Hard Justice(5)

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."