertoire.

  Jesus. Was she being set up for an intervention or something?

  “Ah,” Domineau remarked in a cool voice. She arched a brow and motioned to the dead appliance. “Making a sacrifice to the convenience gods this morning?”

  Remy scowled. “If I had a gun handy, this piece of garbage would be target practice.”

  “You should try a coffee press. Makes a better brew and won’t fuck up your morning with attitude.”

  “What are you doing here?” When her left eye twitched, she struggled to come across as unperturbed but suspected the snappish tinge to her voice was a giveaway.

  She hadn’t been alone with Domineau since that night when she showed up at Pete’s and between shots of Finn’s tequila reserve calmly said the words that Remy desperately wanted to hear but struggled with nonetheless.

  The setting was surreal. Surrounded by people and noise, Remy had been sitting at the end of the bar talking to Barry and Finn when Domineau strolled in. The tall, impossible-to-miss woman had a habit of appearing out of nowhere, and no matter where she was, it always seemed like she owned the place.

  Without a hello, she sat down next to Remy and told Finn she wanted a shot from his personal stash. Barry wisely faded away and out came the Don Julio 1942 with three glasses. He poured each of them a shot that they tossed back without comment.

  Their three empty shot glasses slammed the bar top one at a time. Domineau tapped hers, and Finn poured another.

  She remembered Finn searching her face with a question on his. A shrug was all she had. As far as Remy could tell, nobody understood Domineau. She was a woman who didn’t invite speculation—not if keeping your balls intact was a goal.

  After slamming the empty glass on the bar,
the female badass unwrapped a piece of gum from a pack she made materialize out of thin air, slid it in her mouth, and finally looked at them.

  Her manner was easygoing as she folded the silver gum wrapper and made some origami thing. And then, like she was a roommate telling them the laundry room was available, she chewed the gum and said. “It’s done.”

  An explosion worthy of the Richter scale detonated inside her. She’d waited an eternity for justice but suddenly the justice she sought felt a bit more like revenge, and she wasn’t sure how to react.

  But that was then and this is now. As to why she was here, now, Domineau straightened and gave Remy a smirk.

  “Get dressed, Remington. We’re going on a vision quest.”

  Hello, 1979. A vision quest? What was this? A Hippies-R-Us convention?

  Juggling the coffeemaker in her arms, she snarled, “Say what?”

  “A vision quest. Give me that.” Domineau sniggered. She ripped the coffeepot from her hands, turned around, walked to the railing, and tossed it over. Remy bolted forward to watch as it sailed for a second and then went crashing to the pavement below.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she growled. “How the hell didn’t that pot shatter into a million pieces?”

  Domineau laughed and smacked her on the back. “Lady, that’s the universe saying, nice try. Now get dressed and let’s go.”

  She stomped into the apartment, got halfway into the living room, and turned with her arms defiantly crossed.

  “Uh, not gonna happen. I have work to do and …”

  With a dismissive wave of her hand, Domineau cut her off at the knees. “Your boss – who happens to be moi - approved personal time. End of discussion. Get dressed, Bisset. Meet me downstairs in ten.”

  There was a stream of negative consciousness on the tip of Remy’s tongue, but Domineau simply turned and walked away, leaving her to argue with empty space.

  “Fuck.”

  Slamming the door was childish as shit, but that didn’t stop her.

  Five minutes later and still grumbling, she was shoving clean undies and an overnight kit into a small knapsack when it dawned that she knee-jerked and obeyed when a commanding officer barked. She wanted to rebel and refuse to give up power, but then again, this was Domineau Rivera. The sobering thought made Remy square her shoulders.