Читать книгу Hard Justice - Lori Foster - Страница 8
ОглавлениеSHE’D DRUNK ONLY two and a half beers, but Justice had a feeling that was two beers too many for little Fallon Wade.
“Dance with me,” she’d asked early on.
“I don’t dance,” he’d lied the first time.
Half an hour later, she’d asked again. “Dance with me.”
“Not in my job description.” He’d felt like a prick after saying it, but hoped it’d keep her from asking.
It didn’t.
“No one else is dancing with me,” she complained.
A few guys had tried to sidle up to her.
Justice had stared hard enough to send them all packing. In MMA, he’d learned the value of a really confident, mean, nearly tactile stare. There were times he’d won a fight before it ever started, just with his stare-down.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”
“I feel foolish.”
“You shouldn’t.” A woman like Fallon stood out from the others, but in a good way. “Trust me, lots of guys are looking.”
“Really?” She glanced around. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Gospel truth.” He crossed his heart.
Laughing, she rejoined the dancers.
Admittedly, Fallon looked a little lonely. All around her, people brushed against once another but never came within two feet of her.
Several times, the urge to join her burned in his blood.
He couldn’t help thinking of her moving against him, the scent of her skin and how soft she’d feel. Twice he’d even gotten to his feet. But he held back.
The things he imagined with her were already taboo enough; he wouldn’t cross the line in deed, as well.
So instead he kept his vigil—and tortured himself with carnal fantasies inspired by the rhythmic roll of her hips and the sway of her torso.
Repeatedly, Fallon returned to the booth to sip on her beer. Halfway through the third, she pronounced her words too precisely, a deep flush stained her cheeks, and her dark eyes had that glassy look. Hoping to discourage her, Justice scooted the remainder of the drink to the other side of the table.
It was nearing midnight when some random dude, no doubt guided by liquid courage, caught her in his sights.
Justice read the intent in his gaze, but Fallon, still dancing, remained oblivious.
When the guy elbowed one of his buddies, then pointed her out, his friends started egging him on.
Justice couldn’t really blame the guy for trying.
The prim clothes and overprotective upbringing hadn’t stifled Fallon’s sensuality. Nope, that came out loud and clear in the way she moved.
The guy had almost reached her when Justice stepped into his path. “Don’t,” he growled into the idiot’s startled face, and the guy literally fled the bar.
Fallon wanted to dance, so by God, she’d get to dance—without getting hassled.
At one o’clock, the crowd finally thinned. Justice took her purse from the seat, grabbed the umbrella and walked out to the dance floor to tell her it was time to go.
She tried to tempt him into dancing.
It wasn’t easy, but he held firm. “We need to get going.”
She fashioned a very sexy pout. “Why?”
“It’s late, the storm let up and you’re drunk.”
She gave it some thought, then nodded. “I think you might be right.”
“So you know you’re plastered?”
“No, I meant that the rain has stopped.” She grinned at him. “I think I’ve learned to like beer.”
She still held her nose every time she drank, so no, she definitely didn’t like it. “If you say so.”
“Thank you for your patience.”
“It’s what I’m paid for.” He handed her purse to her, waited while she got the strap up and over her shoulder, which took her three tries, then led her out into the dark night.
Not a single star showed. So much humidity hung in the air that halos formed around each streetlamp. There were a lot less people outside now, and they were more subdued than the earlier crowd, talking low in small groups.
The drone of rain dripping from every surface lent a light music to the night.
Though they no longer shared an umbrella, Fallon stayed very close to him, so he felt it when she shivered.
He was so warm, particularly because of her nearness, that he hadn’t even thought about her getting chilled. He glanced down at her and realized she’d gotten dewy with all her dancing in the heated bar. In comparison, the temps outside were cool.
He paused to slip off his flannel shirt then carefully draped it around her shoulders. “Better?”
Surprise had her blinking before she gave him a beautiful smile. “Yes, thank you.” Then with concern, she asked, “You’re not cold?”
Not even close. Hell, seeing the pleasure on her face sent his temp up a few more notches. “I’m fine.”
She looked up at him, maybe gauging his sincerity, then put her palm against his left biceps. “You’re actually warm,” she whispered with awe.
Yeah, much more of that and he’d combust.
To get her moving and distract his misplaced lust, Justice put his arm around her and steered her forward.
They’d almost reached the car when three bodies slipped out of the shadows. Big, muscular—definitely not slouches. Well, hell.
“Got a cigarette?” the one in front asked.
“Don’t smoke.” Justice took a step in front of Fallon, planning to protect her as they proceeded, but the other two blocked him. With his patience strained, he loosened his stance. “You don’t want to do this.”
Ignoring that warning, the lead man said, “I’ll take her purse.”
“No,” Justice replied evenly, “you won’t. And if you try, you’re gonna get hurt...bad.”
The man to his right drew a knife. Justice heard Fallon’s gasp, and it infuriated him. She stayed behind him, not even peeking around. Odds were stuff like this never happened in her world—because she didn’t go to bars, didn’t drink...didn’t dance, visit friends or apparently have fun.
Pissed that her night out might end in violence, he growled, “Put that away before I stick it in your fucking ear.”
Cowering behind him, Fallon’s trembling increased.
The most brazen one laughed. “You’re scaring her, dude. Just hand it over and we can all get on our way.”
Fuck it. “You’re right.” He pivoted to the side, as if to face Fallon, but as she started to give him her purse, he kicked out fast, catching the bastard in the face with his heel. The crunch of cartilage satisfied Justice. Even in his sneakers, his kick had likely done more than break the guy’s nose, given the way he dropped.
The knife wielder slashed out. With far faster reflexes, Justice ducked back and at the same time grabbed his wrist. With little effort, he broke it, then took the knife from his limp hand.
Remembering Justice’s threat, the second attacker turned and, with his damaged arm held close, ran away as fast as he could.
The third man, now more than a little incredulous, eyed his buddy on the ground, then his fleeing friend.
“What do you think?” Justice said. “Make up your mind before I take the decision away from you.”
Lifting his hands in submission, the man slowly stepped away until he disappeared back into the shadows.
“Oh, my God,” Fallon whispered.
What he’d like to do, Justice realized, was walk away from the mess. But he was on official business with Body Armor, so he had to call it in.
Rule of the agency: don’t dick with the law unless given prior permission. For sure Sahara would want him to follow the rules tonight, with a client like Fallon.
When he turned to her, he saw Fallon’s eyes were enormous and her lips parted.
“You okay?” he asked.
She closed her mouth and gulped. “You pulverized them.”
She sounded so surprised, a smile tried to steal away Justice’s black mood. “Not even close, but it’s hard to do when the pricks run off.”
“You terrified them.” She looked at where the first guy still sprawled on the ground, out for the count. “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.”
“Because you haven’t watched professional MMA.” In comparison to the best fighters, he was fucking slow.
“So impressive. Like...pow!” A little on the tipsy side, she tried to mimic his kick, and almost fell to her nicely rounded butt.
“Easy,” Justice said, catching her under the arms and hauling her upright. Knowing he needed to get her in the car before anything else happened, he said, “Come on,” and led the way.
As they passed the downed man, she gawked and asked, “Is he dead?”
“Don’t be so bloodthirsty. He’s just knocked out.” At least, Justice hoped that was true. He got Fallon seated, tucked the flannel around her, then hit the automatic lock. “Don’t open this for anyone but me.”
As he started to close the door, she said, “Wait! What are you doing?”
“Calling the cops. I’ll be right here, but I have to let them know.”
“Are you sure?” She fretted with the strap of her purse. “I mean, Dad will have a conniption. If you thought he was overprotective before, this will seal my fate.”
“You’re twenty-four,” Justice pointed out. “You’re a grown woman and can do as you please.” Or was she worried about losing daddy’s money? She hadn’t seemed that mercenary, but truth be told, he still didn’t know shit about her, except that she looked hot as hell dancing and couldn’t hold her beer.
“It’s not that easy.” She looked away. “But they...well, they’ve been through a lot and I’m all they have left.”
The sincerity in her tone did him in. Justice glanced back at the guy he’d kicked. The fool was finally coming to. He staggered to his feet, likely with a broken jaw, but given how quickly he sneaked off, he’d live. The area was quiet; no one else was paying any attention.
Shit, he hated making decisions like this. Sometimes the “right thing to do” wasn’t so clear-cut.
“Please, Justice?”
Now, how was he supposed to refuse her when she looked up at him like that?
Decision made, Justice nodded. “All right, fine. Get your seat belt on.” Once they were on the road, they’d have a nice long talk about expectations. He’d explain his responsibilities and how he had to fulfill them not only for her father, as the client, but for the agency that employed him.
He drove for five minutes, getting his thoughts in order, deciding what he’d say and tamping down the adrenaline rush from kicking a little ass. He missed competing. Not that the stupid punks had offered any real challenge. Street thugs never did. Whenever possible, Justice avoided them.
But competition...even when he’d lost, he’d loved the sport. ’Course, winning was so much sweeter.
Rather than dwell on opportunities lost, he cleared his throat and glanced at Fallon, his lecture mentally prepared.
She was fast asleep. Deep, even breaths lifted her breasts. Her lips were slightly parted, her hands limp at her sides, her head lolling back against the seat.
Justice should have been disgruntled with her.
Instead, he spent the rest of the drive to her house with a stupid smile on his face.
* * *
“WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD.”
From far away, Fallon heard the words. Too tired to care, she snuggled into her seat and sighed.
“Fallon, c’mon, girl. Up and at ’em.”
That gruff voice teased her senses. She pulled the blanket up higher and frowned, trying to refuse.
Rough fingers stroked her cheek, and she heard, “Damn, you are so soft.”
Well, that was nice. In fact, this might be the nicest dream she’d ever had.
A second later, a hard hand shook her shoulder. “Knock off the sappy smile and wake up. Lights are coming on inside and I expect your dad to charge out here any minute.”
Her dad? Fallon lifted her lashes—and found Justice staring into her face. She blinked to bring him into focus.
“Hello,” he said with a lopsided grin. “You with me, Fallon?”
“Oh.” She sat up, felt her head swim and closed her eyes again. “Yes. Sorry.”
She heard his car door open and close again, then hers opened. “Let’s go.” He unhooked her seat belt for her and practically lifted her out.
More drunk than she’d realized, Fallon fell against him, and the security lights flashed on around them.
Justice groaned. “Now we’re in for it.”
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
Shielding her eyes from the lights, Fallon straightened away from Justice, but kept a hand on his arm for necessary support. “Dad?”
Wrapped in his housecoat and wearing slippers, her father did indeed charge. The clothes, or lack thereof, and disheveled hair didn’t diminish his stately presence. With haughty disgruntlement, he looked her over, then turned to glare at Justice with concentrated disapproval.
“You should know,” Justice said fast, “I was all kinds of avuncular. But she drank a little too much and—”
Fallon gasped. “You big tattletale! I wasn’t going to tell him I drank!”
With a roll of his eyes, Justice said, “It’s not something you could have hidden from him when you can’t even stand up straight.”
“I can stand.” She attempted to and teetered to the left. Both Justice and her father reached out. She caught her balance, lifted her chin in triumph...and slowly tipped over.
Justice got to her first, holding her steady. “Just hush now and let me explain.”
Feeling very accusatory, Fallon demanded, “Are you going to tell him about the fight, too?”
This time Justice groaned. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Fight?” her father rasped, his face going ashen. He grabbed her shoulders, turned her this way and that to check her over. “Dear God, are you all right?”
“No one was hurt,” Justice rushed to explain. “Fallon’s fine.”
Her father took that in, let out a shaky breath, then drilled them both with his patented stare. “There was a fight?”
“Skirmish,” Justice soothed. “Nothing serious.”
Well, since her father knew anyway... “He was amazing,” Fallon gushed. Justice had impressed her and she was dying to share. “He kicked one guy in the face and put him down.”
“One guy?” More apoplectic by the second, her father barked, “There was more than one?”
Justice squeezed her when she started to explain, then he took over. “Three knuckleheads wanted to take her purse, that’s all. It wasn’t a big deal.”
A flush of anger replaced the pale disbelief. Through clenched teeth, her dad said, “I don’t know where you took her, but you quite obviously used poor judgment.”
When Justice started to speak, Fallon fell into him. “I need to sit down.”
“Let’s take you in, then your father and I can talk.” He put an arm around her and led her forward.
She took one step and tripped over her own feet. The concrete drive rushed up at her face.
Before she made impact, Justice scooped her up into his arms. “Make a note, Fallon. You are not a beer drinker.” He walked past her silently outraged dad.
Her mother, often more reasonable, stood at the door. “Fallon, what in the world have you done?”
“Two beers,” Fallon explained. “I swear.”
“Close to the truth,” Justice said, stepping inside when her mother held the door open. “Add another half a beer to be exact.”
Fallon looked at the long stairs, then at Justice. “I don’t suppose you could carry me on up?” Her legs felt ridiculously wobbly, and besides, she liked being in his arms. He didn’t look the least bit strained.
“No,” her dad snapped. “He most definitely cannot. In fact, you will unhand her this instant.”
“Clayton,” her mother chastised. Then to Justice, “Put her right here.”
He strode across the foyer to the small settee her mother had indicated and carefully lowered her to the seat.
Behind them, her father seethed. “You’re fired. Leave and do not return.”
Going stiff in the neck, Justice said, “She had a terrific time tonight. You know she’s not done, and she’s already familiar with me and—”
“Fired! Now get out.”
“Dad!” No, no, no, Fallon thought. It couldn’t end like this. “You can’t blame him for—”
“If he doesn’t leave this instant, I’ll call the police and have him removed.”
Justice stiffened. “Fine.”
As he turned to go, Fallon panicked. “Justice?”
He paused only a second, sent her a look of frustrated regret, then kept on going...right out of her life.
“Shh,” her mother told her before she could make a single sound of protest. “Pick your battles, honey, and time them well. Now is definitely not the time.”
“But—”
“Come along. I’ll help you upstairs.”
The night had been so nice. How could she go from happy to devastated in a matter of minutes?
“You need to sleep it off,” her mother whispered, “then we’ll talk in the morning, I promise.”
Behind them, her father glared. Never before had she seen him enraged like this. Certainly she’d never seen him enraged at her.
“Clayton will be fine,” her mom assured her. “He’s struggling with his own demons, and like you, he needs a little time. Morning will be soon enough to sort it all out.”
God, she hoped so. Halfway up the stairs, Fallon said, “I had a nice time.”
“I’m glad.”
“Even though no one would dance with me.”
Smiling, her mother said, “Perhaps Mr. Wallington wouldn’t allow it?”
“Maybe,” Fallon said. “He has this crazy death stare, way worse than dad’s, and it terrified everyone. I don’t think Justice knew that I noticed, but I did.”
“Of course you did.”
Thinking about the way Justice had watched her, Fallon admitted, “He was wonderful, Mom.”
“Was he, now?” Supporting her, her mother kept her walking, up and up that never-ending staircase.
Tonight the stairs seemed a particular challenge. Fallon knew she’d never before overimbibed because this out-of-control feeling was entirely new. She couldn’t get her limbs to coordinate, and worse, she felt like bawling.
Once in her room, her mother got out her nightgown and folded down her covers.
Feeling far too clumsy, Fallon finally got her clothes changed and didn’t protest when her mother put them away. More than anything, she wanted to drop into bed. However, old habits died hard, so she first went into her bathroom to halfheartedly brush her teeth and wash her face.
When she stepped out, she found her mother sitting on the side of the bed. Knowing that probably meant a talk, Fallon groaned, but dutifully got into bed.
“How do you feel?”
“Exhausted.” And melancholy and excited and...too many emotions for her to differentiate. The night had been fun, but at times scary. Peaceful and exhilarating. And until she’d blundered, she’d felt so incredibly free.
She should never have given up on life, limited as it might be. Now that she’d had a small taste, she wanted more. God, she craved more. With new conviction, she decided that if she couldn’t have it all, she’d at least take what she could get.
Her mother smiled, then said carefully, “Mr. Wallington is an interesting character.”
He fascinated her. “Yes.” Interesting, funny, strong, an unbelievable fighter, unique and so protective and gentle without smothering her as her parents often did.
After tucking the covers up around her, her mother smiled. “You know, I met with Ms. Silver and went over all the profiles before selecting Mr. Wallington as your guard.”
That was news to Fallon. “You did?” She knew her mother and Ms. Silver had met via their social circles, but she’d assumed her father had made all the arrangements for the protection.
“Yes. Your father was put off by his appearance, but I specifically choose him because, well, I assumed you’d find him unattractive?”
With her mother watching her so closely, Fallon tried not to show any reaction, but inside, she scoffed.
The truth was that she found Justice almost too attractive to bear. But her mother waited for a reply, so Fallon said, “He’s okay.”
“Yes.” Her mother smiled. “Anyway, whether you’d find him handsome or not, I decided his casual manner and dress would make him less obvious as a bodyguard.”
Working up what she hoped would be a convincing smile, Fallon said, “I’m glad you did.” In the end, it didn’t matter how sinfully gorgeous Justice might be: she understood her own limitations.
“I want you to be happy, Fallon.”
Fallon sighed. Her mother had her hair loose, no makeup on her face, and still Fallon thought she looked very pretty. She also looked to be fishing.
“I am happy.”
“Oh, honey.” Her smile went sad. “You know you don’t ever need to lie to me.”
“I wouldn’t.” Yes, she could be happier, but she understood her lot. She had parents who loved her, financial security, a custom-made job that she enjoyed and all the comforts she wanted. “Just because I’m...”
“Expanding your horizons?”
Fallon nodded. That was a good way to put it. “It doesn’t mean I’m unhappy.” She hoped she could clear out the cobwebs sufficiently to reassure her mom.
Teasing, her mother mused aloud, “Now that I’ve met him in person, I’ll admit that Mr. Wallington has a certain rugged appeal.”
Rather than admit anything else inflammatory, Fallon pressed her lips together and shrugged.
“And, my Lord, the man is enormous, all of it brute strength. I imagine any young lady would find him striking on a very basic level.”
Pretty much on any level, but Fallon said only, “Yes, so?”
“So he’s your guard. It’s not only your father he has to answer to, but also his employer. You’re a beautiful woman, Fallon, but understand that Mr. Wallington could be completely discredited if he crossed the line while on the job.”
“Mom.” Heat rushed into her face. “It wasn’t like that.”
“I’m all for you dating again,” her mother continued. “If Marcus doesn’t suit—”
“Marcus most definitely does not.” She’d see Marcus again, of course. They moved in the same social circle. But she’d never again be alone with him—and she’d never again trust him.
“If you want to talk about it—”
“No.” Her mother didn’t know the soul-crushing rejection Marcus had delivered, and Fallon hoped to keep it that way. Her way of dealing? Get out there and live without expectations. “I’m fine. Please don’t worry.”
“I’m a mother. I’m allowed to worry and I imagine I’ll be doing so the rest of my life.” She softened that with a hug. “Now, about Mr. Wallington.”
Fallon would never again delude herself. A strong, confident man like Justice Wallington wouldn’t give a woman like her a second look, except as an assignment.
And as a mere assignment, he’d never know her secrets.
“I have no illusions there.”
“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” her mother corrected. “Mr. Wallington would be lucky to have you, and since he seems like a smart man, he probably realizes it. But Fallon, getting drunk and allowing the man to carry you in will only make it more difficult for him to resist you.”
Fallon almost laughed. Her mother would be forever biased, no matter what. Justice had resisted her easily enough. “I know. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Expression curious, her mother asked, “You think he’ll suit as your protection?”
“Yes. He was really terrific, sticking close like Dad asked, but not once getting too familiar.” Okay, that was stretching the truth just a tiny bit. She’d had guards before; none of them had been as familiar as Justice.
In fact, none of them had been anything at all like him.
Because of the circumstances, she assumed, as well as his manner, Justice was totally unique. He was far more rough-hewn than any other man she knew, and it showed in his speech, his expressions, his big gorgeous body and his naturally protective nature.
Her mother gave her a knowing look. “I would say carrying you in like an old-fashioned knight went a wee bit beyond familiar.”
“That,” Fallon assured her, “was entirely my fault.” She twisted her mouth to the side. “Apparently two beers are far more potent than a single glass of wine.” If she hadn’t been so tipsy, she’d never have let him do that, most especially not in front of her father.
“It’s late,” her mother said with a laugh. “Get some sleep and in the morning you can tell me everything.”
“Okay.” She turned to her side and burrowed into her pillow. Tomorrow she’d work it out with her dad. She had to. She wasn’t ready to let go of her new personal guard so soon. “Mom?”
“Hmm?”
Fallon closed her eyes. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” her mother said, “we know.”
