by Lori Foster
“Tomahawk,” Miles said, after he’d backed him off a little.
“Damn, man, didn’t see you there.” Distracted and in a hurry, Tom shoved the phone back in his pocket. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just grabbing some air.” Feeling like a sleuth and liking it, Miles asked, “You?”
“Meeting with a few sponsors. Big spenders.” Smiling now instead of looking glum, Tom whacked him on the shoulder.
Miles stopped him from rushing off. “Sponsors for what? Got an upcoming fight?”
“If I can get Justice on board, yeah.”
“I don’t think that’s happening.”
“Hey, these guys can be persuasive. So don’t count me out yet.”
Miles watched him go inside to let his friends know he was leaving, then rush back out again. Once he’d driven down the road, Miles put in a call to Justice.
While the phone rang, he thought about life changes, and he thought about Maxi.
He’d made up his mind. Tonight would be a celebration, and he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with a woman who burned him up, kept him guessing and didn’t demand much in return.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE RESTAURANT WAS LOUD, the conversation at their table rowdy. Anytime Justice got his mom and granny out together, they had a great time. He didn’t like the way Fallon had withdrawn. When his mother noticed, Justice subtly shook his head, warning her not to mention it. Marcus had thrown a lot at Fallon today, not only the possible danger but also the way they’d most likely resolve it. She deserved time to think about it, and hopefully she’d come to the right conclusions.
Let me protect you.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her—something else his mother noticed. He saw Fallon smile as his granny described the way she’d taught him to dance. Many a night before dinner, they’d crank up the music and glide around the kitchen floor in their socks. Fallon obviously loved the story, but her smile didn’t quite sparkle in her eyes as it usually did.
When his cell rang Justice barely heard it, but he felt it buzzing in his pocket.
He glanced at the screen, saw it was Miles and pushed back his chair.
Feeling like something was about to break, Justice said to the table, “I have to take this,” and stepped to the entry.
Miles got right to the point. “I was hanging at Rowdy’s, keeping an eye on Tom as I promised. But a few minutes ago he got a call from someone named Kern and took off.”
“Shit,” Justice muttered, not wanting to believe Tom would be such a dick.
“He said it’s about a sponsorship—for a fight against you.”
Justice listened as Miles related the conversation. Like hell anyone would “convince” him. More like they meant to coerce him somehow, but that wouldn’t happen either.
“You said he left?”
“Going to meet the guy.”
Justice held the phone back to see the time. Nearing nine o’clock. Okay, not a crazy time for a meeting, but definitely not routine either. “Did he mention where?”
“Yeah, see that’s the thing.” Miles paused as if he dreaded sharing the rest. “Tom mentioned the same neighborhood where Fallon lives.”
“That’s too much coincidence for me.”
“Maybe,” Miles agreed. “But don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like?”
“Hit first and ask questions later. Be cool, okay? Just because he knows those dudes—”
“And is associating with them.” Maybe conspiring.
“—doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything. You’ve known Tom awhile. He deserves an opportunity to explain.”
Justice indulged a deep, cleansing breath. It helped, but not enough. “Right.” At the moment, the urge to destroy anyone who threatened Fallon burned hot. Unfortunately, he knew Miles had a point. “And pulverizing him won’t get me the answers I need.”
Moving past the idea of violence, Miles asked, “So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to call Leese. Then I’m going to do my own conspiring.”
* * *
SNICKERING, HE WATCHED from a safe distance away as Tom Nelson, aka Tomahawk, arrived at the destination. Like a sitting duck, Tom put his car in Park on the side of the road, ready and willing to wait.
As bait.
The big brute was far too gullible.
He had it all planned out, but several things had to align. Would Tom be patient enough? Given the prize, he’d wait as long as necessary.
Fortunately, only ten minutes passed before Justice Wallington’s car came into view. Anticipation sizzling, he crouched beside the tree, the lighter in his hand.
Before anyone had arrived, he’d poured a generous amount of diesel across the road, followed by a trail over to where he hid. Once everything happened, it’d be easy for him to sink deeper into the lush landscaping. As always, he’d get away without a scrape—but the two fighters wouldn’t be so lucky.
As a kid, he’d pulled this prank often. He’d found the panicked results of the startled drivers keenly satisfying.
With luck, the results this time would be even better.
As Justice’s car drew nearer, he flicked the lighter, saw the flame dance, and at just the right moment, he put it to the trail.
In the darkness of the night, the red and yellow flame licked quickly across the road, flaring up just as Justice reached it. He watched the fighter hit his brakes hard, swerving sideways until the car slewed partially off the road and came to a shuddering halt.
Gleeful at that reaction, he hunkered down out of sight, listening for the woman’s cries. Holding in his chuckles, he cocked an ear, waiting.
He heard only the hoot of an owl and the sound of the breeze playing with leaves overhead.
Nothing even remotely like female hysterics.
A second later the driver’s door shoved open and the fighter emerged, one very pissed-off man.
In that brief moment while the overhead light glowed, he saw inside the car and knew the fighter was alone. Where was Ms. Wade? Her fear would have added nicely to this confrontation.
It didn’t matter, he convinced himself. The results would be the same.
Predictably, Tom, who had parked only a short distance away, came jogging closer to help.
Fists would be flying in no time—he was sure of it.
As he faded back, he waited for the fun to begin.
* * *
JUSTICE STARED AT the slowly dying flame. What the hell?
Diesel, he thought, given the scent. He scoured the area, but the ritzy houses on this stretch of road sat acres apart from one another. Thick trees and high, manicured hedges lined the road to offer privacy.
Thinking he heard something in the woods beyond, Justice’s eyes narrowed. He saw a shadow move and took a step in that direction.
“Justice?”
He jerked around at the shout and—surprise, surprise—found Tom jogging toward him.
Bewildered, looking at the flames, Tom asked, “What happened, man?”
Refusing to blow it by being too calm, or too enraged, Justice locked his hands down at his sides. “What are you doing out here, Tom?”
“Had a meeting, but the guy’s late.” He glanced at the car, still idling, with the ass-end over the shoulder of the road, almost in the gully. “You hurt?”
“No.” Justice thanked God he didn’t have Fallon with him. She, along with his mother and granny, were on their way home with Leese. Hitching his chin, Justice asked with lethal menace, “Who has a meeting here, on a dark road, at this time of night?”
Brows coming down, Tom stared at him. “Is this another accusation?”
“You’re quick today, huh?”
Tom bristled. “I let you get away with that once, man. I won’t take it kindly a second time.”
“Take it any fucking way you want.” Justice pointed at him. “Twice now shit has happened, and both times you’re on the scene.”
For a second, Tom looked like he might lunge for him.
Justice was counting on him wanting the sanctioned fight in the cage, not a street brawl.
At the last second, Tom visibly gathered himself and glanced around the area instead.
They stood to the side of Justice’s car. The headlights cut across the road and into a line of thick shrubbery and pruned trees.
Rubbing the back of his head, Tom asked, “Did I see fire in the road?”
Aware of possibilities, Justice replied, “You did. A line of diesel, deliberately set.”
Tom’s gaze shot up. “Someone wanted you to wreck?”
“And here you are,” Justice smirked.
Tom inhaled. “Yeah, okay, I admit, it looks bad.” He glanced back at the car. “Fallon’s not with you?”
“No.”
“Small blessing, I guess.”
He eyed Tom, surprised that he was staying so composed. That in itself made his cynicism grow. “What meeting?” Wondering if Tom would tell the truth, Justice asked, “Who’s late?”
“Rich dude named Kern Arnold. He was at Stack’s last fight...” Tom paused, then gave a rough laugh. “This won’t exactly exonerate me, but Kern and his brother want to sponsor me—that is, if I can convince you to give me a rematch.”
There’d be no rematch, but all he said was, “Sponsor you how?”
“Lots of bucks. Full ride.” He stared at Justice. “They’re big fans.”
Did some lackey set the fire for Kern? Or was the bastard sick enough to want to see the reaction himself? Was it possible that even now, he lurked there in the shadows, listening?
Damned coward.
Searching the area, Justice said, “I got the impression the brothers didn’t know that much about MMA.”
“Yeah, they’re new to the sport. They like it. Stack’s fight was their first live event, but they’re really into the heavyweights now. They watched our last fight on the internet and they’re hoping for a rematch.”
Just as Marcus had said. But why spy on Fallon?
Almost as soon as he thought it, Tom gave him a credible answer. “I told them I didn’t think you’d go for it, that you liked your new job and were hung up on Fallon.” He quickly held up his hands. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just that it looks like you’re going in a different direction now.” He shrugged. “They said they could convince you.”
Did they hope to get Fallon out of the picture, to force him to refocus? “I’ve told you at least a dozen times that it’s not happening. I suggest you convince them, as well.”
Tom scowled. “You’re killing me, man. The girl is nice and all, but—”
“No buts.” Fallon was considerably more than nice.
“The brothers said they could bring you around. God knows they have the money to do it. So at least hear them out.”
Would they offer him money, Justice wondered, or did they plan another form of leverage? Maybe something involving Fallon?
He glanced up and down the road. “I think you got stood up.”
Frustration deepened Tom’s frown. “I’ll call him and see what’s up.”
“Yeah, before you bother, we need to talk.”
“That’s what we’ve been doing, right? But you’re still being a stubborn ass.”
Justice walked over to the driver’s door and got in.
“What are you doing?”
With a little effort, he got his car back onto the road. Tom stood there, hands on hips, watching until Justice backed up alongside him. With the push of a button, he lowered the passenger window and said, “Get in.”
He could tell that Tom wanted to refuse, but then with a curse, he opened the door and slid into the seat.
“You’re damned annoying, Justice, you know that?”
Calmly, Justice drove up the short distance to where Tom had parked, pulled in behind his Corvette and put the car in Park.
Half turning in his seat, he faced Tom. “I’m going to believe you’re here for a meeting, but if I find out otherwise, I’ll destroy you.”
Rage growing, Tom barked, “To hell with it. We can settle this right now.” He reached for the door handle—and the lock clicked into place. Incredulous, he glared at Justice. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Since he planned to tell all to Tom...maybe. But hell, he was willing to work with Marcus, and that had already put him over the edge of sanity. “Let me lay out some facts here for you, okay?”
“You’ve got about two seconds.”
Justice decided to start with the most pressing issue. “Someone is deliberately placing you at the scene each time something happens.”
The scowl lightened, and Tom scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t think it’s a hell of a coincidence that Fallon would get elbowed down the steps when she’s away from me, but close to you? Then someone calls the agency and labels you a threat. Now we’re both on this road—a road where we normally wouldn’t run into each other—and some asshole pulls a prank with diesel that could’ve gotten someone killed.”
Tom glowered as he considered it then shook his head. “I told you, I’m here to meet Kern.”
“But the bastard’s not here, is he? It’s just you and me. I don’t mind telling you, with everything’s that happened, if Fallon had been with me, there’s a damn good chance I’d be even more pissed than I am. It wouldn’t take much for one of us to lose our cool and end up—”
“Fighting,” Tom agreed with thoughtful uneasiness. He rubbed his face. “So you think what? That someone wants us to battle it out? We’re on a dark street with no one around.”
Calmly, Justice pointed out the obvious. “If it’s just us, who set that diesel on fire?”
Bewildered, Tom sat back in his seat. “That’s a hell of a conspiracy you’re spinning.”
“Yeah.”
“I have to admit, it does seem off.”
“Big-time.” Justice rested an arm over the steering wheel. “Without any bullshit, have you ever followed me?”
“What do you mean?”
Resting his wrist on the wheel, he gestured toward Tom’s car. “In your Vette.”
Knowing he was busted, Tom shifted. “Well, fuck, this is awkward.”
Justice waited.
“It’s not what you think.”
“No? So what is it?”
“I was on that side of town to get my car serviced and I just happened to see you. Sure, I followed for a bit. I couldn’t think of any reason for you to be over that way unless you were going to another gym to train, which would mean you weren’t as out of the game as you claimed.”
“Why would you give a shit?”
“Because I want a goddamned rematch!”
Justice studied him. “You didn’t follow me to Fallon’s?”
Slashing a hand through the air, Tom said, “No. Hell, I didn’t know anything about her until I caught up with you at Rowdy’s.”
“No way you didn’t see her with me in the car.”
Coldly, Tom said, “For someone who doesn’t want a fight, you sure like to sling out the insults.”
“Well?” Again, Justice waited.
“I saw you had someone in the car, yeah, but not her specifically. I figured just a date, you know? I wasn’t interested in following you anymore, but we kept going in the same direction until somehow I lost you. I ran a few other errands, then we both ended up at Rowdy’s, so I guess we were headed in the same direction.” He sh
rugged.
“What’s the name of the place where you get your Vette serviced?”
Tom told him without hesitation, even naming the street. When Justice pulled it up on his cell, the route made sense. “Pure happenstance, huh?”
“Believe it or not. I don’t care.”
But Justice could tell that he did. Hell, no one wanted to be unjustly accused. “That’s the only time you’ve ever followed me?”
“Swear to God, and I didn’t exactly plan it that time.”
Justice believed him. “Okay then. You want to know why I’m so skeptical?” By the time he finished explaining all his concerns with Fallon, the brothers and Marcus, Tom was outraged.
“What can I do?” he asked simply.
Justice told him.
* * *
MARCUS SAT IN uncomfortable silence inside the conference room of his offices. Across from him, Tom Nelson maintained a deadly stare. He was enormous, layered in muscle and presently in a bad mood. Or maybe he had no other mood—although, thinking back, Marcus remembered when Tom had met Kern and York at the MMA event. He’d been all smiles and “good old boy” charm then.
What the hell did these fighters eat? How many hours did they spend training?
Unlike Justice, Tom’s mocking smile felt like a knife blade to his ribs. Justice, at least, had a little humor to him.
It had taken some fancy maneuvering to arrange the meeting. Justice wanted Tom and the brothers together, in front of Marcus, so that the puzzle pieces fit together in an unmistakable pattern. There could be no doubt, no suspicion of secret intent.
In the end, Marcus had called Kern to say he must meet with him that morning, only minutes after Tom had also requested a morning meeting. When Kern mentioned the conflict, Marcus offered to call Tom and arrange them to meet together in his office’s largest conference room.
A small security camera was set up in the corner, and more importantly, Justice wasn’t far away.
