She watched her mother-in-law disappear down the hallway and knew Alex was waiting for her to move, but her feet refused to obey.

Overcome with conflict, Meghan chewed on her lip and wrung her hands. What if the babies needed her? It was bad enough that the breastfeeding thing went south so fast, but shouldn’t she still be the one holding the bottle?

She looked at her husband. He was watching her from a shadow, leaning against the wall. Meghan recognized the body language and pose. He was waiting – giving her the time she needed.

“What did you say to me earlier?” he asked in a gentle voice. “Wasn’t it that we weren’t leaving our children in the back seat of a hot car to get drunk. The same applies to the here and now, my love.”

He came out of the shadow and stood close. His fingers traced the strap of her denim top.

“Let me take care of you tonight, and I promise you’ll meet tomorrow with a clear head and a smile.”

The command in his voice cut through her lingering hesitation. This was what she asked of him. This was the foundation of their relationship. He’d never behave questionably with either her or their children.

She needed tonight. All of it. And she desperately needed to reconnect with her husband. A scorching blush raced across her face when she remembered taking him in her mouth. It had been so long, and he tasted so good. What was happening now was part of their dance of intimacy.

He reached for her hands and raised them one at a time for a sweet kiss. “The blush is adorably sexy, Mrs. Marquez. What do you say we give you a few more things to blush about?”

With all the gallantry she’d come to expect from her well-mannered beast, he patted the hand she slipped through the bend in his arm and maneuvered them to their bedroom as if they were taking a romantic stroll along the Champs-Élysées in Paris.

In their private sanctuary, once the door closed, she focused on them. He led her to the wardrobe room and undressed her. As he removed each item of clothing, he recounted a moment from their love story or made a dirty wisecrack.

He knew she was nervous and took care to ease her worries. It felt strange to be so skittish about being naked in front of him, but she couldn’t help it. Stretch marks and leaky boobs had an adverse effect on her bravery.

When she was completely nude, he stepped back and took his good old time checking her out. She put her hands on her stomach. “These will fade, I hope.”

The last thing she expected was for him to laugh.

“Be proud of your scars,” he stated with authority. “Isn’t that what you told me? Fuck, Meghan. My whole side looks like a patchwork quilt made by a kindergarten class. My fucking scars are connected to pain and loss. A couple of stretch marks to end up with the best two for one of all time? Pfft.” He growled. “Be proud.” He growled again. “Be fierce, double M. Let that badass bombshell bitch out for some air!”

He inhaled all the oxygen in the room and nudged her till she joined his deep breathing and guttural growls.

When she was pumped up on oxygen, confidence, and laughter, he applauded.

“Now that we have that settled.” He swatted her ass. “No more pajamas from Target.”

She grinned and laughed when he began rifling through her lingerie. “What are you doing? Stop! You’re making a mess.”

He pulled out a baby doll sleep top and waved it like a flag. “I know for the time being that we have to take special care of your breasts.”

“This is perfect,” she gushed.

Meghan reached for the teal silk with the stretchy lace bodice, but he wanted to dress her, so she stood passively and tried not to snicker when he scooped her breasts into the stretchy lace.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

She loved him to bits for understanding. Rising on her toes, she kissed his cheek and got in a playful dig.

“Yes, Master. Thank you.”

His bark of laughter at her cheeky insolence made her heart sing.

“Master, is it?” He scoffed and shook his head. “You were talking to Angie again, weren’t you?”

Ordinarily, this topic was a touchy subject. Alex worked overtime trying to ignore the D/s aspect of the Sullivan marriage.

“Okay, smartass. Enough. You know what to do.”

The temptation to needle him a little bit more was too strong, so she put her hands together and bowed like a harem girl, then hurried into the bedroom. She went to a spot she knew well and sank to her knees.

It took some time to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She focused on her breathing – something that was a part of her yoga practice. Slowly, her mind ceased to wander. Faint noises from the wardrobe and bathroom let her know where Alex was.

The lights dimmed. She felt her heart thump.

Walking in slow, hypnotic circles, he occasionally touched her while speaking in a low, commanding voice. Every atom in her body focused on him.

“Ordinarily, I’d keep you in the dark, wondering what’s coming. But not tonight.”

She kept her eyes down and listened carefully to every word.

“Tonight, I want you to trust me.”

Her eyes flew to his. He seemed to expect her reaction and stared her down until she nodded and lowered her eyes.

He came closer and stroked her hair. “I understand your fears, Meghan. Tonight is a baby step. I’m going to worship your body, yes, but there will be no intercourse. It’s not time yet.”

Knowing her husband well, she lingered on his word choice. Intercourse was a specific term describing a specific act. That left everything else on the table.

His hand came out. “Are you ready?”

She put her hand in his and stood.

As he pulled her to the bed, she noticed what he wore. A pair of old Justice sweats that molded his spectacular assets. They were a favorite of hers, and oh my, did he ever look hot! Alex’s broad shoulders – just like his muscular arms – were positively drool worthy.

Her heart felt like it was beating in her throat when he swaggered to the side of the bed, had her stop, and then, as if he was a traveling encyclopedia salesman, laid out the pros and cons of the things he’d left out earlier.

Her tongue took the brunt of a swift bite that was necessary to stop her from giggling. All hail Professor Nerd King Marquez!

He held the powerful wand that she loved and feared aloft, declaring it something for her. His wicked leer and husky snicker triggered an erotic bonfire that only he could extinguish.

Most of her anxiety vanished when Mr. Cocky toyed with the bundles of black silk rope, calling them something for him.

Alex and rope were enough to make her quiver all over. She enjoyed the rope too but by referring to it as something for him meant that this time, the bindings would challenge and excite.

A self-conscious grumble from her let him know what she thought about the lube. He said it was something for both of them – should it be needed.

The doctor warned them that they might need some assistance when it came to sexual activity. This news automatically pissed her off because her husband got her wet just by walking into the room. If that changed, she wasn’t going to be happy about it.

After the naughty show-and-tell, he took her in his arms for a standing make-out session that got hot and heavy in no time. Rubbing against his solid body turned her to jelly. So did the hand with a fierce grip on her hair.

He had thoroughly ravished her mouth by the time he eased off her lips. She clung to him – afraid she might collapse from the weight of the re-awakened pleasure they created together.

A loud, rough gasp rumbled from her mouth when her beast tugged her hair to tilt her head. Her gasp was followed by a throaty moan and shaking legs when he sank his teeth into her neck and shoulder.

He stopped biting while his lips stayed close to her skin. So close that she felt what he said.

“Mine,” he roughly growled.

Meghan loved the gritty, slightly dangerous sounds her beast made when he came out to play.

Trembling, she put her hands palm down over his heart and in a breathy whisper answered the call of her mate.

“Yours,” she said. “Always.”

His hand slid between her legs and probed. Relief flooded her brain when his grunt of approval shot another worry straight to hell.

She expected him to bend her over the edge of the bed, so her face was a mask of surprise and confusion when he backed her up till her legs touched the bed.

His eyes glittered when he took the rope and knelt to wrap her ankles, spread her legs wide, and then tied her to the bedposts. Then he did the same with her wrists, leaving her tied and exposed.

By the time he finished restraining her, she was on fire with desire. Watching him in the dim light as he stepped back several feet and inspected his handiwork, she became mesmerized by the intensity of his expression.

He moved directly in front of her, just barely close enough to touch if he put a hand out. When he crossed his arms, she nearly hyperventilated. The beast dominant inside him didn’t scare her. She understood him and this sometimes better than he did.

“You are my wife,” he told her in a voice that throbbed with his maleness. “I love you beyond measure and am proud of how beautifully you handled carrying our children.”

She smiled.

“But you’ve been keeping yourself from me, and I can’t allow that to continue.”

Biting her lip, she blushed at the accusation in his words.

“Meghan,” he growled. “Look at me.”

She met his iron-willed stare. She’d given herself to this man from the moment they met. He was her destiny. She’d been stupid to let fear take hold and cause her to withdraw. Especially when she knew with every fiber of her being that she trusted Alexander Marquez with her life, her body, her heart, and her soul.

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

The meaningful ritual of words and feelings was what she needed to bring her back to center. In a heartbeat, she remembered who she was. Who Alex was. There was only one thing to say.

“I love you.”

He smiled but did not uncross his arms.

Then he laughed.

“I gotta say”—he snickered—“that I like this look.”

He pointed at her and grinned. “Bondage brings out the color in your cheeks.”

The teasing got her giggling.

“And this baby doll thing? Yeah ... totally works for me. Makes your tits look fantastic, and I particularly like how it only hangs to your stomach. I’ve missed your pretty red curls.”

He wasn’t referring to the hair on her head.

A frown of concern shot onto his face. “Is this position okay for you, baby?”

This was one of the reasons why she found it so easy to give herself to him completely. He frequently reminded her that communicating and complete honesty was vital to him understanding how she felt. If she had any doubts, was unsure or uncomfortable, he’d stop immediately.

“I like it,” she told him.

“Do you feel helpless?” he asked.

Meghan nodded. “Yes.”

He came into her body space and caressed her face. “Amazing,” he murmured. “Your willingness to surrender despite being so vulnerable is a powerful turn-on.”

She might have responded if he hadn’t wrapped his big hand around her fragile neck and kissed her till she struggled against the restraints in her desperation for more.

Seemingly pleased with her response, he released her and moved out of her vision field.

“Sex isn’t just penetration and release. And our preferred kink isn’t just about sex.”

He was doing something out of her eyesight. His words spun in her head as she listened in anticipation for what was next.

She jumped when an ottoman was kicked in front of her and he sat down. Reaching to her ankles, he toyed with the bondage ropes and tickled her calves with his fingers.

“Your body did a wondrous thing. I am literally at your feet, my love, with my head bowed in gratitude for what you endured to make the family we dreamed of a reality. This is who we are, Meghan.”

He was slowly stroking her legs with the gentlest of touches. She writhed and gasped as all her senses focused on what he was doing.

“From this moment on, I will take care of you. We’ll take all the time you need to heal and regain your center.”

He found a ticklish spot behind her knees that made her jump and shake. Her need for him took a thousandfold leap. When he mapped her hips and grabbed some ass, she moaned her pleasure.

A low humming interrupted her building excitement. Legs that two seconds ago felt like jelly became rigid and tense. She inhaled sharply and grasped the ropes that tied her to the bed.

She and the other ladies agreed. The Hitachi wand was delivered to their men directly from the devil’s workshop. The soft hum hid the vibrator’s true strength. A guaranteed explosive orgasm was merely a down payment for the demanding equipment. Why settle for one when more were possible? Before he was through, she’d be completely undone.

Alex pressed the slowly vibrating wand against her exposed mound. It took only seconds for her body to throb. She whimpered and came in a rush.

Through hooded eyes, she saw him grin. He put the wand on the bed, still vibrating, as a reminder they were just starting. When his fingers parted her flesh, she trembled uncontrollably.

“I love your pussy. And just so you know, nothing has changed.”

He spread the proof of her arousal with his fingers and drew gentle circles around her clit.

“Ah, now see,” her beast growled, “this is what I’m talking about. Your clitoris is beautiful, baby. It’s swollen and so vulnerable.”

“Alex,” she whimpered when he kissed the sensitive nub.

Meghan wasn’t prepared for his hands to hold her open or for his tongue to flick her clit. When he sucked on it for a few seconds, she went a little wild.

The vibrating sound became louder as he turned up the intensity. She shook her head and mumbled a shaky, “No.”

“No, you don’t want to come again, or no, you want me to stop?”

“Don’t stop,” she croaked.

He teased her mound with the increased vibrations but didn’t touch her clit. She was shaking and desperate when she pleaded.

“Please, Alex.”

He grunted, and she started to come undone. “My pleasure, love,” he growled.

And then the wand pressed against her clit. It was too much, and she cried out. The pleasure threatened to swamp her, and she shook from need and fear.

“Relax, Meghan. Let it happen, baby.”

“Oh god,” she gurgled as the excitement wracked her body. Unable to move, she was trapped by pleasure.

Her head went back, and she felt her body take over – overriding her fear of the powerful machine. Her hips tilted, and her pelvis softened as she gave herself to the overpowering sensations.

“That’s right, love.”

He spread her pussy lips and pressed the wand against her exposed clit. She jerked and cried out several times, and then with his encouragement and urging, she gave in and let the wicked toy send her up and over again in a powerful climax that stole her breath.

She had barely recovered when he dropped the wand again and used his hands to play with her dripping pussy. Incapable of doing anything but moan and tremble, she was limp in the restraints and totally at his mercy.

His fingers entered her and simulated fucking. He said some filthy things about the flood he drew from her body and made a couple of promises about how he planned to take her once their lovemaking resumed.

“Meghan,” he softly chided as his fingers moved inside her and his thumb played with her clit. “It was very naughty of you to hide your pleasure from me.”

He was chuckling, and she was starting to unravel.

“I think my wife may need a good spanking.”

She gasped and groaned.

“To remind her who she is.”

A spanking? She could do with a thorough spanking.

She was lost in sensation when he stopped fingering her, kissed her clit, and turned the wand to high.

“One more time, Mrs. Marquez.”

“Alex,” she groaned. “Please. I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Aw”—he chuckled—“aren’t you cute?”

The hard-thrumming vibrator came in contact with her super-sensitive clit, and she bit back a scream. Her body jerked. Something happened inside her and all she was capable of were primal sounds as she surrendered to the pleasure.

She pressed against the wand, jerked away, and then returned over and over until an orgasm built that was stronger than her reluctance. With a low guttural growl, she melted against the wand and lost touch with reality when a powerful double orgasm blew her apart.

When she returned from the intense climax, she was untied and spread eagle on the bed with Alex’s face between her legs. He licked her and spoke words of love, pride, and astonishment. The final orgasm was a slow-moving train that left her weak and half-conscious afterward.

The last thing she remembered was Alex spooning her and his lips kissing her shoulder.

* * *

Tonight had gone better than she expected. Showing up unannounced gave her the upper hand, and there wasn’t much Domineau liked more than an advantage.

The chance to observe the Justice gang in a social setting when pretense and reserve were dropped wasn’t likely to come along every day. So she’d done what she did best, ghosting her way through the evening and revealing herself only at the end.

Catching people unawares was a good way to find out what they really thought, and she’d been surprised by the warmth and generosity of the welcomes she received.

Arizona wasn’t a bad idea, after all, and was turning out to be more than she originally hoped. Having Roman with Kelly and Matty following on her heels in a couple of days relieved her of the letdown she’d known would grab hold once she left New York City.

Kicking off her ankle boots, she took the clip from her hair and shook out her recently cut, colored, and styled locks. Deciding she liked the lighter highlights surprised her because she’d gotten so used to drab dirty blond.

Pywakett curled around her leg. She felt the purred greeting right through her jeans. Scooping up the ornery feline, Domineau forced her pet to endure some cat loving. Rubbing her nose in the soft fur, she made smooching sounds when she kissed the cat’s head.

She lifted Py onto her shoulders for the march into her efficient and uncluttered kitchen. The cat had the balance of an Olympic gymnast and took to riding on Domineau’s shoulders like a fish took to water.

“Let’s see what we’ve got, hmm?” she said to the cat. “Oh, cool. Leftover chicken from El Pollo Loco.”

Tossing the take-out box on the counter, she aided Pywakett’s descent and then made quick work of shredding some of the leftover thighs onto a plate.

“Here ya go, toots,” she murmured to the cat.

Leaning against the counter next to Py, she took a drumstick from the container and stripped it to the bone as she and her pet roommate ate in silence.

The cat was still eating as she washed her hands and went back to the refrigerator for something to drink. Spying the half-gallon of milk, she grabbed for it, tore off the cap, lifted it to her mouth, and guzzled.

“Ahh. Nothing quite like ice-cold milk.”

The kitchen clock reminded her how late it was. Petting Pywakett’s head as she passed, the rest of the walk to her bedroom was an assembly line of organization. She was still settling, so boxes and shopping bags were everywhere. Grabbing a pile of new bath towels that she’d run through the stack mount washer and dryer, she juggled the big armload along with a new plastic trashcan.

Dropping off the lot in the quirky pink and white tiled bathroom, she took a second to smooth some wrinkles in the floral shower curtain before continuing to the end of the hallway and her bedroom.

Just as her jeans were almost on the floor, she heard her phone buzz. Scrambling to locate the pocket of the discarded pants, she found the phone and checked for messages.

The first one was from Draegyn St. John. All it said was Smoke on the water – the witty catchphrase the team sometimes used around her. Then there was a string of emojis.

A cactus. A grinning cowboy. A smirky face. A pile of poo. A soldier. A flexed bicep. The Vulcan salute. A bomb. Sunglasses. A red shoe. An eagle. A cocktail. Lady Liberty. The steam symbol that resembled the Justice logo. The bowling icon. The Red Dragon symbol. A cigarette. The Trident. And finally the American flag.

“What an idiot.” She chuckled.

The next message was from Draegyn’s boyfriend, Jason Cameron.

God, she actually missed those two and their incessant sibling-like bickers, practical jokes, and general fuckery.

Jason’s message included actual thoughts and words unlike that numbnut Sinjin. His note was a demand she appear at Casa de Cameron for family dinner.

The invitation made a lump form in her throat. This was something she was going to have to get used to. The family thing. Shit, this crew of miscreants, castaways, and loners Alex assembled here in the middle of nowhere even referred to themselves as Family Justice.

It had been a long, long time since she was part of a family. That was until Roman Bishop asked her to watch over Kelly and Matty. Without realizing it was happening, the four of them developed a familial bond. She already had genuinely fond feelings for Roman. He was one of those stand-up types who risked it all to serve his country honorably and along the way lost everything – including a piece of his soul.

She was happy for him that he rose from the dust heap and found an amazing lady to love and a kid in the bargain.

Matty. Sweet, exuberant, unsullied, adorable Matty. She loved that kid like a southern mom loves a good beignet. He appeared in her life at the moment when she’d been the most down. Her whole life was a freak show house of mirrors. She wasn’t a dumbass twenty something anymore. Matter of fact, she was on the upside to turning forty, and even though that birthday was four years in the future, she had been feeling old. Alone. And empty because all she had to show for her life was a Chevelle, her motorcycle, a cat, and a folder full of commendations and kudos for the things she’d accomplished during her time in the clandestine services.

Big whoop.

But Matty made her feel like the smartest, coolest, funniest person on the planet, and she fell head over heels for the amazing four-year-old with the old soul grasp on life.

Ever since, she’d become a member of her old friend’s household whether she liked it or not. The decision to call themselves the House of Bishop had brought a few moments of light and fun to her troubled heart.

And now Family Justice. Jesus Christ. When the universe wanted to hammer something home, it wasn’t shitting around.

Ripping off her top and ditching the constricting bra brought a murmur of relief. She snatched the Tinkerbell nightshirt from under her pillow and pulled it on.

Plopping onto the bed, she scooted to the middle and sat cross-legged before reaching for the phone and resuming the check of messages.

Jason ended his message by saying he wished her well in her new position, and then he ended with something cryptic.

I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but maybe it’s time to cut the crap. Just sayin’. Signed – Someone Who Was Once Where You Are.

She knew Jason Cameron had a history and childhood that came close to mirroring her shitshow from hell. But she wasn’t sure what he was getting at with the cut the crap comment.

The only thing that could even remotely refer to was the one thing she refused to think about.

Worry marched up her spine and stomped on her head. Something was suddenly in the air.

Nothing scared her. Ever. All the scare had been surgically removed when a bullet was dug out of her chest. People she worked with at the CIA and FBI thought she lacked a sense of self-preservation, which was exactly why she’d been handed the most difficult assignments.

But there was no denying that fear was nipping at her Achilles’ heel. Next to Matty, the only human being she let close enough to leave a mark, the person who was her biggest vulnerability, the chink in her armor, was Rafael D’Alessandro.

Fuck. Just thinking his name made her tense.

From the start, she’d lived with no regrets. She’d killed bad guys with her bare hands and walked through a hail of gunfire to complete a mission without breaking a sweat.

But Rafe? He was her biggest regret. The one she couldn’t fix. Not after how she treated him. Not after what she said. Or didn’t say.

Pywakett joined her on the bed and curled up next to her. She was about to toss the phone aside when something stopped her.

She pulled up Sinjin’s message again and went through the emojis. Every single one made sense – usually with a humorous Team Justice backstory. All but one. One that described someone else – not her.

Her eyes found what she sought. The flexed bicep.

Then she went to Jason’s message. Time to cut the crap.

Boom!

Panic sent her vaulting off the bed. Cam was the last person she’d expect to argue on Rafe’s behalf, but that was the only explanation.

Pywakett stretched and meowed in reaction to Domineau’s distress.

Pacing back and forth next to the bed didn’t stop her agitation.

Goddammit. Hadn’t Cam told her some crazy story while they were in Pakistan about Alex’s matchmaking habit? If the Major was interfering, she was gonna go bonkers on him.

Opening the contacts on her phone, she was all set to rip into Alex when she saw what time it was.

Ah, fuck. It was after midnight.

Tossing the useless phone aside, she paced to relieve the energy spike and repeatedly shook out her hands.

She wanted a cigarette so fucking bad.

Pissed off and escalating fast, Domineau chose a course of action.

If freaking out on Alex and smoking a cigarette were off the table, then that left just one option.

Stomping into the kitchen, she took the bottle of vodka she kept in the freezer along with a souvenir shot glass and a jar of olives out back to the little postage stamp-size patio and dropped into a wicker chair.

Rafe. Oh, my god.

She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to banish the man from her thoughts. It didn’t work.

Drawing the outdoor coffee table close, she set up an impromptu bar and started slamming shots. The expensive iced vodka went down smooth, which was why she kept it in the freezer. The cold made the liquid richer, thicker. She liked the way it coated her tongue and hung around in her mouth.

Between shots, she fished fat olives out of a jar with her fingers and munched the brined fruit. Sour pickles would be better, but she hadn’t picked any up at the store, so olives it was.

Goddammit.

Rafe.

Ah, shit.

Rafe.

Pouring another cold shot, she tossed it back and followed it with an olive.

If Rafe was coming to Bendover, she was so fucked.

* * *

A righteous hangover and the unrelenting Arizona sun were not meant to be friends, so she shoved on a pair of dark sunglasses and pretended her head wasn’t threatening to roll off her shoulders.

At her side, the woman who’d been running the business side of Justice since day one walked and talked with astonishing efficiency.

Betty, or Boop as she was sometimes referred as, had a steel trap for a mind. She forgot nothing and could tell you what shirt you wore on a Thursday three years ago. Domineau admired her skill.

“There’s a full slate of bookings straight through the winter break, and a mess of queries about scheduling in the new year. Right now, we’ve got a team of intelligence commandos plus a bunch of police chiefs from around the country. On the other side, there is a refresher session in progress for Justice trained security. The canine program does its own thing. You have a meeting scheduled with Brody for one thirty.”

Betty read off an iPad that seemed like an extension of her arm.

“It’s not official – yet – but Jace Delacroix will be taking on Alex’s responsibilities. Jace has been here for a year, and he’s been running the stable. His cousin, Remington Bissett, is the transportation director. She’s responsible for everything that moves. Your vehicle has to be tagged with a sensor, and she’ll handle it.”

Her brows went up behind the dark glasses. She knew Alex wasn’t playing Parcheesi here in this corner of the Sonoran Desert, but she hadn’t expected the serious security systems or a frickin’ SCIF. When Betty explained about the secure room, Domineau was surprised to learn of the steps Justice took to guard against electronic surveillance and to suppress data leaks.

“Mrs. Marquez has extended an invitation for you to join her and Alex for dinner. At your earliest convenience.”

She wanted to laugh but feared her head would explode.

At her earliest convenience? Good lord. She’d forgotten how proper Alex could be and made a mental note to step up her game. This wasn’t some cheesy fly-by-night security guard mill. She was the program director for the Justice Agency, and she was being paid an assload of dollars. She had a role to play – one she was very good at.

“Do I have an assistant?” she asked.

Chuckling at her question, Betty barely held back a smirk.

“Well, Alex has an assistant, but I highly doubt she comes along with the position.”

“Care to share the joke?” she asked.

They stopped walking, and Betty turned to her with a smile.

“Do you want the 411 or just the facts?”

Domineau snorted. “If it concerns Alex, I want the dirt, too.”

Betty found this hilariously funny. “You’ll find, Ms. Rivera, that loyalty and respect for Major Marquez are a given around here.” She made a face and added, “His legend looms large, if you know what I mean.”

“Been there, done that, Betty.”

“Right, right,” the older woman continued. “Well, where the assistant thing is concerned, the situation is simple. The woman he hired to keep him organized ended up marrying Draegyn St. John, so technically ...”

“Wait,” Domineau barked. Her head thumped from the laughter, but this was too rich for words. “Are you saying that Sinjin’s wife works for Alex?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Betty chortled.

Needing more clarification, she asked, “Victoria St. John. She’s Alex’s assistant? What does she do exactly?”

“Ah, well, Ms. Tori is a lot like Alex. She can do things with technology that rival Alex’s skill. And she has a head for numbers and systems.”

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “So Tori babysits Alex? Do I have that correct?”

“More or less. It works because it keeps them both out of trouble.”

The tour of the facility took more than three hours. She was so impressed and blown away by what she saw that any thoughts she harbored of this assignment being either a cakewalk or a tacky joke came to an inglorious end.

Justice was the shit. And not just any shit. Now she understood why Roman never severed ties with them. And she also knew without any doubt what-so-fucking-ever that this place was on Washington’s radar. She thought about it for a minute and concluded that the Washington factor accounted for the eye-opening level of personal and property security that was in play.

Well, fuck-a-duck, man. She might have unintentionally stumbled into something that floated her boat more than playing bodyguard for rich people.

Plus, there was an armory at her disposal!

Domineau straightened and mentally shook herself. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d learned a couple of things. First, that nonstop vodka consumption will fuck yo’ shit up for real, and second, that she was a total wuss when it came to confronting Alex Marquez about anything. The guy had a serious reputation as not just a born leader, but more importantly as a master tactician in the field. That was how he drew attention to himself. It wasn’t ego; it was inevitable.

She didn’t have much choice but to shut up, pay attention, and prepare for anything.