Hard Justice

by Lori Foster

  “I’m not, so quit worrying about him.”

  Mostly she was afraid Marcus would humiliate her. But how could she end this peacefully? Both men looked ready to implode.

  When Marcus started around to her side of the car, Justice muttered, “Like hell,” and threw open his door.

  Fallon hurriedly got out of the car, too. “Marcus,” she said, her voice too high. “What are you doing here? Do you have an appointment with Mom?”

  “What? No.” Marcus kept flicking his gaze to Justice. “I came to see you.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m on my way out.” She tried to sound cheerful instead of panicked.

  When Justice stopped beside her, massive arms crossed, posture relaxed as he leaned on the car, Marcus must have decided he wasn’t a problem and finally gave her his full attention.

  “We need to talk.”

  She didn’t want to talk. “Another time, maybe.”

  “You keep dodging me.”

  “’Cuz she doesn’t want to talk to you, you dipshit.” Justice smiled at him. “Let it sink in, then go away.”

  Marcus turned on him. “Bodyguards are supposed to be respectful!”

  “Not to dipshits,” Justice muttered. “I’m plenty respectful to Fallon, which is more than I can say for you.”

  Marcus all but vibrated in frustration as he tried to focus on her again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It was thoughtless and if I’d been better prepared—”

  No, no, no. “It’s fine,” she squeaked. “I’ve already forgotten about it.”

  “Then—”

  “We’re done, Marcus. Over. Please, please get that through your head.”

  “I won’t accept that.” He reached for her—

  And Justice moved. “Nope. Touch her and I’ll break something. Or to be more specific, something on you. Like...an arm? Maybe just a hand. I dunno, yet.”

  “You cannot just go around threatening people!”

  Unconcerned, Justice said, “Wasn’t a threat.”

  Fallon pointed at Justice. “Get in the car!”

  “Will when you do.”

  She glared at Marcus, saw he wouldn’t budge, and turned to Justice again. “I’m going to speak to Marcus over there.” She pointed to the side of the road. “You are not to intrude, do you understand me?”

  “Long as he doesn’t touch you, I can restrain myself.” After cracking his knuckles, he lounged back against the side of the car again. “I won’t like it, but I’ll do as told.”

  “Like a trained ape,” Marcus sneered.

  Fallon gave him a shove. “Shut up or I won’t talk to you at all. Ever again!”

  Petulant, Marcus turned and stomped away to where she’d indicated, near a flowering hedge.

  With one last warning look at Justice, who managed to appear amused, Fallon joined her ex.

  The second she reached him, Marcus started to speak.

  Fallon cut him off with a slash of her hand. “I don’t want to hear it,” she hissed low. “If you can’t understand how I feel, at least respect what I say.”

  “Not when you keep saying it’s over.” He swallowed hard and whispered, “I love you, Fallon.”

  Her temples started to throb. “You don’t,” she replied gently. Of that much she was quite certain. “If you’d stop pretending to be wounded, you’d realize it.” Again he tried to speak and again, she didn’t allow it. “Men who love women are not repulsed by them.”

  “Oh, God, honey, I wasn’t,” he denied fervently. “It’s just... I assumed your family had paid for...”

  “There are some things money can’t buy.”

  Frantically, he shook his head. “There are specialists who could—”

  “No.” Fallon had to make him understand. “Don’t you see, Marcus? This is a problem for you, and it’s not going away.”

  Determined, he squared his shoulders. “There are ways around it.”

  She didn’t want to know what he might mean by that. Did he expect her to hide her entire life? No, she wouldn’t.

  Trying to reason with him, she put a hand on his arm. “I didn’t know my father had banned you. If you promise to stop pursuing me, I’ll get him to let up on that.”

  “You ask the impossible.”

  With her goodwill gone, she snapped, “Fine. Suit yourself. But I’m not discussing this anymore.” Heart punching in slow, painful beats, Fallon pivoted on her heel and strode back toward Justice.

  Marcus yelled, “Any man would have a problem with those scars!”

  Oh, God.

  Shoulders lifting, she froze, horrified and panicked. An invisible fist squeezed her heart, making her gasp.

  Her gaze shot to Justice’s.

  Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, he leaned a hip against the car and watched her.

  In that moment he reminded her of a coiled panther who only pretended to be at ease.

  As Marcus rushed toward her, Justice moved—and reached her in two long steps. Before she could even draw breath, Justice stood behind her and he stopped Marcus’s approach with one long, outstretched arm. His hand flattened on Marcus’s shoulder.

  “Word of advice.” Justice sounded cold and furious. “Leave.”

  Hearing that tone, Marcus finally showed some sense.

  She could feel Justice at her back, his big body emanating waves of anger. She prayed Marcus would go—and finally he did, stalking away with a muttered curse.

  Fallon was still standing there, too mortified to move, when Marcus made a U-turn through the meticulously trimmed grass and sped out of the driveway. The sound of his revving engine gradually faded until all she could hear were the birds in the trees, the rustling of leaves and her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

  What would Justice say now? What would he do? She was oh so aware of him behind her, backing her up, protecting her from hurts he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t understand. She felt sick with worry, apprehensive of what would happen next.

  Then Justice’s big hands settled on her shoulders, softly massaging. He said nothing. Didn’t question her, didn’t force the issue.

  He’d heard Marcus, she knew it.

  She didn’t know what to think.

  Time ticked by and he only caressed her. By small degrees the panic quieted and her heartbeat returned to normal. She knew she couldn’t remain a mute, trembling mess, so she cleared her throat, reached up to pat his hand and asked as casually as she could muster, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure.” Yet he didn’t move.

  Fearing her reprieve might be slipping away, she said hesitantly, “Justice...”

  Suddenly his massive arms came around her, stunning her stupid. He drew her back against his chest and held her, enfolded in that delicious embrace.

  Why was he always so warm? And oh my, how could she think when his scent of musk and sexy man surrounded her? Savoring it, she sucked in a long, slow breath.

  Justice lowered his chin to the top of her head, gently hugging her. Voice pitched low and rough, he muttered, “Your dad would shoot me if he saw me doing this.”

  She strangled out, “This?”

  “Comforting you.”

  Pride made her protest. “I don’t need—”

  He squeezed her quiet. “Holding you makes me feel better, okay? So just go with it.”

  She nodded, even managed to settle more comfortably against him. Never had a man so large held her so gently. Actually, she’d never known a man as large as him. His forearms, folded over her breasts, flexed with roped muscle when his thumbs brushed her skin. Fascinated, she lightly touched the soft hair there, then with one fingertip, she traced a line up to his bulging biceps.

  He was so big, so hard.

  And speaking of ha
rd, against her back she felt—

  His mouth touched her temple, and he muttered, “That’s about enough of that or I’m gonna get carried away.” Hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward him, studied her face and asked with concern, “You okay?”

  The abrupt change was like a dash of ice water. Now he would ask about Marcus. “I’m fine.”

  He smiled at her crisp tone. “I don’t know what that dumbass was blathering on about. Shh. I promise I won’t ask.” He tipped up her chin. “But know that you can talk to me, okay?”

  He did that amazing “look into her soul” thing and it left her flustered. His eyes were so dark, so serious and too intense. She nodded fast. “Yes, thank you. Now we should get going.” Pulling away, she hurried to the car.

  As usual, Justice reached the door before she could and opened it for her. “If he comes back, I want to know.”

  She wouldn’t report to him, but it didn’t seem worth arguing over, so she made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgment.

  They were on the road a few minutes before she remembered the T-shirts in the backseat. “Taking your laundry somewhere?”

  Distracted, he glanced at her, caught her meaning and grinned. “Those are for you. You’ll be with the team tomorrow, so you need an official shirt. I brought a few different ones for you to choose from.” Pretending to be stern, he added, “Most of the chicks wear them really tight and low. But I don’t want to have to beat the guys away with a baseball bat, so the shirts I brought for you are crew necked. Hope that’s okay.”

  Better than okay, it was preferable. “Thank you.” She gestured at the shirts. “May I?”

  “Sure.”

  She reached back and pulled four shirts into her lap. Two were black, one gray and one white. Each had a wolf head on the front. She read aloud, “‘Howl for the Wolf.’”

  “That’s Stack. We’ll all be rooting for him.” He winked at her. “Now you’re official.”

  “Why do they call him the Wolf?”

  Justice laughed.

  “There’s a joke?”

  “Nah, see, there’re two meanings behind the name and I’m not sure you want to hear them both.”

  “But I do,” she insisted.

  He glanced at her two more times before shrugging. “All right then. He got the fight name because of the way he stalks his prey in the cage.”

  “Ah, like a wolf. I get it.”

  Justice’s grin widened. “It was a good, legit, badass name. But then a bunch of ladies started rumors, and now most say he’s called Wolf because of how he makes women howl in the bedroom.”

  Fallon blinked in surprise—and felt her mouth twitch. “You’re serious?”

  “Yup. Old Stack used to be a real player. That was before Vanity, though.” He tried to put on a straight face as he said, “Now he only makes her howl.”

  When Fallon snickered, Justice laughed with her.

  It felt...nice. Casual and easy. So very different from her relationship with Marcus, which despite their longer association had always felt somehow superficial, too polite and proper. “Now that I know, I’m going to feel silly wearing the shirt.”

  “Even guys will wear some version of it, so don’t give it a thought. I’ll be wearing the gray one.”

  “Okay, then I’ll choose the black one.” It had short sleeves, but that suited her. “With jeans?”

  “Perfect.”

  For the rest of their drive, Justice detailed what she should expect at the venue. It would be a late night with a lot of raucous men in close quarters and, according to Justice, women hoping to “hook up” who would probably attend the after party at Rowdy’s bar.

  It all sounded very exciting, and yes, very fun.

  She could hardly wait.

  * * *

  HE HUNG BACK, keeping his distance until they finally parked near the river. So they’d be doing the river walk? That could take all day. Perfect.

  Turning the car around, he went back the way they’d come. With them occupied, he’d have time to visit both residences.

  He tightened his hands on the wheel and thought about things—then decided exactly what to do.

  * * *

  IT WAS LATE when Justice brought Fallon home.

  Today more than any other day, she’d been so damned hard to resist. Maybe because she was so natural, so sweet, and her smiles, man those smiles, they nearly did him in. He loved seeing her happy, relaxed. For much of the day, he’d barely been able to take his eyes off her.

  They’d walked for miles and miles, and neither of them had complained. He enjoyed the way Fallon had appreciated each spring flower, cloud formations and various animals they encountered on the trails. She seemed to see everything, in ways he hadn’t before.

  Not until she showed him.

  In one of the more wooded sections of the hike, he’d overturned a fallen log and found her a salamander. She’d admired it from five feet away, making him laugh. When she insisted he carefully replace the creature and the log, his heart had squeezed with a weird sensation of...respect. Yeah, he respected her. A lot. She was rich, but compassionate. Pampered, but vulnerable. Sweet, but also amazingly sexy.

  They’d eaten picnic-style along the riverbank; hot dogs and bagged chips and cold colas had never tasted so good. He should have chosen a shadier spot, given her now-pink nose and cheekbones, but she hadn’t protested. Some geese swam by, frogs occasionally sang and tiny fish glittered in the shallower water along the shore. Butterflies had been everywhere and the air smelled good, like wildflowers, water and...Fallon.

  He taught her how to skip rocks and how to overhand throw. She wasn’t very good at either, but they’d done a lot of laughing. Before they left, she’d chosen a smooth rock as a souvenir.

  A rock. It still astounded him, and made her even more endearing.

  Though the air had cooled now, they were both a little sweaty. Justice couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken so much pleasure in a day—hell, a week.

  Something about Fallon made it impossible for him to be detached. The way she saw the world and her happy outlook, the simple joy she took in the smallest things, affected him.

  And yeah, he liked the way she looked at him. She might not realize it, but she wore her heart on her sleeve. If she’d been anyone else, anyone other than a client, maybe someone just a tad more experienced, he’d have already made a move on her.

  Instead, he’d repeated the facts in his head like a litany.

  Client, innocent, inexperienced. Those three things made her as taboo as a woman could get.

  Didn’t stop him from thinking things, but for the most part it did help him to keep those thoughts to himself...and his hands off her.

  The glow of the headlights from the SUV bounded around the area as he turned into her private drive—and that’s when he saw it. At first glance he thought it was blood.

  Everywhere.

  Then he realized it was too bright, and the arcing splatter looked as if someone had literally thrown it from a paint can. He stopped the car.

  Fallon, who’d looked to be dozing, her eyes closed, her mouth curled in a serene smile, turned to him. “What’s the matter?”

  Justice hated to ruin her day, but there was no way around it. He couldn’t pull into the drive without getting the paint on the tires and further spreading it. He drew a slow breath and nodded at the destruction. “Someone is playing vandal, and I’m betting I know who it is.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WIDE-EYED, FALLON started to open her car door.

  Justice stopped her. “No. It could be a trap.”

  “A trap?” She looked shocked, unable to understand the concept.

  Already backing out, Justice said, “We can’t drive through, so it stands to rea
son we’d get out of the car. That could be the whole point.”

  She scoffed, but didn’t argue. Justice drove farther down the road to the start of an upscale community, then pulled over to the side. Leaving the car running, he locked the doors and used hands-free dialing on the SUV’s Bluetooth to dial 911.

  “Is that necessary?” Fallon quickly asked. “It seems like such a fuss.”

  “It’s necessary.” As soon as he finished talking to the police, who promised to meet him shortly back at the house, he dialed the agency. Everyone was gone for the day, but he left a message that Sahara would get first thing in the morning.

  Next he insisted on calling her mother.

  “She’ll be in bed.”

  “Probably. But won’t you feel better once you know she’s okay?”

  Clearly she hadn’t considered any other possibility, but as soon as he mentioned it, she agreed.

  Mrs. Wade answered on the third ring, and she did indeed sound half-asleep.

  “Mom?” Fallon said in a rush. “Are you okay?”

  More alert, her mother said, “Fallon? What’s wrong?”

  Justice sighed and took over. “Everyone is okay, Mrs. Wade. Did we wake you?”

  Bemused to realize she was on speaker, Mrs. Wade cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m sorry. What time is it?”

  “It’s late. I was just bringing Fallon home, but someone vandalized your entryway. There’s red paint everywhere. I’m going to speak to the police, and then I’ll walk her up to the door and arrange for someone to come clean it so it doesn’t get tracked anywhere else.”

  There was a startled silence before Mrs. Wade said, “I’ll be right there!”

  “No,” Justice insisted. “Let the cops do their thing first. They need to make sure no one is hanging around, and they might want to take a few pictures or something. I’ll let you know when they’re done.”

  “Oh, yes, I guess that makes sense.” She paused. “Red paint, you said?”

  “That’s what it looks like to me.” Justice assumed it was supposed to look like blood. But whatever idiot did it had no real clue how spilled blood should look.

  Lights flashed behind them as a police car pulled up.