Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (66 page)

“But it’s weird, huh?”

Sophie loosed her wonderful laugh. “It’s weird for two seconds and then there’s nothing but love, baby. In a way, I think maybe we’ve all been waiting to see if either of you was ever going to come to your senses. You freaked a lot of people out over the years, but now that it’s all coming out, you’re gonna find that you two being together is what everyone figured was your destiny all along. Think Mom and her hippie-dippy nonsense.”

Angie’s mind was whirling. She wanted to sit there and chatter away with her sister. Gush about Parker. Lose her shit over a boy. But that had to wait. First there was the Aldo mess to clean up.

“One last thing and then I’ll let you go. Is all of this why Aldo’s been trying to create a scene? Does he hope to deflect attention from a European scandal with an American one?”

She practically felt the warmth of Sophie’s breath as she heaved a deep sigh. “Bingo and here’s where I have to drop the final part of the bomb. It’s worse than you think. The girl is about to pop any day.”

“Excuse me?” The fine hairs on the back of Angie’s neck felt like spikes with exposed nerve endings. The math was pretty easy to do.

“Soooo, what you’re saying is, when I ended the engagement four months ago, she was already obviously pregnant?”

“Yes, and there’s more.”

She grimaced and snapped back, “Of course, there is. Just give it to me.”

“His folks brought the hammer down when they found out. Cut him off without a dime. The person I heard from says he talks incessantly about you. How if he could get you back, he’d be respectable again and his parents would back off. So he did some research after he found out you were with Alex. They think he decided to go to the States and convince you of whatever. But when things didn’t go as he imagined, Plan B went into action. Nothing like a nice juicy lawsuit, maybe some paparazzi nonsense to make headlines and line his pockets.”

Angie couldn’t believe how stupid this guy was. “Soph, can you even imagine how lucky he is to still be walking? He poked at all of us, nonstop. He actually punched Parker in the face!”

“Seriously? And Parker didn’t serve him up with a side of guacamole?”

“Actually, all the guys have been pretty restrained because they thought tiptoeing around him was better than a confrontation. It was me who got physical.”

“Did you smack him, I hope?”

“No, but wish I had. Parker held me back and Alex had Aldo by the scruff of the neck. If we’d been let at each other, I would have ripped his throat out.”

“Well, thank god Justice knows how to keep the calm. If any of them had gone off and assaulted him, Aldo was ready to sue the shit out of everyone. Clearly, you can see what an excellent and caring daddy he’s going to be. A great way to secure a future for his kid!”

They actually laughed. On some sick and twisted level, what she said was true.

“What are you going to do?”

Oh. Angie knew exactly what to do. No doubt about it.

“Yeah, I think it’s trash day.”

“
Bwahahahahaaaaaa,
” Sophie barked gleefully. “Don’t get your hands dirty and make sure you wear shit kicking shoes when you do it!”

“Put it on speaker,” Alex told Meghan when his phone chirped. She reached over and tapped the screen then went right back to what she was doing.

“You’re on speaker—go ahead.”

Parker recognized Ben’s voice immediately. “Uh, boss . . . we have a situation.”

Puzzled, Alex croaked directly into the phone. “Define situation.”

“Um, well, you see, Gus called me over to the garage.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex looked at Parker like
what the fuck?
“And . . .”

“Yeah, and uh, he had a vehicle request.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Alex muttered. “And why am I involved?” he asked with an edge of frustration in his tone.

“It’s Miss Angelina, boss. She wants to take out one of the SUV’s for the day.”

Parker froze. Meghan looked up.

“She going somewhere?” he asked.

“Gus says it didn’t seem like his place to pry, but that’s why he called me and that’s why I’m calling you. There’s no problem giving her any of the cars, but I figured you’d want to know she was on the move.”

“What the fuck is she up to?” he griped out loud. To Ben he said, “All right. Give her whatever she wants and maybe find out what’s going on, okay?”

“You got it, boss. Thanks.”

Parker didn’t know what to think. He was with Alex on this one. What the hell was she doing that she needed an SUV for the entire day? Half an hour ago she’d been in sweats lounging in the kitchen and now suddenly she’s behind the wheel and going god knows where.

The damn woman was hell on wheels. Now, what the fuck was she up to?

She sang
Here Comes the Sun
as she walked from the house deep into the compound to the big garage where all the vehicles, carts, scooters, ATVs, and general riding toys were kept. The song felt right for the beautiful sunny morning.

Stomping along, she had to congratulate herself on her outfit choice for the errand she was on. Going full Desert Angel, she put on an old pair of beat up black western boots and wiggled her butt into a wickedly slutty pair of cutoff denim shorts that had seen better days—like five years ago. One good washing and the fabric of the well-worn jeans might fall apart, which only made her love them even more.

A plain white tank top under an ancient flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled back was innocent enough until a closer look revealed she was braless. Aware that her boobs were bouncing as she walked only made her gurgle with laughter.

Jiggle away, girls,
she thought gleefully.

When she was growing, this was her daily uniform. Parker would love it, but she knew her appearance was going to send a statement Ronaldo wasn’t likely to forget.

Rounding a corner of the large garage, she stepped into the side parking area and went in search of Gus. She’d asked for an SUV instead of a sedan because she wanted as much room between her and that slimy bastard as possible and remembering how annoyed Parker had been that she was separated from him when they’d drive in his big SUV, the choice seemed logical.

“Hiya Gus,” she tittered when she caught sight of the older gentleman who managed the entire Justice fleet of moving objects. “Whatcha got for me?”

Approaching the kindly gray-haired man who was smiling warmly at her, she saw Ben was also there. Angie loved Ben. He was a piece of work—same for his wife Ria—but he was the loyal, dependable right-hand that her brother counted on. And his presence meant that her activities this fine morning were not flying under the radar.

Seriously.
It was a wonder that Alex didn’t come thundering down the path right behind her. Aunt Wendy would call how the men around here acted as being in cahoots. Angie wasn’t sure of the origin of the word, but it sure did express a certain cowboy flair that fit perfectly.

Throwing Ben some humorous side shade, she snarked, “Do you have to fingerprint me or tag me with a GPS before I can take the leash off?”

He had the look of a man wishing he could be anywhere but there with her having this conversation. She was a Marquez, after all, and saying no to her or butting into her personal business was hard for him.

“Aw, come on, Miss Angie. That’s not fair. You know all he cares about is your safety. We all do,” he added with a nod at Gus.

They were cute, but she didn’t have time for any of this. She had something to do. “Relax, Ben. I’m just yanking your chain.” Seeing that Gus was standing beside the open driver door to a large white Explorer, she walked up to him and put out her hand. “Key, please.”

The two men exchanged a silent look, but she stood her ground and waited them out—her hand hanging in the air, palm up, waiting.

Four minutes later, she was pulling up to the business center where the employee apartments were. So far, so good. Now for the fun part. Flipping the visor down, she peered into the mirror. Smartly remembering to bring along a lipstick, she pulled it from her pocket, checked the color, and immediately laughed. It was called
No Mercy.
How appropriate!

Applying the vibrant red color until her mouth rivaled the most perfect Hollywood pout, she winked at her reflection, muttered, “Showtime,” and pushed open the car door with her booted foot. Desert Angel was on the scene and ready to fuck shit up.

Stomping angrily up the stairs to the second level, she made sure to make as much noise as humanly possible on her way to the apartment at the end. That was all the warning she was giving.

At the door, she stopped, made sure she had a plan, and then went for it. Swiftly pushing, she barged straight in as the wood slammed heavily against the inner wall with a loud thud.

Hehehe.
Sound effects were so awesome sometimes! Angry boots, slamming doors. And she was just getting started.

When she burst into the room, Aldo jumped up from the sofa with a startled yelp. Seeing her coming at him, he started speaking rapidly in Spanish, but she didn’t bother to listen. Finding him on his cell phone had been a stroke of pure luck. While he yelled and waved his arms, she made straight for the phone, snatching it out of his hand before he could stop her.

Though he’d disconnected the call, the screen hadn’t timed out yet, essentially giving her an unrestricted all access pass to his sordid little life. When he tried to grab the phone back, she deflected the attempt with a vicious slap, turning away and quickly putting half the room and all the furniture between them.

First, she checked his call log. Call after call after call, all to the same number, filled the screen. Baby mama? Probably. Or maybe the fuckwad was cheating on her, as well. Wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Then, for shits ‘n’ grins, she started scrolling through his photos, and holy crap, what a goldmine of douchebaggery was on display there. There were dozens of photos of him with countless women, all in seriously questionable circumstances, including a couple that told Angie he found someone willing to whip his sorry ass.
Ewwwww.

But the absolute best part? The sleazy little fucker easily had a hundred truly captivating shots of what’s called a Dick Pic. Jackpot! In seconds, she’d forwarded two dozen or so of the most incriminatingly embarrassing photos to her email for safe keeping. Damage control. She wanted to laugh but knew she couldn’t. It would ruin the kickass performance she was putting on.

“Querida, I can explain.”

Was he still talking? Sheesh. You’d think there was somebody wanting to listen to his sorry shit, but that person wasn’t her.

Ignoring him completely after throwing the big iPhone at his head and secretly hoping the screen cracked, she stormed into the bedroom and went in search of his bags.

While Aldo ranted and raved, alternating between lame threats and pathetic whining, she gathered his crap and stuffed everything into a suitcase. In the bathroom, she used a sweeping arm gesture that she remembered seeing in a movie once to dramatically force his toiletries into a travel case. Was all sorts of fun, especially with him getting more frantic and crazier by the minute.

It was abundantly clear to Angie that he knew damn well the jig was up the minute she burst in on him. What a dick.

Lugging his big bag and the four or five smaller ones he traveled with to the door, she kept right on going, grunting and chugging as she dragged the heavy cases along the outside balcony to the steps, and from there, with much banging, she pulled everything down the stairs to the waiting car.

Throwing everything into the SUV almost wiped her out until she spied that rat bastard gawking at her from the top of the stairs and an instant spike of anger fueled adrenaline raced through her system.

“Get your ass down here, Aldo. If you’re not in this car when I pull away, I’ll have the local authorities arrest you for stalking and harassment and don’t think for a second that I won’t do just that.”

He stood still, a stunned expression on his face.
Whatever.
She had better shit to do. He either heeded the threat or forced her to follow through. His choice.

Whirling away from him, she marched to the driver’s door and yanked it open. Glaring back at a man she now realized she never knew at all, Angie barked, “What’s it going to be? The car or handcuffs?”