Spread Your Wings: Men in Blue, Book 4 Read online

  Jambrea had nothing but two men who wouldn’t be straight with her. They came to a gentle stop as Matt eased into a parking spot. “Let me out, Clint.”

  She practically shoved him because it was the only way she could escape. Even the short ride to the venue where two of her dearest friends would vow publicly what their hearts had already sworn to each other had riled her. Clint and Matt’s powerful thighs on either side of hers had scorched her through her flimsy scarlet dress. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they intended to do something…anything…about it.

  Her hopes of that had long since evaporated.

  “What’d I do?” The pinch of Clint’s lips made her fingers itch to reach out and reassure him. Reality was, he kept hurting her and she’d had enough. At some point, self-preservation had to come before coddling.

  “Nothing.” She practically spat the denial at him. “I can’t believe Lily stuck me with both of you in the processional. Can’t even have a freaking normal date like every other woman in the world.”

  “You know there was an uneven number of guys and girls.” Matt tried to defuse the situation.

  “Yeah, that’s why she did it.” Jambrea rolled her eyes. As if Lily wasn’t a professional at manipulating people, though not in a malicious way. Surely, her friend had been trying to be helpful.

  She ignored Clint’s proffered hand and slid from the truck, clutching her purse—embroidered with black lilies and red roses, a bridesmaid’s gift from Lily—like a shield against the way his soulful gaze turned her insides to mush.

  “You’re saying we didn’t just get lucky?” Matt joined her on the pavement after circling the hood of his baby.

  “I haven’t gotten lucky in forever. Certainly not with you two dumbasses.” It might not have been ladylike, but she stomped off, leaving them in her wake. It was either that or bash them with her clutch. How could they be so dense? And if they didn’t want her, why did they keep sending her mixed signals?

  Fortunately, the troupe of cops and wives—including her fellow nurse Lacey—who’d become her dear friends milled out front, available to run interference. Izzy squealed when she saw Jambrea approaching. The pixie practically bounced in place, her blond curls springing, until Jambrea came in for a much-needed hug.

  “You look amazing!” Lacey joined in the barrage of embraces.

  “Thanks.” She scanned what she could see of herself, thinking again that the dress was more flattering than she’d imagined it would be. Shapewear to the rescue.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you out of scrubs,” Mason, one of Lacey’s husbands, teased Jambrea, though his smile was warm and his gaze appreciative. He gave her a squeeze that set her more at peace.

  “Let’s check the floof factor.” Izzy’s fiancé, James Reoser, snagged Jambrea’s hand and swirled her in a move he must have learned in his ballroom dancing days. She giggled as the skirt of her dress fluttered outward and her anger leeched away on the resulting breeze, replaced by appreciation for her friends.

  Apparently, Tyler—Lacey’s other husband—approved. “Pretty darn good. Maybe you’ll let me have a turn at the reception, Jambi?”

  “You’re on.” She beamed at the gathering, reminding herself how fortunate she was to have a by-choice family this strong. Which reminded her of their growing numbers. “How’re you feeling today, Izzy? How’s Razor Jr.?”

  Lily’s half-sister, bright and bubbly, rubbed her hand over the baby bump her bouquet couldn’t quite hide. She and James were waiting until after their newest addition made an appearance to get hitched themselves. Probably meant another dress, more makeup and someone doing her hair again.

  Secretly, Jambrea couldn’t wait.

  As long as she could swing a real date. Or attend solo.

  When Matt and Clint ambled over to the group, probably having argued again for a bit, she didn’t feel like ruining the vibe. She fanned herself with the luscious bouquet Izzy handed her, then announced, “I’m going to head inside. Don’t want to get sweaty.”

  “Okay, we’ll be in shortly.” Izzy waved to her, though her narrowed eyes probably meant she was on to Jambrea’s ruse. Sometimes dodging was the right move.

  Ushers she recognized as some of Lily’s submissives guided her to a holding room off the auditorium, which generally hosted events of a somewhat baser nature. They’d done up the space brilliantly for today, draping crimson and black tulle from the ceiling and lighting what looked like a million tapers held in ornate candelabras of all shapes and sizes. Gilded mirrors reflected light and warmth from every direction.

  Moisture gathered in the corners of Jambrea’s eyes. The hall, which even vampire nobility would be proud to get married in, was perfect for her friends—dramatic, intense, serious and gorgeous.

  Before she could bawl and ruin her face, she stepped into the waiting room.

  Inside, two people had already taken their positions. Lucas and Ellie.

  “Hey there.” She waved at the pair as she joined them. Both had suffered horrific injuries in the Sex Offender scandal. Lucas, physical ones; Ellie, more emotional wounds. If they could carry on, Jambrea scolded herself, then she had no business whining. Again she ran her finger over her tattoo.

  “Hi, Jambi.” Ellie beamed. It was so nice to see her smile again.

  “You look really pretty.” Lucas peeled his stare from Ellie for long enough to give Jambrea a cursory glance. She didn’t mind. It was sweet to see the two of them together. The more she mulled it over, the more she thought they might be good support for each other. They had a lot in common. Unfortunately, not much of it was good stuff.

  “Thank you.” The nurse in Jambrea immediately noticed Lucas rubbing his thigh compulsively. She’d facilitated his rehab sessions enough times to know he was overexerting himself by loitering, even with the aid of his cane. He’d pay for this later. Still, she knew better than to dishonor his efforts by calling him out. So she took up a post on the far side of the space and pretended to study a painting of a woman suspended in an intricate web of ropes while she peeked at the unlikely friends from the corner of her eye.

  Ellie, however, didn’t have the same healthy respect for the temper of an injured man. Or maybe she just didn’t give a shit about Lucas’s bark. The thin woman had lived through unspeakable abuse. The ire of one pissed off ex-military commando would seem like nothing to her. The fact that Lucas had been maimed while trying to rescue her from The Scientist probably added to her concern. Guilt could drive people to do crazy things.

  “If it’s sore, why not use your wheelchair? The ceremony won’t take long, but it’ll feel like forever if you’re hurting. I bet your leg is already past numb to burning again, huh?” Ellie didn’t shy away from Lucas’s foul mood. Not even when he snarled at her. Truth was, she’d endured much worse.

  “I’m not gonna let you push me down the aisle like an invalid.” He rejected her help. Jambrea had seen that one coming a mile away. She’d dealt with prideful patients enough to know he’d fought to walk again, against all his doctors’ expectations. Sentencing himself to the chair so publicly wasn’t going to happen unless he had absolutely no other choice.

  The man’s pain tolerance was legendary. Accounts of his heroics in the dungeon of Morselli’s lair were only surpassed by those the nurses and hospital staff recounted from his recovery and therapy sessions.

  “Better to fall on your face like a self-absorbed fool and ruin Lily and Jeremy’s day? Of course, you’re right.” Ellie turned her nose up and gave him the cold shoulder. At least for a few seconds.

  “Shit. Fine. Hand me the damn thing. I’ll rest until the last second, okay?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Still, he waited for Ellie to accept his compromise.

  She beamed so quickly Jambrea wondered if that hadn’t been the slender woman’s goal all along. Crafty little bitch. Jambi liked her.

  Ellie rolled the chair into position and held it steady as Lucas sank his jumbo frame into the seat. When she patted his b
road shoulder, she let her hand linger to massage the tension there. Lucas didn’t stop her. Interesting. “There you go. Want me to do your leg for a bit?”

  Jambrea thought he’d erupt again.

  Instead, he agreed in a gruff whisper, “Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

  Well, holy shit. Maybe some men were less obstinate than others. Did she know how to pick ’em or what?

  Ellie knelt in front of the man who’d sacrificed a hell of a lot for her safety. No, existence. He groaned, his head dropping back, when she showed no mercy. After a few minutes, the rumble of approaching voices echoed outside their door.

  “Enough.” He called Ellie off and she didn’t object, quickly rising to greet their friends.

  Thankfully, they’d barely all jammed inside, creating a buffer between Jambrea, Matt and Clint, before one of the event organizers called them to attention.

  Jambrea shuffled around people to help Ellie lever Lucas to his feet once more.

  “Thanks.” He grunted as his injury bore his weight.

  “Anytime.” She didn’t suppress the urge to hug him, glad when he returned the embrace. Whispering in his ear—easy to do considering her heels and her natural height combined—she coached him, “You’re doing great. Remember to lean on the cane. You can keep most of the pressure off.”

  “I got it.” He tightened his grip for a moment then dropped his arms so fast she thought he might have been offended.

  “What’s this? Trying to steal my girl?” Matt. Damn.

  “Didn’t see your Property Of stamp on her forehead. Sorry.” Lucas wasn’t about to take shit from anyone. Not even the hulk bearing down on them.

  Before things could really degenerate, the usher lined them up. With Jambrea smack in the middle of Matt and Clint. Each one of them curled a hand around one of her elbows. And it was as if she’d never abandoned the steamy cab of the truck. Electricity arced between them. Damn men.

  Izzy and Razor were the first couple to march down the aisle, beaming at the guests gathered to witness the exchanged vows. Everyone else shuffled forward.

  “Look, we only have a few seconds, but…we’re sorry, Jambi.” Matt wasn’t really the smooth-talker of the duo. To see him struggle to right things made her a little more confident.

  “Yeah, we know we keep fucking up.” Clint took over, making the most of their precious moments. From behind them, Lucas issued a brief laugh and muttered something that sounded like, No kidding. “We want to make things right. Later, can we talk about how?”

  “Of course.” She might have said more except just then they were called forward. Her two dates escorted her to the front of the room before leaving her with the lingering trail of their fingertips. Minutes later, she still tingled where they’d touched.

  From her spot in the line of attendants, Jambrea could see the place of honor Lily had given to her submissives. Ryan and Ben sat closest to the center aisle. Then Ramone. Bruce and Daniel. Cameron and his new Master—whom he’d met at Gunther’s—and all the others took up the entire front row. Behind them sat Lily’s assistants—Kitty, Dawn, Ive, Suz and Gigi. Each man and woman seemed genuinely thrilled for their Mistress, boss and mentor, who would pledge herself to the only man she’d ever knelt for. On Jeremy’s side, the police chief and a woman JRad had once rescued, Zina, held hands as they sat among a slew of other friends and relatives. Jambrea even thought she spotted Rhonda—a woman they’d all gotten to know and love at barbeques when she and Lacey had shared a backyard—sitting next to Mama Rose, Tyler’s mom.

  And just then, the music changed. Violins played classical music that might have seemed at odds with the somber interior of the club if Jambrea hadn’t become educated on the sanctity of this place for its members.

  Jeremy strode to the front of the room. He stood tall in his black leather pants and matching satin shirt. A watch set in a studded cuff adorned one wrist. His wedding present from his soon-to-be wife. The women had all helped her design it. On him, it was perfect.

  He looked formidable and knockout sexy. Comfortable in his own skin. Jambrea couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized what he kept hidden beneath his police uniform back in the early days of their acquaintance.

  Maybe everyone needed that one special person, or people, to unlock their inner spirit.

  Jambrea glanced across the room at Matt, then Clint. Both men were staring at her. She fidgeted with her dress, smoothing any wrinkles as best she could given the flowers in her grip. Clint winked at her.

  Though she tried to smother it, a smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. Why did he have to be so damn fine? And always know how to make her feel less self-conscious.

  A murmur ran through the crowd.

  Jambrea glanced toward the back of the room. She could see why. Lily. Gorgeous and austere in her black lace dress—a red leather corset molded her torso with the long skirt and train flowing from beneath—she clung to the arm Gunther extended and accepted his kiss on her artfully rouged cheeks. Lily’s locks waved down her back, unstraightened and unbraided. A rarity. Loose and free, they rippled alongside her face then over her shoulder all the way to her waist. If Jambrea had hair like that, she’d never wear it any other way. As hers was thin and fine, she’d always chosen to keep hers short to maintain the illusion of fullness.

  Jeremy made a small sound that drew her attention. The computer geek turned Master rubbed his chest over his heart and the bunch of lilies she knew were tattooed there. Razor, JRad’s best friend, clapped him on the shoulder for support. The groom didn’t appear to notice. Instead, his world seemed full of Lily. The palpable love connecting the two people Jambrea cared about, despite their distance, wrung her guts with joy and envy simultaneously.

  She peeked at Matt and Clint. Again, she found them both gazing at her.

  Maybe she’d been too harsh on them earlier.

  Maybe they could make up at the reception.

  Maybe tonight could be different.

  Please, let it be different.

  After one last prayer, all thoughts turned to her friends and the pledges they swore. It was beautiful. Perfect. Everlasting.

  “Can I bring you another drink, ma’am?” The waiter swung past her table in his circuit of frequent rounds. No extravagance had been spared in the party Gunther had thrown for his protégé, who might as well have been his son, and his new quasi daughter-in-law. Fitting since the pair were also the stars of his shockingly successful new facility.

  “I’ll take two this time.” She slammed the last of the prior fruity concoction, then set the glass on the waiter’s tray. If it wobbled a little, it was probably because he held the platter precariously balanced on one palm.

  “Are you sure, Jambi?” Clint leaned closer to be heard over the music, which all their friends danced to. “The cocktails are stronger than you might realize. They’re using the good stuff, so it doesn’t taste as much like booze.”

  “I know my limits.” Daring him to object, she stared daggers at him, then Matt just for the hell of it. Talk, her ass. They’d relegated her to the friend zone the moment they’d sat down to dinner together. Sure, it’d been fun. She always had a great time with them, but it was fake. They were ignoring all the other layers deeper than pals.

  Pretty soon she was going to lose it. But not here. Not in public.

  Awkward, she and her dates comprised the sole occupants of the dais designated for the wedding party. Even Ellie and Lucas seemed to have wandered off somewhere, maybe the gardens.

  “Hey, Jambs, come on,” Izzy shouted to her from the dance floor, waving to their group. The couples had split up a bit now that something other than endless love songs bleated from the speakers. All too eager to leave her dates, Jambrea shot to her feet.

  Clint braced her when she teetered. Damn heels. She smacked his overly familiar hand before it could work any of its hornifying magic. Enough with the pheromones already.

  Then she sauntered onto the floor in time to the beat and tried to
burn off a little of the buzz she might have underestimated. Lost in the music and revelry, surrounded by friends, she forgot about some of her angst. Until Lacey leaned in and whisper-shouted, “Matt and Clint are about to choke on their tongues over there. Show me some hip shimmies!”

  Fuck them. Why not?

  Jambrea obliged.

  It wasn’t long before Lacey’s face lit up. “Incoming.”

  “What?” Jambrea peeked over her shoulder. Sure enough, the two men she’d obsessed over for the past year or so stalked closer. She whipped her head back around toward her friends. “They don’t dance.”

  “Maybe they will for you.” Izzy grinned as she ground her backside against her fiancé, who wrapped his arms protectively around her and the child she carried.

  “I doubt it.” Jambrea refused to let them ruin her fun though. If anything, she redoubled the swivel of her ass and dug into the groove of the beat.

  And then there were hands on her waist, turning her. From the way her captor’s thumbs nearly touched in the base of her spine, they could only belong to Matt. He tucked her close to the furnace of his body and rocked in a basic side-to-side step, mostly in time to the music. She closed her eyes and settled against him, thrilled to feel the growing erection he pressed to the small of her back.

  “Hey, mind if I cut in?” Clint asked.

  Jambrea blinked when he reached out, cupping her ribs in his palms. Four hands on her at once nearly short-circuited her brain.

  “Actually, I do,” Matt growled.

  “Too bad.” The other man wasn’t retreating. Instead he pressed closer, flanking her with their gyrating bodies. Her breasts brushed his chest as she undulated, caught between rubbing herself on one or the other. Or both, after Clint took another half-step in.

  Instinctively, she wrapped one arm around his neck while the other reached behind her to palm Matt’s ass. Her head fell back, resting on his chest. Clint leaned in and took a taste of her exposed neck. When someone whistled, they all jolted. What the hell was happening? Where were they again?