Hard Justice

by Lori Foster

  Her mother interjected, “Unfortunately, Fallon, you know your father rarely jokes.”

  She flattened her hands on the tabletop. “You already called the agency?”

  “And spoke with Ms. Silver herself. She, too, sends her apologies and offered a full refund.”

  Fallon shoved back her seat. “Call her back!”

  “I’ll do no such thing.” Throwing down his napkin, her father pushed back his chair and he, too, stood.

  Her mother quickly circled the table and positioned herself between them. “I know Sahara Silver quite well. Lovely lady. Very shrewd. I’m sure she’ll give the situation time to cool down before actually acting—”

  “I told her my decision was final.” Her father’s expression pinched. “I also told her that her man had gotten you drunk to the point that he had to carry you in, and that he’d engaged in violence in your presence.”

  Fallon saw red. “The bar was my idea. I picked the place. I chose to drink. And Justice did exactly as you asked—he kept every other person a mile away.” Hoping for a smidge of understanding, Fallon snapped, “I even had to dance alone! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Her father ignored most of what she’d said to focus on one thing. “Justice?” he repeated with a scowl. “Now you’re on a first-name basis with the man?”

  “Clayton,” her mother reprimanded. “Of course they’re on a first-name basis. This is a more casual assignment—”

  “An assignment the two of you insisted on!” Fallon said, more than ready to fight her own battles. “I didn’t need a bodyguard to be a normal person.”

  “Fallon...” Her father reached for her, but she stepped back.

  “The fight wasn’t his fault either. He was the perfect protection. I didn’t even see what happened, it was over with so quickly. I only know that no one got near me because he didn’t let them.”

  Not budging an inch, her father said, “What’s done is done.”

  Giving up, Fallon realized that she wouldn’t be able to reason with him. Whenever challenged, the inimitable Mr. Wade dug in. “Fine,” Fallon said. “You don’t want to hire him, then don’t. I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “Oh, dear,” her mother whispered. “Fallon, honey, he’s quite expensive.”

  “I have more than enough of my own money.” Breathing harder, Fallon said, “I’m twenty-four and it’s time I lived my own life.”

  “I forbid it!”

  Her eyes flared at her father’s vehemence. “Why? Because then you won’t have control?”

  Silence fell around them. After several tense seconds, her father removed his reading glasses and rubbed at his forehead. “I’ve never yelled at you before. Not in anger.”

  Fallon saw his remorse. “I’ve never yelled at you either.”

  Using that as an opening, her mother said, “This is important to her, Clayton. Surely you see that.”

  Once again, the silence stretched out...until Fallon couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Dad, I understand how you feel. I really do.” But she’d let that understanding isolate her to the point that her parents thought she needed a bodyguard just to go out. “The thing is, I’m doing this with or without your blessing.” She clasped his hand. “I’d prefer it with.”

  Defeated, he nodded, and even managed a dim smile. “And I’d prefer to be the one who hires him.”

  Fallon almost groaned. Somehow, some way, she needed to gain her independence. “Dad—”

  “I’ll go call the agency now.”

  * * *

  DISGRUNTLED AFTER A sleepless night filled with regret, Justice slouched in a seat in his boss’s office at the posh Body Armor Agency. He’d only been on the job for four months. First he’d worked part of a case with Leese—a case that ended with Leese getting engaged. Then he’d had a longer stint with a movie star cast in an MMA movie roll. The duties of that job had been twofold: protect the client from rabid fans during the local shoots and teach him how to portray a fighter during the action scenes.

  The first part was a piece of cake compared to the second. The dude, talented at acting but not so much at throwing punches, had a hell of a time catching on. He’d been too arrogant to really learn, determined to think he could overcome the physical aspect of the role—the right stance, the proper moves—with added drama. Justice dreaded seeing the movie, since he knew the actor was going to end up looking like a fool.

  Or maybe, he hoped, selective editing and a more athletic stand-in could make it all work. The upside of that job had been the groupies who, when shot down by the star, were more than happy to spend time with a bodyguard. He grinned, remembering how in awe they’d been of his résumé. Not many fighters turned to protection, but for him, so far, it fit.

  That is, until Fallon Wade.

  His boss’s number-one man, Enoch, delivered a tray of much needed coffee and Sahara’s favorite pastries.

  Less tired and therefore more upright, Leese sat across from Justice. Apparently the late-night call hadn’t kept him up. Since getting engaged, Leese looked satisfied more often than not.

  Leese accepted coffee but, forever the fitness buff, passed on the sweets. Leese might have left the fight world, but he’d yet to abandon the training.

  Sahara Silver, best boss ever, propped her very shapely rear on the edge of her massive desk and, looking orgasmic, bit into a jelly-filled doughnut. She’d dressed as classy as ever in a silky blouse, skinny skirt and crazy-high heels.

  He liked Sahara a lot and respected her even more. She was a shark in business, a high-maintenance woman and a loyal friend. After licking her lips and washing down the sugar with a big drink of her coffee, Sahara turned to him, grinned and said, “Buck up, buttercup.”

  “I got fired,” Justice grouched back. “Don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

  “True, you did.” She swung one foot. “But I’m guessing someone had a fit, because just as I was headed in to this little meeting, Mr. Wade called to say he’d had a change of heart. You are to report to their home at six this evening.”

  Very slowly, Justice straightened. “You’re shi—” he quickly censored himself and corrected “—kidding me?”

  Sahara feigned an absurd look of innocence. “Would I do that?”

  “You think the daughter forced it?” Leese asked.

  “Why else? When Mr. Wade called—at the crack of dawn, by the way—he was most adamant that Justice was through. I do believe he wanted me to hang him by his toenails...or some other more vulnerable body part.” She bobbed her eyebrows while giving a pointed look at his crotch. “The man was entirely enraged and I only soothed him by telling him I’d give Justice a strict reprimand.”

  Justice scowled.

  “Consider yourself severely reprimanded, by the way.” Sahara made him wait while she took another bite of her doughnut. “Funny thing, though, when Mr. Wade called back, he was subdued to the point of being sullen. He snarled that he’d reconsidered and the contract should stand.”

  Justice didn’t know what to think. Had Fallon had a hissy? That’d fit the princess role, but she hadn’t seemed like the hissy type to him.

  Still, it wasn’t like he knew her well. Shortly after meeting, she’d gotten drunk and people could be very different then.

  “None of this makes sense,” Justice said. “I’m not even sure why she needs protection.”

  While sipping coffee, Sahara shrugged. “Her father is wealthy. Threats come out of nowhere.”

  “But it’s more than that,” Justice insisted. “They treat her like she’s a kid.” He glanced at Leese. “She wanted to go to a bar and drink beer. Said she’d never done either one before. What twenty-four-year-old lady’s never done that?” And now that he thought of it, it made him wonder what else she hadn’t done.


  Not a good direction for his thoughts to take.

  “That’s where you took her?” Leese asked.

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t help but half grin. “She got hammered right off the bat. It would have been funny if her dad wasn’t breathing fire down my neck.”

  Leese gave him a long look. “Had she eaten?”

  “I dunno.”

  The long look became disbelieving. “You didn’t find out?” Leese sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “You took a twenty-four-year-old sheltered client on a drinking spree without asking questions first?”

  Going on the defensive, Justice said, “’Course I asked questions. She just didn’t give a lot of answers.”

  “Tell me you at least did your research beforehand.”

  “I told you last night, she didn’t give me a chance. She laid out the agenda after I got there, not before.”

  Leese shook his head. “But you researched her, right?”

  Starting to feel uncomfortable, Justice shifted. He knew Leese was big on digging up every bit of info he could, in every way he could. “What was there to research? It was a straightforward job. Just watch over her for a while.”

  Leese and Sahara shared a look of disappointment.

  “What?” he demanded. “There wasn’t any specific threat ever mentioned.”

  “You do your research, regardless.” Leese stood. “You know that.”

  “Sure. But this time, it didn’t seem necessary. I mean, I’m like a glorified babysitter or something.” Except that now...yeah, now he wished he knew more about her.

  “Let’s go.” Leese returned his coffee cup to the tray. “We’ll do it now.”

  “We will?” Justice quickly gulped down his coffee and went to follow his friend. After all, Leese had fallen much more comfortably into this new gig. For him, it had been an easy transition.

  For Justice, he still felt like he had a lot to learn...obviously.

  “Yes,” Sahara said. “Go, shoo. Do your jobs. Leave the rest of the pastries for me. And Justice? Let me know how it goes.”

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Justice pulled through the gate to the Wade home, he felt like he had a better handle on things.

  He now knew that Fallon had graduated at the top of her class, so she was obviously smart.

  She didn’t keep a Facebook page or Twitter account, so she wasn’t much for social media—or she was super private. He’d bet on the latter.

  The lack of an online persona made it tougher to get a handle on her personal preferences. Leese had thought they’d find out about her friends, past dates, the places she enjoyed hanging...but when they found nothing, they both decided it was her father’s wealth that made it difficult to do the usual. Anyone could be tracked online, but as protective as her folks were, they wouldn’t like making it easy.

  Fallon was young for her job as a decorator for her father’s hotel chain. She handled only the local hotels, though. Justice didn’t know if that was out of an aversion to traveling or just convenience.

  Since most rich people spent a bunch of their time jetting around, Leese had dug a little more, but even he couldn’t find a single instance of Fallon leaving the city in years.

  Curious, but what Justice found most interesting was an incident from five years ago when Fallon’s sister, older by two years, had tragically died in a fire. That alone might be enough to prompt the parents to hover over her.

  Losing a kid...he couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. But yeah, it could make anyone more protective.

  There weren’t many details to go by. The parents were super private and had refused all interviews. All Leese could find was a report of the fire, started by accident, saying that the sister had died. Apparently the Wades had enough money and influence to keep their personal business out of the news.

  To prepare for the assignment, Justice had left Leese to finish up his cursory research while he checked out all the local establishments that Fallon might want to visit. That had taken most of the afternoon. After figuring he had a handle on things, Justice had eaten his dinner and headed out.

  Now that the storms had blown over, the spring day felt too warm and muggy. He’d dressed in a T-shirt and jeans with his usual gym shoes. This time of early evening, the sun settled like a blaze on the horizon, making sunglasses necessary as he drove along the landscaped private drive to the house.

  First thing Justice noticed was a black Mercedes parked out front. Slick ride. Curious, he parked behind it, got out and started for the front door. Right before he reached the steps, the door opened and a suited GQ-looking guy got ushered out.

  Tall, trim, blond—and obviously of the same moneyed ilk as Fallon’s family.

  Effectively backing him out the door, Fallon said, “Really, Marcus, I’ve been clear. I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

  Huh. A boyfriend? Maybe past boyfriend, given Fallon’s frown. Justice held back, watching and waiting.

  Marcus took her hands. “Don’t say that, Fallon. You can’t mean it.”

  “I do.” She tugged, but good ole Marcus didn’t let her go.

  That irked Justice big-time. He was about to intercede when Mr. Wade stepped out, and for once he looked pissed at someone other than Justice. “Go, Marcus. Don’t make this more uncomfortable for her than it has to be.”

  “Please, sir, I need just a minute to speak with her.”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Mr. Wade insisted.

  “Dad,” Fallon complained. “I can handle this.”

  “I screwed up,” Marcus rushed to say to her father, ignoring Fallon’s objection. “I know that and I’m sorry. It just...took me by surprise.”

  “Marcus!” Face going red, Fallon glanced at her father, who didn’t budge. “You don’t have to explain. Seriously.” She tugged again, but blondie didn’t let go. “I understand. But surely you see—”

  “It won’t happen again. I swear.”

  “What,” her father asked with growling menace, “won’t happen again?”

  “Dad,” Fallon pleaded more urgently. Then to Marcus, “Don’t do this. Please.”

  Justice decided he’d had enough. Interrupting whatever Marcus would have said, he announced himself. “Hey, Fallon. You about ready?”

  Finally noticing him, her face lit up, then pinched in irritation as she forcefully yanked her hands from Marcus. “Yes, of course. I’ll need only a minute.”

  “Sure.” As he strode up the steps, Justice pushed the glasses to the top of his head, letting them catch in the messy fauxhawk that he knew needed a good trim.

  She looked nervously to her pushy swain. “Marcus...”

  “I’m not leaving,” Marcus insisted.

  Yeah, Justice decided, he was. “Did I get here just in time to be useful?” His muscles clenched. He felt like cracking his knuckles—or the boyfriend’s head.

  “No! That is, everything’s fine.” Fallon floundered, then pulled back her shoulders and glared at Marcus.

  “Fallon,” the guy pleaded.

  “Goodbye.” After giving her dad a warning frown, Fallon sent a fast smile to Justice, then hurried inside.

  Pinning his gaze to Marcus, Justice approached with as much menace as he could muster.

  Marcus quickly stepped aside, caught himself and, instead of leaving, he struck an arrogant stance. “Who are you?”

  “None of your business.” Satisfied with Marcus’s flustered reaction, Justice turned to her father with a cordial nod. “Mr. Wade.”

  “Mr. Wallington.” He blocked the door. “I’d like a word please.”

  “All right.” Justice had figured on getting an earful.

  Mr. Wade turned to Marcus again. “Don’t come back here uninvited or you’ll find yourself out of a job.”
/>
  Justice whistled low. Far as dismissals went, that was a brutal one.

  Face going red, Marcus nodded. “As you wish.” Trying to muster some dignity, he needlessly straightened his suit coat. “But I will speak with her again.” He cast a cautious look at Justice, turned and left.

  Both men watched, arms crossed, until Marcus had driven out of view.

  Seeing a neutral opening, Justice asked, “Is he a threat?”

  “Marcus? No, of course not.” Mr. Wade closed the door behind him, giving them privacy outside. “You know that I fired you.”

  “Not something I would’ve missed.” The man had shouted it at him in a rage.

  “I hired you back only because Fallon insisted.”

  What was he supposed to say about that? No way would he thank him, so instead he settled on a simple, “Okay.” He didn’t want things to be more awkward than necessary, but hell if he’d grovel.

  “I wouldn’t have,” Mr. Wade stated, “but she threatened to hire you herself. With her own money.”

  Fallon had enough of her own? Justice wasn’t sure. Nothing in the research revealed her finances, and it didn’t feel like an appropriate question to ask. Feeling his way, he said, “I gather you don’t want her to do that?”

  “No, I don’t.” Showing his frustration, Mr. Wade ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the meticulous style. “But Fallon is independent.”

  Justice almost choked on that. He banked the skepticism when Mr. Wade glared at him.

  “You don’t understand,” Mr. Wade continued. “I would love to indulge her, but other than agreeing to live at home, she rarely lets me. Even for holidays—her birthday, Christmas—she complains if we give her too many gifts. She buys casual department store clothes, drives an economy car—”

  “So far,” Justice said, “I don’t see a problem.” He kind of liked the idea that Fallon was so low-key. Made it easier for him to relate to her.

  “I was remiss in explaining things to you.” Locking his hands behind his back, Mr. Wade paced. “Fallon received a sizable trust fund from my parents. If she chose to, she could live a very comfortable, independent life off that. However, she almost never touches the money. For the most part, she makes do with her limited salary.”