Justin

by Kris Michaels

  "Listen, that shit wasn't funny growing up, and it isn't funny now. I'm surrounded by asshole brothers." Jacob mumbled the last part into the phone.

  "Poor widdle Jacob." Justin taunted.

  "Fuck you, meathead."

  "Oh, so eloquent, little man. Please tell me you don't work in communications for Guardian." Justin flopped onto the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. Fuck, he was tired.

  "I send messages, but usually not with words." Jacob gave an evil chuckle.

  "I don't even want to know."

  "Good. You know that old saying, ‘If I told you, I'd have to kill you?’ It applies here."

  "Well then, by all means, keep it to yourself. I enjoy breathing."

  "Noted. Hey, when are you coming back? We need to get together. You won't recognize the boys. They are growing like weeds. Tori wants to start doing a family reunion once a year. She says it is the only way the boys will see all of their aunts and uncles at the same time, but with Jewell's wedding, we may pass on this year and start planning it for next year."

  "That sounds good. I just need to know a date as soon as possible, so I can schedule my meetings and travel around the event." The thought of a family reunion made his stomach flop. He was good with short periods of intense questioning, like at weddings, but a weekend of interrogation? Not so much.

  "You can't blow this off. We never see you. I want the boys to know their uncle, and don't you dare tell anyone this, but I miss your ugly ass, too."

  "It hasn't been that long." That was a lie. It had been...

  "Years, Justin. Two fucking years and that is two fucking years too long."

  "Yeah." What else could he say?

  "You still calling Mom?"

  "Weekly. She'd hunt me down if I didn't."

  "Well, at least that's something. Do me a favor, come home. Let us see you."

  "I'll try. My schedule is insane, but I promise, I'll try." He wasn't sure if he was lying or not. Maybe he would drive down to D.C. and surprise them. That way he could leave on his schedule, not theirs.

  "You travel more than anyone I know." Jacob laughed and added, "Which begs the question who, or what, are you running away from?"

  Justin flinched because his therapist had asked almost the exact same question about a month ago. He responded to Jacob with the same words he gave Doctor Morrissett, "What makes you think I'm running away from something, and not running toward something?" His doctor had raised an eyebrow and stated Justin shouldn't ever run towards death or serious bodily injuries. Jacob just laughed. His brother had no idea who or what Justin had become.

  Chapter 6

  Danielle pulled the suede wrapped elastic from her hair and literally let her hair down. The conversation from a few moments ago played on a loop in her brain. She couldn't shake her disappointment. There was nothing between them but friendship, and she knew it, but she’d always nurtured the hope there could be something more...until today. Justin hadn't denied she wasn't his type. No, rather than hurt her, he offered a consolation prize. He said he cared for her.

  The little part of her mother she couldn't eradicate pushed into her thoughts. It had been years since her mother had slid over the edge of sanity and been committed. The last months they were together had scarred Danielle in ways she probably would never recover from, but meeting her father had helped. They'd formed a relationship based on trust—something she hadn't had before mental illness took her mother. Regardless, at times like these, she could still hear her mother's voice, “You are worthless, Danielle, just a stupid, worthless, girl. You’ll never be of any use to anyone.” She pulled her hands through her hair before she dropped face first into the down duvet that covered the king-sized hotel bed. She grabbed a pillow, shoved her face into it and screamed in frustration and disillusionment.

  Flopping onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Well, she was better off knowing. Right? Maybe. She batted that thought around like a badminton birdie. She careened from one side to the other until she just couldn't run it through her mind again. Realistically, she'd just have to suck it up and deal with the fact that Justin King would never be anything more than a friend. On the bright side, she didn't need that complication in her life. She already served two masters. She wouldn't taint the brand Justin was building with the hallmark of her other...well, employer, for lack of a better term. A shiver of apprehension ran through her at that thought. No, not employer. That didn't come close to describing her relationship to the owner of Phoenix Armament.

  Her phone vibrated in her purse and her tablet pinged a few seconds later. That meant a direct message...which meant work, probably the New York office. JK Holdings’ personnel were just beginning their day. Danielle rolled to her side and grabbed the handle of her purse and pulled it toward her. She read the message and rolled her eyes. Sleep was no longer in the equation.

  Three hours later, with all the fires put out and tasks assigned to the department heads, she padded out, freshly washed and wrapped in a pair of ancient shorts and an extra-large cotton t-shirt. She pulled the hotel-supplied robe and slippers from the closet and wrapped up in the voluminous, plush terry cloth. She would have killed for this earlier when she was freezing, but whatever bug she had last night and most of the day was leaving, because, with the exception of being overly tired, she felt almost human. She picked up the room service menu and turned on the television. Crawling up into the middle of the bed she opened the menu. Oh, wow...the hotel had some decent offerings. Hmmm, Justin would have already tried the Mediterranean menu. It was packed with fresh offerings. Danielle chuckled to herself. Her boss was a bit of a fresh food snob. She stopped and corrected that train of thought immediately. He was actually a culinary elitist and had every right to that claim. The man made his name providing only the best of haute cuisine to the most discerning palate.

  Danielle reached for her phone nestled in the charger and glanced at the time. If Justin wasn't awake, no harm, no foul and she'd pick for herself. If he was, she'd see what he recommended.

  >Have you tried room service? The Med offerings?

  She watched as the three little bubbles started immediately after her text delivered. So... he wasn't asleep.

  >Looking at the menu now. Max just left. Have you eaten?

  >No.

  >Come over. Eat with me.

  Danielle glanced at her pajamas and hotel robe. Ah, that would be a great big no. She snapped a picture of her feet in the too big slippers. It only showed the bottom of the robe and the television. She sent the footie to him. Danielle laughed at her play-on-words. God, she was tired. She followed her sexy slipper shot with a text.

  >No can do. Not dressed for the occasion.

  >Come over. I'm ordering for both of us.

  >I'll have to get dressed, and I'm too tired.

  Whiney, but true. A knock at the door pulled her away from the bubbles percolating on her screen. Danielle rolled off the bed and shuffled to the door, trying to keep the size large slippers from falling off her size small feet. She leaned forward and looked out the peephole. Justin stood there and appeared to be texting on his phone. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

  >Open the door.

  Danielle rolled her eyes, dropped her phone into one of the robe's massive pockets, and cracked the door open, the security chain still in place. She scolded him, "Go away. I don't have any makeup on, and I'm in my pajamas."

  "Come over and eat with me. I'm tired and hungry, and I don't care if you have any makeup on or not. Wear the robe, it looks big enough for both of us. Your modesty is safe."

  Danielle scowled and scooted further behind the door so he couldn't see her. "That's so not the point."

  "What exactly is the point? Are you hungry?"

  "Yes." She was starving, at the point of getting a hunger headache.

  "Then drop the coy routine and come on." Justin backed away from the door. "I'm waiting."

  Danielle growled. Damn the man. Her brain was too foggy with f
atigue to do anything but acquiesce to his orders. She shut the door and then released the security chain before she opened the door and held up her finger silencing anything Justin might have said. She shuffled back to her purse and grabbed her keycard before making the return shuffle to him. He stood directly in front of her and did not move. Danielle drew a deep breath and glared at him.

  "I'm not sure why you think you need makeup. You're beautiful without it." Justin turned abruptly and walked toward his open door.

  Danielle stood frozen to the spot trying to reboot her brain. Did he just... No... Beautiful... Wait... Huh?...

  "Are you coming, or do you need me to carry you?"

  Well, that got her attention, and the questions floating around her brain fell to the floor like lead weights. No, Justin was not carrying her. She could just imagine herself going all Scarlett O'Hara on him and swooning in his arms. Nope, nope, nope. Danielle reached back and shut her door, dropping her keycard into her pocket. The marble flooring accentuated the scraping sound of her slipper shuffle from the hall into the small living area of his suite. Like a beckoning lover, the luscious leather couch sent out an irresistible lure. After making sure the huge robe covered her completely, she ungracefully plopped into the welcoming cushions. A yawn she couldn't stifle escaped. When she finished with a full body shudder, she motioned toward the folders and computer open on the desk. "So, what fires were you putting out?"

  Justin followed her gaze. "Just securing Chef Melvin’s employment for the restaurant here. He agreed to our terms and is giving his notice tomorrow. We had a long discussion about the kitchen area and his vision for the menu. We've been working the particulars for both on Skype for the last two hours."

  "Oh, so you can go back to New York when we are finished here?" Danielle slid the robe belt through her fingers and played with it as she talked.

  "I'll travel back, but not with everyone else." Justin sat down on the couch with her and pointed the remote at the television.

  "Why not? Oh, stop...go back."

  Justin stopped scrolling through channels and reversed his path.

  "Dude, we have to watch this."

  "Die Hard?"

  "Yeah, I mean, good guys, bank robbers and explosions. Bruce Willis and Alan Rickman." Danielle's concentration focused on the television. She loved the movie.

  "Please, they aren't robbing a bank. They are breaking into a vault in the Nakatomi building. The entire concept is bogus. Seven locks, one consisting of a random code, five mechanical locks, and an electromagnetic seal as the last obstacle to the vault."

  Danielle blinked and swung her head toward her boss. "That's a concise analysis. Did you see this movie one too many times, maybe?" She watched him carefully. Her fatigue took a backseat, replaced by curiosity.

  "I grew up with five brothers. We owned the movie, and it played almost continuously for about four months." Justin leaned into the couch cushion landing on his elbow canted toward her. “I believe it was me who finally made the VHS disappear.”

  "Figures. So, you don't think they could break into that vault?" She pointed towards the television as Hans Gruber and the tech that was operating the equipment to break into the mechanical locks filled the screen.

  "Oh, if there is a will, there is a way, but that vault is a Hollywood concept. One they didn't think through to a logical conclusion."

  "What do you mean?" Danielle turned in the cushions, so she faced him. He swung his head toward her, now almost completely vertical, his head almost on her knee.

  "Tell me that a company with six hundred million dollars in bearer bonds secured in a vault wouldn't ensure a random Los Angeles power outage didn't compromise their last line of defense?" Justin turned back to the television and dropped completely onto the couch, stretched out on two-thirds of it with his legs draped over the arm.

  Danielle turned back to the television. "You're right. Anyone who would spend a million dollars on a vault would ensure a power fluctuation would trigger a failsafe. And now that I think about it, the drilling would take much longer, especially if the locking mechanisms were tungsten, titanium, or chromium. If I had that kind of money, I'd ensure the alloy was a combination of all three. A plasma drill would take..."

  Justin abruptly lifted onto his elbow and stared at her, his forehead furrowed.

  She paused at the expression he wore. "What?"

  "Nothing, go on."

  "I was just saying that a plasma drill would be the quickest way to defeat that type of metal, but I'm not aware of anyone building a portable drill that can sustain that heat and intensity for the duration required to break through a combination of the three hardest medals in the world." Danielle shrugged.

  "How do you know that?"

  Justin stared at her like she was a puzzle with about ten pieces missing. She wasn’t. Her education in metallurgy was not her choice. Danielle shrugged. "I'm full of useless trivia. What can I say? I retain things." She turned back to the television. Justin never needed to know how she knew the information. That was something she would hide as long as she could. She could still feel Justin's gaze on her and dropped her eyes to his. The confusion from earlier was gone. What she saw took her breath away. Transfixed, she held his gaze. She didn't imagine it this time. Her eyes traveled down his long body splayed out over two-thirds of the couch. He was interested in being more than her friend if the stiffening reaction in a part of his lower half was any indication.

  "Danielle—" Justin's voice had lowered at least two octaves, sending the air between them into an electrical maelstrom that sucked her breath away. A soft knock on the door shattered the moment and silenced whatever he was going to say. He rolled off the couch and walked towards the door. Danielle threaded her hands through her hair and dropped a drape of tresses in front of her face. She felt the simmering heat of that small moment spread through her.

  Justin King wanted her. What should she do? Well, she should walk away. Pretend that moment never happened. She should go back to her room and go to sleep. Alone. She should value her career and position in the company more than she craved the idea of being with her boss. She should keep her distance because she had another life that he didn't need to get involved in. She could spew a ton of very rational ideas about what she should do.

  The announcement of, “Room service,” and the soft clatter of trays broke her spiraling thoughts.

  "Just put it on the coffee table."

  Danielle lifted her head and did a double take. There were two servers, each carrying large trays laden with silver domed offerings.

  "What did you do, order the entire menu?" She scooted back into the corner of the couch as if the movement would make more space on the table in front of her.

  "I'm starving, and unless you ate while you were running your errands at lunch, you haven't had anything since this morning," Justin spoke as he was handed the folio. He signed and handed the leather wallet back.

  "No, I had things to do and didn't have time."

  "And you didn't eat earlier tonight, because?" Justin asked from where he stood watching the servers unload the trays.

  "Because New York woke up." Danielle dropped her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. "There were several fires not actually fires, oh and one fire that was a three-alarm situation and nobody seemed to recognize it, let alone how to put it out."

  "Ah, so a normal day."

  "Basically. But done from Australia."

  "Right." Justin sat down on the floor next to her position on the couch and started pulling covers off the platters.

  The aromas sneaking around the room barreled forward. "Oh, goodness, please tell me that is lebneh with feta." Her scoot forward to the edge of the couch happened in a blink of an eye. Justin handed her a small paper bag filled with warm pita bread.

  "It is. The hummus is over there, dolmades, spicy potatoes, and beet salad." Justin started adding a small amount of each dish onto a plate as he uncovered the food. "I ordered the lamb tagine and
the lamb shawarma, plus the scallops, because if the scallops are bad, I wanted to make sure we had enough."

  “I think you have enough for a family of five.” Danielle reached out and grabbed a dolma. The grape leaf was tender, and the rice inside exploded with flavor. She closed her eyes and moaned. Justin cleared his throat; at the sound her eyes flew open. He gave her a quick smile before he handed her the array of food he’d neatly arranged on a plate. As she set the china on her lap, her stomach gurgled loud enough for him to hear it.

  “Good lord, woman. Eat!” His laughing command stole some of her embarrassment at the vicious growls emanating from her stomach.

  Danielle stuffed the rest of the dolma into her mouth and ripped apart a large piece of warm pita. Justin got up and headed to the small bar. She hadn't noticed the open wine bottle before. He poured two glasses and settled back down on the floor next to her while she stayed perched on the couch.

  "What kind of wine is this?" Danielle took a sip and savored the rich, full flavors.

  "Generally, with a lamb tagine, one would serve Languedoc reds or a younger Riojas, perhaps a Cotes du Roussillon, but since we are in Australia, I paired it with an Australian Shiraz. The vintner is an upstart, but the outstanding flavors they are producing—especially considering the sandy soil and climate—make it a new favorite of mine." He nodded at her plate as he picked up another. "Eat." He didn’t need to tell her a third time.

  Danielle reclined against the back of the couch, full, and on her second glass of wine. The meal was good, but the company was exquisite. The conversation flitted from work to world news, to Australia and the climate compared to the cold New York winter. A companionable silence settled over them. Whether content from the food, wine or company, she found herself watching everything Justin did tonight. It was a liberty she wouldn't have taken a week ago.

  Justin poured himself a portion of wine after he offered her more. She declined by putting her hand over the top of the stemmed crystal. As it was, two glasses of wine and less than four hours of sleep in forty-eight had her on the verge of a coma. Three glasses? She probably wouldn't make it back to her bed. He swirled the wine he’d poured into his glass and inhaled the aroma. He then sampled it. Erotic. That was the only word she could think of as she watched his eyes close and his head tip back after he swallowed the sample. His hair brushed against the robe she wore as his head came to rest on the seat cushion next to her thigh. His hair lay a fraction of an inch from her fingertips. The desire to reach out and feel the dark, thick strands was tempting. So very tempting. Danielle moved her fingertips and feathered through his hair. His eyes opened slowly, hooded and heavy.