Meghan was dreading the moment she and Alex were alone. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining her actions. Hell, she could barely understand it herself. All she knew was that when she saw Alex with his face practically pressed into some little cunt’s boobs, her dark side reacted.

She had it under control until the twat compounded the affront by dismissing her after a cursory look. Feelings she hated swamped her, and that only made things worse.

Using a tortilla chip to scoop up a glob of guacamole, Meghan stuffed the triangle wedge into her mouth and licked her fingers, then followed that with a shot of Jameson. The combination wasn’t that bad.

Three loaded chips later, she wiped her mouth on a napkin and sat there silently hating herself.

Her hand swept the fabric of the vintage dress that she thought was perfect for tonight until a busty homewrecker looked at her with pity. What was wrong with how she dressed? The classy, cinched-waist fit and flare full skirt made the most of her assets while disguising her fat ass. The distinctive 1950s retro fashion looked good on her. Or so she thought.

A hand wrapped around the back of her neck. She froze.

“Don’t make me say it, Meghan.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and mentally cursed. “Shit.” It was Alex, and he was still using that voice. The one she couldn’t ignore. She knew what he demanded. Her head slowly turned until she faced him enough for their eyes to meet.

“Are we in a fight?” he asked.

Ouch. She cringed at his question. “I don’t know. Are you mad at me?”

“Let’s not fling words around, okay? I’m confused. We’ll leave it at that. For now.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“Meghan, look at me.”

She did.

“Do you really think I behaved inappropriately, or that ignorant behavior like ogling some tits is something I’d do?”

“No,” she grumbled. “It wasn’t you, and I’m sorry for saying what I did. It was that girl. She was out of line,” she insisted with passionate vehemence.

“And?”

She snapped at him for no reason. “That girl doesn’t care that I’m your wife. She looked at me like I was fat and stupid.”

“Why does it matter what she thinks? She’s nobody. Fuck, I mean I don’t even know her name.”

Trying to explain the unexplainable wasn’t going to help. Men never understood what went on between women. Her husband might think she was delusional for feeling the way she did. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know her name or that she was completely forgettable. What mattered to Meghan was the way she felt at that moment. When the girl looked her over and found her amusing enough to laugh at, every self-loathing thought that survived her girlhood created a cacophony of negative in her head.

“Never mind,” she muttered. Spying the empty shot glass, she spun around and waved the waitress over. “Jameson’s. Neat. And a Glenfiddich, same.”

Alex unexpectedly took her mouth in a bruising, demanding kiss. “I want that shit in your head shut down. Understand? You’re my woman. End of story. I would never intentionally disrespect you, but this business with you flying off isn’t healthy, and if you keep it up, we’ll be having a talk.”

She didn’t argue.

Purposely avoiding the Kelly scene in the billiards room and having no interest in watching the bull riders, she was working up a sweat on the dance floor a shot or two later as a local DJ entertained the bar crowd.

Alex was a fantastic partner and kept up with her manic gyrations. Tori joined them. Sometimes, there was nothing like a dance floor workout.

After that, she was the life of the party, telling stories, buying drinks, and avoiding what was eating away at her. Alex indulged her but stayed close by. His alpha dominance was being sorely tested as he struggled to let her do whatever she wanted.

It was the alcohol that was her downfall; at least, that was how she would remember this part of the night.

In the ladies’ room before they called it a night, Meghan clutched the porcelain sink to keep the mirror from swaying. She pressed a wet paper towel to her flushed face and checked for food in her teeth.

Kelly came bursting into the bathroom, saw Meghan, and wrapped her in a hug.

“Red!” she exclaimed. Their voices held the same tipsy slur. “I fucking schooled those shitheads,” she yelled while gesturing wildly. “Boom! Picked ’em off one by one with my Walmart special cue stick. Ah-ha! I’m the bomb!”

Kelly was on a high and had a good case of the sillies. “Did you try that Flaming Justice shot? Holy fuckballs! Finn outdid himself with that. I think the flames made it into my stomach. Hey! How’s your dad, huh? I was thinking about him the other day.”

She danced around the ladies’ room and peed with the stall door open while she babbled.

“Can’t wait for the big event! I bet Alex is pumped, right? Desert Thunder is a boss! Are you okay, Red? You’re not saying much.”

“Do I look fat in this dress?” she blurted out before common sense stopped the words. “Maybe I should just get some Spanx and try to dress like everyone else.”

Kelly blinked a few times and looked at Meghan as if she might be insane. “Are you serious? Meghan! You have to know that the guys talk about you like you’re some free-form modern-day goddess. Did someone say something shitty? Huh? I’m right, aren’t I? Tell me who it was, and I’ll go smack ‘em.”

The Lolita-garbed spitfire hopped around in her saddle shoes like a boxing champion ready to throw punches. Her pigtails whipped about, and the funky glasses on top of her head flew off and clattered on the floor.

A loud pounding on the ladies’ room door made them jump.

“Kelly! Move it!”

“Uh-oh.” She giggled. “I’d better go.”

Kelly retrieved the glasses, moved for the door, and then whirled around so fast she nearly toppled over. “Oh, Meghan! Wait. Shit. I almost forgot. Will you be in my wedding? I’ve asked Rhiann Ashforth to be my matron of honor, and I’d like the Justice gals to back me up.”

Meghan smiled and tapped her chest over her heart. “I’d be honored, Kelly.”

“Great!” the little woman cheered. “After Brody and Heather tie the knot, I’ll be in touch and start the planning. Roman wants his bachelor bullshit to happen here, so I’ll be dragging my sister-in-law along for an Arizona bachelorette party. Charlie Wilde is already a sometimes Bendover resident, and I know that the other Baron-Wilde sister, Brynn, well, her husband’s helping Alex and Caleb with your projects at the Villa, so she’s probably a willing victim too.”

She left while laughing and muttering, “Willing victim.”

Meghan sighed and pulled herself together. Where was her sexy man Beast?

What was a man supposed to do when one’s wife was all over him like a rash? This and several other questions swam in Alex’s mind as Meghan literally clung to him like a monkey on a tree.

They were getting ready to leave Whiskey Pete’s and had stopped outside the doors to say goodbye to Drae and Tori. He half listened to what Sinjin said about Olie Davies, but that was the extent of his engagement. Meghan had her hands in his pockets because hers were cold, and it had the same effect as a short circuit.

He caught Tori smirking at Meghan’s outrageous behavior, and he arched a brow. His sometimes assistant shrugged and laughed off his dark look.

“Come on, Secret Agent Man,” she cooed to Drae. “I need a bath and a foot massage.” Twinkling her fingers goodbye, she took her husband’s hand and yanked him away.

Angie waddled up to Alex and kissed his cheek. “I need to talk to you.”

Parker met his eyes and shrugged. Whatever Angie had to say wasn’t anything she’d discussed with her husband.

“Sure. How about if I come by tomorrow after breakfast? I have to drop off some shit at Mom and Dad’s, so I’ll be in the area. Save you a trip to the Villa.”

“Sounds good and if you bring me some of Carmen’s hot cocoa in a thermos, I will love you forever. Toodles.”

“Later, man,” Parker drawled. They shook hands, and off he went to help Angie make it across the parking lot.

“I love the night,” Meghan exclaimed. She let go of him long enough to spread her arms and spin in a circle. Then she was all over him again.

“Let’s get Starbucks on the way home.”

Yeah, he thought with a sigh. Not drunk but not straight either. “Other direction,” he reminded her.

“Oh, pooh. That’s right. Oh, well.” She started to sing and dance across the half-empty lot.

Alex wasn’t sure what she was singing until she turned around, and shouted, “Taylor Swift! Woot woot! ‘Shake it off.’”

He got her into the car after a couple of tries because she was really into belting out that energetic tune. When he slid into the driver’s seat, she’d unhooked the seat belt and was on him in a flash. Her mouth on his neck woke him up in a hurry.

“Meghan, come on, baby. Sit down and behave. I can’t drive when you distract me.”

“I don’t wanna behave,” she playfully snarled. “Can’t we do it right here?”

Her lips were doing things around his jaw and ear that made him shudder, but he had to shut her down before they were doing filthy things in a car in a parking lot. He just knew that sort of loss of control wouldn’t end well.

He gave her a mild rebuke in the hopes that she’d laugh but behave.

“Is that the sound of topping?” He chuckled with a hand to his ear. “You might want to rethink that, Mrs. Marquez.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she shot back.

Oops. Maybe he was the one who should be rethinking. It wasn’t his intention to start something he couldn’t finish. Plus, he wasn’t comfortable with the way he’d reprimanded her earlier. He knew it was unfair to use his dominant advantage in a public setting. And in front of Parker and Angie, of all people.

The drive home was excruciating with Meghan pushing most of his buttons along the way. She fiddled with the entertainment system even though she knew it was one of his pet peeves. A five-minute rundown of Bendover gossip made him grind his teeth. His mom always said that gossip was a form of self-loathing. He didn’t like the way he connected that memory to what his wife was doing.

But it was when she opened the sunroof and took off her top that he nearly lost it.

“We need a car that will let me stand through the roof.”

“Uh, no. We don’t.”

“Don’t be disagreeable, Alex. I want to drive with my boobs out. Guys get to rock out, cock out, right? Well, why can’t the girls drive topless?”

She unhooked her bra and tossed it out the window. “Free the boobs!” she hollered into the night.

He started to formulate a plan for how to get her into the house if she ended up naked by the time they got home.

“Do you think my boobs are too big?” She cupped them in both hands. He looked and almost drove off the road.

“They’re fine, Meghan. Please put your top back on.”

“No,” she pouted. “I wanna talk about my boobs. Don’t you like them?”

“Of course, I like them, honey, but you’re a little tipsy, and we’re in the car, so do you think we could save the boob critique for later?”

Her glare wasn’t hard to read even at night.

“Fine,” she huffed. “Do what you’re told, Meggie,” she muttered while struggling into the top. “Behave, Meghan.” When her nakedness was covered, she sat back heavily and openly pouted.

He zipped his lips and didn’t inflame the situation by saying something stupid.

Five minutes before the turnoff, she went off on a different tangent. This one involved some crazy plan to build a dozen greenhouses so everyone could have organic produce. Her enthusiasm was real, so when he parked, and they walked along the path to the front door, she clung to him and breathlessly explained in minute detail how she thought it could be accomplished.

In the kitchen where he stopped to grab some bottled water, she continued. Only now, she made no attempt to pretend she wasn’t not just topping but rather foolishly pushing the envelope.

“Can we do it here? On the back steps? I like that.”

“Meghan, cut it out.”

“Alex,” she quipped. “Cut it out.”

The twins were next door with Carmen and Duke for the night, so they were essentially on their own as long as no one came walking in. He didn’t have time to worry about what she’d do next when her shoes went flying after she kicked them off. The top was next. Her naked breasts swayed as she tossed it aside.

Crooking her finger at him, she inched toward the back staircase. “Come on, Major. Let’s do this.”

Meghan knew she was out of control, but that didn’t stop her one bit. She wanted to be wild and reckless, regardless of the consequences. It drowned out the other stuff in her head.

When he didn’t immediately stalk her in the stairwell’s darkness, she grabbed his belt and yanked him into the shadows. With feverish hands and clumsy fingers, she tackled the belt on his pants, lowered the zipper, and helped herself to his body.

If she’d had a lick of sense, she would have noticed that her alpha husband wasn’t participating, but she was too far-gone to be concerned.

She stood on the first step and practically attacked him in her eagerness. Her hands took liberties, and she nipped at his neck and jaw while he planted his feet and stood firm.

Rubbing the peaked tips of her breasts on his manly chest, she quivered and demanded he kiss her properly. He complied, but she sensed a disconnect. Instead of snapping out of her topping fugue state, to her shame, she plowed on.

Ferociously turned on, she wanted him to do his thing—be her Beast and love her to death—but what was going down seemed awfully one-sided.

That didn’t slow her down, and it should have.

Her skirt came off. She turned around and climbed the stairs using every seductive lap dance and stripper move she could think of. He watched her with lustful intensity. At the top of the stairs, she peeled off her panties, rolled them in a ball, and pitched them at his face. He caught them with casual ease and stuffed them in his pocket.

When he started up the stairs after her, she squealed and took off running, stark naked, toward their bedroom. Halfway there, she whirled around and posed against a wall.

The expression on Alex’s face was a warning she ignored. He stalked up to her and pinned her to the wall. His hand wrapped around her nape made her quiver. And then he kissed her. Roughly. Brutally. He demanded she surrender, and she did.

She was shaking and breathing heavily when he cruelly released her lips.

“Is this what you want?” he sternly demanded.

Her reply was to throw herself on him and force the issue even though he wasn’t resisting.

Her kisses were clumsy and desperate. So were her hands. He growled a few times, possibly to caution her, but Meghan wasn’t in her right mind, so she ignored the warnings.

Dragging him to their bedroom, she lost her ever-loving mind the second the door closed. Forcing him out of his clothing, she dared to inspect what he had on offer with a slutty display that did not feel natural.

Throughout her tawdry performance, he said absolutely nothing. The sight of his very hard cock overrode whatever doubts she still harbored. He wanted her, or at least his body did, and in her current frame of mind, that was good enough.

She got a bit too handsy, which led to him smacking her hands away. His lusty grunt didn’t match the caution signs flashing in his eyes.

He tried one more time to bring her to her senses.

“Meghan, do you know what you’re doing?”

Did she? Her body answered with heat, and her mouth answered with an insolence that made her cringe but didn’t stop her foolishness. “Yes. I’m planning to fuck my husband. Now stop with the grumbling Dom shit and lie on the bed.”

Was she insane for speaking to him that way? His eyes flared. He hesitated and then threw his hands up.

“Have it your way, wife, as long as you know what you’re demanding.”

She frowned. What did he mean?

From there, it was one embarrassment after another. He lay passively while she crawled all over him. It was unsettling, but her passions and the way she needed Alex to be Alex got mixed up inside her.

Didn’t he want her the way she wanted him?

He made no attempt to help when she swung a leg across his hips and tried to claim his cock with her body. Reaching between them, she grasped his hardness and guided him to her pussy.

Grunting from the effort, she forced her body to accept the invasion. Overwhelmed by his size, she had to concentrate before his whole shaft sank deep.

She rode him with desperation. He watched her the whole time, his expression unsettling.

Edging toward an emotional breaking point, Meghan gyrated on her husband’s cock and frantically kissed him, trying to provoke a reaction. He didn’t resist and certainly kissed her back, but she knew a line was crossed.

It didn’t take much for her to become unglued. This wasn’t what she wanted. It didn’t feel right. The overwhelming ardor and need to prove herself that compelled her to act so rashly faded in the face of Alex’s vibe.

Her movements faltered. He watched her intently. She felt a surge of emotion that did not match her behavior, and at that second, whatever drove her broke apart.

In the end, she experienced a climax that was empty and weak.

“Have you had enough?” he asked.

She trembled. The tone he used filled her with shame. Not for expressing her desires but because of the one-sided way she went about it.

There was no need to answer. They both knew she’d come. Yes, it was a wimpy orgasm, but it happened, and that was the point.

Biting her lip, she felt an embarrassed flush cover her whole body.

“Lay on me,” he harshly demanded.

Unsettled and unsure, she did what he asked. His arms wrapped around her and held tight. With hardly any movement, he undulated beneath her. His cock throbbed. A deep grunt signaled his climax.

What had she done? Crying was suddenly an option.

She thought the encounter couldn’t possibly get much worse until he calmly lifted her and withdrew without speaking.

The awful silence broke her heart. Didn’t she know better? Alex wasn’t a fan of belligerent topping. The occasional demand was one thing, but he reacted badly when she went too far. Especially when there was no reason. It wasn’t like she was sexually deprived or felt unwanted. They made love all the time. What she’d done was uncalled for.

Sad, emotionally defeated, and confused, Meghan slid from the bed but didn’t look at him. Her mortification and the feeling that she’d displeased him made her too vulnerable for eye contact.

She took refuge in the bathroom but avoided looking at her reflection in the mirrors.

Turning on the spigot, she began filling the tub with warm water and added enough bath bubbles to create a soft cloud. Braiding her hair into a long tail, she secured it on top of her head with a clip.

The water helped as she sank into the warmth, but not even a tub full of bubbles could wash away her conflicting feelings.

Feeling like a bad child, she pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. The tears threatening to spill from her eyes made Meghan’s vision fuzzy but not fuzzy enough to miss her husband’s arrival in the bathroom.

He didn’t speak. Alex’s style of domination didn’t need words. His silence made her uneasy, as well it should.

Was she surprised when he simply took over? No. Not at all.

Was she relieved and glad? Fuck, yeah. Alex would make things right again. He always did.

Naked and beautiful, he sat beside her on the tile ledge and reached for the bath sponge. It was completely impossible to ignore his glorious manhood, but his arched brow cautioned her to think before doing anything else stupid.

Bathing her like one of the kids, he did everything except brush her teeth. This was his way. She listened with her senses to what his actions told her. He was definitely displeased with the way she had behaved, but the gentleness in the way he touched her reset Meghan’s scrambled emotions.

When she was adequately subdued and in an obedient frame of mind, he helped her from the tub, emptied the water, and wrapped her in a giant bath towel. What he did next was a new lesson and something her submissive heart would not easily forget in the future.

Instead of letting her get dressed, he had her stand on the bathmat beside the enormous shower stall. There was a moment while he wordlessly positioned her that made Meghan tremble. His covetous expression did nothing to calm her nerves.

And then he took a shower while she watched helplessly and fretted. Making her stand there when she’d much rather be in there with him, doing the honors with a shower pouf, was a powerful statement. Denying her was exactly what she deserved for her unseemly display.

After he dried off and, to her disappointment, slid on a pair of briefs, he took away her towel and rather unceremoniously marched her into their bedroom.

“Get in bed,” he gruffly ordered.

She plucked the clip from her hair, but the thick braid remained. Naked and unhappy, she lay down and prayed he’d join her. Alex was a master at making silent statements. By leaving her naked while he donned briefs, he let the implied censure speak loud and clear.

Aching and desperate after her reckless behavior, she rolled to him when he lay beside her and was shocked when he growled, “No.”

No? Oh, god. Rolling away, she moved to the edge of the bed and died a thousand deaths. Agony engulfed her emotions, and the tears began flowing.

He made no move to make it better, and why should he? Alex wasn’t the one who created this awful situation.

With a submissive’s guilty conscience wedged between her and her beloved, she cried herself to sleep.

He wasn’t all that thrilled about teaching Meghan a lesson, but sometimes, like now, he had to take a stand.

She knew the rules, and though she flaunted them occasionally, out of a desire for naughty shits and grins rather than outright defiance, he couldn’t recall another instance when she went so damn far out of bounds.

With his wife quietly sobbing, Alex lay there and examined his feelings. Was there a point at which the dominant and submissive dynamic demanded too much? She hadn’t done anything except flout the rules and push some buttons. No big deal and nothing he couldn’t handle. It was the way she did it that caused the problem.

Could he have let the topping thing slide? Sure. But he was 100 percent sure she didn’t want him to, and besides, letting things go was a slippery slope. And one thing he was certain of was that he didn’t want either of them to alter their needs. He knew that changing or giving in was never the way.

Fuck. He wished there was a guidebook for shit like this.

It took a long time for her to cry it out and fall asleep. Every tear landed with an uncomfortable thud on his heart, but what was he supposed to do? She needed him to make the boundaries just like she needed him to draw the line when she went too far.

He sighed. It was a lot of responsibility, this husband and Dominant thing.

An hour passed. And then another. He couldn’t sleep, and his brain was moving a hundred miles a minute. A jumble of random thoughts bounced around inside him. Somewhere between fading in and out and falling asleep, a distant memory appeared through the mental fog.

His grandparents at their Sedona house, the one where his parents lived now. The memory felt old, from a distant time when Alex was just a boy.

Cap’n Crunch exploded in his sensory memory. Next, he thought about Sophie licking jam off her fingers after she made a mess of slathering it on a piece of toast.

Grandpa and Dad were drinking coffee and leaning against the counter. His father was talking. The sound of his voice suggested he was upset.

“She’s pushing all my buttons, Dad. I don’t know what to do.”

“It comes with the territory,” Grandpa drawled. “The trick is knowing when and how to cut her off.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s simple and complex at the same time. She pushes, and you react.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Line in the desert sand, my boy. That’s all I’m saying. Ash needs to understand where the boundaries are. She can push all the buttons she wants with your consent, but when it goes too far, you need to reel her in.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know how.”

“Talk to her. Be honest. Tell your wife what works for you and what doesn’t. Ask her to express the same. Not for nothing, son, but there’s a reason the Valleja-Marquez men have never given in to divorce.”

The unusual memory faded and another came into focus. His parents. They were arguing, and his mom was demanding something. Whatever it was set his father off, and he barked at her. She froze. What his dad said struck Alex straight in the gut. It was an expression—a command—he used with Meghan.

“Behave, woman.”

What stood out was his mother’s immediate deference. Her obedient submission.

Alex’s eyes flew open. Holy shit. It’d been right there in front of him this whole time. Submission and domination did not alter the dynamic; it was the dynamic.

He regarded his parents as equals. They respected each other. Dad always gave Mom a long tether to do whatever she wanted, but as a couple, it could be summed up by just one thing. Every single goddamn time Ashleigh Marquez sat on her husband’s lap—and it was a lot—she bowed to their D/s dynamic. Whether they called it that or not.

So did his in-laws. Paddy and Maggie O’Brien behaved much like his folks. He and Meghan were raised in similar circumstances—by a strong, dominant, and very loving father and a smart, sassy, loving, and snarkily submissive mother.

Calm settled around his heart. He could do this. It wasn’t just his ferocious need for absolute control. His wife’s needs and desires were far more important because when all was said and done, she held every single card. Without her willing, loving, trusting submission, there wouldn’t be much of anything for him to do.

Meghan was everything.

She was restless next to him in their big bed. He rolled to his side and studied her in the darkness. Listening as she cried herself to sleep had been deeply painful for him, but he’d had no choice. If he let her behavior slide, at some point, she’d call him on it, and he didn’t want that. She had to feel secure that the rules governing their relationship were not mercurial. Or insignificant. And most importantly, that they reflected Meghan’s wishes too and not just his.

Whatever was eating at her was what made her act out. He understood that in some weird way her crazy behavior was born from insecurity, but this was a new side to her personality that baffled him. His assurances did nothing. It was as though she did what she did to force him to take a hard stand.

He climbed out of bed and moved to their bedroom terrace. A cool breeze rustled the curtains on either side of the French doors. The tiles his bare feet stood on still held the warmth of a southwest autumn day. High above in the inky night sky, the moon kept watch.

A long, heavy sigh did nothing to ease his tension. Alex glanced back at the bed and regarded his sleeping wife. She needed him. Now, more than ever. He felt the weight of responsibility and didn’t resist. Meghan really was his forever mate. She was the reason he came into this world because without him, she’d never be whole and neither would he. Destiny had a weighty hand in their relationship. No matter what, his wife came first.

But this Justice thing, he thought with an irritated growl, this damn thing was dragging him down.

Peering into the darkness as his mind moved things around on a mental game board, he nodded slowly. It was all coming together. Piece by piece, move by move. Everything was happening as he knew it would.

Parker’s background interrogation did two things. It reminded Alex that Justice didn’t operate in a vacuum, and it opened a window into the black hole intersect between government, powerful people, and both the public and private military establishment.

Roman reported his interrogation findings with a brutally professional assessment of what Alex’s best friend had been involved in. Parker knew shit without knowing what he knew. And he revealed things about Domineau, in particular, that were relevant.

And then there was Domineau herself. She was suddenly avoiding everyone. It happened quickly—in the last day or so—but since he wasn’t likely to miss this change in behavior, Alex picked up on her stranger than usual vibe right away.

A smug-infused smirk moved on his face. He’d been right to wait everyone out until things became clearer. His team was well-trained and battle-honed. Give them enough breathing room, and sooner or later, shit would rise to the surface.

What became apparent as he skimmed the foam was that despite a thousand disparate threads, there was a core that began this thing and was damn sure moving to strike. His challenge was weaving the threads into a coherent pattern.

How did Brody fit in?

Why was Domineau such a magnet?

Who was most afraid or had the most to lose from what Parker carried in his head?

And of course, why him? Payback? Revenge? Sheer lunacy?

Some things shifted in his mind. He owed Liang Zhū a debt of gratitude for having the gonads to send a warning shot that only Alex would recognize. It bothered him greatly that the man’s life was in peril because of his past association with Justice. Drae was right to offer the guy protection, and he just hoped Liang asked for their help.

He recalled Angie saying she wanted to speak to him. Nothing about the exchange was usual. She didn’t crack a sick joke or make a bitchy comment. Something was up with her, and he didn’t imagine it had anything to do with babysitting Snooki or what to get Parker for Christmas.

Well, at least reinforcements were arriving. Oliver Davies was in town, and while he would be no help as boots on the ground, he could handle remote oversight and knew more about snap your finger logistics than anyone else.

Ethan would be along tomorrow. A chuckle of amusement accompanied all thoughts where he was concerned. The second half of the mighty Australian badass duo, Ethan Truscott, aka Trout, was a good-natured, modern-day peace and love kinda guy who shapeshifted into a vicious, deadly animal when duty called. His response when Alex put out a call for backup involved some knuckle cracking and a twisted chuckle. The guy was ready to rumble at a moment’s notice with a vow to destroy whoever was fucking with Justice. A long time ago, at the start of it all, to show his solidarity, the fucker inked the Justice logo on his bicep. In a nutshell, he flew in special to help take down a nameless, faceless threat out of loyalty and a warrior bond.

Bentley Sawyer waved at Alex from the shadowy periphery of his thoughts. He’d been squeezing the man on purpose. The last thing Sawyer wanted was to be on Alex’s bad side. Their connection was the weirdest of all. He was one of the only living people who knew of the man’s background. While still wet behind the ears and a CIA lackey, Bentley stumbled onto a clandestine sexual affair between a powerful elected official and someone in the administration. It was a surveillance operation gone terribly wrong. How he handled the sensitive information was Sawyer’s initial foray into “you do me and I do you” politics. From then on, he had access to classified sources that boggled the mind and could pretty much do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Alex wasn’t surprised that Sawyer knew shit, personal shit, about Rafe and Domineau, but after forcing him to reveal what he knew, Alex concluded that Sawyer was another person who didn’t know what he knew. With a guy like that, an interrogation would be worthless, so he applied subtle pressure, made the guy nervous as fuck, and waited for Sawyer to do what he did best. Gather information that nobody else had a hope in hell of finding.

And then there was the problem of that putz down in the kennel. Richie. Alex didn’t care that he was probably going to end up taking a dirt nap. The guy made his choice and cozied up to the wrong folks. After careful consideration, it was painfully obvious the bumbling idiot was deliberately planted where there was no way he wouldn’t be found out. Cam had reminded Alex that Richie was a follower, not a leader. He’d been buddies with Brody’s assistant, Mike, but that guy was a plain dumbass that they jettisoned a while back. A little digging with a teaspoon and not a shovel uncovered Richie’s vocal dislike of Brody Jensen. He had a habit of shooting his mouth off after a few beers. The shithead was a surveillance dream. He gave up everything without being asked, and that was exactly why he didn’t matter.

Soft sounds from the bedroom drew him back inside and ended his thoughtful woolgathering. Meghan was restless. She didn’t like sleeping alone.

After retrieving his phone and leaving himself a note to text Angie in the morning and beg off their meeting, he shut the terrace doors and climbed back into bed. Half-reclining against a pile of pillows, he waited until his wife sensed his presence and calmed. Then he closed his eyes and entered a dozing mindscape where he could examine, plot, question, and pick things apart.