Justice

by Karen Robards

  As far as he was concerned, it was Jess who needed the sympathy and support, not the other way around. But try convincing her of that.

  Jess took care of her sisters, took care of her mother, took care of everybody. It was one of the things that made him crazy and had made him crazy about her at the same time. One of the things that had made him think, once upon a time, This one’s a keeper. Of course, that was before he’d discovered her less-attractive traits, like distrust and jealousy and paranoia and temper, which latter quality had been on eye-opening display as she’d blasted him with her opinion of his character before casting him, as she had supposed at the time, permanently out of her life.

  Not that that was going to be possible. Even if she apparently hadn’t figured it out yet, the stone-cold truth was that the dangerous knowledge they shared about Annette Cooper’s murder meant that they were forever linked.

  It was kind of like having a child together. Because of Taylor, he was permanently connected to his social-climbing, money-grubbing, blame-laying, divorcing-for-the-third-time ex-wife, too.

  He didn’t necessarily have to like it. But there was absolutely nothing he could do to change it.

  “It was so embarrassing.” Maddie sounded both furious and anguished. “There were all these couples and me. Just me, all alone. At our first Lamaze class. Brice swore he’d show up and so I told them all he was coming, and the whole class waited on him. And he didn’t come until something like five minutes before the end. And he didn’t even apologize. He didn’t care.”

  Jess said, “If you want, I’ll track him down and cut off his balls for you.”

  Mark heard that because he’d just fallen in behind the two of them, not too close, as they reached the steps. He was pretty sure she was being facetious. Still, knowing how fierce Jess could be in defense of her family, his own cojones shrank just a little in automatic reaction. That kid had no idea of the kind of trouble he was courting if he kept messing with Maddie.

  Maddie sniffled as she and Jess negotiated the quartet of concrete steps that led to the small covered porch. “He’s the father of my child. Or I’d say yes.”

  “Maybe later, then.”

  “He says he’s not ready for a baby. Well, guess what, me neither. But I’m having one, ready or not,” Maddie continued bitterly. She was no longer crying, which had to count as a good sign.

  “Brice is immature.”

  Mark knew Jess was being careful about what she said, not wanting to trash the kid until she was sure he and Maddie weren’t going to manage to make it up. Of course, Maddie and the entire family were going to be connected to her baby daddy forever, like it or not, in another one of those fate-mandated permanent connections. Not that any of them seemed to have grasped that yet.

  “Well, time to grow up.” This time Maddie’s bitterness was pronounced.

  Mark realized he must have made some small sound or otherwise done something to remind Jess of his presence, because she glanced around then, her eyes meeting his behind Maddie’s back as he climbed the stairs in their wake. He had been admiring her ass. It was, as he’d told her, a nice one, even if he had said it to piss her off, and the way the snug pink skirt clung as she moved reflexively drew his gaze. Fortunately, he’d stopped before she’d turned to look at him. No way had she caught him at it. But still, even through the shadowy darkness, there was no mistaking the glare she gave him. From it, Mark got the distinct impression that he was unwanted. Innocently, he pointed to the pillow. Well, somebody had had to fetch it.

  “We’ll get you through this.” Jess’s tone was soothing as she replied to something else Maddie said. Her eyes met Mark’s again, unwelcoming as before. He smiled at her. In return, if looks could have killed, he would have died on the spot.

  “I just—I want my baby to have a father.” Maddie’s forlorn confession redirected Jess’s attention and unexpectedly touched Mark. “A real father.”

  “We never had one and we turned out fine.” Jess’s tone was bracing. “Believe me, men are overrated.”

  It was a double-sided message, with one particularly well-honed edge meant for him.

  “But we always wanted one. At least, I did.”

  That was apparently unanswerable, because Jess said nothing in reply. Having crested the stairs, Mark discreetly hung back while Jess and Maddie, still arm-in-arm, crossed the porch. With the curtains open, he could see inside the living room. He was familiar with it—yellow walls, floral couch with its back to the window, a wooden rocking chair and a blue plush recliner, all facing the fireplace and the plasma TV that was mounted above it—and so he paid no attention except for a quick glance to ascertain that the room was empty. The large window spilled light out over the porch, illuminating the white-painted garden swing that hung from the ceiling and the dusty fern that huddled in a plant stand in the far corner.

  He and Jess had spent a number of late spring evenings just sitting there in that swing talking and watching the world go by. That, of course, had been when they’d still been talking, and the memory might have made him nostalgic if he’d let it.

  Not that he meant to. Like Jess had said, their relationship was over, and for now he was prepared to leave it at that. The last thing he needed was a new marriage, to say nothing of a new wife. He must have had rocks in his head to have even considered it.

  But if somebody got to Jess, it was going to be over his dead body.

  All of a sudden the porch felt way too exposed.

  By that time Maddie and Jess had reached the front door. Maddie had her key out. As she inserted it into the lock, Jess held back to give her room, and not incidentally to glare at him as he stepped up behind her, positioning himself between her and the street.

  Jess whispered, “Probably this would be a good time for you to go away.”

  He whispered back, “Thanks, Mark, for saving my life.”

  “Shh. Would you please leave?”

  “Nope. And unless you can come up with a better explanation for why you’re with me, I’d suggest you start acting like you like me again.”

  Her eyes glinted at him. “When pigs—”

  “Mark!” The door opened, and either because of that, or because his presence on the small porch, coupled with the whispering going on between him and Jess, was impossible to miss any longer, Maddie turned at that moment and saw him. Since she was now awash in the light from the entry hall, he was able to see that her first reaction on finding him there was pleasure. That was good: he had a real soft spot for Maddie. Then clearly she remembered that he’d supposedly done her sister wrong. Her brows snapped together and her expression darkened as her eyes swung from him to Jess. “Nobody told me you’d gotten back together with Attila the Hun.”

  “We’re not back together,” Jess replied. From the Attila the Hun reference, which Taylor had used on Facebook—as in, Attila the Hun’s going ape-shit over nothing as usual—Mark was reminded that Maddie was now Taylor’s good friend. He sighed inwardly. His daughter stayed with him most weekends, and being a single father to a young woman who seemed determined to grow up fast was a challenge he hadn’t anticipated. Boarding school had only been a threat, although it was a threat he wasn’t kidding about if the situation with the boyfriend continued to deteriorate. Grounding his daughter had been his immediate reaction for a transgression that had made him want to alternately shake her and tear out his hair in fear for her. Thus he was now Attila the Hun. Well, he could deal.

  “Good to see you too, Maddie.” His voice was dry.

  The sound of another vehicle coming fast down the street toward them made his shoulder blades tighten. After a quick, assessing glance at the oncoming headlights, Mark used his superior size to herd both ladies inside, then stepped in after them. From the muffled sound of laughter and voices that greeted them, Mark realized that there were a number of other people somewhere in the house, which wasn’t a surprise. Judy Ford Turner Whalen, Jess’s gregarious, three-times-married-and-currently-widowed m
other, was a people person. Being alone didn’t suit her, and so she very rarely was. Which was why her house should be a fairly safe place for Jess to hang out until he could assess the magnitude of the threat. With an expression that told him she wasn’t happy about his presence, Jess watched in silence as he closed the door.

  Turning around, he smiled at her. A little mockingly, although not so much so that Maddie would necessarily pick up on it.

  See, the thing was, Jess was fresh out of options. What was she going to do, tell him to get lost? If she did, all he had to do was tell her mother about the attack on her and the danger she might still be in, and Judy would be begging him to stick to her daughter for life.

  Which he and Jess both knew. And acknowledged via a lightning exchange of clashing glances.

  Outside, the passing vehicle didn’t even slow down. Mark tracked its progress through the living room window, and then through the narrow glass panes on either side of the front door.

  Dismissing the visions of drive-by shootings, Molotov cocktails, and the like that had been dancing in his brain, Mark handed Maddie the pillow she had thrown.

  “Thanks.” She clutched it to her chest.

  Unburdening himself of Jess’s bags, he handed them over next.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Jess gave him a false smile. “Well, I appreciate the ride, but …”

  Before she could finish her fated-to-fail attempt to get rid of him, a voice from the direction of the kitchen called, “Maddie? Is that you? Who’s that you’re talking to?”

  Judy.

  “Jess,” Maddie called back. She was already making a beeline toward the kitchen. Mark noticed she made no mention of him. Jess glared meaningfully at him, looking as if she hoped that by sheer force of will she could force him back out the door. Physically, she didn’t stand a chance, or he had little doubt she’d try.

  “How was your class?” Judy’s question to Maddie floated out to the hall. Maddie responded with something Mark didn’t quite catch, although the overall tone was pure growl.

  “If I were you, I’d say my air-conditioning went out.” Mark’s advice was given in a confidential aside to Jess as he moved to follow Maddie. Jess’s eyes shot daggers by way of a reply. Skirting her, Mark headed toward the kitchen. It had been a while since he’d seen his once future mother-in-law, and he had no idea what kind of reception to expect. He discovered he was kind of looking forward to finding out. An only child himself, he’d missed Jess’s big, boisterous family.

  “When it comes to having babies, you can forget your classes. The only thing that helps is drugs.” Judy’s advice was underlined by the scraping sound of a chair being pushed back. A babble of observations from her guests on the trials and tribulations of childbirth broke off abruptly as Mark entered the kitchen in Maddie’s wake. A little surprised at the sudden dead silence that greeted him, Mark scanned the group of middle-aged and older women sitting around the kitchen table. They looked back at him with a mixed bag of expressions that ranged from consternation to wariness to what he was fairly certain was out-and-out fear. His first thought was that they hadn’t been expecting a man to appear in their midst and were concerned because they felt they weren’t looking their best. His second was … he didn’t know, but he was intrigued. Two of the women were waving their hands in an effort to dissipate a thin cloud of whitish smoke. One stern-faced lady had iron gray hair that hung straight to the middle of her ears. Another, thin, with a lived-in kind of face, had a salt-and-pepper crew cut. The rest were various shades of blond. They were casually dressed, in T-shirts or short-sleeved blouses, or, in the case of the lady with the crew cut, in a pink terry robe that zipped up the front.

  “Uh, by the way, Mark’s here,” Maddie said.

  “Mark.” Judy sounded, and looked, delighted to see him. Smiling broadly, she hurried toward him. Pleasingly plump, or, as she liked to put it, generously curved, fifty-two-year-old Judy wore jeans and a pale blue T-shirt with some kind of saying in French printed on it: Voulezvous couchez avec moi ce soir? Mark translated and smiled. Would you like to go to bed with me tonight? That pretty much summed up Judy. About Maddie’s height, which meant she was inches taller than Jess, with short platinum blond hair that flipped up in little wisps around her ears and nape, Judy had blue eyes, regular features, plump cheeks, and a round chin. Lots of makeup—tonight’s eye shadow was electric blue—and a minimum of wrinkles made her look younger than her age. She was an attractive woman, and she knew it. She was also naturally flirtatious, with a deep appreciation for men.

  The opposite of her oldest daughter, in fact.

  Reaching him, she enfolded him in a hug. Mark hugged her back with genuine affection.

  “Never tell me you two are getting back together?” Letting him go, she addressed the question as much to someone behind him as to him. Mark didn’t have to look around to know Jess was there.

  “Working on it,” he answered before Jess could, receiving a sharp jab in the ribs from Jess’s elbow in payback as she passed him. She’d lost the purse and the other bag, and he could only assume she’d set them down somewhere.

  “Oh, honey, I saw you on TV today.” Judy hugged Jess, then stood back to run her eyes over her. “In your pretty pink suit. You looked so nice. You know how much I like you blond. And you won!” Then she looked a little closer at her daughter and frowned. “What in the world did you do to your face?”

  “I ran into a door.” Jess got away with her brief reply because the other women all started talking at once. Looking at her, Mark saw that the place on her temple where that bastard had punched her was puffy and starting to turn purple. If most of it hadn’t been covered by her hair, the door excuse wouldn’t have flown. He had little doubt that she had other bruises as well.

  Mark was suddenly consumed by a wholly primitive urge to kill. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Realizing, he consciously relaxed them.

  Judy’s friends were chiming in with the TV talk.

  “I saw you, too.” “I was at work, and it came on during lunch.” “I told ’em you’re my neighbor’s daughter.” “First time I ever knew anybody who was on TV who wasn’t getting arrested.” “You’re a real celebrity now.”

  Jess smiled by way of a reply. Judy chose that moment to introduce him.

  “This is Diane, Lennie, Pat, Dee-Dee, Betsy,” she said, waving a beringed hand at each in turn. “My book group. This is Jess’s Mark.”

  Jess looked sour at the description, but she didn’t dispute it. Which didn’t signify anything except a desire not to argue with her mother in front of visitors, Mark knew.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Slightly mystified by the looks he was still getting from the assembled ladies, Mark tried putting them at ease with a smile.

  They smiled back, but the impression they gave was of nervous hens eyeing a fox.

  Maddie, over by the refrigerator pouring herself a glass of milk, grinned maliciously at him. Okay, clearly there was something going on here that he was missing. Then the smoke must have wafted his way at last, because the smell hit him, registered, and suddenly he understood: Judy and her friends had been smoking weed. His mind boggled. The shock of it widened his eyes. The ladies around the table stared back at him, looking guilty.

  “I didn’t know you had company,” Jess said apologetically to her mother and hooked her hand around Mark’s elbow. Since she never would have done that except under conditions of extreme duress, he realized that Jess was aware of the situation, too. “We’ll get out of your way. You don’t mind if I stay the night, do you? Uh, my air conditioner broke.”

  “Of course you can spend the night. You can always spend the night. This is your home.” Judy frowned as Jess drew Mark out of the kitchen. “But what about Grace?”

  “I think she was planning to stay overnight with a friend,” Jess replied. With a last wave at the flustered ladies, she towed Mark around the corner and out of sight.

/>   “Isn’t he the Secret Service agent?” Despite Jess’s determined efforts, Mark was still close enough to hear the hushed question. “Do you think he noticed anything?”

  Whichever woman had spoken sounded worried. Well, given what the ladies were up to, it wasn’t any wonder.

  “Don’t worry, he’s cool,” Maddie answered, then added darkly, “sometimes.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t even realize.” Judy’s tone was reassuring. “You know how thick men are.”

  “He’s real cute,” said one. “And he’s got a good job. Your Jess better hold on to that one.”

  Upon hearing that, Jess shot him a look that would have made a lesser man cringe. He threw up both hands in disavowal.

  Then a babble of talk broke out that Jess and Mark were, probably fortunately, now too far away to decipher. They were back in the hall by that time, and Jess was towing him determinedly toward the door.

  “Your mother and her friends are smoking weed in the kitchen.” If he sounded slightly bemused, it was because he was.

  “If you have a problem with what you saw, all I can say is it’s your own fault for not leaving when I tried to get you to go the first time,” she told him in a severe undertone. “Dee-Dee’s getting chemo. It makes her sick, and pot’s the only thing that helps. When she gets a treatment, all her friends from the book club get together and they do a sleepover. Well, actually, they sit up all night talking and whatever, but still. I guess tonight was Mom’s turn to host.” She stopped in front of the door to skewer him with a look. “Believe me, none of them would be here if they’d known I was going to show up with you.”

  “Hey, I’m a Secret Service agent, not a cop. It’s nothing to do with me.”