by Taylor Lee
The Judge grasped her hand in both of his, then bent over and kissed it. Looking up at her, his slate-gray eyes shone with open admiration. “Welcome to our fair city, Ms. Durant. And thank you for coming to our celebration. My great-granddaughter has been singing your praises—as have my grandsons. I now understand why. Again, my dear, welcome.”
Touched by his sincere praise, Mac could only nod.
“There you are, Judge, and of course you would be standing with two of the three most beautiful women at the party tonight. I’m just glad that the third is with me.”
Jared Justice and his fiancée Hailey Michels strode toward them. Close behind him was the fourth Justice brother, Jake Justice, who commanded the Duluth Police Department.
Mac stood back and marveled at the remarkable pulchritude of the group surrounding her. Hailey Michels was one of Mac’s running partners along with Skylar, and was the epitome of a gorgeous blond beauty. It had taken Mac less than ten minutes with the lovely woman to see that her California beach bunny looks disguised a smart, competent policewoman who had understandably snared the youngest Justice brother. Like his older brothers, Jared was beyond handsome, and his dancing emerald eyes confirmed that the former renowned lady-killer had deserved his bad-boy reputation.
Jake Justice reminded Mac of Jorden. The two older brothers were more serious, although just as dashing as their younger siblings. She’d met Jake at the opening assembly at Wildwood, when the handsome police commander had given a welcoming speech to tittering young women. It was clear to Mac that his cautions about drugs, alcohol, and other enticements they were likely to face hadn’t been nearly as compelling to the eager teenagers as his commanding presence and winning smile.
Later, Mac would remember Jorden’s hand gripping her arm and pulling her next to him. She wondered if that had been his attempt to protect her from the incoming shrapnel strafing the family entourage. She thought later, that out of all of them, she needed the least protection.
“Well, well. Aren’t I special? Really, Jorden, you didn’t have to assemble the entire Justice army to welcome me to the party. But then, you were always into overkill. Can I presume that all four Justice brothers and the Judge will provide enough supervision to allow me to attend my daughter’s sixteenth birthday party?”
Mac turned toward the mocking voice coming from the entrance to the garden. Interestingly, her first thought was how glad she was that she’d worn her black sheath dress to the party. Knowing that some very beautiful people would be attending the birthday bash, not the least of whom was the intriguing Assistant United States Attorney for the Ninth District, her confidence had spiked when she had checked out her reflection after dressing. The strapless, form-fitting cylinder of black silk rippled over her curvy body. It was cut just low enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of her full breasts. Those breasts and her long, toned legs, made even longer and toned because of her four-inch stiletto heels, were usually contained in the obligatory sweatsuits and other gym clothes she wore. And, she’d thought with a pleased grin, her father was right. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t spark to the riotous cloud of sun-streaked red curls that she’d artfully fastened on top of her head with an emerald studded comb.
Her second thought upon seeing the smirking woman, who could only be Jorden’s former wife and the mother of his daughters, was how woefully inadequate she looked in comparison to the apparition advancing on them.
Mac had seen beautiful women before. The fan magazines gracing every grocery store checkout line were filled with beautiful, shapely women whose sole purpose seemed to be to taunt and tantalize the chubby moms reading them. The magazine cover girls were intended to make the ordinary women eagerly devouring the slick images believe a smidgen of beautiful-people-glow might rub off on them, if only in their imagination. Staring at Jorden’s ex-wife, Mac concluded there wasn’t a cover girl alive who wouldn’t have been daunted by Francine.
Mac’s body-skimming dress, and even Skylar’s and Hailey’s knockout dresses paled in comparison to the vision in the doorway. With her five-inch high heels, Francine was easily as tall as the six-foot man beside her. A cascade of thick blond hair that put the summer sun to shame streamed over her shoulders and down her back. Her alabaster skin was flushed with a rosy glow, and her large, wide-spaced azure eyes sparkled with malice. But the truly remarkable feature was her body. Hustler Magazine centerfolds didn’t have anything on Francine. The way she flaunted her body in the scraps of shimmering white satin that comprised her dress confirmed that, like everyone who saw her, Francine knew that she was one of the most gorgeous women alive.
Still holding her arm, Jorden turned to Mac. His voice was strained, a steel-tight wire stretched to the breaking point. “Mac, this is Francine—”
The smirking woman finished his sentence with a sugary smile. “I’m Francine Justice.” At the shocked gasps of the people in front of her, she focused her sneer on Jorden. “You look surprised, Jorden. I thought you all knew that I’d taken back my rightful name. The one that you and both of my daughters carry.”
The devastated expression on Jorden’s face was challenging enough, but it was the flush of impotent anger and pain flooding the Judge’s craggy face that galvanized Mac. She stepped forward and held out her hand to the wicked woman.
“How do you do. We haven’t met. I’m McKenna Durant. I’m the new school psychologist at Chloe’s and Emma’s school. I also have the pleasure of coaching Chloe’s basketball team.”
Gratified that her aggressive move had knocked a little of the sneer off the vicious woman’s face, Mac pressed her advantage. Turning to the muscular, sandy-haired boy-toy standing beside Francine, she held out her hand and said with a smile. “You look like you’re as new to this group as I am. Your name is?”
When the flustered young man, who had to be a good ten years younger than Francine, mumbled his name, Mac twisted the knife. “Nice to meet you, Bart.” Glancing over her shoulder at the group of glowering men behind her, she added with a pleasant smile, “A word of warning. Trust me, all these imposing men are as powerful as they seem. I’ve learned in the short time that I’ve lived here that you don’t mess with the Justice brothers.”
She sidled up to the Judge and said, “In particular, the Judge, who is rightfully a legend in this city and beyond.” She linked her arm in his and grinned. “Someday, sir, you’ll have to meet my father. He’s as proud of me as you must be of all these impressive men you’ve raised.”
Mac was especially grateful that she’d taken the spotlight off the scowling woman glaring at her when a chorus of excited voices rang out to signal the arrival of the birthday girl, and what looked like half of Chloe’s school class. The girls were a teen fashion magazine editor’s dream. Like richly adorned fluttering butterflies, each of their dresses met the exacting standards of the rigidly decreed elements of the latest fashion. That all of the girls looked as if they could pull off the sensational attire without effort spoke to the elevated realm of society they and their parents inhabited. Remembering the inner-city high school that she’d just left, Mac was struck as she often was at how unevenly the riches in this great country were distributed. But her reminiscences were cut short by Chloe’s excited squeals as she rushed toward them.
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” Chloe grabbed Jorden’s arm and turned to her bubbly friends. “You guys all know my dad and my uncles, and of course you know the best great-grandfather in the whole entire world.”
She stopped her excited introductions long enough to plant a noisy kiss on the Judge’s flushed face. Still clinging to Jorden’s arm, her eyes sparkled when she saw Mac. “And we all know Mac, the best basketball coach ever, who is going to help me learn not to choke at the free throw line.” In the appreciative laughter that followed, her eyes lit up when she spotted Hailey and Skylar. She grabbed Hailey’s hand and said, “This is Hailey, she’s Uncle Jared’s fiancée and she promised that Emma and I get to be her bridesmaids
when they get married.” She added admiringly, “Believe it or not, she’s a cop.”
Stopping long enough to snag a breath of air, Chloe hugged Skylar. “And this is Skylar. You guys saw her on television when she and my Uncle Jude caught those women who murdered their parents. Not only that, but Sky actually attended the Inaugural Ball in Washington, DC.” Lifting the edges of her beautiful dress, Chloe danced in a little pirouette and added, “And she helped me pick out this gorgeous dress.”
Chloe stepped back and breathlessly leaned against Jorden. She smiled up at him, then glanced around the crowd surrounding her. As if she’d spotted Francine for the first time, she said casually, “Oh yeah, and that’s my mom.”
Chapter 6
Watching Jorden lead his beautiful daughter to the center of the makeshift dance floor on the spacious patio, Mac felt her throat swell with emotion. God, it had been a challenging evening, but somehow they had all made it through. Although, seeing the glassy-eyed woman glaring at the glowing father-daughter couple and downing another straight shot of booze, Mac knew better than to celebrate prematurely.
Mac reassured herself that from Chloe’s and her excited friends’ perspectives, it had been a fabulous event. The Judge had spared no expense to make the evening sensational. The fireworks filling the sky punctuated the singing of Happy Birthday to You, the table-sized birthday cake was lit with sparkling firecracker candles, and the mountains of gaily wrapped gifts included everything Chloe had asked for and more.
Throughout the evening, Mac watched Jake, Jude, and Jared circle the room, keeping a relatively unobtrusive barrier between Francine and her discombobulated companion and Jorden and his grandfather. The smiles on the brothers’ faces were belied by the tension in their bodies and the anger darkening their eyes. It said something about Francine’s level of chutzpah that she ignored them as if they were annoying but inconsequential impediments to her grand plan, mere barnacles on the bottom of the boats cruising the harbor. Without question, the amount of alcohol Francine imbibed contributed to her audacity. Halfway through the evening, Mac saw Francine and Bart return to the party, their glassy eyes and uneven gait confirming what they’d been doing. Mac had chaperoned enough school dances to recognize the effects of combining designer drugs and alcohol. She made it a point to stay close to them, determined to keep the inebriated pair from spoiling the celebration.
As Jorden expertly swept his slender daughter across the dance floor, Mac nodded to Jake and Jude, who’d come up beside her. Jake’s troubled expression underscored his concern. “We want you to know, Mac, how much we appreciate you taking charge back there. None of us could have done it the way that you did. Thank you.”
Before she could answer, Jude added, “Yeah, Mac, any one of us could have knocked her flat on her ass hard enough that it would have jarred loose some of the silicone she used to augment her tits and ass. But you took her down with words alone, and with more class than any of us could have managed.”
Jared came up on her other side and snorted. “Yeah, Coach, remind me not to get on your bad side. No wonder those Fabergé egg girls you coach, my niece included, listen when you speak.”
Jake added with a slight catch in his voice, “Thanks also for what you said about the Judge. That was a world-class tribute, Mac, that none of us will forget. The Judge is the most open-minded person I know, but he despises that wicked woman for what she’s done to his son and his great-granddaughters.”
At that moment, the music came to a stop. Jorden leaned down and kissed Chloe’s cheek. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and said in a proud voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Miss Chloe Elizabeth Justice. Chloe is the brightest, kindest, and most beautiful sixteen-year-old girl it’s my honor to know. To my great joy, she’s also my daughter.”
In the applause that followed, Chloe reached up and kissed him on the cheek, then walked over to the Judge. In a clear voice she said, “Thank you, great-grandfather, for making my birthday the best birthday ever. I love you.”
The applause was loud and sustained. Mac breathed a sigh of relief as all the girls rushed to join Chloe. They thanked the Judge and Jorden, then raced as a noisy group across the grounds to the all-night slumber party that was about to begin in the huge mansion. Mac had a moment of guilty pleasure when all of the girls sought out their individual parents, but Chloe led the shrieking troupe of excited girls past her mother without stopping to say good night.
Mac saw Jorden put his arm around his grandfather and murmur in his ear. The Judge nodded and leaned against his firstborn grandson, gratitude and relief lighting his face. As the other guests crowded around them, Mac lost track of Francine for a moment. Too late, she saw her stumble through the milling crowd and weave to a stop in front of Jorden. Jorden’s expression froze, then he stepped protectively in front of the Judge and faced her.
Unlike when she made her sultry entrance, Francine’s face was splotched with red patches. Her voice was harsh, slurred, her eyes dangerously bright. “Yes, thank you Judge, for spoiling my daughter the way you’ve spoiled your grandsons. You’ve taught her that your fucking money can buy anything. Well, let me tell you, it can’t buy respect no matter how much of it you spread over this shithole of a town. And you can’t buy my daughters away from me.”
Jorden stepped forward and held up his hand. “That’s enough Francine. It’s time for you to leave.”
“Leave? Me, leave?” her voice rose shrilly. “Leave before I tell you what a fucking son of a bitch you are? No way, Jose. You think you can keep me out of my daughters’ lives? That you and your fucking grandfather can buy off all the judges like you did before? Well, think again, asshole. Goddamn you, Jorden, you aren’t going to win this time. Do you hear me?”
As she spoke, Francine swayed from side to side, grasping Bart’s arm to keep from falling. Unfortunately, Bart wasn’t any steadier than she was, but he managed to say, “C’mon, Franny. Let’s go. These people are a bunch of boring assholes. Some fucking party you brought me to. They don’t even have any decent smack.”
He grabbed her arm and started to pull her away when Jake stepped forward. “Sorry, Bart. But the Duluth Police Department frowns on seriously impaired drivers taking to the roads in our city. I’ll see that Francine gets to her hotel.”
Francine shoved at Jake’s hand and bumped into Bart. “Fuck you, Jake. You think I’d go with you? Why, asshole? You think like all the other Justice brothers, you can get a little on the side? Well, let me tell you big boy, you’re not nearly tall enough to ride this ride.”
Jorden stepped forward. His jaw was rigid, his narrowed eyes steel-hard. The deep crease on his cheek underscored his quiet anger. “It’s okay, Jake. I’ll handle this.” Grabbing her arm, he jerked his ex-wife up next to him. “Come on, Francine. I’m taking you back to the hotel.”
Francine stumbled against him and said in a slurred voice. “Sure thing, Jorden. I thought you’d never ask.” She added with a drunken cackle, “But like always, I knew you would.”
****
Mac sat on her patio and sipped on her Maker’s Mark. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink at the birthday party. Not even birthday cake, which she’d never before in her life passed on. She’d felt she needed to keep a clear head and besides, she’d been too tense to celebrate.
After Jorden left with Francine, Mac stood with Skylar and Hailey and the Judge at the front door saying good-bye to all the guests. She was amazed at the elderly man’s quiet dignity in the difficult situation. Jake and Jude ensured that the incoherent Bart was dispatched to his hotel. Jared followed Jorden and Francine to Jorden’s BMW but returned when Jorden indicated that he had it covered.
After the last of the guests had left, Jude suggested with a grim laugh that they all go to the library for a “stiff shot of whiskey…or three!”
Mac demurred, indicating that she wanted to go home. Resisting the pleas that she stay, she was relieved that the Judge seemed to understand her need
to be alone. Telling his grandsons that she deserved some downtime after the night she had endured, he walked her to the door.
When the valet pulled her twelve-year-old Camry up to the door, the Judge held her hands in his for a long moment. The fatigue he was feeling was apparent in his slumped shoulders and subdued expression.
His voice shook with a quiet intensity when he finally spoke to her. “I know, McKenna, how proud your father and your mother are of you. What an extraordinary woman you are. I know what it’s like to see my grandsons grow into the kind of men that they have become. And yes, every one of them has flaws—as we all do. But, like you, they’re honorable to the core.” He hesitated and then added, “All I ask, my dear, is that you don’t let this ugliness scare you away. We all…need you here.”
Mac was surprised at the tears burning the backs of her eyelids. Needing to leave, she raised her chin and smiled at the somber, elderly man studying her. “Don’t worry, Judge. I’ve faced scarier people than Francine.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and added, “I’m a survivor, sir, and so are your grandsons.” She planted a quick kiss on his weathered cheek, then jumped into her sedan and peeled away as quickly as her trusty automobile would allow.
Now safely ensconced in her own home, albeit a rented apartment, Mac was glad that she had stood up to Jude’s and the others’ impassioned entreaties that she stay. Particularly after her shaded conversation with the Judge, she knew that she had to leave. The memory of Jorden taking control of his ex-wife was too stark and telling. As was Francine’s slurred, triumphant glance when she said that she’d known he would take care of her. The words were a bitter reminder to Mac, as if she needed one. Drunk out of her mind, Francine was on target. Estranged husbands always went back.
****
The sharp rap on her front door didn’t surprise her. Even so, it took Mac several deep breaths and a quick swallow of whiskey to steady her legs enough to walk to the door. It took another pause to paste a smile on her face before she had the courage to open the door.