Hard Justice

The first part was a piece of cake compared to the second. The dude, talented at acting but not so much at throwing punches, had a hell of a time catching on. He’d been too arrogant to really learn, determined to think he could overcome the physical aspect of the role—the right stance, the proper moves—with added drama. Justice dreaded seeing the movie, since he knew the actor was going to end up looking like a fool.

Or maybe, he hoped, selective editing and a more athletic stand-in could make it all work. The upside of that job had been the groupies who, when shot down by the star, were more than happy to spend time with a bodyguard. He grinned, remembering how in awe they’d been of his résumé. Not many fighters turned to protection, but for him, so far, it fit.

That is, until Fallon Wade.

His boss’s number-one man, Enoch, delivered a tray of much needed coffee and Sahara’s favorite pastries.

Less tired and therefore more upright, Leese sat across from Justice. Apparently the late-night call hadn’t kept him up. Since getting engaged, Leese looked satisfied more often than not.

Leese accepted coffee but, forever the fitness buff, passed on the sweets. Leese might have left the fight world, but he’d yet to abandon the training.

Sahara Silver, best boss ever, propped her very shapely rear on the edge of her massive desk and, looking orgasmic, bit into a jelly-filled doughnut. She’d dressed as classy as ever in a silky blouse, skinny skirt and crazy-high heels.

He liked Sahara a lot and respected her even more. She was a shark in business, a high-maintenance woman and a loyal friend. After licking her lips and washing down the sugar with a big drink of her coffee, Sahara turned to him, grinned and said, “Buck up, buttercup.”

“I got fired,” Justice grouched back. “Don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

“True, you did.” She swung one foot. “But I’m guessing someone had a fit, because just as I was headed in to this little meeting, Mr. Wade called to say he’d had a change of heart. You are to report to their home at six this evening.”

Very slowly, Justice straightened. “You’re shi—” he quickly censored himself and corrected “—kidding me?”

Sahara feigned an absurd look of innocence. “Would I do that?”

“You think the daughter forced it?” Leese asked.

“Why else? When Mr. Wade called—at the crack of dawn, by the way—he was most adamant that Justice was through. I do believe he wanted me to hang him by his toenails...or some other more vulnerable body part.” She bobbed her eyebrows while giving a pointed look at his crotch. “The man was entirely enraged and I only soothed him by telling him I’d give Justice a strict reprimand.”

Justice scowled.

“Consider yourself severely reprimanded, by the way.” Sahara made him wait while she took another bite of her doughnut. “Funny thing, though, when Mr. Wade called back, he was subdued to the point of being sullen. He snarled that he’d reconsidered and the contract should stand.”

Justice didn’t know what to think. Had Fallon had a hissy? That’d fit the princess role, but she hadn’t seemed like the hissy type to him.

Still, it wasn’t like he knew her well. Shortly after meeting, she’d gotten drunk and people could be very different then.

“None of this makes sense,” Justice said. “I’m not even sure why she needs protection.”

While sipping coffee, Sahara shrugged. “Her father is wealthy. Threats come out of nowhere.”

“But it’s more than that,” Justice insisted. “They treat her like she’s a kid.” He glanced at Leese. “She wanted to go to a bar and drink beer. Said she’d never done either one before. What twenty-four-year-old lady’s never done that?” And now that he thought of it, it made him wonder what else she hadn’t done.

Not a good direction for his thoughts to take.

“That’s where you took her?” Leese asked.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t help but half grin. “She got hammered right off the bat. It would have been funny if her dad wasn’t breathing fire down my neck.”

Leese gave him a long look. “Had she eaten?”

“I dunno.”

The long look became disbelieving. “You didn’t find out?” Leese sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “You took a twenty-four-year-old sheltered client on a drinking spree without asking questions first?”

Going on the defensive, Justice said, “’Course I asked questions. She just didn’t give a lot of answers.”

“Tell me you at least did your research beforehand.”

“I told you last night, she didn’t give me a chance. She laid out the agenda after I got there, not before.”

Leese shook his head. “But you researched her, right?”

Starting to feel uncomfortable, Justice shifted. He knew Leese was big on digging up every bit of info he could, in every way he could. “What was there to research? It was a straightforward job. Just watch over her for a while.”

Leese and Sahara shared a look of disappointment.

“What?” he demanded. “There wasn’t any specific threat ever mentioned.”

“You do your research, regardless.” Leese stood. “You know that.”

“Sure. But this time, it didn’t seem necessary. I mean, I’m like a glorified babysitter or something.” Except that now...yeah, now he wished he knew more about her.

“Let’s go.” Leese returned his coffee cup to the tray. “We’ll do it now.”

“We will?” Justice quickly gulped down his coffee and went to follow his friend. After all, Leese had fallen much more comfortably into this new gig. For him, it had been an easy transition.

For Justice, he still felt like he had a lot to learn...obviously.

“Yes,” Sahara said. “Go, shoo. Do your jobs. Leave the rest of the pastries for me. And Justice? Let me know how it goes.”

* * *

BY THE TIME Justice pulled through the gate to the Wade home, he felt like he had a better handle on things.

He now knew that Fallon had graduated at the top of her class, so she was obviously smart.

She didn’t keep a Facebook page or Twitter account, so she wasn’t much for social media—or she was super private. He’d bet on the latter.

The lack of an online persona made it tougher to get a handle on her personal preferences. Leese had thought they’d find out about her friends, past dates, the places she enjoyed hanging...but when they found nothing, they both decided it was her father’s wealth that made it difficult to do the usual. Anyone could be tracked online, but as protective as her folks were, they wouldn’t like making it easy.

Fallon was young for her job as a decorator for her father’s hotel chain. She handled only the local hotels, though. Justice didn’t know if that was out of an aversion to traveling or just convenience.

Since most rich people spent a bunch of their time jetting around, Leese had dug a little more, but even he couldn’t find a single instance of Fallon leaving the city in years.

Curious, but what Justice found most interesting was an incident from five years ago when Fallon’s sister, older by two years, had tragically died in a fire. That alone might be enough to prompt the parents to hover over her.

Losing a kid...he couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. But yeah, it could make anyone more protective.

There weren’t many details to go by. The parents were super private and had refused all interviews. All Leese could find was a report of the fire, started by accident, saying that the sister had died. Apparently the Wades had enough money and influence to keep their personal business out of the news.

To prepare for the assignment, Justice had left Leese to finish up his cursory research while he checked out all the local establishments that Fallon might want to visit. That had taken most of the afternoon. After figuring he had a handle on things, Justice had eaten his dinner and headed out.

Now that the storms had blown over, the spring day felt too warm and muggy. He’d dressed in a T-shirt and jeans with his usual gym shoes. This time of early evening, the sun settled like a blaze on the horizon, making sunglasses necessary as he drove along the landscaped private drive to the house.

First thing Justice noticed was a black Mercedes parked out front. Slick ride. Curious, he parked behind it, got out and started for the front door. Right before he reached the steps, the door opened and a suited GQ-looking guy got ushered out.

Tall, trim, blond—and obviously of the same moneyed ilk as Fallon’s family.

Effectively backing him out the door, Fallon said, “Really, Marcus, I’ve been clear. I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

Huh. A boyfriend? Maybe past boyfriend, given Fallon’s frown. Justice held back, watching and waiting.

Marcus took her hands. “Don’t say that, Fallon. You can’t mean it.”

“I do.” She tugged, but good ole Marcus didn’t let her go.

That irked Justice big-time. He was about to intercede when Mr. Wade stepped out, and for once he looked pissed at someone other than Justice. “Go, Marcus. Don’t make this more uncomfortable for her than it has to be.”

“Please, sir, I need just a minute to speak with her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Mr. Wade insisted.

“Dad,” Fallon complained. “I can handle this.”

“I screwed up,” Marcus rushed to say to her father, ignoring Fallon’s objection. “I know that and I’m sorry. It just...took me by surprise.”

“Marcus!” Face going red, Fallon glanced at her father, who didn’t budge. “You don’t have to explain. Seriously.” She tugged again, but blondie didn’t let go. “I understand. But surely you see—”

“It won’t happen again. I swear.”

“What,” her father asked with growling menace, “won’t happen again?”

“Dad,” Fallon pleaded more urgently. Then to Marcus, “Don’t do this. Please.”

Justice decided he’d had enough. Interrupting whatever Marcus would have said, he announced himself. “Hey, Fallon. You about ready?”

Finally noticing him, her face lit up, then pinched in irritation as she forcefully yanked her hands from Marcus. “Yes, of course. I’ll need only a minute.”

“Sure.” As he strode up the steps, Justice pushed the glasses to the top of his head, letting them catch in the messy fauxhawk that he knew needed a good trim.

She looked nervously to her pushy swain. “Marcus...”

“I’m not leaving,” Marcus insisted.

Yeah, Justice decided, he was. “Did I get here just in time to be useful?” His muscles clenched. He felt like cracking his knuckles—or the boyfriend’s head.

“No! That is, everything’s fine.” Fallon floundered, then pulled back her shoulders and glared at Marcus.

“Fallon,” the guy pleaded.

“Goodbye.” After giving her dad a warning frown, Fallon sent a fast smile to Justice, then hurried inside.

Pinning his gaze to Marcus, Justice approached with as much menace as he could muster.

Marcus quickly stepped aside, caught himself and, instead of leaving, he struck an arrogant stance. “Who are you?”

“None of your business.” Satisfied with Marcus’s flustered reaction, Justice turned to her father with a cordial nod. “Mr. Wade.”

“Mr. Wallington.” He blocked the door. “I’d like a word please.”

“All right.” Justice had figured on getting an earful.

Mr. Wade turned to Marcus again. “Don’t come back here uninvited or you’ll find yourself out of a job.”

Justice whistled low. Far as dismissals went, that was a brutal one.

Face going red, Marcus nodded. “As you wish.” Trying to muster some dignity, he needlessly straightened his suit coat. “But I will speak with her again.” He cast a cautious look at Justice, turned and left.

Both men watched, arms crossed, until Marcus had driven out of view.

Seeing a neutral opening, Justice asked, “Is he a threat?”

“Marcus? No, of course not.” Mr. Wade closed the door behind him, giving them privacy outside. “You know that I fired you.”

“Not something I would’ve missed.” The man had shouted it at him in a rage.

“I hired you back only because Fallon insisted.”

What was he supposed to say about that? No way would he thank him, so instead he settled on a simple, “Okay.” He didn’t want things to be more awkward than necessary, but hell if he’d grovel.

“I wouldn’t have,” Mr. Wade stated, “but she threatened to hire you herself. With her own money.”

Fallon had enough of her own? Justice wasn’t sure. Nothing in the research revealed her finances, and it didn’t feel like an appropriate question to ask. Feeling his way, he said, “I gather you don’t want her to do that?”

“No, I don’t.” Showing his frustration, Mr. Wade ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the meticulous style. “But Fallon is independent.”

Justice almost choked on that. He banked the skepticism when Mr. Wade glared at him.

“You don’t understand,” Mr. Wade continued. “I would love to indulge her, but other than agreeing to live at home, she rarely lets me. Even for holidays—her birthday, Christmas—she complains if we give her too many gifts. She buys casual department store clothes, drives an economy car—”

“So far,” Justice said, “I don’t see a problem.” He kind of liked the idea that Fallon was so low-key. Made it easier for him to relate to her.

“I was remiss in explaining things to you.” Locking his hands behind his back, Mr. Wade paced. “Fallon received a sizable trust fund from my parents. If she chose to, she could live a very comfortable, independent life off that. However, she almost never touches the money. For the most part, she makes do with her limited salary.”

“So it’s because of this big inheritance that you wanted her protected?”

“Not entirely, no.” Mr. Wade looked off down the drive, visibly gathering his thoughts.

Justice waited for him to explain the threat.

Instead, he said, “I didn’t want Fallon to finally spend the money...only to spite me.”

Damn, how big of a spat had they had? Justice found himself in the awkward position of feeling bad for Mr. Wade. “Yeah, okay, I get that.” He cleared his throat, searching for words to smooth things over. “Look, I don’t want to be a bone of contention between father and daughter. If there are strict rules here, just let me know and I’ll do my best. But if I can speak up?”

A touch of desperation held her father stiff. “By all means.”

“Well...” Justice rubbed the back of his neck, completely out of his comfort zone. Hell, as a fighter, he’d hooked up with plenty of girls and never, not once, had he been forced through a heart-to-heart with a father. “Fallon’s not a kid, right? The things she gets excited over, like drinking a beer? That’s stuff she should’ve done years ago. Seems to me she’s just spreading her wings a little, playing catch-up with other people her age. Why not let her? So she got a little drunk. You were mid-twenties once, right?”

After a moment, the slightest of smiles tweaked Mr. Wade’s mouth. “Yes.”

Somehow Justice couldn’t see the staid man before him ever cutting loose, but whatever. “No harm was done. And that fight she mentioned wasn’t much of a fight at all.”

“She said the two of you were accosted by three men.”

Bearing his own frustration, Justice propped his hands on his hips. “Yeah, but they were just bozos. I handled it, and I’ll handle anything else that comes up.” He threw caution to the wind and clapped a hand to the man’s shoulder. “Let her cut loose in the way she wants—with me keeping her safe. You’ll worry, sure. I get that dads do that.”

Brows lifted, Mr. Wade looked first at the hand on his shoulder, then at Justice directly. “Your own father. Does he worry?”

“He passed when I was young. But my mom? That woman could worry paint off the wall.” He grinned, gave the smaller man two strong shoulder slaps that left him staggering, then dropped his hand. “Thing is, Mom trusts me. I’m thinking you need to trust Fallon some, too.”

“I do.”

“Then how about trusting me? I come with good credentials.” Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Justice moved on to more important matters. “So about this Marcus character...”

That soured the man’s mood even more. “They used to date.”

Yeah, he’d figured that much on his own. “Didn’t work out?”

After only a second or two of hesitation, Mr. Wade confided in him. “Marcus hurt her. I’m not sure how but they ended their relationship and she hasn’t dated since.”

Justice went rigid. “What do you mean, he hurt her?”

“Her feelings. He said or did something.” In a low voice, Mr. Wade murmured, “Bastard.”

Well, what do you know? He and Mr. Wade were finding common ground after all. “Did she date much before that?”

“Not since high school.”

Which meant she hadn’t dated in college? Why the hell not? “So when did she and Marcus meet?” To keep from sounding too personally interested, Justice said, “It helps if I know what’s what, in case he shows up again.”

“If he does, it won’t go well for him. I meant it when I said I’d fire him.”

“What did he do for you?”

Mr. Wade waved a hand. “Management position, created for him—which means he’d be easy to replace.”

Hmm. “You think Fallon would be okay with that? I mean, I got the impression she wanted to handle it herself, not with your influence.”

His shoulders dropped. “True.” After a huff, he added, “And Rebecca is fond of him.”

Fallon’s mom? “So maybe you need to be just a little more subtle in how you scare him off.”

Mr. Wade scrutinized him. “You?”

Why not? After all, his job was to protect her. “I can easily handle it, and since you’re paying me...” Justice left that open-ended, and then waited.

“Keep him away from her,” Mr. Wade instructed, “and I just might consider you valuable after all.”

“I’ll see to it.” With pleasure. What had the prick done to turn her against him? Hands in his pockets, Justice asked, “You wanna give me any details?”

Mr. Wade grumbled to himself a moment, something about a wasted promotion, then explained, “They were together for about four months and she seemed so happy. Fallon is private, so I don’t know what Marcus did to screw it up, but it ended about six weeks ago.”

Stalling the million and one questions Justice had, Fallon opened the door—and drew up short when she saw the two men in close conversation.

Suspicion lifted her brows, then animosity lowered them. In a chilling tone of warning, Fallon asked, “Dad?”

CHAPTER FOUR

JUSTICE SAID, “UM...”

Hell, he felt like he’d just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In truth, Fallon had probably saved him because he’d been close to asking questions that had nothing to do with the job, and had everything to do with the odd protectiveness he felt toward Fallon as a woman.

It went beyond work ethic and nudged into...territorial.

Assignment, assignment, assignment. He’d remind himself as many times as necessary.

Being much smoother, Mr. Wade pasted on a tempered smile. “We were just passing the time until you finished getting ready, honey.”

Fallon wasn’t buying it. Her doubt showed in the way she looked at Justice out of the corner of her eye.

He grinned at her.

That seemed to confuse her. “I would have been ready if Marcus hadn’t dropped in. I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“Does he do that often?” Shut up, Justice.

“Um, no.” She looked between him and her father. “But it did put me just a little behind.”

“Not a problem,” Justice promised. “I’m on your schedule, remember.”

“And it gave us a chance to chat and get better acquainted.” Mr. Wade pulled his daughter into an embrace, hugging her close. He looked at Justice over her head while he said, “Have fun, and be safe.”

Next he offered his hand to Justice.

Huh. Maybe they really had smoothed over the rough waters. “Right. Better acquainted.” Justice accepted the olive branch.

“I’m trusting you to take care of her.” After that quiet acceptance, Mr. Wade went in.

Fallon scowled up at Justice. “What was that all about?”

Today she wore slim ankle-length jeans with flat shoes and a loose, blue striped sweater. She looked incredibly cute. “Just talking man to man.” Rather than go into detail, Justice gestured for her to precede him to the car. “Where to tonight?”

“I checked out local attractions and found that there’s a street fair nearby. It’s open for a few more hours.”

Justice tripped over his own feet. Damn it, he’d checked everything he could think of, but he hadn’t even known about the fair. “Where?”

“It’s downtown. Lots of crowds expected.”

He grabbed for the door handle right before she could.

Once again, she sat up front.

Like déjà vu, he got behind the wheel but didn’t pull away. “Will you need me tomorrow, too?”

She tipped her head. “Is that a problem?”

“Nope. But I’m thinking we save the fair till then.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know anything about it.”

“It’s a fair,” she said. “There will be vendors, things to buy, food to try.”

Justice figured it was past time they made some ground rules. “You need to understand, it’s my job to make you secure. I gotta know what’s happening a little beforehand, otherwise it’s impossible. And when it’s impossible, your dad gets pissed and I could end up canned again.”

Not giving in, Fallon asked, “What could happen at a fair?”

No idea, but he knew better than to take chances. “Anything, I guess.” He tugged at his ear. “See, what I do is figure out how to proceed in case anything does go wrong. Like, I need to know the quickest way out, the best route to take, the neighborhoods we’ll go through—”

“You’re taking this all too seriously.”

“Yeah, says the girl who got shit-faced, had to be carried in, got me fired—”

“Stop!” Barely suppressing a laugh, she pressed her palms to her reddened cheeks. “That’s not who I usually am.”

Justice noticed how cute she looked with a blush. “Too bad, because that girl was fun.”

She blinked at him. “Really?”

Too late to call back the words, Justice said, “I mean—”

“You don’t think I was...pathetic?” So much heat now colored her cheeks, she looked scalded.

Bracing a forearm on the steering wheel, Justice turned to face her. The vulnerability in her dark eyes nearly broke his heart. Softly, he asked, “Why would you think that?”

She looked away, hesitated, then changed the subject. “Maybe we could do the art museum then. There’s a special exhibit—”

He cut her off. “Same problem. I’d need to check it out first.”

Disappointed, she clutched her hands in her lap. “So then what are we going to do? I’m not anxious to visit another bar.”

That surprised him. “I thought you had fun.” But maybe her daddy had put the kibosh on drinking.

“I did,” she admitted. “But then I woke up this morning and remembered that no one had danced with me. Not that I expected guys to rush over or anything, but...not a single one?”

The smile tugged at his mouth. “You know why, right?”

Her shoulders sagged. “I assume—”

Justice took her hand. It was small in his, delicate. Hell, her dad was right—she was fragile.

Taboo, dude. Knock that shit off.

He retreated, but explained, “Guys tried, honey. More than a few. My job was to keep them away, so that’s what I did.”

Comprehension came slowly. “You’re serious?”

Justice nodded. “Any guy who looked too long, or tried to cozy up, got my best ‘back the ef off’ stare. You were busy dancing—” and turning me on in the process “—so I guess you didn’t notice.”

She dropped back in her seat. “You actually warned men away?”

“With a mean stare, yeah.” In his defense, Justice said, “They weren’t your usual refined aristocrats, you know.”

A slow simmering anger straightened her shoulders, tightened that soft mouth and narrowed her amazing eyes. “I didn’t want to dance with an aristocrat. That’s why I went to a local bar.”