Hard Justice

by Lori Foster

  She wanted to say that nothing would, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. Justice’s concern was affecting her. Could I really have an enemy? The idea chilled her.

  They both looked up at the sound of Marcus’s Mercedes pulling into the drive. He parked to the side of Justice’s car and, without pause, got out to stride toward them.

  The breeze, growing stronger, played with his blond hair and blew his tie to the side. He looked trim, stylish and, she could admit, handsome. His toned physique showed the designer suit to best advantage.

  It didn’t matter. Next to Justice, he seemed completely insubstantial.

  Marcus took one look at Fallon and his brows went up while his jaw slackened.

  She shifted uneasily under his stare. Yes, little by little she’d changed her look. Today she wore a casual spring dress, yellow with splashes of floral that complemented her figure. Rather than conceal, the fit of the dress showed off her bust. The scooped neckline was high enough to hide her scars, but showed much more skin than usual, even a hint of cleavage. A sash belt was tied at her waist and the full skirt skimmed just above her knees. She’d finished the outfit with strappy sandals and a yellow cardigan.

  “Fallon,” Marcus murmured, and it sounded like a verbal caress.

  Justice put his arm around her shoulders and drew her into his side. “Keep it up,” he warned, “and I’m going to flatten you.”

  Drawn back to reality, Marcus blinked. “You look so different. Nice, I mean. Very nice.”

  Justice growled.

  Ignoring him, Marcus said softly, “I just... You took me by surprise. It’s as if you’ve bloomed.”

  Flushing, Fallon nodded. “Justice and I have plans, so if you wouldn’t mind.?” She loved it when Justice looked at her with so much appreciation. From Marcus, it left her cold.

  He looked momentarily wounded, then shifted his gaze to Justice. “I wanted to speak in person. The entire thing is awkward, maybe even far-fetched, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Tell us what it is,” Fallon insisted, and she got a squeeze from Justice. Right, he wanted her to let him do the questioning. She leaned into him, which was as much approval as he’d get.

  “I think it’s best if we keep this between us. You’ll understand why—I hope—when I’ve finished.” Marcus looked at each of them, then settled on Fallon. “You remember the men I had with me at the MMA competition?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “A little.”

  “I remember them,” Justice said.

  “I believe I explained to you then that Kern and York Arnold are very wealthy men and they enjoy spending their money in outrageous ways.”

  It came back to Fallon in a rush. “You said they even bet with women as the prizes.”

  “Willing women,” Marcus made clear. “But yes, it’s as if they try to outdo each other in their extreme gambles.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his gaze on the ground. “Frankly, I’ve seen shocking behavior from both of them.”

  “They spoke with Tomahawk at the event,” Justice said. “He knows them?”

  His gaze shooting up to meet Justice’s, Marcus frowned. “I don’t know. Or rather, I’m not sure how well he knows them.” He paced away, turned back. “They gave me an astounding amount for the literacy fund-raiser. Their one check equals the total we had hoped to gather in donations.”

  Fallon didn’t understand. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  Justice took a step forward, his posture and tone hard. “Not if they’re trying to buy him.”

  Marcus surprised them both by nodding. “My concern exactly.”

  Tucking her slightly behind him, Justice said, “So what is it they want you to do, and what does it have to do with Fallon?”

  Looking past Justice, Marcus locked his gaze with hers. Softly, he said, “They want me to win you back.”

  * * *

  “LIKE HELL.” JUSTICE WASN’T about to let some wealthy dude in a fancy suit get in his way. Fallon was his and she’d damn well stay his. It didn’t matter that Marcus, Kern and York fit better into Fallon’s world. It didn’t even matter that he, himself, made good money, first as a fighter and now as a bodyguard. Fallon wasn’t a woman who cared about material wealth.

  She cares about me.

  He believed it, and soon she’d admit it—preferably before she plunked down first and last months’ rent for an apartment she wouldn’t be using.

  Having her around his mom and granny had been a stroke of genius. Fallon flourished under their easy acceptance and lack of formality. In no time at all she’d become a cozy part of the family.

  The problem was, she’d loosened up enough that other guys took more notice of her—Marcus included. That wouldn’t do. The sooner he got this settled and got her away from her ex, the more he’d like it.

  Jealousy was a bitch.

  “Just so I’m clear here,” Justice said in what he hoped was a mild tone, “you have about thirty seconds to get the point.”

  “I’m trying, but it’s not easy. Most of my concern is just a feeling.”

  “Gut instinct,” Justice said, willing to give him his due. “Never ignore it.”

  Nodding, he glanced at Fallon, but seemed to find it easier to speak directly to Justice. “The brothers were in my office today and they were more than curious as to whether or not Fallon and I were back together.”

  Justice’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “I hope you set them straight.”

  “In fact, I did. I explained that we were only friends now.” Lower, he said, “I’ve never liked to hear them say her name or speak of her.”

  Fallon asked, “Why would they talk about me?”

  “That’s just it, I didn’t know. They tried to be subtle about it playing it off like male camaraderie or something, but no matter what they said, it felt disrespectful.” He drew in a breath. “Believe it or not, Fallon, I care for you. Beyond that, I respect you a great deal and I don’t want anyone in any way to slander you.”

  Muscles tensing, Justice asked through his teeth, “Exactly what did they say?”

  “Nothing specific, definitely not any direct insults. It’s that they’re—” he searched for the words “—irreverent. Spoiled. Obnoxious. Selfish.” He glanced at Fallon. “All things I would never associate with you. It doesn’t matter what money they have or how much power that money brings them. They aren’t good enough to joke about you as if you’re just another woman, a woman they would know or would use in a bet.”

  Justice didn’t like the small understanding nod Fallon gave Marcus. “Why the hell didn’t you shut them up?”

  “I’m a businessman,” he snapped. “I can’t go around alienating every person who’s a jerk. Because of my position, I’m forced to use diplomacy.”

  “We understand.” Fallon tipped her head. “But I still don’t hear a threat.”

  Hands on his hips, head dropped forward, Marcus muttered, “They know the two of you are dating.”

  “So?” Justice said. “We haven’t made it a secret.”

  “Justice.” Fallon touched his arm, and the quietness in her tone alarmed him. “They don’t travel in the same circles. Seeing them at the fights, that was a fluke. Since then, we’ve been to low-key places, or at your mother’s. If these men know we’re dating, someone is telling them.”

  “Or they’ve been spying on you.” Marcus lifted his head. “They know she’s been staying with you, that she hasn’t been home.” Quietly, Marcus repeated everything that had been said.

  Gut instinct. Justice felt it now and he wanted to whisk Fallon away from any possible harm. First, though, he had to uncover the source of the danger.

  Doing his best to stay clearheaded and keep the rage at bay, he asked, “Any ideas?”

  Marcus gave
a brief shake of head. “I don’t know anything for sure, but I suspect they have a wager on a fight.”

  “They want to see a rematch with Tom and me.” Grim, Justice cursed low, his hands curling into fists. “I still don’t see how Fallon plays into this, or why they’d be keeping tabs on her. Is Tom somehow in on it?”

  “I don’t know that,” Marcus said quickly. “But an idea occurred to me for how we could find out.”

  Justice stiffened. “No.”

  “What?” Fallon asked, looking from one of them to the other.

  “No,” he said again.

  “Tell me,” Fallon insisted.

  Marcus folded his arms over his chest and stared at Justice. “We need to pretend to give them what they want.”

  * * *

  MILES SAT AT a booth in Rowdy’s bar, slowly nursing a beer. At another table with a few other fighters, Tom brooded. He didn’t join in on the jokes and he wasn’t drinking as much.

  Suspicions sucked. He liked Tom all right, but he trusted Justice more. Leese felt the same. If Justice had reason to doubt Tom, that was good enough for them.

  A slim, familiar figure wearing designer jeans and a body-hugging top walked through the front door of the bar. Maxi Nevar’s dark blond hair trailed down her back, and her brown eyes searched the crowd.

  For him.

  Miles waited, deciding if he felt like giving in to Maxi tonight. He had twice before and both times the sex had been...well, incredible. Mind-blowing, even.

  The lady wasn’t shy, and she knew what she wanted.

  Her gaze met his and she smiled, proving that tonight, again, she wanted him.

  As she made her way toward him, Miles finished off his beer. He couldn’t say what it was about Maxi that made him want to stay detached. Possibly her own detachment. She enjoyed sex with him, but wanted nothing else.

  Other men in the bar tracked her progress as she maneuvered her way across the floor. He should just be flattered, but God, he’d suffered from a weird mood lately.

  When she finally reached him, she asked, “Alone tonight?” as if it didn’t matter all that much, as if, if he had a date, she’d be okay with it and would just mosey on.

  “I’m alone,” he said. “But sort of working.” His gaze skipped over to Tomahawk. Miles watched him smile at something someone said, then turn distracted again.

  “Working on getting drunk?” Maxi asked with a laugh as she settled her sexy behind across from him in the booth.

  “Only one beer,” he said, then resented that he’d explained. He never got drunk, but since they only had a very limited relationship—which was exactly how he wanted it—she didn’t need to know his habits.

  “Just a cola for me,” she said to the waitress who stopped by their booth.

  “Another for me,” Miles added, handing over the empty bottle.

  Maxi tipped her head, causing that dark golden hair to cascade over her breast. “Would you rather be alone tonight?”

  Not really. “Just weighing my options.”

  To his consternation, she laughed. “Another woman has caught your eye? Should I vacate the booth before she gets the wrong impression?”

  Sitting back, he stared at her. It wasn’t natural, damn it. “What’s the lure, Maxi? That I’m a fighter?” Because he might not be for much longer.

  “That’s a joke, right? The first night I came in here, I noticed you right off. When I hit on you, I had no idea what you did—and I don’t care.”

  “So if I decide to take up waiting tables?”

  “I assume you’d still have an occasional night off and I’d see you here, right?”

  For a booty call. Frowning, more at himself than her, Miles said, “I don’t know.”

  For only a heartbeat, her dark eyes looked troubled, then she quickly brightened again. “Well, that would be a waste, but I’m sure I’d survive.”

  No, he hadn’t imagined it. He’d seen something, maybe worry? “Actually, I’m thinking about being a bodyguard.” Why the hell did I just tell her that? He waited, wondering how she’d react.

  “To protect someone specific?” She crossed her arms on the tabletop and leaned forward enough that he could see her cleavage.

  Maxi had a nice pair on her, full and soft with sensitive mauve nipples. Once, she’d damn near come from him sucking on her. He stirred remembering it.

  But then, the second she’d walked in, his temperature had spiked.

  Without giving him a chance to answer, she added, “Not being nosy, but if you’re involved, then I’ll definitely move on.”

  Knowing she would, Miles shook his head. “I meant as a career choice.”

  “Sounds exciting—and I go back to my original question. You’d have the occasional night off?”

  The server brought their drinks, giving him a moment to think and time to check on Tom. He saw a woman leaning over Tom, whispering in his ear. Good, he thought. Go home with her so I can quit watching you.

  To Miles’s surprise, Tom kissed her palm, whispered something back to her and sent her away. The others at his table heckled him, but Tom only shook his head.

  What the hell was going on?

  A small, warm hand covered his, drawing Miles back from his curiosity. He met Maxi’s dark eyes, already heavy with interest. While they looked at each other, she toyed with him, trailing her fingertips down the seam between two of his.

  “So,” she whispered. “Are you going to be free for a few hours tonight or not?”

  A few hours. Nothing more. She wouldn’t ask him why he planned to leave fighting, or why he was sulking over his beers. She never pried. Never asked anything personal.

  She just enjoyed his body for a few hours, the orgasms he’d give her, and then she’d leave his house and he wouldn’t even know if he’d see her again or not.

  “Depends,” Miles said, watching her. “Your place tonight?”

  Her smile never slipped. “No.”

  “I’m starting to wonder if you’re a serial killer. Maybe an escaped convict? Do you have a husband and kids at home?”

  Slowly, she sat back, her smile gone. She stared at her drink. She seemed somehow...hurt.

  “Maxi—”

  “I’m not married. No kids. I don’t like cheaters.”

  Well, that was something at least.

  “I’ve never broken a law in my life. Not even the speed limit.”

  “A paragon of virtue, huh?”

  “Hardly that, but I’m a coward.” Her dark gaze met his. “Much too much of a coward to ever be a serial killer.”

  Pushing her, Miles asked, “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a personal shopper.”

  Huh. That fit, given her great style. “One more question.”

  “I won’t be grilled. You’re either into it or you’re not.”

  “It” being meaningless sex. And since when has that been a problem for you? “Why me?”

  Her arched brows twitched. “That’s it? That’s your question?”

  “Yeah.”

  The smile returned and she leaned forward again. “Let’s go to your place, get naked and I’ll show you.”

  Maybe his dissatisfaction was because the guys were all starting to settle down. Gage, Cannon, Denver, Stack, Armie and Leese. Now even Justice appeared hooked. Like dominoes, once the first one fell, the rest tumbled. But here he was, feeling...fuck it. He felt a little lost, and admitting that, even to himself, burned his ass big-time.

  “I told you, I’m working.”

  She bit her lip and, resigned, sat back again. Miles watched her play with her purse strap, tuck her hair behind her ears, look out at the bar and at the front door where she’d entered.

  “What are you thinking, Maxi?�
� It struck him and he asked, “Your name is Maxi, right?” How far would she go to stay an enigma?

  “Yes, that’s my name. Short for Maximara.” After a few seconds, she looked up at him again. “May I ask you something? Nothing personal, I promise.”

  Miles laughed. “I don’t mind if you ask anything personal.” Of course, he knew why she didn’t. If she asked something personal, he might reciprocate. For whatever reason, she didn’t want him getting too close.

  “Are you really that busy tonight, or have you lost interest?” She rushed on, “If you have, you can just tell me. I’m not a stalker type. I won’t bother you.”

  His gaze moved to her mouth, and he thought of the incredible things she did with it. “See the big guy two tables over? Heavyweight fighter?”

  She glanced around. “I can’t really tell weight classes—oh.” Turning back to him and leaning forward, she asked, “What about him?”

  “I have a friend who works for the Body Armor Agency. That’s the bodyguard gig I’m thinking about taking. Well, my friend needs me to keep an eye on the big lug over there, so that’s what I’m doing.”

  Accepting that, Maxi considered things, then asked, “For how long?”

  “Until he leaves here.”

  “So you could be really late.”

  Gently, he asked, “Got somewhere you need to be?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “So stay. Keep me company. Tell me where you got that name and what a personal shopper does. When it’s time to go, you can follow me to my place.”

  Over the next half hour, between flirting, teasing and laughing, Miles managed to pry a little info from her. As a near stranger, she’d been hot.

  Seeing her like this, less “on the make” and more relaxed, only gave her more substance. When Tom got a call and stepped toward the front door, away from the din of conversation, to talk, Miles said, “I’ll be right back,” and followed him.

  People entered and exited the bar, so Tom paid no attention when Miles moved to stand behind him, close enough to overhear.

  “Right now?” Tom asked, looking out at the passing traffic, oblivious to everything else. “Yeah, I mean sure. I can make it.” He nodded, repeating the name of a ritzy neighborhood as if to memorize it. “I’m familiar, yeah. I’ll leave now, but that’s across town, so give me a little time.” He nodded again. “Thanks, Kern. See you soon.” He disconnected and turned so fast, he damn near plowed into Miles.