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 any 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."