Hard Justice

by Lori Foster

  Iris pushed back to scowl into his face. “Well, of course she is. Look at you, son. You’re a catch. Any smart girl can see that.”

  He laughed. “It’s fair to say, you’re a little bit biased.”

  “A good son makes a good husband.”

  “Mom,” he warned. “Now you’re definitely getting ahead of yourself!”

  Tamping down some of her enthusiasm, she patted his chest. “I’m just saying, she’d be lucky to have you.”

  Justice figured she might have that wrong. Knowing his mother would see it differently, he paced away to the corner of the deck where a few screws were loose. “She’s wealthy.”

  Iris caught up to him. “What’s that?”

  “She and her family. They’re big bucks.” Only that didn’t really describe Fallon at all, so he added, “She’s really sweet, though, and down-to-earth.”

  “Seems to be,” Iris agreed. “And pretty, too.”

  “Yeah.” Justice worked his jaw, then gave up. “She was hurt once.”

  “Hurt?”

  Leave it to his mother to focus more on that than money. Caring for Fallon as he did now, it pained him to talk about it, so he gave her the quick version of the story.

  His mother didn’t need the nitty-gritty to understand the emotional damage. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. That poor, sweet girl.”

  “She’s touchy about the scars.”

  His mom leveled a look on him. “You made it clear that they don’t matter?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Because physically, they didn’t. “Little by little, she’s starting to believe me. But now she’s got this new confidence, and she wants to live a little.”

  “She can live a little with you.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, she has.” The smile waned. Fallon wanted to move out on her own. He’d rather ask her to move in with him, but he couldn’t steal anything from her. She deserved to have everything she wanted.

  “What?” his mom asked.

  Justice shook his head. There were some things he wasn’t yet ready to share. “You’re always my biggest cheerleader.”

  “It’s easy to cheer for a winner.”

  Damn, he loved her. His granny, too. They always had his back, always... His granny. “Oh, shit.”

  “Language,” Iris cautioned.

  “Sorry.” Already striding toward the house, Justice said, “Granny’s in there putting Fallon through a cross-examination right now, isn’t she?”

  “Probably.” Jogging to keep up with his long-legged gait, Iris laughed. “Slow down! Your Fallon didn’t strike me as the type to let a little curiosity offend her.”

  “Granny’s curiosity is the equivalent of a runaway Mack truck.” He burst through the door, but ground to a halt when he found the two ladies sitting close together on the couch, looking through a photo album. Heat burned his face. “Damn it, Granny—”

  “Language,” his mom and Granny snapped at the same time.

  Eyes soft and smile wide, Fallon looked up at him. “You were so stinkin’ adorable.”

  Justice hated to look but couldn’t seem to stop himself. He peered over her shoulder and saw the god-awful photo of him as a naked infant...sucking his thumb.

  Fallon touched the photo, as if she touched the baby him.

  “He was a big newborn,” his mom said, crowding onto the couch on Fallon’s other side. “And he was always a sweet baby.”

  Seeing that the women would be occupied for a while—which, okay, kept Fallon from looking at apartments, so ultimately worked in his favor—he grumbled, “I’m going to go over the house and see what other repairs are needed. Might even go get some supplies since I’m already here.”

  No one replied. They were too busy turning pages in the album.

  * * *

  MARCUS WALKED INTO the office where Kern and York waited on him. Smiling at the brothers, he said, “Sorry I’m late.”

  “You’re not,” Kern told him, extending his hand. “We were a few minutes early.”

  Right there on the tabletop rested the check written out for the full amount.

  “How’ve you been?” York asked. “Things going well with your lady?”

  For a moment, Marcus didn’t know what he meant. “Who?”

  “Ms. Wade. You win her over yet?”

  Bristling, Marcus took time to pour himself a drink. It was only three o’clock, but Kern and York already had drinks; no reason he shouldn’t join them. After taking a fortifying sip, Marcus pulled out his chair opposite the brothers. “Ms. Wade and I are friends.”

  “Ms. Wade?” York repeated. “You’re that formal with her still?”

  He’d been trying, obviously without success, to move away from an intimate topic. “Of course not. As I said, we’re friends.”

  Kern snorted. “Being friends is not what you want.”

  No, it wasn’t. However, by all appearances, he had lost his opportunity. Fallon might not believe it, but what he wanted most was for her to be happy.

  Damn it all, she appeared to be very happy with the bodyguard.

  York hit the tabletop. “What the hell, man? Where are your balls? You’ve given up, and I would have put odds on you.”

  Yes, he likely would have. God knew the brothers loved a bet. Well, let them deal with a little reality.

  Studiously avoiding looking at the check, Marcus sat back in his seat. “Actually, I haven’t seen Fallon in a while. Mrs. Rothschild Wade arranged the fund-raising meetings away from the home.” He didn’t mention that Mr. Wade had also told him to stay away.

  “So?” Kern barked. “Her daughter hasn’t been around her house much anyway.”

  Marcus went still. How would Kern know that? A dozen concerns tripped through his brain before he found the composure to hide his surprise and distrust. Trying for a note of mere curiosity, he murmured, “Oh?” as if he wasn’t all that interested in the answer.

  He even opened the folder to the paperwork that would finalize their donation.

  York cast a worried look at Kern, then pasted on a smile. “I told my brother that I’d seen her out and about with the bodyguard. Quite a few times, in fact. It appears he, at least, is on game.”

  “Meaning?” Marcus stared at the papers as if searching for a necessary notation, when in reality, the text blurred together as the ramifications of anyone spying on Fallon slowly sank in.

  “Meaning he’s beating you, man.” Kern pushed back his chair and stood. “I thought that nice donation would give you a fighting chance, but you haven’t even tried to use it to your advantage.”

  Ah, and since he hadn’t produced the results they wanted, Kern now might pull the donation? Not if I can help it. Collecting his thoughts, Marcus tapped his fingertips together. “It still could help. Once it’s presented, there’s no way Fallon won’t notice.” Because he would tell her—about the donation and about his concern. “I’m flattered that you’re both taking such an interest in my personal life, but is there a reason why?” Pretending amusement, he half smiled. “Perhaps a bet as to who wins the girl?”

  Kern looked struck, then turned to York. “Hell of an idea.”

  Great, so he’d just encouraged them. Yet, Marcus knew that wasn’t the only bet.

  “One at a time,” York said with some sly meaning.

  Interrupting their debate on the odds, he asked, “Why, specifically, does it matter to either of you?”

  They held silent, but not for long. The brothers were too cocky, too arrogant concerning their own wealth and influence, to understand his suspicions. They considered themselves beyond the reach of social boundaries. “The bodyguard keeps dodging Tomahawk.”

  Marcus gave a short laugh. “I seriously doubt that he dodges anyone. If he doesn’t take the fight, it’s because h
e has no interest in it.”

  Wearing his most charming grin, York added, “Do your part and we’ll figure out the rest.”

  “The rest of what?”

  Pushing the check toward Marcus, Kern added, “But do it soon.” His smile looked like a threat. “Honest to God, I don’t give a shit about literacy.” He stormed out, his laughing brother behind him.

  That check began to look like a bribe, and finally, Marcus knew what he had to do.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  INSTEAD OF LOOKING at apartments as she’d intended, Fallon ended up visiting with Justice’s mother and grandmother nearly every day.

  The women were absolutely delightful, very different from her relatives...and oh-so-similar to Justice, like tinier, female versions of his humor, warmth, caring and integrity.

  Never, not once, had Fallon ever doubted the love of her parents. In a million ways, they’d shown her the depth of their feelings for her. Their love was quiet and fierce, an unwavering comfort.

  For Justice’s family, the love was bold and in your face, hilariously demonstrative and heart-meltingly unashamed.

  From the start, they included her in those tight hugs, outrageous jokes and happy welcomes.

  During the times that Justice did routine repairs to Iris’s property, Fallon learned to make bean soup and braid a rug. She got a tour of Justice’s old room, saw his many sporting trophies, heard stories of past girlfriends and watched all the DVDs of his fight career.

  In some ways, she felt like an insider with the women, especially when they ganged up to tease Justice.

  “Eugene” never seemed to mind, though. In fact, he would smile in an indulgent way, as if pleased to see them growing closer.

  On the eighth day after her parents left, Fallon and Justice were finally going to check out the only apartment that was still available. Later they’d take his mother and grandmother out to dinner and she already looked forward to it. She wanted to go by her house first to get a change of clothes, and when they were five minutes away, she got a call.

  She pulled out her cell, glanced at the screen and saw it was Marcus.

  Justice said, “Ignore it.”

  He’d been in a sullen mood ever since she’d insisted on seeing the apartment. It wasn’t as if she wanted to give up staying with him. Now that he’d involved her in his life and his family, losing either would be like losing a piece of her heart.

  But it wouldn’t be fair to him. Being her bodyguard had pulled him into her problems, and now she feared he was as overprotective as her parents. She couldn’t burden him.

  He needed choices. He needed to know that she’d be fine on her own. If their relationship grew after that, then and only then could she entirely trust in his feelings, accepting them for what she wanted them to be rather than what they might be—worry, or worse, sympathy.

  “Of course I have to answer,” she said, and put the phone to her ear. He needed to understand that Marcus was not a threat. “Hello, Marcus.”

  “Fallon. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  She watched Justice’s profile. “There’s no reason that you would.”

  Genuine sadness came through his reply. “I’d like to think we’re still friends.”

  He’d humiliated her so badly that, before Justice, seeing Marcus only reinforced her insecurity. Now, however, she felt more than capable of being around him without a single twinge. “Of course we are.”

  “I’m sorry, Fallon. You don’t know how many times I’ve regretted my reaction—”

  Unwilling to rehash what had been a most mortifying situation for them both, she cut him off. “I’m over it, Marcus, I promise.” Just as quickly, she asked, “Is there a reason for your call?”

  She heard his sigh before he said, “Yes. I need to see you. And no, it’s not to rekindle anything. There’s something you need to know.”

  What could Marcus possibly have to tell her? Whatever it was, she didn’t care. “Just tell me now.”

  He suddenly growled, “Is your bodyguard with you?”

  She looked again at Justice. “Yes.”

  “I assumed,” he said with resigned annoyance. “Let me speak with him, please.”

  Fallon didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  “Why do you want to talk to Justice?”

  Brows shooting up, Justice glanced at her.

  “It’s important. Since he’s with you and I’m not, I’m sure he can explain better than me.”

  Annoyance rising, Fallon scowled. “I’d prefer that you explain.”

  Justice held out his hand. “Give over, Fallon.”

  “No.” Then to Marcus, she demanded, “Tell me right now or I’ll hang up.”

  “If you do, I’ll just have to call the agency where he works and hunt him down that way. And honestly, Fallon, that might take too long. Now please, put him on.”

  Marcus said nothing else, damn him. She didn’t know what to do.

  Wiggling his fingers, Justice asked, “Do you trust the putz or not?”

  “Fine.” Fallon put the phone on speaker and then slapped it into his hand, unwilling to mask her irritation with manners.

  “Marcus,” Justice said with malicious humor. “How’s it shaking?”

  “Rather than be harassed, I’ll get right to it.”

  “Yeah, why don’t you?”

  “We need to get together to talk, and before you turn obnoxious again, you should know, I think it’s possible that Fallon is in danger.”

  Justice glanced at her, frowned, and said, “Yeah, let’s meet.”

  “No,” Fallon insisted, wanting to ensure that they both heard her loud and clear. “This concerns me and I want to know what’s going on. Right now, Marcus.”

  After a heavy pause, Marcus muttered, “You didn’t tell me I was on speaker.”

  Justice shrugged. “Didn’t know you’d have anything worthwhile to say.”

  “This is difficult to explain, especially over the phone. I’m free now if we can meet.”

  “All of us,” Fallon said.

  “Of course.”

  They agreed to meet at her parents’ house, in the driveway near the road.

  Justice didn’t want him any closer than that and Fallon didn’t care enough to debate it.

  For the rest of the short drive, her thoughts whirled. What could Marcus possibly know about a threat?

  Justice reached over and squeezed her knee. “You know I won’t let anyone hurt you, right?”

  Snorting, she said, “No one is trying to. Marcus is up to something. It’s ridiculous.”

  “I thought you trusted him.”

  Why did Justice have to decide now to defend her ex? “It infuriates me that he would attempt to bypass me to talk to you.”

  Justice pulled into the driveway, drove all the way up to the house, turned around, then went back to the entrance, now facing the street. “I think he’s trying to be considerate.”

  She gaped at him.

  “He could be really concerned about something and doesn’t want to alarm you.”

  “I am a grown woman!”

  He grinned. “I know. So we’ll talk to him together and find out what’s what. Okay? Just don’t run him off until I’ve finished asking questions.”

  Fallon didn’t point out that it was usually Justice who sent Marcus packing. “If this last apartment is gone before we get there—”

  Rather than listen to her grumble, Justice got out of the car and leaned against the front bumper, his arms crossed. That made her grumble even more, especially since she assumed her mention of the apartment was what had him looking cross.

  She joined him, her hands on her hips and her good mood deteriorating. How could she get Justice to see her
as a completely independent woman with no need of a bodyguard if Marcus planned to introduce some trumped-up danger?

  Even now, feeling irked, Fallon couldn’t help but notice how impressive Justice looked with his biceps bulging and a light breeze blowing his T-shirt flat against his abs.

  “Stop it,” she snapped, giving him a light shove.

  Startled, he dropped his arms and scowled at her. “Stop what?”

  “Posturing,” she accused. “Looking all macho and disgruntled. You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you? Know what I call that, Justice?”

  Cautiously, his frown fierce, he asked, “What?”

  “Pouting.”

  “Pouting!” He straightened to his impressive height to stare down at her. “I do not pout.” He stepped closer. “Actually, I was contemplating things.”

  “What things?”

  “If Marcus is right and there is a problem, you can’t be alone in an apartment.”

  Fallon threw up her hands. She’d known his thoughts would take that path and it infuriated her. “How come every single time I try to prove that I’m the same as other women, something stupid comes up?”

  “For one thing, you’re not like other women.” He cooled her anger by saying, “You’re a damned heiress or something. No idea what kind of money your family has, but any idiot can see that you’re loaded. That makes you a target.”

  He had a slight point. “Justice—”

  “And whether you want to accept it or not, someone is up to something.” He stepped closer still, until she had to tip her head way back to maintain eye contact. “Remember the red paint? My trampled flowers?”

  “I don’t have a faulty memory and it wasn’t that long ago.”

  “Well, smart-ass, that’s a problem. Sure, we could write it off as vandalism, except that you were pushed down stairs.”

  She tried not to waver under his conviction. Honestly, she didn’t want to believe that someone planned to harm her. She’d never hurt anyone—except her sister. “Damn.” Now was not the time to get maudlin. “I could have just stumbled.”

  Justice tipped up her chin. “Stop dodging reality. Let me do what I do, okay?” He bent to brush his mouth over hers. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”