“WITH ALL DUE respect, sir,” Cam bit out. “Ma’am,” he added with a terse nod at the woman currently worrying a path into the wood floor with her constant back and forth. “But I don’t think you’re hearing me. This isn’t a good time for me to be off-site. Now, if we’re talking a satellite connection from here …” He left off the rest, but they knew what he was getting at.
If his unexpected guests were anyone except who they were, he’d have been a lot less respectful. Or receptive. But being a rude ass dick to one of the top supervisory agents in the Secret Service and the chairman of a hush-hush secret intelligence committee just wasn’t done. He still had enough military inside him to recognize when to snap to attention and when to flip the bird.
“As you already know, Major Marquez is out of the country indefinitely.”
Alex’s name held a hefty amount of gravitas, so he made sure to toss it out as a reminder of where they were and who the hell they were dealing with.
“At the present time, my responsibilities remain here. In Arizona.”
Chairman Johnson eyed him dispassionately. The man was a notorious hard-ass. He’d have to be in order to do what he does, Cam thought. His serious expression reminded him that here was a guy who knew the dirty. The real deal. Not the sanitized, heavily edited pabulum the press served up.
Mix in the Secret Service with whatever Johnson had on his plate and some serious shit was underway.
Fuck my life. Cam said nothing, but the sense of impending surrender to forces mightier and much more powerful than Justice made its way into his consciousness.
“We aren’t asking, Mr. Cameron. This isn’t a request. No shitting around. Your country needs you. A serious situation affecting the delicate balance of bullshit versus the U.S. exists, and you have certain skills,” he said with a hypocritically patronizing sneer that made Cam want to throw a punch.
Yep. Here we go, he thought with brittle irritation. These guys would just never let him be.
Special Agent in big-time charge, Adrienne Giroux stopped pacing and shut down the entire conversation.
“Gentlemen. Time to buck up. This back and forth is useless and wasting time. Cameron,” she snapped, “pack a bag and let’s get going. We’re talking about the Vice President’s grandson, so let me be blunt. Either you locate and get him out of there, or we face the real possibility of an all-out war of retribution.”
Cam rolled his head and neck to release some of the excruciating tension gripping him. Search and rescue in what was essentially a terrorist’s stronghold. Objective—save a life and possibly democracy itself.
Fuck.
Knowing he was cornered and feeling peeved about it, Cam shoved his hand into a pocket and gave his high-level handlers a dour glare.
“What’s in it for me?” He used the dick-ish question as a way to buy time while he thought.
“Why, the gratitude of a grateful nation, of course,” Johnson snidely replied.
“David,” Special Agent Giroux snapped, “give it a rest.” With a rueful smirk, she asked Cam, “What can we do for you, Jason? Is it okay if I call you Jason?”
No. It wasn’t okay. Not okay at all.
“For the purpose of this discussion and any further meetings, you can refer to me as Cameron Justice. Use my birth name again and, frankly, you can all go fuck yourselves.” He turned a withering expression of utter contempt on both of them. “Don’t treat me like an imbecile.” He was hollering and didn’t care. “You both have my entire dossier on your phones. What? Did you think I’d piss my pants because of a deliberate taunt? You know what?” he suddenly growled. “On second thought, fuck you sideways. You messed with the wrong guy this time. Just toddle on back to your superiors and tell them you acted like assholes and I wasn’t having it. If you guys need to ass fuck a decorated veteran to make yourselves feel important, well …”
His crossed arms and aggressive tone finished the thought. Giroux’s pursed lips and drawn-on brows bumping together let Cam know he’d struck a nerve.
They weren’t going to let go that easily. He knew that. But by calling them on their shit and issuing a threat, he now had more than just a couple of chips in the game.
No surprise when Johnson issued a threat of his own. “Don’t mess with the big boys, son, or you could find yourself selling whistles on a street corner for a living.”
“Enough!” the venerable lady snapped irritably. “I don’t need a fucking pissing contest!”
Cam fought not to laugh.
“Mr. Cameron,” she said with pointed precision. “We have to leave this house now. Don’t force my hand. Either come willingly or I’ll be compelled to act on the authority of the President and take you out of here by force if necessary.”
Just as he suspected. The polite dog and pony show had run out of time.
Dismissing the politician with the bad attitude, he fixed on the clear power in the room.
“Ma’am,” he began respectfully. “I want a half hour to get my responsibilities in order.” He arched an eyebrow to let her know he meant business.
“Fifteen minutes,” she countered.
“Half an hour, Agent Giroux, or call in the big guns and drag me out by force.”
After a few moments of eyeball combat, she finally relented without actually saying so. “May I use the restroom? Could use a quick refresh.”
The clock was ticking. “Other side of the front door,” he answered with a jerk of his head. “Move your people away from the house immediately. I’ll meet you in the driveway in thirty.”
And then he was racing down the hallway to Lacey. He found her in the kitchen with Calder and Stephanie. The second their eyes met, he felt her fear. Aware of the minutes flashing by, he spoke quickly and succinctly to Calder.
“You and Stephanie take Dylan and go to Drae’s.”
Calder asked, “What do these fuckers want?”
He sighed deeply. “What people?”
Calder nodded. He didn’t have to say another word.
Going to his wife, Cam took her hand, squeezed, and held on tight. Stephanie was already pulling Dylan out of his high chair.
“I need to talk to my wife,” he told them solemnly. “She’ll meet you at Drae’s.”
Stephanie hurriedly brought his son to him and cheerfully urged Dylan to, “Give Daddy a kiss.”
Two baby kisses later, he ruffled his boy’s mop of hair and chuckled as he saw what his onesie said.
“The force is strong with my son,” he announced with beaming pride. Lacey started to tremble. They didn’t have much time. Without another word, he pulled her deeper into the house and headed for his study where he quickly closed them in and locked the door.
Looking at his sweet, sweet Ponytail, he memorized everything about her. The length of tanned legs sticking out beneath the hem of her robe. Her bare feet and how she’d painted her toenails a light shade of pink. The half-assed ponytail and how adorable she looked with a freshly scrubbed face. She looked exactly like the young girl he’d rescued from a mugging just a year and a half ago.
His wife might be young, but she’d survived cruel abandonment by a heartless parent and endured a life on the streets. Lacey Cameron had more grit and backbone than the whole team of badass motherfuckers prowling outside his house. She might be scared shitless, but she’d never show it. No way.
“Tell me.”
He glanced at the clock before answering. “They’re calling me in,” he answered somberly. She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “Search and rescue.” At that, she stiffened, but he continued. Time was moving too fast. “High-level target.”
“Shit,” she muttered.
He reacted to her uncharacteristic swearing with little more than a cursory nod. They both knew this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill situation.
Flying at him from where she stood, Lacey threw her arms around him and started pressing kisses all over his face. “I love you,” she ground out as desperation vibrated off her skin.
Responding in kind, he tried to speak between the frantic kissing. “You and Dylan will be all right. Tell Calder I’ll try to keep in touch. I think you should stay with Draegyn and Victoria. I don’t want you to be alone.”
He was tearing the robe off her quaking body. A flash fire of frenzied desire raged around them. The flimsy camisole underneath went next. Then he simply tore her panties to shreds.
“I need you,” she cried with soul-crushing anguish.
Fearing he’d lose his mind if he didn’t get inside her in a hurry, Cam barely managed to sweep the desk clear before picking her up and slamming her on her back.
Tearing open his jeans, it took mere seconds to shove the denim and his briefs down his thighs and the same length of time to push his inflamed cock into her slick heat.
She gripped his arms and held on tight as Cam completely lost control and ferociously fucked her with an astonishing rhythm and intensity. Leaning over her, he grabbed his wife by the head, and tongue fucked her at the same time.
Grunting wildly with each possessive thrust, he stopped long enough to grind against her. She whimpered and tightened the hold her thighs had around his waist.
Staring into Lacey’s deep blue eyes, he jerkily growled. “I need you to come, sweet girl. When I leave here, it’s with you all over my cock.”
“Oh my god, Cameron,” she cried huskily.
The pulsing of her orgasm started and grew with tremendous force until her pussy squeezed him to a mind-blowing climax, and he filled her as his cock jerked and throbbed.
Kissing her back to earth, he made all the promises a man forced away from his wife made. Telling her over and over of his love, he promised to make their separation a short one.
He was pulling up his jeans as she sat on the desk and slid her arms and head into the camisole. She watched him shove his come-covered cock into his briefs. Her eyes met his, and a sly smile played at the corners of her mouth.
Scooting down, she stood with an uneasy expression and reached for her robe, quickly pulling it around her. He knew the second she realized her panties were in useless tatters.
“I don’t want you anywhere near those assholes, baby.” She bit her lip and nodded. “Stay here, Ponytail. I’m going to run upstairs and grab my go-bag. I’ll come back before I leave.” Pointing at the computer, he added, “Bring up our email and the message center for the business office. When I come down, I’ll leave something for Drae.”
Lacey lasted at the St. John’s for three days. Long enough for a brief first contact with her husband and for all her bravado to wither and fall away.
He was someplace he couldn’t say. Drae said that meant he was with the dark ops people. Probably in the Middle East or possibly Africa. For a conversation lasting less than four minutes, a lot of nothing was said. He couldn’t talk, and she was so busy putting on a happy face that the whole thing was uncomfortable.
Would he be home soon? Probably not for a few weeks. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to start crying. A few weeks? A few weeks? Holy mother. Stephanie’s birthday was this weekend, and just weeks later, Dylan turned one.
When the secure satellite call ended, she asked Victoria to give her a moment alone with Draegyn.
Alex and Meghan were still away although at least now they were back on U.S. soil. Her husband, the father of her son, was dancing to the government’s heavy-handed tune. Drae and Tori were acting big-time strange, and unless she got some sleep soon, Lacey was afraid she’d fall apart for good.
“I’m going home,” she told him straightaway. He tried to interrupt, but she held her hand up and plowed ahead.
“Draegyn St. John, I am not a wimp. You do not have to hold my hand. I knew what I was getting into when I married Cameron. Please don’t try to change my mind, Drae. I’m tired. Cranky. Worried. Just let me do what’s best for my son and me. I want to be at home when my husband comes back. And besides, having two little ones to guard is making Raven crazy.”
She loved Draegyn like a brother. He knew Cameron better than anybody did, and it was easy to put her trust in him. He’d let her go. Kind of had to. But she also knew he’d keep a close eye on her and Dylan anyway. That unspoken bond of Justice brothers’ mojo was powerful stuff. Cameron was counting on him, but she had to bring some sort of normalcy back to her day-to-day.
Slinging an arm around her neck, he tugged her in, but instead of a hug, he went full noogie—lightly grinding his knuckles on her forehead.
“Ponytail, you’re gonna get my ass kicked, lady!”
She shoved him away with a sharp grunt and a genuine laugh. “Watch it, buster, or I’ll have to challenge you to a pole dance duel.”
He mimed a perfect imitation of his bad arrogant self—pretending to tug on his cuffs and adjust an invisible tie.
“The Justice men do not wiggle on poles, my dear.”
She giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth.
“If we want to see guys making fools of themselves, we’ll hire people to do it or find a way to trick someone.”
Lacey rushed into his arms and hugged him tight. “Draegyn. Tell me everything’s okay.”
He didn’t balk at all as he quickly answered. After a quick squeeze, he kissed her forehead and gave her a meaningful look. “Cam is the best at what he does. Whatever that is,” he joked with a sardonic smirk. “If ya ask me, they implanted a tracking chip in him or something because, honest to Christ, Lace, he finds the needle in a haystack and then uses it to pick his teeth clean without ever breaking a sweat.”
“I know,” she quickly assured. What he did didn’t bother her. It was all the secrecy and ominous men dressed in tight-ass black that worried her. This was no ordinary seek and find.
“It’s just that it scares me when he leaves the country. It’s dangerous on the other side of the world. Anything can happen.”
Drae leaned against a counter and scrubbed a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “The world’s a fucked-up place, honey. Anything can happen right here too.”
She said what she thought when her husband told her he’d be gone for a few weeks. “It’ll kill him if he misses his son’s birthday.”
Substitute Big Daddy puffed up like he was entrusted with a sacred burden and told her gravely, “Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Cameron. I know what Cam wants for Dylan’s big day. He’ll be here, honey. But just in case he parachutes in at the last moment, I’m on top of things.”
Remembering what Tori told her about the comical Dad-inspired rivalry springing up between the two close friends, she grinned and pretended to fan herself.
“Oh, thank sweet baby Jesus. Po’ lil ol’ me couldn’t possibly plan a one-year-old’s party without professional help.”
Drae roared at her dead-on impersonation of his Southern Belle mother-in-law.
“Oh, and by the way, shugah? I think the ladies need to challenge you boys to a pole dance-off. Time to find out how deep that alpha nonsense goes.”