Unchained (7 page)

In the end, though, it was Brody’s decision to meet them head-on and school all those motherfuckers in a way they’d never forget. He’d done his duty and had the scars and lingering PTSD to prove it. The black suits out at Quantico were kidding themselves for thinking he’d jump to attention just because Uncle Sam came snapping his red, white, and blue fingers.

No fucking way. His days of peering through a gun scope were over, and unless it involved saving the planet from aliens or defending humanity against a zombie apocalypse, his sniper days were behind him. And that included using him as some sort of gun toting Grand Wizard teaching his ways to hordes of young soldiers just waiting to join the fight.

Hardly.

Nope. His life was transformed. By no less than the Justice brothers themselves. He was going to have a dream job as managing director of the Justice Canine Program. It still boggled his mind that they offered him a seat at the big kid’s table. Now he, Heather, and, amazingly, his daughter were starting a brand new life.

Could shit get any better?

T
HE SUN FELT
good on her face, but that didn’t stop Stephanie from reaching up to reposition the hat she wore partly for protection and partly because Calder thought the cowgirl style made her look cute.

Cute.
A smile accompanied her silent laugh. Did she still qualify for ‘cute’ when her fiftieth birthday was just days away? Apparently, her sexy boyfriend thought so.

Boyfriend. This time, the smile and laugh weren’t something she could hold in. She was cute, goddammit! And she had a boyfriend. Fifty was the new
Oh, my god
, and she intended to make the next year her best yet.

The sound of hooves thundering from behind got louder as a horse approached. No need to turn around and see who it was. Her smile widened until it hurt.

A gorgeous blond mustang trotted alongside and adjusted its pace to match hers. The horse was new—a recent acquisition courtesy of the big denim-clad man astride its back. And the sole reason he’d purchased the beast? Because of its color. She had it on good authority that Calder Dane was quite partial to blondes these days.

A short quack of laughter had escaped her throat before Stephanie managed an awkward cough to cover up the amusement swirling inside. Was anything more appealing than an overprotective man? She doubted it. With the Justice compound and Marquez Villa being ground zero for badass alphas suffering from terminal vigilance where their women and families were concerned, it was a trait she encountered on a daily basis.

Readjusting her grip on the reins, she quickly glanced to the side and then looked away. After a dramatic sigh, she pursed her lips and flipped the Southern Belle switch, opting for full twang with a saucy bite.

“What took you so long, shugah? Po’ little me needed rescuing, at least, three times since I left the stable.”

Calder’s wickedly hot chuckle snaked around every active nerve ending in her body. “Duchess,” he drawled, “you were told not to venture out into the desert by yourself. Rescuing you would not be necessary if you had just obeyed.”

Obeyed! As if. Arching an eyebrow, she fixed him with her best ‘Eat shit’ expression. “Got a belt buckle that says you’re an ass.”

Both horses whinnied in unison as his laugh rang out across the desert floor. “Zip it, rodeo gal. Don’t care how many barrel races you won as a kid. And just to be clear, that belt buckle won’t stop me from hauling your Georgia-peach ass over my lap for an old-fashioned spanking.”

Trying to appear indignant—difficult to do when you’re struggling not to laugh—she flipped her hair and shot him a pointed glare.

“What is it with you Justice boys and this fascination with spanking? Did y’all spit sideways into the wind and swear a drunken oath under the desert moon to earn bottom slapping privileges?”

“Maybe.” An eyebrow waggle accompanied Calder’s teasing reply. Could he be more adorable? “And don’t play coy with me, woman. You like getting your ass smacked.”

“Hush.” She snickered. “A lady never admits to enjoying such brutish behavior.”

He laughed some more. “You don’t have to admit shit, Stephanie. Your beautiful ass and my smacking hand are so well acquainted that pretending to have an aversion to my brutish ways is pointless.”

A quick yank on the reins and her horse instantly halted. “Stop changing the subject.”

“The subject, as I recall, was your failure to abide by my directives, followed by an empty threat involving a buckle, and the assurance by me that even on horseback, I can spank your disobeying ass.”

Muttering darkly, she looked at him with eyes obscured by a glowering frown. “That damn word was invented by men. Obey,” she spit out. “I mean, really?”

When she stopped her horse, his continued a few steps before Calder pulled the Mustang alongside hers. Close enough that it was easy for him to reach out and wrap a big, warm hand around her neck.

“Got a complaint, have you? Kiss your lord and master with that irascible mouth and I’ll present your grievance at the next Justice Boys’ club meeting.”

“Lord and master?” She shrieked a scant second before his mouth descended and she forgot her name, forgot where they were, and forgot to care about anything except the thrill of his lips claiming hers.

Tasting desire, his and hers, Stephanie surrendered. It was always like this with Calder. He said more with one kiss than her heart could contain. And it only got better the longer they were together. Believing love was nothing but a brief memory from her long-ago past, she’d replaced the dated opinion with a soulful revelation. She loved this man with unquestioned depth and sincerity.

The kiss was getting interesting having flown right past seduce before detouring to devour when his mouth unexpectedly lifted away. Scrambling for oxygen and some understanding, she squirmed in the saddle and prayed against tumbling awkwardly onto her butt.

Grabbing the pommel for support, Stephanie looked around, saw where Calder’s attention was directed, and turned to see what the heck was happening.

Five large black SUVs were speeding along the access road to the Villa. Her brows shot up with alarm. Whatever this was, it involved the family and not the agency.

She glanced at Calder. His hands were tense, and his posture screamed high alert. It was still early. Stephanie wasn’t stupid. She loved her morning ride but had enough sense to head out early before the killer Arizona summer sun made it too hot to think. A squad of ominous vehicles flying toward the Villa not long after the ass crack of dawn didn’t evoke feelings of joy.

Something was obviously up. “That doesn’t look good,” she worriedly murmured.

“Government cars.”

“How can you tell?”

He didn’t respond, just sat there staring with a serious scowl settling on his handsome face. “Come on.” He urged his horse on and jerked his head at her to follow.

“Calder …” She stopped abruptly.

The fear in her voice must have spread to her face because his frown lightened and he locked eyes with her. “Honey, it’ll be fine, but we won’t know anything until we get to wherever they’re headed, so let’s just get moving. Okay?”

Taking off in a steady trot, they reined their mounts toward the main house, riding side-by-side in silence. She could sense the anxiety rolling off him in waves.

Calder assumed responsibility for the entire compound in Alex’s absence. He and Parker shared legal control of the whole shebang while Cameron and Draegyn ran the agency and looked after the physical property.

Draegyn.
Oh, no
. Apprehension thumped heavily in her belly.
Please don’t let this involve him. Please.
Things were already rocky at the St. John household. Her daughter was putting on a great act, but Stephanie saw right through the charade. Victoria and Drae needed to catch an extended break, and a parade of speeding SUVs didn’t qualify.

At the Marquez stable, they handed off their mounts to one of the newer barn hands and made quick work of making sure the horses were cared for. Running in and out of the bathroom with all the haste Stephanie could muster, she dialed back her anxiety half a notch when she found Calder waiting nearby, busily texting. Not having to pee so badly made it easier for her to think straight.

“Who?”

He didn’t bother to question what she was asking.

“Cameron.”

They stared at each other. She nodded and shuffled her feet. “What do you need to do?”

“I should get down there.”

He hesitated so slightly she almost missed it. Highly tuned to each other, the brief pause let her know he was outside his comfort zone. With Cam on the hot seat, this situation was undoubtedly a Justice matter.

Going to him, she stroked a hand up and down his arm. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“Yes.” Strong. Firm. No uncertainty whatsoever.

Stephanie reached and slid her hand into his grasp. “The boys know what they’re doin’, darlin’.” The twang was back. He noticed and smirked.

“I swear to god,” he growled while squeezing her fingers and pulling her to walk with him. “If this messes up your birthday, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Seriously? Stephanie looked at him with unguarded astonishment. A Justice situation was in motion, and he was thinking about her birthday?

She was still ruminating on Calder’s odd reaction after he bundled her into a waiting two-seat Polaris Ranger and took off down the lane toward the Cameron cabin.

“Here you go, sweetie,” Lacey cooed as she dropped a small handful of Cheerios onto Dylan’s highchair tray. “One at a time!”

She chuckled at her son’s mischievous expression when he scooped a bunch of the crunchy O’s into his chubby little hand and shoved them all into his mouth. Seeing two stuck to his cheek made her laugh harder and got the happy baby bouncing gleefully and smacking his hand on the chair’s tray.

Because it was so early, both of them were still dressed in their jammies. Dylan was sporting a onesie that read
I am a Jedi like my Father before me
. Cameron picked it up at a kids’ boutique last time they shopped in Vegas. It was so apropos she wished he’d gotten one in every size up to a 3XL so their son would have a ready supply as he grew up.

She was barefoot, hair in a messy pony, and wearing no makeup. The thin white camisole she threw on along with a plain pair of panties was beneath her favorite robe—a soft pink cashmere shortie with a double wrap sash.

At that particular moment, she was damn glad for the efficient sash because she wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Finding herself barely half-dressed and under the stern, watchful eye of a complete stranger standing ominous guard in the kitchen doorway was not how she saw this morning unfolding.

Thinking she should wipe her son’s face, Lacey started for the washroom just off the kitchen when the hulking sentry who watched her like a hawk moved in front of her.

“Sorry, ma’am.” The hand he held up to prevent her from moving about freely showed a tribal tattoo wrapping around his wrist. It reminded her of the one decorating her husband’s muscled bicep.

Annoyed, she crossed her arms and stared down her polite guard. This was her home, darn it. Who the heck did he think he was telling her she couldn’t go to the bathroom?