by Lori Foster
She sat up on his lap, half facing him, and her fingers went to the buttons on her shirt.
He held his breath.
Timidly, she opened one button, peeked at him, then opened another. He could see her upper chest now and just a hint of cleavage.
Keeping his hands to himself wasn’t easy. He really wanted to help her hurry along. Being passive while a woman on his lap undressed was a new thing for him.
But then, a woman like Fallon was new, too, and he’d never dealt with an issue like hers.
Attempting to relax, he hooked one hand around her waist, leaving the other to rest on her thigh.
Sounding hoarse, he said, “You don’t have to be shy with me.”
“It’s not that,” she promised. “It’s just...”
Heightened awareness had a stranglehold on him. “What?”
“They’re ugly.”
“They’re just scars,” he chided.
“Marcus thought that, too, until he saw them, then—”
“Fallon.”
At his gentle rebuke, she lifted her brows.
“Don’t compare me to that dick, okay?”
Nodding, she squared her shoulders, opened three more buttons and with a lot of palpable dread, pulled the loosened material down her right shoulder, taking her bra strap down at the same time.
Justice had difficulty getting his gaze off her face. She looked to be in an agony of suspense while she awaited judgment.
Silly woman. Finally he looked down.
He could only see a little of the mark, and as he’d suspected, it looked like what it was—scarring. He wasn’t squeamish about it, and to prove it to her, he lightly traced the uppermost raised edges of her skin with a fingertip.
She would have recoiled, but he spread his fingers open on her back and kept her still.
Because he couldn’t see much of it, Justice asked, “How big is it?”
Hesitantly, she opened three more buttons.
The puckered, damaged skin spread out in an arc over her shoulder, midway down her bicep on her arm, over to the bottom of her collarbone and feathered into the swelling of her breast. The skin was thicker, a darker pink, little tails reaching out in different directions.
Seeing the evidence of what she’d suffered made Justice swallow hard. Only the fact that she might misconstrue sympathy or concern kept him from reacting in any way.
“Anywhere else?” he asked.
Her confusion obvious, Fallon shook her head. She was so stiff that she looked ready to break. “Well, on my thigh. I told you that.” Strain left her voice thready. “It’s not as irregular.”
He started to say more when he heard a car pull into his drive. He glanced through the window and saw Leese parking.
Before he ran out of time, Justice carefully pulled the material back together and closed the buttons.
“Justice?”
He drew her in for a soft kiss before explaining, “We have company.”
She blinked fast. “We do?”
He smiled at her obvious confusion. She’d had herself all prepared for him to react a certain way, but he hadn’t and now she didn’t know what to say or do. No doubt she wondered what he thought, but she wasn’t ready to hear the truth, and he needed time to figure out his next move.
“Leese is here.” He lifted her to her feet just as the knock sounded on the front door. Stepping around her, Justice opened it.
“We have to talk,” Leese said as he stepped in—then drew up short when he noticed Fallon. He stalled. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”
Fallon blurted, “We were planting flowers.”
Biting off his grin, Justice nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we were doing.”
Leese elbowed him. “Don’t embarrass her, you ass.” He turned to smile at Fallon. “Ms. Wade. How are you?”
“Fallon, please. And I’m well.” She flashed a worried, uncertain look at Justice. “I’ll just...go work on the flowers while you two talk.”
“I’ll only be a minute,” Justice promised.
Once she’d politely pulled the door closed behind her, Leese slowly turned to stare at him.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But you’re going to.” Justice walked over to the window and saw Fallon standing there by the flowers, staring down at the grass, unmoving. Something inside him shifted, as if making room for unfamiliar emotions. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling—but it wasn’t bad either.
“She was in the fire,” Leese said.
If he expected a big reaction, he’d be disappointed. “Just found that out for myself.”
“She told you?”
“Yeah.” Justice headed into the kitchen for a drink. “She has some scars and is really touchy about them.”
“From what I read, it was pretty damned awful.”
It was, but Justice felt the need to protect her privacy. “What’d you find?”
“One of the companies her father owns did a small report about it, mostly to let other employees know so they could share their condolences. Mr. Wade found out and squashed it, but you know how that goes. Digital trails are never completely erased.”
“Her father didn’t want her hassled. I don’t blame him.”
Leese leaned against the kitchen counter while Justice poured tea. “I wanted to talk to you about something else, too.”
Determination rushed through Justice. He hated that Fallon had suffered, that she undervalued her physical appeal now, and he really wanted to go stomp on Marcus because he just knew the bastard had further damaged her delicate ego. Even more than that, he wanted to prove to her that the scars, no matter how harsh, in no way detracted from her appeal.
However, he didn’t want Leese to know anything about it, so he shrugged and said, “Shoot. I’m all ears.”
“I heard she took a fall down the steps last night.”
“Yeah.” And Justice really felt guilty about it. “I thought she was right behind me but—”
Leese interrupted to say, “Someone called the agency with an accusation.”
Justice paused with the tea halfway to his mouth. “The hell you say. Who called?”
“Anonymous.”
Very slowly, he set the tea aside. “To accuse me of what?”
Leese shook his head as he stepped away from the counter. “The guy who called claims he saw Tom with Fallon.”
A smoldering anger softened Justice’s tone when he asked, “Doing what?”
“Well...” Leese rubbed the back of his neck. “Supposedly he was giving her a shove—down the stairs.”
* * *
FALLON TRIED TO hide her hurt as Justice unexpectedly hustled her to the car and drove her home. He’d been in such a rush to get rid of her, he’d barely given her time to wash the dirt from her hands.
When she’d protested that there was one more flower to go in the ground, Leese offered to do it.
But damn it, she wanted to plant that flower.
And she wanted to know Justice’s thoughts.
He’d looked at her, at the evidence of her burns and what she’d caused to happen five years ago...but he hadn’t said a word. Was he repulsed?
No. Justice wasn’t like that.
But had his interest turned to pity? That she could believe. Above all else, Justice was protective. He’d seemed as bothered by the retelling of the ordeal as she’d been.
So what had she expected to happen? For him to tell her it didn’t matter? To say he would overlook the fact that he was her bodyguard and she was a scarred mess and that they’d...what?
Date?
Humiliation left her sick to her stomach. She was a complete fool to think
—
“Thanks for planting the flowers.” Reaching across the seat, Justice took her hand.
She badly wanted to hang on to him, to draw on his strength, but instead she squeezed his hand, said, “No problem. I enjoyed it,” and pulled away.
He was so lost in thought, he barely seemed to notice. She wasn’t used to him being this remote. Even that very first day, he’d been more...personal.
As soon as he pulled up in front of the house, she removed her seat belt. “You don’t have to walk me in.”
He scowled and put the car in Park. “Yeah, I do.” He got out and crossed around to her even though she’d already left the car and was halfway up the steps.
When he reached her, he took her elbow. “Fallon—”
Oh, God no. She couldn’t hear this, not yet. Not now. She turned to him and forced a bright smile. “Make sure you water those flowers when you get home. I’d hate for them to all die. Your mom wouldn’t be happy.”
He quirked a smile. “Can’t have her unhappy.”
She waited.
Suddenly his cell pinged. He pulled it from his pocket for a quick look, scowled some more and said, “I gotta run. Thanks again, honey.” And with that, he turned and left.
He hadn’t mentioned going to his friend’s tonight. Did he plan to cancel? Given his rush in leaving, she should probably assume so.
Of course, she could ask... No.
It was all she could do to hold it together. If she started asking questions, she’d force him to make excuses.
She couldn’t go through that again.
Glad that her parents weren’t yet home, Fallon watched Justice drive away before going inside, doggedly climbing the stairs to her bedroom, then sitting down to cry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JUSTICE STRODE INTO the rec center, his gaze scanning the interior as he looked for Tom. He didn’t notice anyone else or anything else, so he was surprised when suddenly Armie stood in front of him. He almost plowed him over.
Mildly, Armie said, “Justice. What’s up?”
“S’Tom here?” He continued to look past Armie—until his friend stepped closer. Backing up a step, Justice barked, “What the hell?”
Still casual, Armie asked, “Can I talk to you a minute?”
“I’m busy.”
“Let’s talk.” He gave Justice a shove toward the front desk, away from the workout gear and padded mats crowded with fighters, both new and veteran.
Frustrated, Justice decided it’d be easier to deal with Armie than ignore him. He found an isolated corner and turned to say, “Make it quick.”
Armie nodded. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“No.” Bristling with impatience, he asked, “S’that it?”
Shaking his head, Armie denied him. “Sorry, dude, but the thing is, you look ready to commit murder and I have a class of kids coming by in an hour. Don’t want them to have to wade through blood and guts and shit like that, so take a breath, get a grip, and tell me what’s going on.”
The hell he would! “None of your business.”
“It is if it involves the rec center.”
Justice growled. Armie might be smaller than him, but that didn’t make him small. He was the best fighter Justice had ever known. Lightning quick reflexes, unending endurance, deceptive strength and a twisted sense of loyalty to his friends.
Which meant he wanted to save Justice from himself.
Sighing, Justice gave up and explained what had transpired.
Armie listened, nodding occasionally, then asked, “Remember what I told you about facing off with a real asshole?”
“Yeah. Keep my cool.”
“You are currently not cool, Justice.”
Couldn’t argue with that. Hell, from his toes to his ears, he was bunched up and ready for violence.
Didn’t faze Armie though. “I’m not buying that Tom had anything to do with it, and until you have proof, you shouldn’t buy it either. Anything anonymous pisses me off.”
“Yeah, that part pissed me off, too.”
“Looks to me like every part pissed you off. But my point is that you shouldn’t put too much stock into an anonymous accusation.”
“I didn’t.” Or had he? “I was just going to talk to him.”
“Fine. Talk to him, hear what he has to say. But it’s guaranteed he’s going to blow up—same as you or I would over an accusation like that—so you have to keep it together to get the facts.”
Justice hated to admit it, but Armie made sense.
“Can you really see Tom hurting a woman?”
Not really. But the bastard was awful pushy about a rematch. Justice drew a deep breath, let it out real slow and felt some of the tension seep from his muscles. “Got it. Now get out of my way.”
“He’s in the locker room.” Grinning, Armie clapped him on the shoulder and warned, “Know this, Justice—if any punches get thrown, I’m going to stomp both of you.” And with that he returned to instructing some newer fighters.
Justice barked a short laugh. Now that he’d cooled down, he had to admit he appreciated Armie’s interference. He didn’t want to cause a scene, especially with kids coming in soon. It was a known fact that any dishonorable behavior at the rec center could get a guy kicked to the curb.
When Cannon had started the club, the primary use was for the guys to train. But because of Cannon and Armie, who were longtime best friends, it had soon become an integral part of the community. Now fighters at every level trained there, women took self-defense classes, at-risk kids had an outlet and positive influence, and it all appeared seamless because everyone took turns helping out by teaching, cleaning and training.
Though he was MMA’s fastest rising star, Armie was still the one who usually organized everything. He had more energy than any three people combined and shared a special affinity for the rec center’s origins and purpose.
With a new mindset, Justice started off again. He’d talk to Tom, gauge his reaction and then decide what to do.
Steam filled the locker room when he walked in. Fresh from a shower, Tom sat on a bench wearing only jeans while he pulled on shoes and socks. He glanced up, said, “Hey, Justice,” and went back to dressing.
Same congenial greeting as always.
Folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against a set of lockers, Justice studied him.
Brows lifted, Tom sat up straighter and asked, “What?”
“You said Fallon was pushed down the steps.”
“Elbowed. Some scruffy little dude who disappeared right after.”
“You didn’t bother to grab the guy?”
“With Fallon tumbling down the steps? I was more concerned with getting to her.”
Justice slowly nodded. “You were there, looming over her, when I reached you both.”
“I wasn’t looming, you ass.” Starting to sound irritated, Tom said, “Everyone knows she’s with you.”
Well, hell. “I’m her bodyguard.”
“Yeah, keep spinning that tale if you want, but no one’s buying it.” Tom eyed him. “Gotta admit, she’s different from the usual babes you like.”
Since he didn’t want to compare Fallon with the very casual relationships he’d had in the past, Justice bypassed the comment. “So why were you trailing her?”
“I wasn’t.” Tom sat straighter, his brows knit together. “Okay, so I was hoping to chew your ear a little more, try to talk some sense into you about the rematch. But then I saw Fallon veer off from you. Right after that, she started getting jostled and down she went. Hard as she fell, I didn’t know if she’d broken anything or knocked herself out.”
That all sounded plausible. “You think the guy elbowed her on purpose?”
“Sure
looked like it to me.”
“Seems like a hell of a coincidence that you were right there when it happened, but didn’t grab the guy who supposedly caused her fall.”
Slowly, Tom came to his feet. “If you’re accusing me of something, get on with it.”
Justice could see the anger starting to spark. Tom had never had great control. As to that, Justice often didn’t either, but he was learning. From Leese, from Armie. And good thing, too, because a showdown between two pissed-off heavyweights didn’t always end well. “Just asking.”
“You know what?” Tom stepped closer, his stance combative. “I did watch her once I saw she was alone and looking a little lost. Where the hell were you, Justice?”
He rolled a shoulder. “We got separated. Soon as I realized it, I backtracked to get her.”
“Not in time.”
Justice couldn’t deny that.
Crowding closer still, Tom growled, “You should be thanking me for being there. She might’ve gotten trampled otherwise.”
He was so obviously looking for a fight, Justice had to wonder if Tom would stoop that low just to get his attention, to maybe force a confrontation. Anything was possible, and when it came to Fallon’s welfare, he planned to cover all his bases.
Without retreating, Justice relaxed his stance in a deceptive way.
If Tom lunged, he’d flatten him.
“Someone,” he said casually, watching Tom’s reaction, “called the agency where I work.”
“Yeah, who?”
“Whoever it was didn’t leave his name.”
Bristling with impatience, Tom waited.
“The caller said you were with Fallon.”
“You already knew that. I was...” Blank surprise wiped every other emotion off Tom’s face, quickly replaced with indignation. “Wait a minute. You accusing me of something?”
Justice stared at him.
Clenching with outrage, Tom said, “If you think I had anything to do with her getting hurt—”
Justice relaxed. Tom suddenly looked apoplectic, and not with guilt but insult. “You didn’t push her?”