Hard Justice

by Lori Foster

  “Wow. I had no idea.” She folded her arms on the tabletop. “That’s so exciting.”

  “Not if you’re fighting. Let me tell you, the packing and travel and promo is a hassle. Then you have to adjust to the time zone and sometimes the altitude. It’s not like you get much opportunity to be a tourist.”

  “I can’t imagine all that running and prep and then having to perform. But I’m impressed.”

  Sheepish, Justice shook his head. “Don’t be. I won in Japan, but not in South Korea or Brazil. Not that I got creamed or anything,” he rushed to assure her. “Got bonus bucks for ‘fight of the night’ in Brazil. It was a real brawl, but I lost two of the three rounds.”

  “I would love to see a live fight sometime.”

  He was about to tell her it’d be too risky when Cannon spoke beside them. “You’re in luck. Stack Hannigan is fighting next weekend and it’s local. Have Justice bring you.”

  While Fallon stared up in awe at Cannon, Justice tried to signal him by slashing a finger across his neck.

  Cannon ignored him. “Introduce me, Justice.”

  Armie strolled up next to him. “Yeah, introduce us.”

  “Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” Justice mumbled. Did they think she was a date? “I was going to bring her to the pool room for introductions after we ate.”

  Showing up with the food, Avery bumped Cannon and Armie out of her way with her hip. She set the plates and drinks off her tray, then asked, “Anything else?”

  “It smells perfect,” Fallon gushed. “Thank you.”

  Armie said to Avery, “You sure you don’t want me to lend a hand?”

  “You’re sweet,” Avery said, “but Crissy just showed up. We’re covered.”

  As soon as Avery got out of the way, Cannon and Armie muscled their way in. Cannon made Fallon scoot over and Armie would have sat on Justice’s lap if he hadn’t moved quick enough.

  Deadpan, Justice asked, “Why don’t you guys join us?”

  They ignored his dry tone.

  “Think I will,” Armie said, stealing one of his fries. To Fallon he said, “I’m Armie. That’s Cannon.”

  She looked...mesmerized, her eyes wide, watchful. “You’re both fighters?”

  Armie grinned. “Good guess.”

  “Oh, no. You both look as muscular as Justice.”

  Cannon grinned now, too. “And you are?”

  She poked out a hand. “Fallon Wade.”

  While Cannon’s hand completely swallowed hers, Armie said, “Nice, Eugene. She’s a step up.”

  With surprise, Fallon turned to Justice. “Eugene?”

  Cannon leaned near, saying in a loud stage whisper behind his hand, “That’s his real name.”

  Giving Armie a shove that almost put him out of the booth, Justice growled, “You’re both assholes, you know that, right?”

  Chuckling, Armie righted himself. “Avery just said I was sweet.”

  “She has to be nice to you because you’re a customer.”

  “Ah, c’mon, Eugene,” Armie replied. “Don’t be pissy.”

  “No one,” Justice stressed to Fallon, “calls me that.”

  Armie raised his hand. “Just us A-holes.” He slanted a look at Justice. “I, at least, know how to speak in front of a lady.”

  That was almost too hilarious, given Armie’s rep, which wasn’t all that distant yet. “Where are your wives? Rissy and Yvette would keep you in line.”

  “Rissy, Vanity and Cherry are visiting Yvette at our place,” Cannon said. “The wives insisted we show up here for Stack’s last weekend before the fight.”

  Justice explained to Fallon, “These two are new dads. Cannon has twins, a boy and a girl, and Armie has a daughter. Usually you can’t pry them away from the babies.”

  “Look who’s talking!” Cannon pointed at Justice. “This one does the whole baby-talk thing. It’s hilarious.”

  “And nauseating,” Armie chimed in. Then he shrugged. “But the babies adore him.”

  Justice grinned. “True enough. I’m one of their favorite people.”

  “There’s only four months between our kids’ ages.” Cannon smiled with pride. “They’ll grow up close.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Justice and Fallon ate while the men told stories.

  Like a spectator at a tennis match, Fallon’s head bobbed back and forth as she alternately listened to each man gush affectionately. It still amused Justice that the two of them were so affected by their kids. If one of the babies gurgled, they were on it. Drool didn’t faze them and they changed diapers like a couple of champions, which they were.

  Other than during training, or occasionally at Rowdy’s, if you saw one of the men, you saw a baby.

  Justice finally interrupted to say, “You get the feeling they’re proud papas?”

  Smiling, Fallon nodded. “Very. And I think it’s lovely.”

  “So I’m sweet and lovely,” Armie said. “I can’t wait to tell Stretch.”

  “My sister will strangle you for calling her that,” Cannon reminded Armie. Then to Fallon, he said, “She’s almost as tall as me.”

  “But a lot prettier,” Armie added, his eyebrows bobbing.

  Justice noticed that Fallon had eaten at least half of the enormous burger and a good share of fries before she pushed back her plate and patted her mouth with the paper napkin.

  “Dessert?” he asked her.

  She lifted the shake. “This counts.” Leaning in, she asked, “So, do you think we could see your friend’s fight next weekend?”

  Not a good idea. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “It’s going to be crowded.”

  One brow lifted, Cannon sat back and watched him.

  Armie slanted him a look of curiosity.

  “I’ll cover my own ticket,” she promised. “That is, if tickets are still available.”

  “Not for any good seats.”

  Cannon and Armie waited to pounce; Justice knew that and tried to think of a way to deter them from interfering, but he came up blank. Wasn’t like he could explain that Fallon was only an assignment—and he was already too close.

  Finally, Cannon said, “I have tickets. Brand and Miles, friends you can meet in a minute, would be happy to—”

  Justice growled, “If she goes, she goes with me.”

  Fallon’s face went pink and she cleared her throat. “It’s all ridiculous, but Justice is my bodyguard.”

  Groaning, Justice stared up at the ceiling. He could feel the guys eyeballing him, the bastards.

  “Why’s it ridiculous?” Armie asked.

  “Because there’s no threat against me. It’s just that my parents anticipate a boogeyman around every corner.”

  “We were followed,” Justice reminded her.

  Cannon said, “You were?”

  “Yeah.” And now that he remembered, he realized that might be a good excuse to skip the fight at the arena. But before he could mention it, another voice intruded.

  “There you are, you chickenshit bastard.”

  Fallon turned with a start, Armie grumbled and Cannon briefly closed his eyes as if aggrieved.

  But Justice laughed as he extended his hand over the booth. “Look who crawled aboveground.” He and Tom exchanged a quick, knuckle-breaking hand grip, then Justice did the introductions. “Fallon, this is Tom Nelson, aka Tomahawk.”

  Tom gave her a quick once-over. “Tell your boyfriend to quit ducking me.”

  Armie said, “He beat you, Hawk,” shortening the man’s nickname. “Soundly, in fact. Bellyaching now is pointless. Move on.”

  “It was a lucky punch and you know it,” Tom countered.

  “You got caught,” Cannon said in that calm way of his. “That wasn’t luck, but good training.
”

  “Says the man who trained him.” Without losing his good mood, Tom stared down at Armie. “As to moving on...ain’t happening. Not until I get a rematch.”

  Justice ate another fry. “Told you, man, I retired. I’m out of the fight biz.”

  “Get back in,” Tom insisted. Then just to provoke him, he added, “If you can work up the nerve.”

  * * *

  AS FALLON WATCHED, the man pointed at Justice, grinned and sauntered away.

  “Fucking doofus,” Armie growled low.

  “So much for knowing how to speak in front of a lady,” Justice complained, sparing Fallon a glance.

  “It’s okay.” Fallon noticed that Justice didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the intruder as his friends were. “He’s the one you beat early in the fight?”

  Lifting his milk shake, Justice nodded. “None other.”

  “Tom doesn’t want to accept it,” Cannon explained to Fallon. “He tries to hide it with jokes, but he’s still smarting over getting tuned.”

  “He’s convinced he’d beat me if we fought again,” Justice said by way of justification.

  Armie gave a shove to Justice’s shoulder, almost making him spit out his shake. “If it ever happened, my money would be on you.”

  Scowling, Justice drew off the straw, finishing his drink.

  “People match up differently,” Cannon said to Fallon. “A guy who beats everyone else can meet that one guy who gets him every time. Tomahawk’s good, no doubt about it. But against Justice? I agree with Armie. Tom’s not slick enough to duck those massive fists of his.”

  Justice gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Guys, really, she’s not a date. You don’t have to try to soften her up for me.”

  “He’s so freaking humble, too,” Armie said with a roll of his eyes.

  “I can’t beat Cannon.”

  “And that’s your measuring stick?” Armie looked ready to shove Justice again. “Hell, man, there’s a reason Cannon’s a champion.”

  Wow. Fallon looked at the man next to her again. “Champion?”

  “Light heavyweight.”

  “That’s amazing.” She noticed that Cannon leaned toward quiet confidence. He struck her as serious and kind—odd for a guy as big and honed as him.

  Armie, on the other hand, was cocky to the extreme. She smiled at him. “What about you?”

  “He’s also a champion,” Justice answered before Armie could. “You’re in the presence of real talent.”

  “I don’t understand.” Finding this all very fascinating, Fallon twisted in her seat and propped her back against the wall. “Don’t you become champion by beating everyone else? How can there be two?”

  “Different weight classes.” Cannon was happy to explain. “Armie’s a middleweight.”

  “What are you?” she asked Justice.

  “I was a heavyweight.”

  That made sense. All the men were big, but Justice towered over them.

  “C’mon,” Justice said, rudely shouldering Armie out of the booth. “If you want to learn about fighting, we’ll join the others for a few games of pool and you can ask all the questions you want.”

  That sounded like an amazing idea to her.

  An hour later, Fallon decided this was the best night of her entire life.

  Fighters, she discovered, were hilarious and very friendly.

  After Cannon explained the rules of the game, Justice taught her how to hold the cue stick and how to shoot. That in itself made the night memorable; he’d aligned his big body behind hers, surrounded her as he reached around to help her place her hands, then spoken softly into her ear.

  She’d taken the shot awkwardly, almost scraping the felt on the tabletop. But no one teased her. The patient instruction continued until she got the hang of it—and once she did, she started sinking balls.

  Who knew she had the knack for judging how one ball would rebound off another?

  Armie declared her a natural, then immediately wagered five dollars.

  She won.

  Smiling with pride, Justice stood back, his shoulders braced on the wall, and encouraged her.

  Before this very night, Fallon hadn’t known she had a knack for shooting pool. Playful accusations of “pool shark” were called out after she’d won her third game.

  Twice Avery came in to collect empties and refill drink orders. Though Fallon did indulge in another beer, she only sipped at it, making it last.

  One, she decided, was her limit.

  When she took the money she’d won and gave it to Avery for an additional tip, everyone cheered her.

  Though she blushed, she loved it.

  As soon as she declared she was done shooting pool, Justice’s friend Miles whisked her away to dance.

  Justice protested, but the rest of the guys heckled him so badly, he finally subsided. While he allowed the dance, he clearly didn’t like it. Just as he’d done before, he kept her in his sights every second. The only difference now was that his friends paid no attention to his ruthless stares.

  In fact, they seemed to enjoy them.

  Grinning at her, Miles asked, “You sure you two don’t have anything personal going on? Justice is acting mighty territorial.”

  Fallon didn’t know Justice well enough to judge if that was true. She glanced at him, saw his concentrated expression, and wondered if he resented having to keep tabs on her.

  Well, if he did, too bad. This was her time out and she intended to enjoy it.

  “It’s his job to be alert, that’s all.”

  Miles smiled. “If you say so.”

  As they danced, more than a few ladies watched them. And why not? With his gentle green eyes, dark brown hair and crooked smiles, Miles was a real charmer, who’d instantly put her at ease. As a light heavyweight fighter, he was also as buff as the rest of them.

  “Why do they call you the Legend?”

  “My legendary sense of humor,” he replied with a wink.

  Fallon laughed. “I’m not buying that.”

  “Well, honey, the truth would make you blush.”

  Shoot, she blushed just from wondering what it could be!

  That made his grin widen. “Come on. Spill. You and Justice have a secret fling going on, right?”

  That he would think so flattered her. “I promise, we don’t. Justice takes his responsibilities very seriously, that’s all.”

  “Being a bodyguard, you mean?”

  “Yes.” Feeling Justice’s alert intensity, she glanced at him again. “He doesn’t yet understand that my parents are extreme about everything that concerns me. That doesn’t mean a bodyguard is actually necessary.”

  Miles was about to question her more when Brand cut in.

  Brand was another heavyweight. Not quite as tall as Justice, but just as broad in the shoulders. Though he smiled often, his dark eyes always looked a little distant, as if he held himself back.

  “Having fun?” he asked as they moved to a fast song.

  “Definitely.”

  “Did I hear that you’ll be joining us at the fight next weekend?”

  Because she doubted it, given Justice’s hesitation on the idea, she asked, “Us?”

  “We’ll all be there. Front section, good seats.” The music ended and everyone paused to wait for the next song. “The wives should be there, too. Have you met any of them yet?”

  They all seemed to assume...something, but Fallon wasn’t sure what. “This is my first time here, and it’s about an hour and a half from where I live. I’m not sure I’ll be around often enough to meet anyone else.”

  “That’s a bit of a drive just to have drinks.”

  “Justice preferred this bar to those more local.”

  “Yeah, I
just bet he did.” Brand laughed. “He figures he has a better handle on the competition here.”

  Fallon tried to deny that. She understood, even if they didn’t, that Justice wasn’t worried about competition.

  “Armie, Cannon, Stack, Denver and Gage are all married. When one of our own fights, we provide the cheering section.”

  It sounded amazing to Fallon. “I think Justice had other plans, so—”

  Stepping in, Tom said, “If he doesn’t agree, let me know and I’ll bring you along.” Then, as another song started, he said to Brand, “I’m cutting in.”

  This music was slower and Tom quickly caught her waist.

  It startled Fallon. “Oh, um...” She watched as Brand got pulled into a dance with another lady. Drat.

  “Something wrong?” Tom asked.

  Yes, as a matter of fact, his earlier insults to Justice still annoyed her. Justice might not have minded, but she did. Good manners, however, kept her polite. “No, of course not.”

  He cuddled her closer.

  She strained away.

  Pretending not to notice, Tom asked, “So I heard you say you don’t live nearby.”

  “I don’t, but I’m glad we made the trip. This is a terrific place.”

  “Agreed. Rowdy and Avery run a good business.” He turned a slow circle, and in the process brought her nearer. “I wasn’t here before, but they say it was a real foul dive before Rowdy bought it. He did a big reno, kicked out the drug dealers and put in the pool room.”

  Drug dealers? Fascinated, Fallon asked, “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. It’s cool now, though. All the fighters hang out here, along with most of the neighborhood.”

  “You live in the area?” she asked.

  “I’m staying here for a while to train. Fighters go to different camps to learn new techniques.” He gave a boyish grin and added, “If I can ever sweet-talk Justice into competing again, I want to be ready so I last more than a heartbeat.”

  Perhaps she’d been wrong about Tom. “You think he will?”

  “Fight again? I hope so.” He gave her a brief hug and bent to whisper in her ear, “I’m still stung over that knockout.”