Hard Justice

by Lori Foster

  Hell of a situation to find himself in, Marcus mused. He currently relied on Justice, the man who had replaced him with Fallon, to keep him safe from harm.

  Untenable, but what choice did he have? That same fighter would also keep Fallon safe, and that’s what mattered most.

  Getting up to pace, Marcus tried to ignore Tom’s penetrating stare as it tracked him around the room. He was just about to demand that he cease and desist with the intimidation tactics when the door opened and his assistant announced the brothers.

  Wearing wide smiles, Kern and York strode in. They’d dressed in casual clothes; khaki slacks on Kern, shorts on York, both wearing open-necked shirts and watches that cost as much as some people’s cars.

  Before Marcus could greet them, Tom growled, “Wasn’t sure you’d show this time.”

  Why was Tom so damned hostile? If he didn’t let up, he just might blow everything.

  Marcus at least wanted to keep it together until the check cleared. The more ethical thing to do, he thought, would be to tear it up and toss it into the brothers’ faces.

  He wouldn’t do it.

  He’d earned the damned donation and knowing it’d be put to good use was enough of an incentive for him. Still, he had to keep the brothers trusting him another two or three days until they’d settled everything.

  Taking the seat at the head of the long table, Kern smiled toward Tom. “Yes, I’m sorry about that. I got held up.”

  York sat at the opposite head of the table, stealing Marcus’s seat. “Did you wait around very long, Tomahawk?”

  “Got here five minutes ago.”

  Nonplussed at that reply, York shook his head. “Ah, no. I meant last night.”

  Shrugging, Tom sipped his coffee.

  Determined, Kern leaned forward. “Last night—I tried to call but my cell service was acting up.”

  Again, Tom shrugged, and Marcus could see that it exacerbated both brothers. Were they hoping to discover what had happened last night? Or did they already know and only wanted Tom’s accounting of it?

  Marcus wasn’t at all sure about Tom. He seemed sullen and unpredictable. Marcus’s own ruse was enough to make his palms sweat, but at least he recalled what to say. “While we waited this morning, Tom and I have gotten better acquainted. He mentioned that he had unexpected company last night, so it wasn’t a total waste.”

  “Oh?” Kern lifted his brows with fervent interest.

  Finally, Tom deigned to play his part. “Justice Wallington had a mishap on the road, not more than a few yards from where you asked me to wait.”

  “Mishap?” Kern asked.

  “Yeah. Some juvenile bitch playing a high-school prank. No big deal.” Tom smiled.

  “Do tell.”

  “You can imagine, he wasn’t happy.” As if they’d asked, Tom said, “No one was hurt.”

  Showing marked disinterest in that, Kern said, “Good thing,” then asked eagerly, “So you and Justice. How’d that go?”

  “Got a fight lined up.”

  Excitement caused a second of utter stillness before Kern and York celebrated with loud whoops. Kern left his seat to slap Tom on the shoulder, full of congratulations.

  “So tell me,” York probed, his tone cagey, “what turned the tide?”

  Now that Marcus was onto them, the brothers were nauseatingly transparent.

  “Guess there’s more people like you two,” Tom said, “fans who want to see me fight.”

  “And that mattered to Wallington?” York asked.

  Tom snorted. “Why the hell would he care?”

  He’s toying with them, Marcus realized, appalled by the risk. Good God, were they all insane?

  “Well,” Kern suggested, somewhat unsure of himself in the face of Tom’s attitude, “Justice was so dead set against fighting you—”

  “He still is.”

  The brothers looked at each other, sharing their confusion, until Kern exploded. “You just said you had a fight!”

  “I do, just not against Justice.”

  “But...” Kern pulled out the nearest chair and dropped into it. “The plan was a rematch.”

  “I had to give up on that,” Tom said. “I’m set to fight Denver instead. He’s another mountain, and damned good, so I’ll get lots of exposure for the fight.”

  When Kern and York just stared at him, Tom continued pricking them with inane details. “It’ll be the main event, probably in Vegas, but we’re still waiting for the calendar to be finalized. My manager will let me know as soon as—”

  Slamming his hand down on the table, Kern shouted, “What do you mean, you gave up?”

  Marcus jumped in surprise.

  Tom never even flinched. His flinty gaze met Kern’s, and his slight smile slapped like an insult. “Not much choice. Some asshole is trying to make it look like I’d use Justice’s lady to get my way.”

  York and his brother shared a fast, covert glance, so maybe Marcus was the only one to notice the clenching of Tom’s jaw.

  Kern cleared his throat. “You could—”

  “No. If I press Justice now,” Tom continued, “he’ll never believe I didn’t push the little lady down the stairs, or stomp on some fucking flowers or something.”

  “Uh...flowers?” York asked.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Tom finished off his coffee. “Some gutless punk is playing childish games, and because of that I have to change my plans.”

  “This fight was important to you,” York insisted.

  “Not as important as my rep. A real man would never use a woman to get what he wants, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone think I would.”

  Flushing, Kern tried a different tact. “You explained to Justice that it wasn’t you, and he believed you?”

  “Hell, no. Justice wanted a piece of me, no doubt about that. Thing is, he refused an actual fight in the cage, and I told him I wouldn’t risk an injury without an audience. He told me to stay away from him, and I agreed. End of story.”

  “We offered to sponsor you!” York accused.

  “You still can.”

  Fuming, Kern snapped, “We wanted the damned rematch!”

  “Get in line.”

  Everyone seemed to have forgotten him, Marcus thought, sinking back in his seat and staying still, content to be a silent observer. Tom’s open disdain of the brothers, as if they were no more than troublesome brats, fascinated him. Kern’s red-faced rage was a sight to behold. And York, his air conniving... Yes, fascinating—if it wasn’t so dangerous.

  Kern shoved back his chair so fast it hit the floor. “You don’t understand. It doesn’t have to be a professional fight. We don’t care about that.”

  Tom curled his lip. “I care.”

  Edging his testy brother aside, York righted the fallen chair and turned to straddle it. He faced Tom with an implacable smile. “Here’s the deal. Kern and I want to see you fight Justice, not some other goon. We’ve got a little wager on it, you see, and as Kern is the current loser in a string of bets, he’s anxious to try to even the score.”

  “I’m betting on you,” Kern offered for encouragement.

  When Tom narrowed his eyes, unimpressed, York said, “You will fight Justice Wallington, wherever he wants—even in a goddamned alley for all I care—and we’ll be your very generous sponsors for two years.”

  Tom lazily considered York. “So you’re betting against me, huh?”

  “There must always be a winner and a loser.”

  “This time,” Kern said, “you and I will win, Tom. I’m sure of it.”

  Tom appeared unmoved by the pep talk.

  “We’ll supply you with comfortable living quarters wherever you train, cell phone, insurance, a food and entertainment allowance, and we’ll provide a
ny equipment or supplements that you might need.”

  Kern rushed to support his brother. “Two years, Tom. You won’t get a more generous deal anywhere.”

  In a perfectly timed act, a knock sounded on the door, saving Tom from having to answer.

  As if she owned the place, Fallon breezed in, then paused at the sight of the three extra men. “Oh, Marcus, I’m so sorry. Your assistant didn’t mention that you had guests.”

  “No matter.” Smiling, he stood. “I wanted to see you as soon as you arrived.” God, she was pretty, always had been, but now that Justice had given her more confidence, she positively glowed. She’d changed her hairstyle a little, dressed in feminine clothes that showed off her body and smiled with sincere happiness.

  Marcus wished it wasn’t a farce, that her smile was for him, but in the years he’d known her, he’d never been as good for her as Justice had in such a short time.

  Did the fighter really not mind those awful scars?

  Seeing them had completely caught Marcus off guard. With time, he could have grown accustomed to them, but he’d never suspected, never considered... For the hundredth time, he cursed himself for reacting as bluntly as he had.

  Fallon hadn’t said it, but Marcus assumed she loved Justice. He saw it in the way she looked at the man, how different—how carefree—she was around him. Justice appeared to feel the same. There was a possessive look in the man’s eyes that went beyond the duties of a bodyguard and a familiarity in the way Justice watched her. Intimate familiarity.

  Fallon deserved happiness, so for her, Marcus would recite his lines and, hopefully, assist in securing her safety.

  She hesitated at the door. “I can wait—”

  “It’s okay, this is both a business meeting and personal, but I wanted you to meet the Arnolds anyway.” As he held out a hand to Fallon, he glanced at the brothers. They appeared confused by all the sudden changes. “Honey, these are the gentlemen who were so extremely generous toward the literacy fund-raiser.”

  Fallon smiled at the men. “Thank you so much, both of you. I’m still stunned, and of course, so incredibly pleased.”

  York held out his hand. “York Arnold, ma’am.”

  “Fallon, please,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “It’s very nice to meet you personally, York.”

  “This is my brother, Kern.”

  Kern gently took her hand. “Obviously Marcus has excellent taste.”

  Surprising Marcus, Fallon leaned against his shoulder in an affectionate way. “Thank you.”

  “I saw you at the MMA venue,” Kern said, as if he’d just remembered it. “Excuse me, but I thought you were with that fighter, Justice Wallington.”

  Giving a rueful grimace, Fallon nodded. “I found out that Justice isn’t quite done with the sport. It’s a commitment leaving little time for relationships.”

  “Surely no man would neglect you,” York said.

  “It doesn’t really matter because Marcus won me back.” In a teasing stage whisper, she confessed, “I made him work for it.”

  The brothers actually looked captivated.

  “And I,” Marcus said, “used your generous donation as a good excuse to get her to talk with me again.”

  “It worked,” she said with a laugh.

  Suddenly Tom shoved back his chair. “I need to get going.”

  Kern stepped toward him. “But—”

  “I’ll let you know this afternoon what I’ve decided.” Tom paused. “Either way, thanks for the offer.”

  Nice way to leave them wondering. Marcus watched Tom go, only half listening as Fallon picked up the conversation, keeping Kern and York from following.

  After adequate time, Marcus reclaimed the room. “York, Kern, the reason I asked you to stop by is because we’re creating a plaque to honor you for your lavish financial gesture. The plaque will hang in a prominent location in the new library. Now, thanks to you, at-risk children will have easy access to books.”

  York grinned. “I’m glad we could help.”

  “Let’s celebrate over lunch,” Kern said. “We can talk MMA, and maybe, Fallon, you can share a few tips on how to get Justice Wallington back in the cage for a rematch.”

  “I would love to help out,” Fallon said with a laugh. “Unfortunately I already have another appointment for today.” With Leese, who would ensure she got home safely while Justice kept an eye on the brothers.

  Marcus’s heart raced as he stood and walked her to the door. He looked down at her, wondering if she’d kiss him goodbye to seal the deal—but no, she patted his cheek, waved to the brothers and left.

  Chagrined, despite the fact none of it was real, Marcus turned back to York and Kern. “Now, what was all that with Tom?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  IN THE STOREROOM of Rowdy’s bar, away from prying eyes, Justice pulled Fallon close and kissed her, first the tip of her nose, then her chin, her cheek, and finally he settled his mouth on hers. Her soft lips parted and he felt the touch of her damp tongue.

  Groaning, Justice crushed her closer, taking her mouth in uncontrolled need, stroking deeply with his tongue, wanting to consume her.

  “Excuse me.” Avery, Rowdy’s wife, laughed as she bumped her way past them, jarring Justice back to reality.

  He lifted his head and saw Avery’s long red ponytail swish as she reached high on a shelf behind them for a massive jar of pickles.

  Justice easily stretched past her. “Let me.” He fetched it down for her.

  “Thank you.” Hugging the jar to her body, Avery said, “Carry on!” A second later, they were alone again.

  Fallon, trying to stifle a laugh, covered her heated cheeks. “Busted,” she whispered.

  Justice gathered her close and touched a finger to her now swollen mouth. God, he loved the taste of her, the way she fit against him. He pressed his forehead to hers and groaned again. His need was a live thing, always pushing at him.

  Fallon smoothed a hand over his chest, then curled her fingers against his shoulder. “I missed you.”

  “Love hearing that.” For only a few days they’d been playing this stupid but necessary game, yet it felt like an eternity. Damn it, he liked sleeping with her at night, waking with her in the morning. He’d grown used to her small body snug against his during the night, just as he’d grown used to regular sex, the hottest sex he’d ever had.

  “Marcus has been nice,” she said. “I thought I would be more uncomfortable with him, maybe even bitter, you know? But I’m not.”

  “Should I be jealous?” Stupid question; he already was.

  She tucked her face against his throat. “Before you, I saw Marcus only as the man who’d rejected me.”

  “He’s regretting that, I’m sure.” The putz.

  “Since meeting you, Marcus is just someone I know, someone I can think of as a friend.” She tipped her face up to look at him with those big, soulful eyes. “His reaction to my scars was an eye-opener, but also real. I can’t fault him for how he feels, but I’m glad I found out before we got any more involved.”

  “My reaction is real too, honey.” He put his lips to her ear and whispered, “Seeing any part of you makes me hard.”

  She laughed. “That’s the main reason I can now accept Marcus as an acquaintance, a friend and nothing more.”

  Marcus was no longer the man who hurt her. Justice only hoped that made him more irrelevant. “You’re saying I helped you get over the bad memory?”

  “You obliterated the bad memory, and I love you for it.”

  Justice’s heart plummeted to his knees, then shot up into his throat. Love. Jesus, he almost felt dizzy.

  The urge to swing her up, twirl her in a circle and tell her that he loved her, too, surged through him.

  He held back
only because she hadn’t said it in a romantic way. She hadn’t said, Justice, I love you.

  Words he wanted to hear.

  She’d only expressed her gratitude for the way he’d gotten her past her insecurity. This was too important to misunderstand; he wouldn’t embarrass her by pouncing on such a simple statement.

  Her gaze stayed with his, her smile in place, and Justice knew he had to say something.

  Straight from the heart, he decided. “You’re the most special person I’ve ever known, Fallon. I love everything about you.” Watching the confusion flit over her expression, he smiled to himself and kissed her again.

  Soon she’d understand, but damn, the storeroom of Rowdy’s bar was hardly the place for declarations.

  Hardly the place for him to be getting a boner either, yet after hearing that four-letter word, love, thrown around, he knew he was almost there.

  He broke off the kiss and cupped her face in his hands. “Everything should be settled today.” Then he’d get her back where she belonged—with him.

  “God, I hope so.” Her smile teased. So did her fingers on his chest. “I miss your house, Justice.”

  A hint? She’d been staying with Leese and Catalina for the last few nights. No way did Justice want to risk her being home alone in her parents’ mansion, and he sure as hell didn’t want to tempt fate by pushing her at Marcus.

  It amused Justice that his house could fit into the garage of her parents’ mansion, but Fallon never looked at it that way. Even her dad had assured him how little she cared for the pampered life.

  He had to taste her again. If Fallon was close, she drew him in, sharpening every physical need. “I miss having you there,” he admitted against her lips. “A lot.”

  “That apartment I wanted to look at is gone.”

  Justice froze. Good. He didn’t want her in an apartment.

  Unsure why she’d mentioned it, he tried for a neutral tone. “Still determined to go that way, huh?”

  “I’d like for each of us to have options.”

  He didn’t want options; he wanted Fallon. This time, though, with him, her needs had to come first. He smoothed his thumb over her downy cheek, knowing he’d do damn near anything for her. “Soon as we get this settled, we’ll talk about it more, okay?”